The past two years have brought with them the greatest sorrow of my adult life. Cruel, rare, and unfamiliar diagnoses became the story my loved ones are living. Glioblastoma, Li-Fraumeni Syndrome, peripheral nerve sheath tumor, breast cancer… Really, God?

It’s all so much for one family to bear.

When I was younger, and not yet tested to this extreme, my husband and I would try to put ourselves in the shoes of friends or family when trial or tragedy befell them. We’d ask each other, “How would I want  to respond if something like ‘this’ happened to me?” We’d consider the circumstances in light of our faith, and imagine what a God-glorifying response might look like. Talking through real-life scenarios allowed us to think about and plan how we’d hope to react to a given situation.

Time has revealed that what is easy in theory, isn’t always so easy in practice.

To be honest, I’ve been disappointed in my reactions to our family’s hard circumstances. I’m not doing a great job of practicing what I profess. Rather than remembering the Good News of the gospel, I’ve focused on feeling hopeless and helpless because there’s so little I can do. Prayer doesn’t seem like enough.

In recent years, I’ve had dear friends walking out their own stories of grief and trauma, and they manage to be “all glory to God” in the midst of their trials. Not surface-level Pollyanna-ism, but earnest, hard-fought-for, beautiful responses to the kind of stuff no one should have to experience. Their inspiring responses have pointed me to Jesus in a way that makes me want more of Him.

It is also then that condemnation often creeps in. A convincing and faith-rattling tool of the devil, condemnation tempts me to compare myself to those who respond “better” than me. When that happens, I’m putty in Shame’s hands.

Having followed Jesus most of my life, I’m aware of what the Bible teaches about hardship. (Like how James says we should consider it all joy when we face all kinds of trials because it’s the path to God’s perfecting work in us.) But there’s an angry, grief-informed stubbornness to my heart these days. Too often I refuse to surrender to God’s plans and instead lean deeper into my heartache.

How can I trust in God’s goodness and believe His promises amidst the pain and suffering all around me? In moments of overwhelming grief, I wonder how anyone can.

The answer, at least in part, lies within my question: I can’t trust God’s goodness or believe His promises on my own. I don’t have the strength to manufacture hope or faith in the face of overwhelming grief. That’s the point. Belief, hope, and trust are not things I can produce — they are gifts of grace given by the Holy Spirit. If I could conjure them myself, why would I need God at all?

There’s freedom in understanding you can’t do what you weren’t made to do in the first place. My inability to “just believe” reveals my deep need for the Spirit to do in me what I cannot do on my own.

 Jesus told us He would send a Helper (John 14:16-17, 25-26 ESV) who:

• would be with us forever
• is the Spirit of truth
• dwells with us
• is in us
• is sent by God
• teaches us all things
• reminds us what Jesus says

What a gift! The Holy Spirit is God’s active presence in our lives, the supernatural power that fuels belief and hope and trust in the first place.

Last month, I attended an evening of worship with friends, and the theme was Jesus – The Light of the World. The Holy Spirit revealed something powerful to me about the sad and hard season in which I find myself, through the wisdom of Katherine Wolf:  “When the feeling of hope failed me, the habit and practice of hope carried me.” Light bulb moment.

When the feeling of hope failed me, the habit and practice of hope carried me….

Maybe for the first time, I recognized how my feelings were undermining my faith. Pain demands attention, and when I’m preoccupied with the circumstances that cause pain, I take my eyes off Jesus. How can you see God when you’re focusing on something else? It had never occurred to me to develop a habit of hope.

We’re nine days into a new year. Maybe you aren’t a resolution setter or yours are already unset (wink), but today is as good a time as any to establish a habit — to practice hope, belief, and trust in the goodness of God. For me, that looks like compiling a list of Scriptures that speak to these things and literally writing out Practice Hope, Practice Belief, Practice Trust on sticky notes attached to my computer.

If we’re consistent with our practices, spiritual muscle memory will carry us when trials and tragedies knock on our door and feelings overwhelm us. Practicing elements of our faith won’t make things perfect, but cultivating habits can train our hearts to make room for the Holy Spirit.

And, while we may not get the miracle or change in circumstances for which we’re praying, God will be changing us to hope, believe, and trust in Him. Our reactions to life’s sorrows will be different as a result. The active presence of God in our lives is the one thing that can change everything.

Including me and you.

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