Who is harder on you - God or you?

Many people carry silent battles within themselves and within the walls of their own homes. Behind beautiful smiles, there are hidden pains, and laughter sometimes covers wounds that are deep within. For some, life becomes just breathing without a sense of direction or joy. They wake up each day trying to survive rather than live. Home, which should be a place of love and safety, becomes a place where peace is lost and hearts grow cold.

Many live under one roof but not in one heart. Behind closed doors are words that could heal but are never spoken, and forgiveness that everyone waits for but no one begins. There are parents who feel unseen by their children, and children who feel unloved by their parents. There are couples who live together yet have stopped talking, and siblings who share the same roof but not the same affection. The walls that should protect now carry memories of arguments, bitterness, and silence.

Betrayal from family or friends often cuts the deepest. The people we trust the most are sometimes the ones who hurt us most. Some are left carrying the pain of rejection, while others feel trapped in relationships that drain their strength. When love becomes distant and trust fades, it becomes easy to question people, and even God. Many begin to wonder if love is still worth believing in.

For others, the hardest battle is not with people but with themselves. They struggle with guilt, regret, and the feeling of never being enough. Some cannot forgive themselves for past mistakes; others feel crushed by expectations they can never meet. They wear a calm face in public but cry in secret. Inside, they feel forgotten, unworthy, or empty.

And in that silence, loneliness grows. Days become routine, prayers feel dry, and hope feels far away. Many stop talking to God not because they don’t believe in Him, but because they feel too broken to approach Him. Yet, in those quiet and painful places, one question often whispers in the heart: What is God doing in our brokenness?

When we question God’s work in our brokenness, we only find ourselves in the place of those who struggled with the same fate in biblical history. Take Jacob and Esau, for instance, what a betrayal it was between brothers born from the same womb. A single meal led to a moment of deceit, and a lifetime of distance followed. Their home was torn by favouritism and competition, and what should have been a bond of love became a story of division. Yet, even there, God was not absent. He was quietly working through the pain shaping Jacob’s character, humbling his heart, and preparing reconciliation that would one day heal their broken story.

The same can be said of Joseph’s home. Betrayed by his own brothers, sold into slavery, and forgotten for years yet God was writing redemption in the silence. Sometimes our own homes feel the same, filled with hurt, misunderstanding, and unspoken distance. We question where God is, why He allows such pain. But He is still working behind the curtain of our chaos, moulding our hearts through the very wounds we wish never happened.

Then there was Hannah, whose pain was not hidden but daily rubbed in her face. She lived with another woman who mocked her barrenness, while her own husband could not understand the depth of her ache. Every year, she went to the house of God carrying the same pain, the same unanswered prayer. Even there, she was misunderstood – the priest mistook her desperate prayer for drunkenness. What a lonely pain that must have been; to hurt deeply and still be seen wrongly. Yet, in her anguish, she didn’t turn away from God. She poured everything out before Him, and in that honest brokenness, God began His quiet work of healing.

Jeremiah carried a different pain — one of loneliness and rejection. He obeyed God’s call but was mocked, beaten, and cursed for speaking truth. His words of lament echo the cries of those who feel forgotten in their obedience. Yet in his anguish, Jeremiah found something precious: hope that still burns even in ruins — “Great is Your faithfulness.”

And Elijah, though bold on Mount Carmel, later ran into the wilderness, crushed under exhaustion and fear. He sat under a tree, asking God to take his life. But God did not rebuke him; He met him gently — through rest, food, and a whisper. Sometimes, God heals not through grand miracles but through His quiet nearness when we least expect it.

We cannot forget Job – a man who lost everything – family, wealth, health, and even the understanding of his friends. His story isn’t just about patience but about raw questioning; he sat in ashes, scraping his wounds, wondering where God had gone. His friends offered theology instead of comfort, but God met him in truth.

And then there another woman, Naomi – a woman who buried her husband and sons in a foreign land. Her grief was so bitter she renamed herself “Mara.” She felt empty, abandoned, and too old for hope yet God was quietly writing a redemption story through her loss, bringing forth the lineage of Christ.

Sometimes, we find ourselves questioning everything that has happened to us — the pain, the silence, the waiting. Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that. Even the greatest men and women in the Bible did the same. Job asked why he was even born. Hannah wept until she had no words left. Elijah wanted to give up and die. Jeremiah accused God of deceiving him. These weren’t people without faith — they were people with faith who got tired, wounded, and confused.

And today, we find ourselves in the same place. Life can feel unfair. We pray, but nothing changes. We forgive, but the wound still hurts. Families still fall apart, trust still breaks, and loneliness still sits quietly beside us. For many, even faith feels heavy — like another thing they can’t seem to get right. We hear of God’s goodness but don’t always feel it. We sing of peace while wrestling with unrest.

But maybe the question isn’t whether God is still good — maybe it’s what God is doing through all this. Could it be that, just like in the lives of Job, Hannah, or Elijah, He is still near, still at work, even when we can’t see it?

Maybe God is not hard on you. Maybe you are hard on yourself. We often blame God for the pain we carry, when in truth, He may be the only One still holding us together. Sometimes, we punish ourselves more than He ever would — replaying our failures, our guilt, and our “what ifs.” We carry shame for things God has already forgiven. We hold on to brokenness that He’s been patiently waiting to heal.

God never looked at the broken and turned away. He sat with them. He listened. He restored. The God who met Elijah in exhaustion, who lifted Peter after denial, who heard Hannah’s silent prayer — He is still the same today. He doesn’t condemn those who come with tears; He meets them with grace.

So maybe, instead of asking why life is so hard, we can begin asking what God might be shaping in us through it. Maybe, what feels like breaking is really the place where God is rebuilding you — softer, wiser, and closer to His heart.

Brokenness is not the end of your story. It might just be the place where God begins to write again. You may not see it now, but even in silence, God is working in the waiting, in the tears, in the things that don’t make sense.

The God who rebuilt Jacob’s broken family, who gave Hannah a song, who lifted Elijah from despair, and who restored Peter after failure, hasn’t changed. He still meets people in the mess of life, not after they’ve fixed it.

So, if you’re tired of holding yourself to a standard that God never set, let go. Let Him carry what you can’t. Let Him heal what you’ve tried to hide. God’s heart is not to crush you, but to draw you close — to remind you that grace was never meant to be earned.

You don’t have to have it all together. You just come as you are. Because sometimes, the most beautiful thing God can do with a broken life is to make it whole again.

When life feels too heavy to carry, remember what God has already spoken. He does not break the bruised or cast away the weary. “A bruised reed He will not break, and a smouldering wick He will not snuff out.” (Isaiah 42:3) He draws near to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). And when your soul grows tired from holding everything together, He still whispers, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

These promises remind us that God is not the one pushing us beyond our limits — He is the one inviting us to rest. He knows your pain, your quiet struggles, your moments of doubt. Yet, He calls you His own. When guilt and failure speak loudly, let His Word speak louder. You are not forgotten; you are not beyond repair. God still heals, still restores, and still writes beauty out of broken stories.

And maybe, what feels broken in your life is not the end but the place where God is beginning something new. So, do not be hard on yourself because God is not.