grace given me

There’s a tension I’ve been noticing lately—one I don’t think we talk about enough. The kind where two things feel true at the same time. 

We can be grieving something, or someone, we’ve lost and still be taking steps forward. We can feel disappointment in what didn’t happen and still carry hope for what could. We can love someone and still not like how they’re showing up right now. We can be grateful for where we came from and still be working through things it shaped in us. We can feel secure in who we are and still wrestle with insecurity. We can be responsible with our money and still carry a scarcity mindset. 

I see it everywhere now that my eyes have been opened to it. Two things, held at once.

We live in a world that constantly asks us to choose. Success or rest. Growth or contentment. Strength or softness. Strategy or intuition. Ambition or presence. But what if both can be true?

As humans, we feel an internal pressure to land somewhere definitive. To simplify. We want clean answers: Am I doing enough, or am I doing too much? Should I push harder, or pull back? Is this working, or is it time to pivot? But the truth is, the most meaningful seasons of life are rarely that binary. You can feel deeply grateful for where you are and still be hungry for more. You can be confident in your calling and uncertain about your next step. You can be building something beautiful and feel stretched in the process. That doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong. It means you’re in it.

There’s a quiet strength in learning to hold tension. When you allow both things to be true, you gain access to a fuller perspective.

The more I walk with the Lord, the more I’m realizing he often doesn’t operate in the kind of either/or thinking we do. All throughout scripture, we see this tension held. Paul writes in Philippians: “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances… I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.” (Philippians 4:11–12) Contentment wasn’t the absence of desire. It was the presence of trust. At the same time, Paul was constantly moving, building, and going where God called him next. Content and called forward.

David—a man after God’s own heart—wrote psalms that held both deep trust and deep longing in the same breath. “The Lord is my shepherd; I lack nothing.” (Psalm 23:1) “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.” (Psalm 42:1) Lack nothing… and still longing. Both can be true.

As Tim Keller put it, “we are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” This is the tension of the gospel itself. Not one or the other—both, at the same time.

Jesus himself, in his humanity, held both surrender and sorrow. In the garden of Gethsemane, he prayed: “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) He named his desire and surrendered at the same time. Honesty and obedience. Grief and trust. If Jesus didn’t rush to resolve the tension, maybe we don’t have to either. What if instead of believing it has to be one or the other, we simply asked, “What is God doing in both?”

If you’ve been feeling that tension lately—like your heart is holding two seemingly opposite things—you’re not alone. You’re not doing it wrong. You might just be in a place where God is expanding your capacity. To grow in ways that don’t fit into simple categories or easy answers. Because God is not confused by what feels conflicting to you. Sometimes it’s in holding both that God does his deepest work. Both can be true. And God is in the midst of it all with you.

Lord, you are a good, good Father. Thank you for opening my eyes to the nuance in things. Help me not to narrow everything into one way or another. Soften my heart. Give me the courage and wisdom to hold both with grace. Teach me to trust that you are present in both. Remind me that you are working in ways I can’t always see. Thank you that you are always with me, and always for me. Amen.