Hear me out <3

Come back to your first love. Please.

🎵: [A few things inspired this piece, and this song is one of them]

“What happened to you?”

“How do you mean?” I raised my brows, trying to mask the sudden weight of his question.

He replied, “Like, you just changed. What’s up with the whole carrying Jesus on your head?”

We weren’t even that close. If it had been about anything else, I might have been irritated that he was trying to poke into my personal space. But this was different.

Was I really that obvious? I hadn’t realized my conforming to God’s word was getting apparent, even to those outside my inner circle. Back then, it had only been over a year since I started walking in the truth, and asides my family telling me “calm down, you won’t be the first person to know Jesus,” no one had confronted me about my journey like he did.

It made me pause.

However, as I tried to take that moment as an opportunity to witness, the acquaintance chuckled—more like scoffed—“You’ll be over it in no time.”

Until recently, I hadn't thought about that conversation. But I’ve found the phrase, “What happened to you?” linger in my subconscious a little more these days.

But now, in a different context.

I can’t help but feel for those who have stepped away from the faith, whose paths have led them away from the intimacy they once had with God. Is it just me? Stories I hear from afar—through their posts, their mentions, their silences. And every time, it feels like a knife pocking in my chest.

I ask, “what happened to you?” not from a place of judgment, but from a place of heartbreak.

The ones I know personally, I’ve tried to approach them with empathy—to feel with them rather than question them.

It’s painful, isn’t it? Watching people—some, you once walked alongside—drift further and further away from what once brought them joy, peace, and purpose. I can’t help but wonder happened to the tender beginnings of faith, when Christ was their “first love?”

Some were once passionate believers, deeply involved, full of fire. But perhaps life, pain, and disappointment have a way of altering that course.

It’s one thing to face trauma. It’s another to face it in a space that was meant to be sacred. When the sacred space of the church becomes a journey through pain, failure, disappointment, and rejection, how many of us can truly stay standing?

If we hadn’t witnessed the way some of them loved and served God, it would have been easy to believe they never knew Him in the first place. But that's not always true.

Have you heard the questions, “Where was God when...?” “How could they...?” “Is any of this even real?”

Those questions come from places of deep hurt; places where faith once bloomed and is now lying in ruins.

Awhile ago, I was listening to a podcast where Juliana Oloyede spoke about her experience with church hurt and abuse. She talked about how she was so broken that she instantly blocked anyone who offered to pray for her.

Some might hear that and think, “Isn’t that extreme? They were just trying to help!” But you wouldn’t understand unless you’ve been there. And even if you have, no two people handle trauma the same way.

Juliana explained that until God began to heal her, she wanted nothing to do with the church—neither the institution nor the people. That’s real pain. And it’s not just hers. Many people have been hurt by those who were supposed to be a representative of God’s love.

Moreover, we’ve all contributed, in one way or another, to the brokenness in this world, havent’t we? We can be quick to focus on the wrongs done to us, and not the one we do to others. This isn’t to trivialize the pain anyone has experienced, but to broaden the lens through which we sometimes see these things.

From my heart to yours,

Beloved, even in the darkest confusion, there is a way back. The hurt is real, as well as the questions and the fears, but even more real is a relentless love–calling you back into everlasting arms.

It is a space to feel broken and still be embraced, to bring every scar and be helped. Even in disillusionment, healing is possible.

I've heard it said that, “God wants us to feel everything with Him, not apart from Him.”

Even though your heart might be far from where it once was, there is a way back to the faith that eternally saves and transforms.

It’s the way you once knew and perhaps lived. Come back to your first love. Please.

Yours in Quality time,

Adebola. 🦋