trusting God when life is hard Archives - Christy Miller Bell

How To Hear God When Everything Falls Apart

Apr 15, 2026

When church leaders wound you, when ministry dreams die, when everything you’ve built crumbles—these are the moments that test whether your faith can survive. It’s difficult to hear God’s voice. But when we go through devastating rejection, we can learn to recognize God’s presence in our deepest pain. Even when we’re fed the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, our Teacher never hides himself.

The day felt like it was closing in. The four walls pulled tight together. My mind swirled as I recalled the words that cut like daggers. A double-edged knife thrust from the mouth of the pastor. “We don’t want you here. Don’t come back.”

We had given almost two years of our lives to this church, and now we were being told our work was faulty. Lacking. What’s worse is that our children had established friendships here. We had built a ministry from the ground up. It was thriving. The people loved us. They were our family. The hurt was so raw I imagined it was a little like cutting off an arm without anesthetic.

In our brokenness and hurt, we could have left it all. Walked away from the church. From God.

And no one would have questioned our decision.

But we couldn’t.

In the shadow of those painful days, we groped for answers. But God continually reminded us that he was present in our pain. And he was still sovereign. The darkness nearly suffocated us, but the promises of God became the light we needed to keep going.

And though the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. — Isaiah 30:20-21

It was a balm for the gaping wound. A healing word in the midst of the hurt. That God had not abandoned us. It was by his leadership we found ourselves in this place. Just as he led the people of Israel through the wilderness to teach them how to rely on him, we were learning to stretch our faith when we didn’t understand or see the way.

And Though He Gives…

Years before, God had confirmed his call on our lives. Fresh out of Seminary and eager to begin a life together, my husband and I waited for God’s hand of blessing. But we soon learned the hard truth. From his hand comes both the bitter and the sweet. Through experience, we began to see how God weaves them together for a grander purpose we often don’t see. Even Job recognized that God’s hand sent both the rain and the drought.

…Should we accept only good things from the hand of God and never anything bad? — Job 2:10

The Psalmist exposes the pain of his heart as a reminder that all things we experience in this life come through the filter of his hand.

You have fed us with sorrow and made us drink tears by the bucketful. — Psalm 80:5

So often I want to run for shelter. To seek escape from the trials of this life. I want things to be easy and smooth. To know exactly what comes next. To be comfortable. And even though he comforts me in my struggle, I am never promised the easy life.

Paul’s words tether me to reality. “My grace is all you need.”

— 2 Corinthians 12:9

…The Bread of Adversity And The Water of Affliction…

As much as I want the bounty of the good life, I am often fed with the scant provisions of the bread of adversity and the water of affliction.

How can I survive when the food I need for life is laced with difficulty and struggle?

The term used in Isaiah 30:20 that is translated as adversity literally means a pebble, or a tight place. Then the writer builds the pressure by using the word affliction. It describes being squeezed hard or hemmed in. The crushing weight of our distress makes survival uncertain. Yet in the midst of the strain the promise remains. God is present.

No matter if our trouble is momentary and easily fixed or if we are constrained to the point of death, God is with us. Through every tribulation, every trial, every trouble, we are never alone.

…Your Eyes Will See…Your Ears Will Hear…

The promise for Israel then is a promise for me today. When the days are lean, I still don’t know how we will get through. When the road is rough, I long for a rest. When the path leads me in unfamiliar territory, I still question and doubt. On my own, I fail him.

Every.

Single.

Day.

But his grace is never about what I do or don’t do. It’s a certain promise that exists outside of my actions. And that’s the best part. Even when I don’t understand why, he never stops leading me.

It’s the beautiful dance of delight and joy with sorrow and suffering. Each coming in its perfect time.

The trials of my younger days are no less painful remembering, but here on the other side, I can see the way God led us. I’ve learned to recognize his voice whispering direction when I come to a crossroads. I understand that no matter what I go through, he is with me. And even if I don’t know the reasons why, I can trust that everything he does comes from a heart of love.

When the walls threaten to close in on me now, I search the landscape to see his hand guiding. I move forward with my ears tuned to the tender whisper behind me.

What has God taught you through your wilderness season? Share in the comments below—your story might be the encouragement another reader desperately needs today.

Need help hearing God’s voice in your pain? Download my free 5-day devotional guide based on Isaiah 30:20-21. Get daily reflections, journaling prompts, and prayers for your wilderness season.

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Why God Sometimes Speaks Loudest in the Dark

Apr 8, 2026

When anxiety keeps you awake at 2 AM and dark thoughts swarm your mind, it can feel like God is absent. But this post explores a profound biblical truth: the darkest moments of our lives are often when God speaks most clearly and offers his greatest promises. From Abram counting stars to Paul singing in prison, Scripture reveals that nighttime suffering is not abandonment but invitation.

You will have songs as in the night when you keep the festival, and gladness of heart as when one marches to the sound of the flute, to go to the mountain of the Lord, to the Rock of Israel.

— Isaiah 30:29

The moon is bright, but shrouded behind the floating clouds. In the darkness the world lies still. Suspended. Quiet. But my mind is a torrent of memories. Some terrifying. The night amplifies my fear. Worry pushes sleep away and, like Job, I complain that “the night is long, and I toss and turn till the dawn” (7:4).

When I lay my head on my pillow and try to rest, the negative thoughts swarm. Why does the night conjure up my anxiety? Why does dread swell in my chest when I think about the future?

Or my stomach churn over the life choices of my children? Why do I mourn because life hasn’t turned out the way I thought it should?

Sometimes I wonder if my expectations are too high. As a believer, I want to live in the light, to experience good all the time. I don’t want to wrestle with the darkness — to cry when I get off the phone with my kids who are struggling. I don’t want to experience pain or heartbreak or worry. It hurts.

Sadly, God doesn’t promise I will never experience dark times. Just because I put my faith in him doesn’t automatically exempt me from trials. But he does promise that he is always with me. He will never leave me or forsake me (Joshua 1:9). He also promises that, even in the middle of my darkest moments, I will have a song in the night.

Isaiah spoke these words to a people who were devastated by loss. A foreign nation was invading. Their homes destroyed and their lives upended. Nothing would ever be the same again. Yet, God’s promise gives them hope that one day they would sing again. They would celebrate and rejoice once more.

God still speaks in my dark moments, and he will put a song in my heart once more. It’s a promise that was fulfilled in Jesus and made real in my own life. And when my own hope seems far away, I remember that the night won’t last forever. What God spoke into their devastation, he speaks into mine. On the nights when I need to hear it most, I go back to what he’s already said.

The Night Is Temporary

Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. — Psalm 30:5

God is the creator of both the darkness and the light. He orchestrates the timing of each in my life for his glory. Just like the night leads to day, so I can trust that the God who brought the night will also cause the sun to rise in its perfect time. There will be an end to the night and the darkness that creeps in threatening to derail my faith. The pain of loss gives way to joy eventually. Suffering doesn’t last forever for those who belong to Christ. The empty cross and the vacant tomb testify to this truth.

God Speaks in the Night

Look toward heaven, and number the stars… — Genesis 15:5

Most of the time, stars are not visible to the human eye during the day. But, in the country, on a clear night, you can see stars for miles. It takes darkness to make the stars shine the brightest.

It was a clear night like this when God told Abram to walk outside and count the stars. God gave him the promise of a bright future full of hope. That same night a deep sleep fell on Abram. In the middle of his immense and terrifying darkness, God spoke and a covenant was forged.

But this wasn’t the only time God spoke in the dark. Jacob wrestled with God in the night. And, even though he woke with a limp as evidence of his struggle, he also walked away a new man who’d been touched by God. It’s a reminder that we may bear the scars of our struggle, but the darkest moments bring the greatest blessing.

A Song is a Prayer

By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. —Psalm 42:8

I grew up in an old, creaky house. The wind whistled through the cracks in the single pane windows. At night, my dad assured me the groans I heard were only the house settling after a long day in the sun, but I wasn’t convinced. In my room with darkness surrounding me, I could imagine all manner of evil coming after me. So I decided to play music. I put on headphones and closed my eyes tight. Eventually, the morning came and I survived. Years later, when my children wrestled with their own imaginations, we would rock and sing hymns until they fell asleep.

At midnight, Paul and Silas prayed and sang hymns to God. They were having church in the middle of a prison in the middle of the night. How? They didn’t know how this story would end, but they trusted the God who wrote their story that he would be with them until the end. The songs didn’t change the circumstances. It changed their perspective.

These songs in the quiet of the night are a desperate prayer. A plea for comfort. A cry for help. I still pray at 2 AM, when the night is overwhelming and all traces of light are hidden for the moment. I still sing a song to remind myself of God’s promises when the darkness is heavy. One by one I lay my worries at his feet. And when the clouds of pain threaten to obscure the light of God’s goodness, I remember that God is with me. The moon may still be shrouded. The house still quiet. But if you listen, you can hear it. A song begins.

When anxiety strikes at 2 AM, you need more than platitudes—you need biblical truth that speaks to your pain. Subscribe to receive weekly devotionals that offer real hope for real struggles. Plus, get my free printable: “10 Verses for Sleepless Nights.”

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Stop Praying This Prayer For Your Children

Mar 26, 2026

Many Christian parents pray a seemingly selfless prayer: “Lord, even if you never bless me, bless my children.” It sounds humble. It sounds sacrificial. But what if this well-intentioned prayer actually reveals a deep spiritual problem?

Because you despise this word and trust in oppression…

–Isaiah 30:12

It was a simple and (I thought) humble prayer. I’ve spoken it a hundred times over the years. It was a mother’s wish, a sacrifice of love, a willingness to do without so that my kids might succeed. The prayer went something like this: “Lord, even if you never bless me, bless my children. If you never give me anything else, provide for my children.”

The heart behind the prayer was one of love. More than anything, I truly want my kids to have more than I had. To be more than I was. The words were spoken in hope that God would somehow transfer the good he had planned for me over onto them. As if there wasn’t quite enough to go around. It was like I was saying, “We might run out so give my portion to the kids.” Like mashed potatoes at dinner.

But the reality of that prayer is that I think I’m too far-gone, too insignificant for God to use or bless. I think I’ve messed up too many times. Everyone else can be blessed, but not me. Give my mashed potatoes to someone more deserving. It is a prayer that still has me as the center. And it reveals what I really believe about God.

Misplaced Trust

When I read the words of Isaiah 30, it hits like a punch in the gut. I’m supposed to trust God. To believe him and I do, sometimes. But the hard truth is that I think there is a ceiling on the blessing. That even if I do everything right, I’ve already used up my limit of God’s goodness.

When Isaiah uses the word trust, he means something physical—throwing yourself down before a stronger party. That’s what I do every time I pray that prayer. I throw myself down. Just not before God.

And where I place my trust determines my future.

This was the message of Isaiah and the prophets. The rebellious people of Israel didn’t want to hear the truth of God’s word about their own lives. Like me, they didn’t want to be reminded of their sin. Instead they asked the prophets to tell them lies.

…who say to the seers…and to the prophets, ‘Do not prophesy to us what is right; speak to us smooth things, prophesy illusions…

—Isaiah 30:10

The identity of the people was wrapped up in the God of Abraham, but they didn’t want to know him. They trusted in their own plans. They found security in forged alliances. Instead of turning back to the merciful God who wanted to bring them salvation, the leaders called on Egypt for support. They threw themselves down at the mercy of their circumstances instead of the God who created them.

Like the rebellious Israelites, I am often frenetic in my actions to make life what I want it to be. If I need money, I get another job. If I need acceptance, I change my appearance or actions to fit in with the crowd. If I need security, I search for ways to build more into my life. I’m in constant motion to fulfill my own needs.

But God calls me to rest.

A Tattered Banner

In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength. —Isaiah 30:15

Isaiah reminded the Israelites that true strength was not found in their allegiance to another country or how fit they were for battle. It had nothing at all to do with their abilities or identity. God alone was their source. He is my source, too.

But when I refuse to put my trust in God, regardless of how much I have, it will never be enough. God will strip away everything until all that’s left is a solitary flagpole on a desolate mountaintop. A weak signal on a hill. A tattered remnant of a hopeless fight. For the Israelites, a ripped flag was never a mere ornament, it was a warning, a testimony of what happened on the battlefield. They chose to walk away.

Yet, he did not completely destroy them. For them, this one small signal was a witness of God’s gracious kindness. There still stood a shredded flag flapping in the wind. Even when they fully deserved to be destroyed because of their defiance, God was merciful.

In my own rebellion, he doesn’t give me what I deserve. When I am broken, God always desires to demonstrate love and compassion. I am thankful. It is enough, but God does more.

There is more here than simple survival. God wants us to walk away from this battle changed, not just alive. He wants to shower us with grace. Unmerited favor. He delights to bend low and be generous.

God Waits

The Lord waits to be gracious to you and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of Justice; blessed are all those who wait for him. —Isaiah 30:18

In the original language, waits denotes restrained action. Its movement is deliberate and patient. Steady anticipation full of confidence. Most of the time in Scripture it is associated with humans waiting for God. And at the end of Isaiah 30:18, we are instructed to wait for him, to restrain our actions until we know his plan instead of pushing ahead on our own.

Yet there is a striking comparison between the end of the verse and the beginning. From the start, God does the waiting. He is patient with us. He not only holds back his wrath, but he waits to shower us with his favor.

God’s promise for them is a promise for me. For you. When I trust him alone, he will bring rain in due season and a bountiful harvest. Abundance and overflowing streams of mercy. Light for the journey and hope in the night. There will always be enough. Even for me.

Take a moment today to examine your prayers. What do they reveal about what you truly believe about God’s character? Are you limiting his blessing through scarcity thinking? Ask God to show you where you’ve been throwing yourself down before the wrong things—and rest in the truth that his mercy is patient, abundant, and meant for you.

Did this post resonate with you? Comment below and let me know. I read every response, and I’d love to hear what God is teaching you about trust, rest, and his patient mercy.

How to Find Rest When You’ve Lost Your Way

Mar 4, 2026

Standing at spiritual crossroads is exhausting. This devotional explores Jeremiah 6:16, where God invites his wandering people to return to the ancient path—not as punishment, but as the way to rest. When busyness, ambition, and cultural pressures pull us away from God, he stands at the crossroads waiting, ready to show us the way home.

This is what the Lord says: “Stop at the crossroads and look around. Ask for the old, godly way, and walk in it. Travel its path, and you will find rest for your souls. But you reply, ‘No, that’s not the road we want!’

— Jeremiah 6:16

Darkness is falling and we are still miles away from the end of the hiking trail. From the top of the overlook, the oranges and reds explode as the trees transition into fall. My kids and I explored the cool spray of a hidden waterfall a little too long. Now the urgency hits hard. As the sun goes down, the trail grows darker, the landscape changes. Where once we were following a well-worn path and discovering the beauty of nature, now we stumble over fallen trees and strain to see deteriorating sign posts. If we’re not careful, we’ll become lost in the undergrowth of the forest.

Ancient Paths

Like old, well-worn hiking trails, the people of God could easily look behind them to see the ancient path of obedience their ancestors forged. The testimonies of these faithful men bore witness of the power of God. People like Elijah, the great prophet, who called down fire from heaven, and King David, a man after God’s own heart. Jeremiah wanted the people to remember where they came from so they could find their way back to the God who loved them. They were at a crossroads. Their choice would determine their future.

But the people of Judea had lost their way. They had been known as the people of God, but after years of disobedience, they forgot their identity. They served themselves more than they served God. The Law was clear: “You must not make for yourself an idol” (Deuteronomy 5:8). Yet, they followed after the gods of the people around them.

Rather than practicing justice and mercy, they neglected to care for the hurting among them. Instead of walking the path of their ancestors who followed God, they chose the way that led to destruction through consistent disobedience and neglect of God and his ways. As a result, the Temple sat corrupted by the relics of foreign idols, and their leadership watered down the truth with comforting lies.

A Crossroads

Much like the people of Jeremiah’s day, I stand at a crossroads. The world pulls me forward to live for myself. Busyness threatens to crowd out my prayer life. Ambition pulls me away from those entrusted to my care. But behind me lies another path— the ancient path of sacrifice and service, love and discipline. The path that leads to rest.

This is the well-worn path of faith. Marked with with the testimonies of men and women who walked with Jesus and gave their lives to preserve the ancient road. They chose the way of obedience even when the way was hard.

Choose Wisely

Each day, Jesus stands beside me whispering, “Follow me. I am the way, the truth, and the life.” When I stumble in the darkness of my own making, he stands ready to offer hope that will not disappoint. Rest for my weary soul and forgiveness ready to cover my sin. When I choose to follow this ancient path, surrendering my will to the Father, the way becomes clear before me. It’s like feeling the cool mist of the waterfall on a hot day. Relief in knowing I am not alone on this journey.

Today, the question is not whether I can find my way back to God. He has already shown me the path—and he’s been waiting at the crossroads the whole time. The only question is whether I’ll choose to walk it.

Prayer: Lord, I am tired of trying to forge my way through my own path. Help me see the way forward as I seek to walk with you.

Reflection: What obstacles keep me from walking the path I know God has laid before me?

Why You Feel Empty Despite Having God’s Spirit Within

Feb 19, 2026

Many believers walk through life feeling spiritually exhausted and empty despite knowing that God’s Holy Spirit dwells within. Why do we struggle to access God’s strength? How can we learn to trust?

“Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” —Ephesians 3:20-21

Last week, during my observation of the birds, I was drawn into thinking about the resistance that builds strength in their wings. It made me wonder about the invisible force that keeps the birds aloft. And how strong wings help them fight gravity (which keeps me tethered to the earth) and guide them around obstacles.

There is power in their wings they never knew was there. They only needed to be pushed out of the nest to begin harnessing that power.

Empty

I often wonder if believers live in a vacuum. Endless social media scrolling leaves us thirsty for human interaction. Negative news reels remind us that the world is falling apart. Even in the day to day, hum-drum life, monotony can make us feel depleted. Why do we always feel so empty?

We give and give and give to those around us without ever stopping to fill our own cup. Maybe we have time to squeeze in a Bible study here and there. A quick glance at the verse for the day. But it’s never enough to feel full. To leave the table patting our bellies—thanking God for all he has given. We’re always left wanting.

Yet, the birds teach us a powerful lesson. The strength is there. Within us. But, in order to access it, we have to fall out of the nest.

Falling Fast

Falling is not fun. Have you had that dream where you’re falling, and you wake up with your heart racing like you’ve run a 100 yard sprint? Or what about when you trip and fall in real life? In front of a group of people? They look at you like you’ve grown two heads because you did what they hoped they’d never do. (Yes, it’s happened to me, too.)

Falling can be embarrassing when you are supposed to already know how to walk. No one laughs at a toddler when they fall down. At my age, I’ve had years of practice walking. But one stumble and I find myself immobile, hurt, and humiliated.

It’s the same in my spiritual life. I’ve been a believer for many years, but when I stumble in my walk with the Lord, when I fall flat on my face, no one around me tells me it’s normal. Instead of helping me up, they judge. Instead of being concerned, they laugh. Instead of guiding me toward truth, they question my faith. This is the pain no one wants to talk about.

Just like the birds, falling is a part of the process of learning to trust God. Peter understood this process all too well. Matthew 14:22-33 tells the story. One night the disciples were in a boat on the sea. They saw a man walking on the water. It was Jesus. In Peter’s excitement, he wanted to walk on the water with him. But the moment he stepped out of the boat and saw the wind, he got scared and started sinking.

Peter was bold in his decision to get out of the boat. In the middle of a storm. With waves pounding and the boat tumbling up and down. His faith may have faltered, but Jesus was there to pick him up.

Like the mama bird swooping down to catch the falling, flailing baby bird. Jesus reaches out his hand to us.

But we have to take hold of it.

The Lesson

The lesson for the birds, for Peter, for us is this—the power is available, but we have to access it. The bird has power in its wings to beat the air and make gravity its slave. Peter had the power to walk on the water if he had kept his eyes on Jesus instead of his surroundings. And we have the power of the Holy Spirit living within us to overcome the obstacles that life throws in our path.

In Ephesians 3:16, Paul prays for believers to be strengthened with power through God’s indwelling Spirit. Then, in verse 20 he tells us that this power is at work within us. The power described is an explosive power. It’s the root of our word for dynamite. It’s a power that can move mountains.

Imagine! The power that split seas and graves—the power that raised Jesus from death—dwells within us.

Yet, we walk around like deflated balloons. Dragging the ground. Why?

We’ve taken our eyes off the Savior. We’ve missed the boat altogether.

Think about that bird. Instead of flying, what if it decided to walk everywhere it went? In choosing to ignore the power waiting in its wings, the bird misses the beauty of seeing the world from the heights. It never knows the freedom of soaring on the wind.

So how does this play out in my own life? How can I live in the fullness of God’s power? How can I soar?

There is an invisible force—the power of God. I know it’s there. So why does it still feel so far away? That’s where we’ll pick up next week.

Find hope in the journey with me