There are seasons in life when the pain feels so close, so heavy, it’s hard to see anything else. Loss, betrayal, disappointment—these are real. They leave scars, sometimes ones you can still feel years later. But I’ve learned there’s a difference between what’s true and what’s the truth. And if you can get hold of that difference, it’ll change how you walk through even your hardest days.
What’s true is what’s right in front of us: the diagnosis on the paper, the empty seat at the table, the betrayal that still stings. These are the facts, and I’d never ask you to pretend they don’t matter. But truth, real truth, runs deeper than whatever today’s headlines are shouting at your heart. Truth is anchored in the character of God, unchanging, unshakable, eternal.
Seeing the difference isn’t about denial. It’s not plastering on a smile or claiming you’re “blessed and highly favored” when your world feels like it’s coming apart. It’s about learning to look your pain in the eye and then lifting your gaze just a little higher to the God who is with you in it. Take David, for example. When his son Absalom turned against him and the world he knew crumbled, that pain was real. David wasn’t immune to heartbreak or humiliation. But even then, he could write, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” He didn’t deny the valley or the shadows; he just refused to believe they were the whole story. He trusted that God’s presence meant something, even in the dark.
Or Joseph was betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, and forgotten in prison. For years, what was true looked nothing like the dreams God had given him. But looking back, Joseph could say, “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.” He wasn’t rewriting history. He was seeing it through the lens of a God who redeems even the messiest chapters. Maybe you’re walking through something right now that makes you question everything you thought you knew about God’s goodness. The bills pile up, the ministry stalls and the prayers seem unanswered. Scripture never tells us to ignore those things. Instead, it invites us to believe that God is present and working, even when we can’t see how. Romans 8:28 isn’t just a coffee mug verse. It’s a lifeline: “All things work together for good to them that love God.” Not some things. All things. But if you keep staring at the wound, you’ll stay stuck in the pain. Bitterness and regret make a prison out of yesterday. But God invites us to something better—to see ourselves as He sees us: beloved, redeemed, and still in process. Your past doesn’t have the final word. Your present isn’t your prison. And your God isn’t finished with you yet. “He which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.” He doesn’t stop halfway.
Remember Abraham? God promised him a son despite all the evidence suggesting it was impossible. Year after year, nothing changed—except Abraham’s faith grew. When the son finally came, and then God asked for him back, Abraham believed that God could even raise the dead if He had to. That’s faith not in the absence of the valley, but in the presence of the Shepherd.
Faith isn’t closing your eyes to reality. It’s seeing reality and then remembering who God is. It’s standing in the fire and believing you won’t be burned because God is with you. It’s knowing that whatever anyone else meant for harm, God will use it for good. Your wounds, your regrets, or your failures do not define you. You are defined by God’s love and His call on your life.
Hope isn’t for the naïve. It’s for the battle-worn, the tired, the people who have wept and wondered if they’ll ever be whole again. Hope sees the brokenness but believes in healing. It looks at the grave and waits for resurrection. It weeps at the cross but holds on to the empty tomb. Hope never ignores pain. It just refuses to give pain the final say.
When everything else is stripped away, here’s what remains: God’s love. The deepest truth you’ll ever know is that you are loved right now, right here, in the middle of the mess. You may not see the whole picture, but the Artist’s hand is still at work, painting something beautiful out of the pieces.
Today, let yourself see beyond what’s true and reach for the truth. Hold on to God’s promises even when your heart is tired. Trust that your story isn’t over yet. The brush is still moving. And the God who started a good work in you is faithful to finish it. That’s the truth that changes everything.