When the Lights Went Out — But God Was Still There

I was around 7 years old when I saw a grown man cry in the dark.

It wasn’t a loud cry—just the quiet kind that tells you someone is breaking inside. My mum and I, along with a few members of our church, had gone to visit the home of my childhood best friend. It was evening.

And interestingly, there was electricity that day.

If you grew up in Nigeria, you know how rare that can be. NEPA (or PHCN, as it’s now called) has a talent for taking light at the worst moments. But this wasn’t one of those days. The power was on—the house just remained dark. The lights hadn’t been turned on. And that in itself said so much.

We stepped in, guided by faint light from flashlights and the weight of silence. Eventually, we found his father sitting alone in that unlit home, quietly weeping. It was his soft sobs that helped the elders locate him. When they finally turned on the light, the room lit up—but it didn’t feel brighter. The emptiness was deeper than darkness.

At the time, I didn’t understand what was going on. All I knew was that my friend wasn’t home. He was away at boarding school. Not long after, I learned his parents had gotten divorced. His mum had left while his dad was away. He came home to find his house abandoned. Silent. And cold.

That was the last time I saw my friend.

The Innocence of Childhood Friendship

He was my first best friend. We met in church when I was about five. He was always full of stories from school, and even though we only saw each other during the holidays, we had a bond that didn’t need constant presence.

Looking back now, I treasure those memories. But I also carry a deep sadness—not just for the friendship that faded, but for the moment I didn’t understand, and the pain that followed.

When Life Doesn’t Make Sense

As a child, I couldn’t fully grasp the weight of what happened that night. Why were the elders so quiet? Why was his father crying? Why was the house so empty?

Now I know: life can break in ways we don’t see coming. Families can fall apart. People can leave. Children can lose the very things that made them feel safe.

But even in the confusion, one thing remains true:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

Even when we don’t understand—God does. Even when everyone leaves—God stays.

What Happened to My Friend?

I still don’t know what became of him. I sometimes wonder how he coped with his parents’ divorce. Was he told the truth? Was he caught in the middle? Did he feel abandoned? Did he cry in the dark, too?

I may never know. But I pray for him.

And I trust that God, who saw me in my confusion, also saw him in his pain.

“Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.” — Psalm 27:10

Now That I Remember

This memory has lived in me for years, but only recently did I truly reflect on it with spiritual clarity. That night was not just about loss—it was about presence. God’s presence. I didn’t see it then, but I see it now. God was there with that man. God was there with me. God was there with my friend.

Even in the dark, He was still there.

To Anyone Who’s Been There

Maybe your childhood held unanswered questions. Maybe you watched people leave and didn’t know why. Maybe you were the friend whose home was torn apart. Or the one who had to say goodbye and never got to ask what happened.

If that’s you, I want to remind you:

You are not alone. God saw it all. He never left.

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” — Psalm 147:3

A Simple Prayer

Lord, for every heart carrying childhood confusion, for every soul that still remembers the pain of a broken home, I ask for healing. Remind us that You were there, even when we didn’t see You. Remind us that Your love never left. Amen.

If this story touched you, or you have a similar memory, feel free to share in the comments or send a message. Let’s encourage each other—with truth, with love, and with the knowledge that even in darkness, God is still there.