Backsliding

It rained the day before and the damp earth beneath my feet sank with each step. The early morning sun surely felt like displaying mockery, casting a pale light over the world. It was a perfect day to start questioning everything I once believed in.

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My name is Dinma, and I used to believe in God with every fiber of my being. But now, as I stood in the doubtful thoughts, I found myself wondering how I had actually ended up here.

It was a journey that indeed started with series of quiet choices that didn’t seem like anything initially. There was no moment of betrayal. It was the slow disappearance of faith. I could feel it, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on when it all began.

I grew up in a devout Christian home. Sundays were a ritual of course; the sound of hymns, and the weight of prayer were as familiar to me as breathing. My faith was like my fortress; so solid and unwavering. I had felt that in my very core, well not until the cracks had begun to form.

It was during my time at the Rivers State University that things began to shift.
My lecturers spoke with so much conviction and their ideas were so sharp and polished. The theories they shared didn’t seem to match the simple truths I had been taught. I met folks who thought very differently, who questioned everything, and somehow, they made more sense. The more I listened, the more unsure I became.

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I still remember the first conversation that shook me. I was sitting that morning, with no lecturer in class, I put on my headset and almost immediately, I felt a tap from behind me, interrupting my music.

“Dinma, right?” I heard someone call out from behind me.

I turned to see my friend Jemimah standing there, a smile on her face. We had been in a few classes together, but we had never really spoken.

“Yeah, I’m Dinma,” I said, slightly distracted as I adjusted my headset around my neck.

Jemimah’s smile faltered, and her tone shifted. “You seem like someone who has it all figured out. Are you one of those Christian types?”

I could feel my heart racing. "What do you mean?"

“I don’t know. Just curious. You’re so calm, and its almost like you’re living in another world.”

I hesitated for a moment, before breaking the silence. “I am a Christian,” I said with my voice almost a whisper.

Jemimah raised an eyebrow. “Is that not a bit limiting, though? I mean, you’ve got all these grand ideas of faith, but what happens when the world shows you other things? Do you think all those answers you were given will still hold water?”

I froze. What if I had been living in a mirage, clinging to outdated concepts and stories I just read about. The seed of doubt she planted started to take root, and over time, it grew into a mighty tree.

I didn’t confront it right away. No not at all. Instead, I did well to avoid it. I buried myself in schoolwork and did well to distract myself with social events, but that nagging feeling lingered. At church, I would sing the hymns and pray the prayers, but something felt hollow. I wasn’t sure if I was speaking to God or to the echoes of my own voice.

Months passed and obviously, I began to skip church, telling myself that I was too tired or that there were more important things to do. My friends noticed, but I brushed off their concerns with some flimsy excuses.

One evening, I found myself alone in my apartment, staring at my Bible. It had been weeks since I opened it. I flipped through the pages guiltily and aimlessly. The words felt so unfamiliar.
I could feel the weight of the silence pressing down on me. My heart yearned for something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I thought of the prayers I used to say and the faith that used to come so naturally to me. Nowhere to be found.

I tried to pray. I tried to ask for guidance, but my words felt empty. The more I prayed, the more distant I felt from God. It was as though I was sliding backwards, away from Him, unable to find my way back.

Days turned into weeks, and the doubts grew louder. I had always believed that my faith would be unshakeable, but now, it seemed as though I was struggling to balance on a shaky ground. I began to question everything—Was God real? Did He care? Was faith just an excuse for weak people who couldn’t face the truth of the world?

One rainy afternoon, I met with my mama at her boutique. We hadn’t seen in weeks since she was always making interstate travels. We had so much to talk and laugh about and slowly I found myself telling her everything. How I had slipped away from church, how I no longer felt that connection, how the questions kept swirling in my mind.

“Dinma, I get it,” Mama said, her voice soft but firm. “You’re questioning things. But don’t let the questions make you lose sight of what you know deep down. Faith isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about trusting God even when things don’t make sense. You’ve always known that, right?”

I was quiet for a long time, Could it really be that simple? Could I trust God even when I didn’t have all the answers? The thought seemed both terrifying and freeing at the same time.

“Do you remember when you were still a baby, and I used to talk to you about having a relationship with God?” Mama continued, with her eyes glued to mine. “It’s not about religion. It’s about connection. It’s not about following all the rules with perfection; it’s about walking with Him through the hurdles”

Her words hit me so hard. I didn’t have to have everything figured out. I didn’t have to be perfect. I just had to keep walking, even when I stumbled. I really got to understand that Sliding backwards didn’t have to mean falling completely. It could be a chance to pause, to reflect, and to find my way back.

In the following weeks, I slowly began to rebuild. I started attending church again, not because I had all the answers, but because I needed a place to start over. I began praying again, not as a ritual, but as a way of reconnecting with God. I even joined the school fellowship. I fully allowed myself to fight against the doubts and questions, but I also allowed myself to believe that there was still something greater at work in my life.

I didn’t have it all figured out, and I may never fully understand everything. But one thing was clear and it was the fact that I was no longer sliding backwards. I was moving forward, step by step, making sure to trust that the journey itself was part of the faith I had once lost. And in that faith, I found the courage to keep going, even when the road ahead was unclear. Obviously, no one knows it all.