I’ll never forget the text that started everything.

“Do you have time to talk tomorrow? I have some icky news”

I was driving up a hill when she called. The conversation is a blur, but I learned that in the coming days she was headed into the hospital for a procedure. A lump had been found in her ovary. The length of the surgery would be determined by what was uncovered.

I remember where I was in my kitchen when I heard the diagnosis mid surgery: ovarian cancer.

It was pouring that night as I drove to the hospital. I’d gone to sit with her husband as he waited for the surgery to end. When the doctor finally appeared, I sat furiously writing notes as we heard the details. I wrote the words “optimistic that she’ll be in the 49% of women who make it past five years.”

That was five years ago this month.

My friend died 17 months ago, and the last five years have been weighty and hard.

Hard, not just because of ovarian cancer and what it stole, but for a lot of reasons. We went through COVID, and we moved. One of my kids moved to college. And in the middle of it all, I wrestled with insecurity and my faith in a good God.

Eighteen months ago, I stopped writing about my process because I recognized something important. Writing while in the midst of the hard invites others to offer advice and insights (all with excellent intentions.) Yet, I didn’t want another person’s wisdom. I wasn’t looking for someone else’s opinion of my value or their view on my life or the assurance that God is good. I didn’t want a friend to share the one verse that should wipe my doubts away. What I wanted was to settle this with God.

I know the Bible says God is good. But I wanted to know that he was good. Know it in my core.

So, I dug in. I read books on grief, books about church and books about prayer. I researched. I listened to sermons and podcasts. I made playlists. The whole time I was searching for something; the information, the practice, the habit that would help me make sense of it all.

Each October I’d reread Remember God because Annie F. Downs had succinctly captured my big wrestling. If God is good and kind, why doesn’t my life feel like I think it should?

Oh, and I prayed. And journaled. And read the Bible.

Somehow, through all of it, I’ve come out of the wrestling with a knowing. A knowing that is rooted in my core. It’s a knowing that is for me but also available to you. Yet it is something that is not told to you or transferred via written word. It’s a knowing that comes from a personal relationship with God.

I can tell you the things that I have learned, and perhaps they may make an impact for a season. But nothing is greater than listening to the One who made you.

But the journey is worth it. God wants us to seek him; to seek His face and to spend time with Him. I believe He wants us to ask the hard questions. He is not afraid of what we’ll find.

For what it’s worth, here are my thoughts on the process:

It’s important to wrestle with God.

There is no timeline for wrestling with God, but the wrestling is important. It shouldn’t be avoided or glossed over. We should not band aid a wrestling with God by quoting pithy verses from the Bible. God doesn’t want us to choose Him lightly. He wants us ALL IN. If that means asking questions, then ask them. If it means wrestling with believing in scripture or His goodness, or whatever it may be, then wrestle.

Wrestling isn’t always pretty and it doesn’t feel good in the process. When Jacob wrestled with God, he walked away with a limp.

I am not the same person I was before I began this wrestling. I am more guarded with my time and who I chose to follow. I have a better grasp of what matters to me and what is worthy of investment.

Even though wrestling is valuable and important, you can’t always decide when and where to wrestle with God. Because:

There is no perfect recipe for how to do life with God.

There is no “one size fits all” on quiet time or Bible study. There is no formula on how to hear from God or how to understand Him. God does not follow our expectations. This is not because he’s trying to trick us or manipulate us or keep us in the dark. It’s because God knows that when we create a formula, we’re trying to be the one in control. And that’s US making an idol of what WE think “God” should be.

Five years ago, before the text that started everything, I thought I had figured out the rhythm of life with God. I read the Bible, valued my faith and family, and could speak easily of the goodness of God. I wasn’t perfect…my life wasn’t perfect, but I had a handle on how to do life with God. Yet in all of my packaged-up rhythms, I was missing something. I was missing the sheer “godness” of God.

As Matthew Barrett describes in None Greater, my doctrine had “no sheer cliffs, dizzying heights or fathomless abyss.” I had a faith that was contained, easily managed and talked about and it didn’t disrupt my day to day with awe or wonder. When I met with God, there was no falling on my face in worship. I could speak of His goodness, but I was not overcome by it.

What I learned in my wrestling is that God is greater and more mysterious than I can ever imagine. I can never fully know all there is to know about Him because I am created by Him, not His creator. I will never comprehend his infinitude because all that I know is finite. And I cannot package up faith into an easy to follow five step process. Nor do I want to. I have to remember that God is God and I am not. However:

How we approach God matters.

The state of my heart matters. Jesus modeled a life with God that I continue to learn from daily. Jesus lived in community. He prayed frequently. He moved away from crowds and fame and into solitude. Jesus lived in humility and service. When I think of the faith leaders I most admire, they reflect so many of those same things: humility, frequent solitude and prayer. Lives filled with service.

But there is no prescribed combination of humility, prayer, solitude and service that can manufacture a relationship with God. Because once again, a desire to create a prescription reflects more of a desire to control and neglects a submission to a great God worthy of trust.

My journey with God has not ended. I do NOT know all there is to know. And I am forgetful by nature and will not remember all that God has already done. I may lose my sense of awe for a season and then I hope that I remember it again. There will be new seasons of wrestling. I know this. Yet I am so grateful for all that God has taught me.

After I’d written this post I listened to a message from a pastor I respect and admire. One who thoughtfully and diligently engages with scripture. He is both humble and incredibly wise. His words on a season of wrestling are far more impactful than anything I could write. I’d encourage you to listen to what he says about a season of wrestling in this message. Begin at minute 39:35 until the end.