And If Not… He Is Still Good
A friend shared this recently: “And if not, He is still good” (Daniel 3:18).
I can’t tell you how much it resonated. Sometimes God answers our prayers differently than we hope—or not in the way we want at all. And yet, even when His answer doesn’t match our expectations, He is still good.
I know this truth deeply, not just in theory, but in life. Sixteen years ago, I became a widow while raising two young children. In one moment, my life as I knew it disappeared. Plans, dreams, identity, routines—all gone. I found myself asking the same questions I imagine many of you have: Why? Why now? Why like this?
And yet, even in that heart-wrenching season, I began to see glimpses of God’s goodness. I didn’t see them right away, and it took me a long time to choose to see His goodness. He gave me strength I didn’t know I had, kindness from friends and family I hadn’t expected, and a sense of peace that could only come from Him. I began learning that His goodness isn’t dependent on circumstances.
God is still good, even when a diagnosis is frightening.
God is still good, even when you lose a job you loved.
God is still good, even when a dream you’ve worked toward is lost.
God is still good, even when a loved one dies.
God is still good, even when you lose a job you loved.
God is still good, even when a dream you’ve worked toward is lost.
God is still good, even when a loved one dies.
Joy in the Aftermath
The day after Christmas can bring a heaviness all its own — especially when you’re grieving. Maybe you spent weeks bracing yourself for Christmas without your spouse or loved one, expecting the day to be dramatic and emotionally overwhelming. But instead… it just felt quiet. Empty. Different in a way you can’t quite put into words.
And now it’s the day after, and what lingers isn’t the chaos or the intensity you prepared for.
It’s the ache.
The quiet realization that you still have to keep going.
There will be more holidays without him. More birthdays. More milestones he won’t be there for.
It’s the ache.
The quiet realization that you still have to keep going.
There will be more holidays without him. More birthdays. More milestones he won’t be there for.
And that realization can hit harder than Christmas Day itself.
I remember feeling this deeply as I approached the first anniversary of Jon’s death. I had braced myself so much for the “firsts” — the first Christmas, the first birthday, the first anniversary — that I hadn’t emotionally prepared for what came after. In some tucked-away part of my mind, I think I believed that if I could just make it through that first year, something would lift. That maybe the second Christmas would magically feel easier. That somehow reaching the anniversary would mark a turning point toward normalcy.
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Joy in the Manger
The Christmas story is often wrapped in words like joy, peace, and “good news.” We hear phrases like “Merry Christmas” and “joy to the world” everywhere — on cards, in songs, on store displays. But for someone walking through grief, joy can feel impossibly out of reach during the holidays.
And yet, when the angel appeared to the shepherds, he didn’t say,
“Good news of great joy — for those who feel happy.”
He said, “Good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” (Luke 2:10)
“Good news of great joy — for those who feel happy.”
He said, “Good news of great joy that will be for all the people.” (Luke 2:10)
Joy came for the grieving.
Joy came for the brokenhearted.
Joy came for those whose lives did not look the way they hoped.
Joy came for the brokenhearted.
Joy came for those whose lives did not look the way they hoped.
Joy came for you.
Because joy came in the person of Jesus.
Because joy came in the person of Jesus.
The angel went on to say,
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)
“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)
A Savior — not just for our sins, but for our sorrows.
A Savior who knows grief, pain, betrayal, loneliness, and loss.
A Savior who stepped into our broken world, not to escape suffering, but to enter into it.
Read more...A Savior who knows grief, pain, betrayal, loneliness, and loss.
A Savior who stepped into our broken world, not to escape suffering, but to enter into it.
Joy is a theme woven all throughout Scripture. From the Old Testament to the New, God’s people are called to rejoice — in good times, in ordinary days, and even in seasons of deep suffering. We read verses like, “Be joyful always,” and, “Rejoice in the Lord,” and yet joy can feel impossibly distant when your world has been shattered.
Joy is hard when you’re grieving.
It doesn’t come naturally when the person you love is gone.
And choosing joy when your heart is breaking can feel almost contradictory.
It doesn’t come naturally when the person you love is gone.
And choosing joy when your heart is breaking can feel almost contradictory.
For a long time, I believed joy had to come after the grief — as if joy were the reward for finally healing enough. But Scripture paints a very different picture. Over and over again, we see people in the Bible choosing joy right in the midst of loss, uncertainty, and suffering.
David wrote, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
He understood both the heaviness of sorrow and the promise that joy still had a place in his story.
Read more...He understood both the heaviness of sorrow and the promise that joy still had a place in his story.
When Thanksgiving Feels Heavy, Not Happy
Thanksgiving is on Thursday. This can be such a difficult holiday for so many. And perhaps you find yourself dreading it this year.
Maybe there’s an empty chair at the table that didn’t used to be there.
Perhaps the traditions you once held so tightly now feel unimportant.
Maybe instead of excitement and anticipation, you’re feeling sadness and dread.
Perhaps the traditions you once held so tightly now feel unimportant.
Maybe instead of excitement and anticipation, you’re feeling sadness and dread.
It’s okay if you aren’t looking forward to Thanksgiving. You don’t have to force gratitude that isn’t genuine. God isn’t disappointed in you for feeling the weight of your loss.
And maybe things need to be different this year.
When I was deep in grief during those first few holidays, it was hard to get into the spirit of the season. I missed Jon so much and felt like grief would always be heavy. It was easy to give in to despair and anger – and for a while, I did – but that only made the heaviness worse. Over time, I found I had to be intentional with my thoughts. Choosing to focus on Christ and His promises helped me notice the small blessings right in front of me. It didn’t take away the grief, but it helped refocus my heart so I wouldn’t stay trapped in isolation and bitterness.
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