“I won’t deny ya, I’m a straight rider, you don’t wanna f**k with me…” My eyes shot open. Then the sinister piano chord came in. I was hooked.
My spiritual journey has been a rollercoaster of sorts. The irony is while most of my family is deeply rooted in their respective spiritual walks, it has taken me a while to find my footing.
I like to think that when I was born, the nurse placed me in my mother’s arms and there I laid, nestled at her breast ever so comfortably. In my mind, I think about how my mother might’ve felt the first time she saw me; she saw all the hopes and dreams she had for my future....I was battling a serious bout of depression, which led me to be diagnosed with Bipolar II Disorder. However, because I am a black woman in a society that doesn’t see me or the importance of mental health, it is very difficult to envision a future for myself.
I scan the dimly lit auditorium and see cream, beige and black congregants filling the auditorium with bellowing, yet energetic vigor. Young, married and old — all in unison. Another thing I notice as I look around — this place is lowkey packed. It isn’t just your handful of “ye faithfuls.” I have never seen anything like this before. Everyone on one accord, a semi-packed “sanctuary” and church members of all ages — sanging. Little did I know, there was more to this seemingly utopian worship experience.
I spend many nights reflecting on a sentiment I was taught since birth — never question God. As I meander into adulthood, my faith has truly begun to be tested. When I am struck by adversity, I impulsively rationalize if my God is even with me. But then I remind myself — never question God.
BABL 