When Your Body Fails, Your Faith Doesn't Have To

In December of 2023, my kidneys failed.

Not slowly, not gradually — they just stopped doing what kidneys are supposed to do. End-stage renal disease. Four words that rewrote my entire life in an instant.

I was in the hospital when I received the diagnosis. My brother Mike had rushed me to the emergency room because I could barely walk from the kitchen table to the bathroom without becoming completely out of breath. I wasn't prepared for what the doctors would find. And sitting in that hospital bed, I thought: I did everything right. I tried to take care of myself. How did this happen? And underneath that question, a darker one: God, did you see this coming? And if you did — why didn't you stop it?

If you've received a life-altering diagnosis, you know those questions. They are not signs of weak faith. They are signs of a real, honest relationship with God — the kind where you don't pretend everything is fine when it isn't.

There is a version of Christianity that says if your faith is strong enough, you won't struggle. You won't doubt. You won't lie awake at 3 AM wondering if God is real and if He cares.

That version is a lie.

The Psalms are full of men and women who cried out to God in anguish. Job argued with God for chapters. Jeremiah called himself deceived. Even Jesus, in the garden of Gethsemane, asked if there was another way.

Honest faith is not the absence of struggle. It is the decision to keep showing up to God in the middle of the struggle.

When my body failed, I had a choice. I could let my faith fail with it — pull back from God, grow bitter, decide that prayer was pointless. Or I could do the harder, stranger, more terrifying thing: bring my broken body and my broken questions to God and refuse to let go until He blessed me.

I chose the second. Not because I was strong. Because I had nowhere else to go.

And what I found — slowly, imperfectly, over months of dialysis and waiting and home treatments and surgery — is that God does not require you to have it together before He shows up. He meets you in the mess. He sits with you in the uncertainty. He does not flinch at your anger or your fear or your "I don't understand this."

Notice what this verse does not say. It does not say "understand everything and then trust." It says trust instead of leaning on your own understanding. The faith God is asking for is not the faith that has all the answers. It is the faith that trusts Him even when the answers haven't come.

When your body is failing and your faith is wobbling, you need anchors — not answers, but anchors. Things to hold onto when the storm is too loud to think clearly.

Anchor 1: His character does not change with your circumstances.

God is good on the day of your diagnosis. He is good in the dialysis chair. He is good when the transplant list feels endless. His goodness is not contingent on your comfort. This is hard to hold onto — but it is true.

Anchor 2: Suffering is not evidence of abandonment.

In our culture, we tend to read suffering as a sign that something has gone wrong — that God has looked away, or that we've done something to deserve this. But Scripture tells a different story. Some of God's most beloved people suffered deeply. Suffering is not a sign of His absence. It can be the very place where He does His deepest work.

Anchor 3: This is not the end of your story.

Whatever your diagnosis, whatever your prognosis — you are not defined by it. Your story is not over. God is still writing it. And He is a God who specializes in resurrection — in bringing life out of the places that look most like death.

If your faith is shaking today, I want to offer you this prayer. You don't have to mean every word perfectly. Just bring what you have.

Lord, I don't understand this. My body is failing and I am scared and I don't know what comes next. But I am choosing — right now, in this moment — to trust that you are good. That you see me. That you have not abandoned me. I don't have the strength to hold on tight. So hold onto me. Amen.

That is enough. That is faith. And it is more than enough for God to work with.

You don't have to walk this alone. If you're looking for faith-based support through your chronic illness journey, let's talk. A free discovery call is the first step.