2 Corinthians 4:17 tells us, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”

What a powerful reminder. Our trials may feel heavy in the moment, but they are not permanent. They may feel overwhelming today, but they do not get the final word. Paul does not deny that trouble is real. He does not pretend that adversity is painless. He simply reminds us that compared to the glory God is producing, even our deepest struggles are temporary.

Praise God, our trials have an expiration date. The pain we face now will not last forever. The fear we battle now will not rule us forever. The uncertainty we are walking through now will not have the final say. When we stand strong in faith during seasons of adversity, God is doing something far greater than what we can see. He is strengthening our trust, refining our hearts, deepening our dependence, and producing eternal glory that far outweighs the weight of the moment.

When we look to Jesus and trust Him, even when we do not understand, we grow. We mature. We endure. We pass through the test with a stronger faith than we had before. Blessing does not always mean the storm disappears immediately. Sometimes blessing looks like peace in the middle of the storm. Sometimes it looks like strength when we thought we had none left. Sometimes it looks like courage to keep believing when every circumstance around us says to be afraid.

Our faith sets the course of our lives, and our attitude determines how much the boat rocks when the seas get rough. If fear is steering the boat, every wave feels like it is going to sink us. But when Jesus is on board, we can face the storm differently. We may still feel the wind. We may still see the waves. We may still hear the thunder. But we also know the One who has authority over it all.

All Jesus has to say is, “Peace, be still,” and the waters must obey. The same Savior who calmed the sea can calm our hearts. The same Lord who spoke to the storm can speak peace over our minds. The same Jesus who held Peter when he began to sink is still reaching for us when we feel like we are going under.

It is hard to believe that Sydney is already six days old. That number has been sitting with me in a powerful way, especially when I think about how God created the heavens and the earth in six days. In six days, God spoke light into darkness. He separated waters. He formed land. He filled the skies, the seas, and the earth with life. He made something beautiful, ordered, and purposeful out of what had once been without form.

And now, as Sydney reaches six days of life, I am reminded that the same God who created the universe is still creating, still sustaining, still breathing life, still working miracles, and still holding every detail in His hands.

Scripture tells us that with the Lord, a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. What feels painfully long to us is still held within His eternal perspective. What feels overwhelming in this moment is not overwhelming to Him. What feels impossible to us is not impossible to God.

When I think about what we are walking through with Sydney, I have to remind myself that in the scope of God’s master plan, this season is not the whole story. It is a chapter, but it is not the conclusion. It is a moment, but it is not the final testimony. It may feel huge right now because we are living it breath by breath, prayer by prayer, update by update, but God sees the beginning, the middle, and the end all at once.

And even in this hard place, I can see that God is accomplishing much. He is working in my life. He is working in Sydney’s life. He is working in the lives of the doctors, nurses, family members, friends, and even the other parents we come in contact with. Nothing is wasted in the hands of God. Even a NICU room can become holy ground when His presence is there.

I have found that when I talk with other parents who also have children in the NICU, there is an immediate connection. We may not know each other’s whole story, but we understand the fear. We understand the helplessness. We understand what it feels like to stare at monitors, wait for updates, listen for good news, and pray over a child we would trade places with in a heartbeat.

Many of them feel alone, and when they see that I am not carrying this the same way, they want to know why. That opens the door for me to tell them about Jesus.

I tell them that I am not strong enough to carry this on my own, but I do not have to. I can cast my cares on Jesus because He cares for me. I can bring Him my fear, my questions, my exhaustion, my guilt, my hopes, and my tears. I can place Sydney in His hands because His hands are stronger than mine.

I tell them that children are a gift from God. I tell them that He forms and knits them together in their mother’s womb. I tell them that their child is not forgotten, unnoticed, or unseen. I remind them that Jesus said the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. These little ones matter deeply to Him. They are precious in His sight. They are set apart, loved, and held by the One who created them.

And I remind them, and myself, that even in the face of fear, adversity, and uncertainty, we must not give up.

There are times when things may look like they are falling apart on the outside. The situation may look unstable. The news may feel discouraging. The waiting may become exhausting. The prayers may seem unanswered. But what we see on the outside is not all that God is doing. On the inside, He is making all things new. He is pouring out His Spirit. He is strengthening hearts. He is building faith. He is releasing mercy and grace in ways that transcend human understanding.

God brings new life into broken places. He brings peace into fearful places. He brings strength into weary places. He brings hope into places that feel hopeless. His mercy is not limited by hospital walls. His grace is not hindered by medical reports. His presence is not kept out of intensive care rooms. He is there. He is near. He is working.

The hard times we walk through now pale in comparison to the good that is coming. As followers of Christ and children of God, our hope is not only in what we can see today. Our hope is anchored in eternity. One day, every tear will be wiped away. Every pain will be healed. Every fear will be silenced. Every unanswered question will bow before the goodness and wisdom of God.

The things we are walking through now are temporary, but the things we cannot yet see will last forever. The pain is temporary. The uncertainty is temporary. The waiting is temporary. The fear is temporary. But God’s glory is eternal. His promises are eternal. His love is eternal. His kingdom is eternal.

So, if we are going to dwell on something, let us dwell on the faithfulness of God. Let us dwell on the promise of eternity with Christ. Let us dwell on the truth that His mercy is new every morning. Let us dwell on the goodness of a Savior who walks with us in the deep waters, holds us in the storm, and reminds us that this moment is not the end of the story.

We may not understand everything we are facing, but we can trust the One who holds everything together.

To Him be the glory, now and forever. Amen.