One of my favorite pastimes—though not a proud one—is boldly proclaiming my faith in God when life is calm, only to panic the moment the waters get rough. When things are going well, I can preach about God’s love, His promises, and how fully aligned I am with His eternal truth. But at the first sign of trouble, I retreat into old habits—worry, fear, doubt, and questioning why my path looks the way it does.
I think this is the human condition. We trust what we can see, touch, and control. Our physical reality feels more convincing than the unseen spiritual one. A former boss once told me we are like old Tupperware—no matter how many times you wash it, there’s a faint greasy film that never feels perfectly clean. That’s my faith sometimes. Not broken—but imperfect, unfinished, still being scrubbed and shaped.
And maybe that’s the point.
If life were perfect—no pain, no confusion, no adversity—would we seek God at all? Would we pray, surrender, hope, or believe in something greater? Probably not. Perfection would become the idol, and faith would be unnecessary.
Our troubles, as painful as they are, give us the opportunity to choose faith. To return to our Maker. To remember we are not in control. This world is not designed to be flawless—it's meant to form us. The messiness is the invitation.
When I look at the suffering in the world, I still ask, Why? But deep down, I believe in God Almighty. I believe that life refines us, purifies us, prepares us for something beyond what we can comprehend. There must be more to existence than what our physical senses can grasp.
So I keep working—seeking God within myself, surrendering again and again, trusting that transformation takes time. As the saying goes, “If a person perfects himself, he can help thousands.” Maybe faith isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about continuing the journey anyway.
“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” — Mark 9:24
Oh Lord, continue to guide me—especially when life doesn’t make sense.
Shape me, refine me, and prepare me for a purpose greater than I can see.
When fear rises, anchor me in Your presence.
When doubt whispers, remind me of Your promises.
Help me find solid ground in You, because earthly ground will never be enough.
Strengthen my faith—not just when life is calm, but when the storm rages.
I trust You, even in the unfinished parts of me.
Amen.
