I’m not a fan of rollercoasters. Not that I haven’t sometimes braved them, but when faced with the choice of riding a rollercoaster, I usually opt out.
But I don’t have the choice to opt out of the ups, downs, and abrupt twists and turns in life. The grief that finds us when a loved one is suddenly gone. The unexpected diagnosis, the miscarriage, the infertility, the betrayal, the loss of job or home, the fractured relationship, the rejected application, the life-altering injury. Sometimes simply getting out of bed in the morning is anything but simple; it takes all we have to get up and greet the day. We watch as some dreams and hopes we once had slowly turn to dust. Not one single person is immune to pain or grief.
We all feel the crushing weight of this world at times—this fallen, sin-stained, broken, busted-up world. “This should not be,” our hearts cry out. “This is not as it should be.” Our hearts testify to this truth because God wrote eternity and his very law on our hearts (Eccl. 3:11; Rom. 2:15). We know what is right—and what is wrong. We rightly cry out at injustice and long for the day when all will be made right.
We’ve all echoed David’s cry:
How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your face from me?
How long shall I take counsel in my soul,
Having sorrow in my heart all the day? (Ps. 13:1–2)
“How long?” we wonder. Life’s heartaches can be unbearable.
Even Jesus wept.
Yes, Jesus was a man of sorrows. He was acquainted with grief. Remember, he told us we would have trouble in this world (John 16:33). Trouble, sorrow, pain—all these are guaranteed in this life.
How can we trust that God is good when we’re in the middle of a difficult or painful circumstance?
“Take courage,” Jesus says. “I have overcome the world.” The loss, the pain, the grief will end. Jesus is victorious.
He proved that when he rose from the grave—when he took our sins upon himself, nailed them to the cross, felt the full weight of the world, and declared, “It is finished” (John 19:28–30; Col. 2:14). After walking with us and experiencing our pain, he conquered evil and death forever. We have been rescued from the dominion of darkness and can now enter into his kingdom of light (Col. 1:12–14).
We must remember what is good and true when life is hard. The word “apologetics” comes from the Greek word apologia, which means “defense.” Sometimes we have to defend against our very own doubts.
By drawing from what I’ve learned about God in the past, I gain confidence that I can trust him with my present and my future—by recalling how we know the Bible is reliable, by going over the arguments for God’s existence, by examining the accounts of Jesus’ resurrection, by bringing to mind how Christianity corresponds with reality. Recalling what I’ve learned gives me confidence in God.
Or you might begin searching for the first time. Read the Bible, look for answers to your questions, answer your doubts. Christians have been seeking and asking these questions for two thousand years—and finding answers. Even John the Baptist (Jesus’ cousin!) had doubts after proclaiming his coming, and still Jesus answered his doubts (Matt. 11:1–15).
Know this: God promises to work all things together for the good of those who love him. We’re being conformed to the image of his Son (Rom 8:28–29). He turns darkness to light and leads us beside still waters to refresh our souls (Ps. 23). He walks step by step with us, even if we don’t feel it (Heb. 13:5).
A contemporary worship song puts it this way: “I won't be formed by feelings; I'll hold fast to what is true.” No matter what we’re feeling, we can have a deep-seated trust in God and his promises because he is faithful and true. Even when we don’t understand it, we trust that God is working for good. We have this hope as an anchor, firm and secure.
Take courage, dear reader, and rest in the truth.