Everyone around him believed Ernest was a failure. No job. No money. No visible progress. But what people could not see was what God was doing in the silence of his life.
Ernest is a young man in his early thirties who lives in Akaporiso, Obuasi. He is the kind of person many people would describe as “too churchy.” He attends church regularly, prays and fasts, and speaks about Jesus in nearly every conversation. For some, it feels excessive. For others, unnecessary. But for Ernest, it is not a performance. His faith is real.
He Did Everything Right, Yet…
He does everything right. He prays. He serves. He obeys. He believes with his whole heart. Yet the doors he keeps praying for remain closed. He goes for job interviews and never gets selected. Without a job, money becomes scarce. His clothes grow worn. Sometimes he borrows from friends. Sometimes he eats leftovers at chop bars. Life slowly becomes survival.
People tell him, “Trust God’s timing.” Others quietly assume something must be wrong with him. Some mock him openly. And deep inside, Ernest feels what many faithful people feel but rarely admit: when you are being obedient and nothing is changing, God’s silence feels heavier.
Ernest was a failure.
In the eyes of many, Ernest was a failure. Friends drifted away. Family members kept their distance because he had nothing to offer. In a world where worth is often measured by success, he became invisible.
Yet he did not stop believing. He did not walk away from God. He only grew tired of asking why.
One Sunday night, exhausted and discouraged, he knelt down—not to demand answers, not to complain—but simply to surrender. Instead of asking for a breakthrough, he whispered, “Even if I don’t understand, I trust You, Lord.” It was not a dramatic prayer. It was not emotional. It was just honest. And sometimes, honesty before God is the beginning of real faith.
Nothing changed immediately. There was no instant miracle. No sudden job. No visible breakthrough. But something inside Ernest shifted. He stopped measuring God’s faithfulness by what he could see. He stopped expecting obedience to come with quick rewards. He kept going. He still attended interviews. He still took small jobs, pounding fufu at chop bars for a few cedis. He still served in church. He still believed that God would one day manifest success in his life.
What no one else could see.
People continued to mock him. Some friends walked away. Even family members distanced themselves because he had nothing to offer. But in that waiting, in that silence, God was still at work—quietly shaping what no one else could see.
Then, slowly, things began to change.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically. But in ways Ernest could never have planned. Opportunities started aligning. Doors opened that he did not even know existed. What he had prayed for—work, stability, favor—began to unfold. Blessings followed one after another. In his own words, “E dey flow from my head to my toes.”
The same people who once doubted him were now amazed. Family members who once rejected him now embraced him. Those who once mocked his faith now admired his perseverance. The man they once called a failure became a testimony. The rejected stone became the cornerstone.
The delay was not punishment.
Looking back, Ernest understood something powerful. The delay was not punishment. It was preparation. God was not absent in the silence. He was working beneath the surface, building character, strengthening faith, and positioning him for something greater than he could have imagined.
This is what we often forget in our waiting seasons. We assume that when God is quiet, He is gone. But silence does not mean inactivity. Waiting does not mean abandonment. Sometimes, God is doing His deepest work where our eyes cannot reach.
Faith is not proven when life is easy. It is refined when nothing is guaranteed. Anyone can trust God when results come quickly. But real faith is formed when you choose obedience even when it feels unrewarded, when you keep serving even when no one notices, when you keep believing even when nothing makes sense.
Becoming something far greater.
If you are in a season where prayers seem unanswered and doors remain closed, this story is for you. What the world calls failure, God may be shaping into a testimony. Ernest was a failure in human eyes—but in God’s hands, he was becoming something far greater.
Your obedience is not wasted. Your waiting is not meaningless. Your silence is not your ending. Sometimes God withholds the visible so He can strengthen the invisible. And when His timing unfolds, it will be clear that the silence was never absence—it was preparation. Grace found him.
