NO SIGNAL
N E V E R S E N T
2:17 · 3:17 · Explicit
God…
I need to ask You something.
Not the church answer.
Why’d You let it get that bad?
Why’d You make me fight my own head before I knew what that meant?
Why’d You give me just enough strength to survive things I still resent?
Family values turned family manipulation.
Love came with conditions. Guilt became communication.
“Do this if you love me.” “Stay if you care.”
Everybody preaching loyalty while nobody played fair.
I learned peace meant keeping everybody happy.
Learned saying no made me selfish. Boundaries made me nasty.
Learned love could sound like, “You owe me after all I’ve done.”
So I became everybody’s answer before I ever became someone.
And God…
I know people say You don’t give us more than we can take.
But some nights it felt like You gave me exactly enough to break.
Not enough to end me.
Just enough to bring me down.
Just enough to make me admit I couldn’t carry everybody around.
I kept screaming, “God, where You at?”
Like Heaven lost my number.
Like You watched me lose myself and let me disappear under.
Thought You cut the signal.
Thought You left me on my own.
Maybe You let me break just enough to finally bring me home.
No signal.
That’s what I called it.
Thought You stopped answering me.
Maybe You were the only voice left when everybody else got through with me.
I got real good at looking normal.
That’s the dangerous part.
Still worked. Still laughed. Still showed up. Still played my part.
Nobody saw the arguments I was having in my head.
Nobody saw me lying there replaying everything somebody said.
Every tone. Every look. Every “maybe this is your fault.”
Every family fight where somehow I apologized for it all.
I started questioning my memory.
Questioning what I knew.
Wondering if I really was the problem because everybody said I was too…
Too sensitive. Too distant. Too angry. Too hard.
Funny how they call you difficult when you finally guard your heart.
And yeah…
I blamed You for some of that.
Asked why a God who loved me would keep letting me live like that.
Why’d You give me a mind that I couldn’t shut off at night?
Why’d You teach me faith then make me fight just to feel it alive?
Why’d You make me need You in ways I never would’ve chosen?
Maybe because I never would’ve surrendered while I still thought I controlled it.
I kept screaming, “God, where You at?”
Like Heaven lost my number.
Like You watched me lose myself and let me disappear under.
Thought You cut the signal.
Thought You left me on my own.
Maybe You let me break just enough to finally bring me home.
No signal.
That’s what I called it.
Thought You stopped answering me.
Maybe You were the only voice left when everybody else got through with me.
And I’m still not gonna pretend I understand all of it.
Some of it didn’t make me stronger.
Some of it just hurt.
Some family I still love can’t get access to me like before.
I’m learning forgiveness doesn’t mean reopening every door.
I’m learning blood doesn’t make manipulation holy.
I’m learning “family first” doesn’t mean family gets to control me.
And maybe faith isn’t pretending none of it broke me.
Maybe faith is saying,
“God, I’m angry.
God, I’m tired.
God, I don’t understand.”
And finding out…
You can handle that.
I spent years screaming, “God, where You at?”
Like Heaven lost my number.
Like You handed me this mind then left me underneath the thunder.
Thought You cut the signal.
Thought You left me here alone.
Maybe You gave me just enough breaking to finally bring me home.
No signal.
That’s what I called it.
But maybe You never left.
Maybe I finally got quiet enough to hear You through everything else.
God, where You at?
Wrong question.
God…
I’m listening.