Let’s talk about that Bible verse that nearly ruined my life. “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” (Proverbs 19:21).
Sounds holy, right? Sounds comforting.
Bullshit.
For years, that verse didn’t comfort me—it strangled me. I became so obsessed with “finding God’s will” that I forgot I had my own. I prayed. I waited. I agonised over every decision, terrified of stepping “out of alignment.” Meanwhile, my dreams gathered dust while I knelt, begging for a sign.
Sound familiar?
Growing up in church, this verse was a recurring theme, a constant reminder: God has this intricate, perfectly designed plan just for you, and by diligently following the Bible and Christian principles, you’d eventually stumble upon it. Discovering this divine purpose was supposed to unlock ultimate fulfilment, often neatly aligning with your passions or something God would miraculously provide. And when it didn’t happen? We blamed ourselves. Maybe we didn’t pray enough. Maybe we weren’t faithful enough. Maybe—just maybe—the whole thing was a trap to keep us passive, dependent, and docile. Years of fervent prayer and striving for approval revealed a starkly different reality: life is what you actively, intentionally build.
Just last week, I watched an interview with a wonderfully wise Ghanaian elder on YouTube, and his words resonated with a profound clarity. He spoke of a time before foreign religions arrived, when their own spirituality didn’t dangle some far-off, ethereal reward. Instead, it emphasised the value of hard work, the power of innovation, and the importance of personal agency. However, travel through Ghana today, and you can often see how the pervasive influence of the church has, in many ways, fostered a culture where the act of praying sometimes overshadows the necessity of proactive problem-solving. Look around and see that our churches are packed with people praying for miracles while their leaders drive Range Rovers and their communities starve. We’ve turned faith into a waiting room instead of a launchpad.
This has, unfortunately, contributed to a sense of passivity in some communities – a tendency to wait for divine intervention instead of demanding accountability from those in power or actively seeking solutions to improve their own lives. Losing my father last month brought one of our conversations into sharp focus. He told me, with such quiet strength, that after praying, I needed to move forward with both caution and a clear strategy. That simple piece of wisdom was a revelation. Prayer wasn’t a magic fix; it was a prelude to deliberate action.
This whole “God’s plan” narrative? It trapped me. How the hell was I supposed to know what it was? It shoved me into these suffocating little boxes, dictated by religious approval. It bred a rigidity that kept me stuck in toxic cycles. Deconstructing my faith and finally taking the reins of my own life threw me headfirst into learned helplessness. Faced with challenges, my instinct was still to pray and wait, passively letting life happen to me, not by me.
Yet, as I recently wrestled with a particularly difficult situation, a moment of piercing clarity broke through. Every single challenge I had truly overcome? I had actively engaged with it, thoughtfully navigated the complexities, and then, in hindsight, conveniently labeled the positive outcome as an “answered prayer.”
The past week has also brought a disturbing and deeply upsetting wave of stories about Christian women trapped in abusive marriages. The growing calls to boycott a certain podcast that seems to normalise their suffering are not only understandable but necessary. While some may be quick to judge, I find myself understanding the underlying mindset. Christianity often subtly (or not so subtly) elevates the concept of “long-suffering” as a virtue, implying some form of spiritual reward for enduring immense hardship.
You grow up in an environment that suggests that enduring pain somehow earns you divine favour, so you stay in situations that are actively eroding your spirit, and sometimes, tragically, ending your life. The heartbreaking case of Nigerian gospel artist Osinachi Nwachukwu, who died in April 2022 after enduring years of abuse, serves as a devastating reminder of this dangerous ideology. While her husband’s death sentence offers a form of justice, it was a loss that should never have happened. I can’t help but wish she had felt empowered to choose her own life over a silent, prayerful endurance.
I want to be absolutely clear: I don’t believe prayer in itself is harmful. But when prayer becomes a comfortable substitute for taking tangible, necessary action, that’s where the danger lies. My father’s words offered a different, more empowering perspective: prayer as a form of quiet reflection, a way to gain the mental clarity needed to then strategise and act decisively. And while the saying “faith without works is dead” resonates, navigating life with faith becomes incredibly challenging when you’re constantly questioning if your chosen path aligns with some unknowable divine intention.
Over the years, I’ve witnessed countless situations that illustrate this point: individuals forgoing crucial medical treatment in favour of prayer, job seekers waiting for divine intervention instead of actively pursuing opportunities, couples facing fertility challenges relying solely on prayer instead of exploring medical options. It’s akin to praying for your car with the engine light flashing ominously instead of seeking professional help, potentially leading to devastating consequences. The examples are numerous and deeply concerning.
For me, meditation brings a sense of inner calm that allows for clear, thoughtful decision-making. Perhaps that is the truest function of prayer for many. But in my father’s profound and grounded wisdom: after you’ve prayed, have a plan, and move forward with deliberate intention.
Thank you for taking the time to read and reflect. Let’s continue to share our stories and challenge the narratives that keep us from living fully and authentically.
Koya Nkrumah 
This is one of the most honest, soul-shaking reflections I’ve ever read. Thank you for having the courage to write it so plainly and powerfully. You didn’t just critique a Bible verse; you revealed how harmful specific interpretations can be when used to suppress agency, silence suffering, and stunt personal growth.
What struck me most was your reframe of prayer from a passive waiting room into a sacred space for mental clarity before decisive action. That alone is transformative. Your father’s wisdom, “After praying, move with caution and a clear strategy,” must be etched into collective memory.
It reminded me of Ryan Coogler’s film Sinners, in which prayer, ritual, and ancestral power aren’t presented as passive salvation but as a call to personal accountability. In that story, the characters aren’t rescued by divine intervention; their choices save them, their truths, and their actions. Like your message, the film echoes this: you can’t fake frequency, and only the accountable can protect their soul.
Your insight into how religious spaces can promote learned helplessness is heartbreaking but necessary to name. Tying it to Osinachi Nwachukwu’s tragic story sheds light on how spiritual messaging can be used to normalize suffering. That reality deserves more attention.
And your analysis of how Christianity often elevates “long-suffering” over liberation? That was a breakthrough. You accepted faith, reclaimed it, stripped of control, steeped in clarity, and rooted in power.
Thank you for deconstructing doctrine and offering a new spiritual blueprint based on ownership, agency, and truth. This deserves to be read, shared, and remembered.
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Thanks sis. ❤️
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