Let me tell you what happens when God steps back. He doesn’t throw lightning; He doesn’t scream; He just leaves. When that happens, things don’t explode—they unravel. That’s when the narcissist starts feeling it but can’t explain it. Things feel off; people act differently. Their magic tricks stop landing; they’re less persuasive, their charm stale because God isn’t co-signing lies. His Spirit doesn’t camp out in temples made of manipulation. He lets them taste the silence. They think they’ve still got it—still got control, still got the crowd—but they’re singing on a stage with the mic turned off. They’re fighting shadows, patching holes in a boat that’s already underwater.
Six Realizations of Loss
You know what rattles a narcissist’s soul? Not exposure, not confrontation—loss. Not the kind you cry about for a day and forget, but sacred loss—the loss of something heaven-sent. And that’s you. They thought you were just another supply, just another stop on their ego tour. What they didn’t realize is that you weren’t sent to be a supply; you were sent to be a mirror of mercy. You loved when it hurt, stayed when you should have run, and gave when they had nothing left to take. They mocked that, abused it, and then discarded it.
Now, deep down in those quiet moments when no one’s watching, they feel it. They won’t say it out loud, but they know they lost favor, lost grace, lost the one person who reflected something divine back at them. It hits hardest when they try to replace you and can’t. When the new person doesn’t forgive like you, doesn’t see them like you, doesn’t carry the calm, grounded, heaven-wrapped strength you had. They try to fill the void with noise, but the silence screams louder. You weren’t just a partner; you were a lifeline, and now it’s gone for good.
Seven The Great Unmasking
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