Holding Two Truths - Make it Make Sense

“Then God looked over all he had made, and he saw that it was very good! And evening passed and morning came, marking the sixth day.” (Genesis 1:31, NLT)

“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” (Psalm 34:18, NLT)

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever. And the one sitting on the throne said, ‘Look, I am making everything new!’ And then he said to me, ‘Write this down, for what I tell you is trustworthy and true.’” (Revelation 21:4-5, NLT)

The doctor in the Children’s Emergency Department asked us to step into another room. That should have been my first clue that something was seriously wrong with our kindergartner. My husband and I sat down while the doctor pulled up an image from Clara’s recent CT scan. Pointing to the picture, he said, “The good news is that Clara’s appendix and spleen are fine. The bad news is that her kidney is encased in an eggplant-sized tumor that has ruptured.”

Our world stopped, and our tears started. The doctor kept talking, delivering facts in calm, measured tones. He reassured us she would be fine (she was, and she is), and he promised the care would be excellent (it was).

Over the next nine months, our world narrowed into survival. Clara’s needs, her siblings’ emotions, and the disease-driven schedule set the pace of our days until, at last, treatment was complete and she was given the beautiful acronym: NED—no evidence of disease.

Once there was time to breathe, I began to process what had happened. Deep in my gut, something was unsettled. For nearly a year I had carried two truths that didn’t seem to belong together.

First: I knew God is good. The very first thing He tells us about Himself in Scripture is just that. In creation, as He formed the world, He repeated over and over that what He made was good. It was a declaration not only about creation, but also about Himself. It takes a good God to make good things.

Second: my daughter had faced cancer. I had watched a disease of multiplying cells attempt to destroy her, and I had seen the side effects of a poisonous cure wreak havoc on her small body.

Like two piano keys side by side, struck again and again without harmony, these truths created dissonance in my soul. God is good. And cancer is real. How could both be true?

We all have chapters in our stories that sound painfully out of tune. I know I’m not the only one who has felt the ache of that dissonance. And yet—hear me out—learning to sit in that space isn’t always a bad thing.

Too often we can’t tolerate discomfort. We long for resolution. We fast forward the scary scene, flip to the last chapter, binge-watch the whole series just to escape the tension. But part of spiritual maturity is learning the patience of living with the unresolved. It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s also one of the most formative places God meets us.

That means sitting with it. Holding one hand open with God’s character, and the other with your pain, and lifting them both up to Him. Letting the tears fall. Letting the grief be real. Trusting that even when nothing makes sense, He is not absent.

It’s important to know that dissonance is not the end of the song. And though we can’t hear it yet, God promises a day when every note will resolve into harmony.

Reflection: Try to practice holding your hard situation and God’s good character at the same time. Notice how you feel; allow yourself to be curious. Are you anxious? Thankful? Tense? Cautious? Frustrated? In prayer, offer up your feelings to God and ask Him to grant you peace within your struggle and the courage to sit with discomfort.

Prayer:

Lord, you are good and this situation is hard. Thank you for being a safe place for me to be vulnerable about my pain, and thank you for your comforter who guides me in the way of peace. (John 14:26-27)