Trials and Blessings

I’ve been reflecting on how much I love to experiment. There is something deeply satisfying about hands-on experience—digging into things, tearing them apart to see what makes them tick, and learning through trial and error. I’ve always enjoyed the opportunity to tinker, and I have to say that my parents showed remarkable patience and kindness as I was growing up when my curiosity led me to dismantle something, then struggle to put it all back together. Appliances, however, were soon declared off-limits, as they explained that tampering with them could cause serious harm or render them useless. I suppose that growing up in a foreign country, far from the nearest city, meant replacing broken appliances wasn’t as simple as a quick trip to the store.

I’ve also been thinking about how I used to believe that experience was the best teacher. But lately, I’ve been reconsidering. Perhaps learning from other people’s experiences is even wiser. I can’t help but think of how many alcoholics might wish they had learned their important life lessons from others, rather than having to learn from the painful consequences of their own mistakes.

When I reflect on my own trials, I see that many of them have been direct consequences of my sins. Yet, when I recognize those sins and ask for God’s forgiveness, He redeems my struggles by turning them into valuable assets. The pain, discomfort, and even the consequences I face—like having to make amends—play a significant role in helping me let go of unhealthy habits and attitudes I’ve either tolerated or overlooked in myself.

But trials also come with a spiritual danger I know too well: the fleeting thought that God is somehow picking on me. I wonder if Job felt the same way when calamity after calamity struck him in rapid succession. Yet, in Job’s story—and in mine—trials are an invitation to draw closer to God. I love the imagery David uses in Psalm 17:8 when he writes, “Hide me under the shadow of Your wings.” Sometimes I try to picture God’s mighty wings, and I can see myself there, safe and protected.

My trials always reveal something I need to surrender—whether it’s my ambition, my expectations, or an attempt to control others. If I’m wrestling with something, it’s always a sign that I’m wrestling with my own will—usually trying to control something by using my willpower. Of course, that flies in the face of that part of the Lord’s Prayer that says, “Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10).

When God determines that something in my life needs to change, I begin to feel a holy discomfort. And if I persist in trying to take the easier, softer way, I risk missing out on the victorious life He offers. God always uses the gentlest hand possible—but the pressure will increase! I’m sure that David understood this well when he wrote, “It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I may learn Your statutes” (Psalm 119:71).

Isn’t it remarkable how trials drive us to God, regardless of our beliefs? Everyone, whether Christian or a non-believer, instinctively cries out for help when they’re overwhelmed. But the key is knowing where to turn for that help.

Recently, I’ve started studying the Bible with a close friend in recovery. We rise earlier than we’d like, seeking God’s guidance together. But what a blessing this has been! Through God’s Word, we’ve tapped into a power that sustains us throughout the day. Each trial becomes an opportunity to trust Him more deeply. And the words of Scripture linger with us, shaping our thoughts and actions. We’ve also both commented on how we look forward to studying God’s Word, and that reminds me of David’s longing when he wrote, “O God, You are my God; early will I seek You; my soul thirsts for You; my flesh longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water” (Psalm 63:1).

I’ve begun asking God for more opportunities to study His Word with others, particularly those in recovery. When we admit our need for His help daily, we open ourselves to His transforming power. His grace flows through us, touching everyone we encounter.

Any trial that drives me to God and His Word is ultimately for my good. With diligent study, I can echo the psalmist: “Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You” (Psalm 119:11).