Unbox God (Part 2): The Flip Side of Faith
Credit: Getty/Maria Korneeva
A Note: Friend, God whispered into my spirit last evening that the concept of unboxing Him—which we delved into together yesterday—was not yet fully explored. I had no intention of making this a two-part series, but I heard God and obeyed. I pray it blesses you.
We revel in the aspect of faith where our fervent prayers and belief seem to summon miracles, unlock blessings, and demolish barriers. Our spirits soar on the tales of divine might like those in the Bible—the parting of the Red Sea (Exodus 14), water flowing from a rock (Exodus 17), Manna raining from the heavens (Exodus 16), the raising of the Shunammite woman’s son from death (2 Kings 4), sight restored to the blind (Matthew 9), the cleansing of ten lepers (Luke 17), and Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead (John 11).
These authentic biblical accounts embolden our faith and empower us to anticipate the miraculous in our own lives. Verses about mountain-moving faith, like Matthew 17:20, are exhilarating, and personally, I've witnessed such power. I've stood at death's door with dire medical prognoses, yet I've seen God's healing hand restore me. I've heard "Code Blue" ring out in a hospital room, only to be revived by the power of intercessory prayer. I've been carried into a service, unable to walk, only to dance out, completely healed.
Yes, I've seen God's wonders. He remains a God of miracles. If you've followed my journey, you know that faith is my cornerstone.
However, it would be a disservice to you if I omitted the other side of faith—the side where God, despite our fervent faith, chooses to let the mountain remain, the illness run its course, a loved one pass away, or the thorn in the flesh persist.
This is the flip side of faith.
"Flip side" denotes another aspect or version, often its reverse, or the less desirable part. And truthfully, none of us wants to confront this flip side, where our cries seemingly go unheard by God, where, like Apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 12, we plead for the affliction to be lifted, only to hear, "My grace is sufficient for you" (v. 9).
My personal flip side
In the quiet of last evening, as the clock neared 8:00 PM, I found myself enveloped in an all-too-familiar fatigue. It's a type of exhaustion that transcends physical tiredness, seeping into the mental and emotional realms. It's as though a gray cloud has settled over my world, blotting out the sun and casting everything in shadow.
This exhaustion isn't new; it's been my nightly companion since 2019, when an allergic reaction to an antibiotic spiraled into a ministroke, seizures, and a fight for life in the ICU. The aftermath left me with brain trauma and compromised my immune system. Each night since then, I grapple with emotional dysregulation—a symptom that renders my emotions overwhelming and difficult to control.
My medical team and therapist have explained that this nightly battle is a normal side effect of brain trauma. By day's end, after the effort of thinking, being active, and fulfilling tasks, I'm spent. My capacity is diminished, and the toll is heavy.
Despite the indwelling strength of God, I am human, bearing the scars of a traumatic brain injury that, for reasons only He knows, has not been fully healed.
And yet, I trust Him.
Through tears and heartache, I trust Him.
Last night, as this wave of despair hit, my husband Kenya entered the room. His timely presence was a beacon of compassion, as he saw the weight I carried. He opened a book on Psalm 23, speaking of trust in God—even through the darkest valleys.
I confessed to Kenya the frustration of trying all I could to feel better, to claw back to normalcy, to manage the mental and emotional turmoil, to rise above the physical weakness. I spoke of the anxiety that brain trauma brings, making the ordinary seem fearsome, and PTSD that jolts me awake in panic.
In my efforts to recover—through vitamins, exercise, proper diet, scripture, prayer, and meditation on the promises of God—I still find myself in the throes of suffering.
Sometimes, a lack of clarity makes me feel personally responsible for my pain and turmoil. It's tempting to blame myself, to feel as if I've somehow earned this hardship through some fault of my own.
But the author of the book Kenya read suggested that we often prefer the notion of guilt over the helplessness of powerlessness. Hearing that "many people would rather feel guilty than powerless" unlocked this flood of emotions within me. Tears flowed freely as I realized the depth of guilt I had internalized. It's challenging to sit in darkness, in hardship, without understanding the 'why'. The feeling of powerlessness can be overwhelming.
Yet, in that moment of vulnerability, God spoke through my husband, reminding me that while I may be powerless, He is almighty. "Stop looking for the solution and trust Me. I am the solution," God seemed to whisper.
Throughout my life since my early twenties, I've faced illnesses that baffled doctors, with no explanation as to why. Last night, God delivered a message I didn't know I desperately needed: "It's not your fault."
Kenya's words struck me profoundly: "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve this. And yet, through it all, God is with you. He loves you."
Knowing something intellectually and feeling it in your soul are worlds apart, right? I know God loves me and is with me, but in the midst of life's storms, that knowledge can feel distant.
A different wilderness
You see, the journey I've been on for the past five years has been one of perseverance through the darkness, through confusion, through unpredictable days. Though God delivered me from the brink of death, He led me into a different wilderness—one marked by brain trauma and its resultant struggles.
This is what the flip side of faith looks like for me. It's enduring the unendurable, confronting consequences I didn't cause, and forging ahead through storms that seem everlasting. It's learning that deliverance from one trial may lead to another. But even as I walk through this valley, this desert, this tempest, I am assured of God's unwavering love and presence.
The flip side of faith has taught me to endure, to trust that the Lord is by my side, and to accept His way, even when it's not the path I would've chosen. There's not a fiber of my being that doubts His nature or His power.
Friend, I know life is hard, and I share this so that you might know you're not alone. Yes, I've witnessed miraculous deliverance, but I'm also familiar with the wilderness where I now find myself.
It's challenging, but again, and always, I trust God.
If you're wandering, if life is difficult, if conventional rescue hasn't appeared, if there's been no parting of the Red Sea in your life, mature faith says, “It's enough that God is with us.”
I trust Him to guide me through—however He deems best. This is what unboxing God looks and sounds like on the flip side of faith.
“Unboxing God is freeing Him from our limited expectations, embracing His sovereignty, and discovering a liberty like never before. ”
The God of the dry place
We all yearn for the victory story—how God led us from barrenness into abundance. But what about when He keeps us in the wilderness instead of leading us out? When He allows us to endure droughts, leaving us to feel parched and weak?
He is not only the God of refreshing springs; He is the God of the dry places as well.
Consider the Israelites in Exodus 17:1-7, who, after wandering in the desert, settled at Rephidim—a name meaning "resting place" in Hebrew. They likely sighed with relief, expecting rest and comfort. Yet, Rephidim offered no water. The distress of dehydration set in with its dizziness, headaches, rapid heartbeat, and muscle cramps. This was their harsh reality at what was supposed to be a place of rest.
Previously, in Exodus 16, the Israelites lamented their freedom, as it came without the regular meals they had in Egypt. Freedom felt less like liberation and more like deprivation.
Despite their grumbling, God provided Manna by morning and quail by evening. Yet, they longed for the predictability of Egypt.
Arriving at Rephidim after such trials, their anger was palpable, and they were on the verge of stoning Moses. In his desperation, Moses prayed, and God instructed him to strike a rock at Horeb to bring forth water. The place where water flowed was named Massah, "testing," and Meribah, "quarreling," for the people had quarreled and tested God, doubting His presence among them.
This juncture of rest and testing is uncomfortable but not uncommon. We've all been there—anticipating a break or a certain milestone, only to find ourselves tested instead. God allows this to teach us to find rest not in circumstances, but in His promises. It's not about resting in Rephidim, but in our Refuge, God Himself.
At the intersection of Rephidim and Massah, the good we expect doesn't materialize, leaving us bewildered and questioning. Yet, it's here that God calls us to trust Him. This is the flip side of faith, where rest isn't tied to a place or situation, but to Him alone.
Jesus said in Matthew 11:28-29, "Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Our true rest, dear friend, is in the Lord, regardless of our circumstances. When we rest in Him, our physical location or condition becomes irrelevant. Divine rest assures us of comfort everywhere, even in the driest wilderness.
He is our refuge, not Rephidim. Our tests remind us to rely on Him, always.
Inexplicable peace
I recall a personal trial when my brother Joey's critical condition due to COVID was made known to me. Despite earnest prayers and national intercession, he deteriorated. Through dreams and other confirmations, God revealed He wouldn't heal Joey. It wasn't due to a lack of faith but a recognition of God's sovereignty.
Amidst the sorrow, God granted me an inexplicable peace. Joey's passing—our first sibling loss—was profound, especially since he was a staunch believer in healing.
Through this, God affirmed that His omnipotence goes hand in hand with His supreme authority over outcomes, demanding our complete trust in His will. We retain the capacity to trust God and find peace in His promises and presence.
He pledges His unwavering presence in Matthew 28:20, especially as rendered in the Amplified translation. It says, “and lo, I am with you always [remaining with you perpetually—regardless of circumstance, and on every occasion], even to the end of the age."
This divine rest is the essence of abundant life.
While we may emerge battered, God mends our wounds, comforts our sorrows, and restores our spirits. 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 KJV reminds us that while we may not escape all storms, they will not overcome us: "We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;"
The flip side of faith declares: I am devastated, but not defeated; I am hurting, but not without hope; I am down, but not out. I face a temporary setback, not a permanent standstill.
A moment of surrender
The flip side of faith ushers us into a profound realization: when our prayers appear unanswered or outcomes diverge from our desires, it's not a reflection of defective faith or ineffective prayers. Instead, it represents a moment of surrender to God's sovereignty.
This is mirrored in Jesus's struggle in the Garden of Gethsemane. There, anticipating His impending crucifixion, Jesus experienced unspeakable agony. Sweating drops akin to blood, He faced the looming pain and sacrifice necessary to reconcile humanity with the Father.
Jesus, in His anguish, beseeched God, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done," as recounted in Luke 22:42-44.
The essence of the flip side of faith—the unboxing of God from our ideals and preferences—is captured in one word: "Nevertheless."
"Nevertheless" signifies a profound trust despite the circumstances. It's saying: God, I’d rather not go through this, nevertheless. I thought healing would come by now, nevertheless. I believed I'd be financially stable, nevertheless. I envisioned a joyful marriage with children, nevertheless. I saw myself stepping fully into my calling, nevertheless.
I thought the pain would cease by now, nevertheless. I assumed I'd have overcome these mental and emotional barriers, nevertheless. I anticipated rewards for my hard work, nevertheless. I expected to reconcile those broken relationships, nevertheless. I dreamed my efforts would bear fruit, nevertheless.
Not my will, but Yours. Not my expectations, but Your divine plan. Not my dreams, but Your purpose. Not what satisfies me, but what glorifies You.
Not my timeline, but Yours. Not my solutions, but Your providence. Not my aspirations, but Your purpose. Not my comfort, but Your transformation. Not what I perceive as success, but what You ordain as fruitful.
Nevertheless, in You, I find fortitude to endure. Nevertheless, in Your promises, I discover hope. Nevertheless, in Your presence, I encounter peace. Nevertheless, in Your word, I stand assured.
Nevertheless, my heart remains steadfast, trusting in the Lord.
Ah, the flip side of faith declares, amidst the tempest, I will still exalt You. When my heart aches, I will worship You. When doors remain closed, I will praise You in the hallway. When the answer is 'no,' my soul still says yes to You, O God.
Even as my plans crumble, I stand firm on Your promises and emphatically declare, "For I know the plans I have for you," says the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV).
Friend, the flip side of faith is rooted in the understanding that prosperity in God's kingdom isn't about all our dreams coming true. It's about the fulfillment of God's dreams within us—a vessel yielded to His molding, pliable in the Potter's hands.
Isaiah 45:9-10 NLT, which is the sweetener I’m stirring into your cup of inspiration, gently reminds us of our place in relation to our Maker, cautioning us against disputing with the One who shapes us, but accepting His will. It says:
"Does the clay dispute with the one who shapes it, saying, ‘Stop, you’re doing it wrong!’ Does the pot exclaim, ‘How clumsy can you be?’ How terrible it would be if a newborn baby said to its father, ‘Why was I born?’ or to its mother, ‘Why did you make me this way?’”
As you savor this anointed and divinely inspired cup, know that the flip side of faith does not diminish the validity of your questions; instead, it reframes them within the context of God's sovereignty.
We don't recoil from the unknown but embrace the mystery of His will. We find confidence in recognizing that each moment of our lives is intentionally crafted by a sovereign God whose wisdom surpasses our understanding. When we bring questions before God, we do so with a heart willing to say 'yes' and to trust Him anyway, knowing that He loves us with a perfect love and has a perfect plan for us.
Now, let’s pray.
God, today, we accept the invitation to surrender and find comfort in the knowledge that we are held in Your hands, the God who shapes our lives with infinite wisdom and boundless love. Even though we don’t always understand Your ways, help us to accept Your will, break free from the box of our expectations, and cry out in the words of Jesus, “Nevertheless, Your will be done.” For we trust You totally and completely. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
If you desire prayer, please allow me, along with my intercessory prayer team, to stand in faith with you for breakthrough. We would be so honored. We have seen God work over and over again. There is power in agreement. Click here to request prayer now.
As always, thanks for reading and until next time... may today's cup of inspiration uplift, encourage, and empower you!
