It’s fascinating to observe how each individual finds God or defines the divine through their unique perspectives and life experiences. A few weeks ago, I found myself grieved and heavy in spirit. The weight led me to my shower, where tears flowed freely. As water streamed over my body, my soul felt like it was breaking open. My cries became a prayer, raw and unfiltered, as if I was bearing God’s pain for myself.
I thought the cascading water would drown the sound of my anguish, but it only seemed to amplify the depth of my sorrow. I screamed into the void, “God, what is the right way? What is Your way?” My grief was for humanity, for myself, and for the salvation of my soul.
Today, a family member shared his excitement about books on African religion, folklore, and mythology. His passion was contagious, and I felt peace in his joy. It reminded me of that night in the shower, crying out to God, longing for humanity to find its way back to our Creator. In his voice, I heard hope—his own way of connecting with the divine. And I couldn’t tell him he was wrong. How could I? His path may differ from mine, but aren’t we all searching for the same thing? Aren’t we all trying to find our way back home to God?
I’ve come to understand that our spiritual journeys are as unique as our fingerprints. To judge another’s path or condemn their beliefs because they differ from my own feels like a disservice to the beauty of divine connection. I, too, found God outside the four walls of a church. My journey unfolded in ways I never expected, revealing that the twists and turns of life—often mistaken for wrong directions—can lead us exactly where we need to be.
While I believe in one ultimate Creator, I wonder: in His infinite wisdom and love, could He have created countless ways for us to find Him? Perhaps the divine path is not a single, rigid road but a vast landscape, tailored to each soul’s journey.
Life, I’ve learned, is a series of evolutions and transformations. The so-called wrong turns teach us the texture of the right ones. Without the contrast, how would we know the beauty of alignment? Yet, I’ve also noticed that the more “spiritual” we become, the more rigid we often are with ourselves. Ego whispers that we know the answers, that we’ve unlocked the mysteries of God and heaven. But in truth, the deeper I go, the more I realize how little I actually know.
And maybe that’s the point. Perhaps the real beauty of life—and of God—is found in the not knowing. In the humility of surrender, the divine hand reveals itself. What we know may not be universal; it may be meant just for us. That realization, I believe, is sacred.
I am often perplexed by the human mind, especially in matters of faith and spirituality. What I’ve come to embrace is this: we are all mere humans, leaning on our understanding, fumbling our way toward the infinite. And that, in itself, is a beautiful thing.
LaMia Michele
As usual, great post. It's amazing what God will reveal to us if we remain still & allow for Him to speak to our spirits.