Scribed In Light

I shared something deeply vulnerable this week — my granddaughter’s new condition. A message no Nana ever wants to send. One of love, heartbreak, hope, and fierce protection…but instead of support, my post was met with a weaponized question: “Do they believe in Jesus?”

Not, “How are you?”

Not, “What can I do?”

Not even, “I’m praying with you.”

But a check-the-box judgment on someone’s salvation status. Just like that. Like their beliefs — or lack of understanding —somehow explains their suffering or disqualifies their worthiness of love and support.

It’s not the fist time I’ve seen it…and I know it won’t be the last…but I can’t stay silent any longer.

that question hurts more than they know

That question might feel harmless to the one asking, and I’m sure of it…perhaps even righteous — but when someone is in pain and facing something overwhelming, that question is not a balm — it’s a branding iron.

It tells the grieving:

If you don’t know Jesus like I do, maybe you deserve this.

You’re probably being punished.

You don’t qualify for a miracle.

You’re not one of us.

YEP…I said it! I am most certainly going there today y’all.

That question implies distance, otherness, failure. It slams the door shut when someone was merely peeking in. It silences faith conversations before they can even begin…and it turns people away from Jesus — not because of Him, but because of us.

what if we asked differently?

What if we stopped interrogating someone’s theology mid-tear?

What if we stopped measuring someone’s worth by how much we think they know about Jesus?

What if instead, we embodied Him? I see your pain and I am here for you. You’re not alone. Let me walk this mile with you.

The Jesus I know sat with the broken, the misjudged, the misunderstood. He never handed out a salvation quiz before offering comfort. He never needed someone to get it all right before he showed up. That’s not how he works…at all.

the truth? Grace comes first.

Belief grows in soil that’s been watered with unconditional love, acceptance, and kindness. So before we go tossing around questions like “Do you believe, do you know Jesus…maybe we need to ask ourselves:

Do I reflect Him?

Do my words invite?

Do my words push away?

Am I speaking from fear, from confusion and doubt….or from love?

from this nana’s heart…

I won’t let judgment drown out the miracle I believe is coming…still unfolding in my granddaughters life. I won’t let self-righteous worrds steal space from grace…and I will keep showing up in truth, tenderness, and a fierce, unshakeable love that looks a whole lot like Jesus. That is what brings people closer to Him…not shame, not questioning, not pride….just LOVE.

I am not shook because of my lack of faith. I am shaken because of how careless and cold that question is — especially from one who knows our roots, our walk, our legacy of faith, and the depth of our families trust in Jesus. I’m shook at how dismantled it suggests ones inner and most personal truth is. It wasn’t just a question of great ignorance, naivety….yet it was a dismissal of our entire families faith walk, in one sentence.

That question does not just present ones believe —it suggests ones suffering is proof that they do not. It stings , and it fuels the heartbreak…and I chose to speak on this subject because so many others feel the same slap but never find the words which I wish to give voice to.

It shakes me how easily some people toss out someone’s faith when life gets hard ― as if pain is proof they failed. As if struggle is punishment. As if sorrow is a signpost that says, “They must not really know Him.”

But what if our struggles are actually where we meet Him most? What if faith isn’t the absence of adversities — but the anchor in the middle of it?

PLEASE…know this isn’t about throwing stones…this is about finally picking one up and saying “Why are there so many under this rug?”

I’m not trying to expose anyone. I’m trying to expose the harm and hindrance in the habit — this reflexive, weaponized way of questioning someone’s faith right when they are their most vulnerable. Because its not that I don’t want Jesus in the conversations…it’s the way He is brought in, and THAT, is the heartbeat of this post. It’s the line that separates truth-telling from finger-pointing… and what allows this blog to walk in grace and fire, and merely calling people gently but boldly into awareness…a reorientation, a shifting of the mirrors reflection. I am not finger-pointing. I am merely flipping the light switch on for truth to be transparently seen. Because people don’t need to be browbeaten into, or with belief. They need to be loved, they need to be held, they need to be listened to, to be welcomed in — and maybe…just maybe…loved into belief.

I shared why I chose this specific topic for today’s blog post. Now let me share a personal story which may bring even more clarity to this subject.

I spent nearly 20 years attending a specific local church. I raised my children in this church. I was a youth leader for years in this church. I not only adored my church, but I – and my family – grew spiritually in this church.

Yet, when adversity like I have never suffered before struck my family, I was met with finger-pointing judgment. It was done out of naivety and innocence. Yet it hurt deeply just the same. My son had been struck with a simple virus…one that had already taken the life of a friend of his in elementary school. When my son developed encephalitis, then seized for nine and a half hours straight, and was placed into a phenobarbital coma for nearly five weeks before waking – and having to relearn all basic life functions over the course of four harrowing months after finally making it back home and barely hanging onto his life…

I cannot begin to count how many from my church family came by in love and support. But those were still the very questions that were asked:

Aren’t you praying?

Perhaps your prayers are unanswered because you aren’t praying right.

Perhaps he is not healed because your faith is lacking.

And this one sealed fate like nails in a coffin: Do you smell demons around him? He must be possessed.

These were not questions asked of just myself…but my 9-year-old son who was still hanging on to life. Oh, the tears and terror he suffered of those words. Did they not think, of all people, that a mother humbly kneeling at the cross for her son might be praying correctly? Wasn’t praying and believing with enough faith?

Was Mother Mary not true within her faith? Was she not true in her fervent prayers for her son, Jesus himself?

I quietly receded into my own faith bubble after that, and haven’t attended church since.

I did not lose my faith.

I did not stop believing.

I did not stop praying..

…I merely did so in solo, behind closed doors – just me and Jesus.

But Oh… my heart…

The effect it had upon myself and my family struck like an unexpected slap. It hurt in such a way that the pain was too much to carry – alongside the already overwhelming bucket I was carrying.

Now here’s what I needed most:

• I needed a place to lean.
• I needed space to feel secure, unjudged, and loved.
• I needed unconditional support. The kind where Sally FIelds could have slapped the snot right out of Weezy and still been loved (from the movie ‘Steel Magnolias’).

My moms-heart was shattered, fatigued both mentally and bodily. My God to look back on it all and recall…and I can tell you from personal experience that the last thing I needed was more weight added to that bucket.

I know those words/questions are not meant to wound. I do. They were likely born from fear, discomfort, awkwardness of not knowing how to help, or what to say, or even desperate attempts to make sense of the unimaginable. Yet even when not intended to hurt, they did…and still do.

So if you’re reading this, and you’ve ever offered words like those – Please for the love of God – Stop.

Pause long enough to see the person in pain. They don’t need answers, fixes, or spiritual explanations. They need love.

And if you’ve ever heard words like those?

I see you.

You’re not alone.

And that pain is real.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” – Romans 12:15

“Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.” -Proverbs 16:24

So if you are ever tempted to speak into another’s pain?

• Pause.
• See them.
• Love them.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” – Psalm 34:18

With truth, tenderness, and the hope that we all learn to love with more grace…

Tina Campbell|Scribed in Light