Is God Holding Out on Me?

Take up your cross, they say. But why does it feel like I’ve been carrying it in circles? Sure, we all have our crosses in this life, and some are inevitably heavier than others. We also have our own set of blessings, and no doubt I have a wonderful family and a beautiful life. But, it wasn’t supposed to be this way. It feels…personal. Did I miss something?

When good things happen, we praise and thank God. When bad things happen, we tend to question Him. It’s a hard question, why. And the bigger the tragedy and hurt, the stronger the question. You know as well as I do that we have a choice when circumstances turn for the worst. We can accept and trust that God has a greater plan, or we can blame God, wave our fist at him, and turn our back to Him. But when I was faced with my hardest trials, I chose to praise God in the storm. I chose to follow Him in humble acceptance and press on in faith. I know I didn’t have to. For me, I was more strengthened to accept tough situations if I believed there was something better on the other side, just like it can be more comforting to accept hardships if we somehow see good come out of them. So I worked on healing, I put one foot in front of the other, and I stayed focused on what was important. I remained loyal, and did everything I was supposed to do. I was told, “God has a plan for you. Trust in Him. Everything happens for a reason. You will be rewarded for your faithfulness.” And that’s what I believed— at least, my version of that truth.

You Promised

Today, I can stand here and tell you, I did not prepare for this truth, this acceptance. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I took a big step back for reflection and introspection. I considered my life now, how it could be different, where it’s been, and where it was going. I looked into the tender and vulnerable places of my heart that I hadn’t visited in a while. I will be frank: I was never on a particular timeline, but I thought God had a special person for me and the girls. At this point of my life, He hasn’t sent that person. And I realized the hard truth— maybe He never will.

Fear welled up in my heart, and the well ran deep. No one prepared me for this. You reap what you sow, right? Well, I knew being a believer didn’t mean things would always go my way. But, I was told there was a purpose to my pain. They said something better was coming. They said we deserved love. Was that just to comfort me? Cue all of the Bible verses, feel-good Instagram quotes, or any of my own blogs about how God has a plan and everything will be perfect in His time. Could I even believe that anymore? I had prayed it all before. But this time, His lack of intervention almost felt…cruel. My hurt felt like tears in the rain, unnoticed and unheard. But God, You promised. And I believed You.

You see, all of this—it was supposed to be temporary. I wasn't supposed to do this alone. The weight, pressure and fear of being a single parent is heavy. And I'm weary. And I'm tired of being hurt. It feels like I’ve spent most of my adult life working to turn bad circumstances into positive outcomes. I just needed to pray more, work harder, be a superstar mom, buy a house, cook healthy, stay in shape, and do the most! By now, I've prepared and followed all the right steps to lead to the desirable outcome. So where is the peace I was promised? Haven't I earned it? We all just want to be seen, known and loved for who we are. And the girls and I, we should be chosen.

I won’t lie; I lived in that darkness for a few weeks. It's not an unheard concept to wrestle with God. We try to solve things for ourselves or bend His will. In Genesis, Jacob wrestled with God. Job had good reasons to be angry with God, too. We grapple with God when we do not understand. I knew in my heart God wouldn’t have abandoned me, but why wasn’t He coming through for me? It was a soul-shaking pain that haunted me at night and lingered in the day. But friends, I knew I couldn’t stay in that pain. It’s embarrassing to admit I was there to begin with. Plus, I recognize Satan's way of manipulation is tailor-made for our fears. So I’ve been working hard to crawl out of it, slowly but surely. After all, I already have more than enough to complete my life, and it is beautiful.

The Healing Work of Your Hands

"You, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, You are the potter; we are all the work of Your hand" (Isaiah 64:8).

Here’s what I learned. When we get knocked down and are rendered helpless, we have to feel what we feel. It may reduce us to rubble and clay, but He can work with us better that way—to rebuild and reshape us into who we were created to be. Maybe a breakdown is the only way to a breakthrough.

So I reflected and prayed. Some days the grief itself was my prayer. At first, I couldn’t put my finger on where the tears were coming from. That is until God tenderly touched His finger to an old wound—the innermost, vulnerable place of pain in my heart. New experiences had punctured that same wound, and I felt God calling me back to it. It was like He was gently pressing His finger on a fresh bruise. He drew my attention to it, as if He was saying, “Here’s where I need to work.” And ouch, it hurt. It reminded me of Eva when she came home with a couple of skinned knees last week. As I put medicine on her scrapes and bruises, she winced and tried to pull away, “Mom, that hurts! Don’t do that!” Well friends, that’s how I felt with God. And I wanted to pull away because it hurt. I didn’t want to be vulnerable there. I didn’t want to go there, and I wanted to keep it covered. “I’ve already dealt with that and it’s done,” I thought. But this wound needed further attention, and God wanted to heal me there…but I had to be vulnerable and let him tend to it.

“In my deepest wound, I saw your glory, and it dazzled me.” - St. Augustine of Hippo

I do believe God works in seasons and processes, and we can't just demand Him to magically intervene. God’s desire is always intimacy, and it is never a quick fix. Really, the healing of wounds isn’t a matter of fixing; it’s a matter of loving and forgiving. So I surrendered, uncovered the wound, and I mourned the life I thought I’d have—times two. I considered how I am forever changed from these painful experiences. These things don’t define me, but how I chose to live through them, and after them, is forever a part of my testimony.

Wounds have the power to change us. They can be instruments for healing. It’s these openings in our heart where God wants to let His light in. If we allow Him to work, these unique experiences are what make us so special. He wants to enter our messiness, our pain, our less-than-perfect state. You are the only one who can truly understand what you’ve been through. And that means you are the only one who can share your testimony. Our unique scars remain, too—perhaps to remind us of our strength, our resiliency and our purpose.

Here's what I know. Because of original sin, we won’t experience the true, peaceful Garden we long for on this side of Heaven. So why do we suffer? Well, ask Jesus why He had to be crucified. Suffering is a great mystery but it can be redemptive if we choose it to be. Maybe it’s meant to save us, not to hurt us. Ultimately, our pain can change us.

After wrestling with God all night, Jacob was not left empty-handed. He confronted his weaknesses and received God’s blessing (Genesis 32:29).

Through this experience, God called me to a deeper vulnerability and trust. It seemed impossible. But just like Thomas put his hand in Jesus’ side, I gave my doubts to God and allowed His wounds to minister to mine. And by His wounds we are healed (Isaiah 53:5). With Him, we are continually changed into who we were created to be. So I used that breakdown as a catalyst for a breakthrough—a new level of healing, a deeper love, and a greater intimacy with Him. And He told me 1) not to be so hard on myself and 2) He's proud of me.

From Glory to Glory

"We all, who with unveiled faces, contemplate the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit" (2 Corinthians 3:18).

I was able to find some relief for my unbelief when I removed my own worldly expectations and understandings from the situation. I had to give up the need to control and understand. It requires humility, an acceptance that we are not on God’s level. It demands a dying of self, realizing that our wants may detract us from God's will. I realized that all along, He hadn't promised I'd get what I wanted, just that He'd be with me through it. He shows up for us, in the middle of where we are, in the midst of suffering, sickness, dysfunction, fear or doubt. I believe that life is so much more than what our eyes can see. In fact, He IS the more. So I choose to still believe. And though it is hard, I accept that my reward may not come on this side of eternity.

Friends, God is not holding out on you. He is not hiding from you. He’s not keeping the answers from you to be cruel. He is bearing the weight of the truth for you, just like He already bore the cross. Maybe He is protecting you. I know the world is unjust, and it’s okay to be sad or doubtful. It’s okay to ask why. Actually, I think God wants us to, to passionately question our purpose. God created us to love—to be in relationship with Him. He wants to be with you, and He only wants you to love Him. So when disappointment is too much to bear, remember that your ultimate fulfillment is with our Maker. He is with you. And He won't fail on that promise.

My story is not yet finished, and neither is yours. Don’t harden your heart because you don’t know the rest. You may have to face the death of the life you thought you'd have in order to renew and restore it. And that’s okay. To be vulnerable, with yourself and with others, demands a trust. It’s surrender over and over again. It's living in the present moment. And it’s knowing that God is who He says He is. Ultimately, we can feel the hurt, but we can’t keep holding on to it. So I take this pain in my hands—these expectations, these shattered dreams—and I put them back on the altar. I close my eyes and feel Him take my hands now that they are free. This is what gives me the confidence to trust. This is what gives me the ability to say God continues to carry me through every second of my life. And it’s what gives me the conviction to grab your hand and walk with you on this journey to Him. Because to share my story, is part of my purpose. It is this vulnerable love that He calls us to. So although I can't see through the fog, I continue to step forward in faith. I’m still getting to where I’m going. In the end, He is my happily ever after. And I'd mount the altar every single day if He asked me to.

I chose the word “hope” as a compass for my spiritual growth this year. Little did I know how my faith and hope would be tested soon after, as I entered the desert this Lent. But my spiritual director reminded me that hope, as the theological virtue, actually isn’t a wish or a positive mindset. Hope is a confidence, a firm belief, that God will give us the graces necessary to reach Heaven. It means that He will give us eternal happiness and the means to obtain it. It does not mean He will fulfill my needs and wants on this Earth.

Lord, we know You are with us and You hear us. The cries of our heart matter to You. We surrender our dreams into Your hands. Even when we can't understand, we still believe.

“Let us remain firm in the confession of our hope without wavering, for the one who made the promise is trustworthy” (Hebrews 10:23).