Does my relationship with God surprise you? It’s okay if it does—it surprises me sometimes, too. If you haven’t known me closely over the last year or two, you might not have seen my faith growing. It would be easy to let that scare me into the shadows, fearing that people who knew a different version of me might see this as fake or hypocritical. But God does not care about my past. He has forgiven my former transgressions, and He gives me permission to move forward. Actually, it’s more than permission—He wants me to move forward and be a beacon of what is possible.
My posts about strength, peace, and joy are not a facade. But they also aren’t the whole story, and I don’t want to pretend they are. I have days where fear, sadness, and anxiety get the best of me. (If you read my other blog posts, you know I’ve been having a lot of them lately.) I still see a therapist, and I firmly believe she is an important part of my mental and physical well-being. But each time I have landed in one of these sad, scary places, God has reminded me that He is with me. Sometimes subtly, and sometimes so loudly it’s hard not to laugh.
I’ll never forget a Sunday months ago, just a few weeks after we first got our diagnosis. I had four different friends text me after church because the message seemed so clearly meant for me. Little did they know, the moment I walked into the auditorium that morning and heard the music, tears started streaming down my face. Instead of finding a seat, I slipped into a dark corner and sobbed through the entire worship set.
It was the Sunday after we had gone to Cincinnati Children’s Hospital. Just three days prior, I had sat in a room full of surgeons for the first time, hearing over and over again that my son might not make it through various procedures, and that “if he makes it to this point,” we still have a mountain of challenges ahead. I had spent the next two days filled with suffocating sadness and confusion.
After crying through worship, I found a seat next to a friend. When our pastor got on stage, he opened with a question: “If God is in control, why does life feel so out of control sometimes?”
I dropped my head and laughed a little bit. People at our church often joke about feeling like the pastor is talking directly to them, and I knew right then this was going to be one of those days for me. The entire sermon was about God’s sovereignty—about how He is in control of everything in our lives. One of the main notes from the message was: “God tells us that He is sovereign so that we can have peace in the middle of chaos.”
Our pastor put this note on the screen and asked the congregation if anyone’s life felt chaotic right now. And then, as if I hadn’t already felt the weight of his words, he began talking about a conversation he and his wife had at dinner a few nights earlier, questioning whether they were prepared if one of their own children died. Again, my head dropped. The air left my lungs. He was speaking my exact, terrifying reality out loud.
Then, the next two notes appeared on the screen, and it felt like God was gently lifting my chin to look Him in the eyes. The first was a quote by John Piper: “God is always doing more than you can see, even in suffering.”
And then next, one of the final takeaways of the morning read: God is taking every piece of your life—the good, the bad, the painful, the confusing—and He is weaving it together into something purposeful, powerful, and good.
Sitting there in the quiet of the auditorium, those weren’t just nice phrases on a screen; they were a lifeline. I realized God wasn’t asking me to ignore the pain or pretend the diagnosis wasn’t scary. He was telling me that the hospital rooms, the surgical consultations, and the unknown future were all pieces He was already holding.
I walked into church that day so heavy that a worship song brought me to my knees, but I walked out feeling light and peaceful.
I could tell you five or six more stories just like this from the last few months. They are moments where I could not possibly come to any other conclusion than this: God is reminding me that He is with us through all of this, pulling me up from dark places, and giving me peace, joy, and strength in the midst of chaos. I don’t know what His purpose is for this season He has called us to walk through, but I do know He has one. He has a plan. And even when I feel sad, scared, and anxious, that is the truth that helps me keep moving forward.
“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.” Romans 8:28
[I wrote this in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t think of a good picture to use so I just left it blank. This morning after 2 weeks of being here I finally read the framed print next to the elevator, and I again dropped my head and laughed a little bit.]
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