What a stack of 2009 Bible study notes taught me about healing, faith, and the life God was quietly rebuilding
Recently, while sorting through a box of old papers, I found something I hadn’t seen in years.
Not photographs.
Not letters.
Not official documents.
Bible study notes.
Stacks of them.
Some were written during Wednesday night Bible studies at World Changers Church New York. Others came from Saturday evening services taught by Dr. Creflo Dollar. A few were personal reflections scribbled onto notebook paper after church.
The pages were worn. The ink had faded in places. My handwriting alternated between neat and hurried, depending on how fast I was trying to keep up with the teaching.
As I sat on my living room floor reading through them, I realized I wasn’t just reading sermon notes.
I was meeting my younger self again.
And she had a lot to say.
January 2009
The notes transported me back to a season of tremendous change.
I had recently been released from my position with the ministry.
For a while, my identity had been wrapped around serving, producing, supporting leaders, and helping make things happen behind the scenes. Suddenly, I found myself navigating a different reality.
But here’s the interesting thing.
The notes don’t sound defeated.
They sound determined.
Page after page contained declarations about faith, authority, identity, prayer, and emotional health.
One page simply read:
I can take control of my emotions.
I have authority.
I must know who I am in Christ Jesus.
Another page listed areas I felt I had been neglecting:
- Finances
- Health
- Appearance
- Relationship development
- Spiritual growth
- Decisions
- Family
When I first reread the list, I smiled.
Then I got quiet.
Because I realized I wasn’t looking at a list of failures.
I was looking at a blueprint.
The Year That Changed Everything
What struck me most is that 2009 wasn’t just a year of transition.
It was also a year of rebuilding.
I released my first book, Poetry of a Black Girl: The Darkness and the Light.
I began focusing on my health.
I worked on my appearance.
I rebuilt my confidence.
People would tell me:
“You look brand new.”
At the time, I thought they were talking about weight loss.
Looking back, I think they were seeing something deeper.
Healing had finally become visible.
The shell of a woman that had emerged after losing both of my parents at a young age was beginning to crack.
The woman underneath was finally breathing again.
The Friendship That Became a Marriage
One of the notes stopped me in my tracks.
Written in my own handwriting were the words:
Pray over my future spouse.
Pray over my children.
Pray over my family.
Pray over future relationships.
At the time, I had already reconnected with Oji.
We first met in 1992.
We graduated high school in 1996.
Life carried us in different directions, but roughly twelve years later we found our way back into each other’s orbit.
What I didn’t know then was what that friendship would become.
Today, as I write this, we are approaching our 14th wedding anniversary on June 9.
This December, we will celebrate 17 years together as a couple.
Back then, I was praying about a future I couldn’t see.
Today, I get to live in many of those answered prayers.
God Was Building More Than I Knew
The younger version of me couldn’t see Texas.
She couldn’t see foster care.
She couldn’t see adoption.
She couldn’t see Trevor.
She couldn’t see Tyson.
She couldn’t see Ella Grace.
She couldn’t see football seasons, IEP meetings, book launches, ministry leadership, or all the ways God would stretch and strengthen our family.
But she kept praying anyway.
She kept writing anyway.
She kept believing anyway.
Found in the Margins
The older I get, the more I appreciate old journals and handwritten notes.
Not because every prayer was answered exactly the way I expected.
Not because every dream unfolded according to my timeline.
But because they remind me that God was working even when I couldn’t see it.
Those old pages are evidence.
Evidence of growth.
Evidence of healing.
Evidence of faith.
Evidence that some seasons are not endings at all.
They’re beginnings disguised as disruptions.
As I carefully placed the notes back into their folder, I found myself grateful for the woman who wrote them.
She didn’t know the ending yet.
She didn’t know how much joy was ahead.
She didn’t know how much healing was possible.
She didn’t know how many prayers God was already preparing to answer.
But she kept writing.
And maybe that’s what faith looks like.
Not knowing the ending.
Just believing God is still writing the story.
Scripture Reflection
“Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
— Philippians 1:6
Selah.
© 2026, Lela Fagan. All rights reserved.
