Faith in the Struggle (God is Doing Something)

There are days when my heart aches so deeply I can barely breathe. The tears come without warning, flooding me with the reminder of all I’ve lost and all I still carry. Grief doesn’t move in a straight line—it circles back, crashes over me like waves, and then slowly recedes. In those moments of heaviness, it would be easy to believe that I am forgotten, that my prayers have gone unheard.

But I know better.

Because even in the silence, even when my world feels too heavy to carry, God is doing something.

---

Learning to Let Go

If there’s one thing this journey has taught me, it’s that control is an illusion. I’ve tried to grip so tightly onto my plans, my outcomes, my desperate need for life to look the way I thought it should. And every time, my hands are pried open again.

Letting go has been painful. It feels unnatural to surrender, especially when it comes to my children—both the ones I hold in my arms and the one I hold in my heart. But I’ve had to learn that my control does not equal protection. My striving does not equal security. Only God can stand in that place.

Proverbs 3:5-6 says:"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight."

Trust. Submit. Let go. It sounds simple, but in reality, it’s a daily, sometimes hourly, choice.

Faith in the Midst of the Ache

My faith doesn’t erase the ache. I still cry. I still grieve. I still feel the sting of absence and the frustration of unanswered prayers. But faith anchors me when everything else shifts. It reminds me that God’s hand is still at work, even when I can’t see it.

Sometimes faith is loud—shouting praises, declaring victory, singing until the tears dry. And sometimes it’s quiet—whispering “help me,” or simply sitting in silence, knowing He’s near. Both are holy. Both are enough.

Psalm 34:18 promises, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I hold onto that. I remind myself that my tears are not wasted; He catches every single one (Psalm 56:8).

His Will, My Path

If I could rewrite my story, I would. I would take away the pain, the loss, the unanswered questions. But I’ve come to realize that His will is greater than my understanding. What feels like wilderness to me may be preparation. What feels like heartbreak may be the soil for something I can’t yet imagine.

For my children—living and gone—I will keep walking this path. I may stumble, I may question, but I won’t let go of Him. Because He has never let go of me.

A Song That Speaks to My Soul

When words fail me and my prayers feel small, I often turn to worship. One song in particular, "Make Room" by The Church Will Sing, has carried me through many moments of surrender:

"Shake up the ground of all my tradition

Break down the walls of all my religion

Your way is better

Oh, Your way is better

And I will make room for You

To do whatever You want to

To do whatever You want to."

Those words pierce my heart every time. They remind me that God’s way is better than mine—even when I don’t understand it. They remind me to make room, to release my grip, to allow Him to move freely in my life and in the lives of my children.

When I sing those lines through tears, it’s not just worship—it’s surrender. It’s my heart saying, “Lord, I don’t know what You’re doing, but I trust You. I’m making room. I believe You are doing something.”

Holding Onto Hope

Hope, for me, looks like waking up each morning and choosing to believe that God is still moving mountains, even when I can’t see them shift. It looks like handing over my pain again and again, trusting that He will weave purpose out of it.

Isaiah 43:19 says, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

That’s what I cling to. That’s what I believe—even when it hurts, even when it doesn’t make sense.

Because at the end of the day, when everything else falls away, my faith is what remains. It’s what keeps me standing. It’s what reminds me: God is doing something.

A Prayer for the Journey

Father,I come before You with open hands and a weary heart. You know the ache I carry, the questions that linger, the tears that fall when no one sees. Lord, remind me that You see me, that You hold me, and that none of my pain is wasted in Your presence.

I surrender my need for control and place my children—both here with me and in Your arms—into Your care. Cover them with Your protection, Your love, and Your purpose. When the ache feels too heavy, carry me. When my faith feels small, remind me that even faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains.

Teach me to trust Your will, even when I don’t understand the path. Show me glimpses of Your goodness in the middle of the wilderness. Anchor me in hope, Lord, that I may keep believing You are doing something, even when I cannot yet see it.

Thank You for being close to the brokenhearted. Thank You for never letting me go. I rest in Your promise that You are making a way in the wilderness and streams in the desert.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

---

✨ If you are walking through your own season of ache, my prayer is that you, too, would feel the nearness of God. That you would remember: He is doing something—even here, even now.