- July 20, 2026
- 8:30 am
The Long Walk Home: Coming Back to God After Falling Away
There is a particular kind of shame that belongs to those who once walked closely with God and then drifted. It is not the same shame of someone who never knew Him. The shame of someone who did, and left anyway just hits different.
I know that shame. I wore it for years.
I grew up in a faith-filled home. I knew scripture. I had seen God move in my family, in my church, in quiet moments of prayer that left me undone in the best way. And then, slowly, not all at once, but in the gradual way that most spiritual drift happens, I let other things fill the space where God had been. Ambition. Distraction. The convincing lie that I could return any time I chose, so there was no rush.
The rush came. Life has a way of stripping away every substitute until you are left with nothing but the thing you were running from or running toward.
The Myth of the Perfect Return
One of the biggest barriers to coming back to God is the belief that you must first get yourself together. That you need to clean up, straighten out, become presentable before you dare to approach Him again. This is a lie dressed in religious clothing.
The prodigal son in Luke 15 did not rehearse a performance. He rehearsed a confession. “I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” He expected servanthood at best, rejection at worst. What he received was a father running toward him while he was still far off – robe, ring, sandals, celebration.
The father was not waiting for his son to arrive cleaned up. He was watching for him to arrive.
If you have been waiting until you feel worthy to return, I want to tell you directly: that moment will not come on its own. Worthiness is not what you bring to God, it is what He restores in you when you come.
What Falling Away Actually Looks Like
We tend to imagine falling away as a dramatic moment; a public sin, a crisis of faith, a loud rejection of God. But for most people, it is far quieter than that.
It looks like skipping church once, then twice, until going feels strange and staying away feels normal. It looks like prayer that shrinks from conversation to performance to silence. It looks like reading the Bible less until you stop entirely and feel guilty about it and so avoid it more. It looks like surrounding yourself with voices that never mention God, until His voice becomes the unfamiliar one.
Slow drift is still drift. Distance covered gradually is still distance.
The First Step Is Not a Step, It Is a Cry
I did not return to God with a plan. I returned with a breaking. Sitting alone at a point where nothing I had built could hold me, I said something to God that was barely a prayer. It was closer to: I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how to come back. But I’m here.
That was enough.
Psalm 34:18 says that God is close to the broken-hearted. Not the put-together. Not the theologically articulate. The broken. If all you have right now is the broken-heartedness of someone who knows they have been far from home, you have exactly what is required to begin.
What the Walk Home Actually Requires
Coming back is not a single moment, though it begins with one. It is a series of small, daily decisions to turn back toward God rather than away.
It requires honesty, with God and with yourself, about where you have been and what took you there. Not to punish yourself, but because healing cannot begin in a place that has not been named.
It requires community. The enemy works hardest to keep the returning believer isolated, because isolation preserves the shame. Find one person, a pastor, a mentor, a trusted friend in faith and let them know you are finding your way back. You were not designed to walk this road alone.
It requires patience with yourself. The years you spent away do not disappear in a Sunday morning. But every day you choose to turn toward God, something is being rebuilt. Roots grow slowly and hold deeply.
You Are Not Too Far
I want to close with the thing I most needed to hear when I was on my own long walk home: you have not gone too far.
Not too far for grace. Not too far for restoration. Not too far for the kind of intimacy with God that you remember from before or perhaps something deeper still, forged in the honesty of someone who has known what it is to be lost and found their way back.
The road home is longer when you have been far. But it is still a road. And the One who made it has been waiting for you, watching the horizon, ready to run.
Come home.
Author Bio:
Sanmi Dawodu is a faith writer, entrepreneur, and founder of Sanmi Dawodu Ministries. He writes on prayer, restoration, and purpose-driven living on their website, where his work has helped thousands of believers strengthen their walk with God. Based in Chicago, he is also the founder of Flomicso, a digital growth platform serving churches and ministries across the US and beyond.
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This article is part of our Guest Submission Series on Hope and Healing, where believers share their journeys of redemption, transformation, and faith in Jesus Christ.
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