My Journey to Find Hope: Trusting God Through Chronic Illness

Is there any hope for me? Will things ever get better?

Those questions are part of my story. If you have asked them, too, I want you to know you are welcome here.

People sometimes ask how I can have hope while living with rheumatoid arthritis. I understand the question. When pain continues and the answers you have prayed for haven’t come, hope can feel far away.

But I didn’t arrive at hope because everything got better. I began finding hope while I was still hurting.

Rheumatoid arthritis has taken much from me. There are abilities I miss, limitations I never expected, and days that require more patience than I feel I have. Yet I believe my life still has purpose—and so does yours.

This is the story of how God began restoring hope to my weary heart.

When Pushing Through Was All I Knew

My health challenges began when I was fourteen. After injuring my lower back playing basketball, I was diagnosed with spondylolisthesis and underwent surgery to fuse two bones at the base of my spine.

Thankfully, the surgery was successful. I returned to most activities throughout high school. In college, regular exercise and stretching helped me manage my lower back pain.

Over time, being active became a significant part of my life. I competed in boxing, rode road and mountain bikes, and participated in adventure races. I loved challenging myself and seeing what my body could do.

In my late twenties, a knuckle on my left hand began swelling. I assumed it was from boxing. I also went through knee, foot, and wrist surgeries, recovering and returning to activity each time.

I had become accustomed to pushing through discomfort.

For a while, that seemed to work. Eventually, my body needed more attention than I was willing to give it.

When My Body Could No Longer Keep Up

My thirties brought significant changes. I went through a divorce and returned to school to become an acupuncturist.

I cared deeply about my health. I paid attention to food, exercise, and the ways I could support my body. Looking back, I can see that my emotional and spiritual life also needed care.

Several years into practicing acupuncture, I began experiencing overwhelming fatigue. I needed to rest between patients. Eventually, I was drinking two or three energy drinks a day just to keep going—something I had never done before.

Then I developed a fever of 103 degrees.

Even then, I kept working. I was so accustomed to enduring discomfort that I struggled to recognize when I needed help.

After several days, I went to the emergency room. A severe kidney infection led to four days in the hospital receiving intravenous antibiotics. Thankfully, the infection cleared without lasting kidney damage.

But soon afterward, severe joint pain and swelling began.

Sleeping, walking, and ordinary daily activities became difficult. The body I had relied on for so long could no longer keep up with the life I was trying to live.

The Moment I Could No Longer Pretend I Was Okay

I still tried to carry on.

I even attempted a hiking trip through the Canadian Rockies while struggling with intense pain. During that season, I turned to leftover prescription pain medication and alcohol to cope. Looking back, I recognize how unsafe those choices were—and how desperately I needed help.

After returning home, I found myself sitting on my closet floor, overwhelmed by pain and wanting my life to end.

It is difficult to write those words. But I share them because someone reading this may know what it feels like to hurt so much that you cannot imagine another day.

My sister-in-law was on the phone with me. She urged me to get up and seek help. Eventually, I went to the doctor and received treatment for depression. Not long afterward, I learned I had rheumatoid arthritis.

Needing help did not mean I had failed. It meant I was hurting and needed care.

If you recognize yourself in this part of my story, you deserve that same care and compassion.

Trying Everything and Still Searching for Relief

One of the hardest parts was feeling that I had been doing everything “right.”

I was attentive to my health, yet I was facing rheumatoid arthritis and Hashimoto’s disease.

I worked with a functional medicine doctor, changed my diet, took supplements, and pursued numerous approaches in search of relief. I kept hoping the next thing would help me feel like myself again.

Eventually, I began taking Humira and methotrexate. For several years, the medication helped. I felt better and regained some of the activity I had missed.

During that season, I also married an amazing man. We were able to enjoy many activities together, and I was grateful.

Then more health challenges followed. I received diagnoses of lupus and Sjögren’s syndrome. After stopping Humira, I tried other medications and underwent biologic infusions and steroid treatments.

Later, I was diagnosed with steroid-induced osteoporosis.

It felt as though the life I had pictured was slipping away, one piece at a time.

Perhaps you understand that kind of grief. Chronic illness can affect much more than your body. It can change your plans, your relationships, your independence, and the way you see yourself.

There is room to grieve those losses. You do not have to minimize them to be grateful for what remains.

Seeking God in the Middle of the Questions

I had always believed that God could heal. As my circumstances became more difficult, I began seeking Him more deeply.

In 2012, I attended seminars through a ministry in Georgia called Be In Health. That experience became part of my journey of exploring faith, emotional wounds, and healing.

During that season, I experienced improvements in my health that I understood as answers to prayer. My bone-density results improved, and I was told that lupus was no longer present. I received those changes with deep gratitude.

At that point in my journey, I chose to stop my medications. That personal decision is not a recommendation for anyone else. Rheumatoid arthritis treatment can help prevent joint damage, and treatment changes need a physician’s guidance. Faith and medical care can be part of the same journey. Learn more from the National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health.

As I continued seeking God, I began recognizing painful beliefs I had carried about myself.

I feared rejection. I questioned my worth. I struggled to believe I was lovable.

Those wounds deserved care, but they were not proof that I had caused my illness. If you are living with a chronic condition, please hear this: your diagnosis is not a measure of your faith, your worth, or how deeply God loves you.

Learning to Receive the Love I Had Longed For

I grew up with parents who loved and supported me. Even so, I struggled to value myself and to understand how to receive love.

At forty years old, I wrote a letter to God. I told Him something I was afraid to admit: I wasn’t sure I loved Him.

Then I asked Him to teach me.

I wanted to receive love. I wanted to give love. I wanted to believe that I was worth loving.

That honest prayer became part of a gradual process. Over time, I began facing painful beliefs, making changes, and learning to see myself with greater compassion. Eventually, I stopped drinking.

There was no tidy timeline. There were questions, setbacks, and moments when I needed to begin again.

But hope began returning as I learned that I could come to God honestly—even when I felt confused, disappointed, or unsure.

You can come to Him that way, too.

Finding Hope While the Healing Is Still Unfinished

Today, I still live with rheumatoid arthritis. I experience joint swelling and limited movement. My physical story remains unfinished.

Yet there has been profound healing in my heart.

I know I have value. I know I have something to contribute. I believe God can work through my life in its present condition.

I continue to pray for complete healing and restoration. And when belief feels difficult, I return to the honest prayer in Mark 9:24: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”

That prayer makes room for both faith and struggle.

You can trust God and still feel tired. You can pray for healing and still need support. You can have hope and still grieve what illness has changed.

You do not have to wait until you feel better to be deeply loved or to live a life that matters.

There Is Hope for Your Weary Heart, Too

I share my story because I know how lonely it can feel to keep showing up while quietly wondering how much longer you can keep going.

Maybe your struggle is chronic illness. Maybe it is grief, financial pressure, a broken relationship, or a season that has lasted much longer than you expected.

I will not tell you that finding hope makes every circumstance easy. It hasn’t made mine easy.

But I believe God meets us in these places. He welcomes our questions, sustains us through the waiting, and helps us take the next step.

That is the heart behind Hope for the Weary Heart.

My desire is to help you hold on through life’s trials and continue growing in faith, hope, and love—with room for honest emotions and unfinished stories.

Today, your next step may be telling someone you are struggling. It may be making an appointment, allowing yourself to rest, or whispering a prayer when you have no other words.

You do not have to solve your whole future today.

There is hope for you here.

A Prayer for the Weary Heart

Lord, You know how tired I am. You see the pain, the questions, and the things I am afraid to say aloud.

Help me receive Your love in the middle of this unfinished story. Give me wisdom to seek the care I need and courage to let others walk beside me.

When hope feels far away, help me take one small step toward You. Remind me that my life has value today. Restore my weary heart, and help me trust You with tomorrow.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

If you are thinking about suicide or feel unable to stay safe, seek immediate support. In the United States, call or text 988. If you are in immediate danger, call 911 or go to the nearest emergency department. Outside the U.S., contact your local crisis service or emergency number.