From Doubt to Encounter: When God Became Real to Me

Early Questions & Childhood Faith

“Why do you believe in Jesus?” someone may ask. I’ll give you a very simple answer.

Because I’ve never had all the answers. It may sound silly, but I’m going to take you along with me through my own walk of life.

Belief, or awareness of something beyond me, has always been something I’ve been drawn to for a very long time. As someone who has experienced tragedy and suffering (even at my age of 21), I’ve always tried to make sense of the brokenness and pain we continue to go through in this lifetime.

And my mind is designed to be analytical, to make meaning. And I had heard the cliché answers long enough :

“We live in a broken world.”

“Purpose is found in suffering.”

“We’re human; there’s a lot beyond us.”

Or on the other extreme.

“We were created with only one purpose: to know God.”

“We are spiritual beings having a temporary earthly experience.”

“When we die, we go to heaven.”

None of these truly answered the question burning in my heart: “Why am I alive?”

And so began the process of a small question that slowly grew into something much bigger.

For me, there was no one clear answer that sat right with my heart. To put it into context, I grew up in a Christian home (and still do), a regular church attendee from a child, but more out of family tradition than personal conviction.

I knew the jargon. I had an understanding of what was taught as the gospel of Christ. I knew what salvation meant. I knew that every time I ate a meal, I had to pray, “Father, bless this food, in Jesus name we pray, Amen!”

As if, if I didn’t remember God before eating the food I needed to live, something bad was going to happen. “Eating with the devil,” people called it. And for better or for worse, religion was handed down to me, and brilliantly at that.

Don’t lie. Don’t steal. If you lie, you go to hell. Be good. Don’t be bad. You either go to heaven or go to hell.

It all seemed good. Every time I looked in the mirror, I knew I was alive, but never knew why.

I knew there was something greater beyond what I saw physically, but I never had an answer for it. But heaven and hell? 

It sounded plausible enough.

Challenges and Confusion

By the time I reached primary school, what we commonly call “just life experiences growing up” started to teach me a few things. I’ve always been a deep thinker with a strong mind, but a big heart, and glimpses of the world’s imbalance began to appear.

People would bully, mock, and reject me. They would make fun of others and do questionable things in the eyes of others, and get away with it. Whereas “good people” like me had to learn how to suffer early.

The idea that there was an eternal reward for being a “good person” waiting for me in heaven — where the angels are, and the streets are apparently made of gold, and that bad people go to hell — was enough for little me to feel justified, believing I was good and others were bad.

Because I thought that if I was good, that was enough. And so I knew I was enough. And kept pushing. I kept going. 

When I arrived at secondary school, another layer of intelligence was peeled away, and understanding unfolded. I went to a Roman Catholic secondary school, so regular mass, prayers in lessons, and a background of Catholicism should have been enough to silently confirm my values.

But those values were challenged the moment I looked around at my peers: curiosity, false freedom, adventurous children — much like I could have been — believing they were free to explore attraction and life. Often, when we see older people living enjoyable lives, we try to live the same way, just to taste the freedom we believe we once lacked.

It looked good, so it must be good, right?

And I, in holding to what I’d been taught as a child, kept repeating the same narrative that kept me from indulging in the same life: “They’re bad people. I’m a good person. I’m going to heaven.” 

But silently, jealousy grew within my heart. 

These people were virtually doing whatever they wanted, and I had to uphold the commandments I firmly believed in as a child. On top of that, people grew into the same life I envied to have, only with no conviction!

Yet even thinking about walking in that life filled me with fear and guilt. I worried that I would be a bad person and go to hell. And as I progressed through secondary school, the less I saw the present rewards of upholding what I believed in.

The questions then became: “How are they doing this and getting away with it?” and “Why do I have to wait for heaven to be blessed by God?”

At this point, you’d expect me to question my faith. But the security of what I knew, coupled with living in a Christian home, gave me a false sense of safety. Instead of examining my beliefs, I began to participate in the ‘bad life’ I had sworn I wouldn’t live.

“If they’re doing it, I can do it too.”

My Christian upbringing prevented me from crossing a few lines. But rest assured, I tried to avoid getting caught. 

One thing leads to another, and suddenly you live a life you’re comfortable with. And the God you solemnly swear is “watching you” remains quiet on your life. 

I had an idea that God was watching, and an idea of what sin was, but never personally felt that He indeed was watching me, let alone aware of my sins.

Searching for God at University

Problems and tragedies increased in my personal life, but I either dismissed them, tackled them, or numbed myself. As long as I could indulge in many comforts and return to habits that soothed the pain, nothing seemed to matter.

From betrayal by close friends to eroded trust in relationships, the pain was numbed through coping mechanisms and self-soothing. Diversions happened. Doors closed on me. Opportunities were snatched away. By the time I reached sixth form, I learned to mask depression through random activity and private habits.

Again, I had an idea I was sinning, and that God knew, but never felt as if He was watching me, let alone aware of my sin.

After finishing A Levels, awaiting results, I prayed to God for good results and to open the door to go to the university of my hopes, although this was blind, not born in faith, but in fear.

I attached clauses to it:

“Lord, if you give me this, I’ll actually take you seriously in uni.”

“I’ll go to church and try.”

“I’ll follow you for real this time if I get it.”

Surely enough, the door opened, and relief came. Yet I still had not experienced God knowing me, or me knowing Him. He had only answered my prayer. I did not approach Him again until I arrived at university, the stark answer to my prayers staring me in the face.

And with a small grumble and envy for others living unchecked lives, I said to myself, “Let’s try this Jesus thing out.”

I still remained jealous of my peers and wanted to live recklessly and experience all the freedoms they had, but I felt I had to uphold the promises I made to God. I didn’t know better at the time; I was just afraid He would take everything away if I didn’t follow Him.

Crisis of Faith and a Tangible Encounter

And so I went to work on it. 

I decided to stop my private habits and intentionally stop sinning. I avoided a lot of social activity. I went to church and tried to do better for God, thinking that if I physically did more in church and became a good person out of my own strength, I’d please God.

I even took on the role of a prayer leader, discovering my gifts and pursuing them in serving people and serving the church, all to appear as a godly person in white garments.

But that was far from the truth.

Funnily enough, I went deeper into prayer. Like an entry into a cave where mysteries lie, so was I, being pulled deeper into a covenant I knew nothing of, nor did I particularly plan for, but I knew one thing: I wanted to know more of God. 

Of course, I didn’t want to admit that I just wanted to understand the Bible more and the mechanics of praying to a distant God (to me) so that I could say I knew God. I intended to become more spiritual… because deep inside, I knew I hadn’t truly encountered God. I wanted Him to be real to others, even if He was barely real to me.

What was I to tell the people..........Ideas?

It wasn’t enough. I did know the Bible, and deeply at that.

I grasped His knowledge, but had nothing to tangibly hold my faith in. And upon stumbling upon a few passages, the message of heaven and hell became less and less convincing for me. 

I began to believe less in an afterlife, and the Bible honestly read like a record of a spiritual reality that once existed, not a God we could know today. My entire childhood understanding crumbled at that point.

I failed to believe that the heaven I had once sworn to enter even existed. At that point, my faith became entirely intellectual as I tried to logically prove something beyond all logic.

The idea of God faltered before my eyes. I was a walking atheist, again — never admitting it to myself, but living it in practice.

Nothing mattered. Heaven or hell wasn’t real to me. So why not just live however I wanted?

And once I found enough logic to muzzle my doubts, I sought knowledge again, still trying to show others a living God who was dead to me.

Preaching, praying, and prophesying about a God who was merely a summary of my thoughts seemed enough to get by, and the cross seemed like just a complex Bible story I could analyze. But the others who listened seemed to understand it, and that became validation enough for me to continue.

Until not too long ago, when my lack of faith began to show in the push and pull of life and relationships. What seemed real enough to others began to fracture before my eyes once again.

I didn’t see His hand at work. I failed to recognize His goodness in daily life.

And I’d be lying if I said I praised or thanked God for waking up every day. The simplicity of routine life clashed with the massive God I had in mind. With all the knowledge I had of God, my life shouldn’t have turned out the way it did.

Why me?

One day, with frustrations piling up, I simply said to myself, “Lord, I’m done,” and went to bed. I had a silent hope that He would hear my prayer of giving up on Him, but I refused to have anything to do with Him…

Until the next morning, when I was reading Revelation 6. It was a morning devotion that I was only half paying attention to, expecting nothing more than history, information, and possibly a bit of myth. 

Without warning, a presence moved from the door opening to where I was, tangibly resting and flowing around my head.

Placing my iPad down, I engaged properly, using my willpower to push the presence away. “Encounters” could be imagined, but this? 

I couldn’t shake off. A quick 10-second wrestle with my willpower showed me that this presence did not want to go anywhere. And while I remained in my room, the presence stood. 

To test if this was just my imagination, I did the only thing I knew to do in the presence of a King: Speak

I said, “Lord, I want to know your Word. If this is you, I honour you, for you’ve shown me heaven. I want to know and understand you better, and take you for who you really are, IF this is You.”

The second I said that, a portion of that same presence entered my heart. And truly, I had never been so happy and peaceful in my life, both at the same time. Rejoicing, yet still. Overwhelmed, yet perfectly controlled. 

Peace filled me… and a Person who knew that I had been looking for Him all my life. And as I fully accepted this Presence, a warm hug touched my heart. At this point, I truly knew a Person held me dearly.

I had to leave to be with my family. Upon leaving this encounter, I said, “Thank you, Lord.”

Much to my amazement, He simply… left, awaiting our next heartfelt conversation together.

Transformation & Testimony

From that day, everything I had been taught, prayed, and proclaimed became alive to me in a pure well of the water of life. I knew truly that He does watch me. I knew truly that my heart of sin makes me unconscious of His presence, and that being honest before Him in a heart of repentance allows me to encounter Him in ways I simply can’t describe, let alone imagine.

At 21, I have just begun adult life as we know it, and the journey is long despite my vast knowledge of Him. I cannot say I have any answers at all, but I can testify that there is a God in heaven who knows secrets and reveals Himself to those willing to seek Him. He has mercy on those whom He has mercy, and compassion on those whom He has compassion.

This is why I believe. And this is what I’ve seen.

© 2026 Jason Degraft-Quansah.

Want more content like this? Explore more articles in the Why We Believe series.