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As a preteen, there was seemingly one event that shaped my entire life. Although I was raised in a Christian home, that belief system was rocked by tragedy. I never knew a day without the effects of an impending death sentence looming over my father’s head, but at the age of ten, the miraculous happened, and hope arrived. 

After my father received a kidney transplant, I thought everything would be great. I would finally get to do all the things that I wanted to do with him without the effects of dialysis. He would have the energy to engage in his ministry the way he desired to, and we would be able to live without the effects of a life-altering medical regimen. 

Abruptly, as quickly as hope arrived, so did despair, without a warning, and fanfare it arrived. Only eighteen months ago, the outlook for our lives was so different. We were confident that God was good, as he provided the requisite transplant that my father needed to thrive. No longer did we have to worry about dialysis; we could play without the physical toil of the machine. Life was not tethered to the presupposition that God may not answer the prayer, because it was clear that He did. I felt assured that God was good, and I remember walking up that aisle in a church in Waco, Texas, and giving my life to Christ. 

How quickly I reneged, and took control of my life when I felt uncertain about the goodness of God when he died. After a bout for his life, my father succumbed to the inevitable; he lost the battle, and I lost my faith. Questions of why he would die so young were a fixation in my life. The carefree child started to look for other things to fill the void that was only meant to be filled by God, and this is where the problems began. 

At eleven years old, I can remember feeling that life is short and I must do the things that I want to do while there is time. Because I was not anchored in the richness of the word of God, I was unable to withstand the trials that were surely to come, and I was without a foundation to lean upon. It was here that my perception of God changed, despite knowing that He is good and that He could be trusted with my problems. Therefore, an attitude of seizing the day would ruminate without my worldview.

The desire to fit in and to be like the other kids was effectively my god; my desire became the compass of my life, and whatever I chose felt beneficial to me was what I pursued. It was here that I felt the most lost, and I was blinded by the cares of this world. 

Thankfully, God still called out to me while I stumbled in the darkness. You see, God was not finished with me; in fact, He was beginning. The sense of emptiness that I felt was definitely impacted by hurt and pain, but that was not God’s fault. This came as a result of the effects of sin in our world. I bought the narrative that God allowed these things to happen, so it must be His fault, but that is a trick of the enemy. You see, the enemy allowed me to fill in the void that I felt with things that would pull me further from God, and coming to the end of myself allowed me to see the futility in this approach. No matter what I did, I could not answer this question: “Why do I feel so empty”? That question can only be answered by the Creator of all things, God.

In this blog, I will address some issues that I experienced as a young man and will provide scriptural references that allowed me to recognize the goodness of God and what it means to me in the physical world. Once I recognized that God is still good, and that He can keep in in all aspects of life, it was then that my life changed for the better. I only wish that I had developed a firm foundation of this truth earlier in life so that I could have enjoyed His presence much sooner, as it was He that I was looking for all that time.