Sometimes it seems easier to sweep it under the rug.

The heartache. The pain. The frustration. The overwhelm. The bad. The hard. The tears. The trial. The trouble. The struggle.

The tension.

It takes vulnerability to bring it into the light. To let God’s truth shine on it. To allow others to see our mess.

It’s much simpler to hide it under the surface, to bury it in the depths of our soul – to say that we’re fine. To fake it til we make it. To live a double life, where our inner and outer worlds don’t match up.

I’m not here to condemn. I’m here to encourage. I’m here to bring hope and stir up bravery. I’m here to give you permission to befriend your feelings in the presence of your faithful God.

Maybe one of the benefits of having two hands is that we can have adequate space to hold the tension.

Oppression and peace.

Anger and calm.

Exhaustion and hope.

Weariness and trust.

Tiredness and rest.

Doubt and faith.

Fear and love.

We’re told to clean up our messes. We’re taught to tidy up our faith. We’ve gotten so good at polishing the outside that our hearts have grown cold and calloused, our souls are buried beneath layers of shame.

What if there’s a better way? What if faith is messy and life is meant to be lived in the tension?

It takes courage to show up in God’s presence and in community with our whole, true selves.

In Mark 9:14-29, we find the father of a boy who had an evil spirit. I hope you’ll read the whole passage, but there’s an exchange that always gets me. The man said to Jesus, “But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” Jesus said, “‘If you can?’ Everything is possible for him who believes.” Immediately the father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” And Jesus did; He helped the man overcome his unbelief. Not with a lecture or a verse. He commanded the evil spirit to leave. Jesus met this father and son right where they were, in the tension. He restored. He delivered. He set them free.

In Matthew 8:1-4 and Mark 1:40-45, there’s a man with leprosy. He came to Jesus and begged on his knees, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” The man desired healing, but wasn’t fully confident that Jesus was willing (hence the “if”). Jesus’s response? He was filled with compassion, not frustration! He reached out his hand and touched the man. He said, “I am willing. Be clean!” Immediately he was cured – made clean.

God is willing. He heals us from the inside out. He invites us to draw near, and He welcomes the tension. He’s not afraid of our doubt or fear. He’s big enough to handle it; He’s more than enough.

Maybe we mock Him when we think He can’t handle it, when we aren’t authentic in His presence. When we try to present our best self and not our real self, when we let our false self live and our true self disappear beneath the pain and disappointment.

In the middle of Mark 5:21-43 and Luke 8:40-56, a bleeding woman appears. She’s been suffering for 12 long years, an outcast, unhealable. She attempted to get to Jesus under the radar. Unseen, she tried to sneak through the crowd. Just to touch the edge of His cloak. If she could just get close enough to Him.

His power went out. Jesus turned around. He kept looking to see who had this kind of faith.

The woman knew; she came and fell at His feet. Trembling in fear, she came out of hiding and told Him the whole truth. In the presence of all the people, she gave her testimony.

Jesus’s reaction is much different than what the Pharisees would have been, if given the chance. But Jesus spoke first. He called her “Daughter” – a radical redemption of her identity. He said it was her faith that healed her – her bloody, messy faith in Jesus had brought an end to her agony. Praise be to God! He told her to go in peace, to be fully free from her suffering.

His arms were open to her. He made space for her; He gave her a place at the table.

While all of this was happening, the 12 year-old girl died. The one who Jesus was on His way to see. They said to her father, “Your daughter is dead. Don’t bother the teacher anymore.” But Jesus wasn’t done healing and restoring. “Don’t be afraid; just believe, and she will be healed.”

The father had to hold both the reality that his daughter had died and the faith that Jesus could raise her back to life.

And He did. Jesus hasn’t forgotten about the girl. (And I still can’t wrap my head around the parallel… this girl was born around the time that this woman’s bleeding started, and it didn’t stop until the girl died… but Jesus wasn’t finished yet. Both daughters were loved and taken care of on the very same day.)

In Luke 18:1-8, Jesus tells the parable of the persistent widow, to show that we should always pray and never give up. Verse 8 says, “When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?”

Will He find faith on the earth when He returns?

He’s stretching my definition of faith in this season. Maybe it’s not black-and-white, perfectly packaged and unwavering. Maybe it’s okay that it’s both/and, messy and wild, a combination of all the things, a dance with the Father. Where faith is strengthened and feelings aren’t ignored.

Sometimes I need my plans to be interrupted, I need my schedule to be cleared, so I can cease striving and wrestle with the tension in my hands. To give space for all the feelings. To identify what I’ve let go untended for too long in my soul. To practice pausing in His presence. To learn from the light that shines in His Word.

There have been some tough circumstances in the last couple weeks, and on more than one occasion I’ve told myself and my family: “We can do hard things.” Why? Because God is always with us. Even in the tension.

This week’s song suggestions:

• Take Courage by Bethel Music (cover by Jon Wright)
• Jireh by Elevation Worship & Maverick City (cover by Jon Wright)