A Delicate Faith, A Steady God

Janus, Roman god of endings and beginnings

The beginning of a new year invites us to pause. We look ahead with questions, hopes, and sometimes a quiet unease. We glance back at the year behind us and recognize how much has already changed, even if we did not realize it at the time.

This year, looking forward carries a different weight for me. A recent diagnosis of breast cancer determined a new path before me in 2026. This month I will have a lumpectomy, followed sometime later by radiation. The months ahead hold appointments, treatments, and uncertainties that were not part of my plan. It is a road I did not choose, but one I now walk.

When I shared the news with my husband, he wondered if I had asked God, “Why me?” His question caught me off guard. I realized I had never considered asking it. Instead, the words that surfaced within me were “Why not me?” Not spoken with anger or resignation. Not as a challenge to God. But as a recognition that suffering does not skip over the faithful. It does not carefully select its recipients. It finds us where we are, in a world that is beautiful and broken, tender and wounded all at once.

As I step into this new year, my faith, like my body, also seems to be asking for attention. I feel as if a Band-Aid has been ripped off, leaving my faith exposed to the elements. It is not weaker than it was before. But it is tender. Fr. Richard Rohr writes that we don't "handle" suffering; rather, it "handles us," forcing us to surrender and find true meaning in vulnerability and solidarity with the wounded Christ. We shall see if I manage to get there.

This diagnosis has revealed to me that my faith is not always composed or confident. Sometimes it aches. Sometimes it shows up without any answers. And perhaps this too is faithfulness. Right now, my prayers are neither polished nor confident. Mostly silent, wordless, my prayer life consists of simply sitting in God’s presence and allowing God to see me as I am.

As the world enters another year marked by division, uncertainty, and weariness, I find myself asking what lies ahead for all of us. The headlines are heavy. The ground beneath our feet is unsteady. Yet even here, God’s love does not fracture under the strain, nor does Divine Presence withdraw from the world when life gets hard.

So, I enter this new year not with resolutions but with intention. To show up as I am. To listen to what my faith is trying to say to me in this season of my life. To graciously accept care from others and extend grace to those whose advice or comments can sometimes be a burden, despite their honest desire to be helpful. Most of all, to trust that God is on this journey with me.

Faith does not promise an easy road. It promises companionship. And for now, that is enough.