Our pastor spoke this week about different stages of faith.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
So I came home, sat with it, prayed through it… and started looking at it through the lens of the trial we’ve been walking through.
Because faith doesn’t feel the same in every season.
And when you’re in the middle of something hard—
you start to recognize it in ways you never did before.
There are stages of faith we don’t always talk about openly…
Crisis Faith. Confident Faith. Contagious Faith.
I know crisis faith deeply.
Not the kind you read about in definitions—but the kind you live when God is the only one who can save you.
The kind that starts on day one of a diagnosis…
and for me, it has stretched to 944 days and counting.
Some days the crisis feels quieter.
Other days, the fear comes rushing back just as strong.
And yet—even in the Bible—this kind of faith is not unfamiliar.
“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1-2)
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1-2)
Even the faithful cried out in confusion and pain.
Because when you’re in a true crisis—
God isn’t just an option. He’s the only hope.
Then there’s Confident Faith.
And if I’m being honest…
for us, it hasn’t come after the crisis.
It’s been woven through it.
How can you be in a battle and still be confident?
Because I’ve seen His faithfulness.
I’ve seen His protection.
I’ve seen His mercy over and over again.
And deep in my soul, I know—
He will not fail me. He will not fail my family.
I believe He will heal my daughter—completely.
On earth, as He would in heaven.
That doesn’t mean fear doesn’t try to creep in.
Because it does.
The enemy knows exactly where to attack.
And fear is a powerful weapon.
But confident faith is choosing to fight back—
speaking truth over every lie,
scripture over every fear,
again and again… day and night.
“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for…” (Hebrews 11:1)
It’s believing the miracle is coming—
even when you can’t see it yet.
And then… there’s Contagious Faith.
The kind of faith people can see.
The kind that doesn’t make sense to the world—
because you should be crushed…
but somehow, you’re still standing.
Still trusting.
Still believing.
Still declaring that God is good.
It’s the faith you speak out loud—
in the middle of the storm,
in the middle of the diagnosis,
in the middle of the unknown.
It’s the faith that says:
God has us.
God did it.
God will do it.
And without even trying—
that kind of faith spreads.
Just like in Scripture—
where one encounter, one testimony, one act of obedience
caused others to believe.
I’ve learned this:
Faith isn’t always clean.
It isn’t always steady.
And it definitely isn’t always easy.
Sometimes it looks like tears and questions.
Sometimes it looks like bold declarations.
And sometimes…
it looks like both at the exact same time.
But all of it—
every question, every prayer, every ounce of trust—
counts as faith.
My prayer for you is this:
That you know it’s okay to be honest with God.
Not polished.
Not perfect.
Not filtered.
Real.
Yes—the Bible says, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.”
And yes, He is sovereign.
Yes, His will is greater than ours.
But that truth was never meant to silence your heart.
It was meant to remind you where your help comes from.
Because He is not just powerful—
He is compassionate.
He is merciful.
He is close to the brokenhearted.
So say the hard things.
Lay it all down.
The fear.
The anger.
The desperation.
The “I’m not okay with this” prayers.
He can handle it.
I have prayed boldly.
I have pleaded.
I have said, “Lord, I am not okay losing her. That is not an option to me.”
And while I know His will is what ultimately stands—
I also know His heart.
A loving Father who listens.
A God who sees.
A Savior who understands suffering.
So don’t hold back.
Bring Him everything—
the good, the bad, and the unbearable.
Lay it at the feet of Jesus.
Because even when your faith feels fragile…
even when your words feel messy…
He is still faithful.
He is still good.
And He is still holding you.