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When a Woman Has No One But GOD | Shocking Truth | Anchor of God | YouTubeToText
YouTube Transcript: When a Woman Has No One But GOD | Shocking Truth
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Core Theme
When a woman finds herself with no one but God to rely on, this period of isolation is not an ending but a sacred incubator for profound spiritual growth, divine strength, and the discovery of her true identity and purpose.
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When a woman has no one but God. What
happens when a woman has no one but God
to depend on? And how does the Bible
reveal the hidden strength found in
sacred isolation? In this video, we'll
reveal how a woman goes through life
with no one but God. When the friends
disappear, when the relationship falls
apart, when the support system breaks
down, and the only voice she has left to
lean on is the voice of heaven. But what
if I told you that this is not the end?
It's the beginning of her
transformation. Stay with me because
this isn't just another video. This is
your confirmation. Your season of
silence has a purpose and your isolation
is the incubator for your elevation. Let
us now begin.
When people walk away, God steps in.
When the phone stops ringing, when the
house grows quiet, when the once steady
presence of loved ones becomes a distant
memory, that's not the end of her story.
It's the beginning of a sacred
encounter. Some of the deepest spiritual
awakenings do not occur when a woman is
surrounded by applause, attention, and
admiration, but when she is left in
silence, in solitude, in stillness. The
absence of man is often the invitation
of God. The Apostle Paul said it best in
2 Timothy 4:16-17.
At my first defense, no one stood with
me, but the Lord stood with me and
strengthened me. There is a moment in
every woman's life, every chosen woman,
when the support system collapses. The
comfort she once leaned on breaks, and
the people she trusted seem to vanish.
But it's in that very vacuum of human
help, the divine strength steps in. God
is not intimidated by her loneliness.
In fact, he uses it. He allows the crowd
to walk out so that she'll recognize who
never leaves the room. He allows her to
be forsaken so she'll see who is faithful.
faithful.
This is not a punishment. It's a
preparation. Jesus fed the 5,000 in a
crowd, but he was prepared for the cross
in a wilderness. He was baptized in
public, but tested in private. Likewise,
the woman God is raising must first go
through isolation before she can carry
impartation. Don't mistake the
wilderness as abandonment. It's God's
workshop. Sometimes God clears the room
so she can hear the whisper. You can't
hear the whisper of God when the room is
filled with chatter. The applause of
people can drown out the instruction of
heaven. And so God in his mercy strips
her of the noise. The relationship ends.
The friendship shifts. The text messages
dry up. And she finds herself for the
first time face to face with herself and
with God.
This is where transformation begins.
This is where the masks fall. This is
where she doesn't pray because she ought
to. She prays because it's the only way
she breathes. This is where she doesn't
read the word for ritual, but for survival.
survival.
It's where she realizes that her
strength is not in who left, but in who
stayed. She finds her voice. She finds
her tears. She finds her identity not as
someone's girlfriend, wife, friend, or
daughter, but as a daughter of the most
high. And when she discovers that God is
not just a filler, but her foundation,
that's when her life begins to change.
You see, he's not a backup plan. He's
the builder. He's not just the comfort
after the storm. He's the one who rides
the winds of the storm to get to her.
Just like Hagar alone in the wilderness,
a woman cast out and forgotten by
people, but seen by God. You are the God
who sees me, she said. Genesis 16:13.
Oh, what glory there is in being seen by
the one who matters most. God removes
crutches to teach her how to stand. Many
women are trained to depend on someone
to lean on others for approval,
security, direction. And while there is
nothing wrong with healthy support, God
will sometimes strip away the
unnecessary scaffolding to reveal the
internal structure. Because a woman who
leans only on others never learns to
walk in spiritual strength. God removes
the crutches not to wound her but to
grow her.
Deuteronomy 8:3 tells us, "He humbled
you, causing you to hunger and then
feeding you with mana, to teach you that
man does not live on bread alone, but on
every word that comes from the mouth of
the Lord." God didn't fail her. He just
started feeding her differently. She was
looking for provision from people, but
now she's tasting mana from heaven. Let
me teach this real clear. Crutches
aren't just people. Crutches can be
titles. Crutches can be routines.
Crutches can be the image she's built
for herself, the control she holds onto,
the version of her life she carefully
curated. And when God starts breaking
those down, it feels like loss. But it's
really liberation.
You may be watching this and wondering
why everything is breaking around you.
The job is gone. The relationship
collapsed. The finances dried up. And
you're saying, "Lord, what did I do
wrong?" But child of God, what if the
better question is, "Lord, what are you
teaching me to walk through? You've
depended on umbrellas too long. Now he's
teaching you to walk in the rain. You've
worn spiritual training wheels too long.
Now he's strengthening your legs." There
is a holy lesson in walking alone. Not
forever, but for a season. Because in
that season, you learn that peace is not
found in the paycheck. It's found in the
presence. Joy is not rooted in a person.
It's rooted in Jesus. And when you've
been through hell and still have a
Hallelujah. You've stepped into a realm
of faith no devil can shake. A woman
loses her job, her partner leaves, and
she finds herself sleeping on a friend's
couch with nothing but a Bible and a
broken heart. And somehow in the midst
of that storm, she begins to pray
differently. She stops performing and
starts pressing. She stops hiding and
starts healing. She's not perfect, but
she's planted. She's not surrounded, but
she's supported from heaven. And the
next time life throws her in the fire,
she doesn't panic because she remembers
the last time God met her in the flames.
Just like the Hebrew boys in Daniel,
she'll walk out without even smelling
like smoke. She was leaning on people
before, but now she's walking with
power. Why? Because God trained her in
the secret place. When a woman has no
one but God, she doesn't diminish. She
develops. She doesn't fall apart. She's
falling into alignment. She doesn't just
cry, she gets called. And the calling is
always clearest when the crowd disappears.
disappears.
You may not have the support you thought
you needed. You may not have the people
you trusted. But if you still have God,
you still have everything. When people
walk away, God steps in. And when he
removes the crutches, it's only because
he's teaching you how to stand. God will
let the pain drive her to the presence.
Pain, my dear sister, is not always the
enemy. Pain is a revealer. Pain is a purifier.
purifier.
Pain is often the divine chariot that
ushers a woman not into bitterness, but
into brokenness. And not brokenness for
destruction, but brokenness for destiny.
We often think God shows up to remove
the pain, but sometimes he allows the
pain to remain, not because he is
punishing her, but because he is
positioning her.
There are some prayers she wouldn't have
prayed if her heart had never broken.
There are some altars she would have
never built if her soul had not been
stripped. Pain presses her into the
presence like nothing else can. Look at
Hannah. The Bible says in 1st Samuel
1:10-11, "In her deep anguish, Hannah
prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly,
Lord Almighty, if you will only look on
your servant's misery."
She was provoked by Panina. She was
misunderstood by her husband. She was
barren and broken. But she was not
abandoned by God. Her tears did not
repel God. They drew him near. Her
weeping was not weakness. It was
worship. She didn't run from the temple
because of her grief. She ran to it. She
didn't let pain make her bitter. She let
it make her bold. Because pain is the
hand that knocks on heaven's door. When
a woman has no one but God, she begins
to understand that pain has purpose.
Pain is not a sign of divine absence. It
is often the sign of divine surgery.
She's being cut, but she's also being
carved. She's being emptied, but only to
be filled. She's being stripped, but
it's because God is changing her
garment. He's removing the cloak of
grief to clothe her with glory. The womb
of pain becomes the birthplace of
purpose. Let me bring this down to where
we live. Think of a woman who's just
gone through a miscarriage, not only of
a child, but of a dream.
Maybe her life hasn't turned out the way
she planned. She was the planner, the
organizer, the one who mapped her future
in neat little bullet points. And now
everything has unraveled.
She wakes up and the silence screams
louder than any voice. Her inbox is
empty. Her phone doesn't ring. Her
pillow is soaked with tears. And yet
somewhere in that stillness, something
shifts. She gets on her knees, not
because she has the words, but because
she has the ache. She doesn't know what
to pray, but her groans begin to preach
louder than sermons, and God meets her
there. Pain becomes the altar. The same
anguish that threatened to break her
becomes the incense that draws heaven
close. And in that sacred space, she
discovers something profound. That God
doesn't just respond to polished
prayers. He responds to honest ones. Her
mascara is smeared. Her words are
jumbled, but her heart is open. And
that's what God was waiting on all
along. Not the performance, but the
posture. Now hear this. When she has no
one but God, she finds who she truly is.
Oh yes. Because identity is often
obscured by noise, when she's surrounded
by people's opinions, expectations, and
labels, she can begin to forget who she
is and who she's called to be.
But when the voices fall silent, when
the distractions are removed, when the
mirrors of other people's affirmation
are shattered, that's when God becomes
her reflection.
Genesis 16:13 tells the story of a woman
who's been used, discarded, and dismissed.
dismissed.
Hagar was pregnant, unwanted, and alone
in the desert. But in that desolate
place, God showed up. She said, "You are
the God who sees me." And she named him Elroy.
Elroy.
Watch this. She named God based on her
revelation, but more importantly, she
saw herself through his eyes for the
first time. She was no longer defined by
Sarai's jealousy or Abram<unk>'s
silence. She was seen not as a slave,
not as a burden, not as a mistake, but
as a mother of destiny. When mirrors
break, God becomes her reflection. When
labels are stripped, identity is
restored. When people stop calling her,
God starts speaking. And he doesn't call
her by her wounds. He calls her by his
will. She is not unworthy. She is
beloved. She is not damaged goods. She
is destined for greatness. She is not
too much. She is chosen for much. And
it's only in the stillness, in the
aloneeness, in the sacred solitude that
she finally hears the name heaven has
been calling her all along.
Maybe she's just left a toxic
relationship. Maybe she spent years
trying to be what someone else wanted
her to be. Quiet enough, pretty enough,
submissive enough, small enough to fit
their insecurities.
And now she's alone. And for the first
time, she doesn't have anyone else
telling her who she is. The silence is
terrifying at first, but slowly, oh so
slowly, she begins to bloom. She starts
reading scripture and sees herself in
the women God used. Deborah the warrior,
Ruth the loyal, Esther the brave, Mary
the faithful. She's not invisible. She's
in transition. God did not bring her out
to leave her empty. He brought her out
to fill her with identity. He let the
mirrors break so she could finally see
herself in his word. She's more than her
past. She's more than her pain. She's
more than her ex's opinion. She is who
God says she is. And he says she is
fearfully and wonderfully made. He says
she is his masterpiece. He says she is
royalty, a daughter of the king. This is
the sacred power of solitude with God.
When everyone else is gone and all she
has left is him, she realizes he was
never her last resort. He was always her
only source. She doesn't just survive.
She evolves. She emerges. She rises
because what tried to bury her became
the soil that rooted her. What tried to
drown her made her reach for the rock
that is higher than she. And when the
storm clears, she's not the same woman.
She's stronger, wiser, anointed, called,
seen. You may have walked through pain,
but you're walking into purpose. You may
have cried through the night, but joy is
coming in the morning. This journey of
becoming is just beginning. When a woman
has no one but God, she finds out that
he is more than enough. When she has no
one but God, she grows unshakable faith,
not ordinary faith, not circumstantial
faith, not the kind of faith that
depends on good days and positive news.
No, this is the kind of faith forged in
the furnace of loneliness. It's a faith
that doesn't require evidence to
believe. It doesn't demand a
breakthrough before it blesses his name.
It's the kind of faith that can praise
in a drought, dance in the desert, and
worship when the world walks away. This
faith is not built in the presence of
plenty, it is born in the absence of
everything but God.
Habacook 3:17 to18 declares, "Though the
fig tree does not bud and there are no
grapes on the vines, though the olive
crop fails, yet I will rejoice in the
Lord. I will be joyful in God my
Savior." That is the language of
unshakable faith. That is not the faith
of someone who has everything. It's the
faith of someone who's lost almost
everything yet still refuses to lose
their praise. It's not naive faith. It's
not blind optimism. It's seasoned,
battle tested, wilderness hardened,
heavenrooted confidence. She's not
praising because the tree is full. She's
praising because her roots know where
the river is. There's something about
being stripped of everything else that
clarifies who really sustains her. When
the job is gone, when the family is
scattered, when the fridge is empty,
when the bills stack up, when no one
checks on her, and still still she lifts
her hands, lifts her head, lifts her
heart, and says, "I will rejoice in the
Lord." That's when God knows he can
trust her with glory. Because she's no
longer serving him for what he can do.
She's serving him for who he is. This
kind of faith doesn't come from sermons.
It comes from seasons. You don't learn
this in Sunday school. You learn it on
your knees at 2:00 a.m. with tears on
your pillow and a Bible in your lap. You
learn it when you're holding your baby
in one arm and overdue bills in the
other, and you still lift your voice in
song. You learn it when you don't know
how the rent will be paid, but you still
sew your tithe in obedience. You learn
it when the doors keep closing and the
diagnosis doesn't change, but you still
whisper, "God, I trust you." Let me give
you a picture. Think of a single mother,
no child support, no nearby family,
working two jobs just to keep the lights
on. She's tired, weary, and stretched
thin. And yet, every morning before the
kids wake up, she's on her knees. Not
asking for stuff, but giving God glory.
Not because her life is perfect, but
because her God is faithful. That's
unshakable faith. That's what happens
when she has no one but God. That's when
she stops praising for the fruit and
starts rejoicing because of the root.
This woman has graduated from surface
level faith. She's no longer addicted to
outcomes. She's not dictated by what's
happening around her because she's
anchored in who's within her. She
doesn't need constant reassurance from
people. She's rooted in revelation from
the word. She doesn't need the applause
of others. She lives for the approval of
one. And even when she walks through the
valley of the shadow of death, she fears
no evil. Not because she's brave, but
because she's believing. And watch this.
When a woman reaches that kind of faith,
everything changes. She becomes
dangerous to the enemy. Because Satan's
tactics stop working. She's no longer
rattled when people reject her. She's no
longer shaken when the storm comes.
She's no longer panicked by the silence
of heaven. Because she's learned that
silence doesn't mean absence. It means
trust. And if God is quiet, it's not
because he's not working. It's because
he's building something deeper inside of
her. Her confidence shifts. She no
longer finds security in who supports
me. She finds it in who sustains me. She
stops looking to people to validate her
value. She stops measuring her worth by
who calls, who stays, who sees her. And
she begins to walk boldly in the
knowledge that God sees her, God
sustains her, God strengthens her. She
may be alone, but she is never
abandoned. She may be tired, but she is
never empty. Because the well inside of
her is connected to a river that never
runs dry.
Now, I need to talk to the woman
listening right now who's on the verge
of giving up. You've prayed, but nothing
changed. You've fasted, but the
breakthrough hasn't come. You've swn,
but the harvest still looks barren. And
the enemy's been whispering, "Where is
your God now?" Let me remind you, God
never said faith would always feel easy.
But he promised he would never leave
you. And the same faith that got you
here is the faith that's going to take
you there. So don't you stop praising.
Don't stop praying. Don't stop standing.
This is not the end. It's the testing
ground for your next dimension. Your
roots are stretching deeper. Your spirit
is growing stronger. And heaven is
watching you worship. Not because of the
blessing, but in spite of the burden.
That's unshakable faith. Loneliness is
the lab where purpose is born. The
sacred things of God are rarely formed
in the spotlight. They are formed in
silence, hidden, concealed, wrapped in
obscurity until heaven says, "Now."
Some callings are too holy, too weighty,
too worldshifting to be developed in the
presence of crowds. They must be
nurtured in seclusion. They must be
cultivated away from the noise, free
from opinions, protected from sabotage.
Because if the enemy can't abort the
promise, he'll try to distract the woman
carrying it. So God in his divine wisdom
often isolates before he elevates.
Luke 1:24-25 tells us that after
Elizabeth conceived, she remained in
seclusion for 5 months. This was not
shame. It was sanctuary. This was not
punishment. It was preparation. God was
forming something miraculous inside her.
and the magnitude of what he was doing
required silence. It required solitude.
It required a season where the only
voice she heard was his.
Elizabeth didn't run into the
marketplace shouting about her
pregnancy. She withdrew into the
presence of God and let the seed
develop. Because purpose often grows in
the dark like a seed hidden beneath the
soil. There's a holy quietness that
surrounds divine destiny, a womb of
transformation that cannot be rushed or
publicized. And some of you right now,
you feel overlooked. You feel like God
has placed you on a shelf. You feel like
doors are closing and people are pulling
back. You scroll through social media
and see others being celebrated,
promoted, surrounded, and you wonder,
why am I alone? But I came to tell you
today, you are not forgotten. You are
being formed. The silence around you is
not rejection. It's a sacred womb where
God is shaping your assignment. What
you're carrying is so heavy, so
generational, so necessary that he's
protecting it from premature exposure.
God doesn't rush masterpieces. He
doesn't announce greatness before it's
ready. So yes, he'll hide you. Yes,
he'll separate you. Yes, he'll walk you
into a season where it seems like
everyone else has someone and you have
no one but him. But that's the safest
place to be because if all you have is
him, you have everything you need. Think
of a woman today who has quietly pulled
back. Maybe life forced her into a
season of separation. Maybe she didn't
choose the loneliness. Maybe the
loneliness chose her. Her friends faded.
Her family stopped checking in. Her
phone no longer lights up with messages.
And yet in the hidden places, something
is growing. Her prayer life has
deepened. Her discernment has sharpened.
Her tears have become oil. Her questions
have become a conversation with God.
She's not wasting away. She's being
woven into purpose. And one day, when
the time is right, she will emerge. And
what she carries will shake the gates of
hell. She'll walk out of her Elizabeth
season and declare, "The Lord has done
this for me." Not they, not he, not
them. The Lord. Because no one else was
there when it was just her and God. No
one saw the night. She wept herself to
sleep. No one saw the battles in her
mind. No one saw the surrender in her silence.
silence.
But God saw it all. And God is faithful
to finish what he starts in the dark.
Hear me, woman of God. If you feel
alone, don't confuse that loneliness for
abandonment. It's redirection. It's
refinement. It's a holy assignment. You
are not just being set aside. You are
being set apart. He's not rejecting you.
He's preserving you. Because the oil
you're being crushed for isn't just for
you. It's for your children. It's for
your calling. It's for your legacy.
What's being formed in your spirit today
will bless generations tomorrow. And
this is the beauty of walking with God
when you have no one else. You don't
just discover strength. You don't just
gain clarity. You don't just grow faith.
You begin to walk in divine purpose. And
that purpose is not fragile. It's not
dependent on applause. It's not rooted
in connections or collaborations or
crowds. It was conceived in the secret
place and it was God who authored it. So
only God can complete it. So as we close
this powerful message, I want you to
understand this. When a woman has no one
but God, she is not at a disadvantage.
She is in divine alignment. She's not
behind. She's being built. She's not
broken. She's becoming. And if you've
walked through each part of this
message, if you've experienced the
heartbreak, the isolation, the growth,
the stretching, the silence, then let me
tell you, you are on the verge of
birthing something supernatural. Your
oil is pure. Your anointing is real.
Your identity is secure. Your faith is
rooted. And your purpose is being
perfected. Amen. If this final word
touched your spirit, I want you to type
boldly in the comments. I'm hidden, but
I'm holy. That's your declaration.
That's your stamp. That's your reminder
that while the world may not see you
right now, heaven does. And when heaven
finishes with you, what emerges will not
be the same woman who went into hiding.
You will come out anointed, appointed,
aligned, and unstoppable.
When a woman has no one but God,
but I believe this is just the beginning
of what God is about to birth through
you. Stay faithful, stay grounded, stay
hidden if he says to because the most
powerful moves of God often begin in the
quiet places no one applauds. And before
you go, remember to like, subscribe, and
share to help spread the word of God.
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