Guest Post-Alex Lewandowski

Guest post by Alex Lewandowski

There was a time in my life when I thought faith was mostly about being strong. I believed that if I was doing it right, I’d feel peace, clarity, and confidence all the time. I’d read the Bible like it was a guidebook for self-improvement, and I thought struggles meant I’d messed up or wandered too far off the path. But God, in His mercy, let me learn differently.

One of the hardest seasons came when everything I had planned—things I had prayed for—started falling apart and my dad passed away very suddenly. Doors I believed God had opened slammed shut. People I trusted turned away. My Dad, who I never got to reconnect with and get to know as an adult, was ripped away from me overnight. I felt like I was walking through fog with no map. I remember lying on the floor late at night, the kind of prayer that doesn’t even have words in it—just groaning, silence, and a heart that says, “God, where are You?”

It was in that place that I began to know God—not just know about Him, but know Him. Not in the high moments of spiritual achievement, but in the ashes. That’s where I learned that God doesn’t just show up when you’re strong. He comes into the places where you’re so broken you can’t lift your head. And He sits with you. He weeps with you. He waits with you. Not rushing the process, not disappointed, not distant.

One night, in the middle of this season, I read Psalm 34:18:

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

It wasn’t a new verse. I’d read it dozens of times. But that night, it felt like it was written just for me. Not because everything suddenly got better—but because I realized I wasn’t alone.

Struggle stripped me of illusions. It taught me that grace is not for the people who have it together—it’s for the weak, the confused, the weary, the ones who have nothing left but a whisper of a prayer. That’s where I met Jesus—not as a distant Savior, but as the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief. He didn’t just sympathize—He understood.

And in time, the fog did lift. Some of the prayers were answered, but others weren’t—and somehow that became okay. Because I had found something better than a fixed life. I found the presence of the Living God, who walked with me, even when I didn’t understand. Especially then.

So if you’re in a struggle right now, and God feels far—take heart. He’s closer than your breath. You don’t have to climb your way up to Him. Just turn your face in His direction, and you’ll find He’s already right there. Grace is not a ladder. It’s a hand reaching down.