Meditation, God, and the Brain: Redefining My Path to Faith

About a year ago, I had a deep conversation with my cousin. She was struggling spiritually, feeling more like an atheist than a believer. Her biggest question: How could a loving God allow terrible things to happen to children? She told me she didn’t feel like she needed church the way some people do — for her, journaling was her sacred space. That conversation stayed with me.

At the time, I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t answer her questions fully — I still can’t. But what I’ve come to realize is that her questions were never a rejection of spirituality, but an invitation to find it outside the traditional mold.

As I’ve leaned more into meditation, self-reflection, and spiritual study, I’ve started reshaping my own relationship with God and faith. I’ve realized that some of the deepest spiritual work doesn’t happen inside a church building — it happens in silence, in writing, in the quiet after a guided meditation.

And the more I meditate, the more I understand how real and physical this work is. It’s not just emotional or spiritual — it’s neurological.

How Meditation Physically Changes the Brain

According to research that my brother sent me in Psych Central, meditation literally reshapes your brain. Regular meditation reduces activity in the amygdala, the part of the brain responsible for stress, fear, and anxiety. That’s why, over time, you may feel less reactive and more grounded.

It also strengthens the prefrontal cortex, which governs decision-making and emotional regulation. You become better equipped to pause, reflect, and respond — instead of reacting out of habit or pain.

And maybe most beautifully, meditation increases the volume of the hippocampus, which plays a major role in learning and memory. When we meditate, we’re not just “clearing our heads.” We’re training our brains to be more present, more aware, and more at peace.

This isn’t just mental hygiene. For me, it’s spiritual alignment.

Why the Brain Matters So Much to Me

On July 1, 2019, I experienced a traumatic brain injury that changed everything. That moment forced me to understand the fragility and strength of the brain in a deeply personal way. Since then, I’ve become endlessly curious about how the brain works — how it heals, how it holds onto patterns, and how it can rewire itself. Meditation hasn’t just helped me find spiritual clarity — it’s helped me reconnect with and rebuild my own mind.

Books like The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge have been transformative. They offer scientific proof of what I’ve experienced firsthand: the brain is not fixed. It is alive, responsive, and capable of change.

God in the Pause

Through this process, I’ve come to see God in new places. Not just in scripture or Sunday morning sermons — but in the pause between thoughts. In the breath. In the pages of my journal. In books like The Gifts of Imperfection by Brené Brown, which taught me how vulnerability is sacred. Or in the gentle space meditation creates — where I can meet God without pretense or performance.

I still believe in God, deeply. But my connection doesn’t always flow through a traditional church service. Some church messages don’t always speak to the internal transformation I’m seeking. That doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned faith. It means I’m reclaiming it — in ways that are honest, intuitive, and embodied.

On Suffering, Innocence, and Fairness

My cousin’s question about suffering still lingers: Why do bad things happen to children?

What I’ve come to understand is that we don’t have to do anything “wrong” to experience pain — just like we don’t have to do everything “right” to be spared from it. Bad things don’t only happen to people who deserve them. Life is not a merit system. That realization brought me unexpected comfort. It took the pressure off. It reminded me that what we can control is our awareness, our choices, and our energy.

Faith, Rewritten

So no, I haven’t turned away from God. I’ve just stopped confining God to the places I was told I had to look. My spirituality is still rich, still alive — it’s just quieter now. Slower. More intentional. More about being than doing.

Sometimes I find God in church.

Sometimes I find God in stillness.

Sometimes I find God in neuroscience.

And sometimes, I find God in the mirror — when I’m honest, present, and fully awake.

This is my faith now.

Rooted in reflection.

Backed by science.

Anchored in God.

And completely, unapologetically mine.