I prayed. I posted. I powered up instead.
I used to pray like I was filing a customer complaint.
“Hi, yes—I’d like to speak to a higher-up. My life is glitching again.”
Attached: my trauma résumé, a list of character references (all imaginary),
and a voice cracking under the weight of “Please don’t let today be the day I break.”
The divine response?
Silence.
No typing bubble. No burning bush.
Just vibes. And the occasional spiritual pop quiz like:
“Let’s throw in a narcissist, a car repair, and a misplaced sense of purpose—see what she does.”
At some point, I had to ask:
Did I get ghosted… by GOD?
Blocked.
Left on “read” in the Book of Job DMs.
Was it the sarcasm?
The mid-meltdown threats to become a witch with a Shopify store?
The time I said “Jesus take the wheel”
and then yanked it back because He was going too slow?
I don’t know.
But I stopped waiting on divine tech support.
Because if there was a holy algorithm,
I clearly wasn’t trending.
Too honest. Too loud.
Not enough quiet suffering and Pinterest verses.
So I powered up instead.
Built a sanctuary out of sarcasm and survived off Wi-Fi and willpower.
Launched my own gospel:
“Thou shalt not fake it just to make others comfortable.”
Now?
I’m my own miracle.
My prayers became punchlines.
My breakdowns got branding.
And my spiritual growth came with sound effects and a tip jar.
And if heaven’s review board ever circles back to my case?
Cool. I’ve got documentation.
A whole website full of it.
Filed under: Unfiltered Testimony. With Goat Memes.
So maybe I was blocked.
Or maybe the signal was never meant to go up—
it was meant to go inward.
Either way, I appealed.
With punchlines, proof, and a hoodie that says:
“Still spiraling. Still sacred. Still not smited.”
BLOCKED BY GOD: Still Pending Appeal
I prayed out loud. The line went dead.
He ghosted me while I lost my head.
No lightning bolt. No holy chat—
Just me and memes and a crying cat.
I tried to tithe, I tried to text,
God left me on read—what’s next?
Now faith is memes and half a song,
And I’m still dancing all night long.
—The Funny Phoenix, rejected by heaven, thriving in Wi-Fi
