Church, Ego, and the Illusion of Godly Intentions



During one of my late-night drives — the kind where you roll the windows down and let the wind sort through your thoughts — I remembered an old “friend.” Funny how memories like to resurface just when you think you’ve buried them under healing.

She and I met at church. Back then, I was still trying to convince myself that spiritual community meant safety. But what I found was a place filled with people who could call me out but never look in the mirror themselves. Accountability seemed to skip certain pews.

One day after service, she called and said she needed to stop by. When she arrived, she smiled and said, “God told me to bless you.” Then she asked if I needed money for something. I said yes, my light bill. At that time, I was a single mother trying to survive, and that help truly made a difference.

But the peace didn’t last.
A strange energy came over me soon after. I could feel something was off, like the blessing came with invisible strings. Then she admitted she had asked her mother-in-law if she’d made the right choice in giving me the money. That’s when I knew the “God told me” might’ve been ego speaking in disguise.

That night, I dreamed of her husband cursing her out for helping me. His rage was so intense it jolted me awake. I knew it wasn’t just a dream; it was a revelation. I was seeing what was said behind closed doors.

In that moment, I learned two powerful lessons:

  1. Everyone who says “God told me” isn’t always hearing from God.

  2. A gift given with doubt is not a blessing; it’s a burden disguised as generosity.

I wanted to return the money, but something within told me to be still. That’s when it clicked: sometimes, God allows exposure not to shame others, but to open your eyes. That “friendship” was never rooted in love or respect; it was rooted in pity, control, and spiritual hierarchy.

That season taught me to stop confusing religion with relationship. I realized the same patterns I’d grown up with: narcissism, control, and emotional manipulation were being replayed in a church setting. But I wasn’t there to be conditioned; I was there to cut the root.

If you’ve ever felt like your spirit was suffocating in spaces that were supposed to heal you, know this: it’s okay to walk away. You are not disobedient for protecting your peace. You are discerning.





Thank you for reading! I hope today’s post sparked reflection, inspiration, or maybe even a little healing. Be sure to check back next week for a new dose of truth, growth, and real talk here on Unaltered Voices, where authenticity always has a seat at the table.

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