Some Nights Are Harder Than Others
One of the hardest parts of being a Christian is that hope almost feels like a responsibility.
People tell you to trust God.
To surrender.
To pray.
To wait patiently.
To believe that He is working, even when you cannot see it.
And I believe all of that.
I truly do.
But sometimes I wonder if we’ve accidentally made it seem like Christians aren’t allowed to struggle.
As if questioning means you’re not trusting.
As if feeling tired means your faith isn’t strong enough.
As if hoping for something for a long time should somehow become easier with every passing year.
It doesn’t.
Some nights are simply harder than others.
During the day, it’s easier.
There is work.
Friends.
Family.
A never-ending to-do list.
Life is loud enough to distract you.
But then the evening comes.
You close the front door.
The apartment is quiet.
You make dinner for one.
You celebrate good news alone.
You carry disappointing news alone.
You realize there is no one waiting to ask how your day was.
No one to tell the little stories to.
No one to plan tomorrow with.
And without even realizing it, your heart whispers the same question it whispered yesterday:
“Lord… when will it be my turn?”
Not because I envy anyone.
Not because I think marriage would solve every problem.
But because my heart longs to share this life with someone.
Lately, I’ve also been thinking about how loud the internet has become.
Every day there seems to be another video saying,
“God wanted you to see this.”
“Your spouse is closer than you think.”
“This is your confirmation.”
“God is trying to tell you something.”
Maybe those videos encourage someone.
But sometimes…
they leave me feeling more confused than comforted.
Because I don’t want an algorithm telling me what God is saying.
I want God to speak for Himself.
I don’t want to mistake my longing for His voice.
And I don’t want to spend my life trying to decode every coincidence as if faith were a puzzle.
When I read the Bible, I notice something comforting.
David asked questions.
Job asked questions.
Martha asked questions.
None of them were rejected because they were honest.
Maybe faith isn’t pretending we never struggle.
Maybe faith is bringing our questions to God instead of hiding them from Him.
So tonight, I don’t really have an answer.
I don’t have three steps to stronger faith.
I don’t have the perfect ending to this post.
I only know this:
Tomorrow morning, I will probably wake up and choose hope again.
Not because waiting has become easy.
But because God is still worthy of my trust, even on the nights that feel a little heavier than the rest.