Have you ever spent weeks, maybe even months, planning for something, only to have it fall flat? Something unexpected cuts into your perfectly laid plans, revealing just how little control you had over it all. You were left helpless and powerless.

As believers, when we face trials, heartaches, temptations, or other challenges in our life of faith, we often live as though we have to bear those burdens on our own. Yet God did not create us to live in isolation; He made us to live in community with others.

The journey we take through the wilderness of grief is necessary. There are important things that take place there. There are things we learn, experience, and walk through in that wilderness that will change and transform us into the likeness of our Savior. These lessons may be different for each person, depending on God’s specific redemptive purposes.

Fear feeds on forgetfulness. It thrives on our spiritual amnesia, our forgetting who God is and what He has done.

There are times we might want to live on a desert island. We might long for a break from those who frustrate or annoy us. But in the end, we would discover the same truth that we need other people. While we could find ways to feed and shelter ourselves, loneliness would be the one thing we couldn’t overcome. We all have a deep need to be known—a need that goes all the way back to the beginning.

As a parent, I am often in high demand. Both my children often need me at the exact same time. Inevitably, when I work with one child on a school assignment, the other child will call for me to come and help him with his work.

The Puritan preacher John Bunyan may be best known for his classic work The Pilgrim’s Progress, the world-famous allegory of the Christian life. Perhaps lesser known, but also significant for its value to the Christian faith, is his work titled A Treatise on the Fear of God.

We use the word patient to mean being able to accept delays or problems without getting annoyed. The King James Version uses the phrase suffereth long instead of patient. Long-suffering, in contrast to being patient, means patiently enduring lasting offense or hardship. It is suffering long for the sake of love.

We all have reasons to mourn. God created a community with whom we can share our sorrows through the life, death, and resurrection of His Son.

If you’ve ever played a Bible trivia game, you likely know that “Do not fear” is a frequent command found throughout Scripture. I haven’t personally counted, but some say it can be found hundreds of times. Yet there’s also another frequent command. This command stands in stark contrast: “Fear the Lord.”

Have you ever considered the good that comes from the afflictions you’ve endured? In the midst of suffering, hardship, and trials, many believers cling to the promise found in Romans 8:28: “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”

Our family once went on a tour of an old gold mine. As we walked deep into the cave, the guide explained what it had been like for the miners who toiled underground for weeks at a time, dependent on oil lanterns to light their way. He then turned off the lights, and we found ourselves in absolute darkness. I’ve never forgotten it. The darkness felt heavy, suffocating, despairing.

Throughout human history, we’ve invented ways to light up the darkness. From oil lamps to electricity to phones with flashlight functions, we illuminate our way when the sun goes down. We do this for good reason; without light, we cannot see to move around. We stumble and trip over things. The darkness makes us vulnerable.

While we may be averse to physical darkness, the Bible tells us that in our natural spiritual state, we prefer the darkness. It equates darkness with sin. It tells us that we are blind to the truth. In fact, we live in a spiritually dark world, filled with spiritually blind people—all who fear the light.

The prophet Isaiah described God’s people as blind to the darkness of their sin. After warning them of pending judgment for their disobedience—for glorying in darkness rather than light (Isa. 5:20)—he then promised hope. He told them of a day when light would burst into the world. “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone” (Isa. 9:2). This wouldn’t be just any light; this light would bring great joy.

This light would come in the form of a baby (Isa. 9:6). Jesus Christ is that Light who came into the world. The One who was there on that first day when God spoke and light cut into the darkness was the same One who came to open the eyes of the blind so that they could finally see the light of truth—so that they would see the true state of their hearts and of their desperate need for salvation. He came to shine a light on all the dark places of our hearts, revealing the sin hidden in its deepest recesses, so that we would repent and find forgiveness in Him. He came to bring life to all the dead spaces of our lives—to bring us the fullness of joy found only in the light of His presence: “I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness” (John 12:46).

When the guide on that cave tour turned the lights back on, it was shockingly bright compared to the utter darkness. That’s what Jesus is for us: the brilliant light of life who casts the darkness away. What a marvelous truth. The darkness cannot overcome the light of Christ (John 1:5).

This season, we celebrate the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. The Light of the World has come. Rejoice that Christ has healed your blindness; you no longer live in darkness.

What are you thankful for? Many countries and cultures have designated days set aside to express thanks for provision. For many, such gratitude is shown to a false god, or even to oneself. Often these days of thanksgiving occur around the time of the harvest. After all, it’s easy to give thanks when the fields are teeming with crops. It’s easy to give thanks when our lives are full—when the bank account is full, when the belly is full, when the womb is full.

But what about when life is hard and our hands are empty? What about when the news is dark and grim, and the future is bleak? That’s when it’s hard to give thanks, isn’t it?

The Apostle Paul instructed believers to give thanks in all things: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thess. 5:16–18). Whatever our circumstance, when life is easy and when it is hard, we are called to be thankful. And more, this thanksgiving is God’s will for us; it’s what He desires of us.

How? How do we give thanks in all things? How do we live a life of thanksgiving in a world that is fallen, where there is seemingly more sorrow and grief than joy and happiness?

To be clear, to “give thanks in all circumstances” doesn’t mean that we are saying that something is good that is in fact not good. Rather, we thank God because we know that He is at work in all things for our good. We know that He rules over the lost jobs, the broken relationships, and the sufferings we endure, for nothing happens outside His control. We know that He is a God of redemption, that He can make things that were once broken whole again. After all, we’ve seen His work in our own hearts. Through the power of the Spirit, God breathed new life into our spiritually dead hearts. He drew us to Himself and enabled us to see our need for Him. He made us alive in Christ; we are new creations. That’s why we trust that He will use all things—even the things that are not good—for our good and His glory.

In Philippians, Paul tells us to bring our requests to God—all those things we are anxious and worried about—wrapped in thanksgiving (Phil. 4:6). This means that when we pray about all the hard things, we give thanks as well. We ask the Lord to intervene, to help us in our circumstances, all the while giving thanks to Him for who He is and what He has done.

No matter what is happening in our lives or in the world around us, we know who our God is. He is a good God who does only what is good, as the psalmist writes: “You are good and do good” (Ps. 119:68). Let us give thanks to Him.

This is a life of thanksgiving.

Have you ever felt truly heard by someone else? Perhaps you shared with a friend about a struggle in your life, and rather than giving you a list of things to do to make your life better, your friend listened. You left that conversation feeling cared for, encouraged, known.

Proverbs teaches us to refrain from too much speech (Prov. 10:19; 17:27; 29:20). James tells us to “be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). In our sin nature, we are poor listeners. We want conversations to focus on us; we want the limelight. Even worse, we fail to listen to the Word of God. The prophet sums up our condition, calling us “foolish and senseless people, who have eyes, but see not, who have ears, but hear not” (Jer. 5:21).

Despite having ears that don’t hear, we have a God who listens to us. Our covenant-keeping God remembers His promises to His people and listens when they call out to Him (Ex. 2:24). He hears our cries for help (Ps. 18:6). God not only hears; He stepped into history and did something about it. He sent Jesus to live in this fallen world among a people who “may indeed hear but not understand” (Mark 4:12). In His coming, “the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them” (Matt. 11:4–5). He listened to and responded to the needs of His people. He heard deep into their hearts, going deeper than the layers of denial and shame (John 4:17–18). He listened to and obeyed the word of His Father. Our Savior then died the death we deserved. Through faith in who Christ is and what He has done, we are given ears to hear and understand. We can listen to, love, and obey God. And we can now listen to and love one another.

To listen like Jesus, we need a holy curiosity. We listen so that we might understand. To do so, we engage our entire bodies in the act of listening: our eyes are fixed on our friend; we nod our head; we lean forward to show interest; we make appropriate facial expressions in response to what is said. We ask questions for clarification because we want to learn more about what our friend is thinking or feeling. We don’t interrupt or construct our response while our friend talks. We then summarize what was said to show that we did indeed listen.

As we listen to one another, we do what Paul exhorts: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves” (Phil. 2:3), and “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up” (1 Thess. 5:11).

To listen to one another is a great gift. It encourages the heart. It shows that our friends are important, valued, and loved. When we listen, we reflect the One who always listens to us.