How Doubt and Regret Eat Away at Faith (and What Finally Helped)

A few mornings ago, a small wooden ornament on my bathroom sink caught my eye. I picked it up at Hobby Lobby our first year in Virginia. It’s a simple, distressed, farm-style piece with one quiet word carved into it: Faith. I’ve seen it a thousand times, but that day the word felt new, almost as if it lifted off the wood and whispered, “You need more of this.”

I realized my mood was off—something that had been happening a lot lately. Still, I kept to my routine, hoping peace would find me again. After my shower, I gathered my things and, for reasons I couldn’t explain, carried the little ornament to my room. Sitting there, I finally listened to the nudge. I knew exactly what it meant.

I was under a slow, quiet attack—not from obvious fears or loud frustrations, but from something sneakier: the locusts of doubt and regret. It wasn’t a dramatic swarm that would make me curl up and refuse to leave the house; it was tiny, nonvenomous bites—small irritations that didn’t seem dangerous at first. Still, they gnawed at my faith. When things began to look tough, those little bites pricked my soul, and I responded by shrinking back, feeling defeated, or—worst of all—blaming the people closest to me and lashing out. No explosions—just steady gnawing. That’s how these locusts work: they don’t roar; they nibble. They don’t paralyze you in a day; they wear you down bit by bit.

As I held the ornament, Joel 2:25–26 came to mind—about lost years being restored. It struck me that this small block of wood was a nudge: my faith needed repair. Not by sheer effort, but by trusting that God can restore what’s been worn down and reclaim the ground those small bites tried to take.

So I started journaling to empty my thoughts onto paper and map out ways to recognize and counter this state of mind. I’ve shared them below in case anyone else finds themselves in the same boat. It’s a gentle approach—no snapping at the people we love, and no surrendering to the feeling that we’re already too far gone.

A Simple Takeaway for Anyone in the Same Place

Notice the nibble. When discouragement feels small, don’t ignore it—tiny bites add up. Ask, Is this regret? Is this doubt? Name it. Say it plainly: This is the locust of regret/doubt. Naming it loosens its grip. Answer it. Pray and/or meditate—remember Joel 2:25 26. Do one small act of faith. Send the kind text, finish the small task, apologize if you snapped, or take five quiet minutes. Small steps grow strength. When irritation rises, choose words that build. It breaks the cycle.

My sweet reminder: Today, that little ornament tells me this: faith doesn’t remove the bites, but it starves the locusts. It also reassures me that the Great I AM is always there, nudging me to take small, steady steps of faith. Eventually, those small steps will become large leaps.