There comes a moment in every person's life when the silence from above is deafening. You pray. You wait. You knock on heaven's door, only to be met with the kind of quiet that echoes through your soul. No signs. No answers. Just the aching sense that maybe, just maybe, you were overlooked when divine assignments were handed out.

That moment came for me too.

I used to believe that favor was distributed like golden tickets—handed out by a higher power to a chosen few who fit the mold. I thought if I fasted long enough, obeyed hard enough, stayed humble enough, something supernatural would kick in and carry me to the top. I sat in pews, knelt in prayer circles, gave my tithe, swallowed my ambition, and waited for God to pick me. I thought the calling would come in thunder and light. I expected divine fireworks and crystal-clear instructions. What I got instead was delay, disappointment, and doors that wouldn't budge.