I must begin with a confession.
There was a season in my life, not too long ago, when I could stand in prayers, Bible in hand, and mouth full of Scripture, yet secretly wrestling with unbelief in the very promises I was declaring. I knew the Word, yes. I quoted it fluently. I laid hands on the sick. I prayed over troubled marriages and dedicated newborns with confidence. But deep down, when it came to believing God for my own breakthrough, my own healing, my own provision, I often hesitated.
Not out loud. Not where anyone could hear it. But in the hidden chambers of my heart, where only God sees, I had silently concluded that certain things were too far gone. I masked it as “realism.” I called it “maturity.” I even labeled it “accepting God’s will.” But truth be told, it was simply unbelief.
And it was sin.
I didn’t realize how serious it was until one night, after preaching a fiery sermon about the faith of Abraham, I sat alone in my room, exhausted but wide awake. That night, the Holy Spirit confronted me. I can still remember the gentle, yet piercing voice: “Daughter, how long will you preach what you do not believe? You have trusted Me with the eternal destiny of your soul, yet you won’t trust Me with your daily bread.”
I broke.
I wept for hours. Not just because I had been found out (God always knew) but because I finally understood the weight of unbelief. It wasn’t just a flaw or a weakness. It wasn’t just a momentary lapse in confidence. It was sin. Sin that grieved the heart of God. Sin that had kept me circling the same mountain of delay and dryness for years.
You see, unbelief doesn’t merely question if God exists. It questions whether He is who He says He is. It’s not just a lack of faith; it’s an insult to His character. The children of Israel experienced this firsthand. God had split seas for them, rained manna from heaven, and delivered them with a mighty hand. Yet in Numbers 14:11, the Lord cried out in frustration, “How long will these people reject Me? And how long will they not believe Me, with all the signs which I have performed among them?”
That verse pierced me like a sword. Because I realized—I was no different.
I had seen God heal my own father-in-law of a tumor of the eosophagus. I had seen Him open barren wombs in our church. I had watched Him provide rent money through unexpected strangers, restore marriages on the brink of divorce, and deliver addicts on their deathbeds. I had seen too much not to believe.
And yet, in quiet moments, I allowed doubt to set up a throne in my heart.
That’s the subtle danger of unbelief. It doesn’t shout like rebellion. It whispers. It poses as caution, logic, or even humility. But beneath its polite appearance, unbelief calls God a liar. It says, “God, I don’t trust Your timing. I don’t trust Your nature. I don’t believe You’ll do what You said You would do.”
In Hebrews 3:12, the Bible warns us: “Beware, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief in departing from the living God.” That word evil struck me. Not weak. Not immature. Evil. God sees unbelief as evil because it disconnects us from Him—the source of all life. It’s no wonder that in Jesus’ hometown, the Bible says He could do no mighty works there because of their unbelief (Matthew 13:58). Think of that: the Son of God—Healer, Miracle Worker, Resurrection and the Life—limited by unbelief.
I don’t want to live a life that limits what God can do. Do you?
Let me tell you what began to change when I repented of unbelief. I’m not talking about casual apologies. I mean, I repented. I got on my knees and said, “Lord, forgive me for every time I’ve doubted You after all You’ve done. Create in me a clean heart, and renew a right spirit within me.”
That simple act of repentance opened a floodgate.
Suddenly, the Scriptures came alive again. I could feel faith rising in me when I prayed, not just hope. I stopped praying timid prayers. I began to speak with boldness, as one who knows her Father hears. I started to believe for big things again—impossible things. And not just for others. For myself. For my family. For our ministry.
Doors that had remained closed for years began to swing open—some with little effort, others with fierce spiritual warfare, but always with the confidence that God was with me.
One night during a revival meeting, a woman came forward in tears. She had a growth in her breast and feared it was cancer. Normally, I would have prayed a safe prayer: “Lord, comfort her and give her peace.” But that night, something in me rose up. I laid hands on her and declared, “In the name of Jesus, this growth must disappear. Healing belongs to the children of God.”
Three weeks later, she returned—sobbing, shouting, and waving her medical report. The tumor had vanished.
Not because I was more powerful. But because I believed.
And that’s what God desires for every one of us—not just preachers, not just intercessors or elders. He wants His children to believe again. Not with lip service. Not with reluctant hope. But with the fiery, unshakable, mountain-moving faith that says, “I know my Redeemer lives, and He will not fail.”
Friends, if you’ve found yourself drifting into doubt, I plead with you as one who’s been there: don’t stay there. Don’t let disappointment, delay, or discouragement convince you that God has forgotten you. Unbelief may feel reasonable, but it is poison to your destiny. It will rob you of miracles. It will keep you wandering in dry places when you were meant to take possession of the land.
God is still faithful. He is still able. He is still speaking. The question is—do you believe Him?
Let me leave you with the words of Jesus in John 11:40: “Did I not say to you that if you would believe you would see the glory of God?”
That’s the invitation. That’s the challenge.
I’ve chosen to believe again. Will you?
