060 Faith in Different Seasons: Remembering that God is bigger than chronic illness

Faith can look different in different seasons. Not because God changes, but because our view of Him often changes with what we’re walking through.

In this episode, April shares how chronic illness can become so loud that it fills the entire frame. Appointments, symptoms, pain, exhaustion, and uncertainty demand attention, and before we realize it, we’ve forgotten to look up.

After watching Disclosure Day and reading a thought-provoking quote that pointed to the vastness of God’s creation, April was reminded of something simple and profound:

God is still God.

The God who created galaxies is not overwhelmed by our diagnoses. He isn’t surprised by our stories. He isn’t intimidated by the things that overwhelm us.

This episode is a gentle invitation to lift your eyes, remember God’s greatness, and find hope in the truth that no matter what season you’re in, He remains the same.

What You’ll Learn

• Why faith can feel different in different seasons of life

• How suffering naturally demands our attention

• Why chronic illness can make our world feel smaller

• What God’s vast creation reveals about His greatness

• Why God isn’t overwhelmed by what overwhelms us

• How remembering who God is can bring peace, even when circumstances haven’t changed

Memorable Quotes

“When you live with chronic illness, the illness can become so loud that it fills the entire frame.”

“Suffering has a way of demanding attention.”

“The God who hung every star in place sees me lying in bed on the days my body refuses to cooperate.”

“He is not overwhelmed by the things that overwhelm me.”

“Before my diagnosis, He was God. In the middle of my diagnosis, He is God.”

“Not that my circumstances are small. But that God is infinitely bigger.”

One Tiny Step

The next time your symptoms, fears, or questions feel overwhelming, pause for a moment and simply remind yourself:

God is still God.

You don’t have to have all the answers today. You only need to remember who holds them.

Resources

• Psalm 139:13

• Join The Unseen Sisterhood newsletter

• Visit The Invisible Illness Club website

• Subscribe to The Invisible Illness Club Podcast

Credits

Host: April Aramanda

Podcast: The Invisible Illness Club Podcast

Music: AudioJungle

There have been seasons where I’ve seen God as my Provider because I needed provision.

Seasons where I’ve seen Him as my Comforter because I was hurting and needed comfort.

Seasons where I’ve seen Him as my Sustainer because getting through the day felt like enough.

And lately, if I’m being real honest, I’ve spent a lot of time focused on what is right in front of me.

Appointments.

Symptoms.

Pain.

Exhaustion.

Test results.

The next thing that needs to be figured out.

The next thing that needs to be managed.

The next thing that needs to be endured.

None of those things are small.

But when you live with chronic illness, the illness can become so loud that it fills the entire frame.

Not because you’ve stopped believing in God.

Not because you’ve lost your faith.

Because suffering has a way of demanding attention.

Recently, I was watching Disclosure Day, fun movie by the way, and later read an article on Crosswalk.com discussing the movie. One sentence stopped me. In fact, I cried reading it.

“What if God created a universe of staggering size not to accommodate countless civilizations, but simply to reveal His own greatness?”

I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Not because it answered some great mystery.

Because it reminded me how easy it is to forget who God actually is.

The God we serve created galaxies.

Galaxies!!!

Not states.

Not countries.

Not just planets.

Galaxies.

The kind of distances our minds can’t even fully comprehend.

The kind of beauty that leaves astronomers speechless.

The kind of power that makes us realize how small we really are.

And somehow the God who created all of that knows my name!!

The God who hung every star in place sees me lying in bed on the days my body refuses to cooperate.

The God who holds the universe together is not intimidated by my diagnosis.

He is not pacing Heaven wondering what to do next.

He is not overwhelmed by the things that overwhelm me.

He is still God.

That’s what settled into my heart.

Not that my pain suddenly feels smaller.

Not that my questions disappeared.

Not that everything suddenly makes sense.

Simply this:

God is still God.

Before my diagnosis, He was God.

In the middle of my diagnosis, He is God.

On the good days, He is God.

On the days when I am scared, exhausted, discouraged, or hurting, He is still God.

Sometimes I think chronic illness can shrink our world.

It’s understandable, how can it not?

Life becomes medications and appointments and symptom tracking and trying to make plans around an unpredictable body.

The walls start closing in.

The frame gets smaller.

We isolate ourselves.

And every once in a while, we need something that reminds us to look up.

To remember the vastness of God.

To remember His glory.

To remember His power.

To remember that our lives are held in the hands of a Creator who spoke the universe into existence.

The same God who made the stars.

The same God who made the oceans.

The same God who set every planet in motion.

The same God who knit you together in your mother’s womb as it states in Psalm 139:13.

The same God who sees every tear that has ever fallen from your eyes, even the ones you have cried in secret.

The same God who has never once been surprised by your story.

Maybe that’s what I needed to remember.

Not that my circumstances are small.

But that God is infinitely bigger.

And somehow, that changes everything.