In the underbelly of this fallen world, where trouble grows like weeds in neglected soil, we live as pilgrims surrounded by pain. Disease, betrayal, political injustice, economic hardship, and sudden death have become familiar guests at our table. But for God’s children, these dark storms—no matter how relentless—do not have the final word. Trouble may be part of the landscape, but it is not the end of the journey. For every deep night of weeping, there is a morning of joy prepared by divine hands. And when the trouble is big—too big for human hands or understanding—it is not an indication of divine absence, but often a prelude to God’s most miraculous interventions.
Across generations, we’ve seen that no burden is ever permitted without a door of deliverance. The scripture whispers this truth from every page. Joseph was thrown into a pit by his own brothers. For years, he was a prisoner of both false accusation and forgotten dreams. But the pit was not his end—it was the passageway to Pharaoh’s palace. David, too, fled like a vagabond with oil on his head, chased by a king he would one day replace. Trouble was the furnace that refined their destinies.
God does not promise a life without fire, but He promises to be with us in the flames. He does not promise calm seas, but He walks on water in the middle of the storm. The Apostle Paul, writing from prison chains, declared in Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” That “all things” includes heartbreak, poverty, unemployment, sickness, political betrayal, and even death. They all serve God’s agenda in the life of His children.
Trouble is loud and often blinding. When the bank account is empty, when the diagnosis is terrifying, when your community turns its back, when the headlines scream chaos, it’s hard to see the solution. But the absence of immediate clarity is not the absence of a divine plan. A child in the womb sees only darkness, but that darkness is actually the beginning of life. So it is with God’s children—the dark seasons are often birthplaces of God’s next move.
It is in these moments that faith is most required. Not blind optimism, but the kind of gritty, grounded faith that stands on the testimonies of those who have walked this path before us. Faith is the lens that helps us see beyond the rubble. As Dr. Paul Enenche says, “Faith is not a denial of facts but a belief in the supremacy of truth over facts.” The fact may be that your marriage is falling apart, that your business has failed, or that your village has been forgotten by policymakers. But the truth is that God is not done. As long as breath remains, hope lives.
The Prophet T.B. Joshua once reminded his congregation, “Your situation is not your destination.” This is not mere religious encouragement; it is a spiritual law. Satan may author trouble, but he cannot dictate its outcome for the righteous. Our responsibility is not to solve every problem but to trust the One who sees the end from the beginning.
This fallen world is full of temporary scaffolds—money, fame, political positions—that promise stability but cannot withstand the weight of real crises. When these fail, only the eternal hand of God can hold us steady. We must teach our children that success is not the absence of trouble but the presence of unshakable faith. We must build communities not only with brick and mortar but with spiritual resilience. We must return to the altar, not just as a place of prayer but as a center for recalibrating vision in a blurry world.
In Nigeria, in America, in Gaza, in Ukraine, in the broken homes of Detroit and the flooded farms of Kogi, God has not abdicated His throne. His solutions do not always wear the robes we expect. Sometimes the answer is not escape but endurance. Not a detour, but a deeper trust. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me,” wrote David (Psalm 23:4). He did not say we will be airlifted over the valley but that we will be guided through it.
In moments of national failure, ethnic violence, and political shame, we must not only pray for solutions—we must become part of them. We are God’s boots on the ground. The healing of our nations will not come from bulletproof plans alone but from hearts made tender by divine wisdom. We must live as lights in the dark, as carriers of hope in a despairing world. That’s how we defeat trouble—not by avoiding it but by redeeming it.
If you are reading this from a prison cell, from a hospital bed, or from the ruins of a failed dream, hear this: the size of your trouble does not cancel God’s promises. The shaking you feel today may be the breaking of the old ground to plant new seeds. Lift your head. Speak to your soul like the Psalmist: “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Hope in God…” (Psalm 42:11). You may not see the way out yet, but there is One who already mapped the escape route. His name is Jesus. He doesn’t just remove trouble; He walks with you through it.
The devil may shout, but God writes the final sentence.
And it is always a good one.
– Inah Boniface Ocholi writes from Ayah – Igalamela/Odolu LGA, Kogi state.
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