Who Do You Go To When God Is the One Who Betrayed You? | Roserbie Theoc

Write this down.

Because I'm about to tell you where I went.

There's a question that lives in the back of a lot of women's throats.

They don't say it out loud.

Because it sounds like too much.

Like it would break something.

Like someone might take their Bible card away.

The question is this:

If God can do anything... why isn't he doing anything?

I asked it.

Not once.

More than I can count.

And one season — one particular season of financial pressure that had gone on so long I'd lost track of when it started — my heart started to harden.

Not toward people.

Toward him.

I'm his child.

There is no reason I should be going through this.

Not again.

Not still.

And then something happened that scared me more than the financial ruin ever did.

I couldn't feel God.

Woman sitting alone in dark room with single shaft of golden light, depicting spiritual emptiness and feeling distant from God

The Void

I know what spiritual dryness sounds like in theory.

I'd heard people talk about the "dark night of the soul."

Read the Psalms where David screamed into the silence.

But when it's yours

when the void opens up inside your chest

and the thing that used to be there just... isn't —

There are no words for it that don't fall short.

It was deep.

It was empty.

And it felt like death.

I remember thinking:

God is tired of me.

I'm too much.

I've pushed too far this time.

The Heavenly reports must've read something like:

"Most High... she's down there at it again."

And you know what was strange?

That emptiness didn't pull me away from God.

It terrified me about the idea of living without him.

Because I realized something that I had never understood before.

Not feeling God felt like dying.

He Came Anyway

He came for my hardened-heart-self.

He didn't wait for me to clean it up.

He didn't wait for me to repent my way back.

He just walked me back to him.

Literally.

And when I felt him again —

it was like I had been holding my breath for weeks

and someone finally said you can breathe.

I took a big gasp of air.

And then I screamed.

Not from pain.

From relief.

My mom burst through the door, scared.

And all I could say — over and over, through the ugly cry — was:

I can feel God.

I can feel God.

Woman standing in golden hour field with arms open, representing the moment of returning to God after a faith crisis and spiritual dry season

The Vow

It was after that day that I made a vow.

Not to him.

With him.

I said: no matter how mad, sad, or brokenhearted I feel about you —

I'm going to be mad, sad, and brokenhearted at your feet.

I'm not going anywhere.

Because not feeling you, God, felt like death.

And I never want to feel that way again.

When I feel betrayed by God?

I go straight to him.

I sit at his feet until he sorts me out.

Because here's what I've learned:

There's nowhere else to go.

When you've known the presence of God —

really known it —

nothing else fills what he fills.

Nothing.

What This Taught Me About Building

It was after that day that I made a vow.

Not to him.

With him.

I said: no matter how mad, sad, or brokenhearted I feel about you —

I'm going to be mad, sad, and brokenhearted at your feet.

I'm not going anywhere.

Because not feeling you, God, felt like death.

And I never want to feel that way again.

When I feel betrayed by God?

I go straight to him.

I sit at his feet until he sorts me out.

Because here's what I've learned:

There's nowhere else to go.

When you've known the presence of God —

really known it —

nothing else fills what he fills.

Nothing.

If That's You Right Now

If you're reading this and you recognize the void —

the distance,

the silence,

the brokenhearted-with-God feeling —

I want to say something to you that nobody in most church circles will say:

It's okay to be mad at him.

It's okay to not be okay.

The goal isn't to feel better faster.

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The goal is to not go anywhere.

Sit at his feet even if you're sitting there in anger.

Even if the only prayer you have is:

I don't understand you right now.

That's still a prayer.

He can work with that.

And while you're there —

while you're in that in-between place

of too hurt to praise and too in love to leave —

do the inner work too.

Not the performance kind.

The real kind.

The kind that looks at what's driving you.

Fear or peace.

Striving or rest.

Performing or actually believing you're safe.

If you need a place to start that work, the Builders' Radiant Reset is 7 days of going back to the foundation — built specifically for women who are building in the fire.

It's not a devotional.

It's a rebuild.

And it starts exactly where you are right now.

Here's What I need You to do This Week

This week, I want you to try something.

When you feel the distance — don't run toward productivity.

Don't fill the void with output.

Sit with it.

Write one honest sentence to God.

Not a prayer that sounds like a prayer.

Just one real, true, ugly sentence.

I'm angry.

I'm scared.

I don't understand what you're doing.

I'm still here.

That's it.

One sentence.

At his feet.

Because the women who make it through the fire aren't the ones who never doubted.

They're the ones who stayed in the room.

Stay in the room.


You Are Not Alone.


FAQ's

Q: What do you do when you feel like God has betrayed you? Go to him anyway. Sit at his feet with the anger, the hurt, the confusion. The goal isn't to fix the feeling fast. The goal is to not leave. The women who rebuild after spiritual crisis aren't the ones who never doubted — they're the ones who stayed in the room.

Q: Is it okay to be angry at God? Yes. Anger at God is still a relationship with God. The Psalms are full of it. David screamed, questioned, and accused — and God called him a man after his own heart. The honest cry is more powerful than the polished one.

Q: What does it mean when you can't feel God? It doesn't mean he left. It doesn't always mean you did something wrong. Sometimes it means you're in a season of building faith beyond feeling. But the discomfort of not feeling him is worth paying attention to — it's often a signal that something inside needs tending. Not fixing. Tending.

Q: How do you rebuild your faith after a spiritual dry season? Start small and honest. One real sentence to God. Then do the interior work — the kind that asks what's actually driving you. Fear or peace. Striving or faith. That's where the reset happens.

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