When the News Breaks Your Heart and Shakes Your Faith

Some days the news feels unbearable.

Not because it is simply “sad,” but because some stories seem to cut directly into the places we protect most fiercely. Stories involving children especially seem to undo me. Lately Ive read too many and theyve impacted those around me way too closely. Maybe because I am a mom. Maybe because motherhood changed the way I see the world forever. Suddenly every child becomes someone’s baby. Someone’s first kick. Someone’s bedtime prayer. Someone’s whole heart walking around outside of them.

And lately, I have struggled.

Not with whether God exists.

But with the questions.

God, where are You?

How could this happen?

Why do innocent children suffer?

Why does evil seem so loud?

I think sometimes in Christian circles we feel pressure to move quickly to answers. To tie pain up with a neat bow and say things like, “God has a plan.”

And while I know God is sovereign, there are moments where my heart isn’t ready for a tidy explanation. There are moments where I don’t need a lesson. I need permission to grieve.

I am finding comfort in realizing that Scripture never asks me to pretend pain doesn’t exist.

David wrote:

“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”

I love this because David doesn’t begin with confidence. He begins with confusion.

He begins with ache.

He begins with questions.

And God included those words in Scripture.

Not because doubt is failure, but because bringing our doubts to Him is still faith.

I keep coming back to another Psalm:

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” 

Not the Lord is close to those who have it together.

Not the Lord is close to those who understand everything.

Brokenhearted.

Crushed.

People who cannot make sense of what they are seeing.

People like me.

Maybe people like you.

I think of Jesus standing outside the tomb of Lazarus from what Ive read in the Bible. Jesus knew resurrection was coming. He knew how the story ended.

And still—

“Jesus wept.”

That verse matters more to me lately.

Because Jesus did not stand at suffering and explain it away.

He entered into it.

He felt it.

He cried.

Maybe faith isn’t always standing firmly and saying, “I understand God’s plan.”

Maybe sometimes faith looks like whispering:

“Lord, I don’t understand this at all, but I am still here.”

Maybe faith is opening our hands when we want to close our fists.

Maybe faith is simply refusing to walk away.

There are songs that have been carrying me lately because sometimes music reaches places within me that words can’t.

“Though You Slay Me” by Shane & Shane:

“Though You slay me, yet I will praise You.”

And “Praise You In This Storm” by Casting Crowns:

“I will lift my hands, for You are who You are no matter where I am.”

Not because everything is okay.

Not because tragedy makes sense.

But because God is still God even when my heart is struggling to keep up.

Today I don’t have profound answers.

I have tears.

I have questions.

I have prayers that feel unfinished.

But I also have this:

“When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.”

And maybe for today, that is enough.

If you are struggling too, if the weight of this world feels heavy and your faith feels shaky, you are not alone.

God is not frightened by your questions.

He can hold your heartbreak.

And perhaps mercy looks like this today:

Showing up with our hurting hearts and trusting that He is still there, even when we cannot feel Him. Even when we grieved, question and feel afraid.