Some seasons only make sense in hindsight. In the moment, often you only see grief,
disappointment, and apparently unanswered prayers. Then, out of nowhere, it becomes
clear what God had been doing all along. A different rationale suddenly envelopes the mind — peace beyond understanding where one sees clearly the sustaining and ever-present
character and love of God. This reminder takes me back to a beautiful image from Genesis 28.
Jacob was fleeing home, exhausted and uncertain about the future. He laid down to sleep in the wilderness, and during the night God met him in a dream. He promised Jacob He would remain with him, keep him, and fulfill every promise spoken over his life. When Jacob woke, his response was simple but deeply convicting: “Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not” (Genesis 28:16).
In my current season of new beginnings and comfortable endings, I find myself returning to those words again and again. I can’t help but wonder how often we miss God’s presence because it doesn’t look the way we expected. How often do we become consumed with disappointment, grief, anxiety, and unanswered prayers and fail to recognize His presence all along?
Recently, I emerged from a season marked by heartbreak and disappointment. Looking back, I realized something painful: God was kind to me during that season, yet I missed much of His goodness while living through it. I had one of those Jacob moments: Surely the Lord was here, and I didn’t know it. I began to ponder: How many wrestle with this same dilemma? How do we embrace grief and gratitude at the same time? How do we acknowledge heartbreak without losing sight of the good hope offered by the Lord?
I had always known these could exist simultaneously, but I struggled to believe they could exist simultaneously. If someone hurt me, I assumed love had disappeared. If life felt painful, I assumed goodness was absent. But a mentor once told me something that changed the way I viewed both relationships and faith: Two feelings can be true at once. One neither diminishes nor devalues the other. Now, I understand that more deeply. Love and frustration coexist. Joy and sorrow sit in the same room. Hope and disappointment often occupy the same heart.
The Christian life constantly invites us into this tension, living in the “already and not yet.” We experience the goodness of God now, while living in a broken world awaiting restoration, where beauty and suffering exist side by side. That is, of course, until Christ returns and makes all things new. For now, both realities remain.
Honestly, life there is uncomfortable. However, God never promised the Christian life would be easy. In fact, Scripture repeatedly reminds us hardship is inevitable. Yet, woven throughout every trial is the promise of God’s presence. Isaiah 43:2 affirms, “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.”
Notice God does not say if we walk through deep waters or fire. He says when. Hardship is not evidence of God’s absence. Sometimes, it is the place where His presence becomes most clear.
Sometimes, I find myself clinging tightly to things I cannot change. I replay conversations, dwell on disappointments, and hold on to frustration as though, somehow, my worrying will change the outcome. But God continually reminds me I was never meant to carry everything alone.
If I truly believe the promises of Scripture, then I can rest and delight in them. Exodus 14:14 says, “The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.” This verse has become an anchor. A few days after my grandmother’s burial, while out for a walk, I found my mind spiraling through grief, family tension, and unresolved hurt. As the anxiety grew louder, the Holy Spirit gently interrupted my thoughts with a simple yet important truth: You do not have to endure this alone. Often, these spirals result in contempt, bitterness, and sin. This is a pattern we must break. The Christian life, in tension, can have something better.
In that moment I pictured myself breathing in God’s promises and breathing out fear. Breathing in peace. Breathing out control. Breathing in truth. Breathing out the exhausting need to hold everything together myself. Those feelings did not magically disappear, but they no longer held me in their grasp.
That distinction matters.
Human emotions are real, but they are not our foundation. God’s Word is. A loving Father does not shame us for our grief; He meets us inside our grief and gently directs our eyes toward something steadier than feelings. Feelings are made and given to us by God, but feelings often make us good followers, not good leaders. I am reminded of the Israelites beside the Red Sea in Exodus 14. God led them there into a situation that looked impossible — behind them an army, before them a seemingly impassable body of water. Fear made complete sense in that moment. Yet God had not trapped them but positioned them for an unimaginable deliverance.
Sometimes, God brings us to places where our only option is trust. With our “backs against the wall,” we finally realize He alone can save. He told the Israelites three simple (yet difficult) things: do not fear; stand firm; be silent.
What if we lived that way? What if we stopped our thoughts long enough to recognize God is already present in our uncertainty? What if we believed peace is not just something waiting in eternity but available through Christ right now? As Christians, it is easy to settle for head knowledge — knowing Scripture, quoting verses, agreeing with truth intellectually. But living as though we truly believe God is near is something entirely different.
When we remain in Scripture daily, God gradually reshapes us from the inside out. We learn to surrender fear, not feed it. We practice replacing bitterness with gentleness, anxiety with trust, despair with hope. This is sanctification. The slow, refining work of becoming more like Christ. And it requires intentional surrender again and again.
Sure, I still have dreams, disappointments, fears, and unanswered questions. But I no longer fear I have been forgotten by God. The same God who led the Israelites to the Red Sea opened a way to the other side. The same God who met Jacob in the wilderness still meets His daughters today.
Even here. Even now.
If you find yourself in a season of tension, grieving while trying to hope, waiting while trying to trust, maybe Jacob’s words can become your prayer too: Surely the Lord is in this place.
Even when you do not see Him.
About the Writer: Hannah Gaddy is married to Frank and is one of five siblings. She is proud to be the middle child and loves coming from a big family. A recent graduate of Welch College, she is excited to discover what God will use her to do. Her favorite things include hosting friends, going to Trader Joe’s, and learning new coffee recipes.
