Even When It’s Hard to Believe
This reflection was originally published on Medium under the “Even Here” publication.
Read it there → Even Here
There are days when belief comes easy—when the worship song resonates deeply, when Scripture feels alive, when the prayers are filled with quiet assurance.
And then there are days when belief feels like grasping at smoke.
If I'm honest, I don’t always find it easy to believe in God. Not when I read the news. Not when I see the pain that people carry. Not when prayers seem to go unanswered and grief feels like a long silence. I’ve read the arguments against God. I’ve felt the sting of disappointment with Him. And I’ve wrestled with questions that don’t have easy answers.
So why do I still believe? Why do I still hope?
Because I’ve Encountered Grace in Ways I Can’t Unsee
There have been moments—unexpected, gentle, and personal—when I’ve known I was held. A peace that settled in chaos. A word spoken through someone at just the right time. A silence that wasn't empty, but full.
You can’t measure these moments or use them to win debates. But once you’ve tasted something real, it stays with you.
And you begin to recognize His presence in the quiet, the ordinary, the broken places.
“Taste and see that the Lord is good.” — Psalm 34:8
Because Jesus Is Unlike Anyone I’ve Ever Known
I don’t always know how to explain Christianity, but I keep coming back to Jesus. His life undoes me. The way He dignified the outcast, confronted the proud, wept at death, forgave His killers. It is not just a beautiful story—it’s a story that changes people. It changed history. And it keeps changing me.
Even those with doubts about the Church or doctrine find in Jesus someone worth trusting.
“Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” — John 6:68
That’s it. I’ve looked. I’ve wandered. But at the end of the day, I still find myself drawn back to Him.
Because I Need a Hope That Doesn’t Depend on Me
Life is uncertain. People fail. I fail. But the Christian hope is not rooted in my circumstances or performance—it’s rooted in a God who suffers with us, who overcomes death, who promises to make all things new.
Even when everything feels fragile, that hope holds.
It doesn’t erase the pain. It doesn’t answer all the questions. But it tells me the story isn't over.
Because Faith Is Not the Absence of Doubt
If you’ve ever felt guilty for doubting, let me say this plainly: doubt is not the enemy of faith. In fact, many of us believe with a limp.
Faith is not certainty—it’s trust. It’s saying, “I don’t understand, but I’m staying.”
It’s a relationship, not a contract. A journey, not a formula.
“I believe; help my unbelief.” — Mark 9:24
Sometimes, all I can do is whisper. And I think He honours that prayer.
Because the Longing in My Heart Points Me Home
Even when I question God, I never stop longing for Him.
There’s a homesickness in me for beauty, justice, love that lasts, a world made right. The Christian story names that ache. It says we were made for more.
That even our doubts are evidence of a deeper hope—that all of this means something, and that Someone is coming to restore it all.
So I Keep Holding On
I don’t write this as someone who has it all figured out. I write as a fellow sojourner, still learning to walk by faith, still wrestling, still holding the tension between the seen and unseen.
But I believe—yes, still—that God is not intimidated by our doubts. He meets us in them.
He invites us to bring our questions, our grief, our tired faith.
And somehow, in the mystery of it all, we find that He was never far.
So if you’re struggling to believe, you’re not alone.
And maybe belief doesn’t have to start with certainty—maybe it begins with the courage to hope.
💬 If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts. You can follow along as I reflect, wrestle, and write about faith in the everyday — the in-between places where God still meets us.