When BELIEVE is Crooked

We’ve been doing some renovations around our house lately.

And as anyone who has lived through renovations knows, things get moved. Furniture shifts. Pictures come down. Dust gets everywhere. And sometimes, when everything is put back together, you notice something isn’t quite where it used to be.

For us, it was BELIEVE.

Above the doorway in our dining room, we have a sign that simply says Believe. After some of the work was finished, I looked up and noticed the sign was crooked.

Crooked.

By definition, it means not straight—bent or out of its normal position.

And for some reason, that definition stayed with me.

Because I’ve had seasons when that is exactly how I would describe my belief.

Not gone.

Not abandoned.

Just… out of its normal position.

Life had happened.

Things I prayed for didn’t happen the way I prayed they would. Things I felt certain about suddenly required more wrestling. There were moments when what I knew about God and what I was experiencing in front of me were difficult to reconcile.

My belief wasn’t gone.

It was crooked.

And during this month of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness, I can’t help but think about one of the seasons when my belief was tested in ways I never expected.

Pregnancy and infant loss did that to me.

There were prayers I desperately wanted answered differently. There were things I believed for that didn’t come to pass the way I hoped. There were moments when I had to reconcile believing that God was good while simultaneously experiencing something that hurt more than I could put into words.

I still believed in God.

I just didn’t always understand Him.

I still believed He was good.

But there were moments when I wrestled with what good meant in the middle of grief.

I still believed He was with me.

Even during moments when I couldn’t feel Him.

My belief had been bumped out of its familiar position.

And pregnancy and infant loss isn’t the only season that has done that.

There have been other disappointments. Other unanswered prayers. Other moments of uncertainty. Other situations where I thought I knew how the story should go, only to watch it unfold differently.

Maybe you’ve had those seasons too.

Maybe it was loss.

Maybe it was a diagnosis.

A relationship.

A closed door.

A dream that hasn’t happened yet.

A prayer you’ve been praying for years.

Or simply a season of life that looks nothing like you imagined it would.

Sometimes life bumps into what we believe, and suddenly it doesn’t sit quite as straight anymore.

But here’s what struck me as I looked at that sign:

Even crooked, it still said BELIEVE.

Its position had changed.

The message hadn’t.

There’s a moment in Scripture when a father desperately seeking healing for his son says to Jesus:

“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
—Mark 9:24

I’ve always loved the honesty of that.

I believe. And I’m struggling.

Both can be true.

Faith doesn’t require us to pretend that devastating things don’t hurt. It doesn’t mean we never question. And it doesn’t mean every experience will fit neatly into our understanding of who God is.

Sometimes faith is choosing to keep believing while we wrestle.

And I’ve realized that belief isn’t only about what I believe about God.

It’s also about what I’m still willing to believe for.

Because when you’ve deeply believed for something and it didn’t happen, it can feel safer not to hope quite so boldly the next time.

It can feel safer not to dream too much.

Not to get too excited.

Not to pray the big prayer.

Because you know now that believing for something doesn’t guarantee it will happen exactly the way you want it to.

And yet…

I still believe.

There are still things I dream of.

There are still things I’m praying for.

There are still things I believe God for.

There are things I haven’t seen yet that I still believe are possible.

There are parts of my story that are still being written.

Loss didn’t take away my ability to hope. Disappointment hasn’t taken away my ability to dream. And the prayers that were answered differently than I wanted haven’t stopped me from praying new ones.

Maybe my belief looks different now.

Maybe it’s a little more weathered.

Maybe it’s more acquainted with grief and disappointment.

Maybe there are places where it’s a little more cautious than it used to be.

Maybe it’s crooked.

But it’s still belief.

As I looked at that crooked sign, I realized I could straighten it.

It would probably take all of a few seconds.

But part of me almost doesn’t want to.

Because maybe I need the reminder.

My testimony isn’t that I’ve walked through life with perfectly straight belief.

It isn’t that I’ve never questioned God.

It isn’t that I’ve understood everything He has allowed.

And it certainly isn’t that every prayer I’ve prayed has received the answer I wanted.

My testimony is that there have been moments when life has knocked my belief sideways.

Moments when grief changed it.

Moments when disappointment challenged it.

Moments when I wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile what I believed with what I was living.

And I still believe.

I still dream.

I still hope.

I still pray.

And through every crooked season, God has remained steady.

So, in this month when I remember the babies I carried, loved, dreamed for and had to say goodbye to far too soon, I also remember the faith that carried me through.

Not perfect faith.

Not unquestioning faith.

Sometimes, not even straight faith.

But faith that remained.

Maybe crooked belief isn’t something we need to hide or hurry to straighten.

Maybe sometimes it’s evidence that we’ve been through something that changed us—and somehow, we’re still here believing.

Because even crooked, the sign above my door still says the same thing.

And after everything, so does my heart:

BELIEVE.

P.S. If your belief feels crooked right now, you don’t have to straighten it before bringing it to God. He can meet you in the questions, the grief, the disappointment, and the uncertainty. Even there, you are not alone.

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