When life gets tough, how do you respond? Reflection on the beauty of resting in God’s power instead of our own.
Excellence is rarely born in comfort; it’s usually forged in the middle of a mess we never asked for. — Nuniek Tirta Sari
I didn’t think much when the sermon in JPCC started today, but a few minutes in, it got surprisingly personal. The sermon title was “Excellent Through Trials.” And oh boy, did that feel suspiciously targeted. Pastor Kenny Goh talked about three types of responses when life throws curveballs at us.
The first one: Powering up.
That’s when we put on our “spiritual superhero” cape, act like we’re totally fine, and pretend nothing hurts. You know the type: they quote verses faster than AI, smile through heartbreak, and say things like “God is good all the time” while clearly dying inside. I’ve been there. It looks holy, but honestly, it’s denial dressed in Scripture.
Then there’s the second group: Powering down.
These are the ones who just... shut down. Stop praying. Stop showing up. Stop believing that God’s still around. They think, “Maybe I’ve been abandoned.” Especially when life felt like one long unanswered email to heaven.
And then Pastor Kenny dropped the third one. The one that silenced everyone.
“I will rest on Jesus’ power.”
Not fight harder.
Not give up.
Just rest, on His power.
I didn’t need to say anything. The truth spoke for itself.
He went on to quote James 1:2–4, and that verse always messes with us.
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds…”
Consider it joy?
Excuse us, James, are you serious?
But then Pastor Kenny explained the word “consider”; it’s not about pretending everything’s fine. It’s about how we choose to label our situations. We can label it “misfortune,” or we can re-label it “faith test.”
That hits different. Because many of us have been sticking the wrong labels on our lives.
When things got hard, we’d label them “failure,” “setback,” “why-me.”
But maybe those moments weren’t punishments. Maybe they were exams. And faith, unlike school tests, doesn’t exist to expose our ignorance; it exists to refine what’s real.
Pastor Kenny said something that I can’t shake off:
“The fire isn’t meant to burn you. It’s meant to purify you.”
Ugh.
That line right there could’ve been printed on a mug and sold at a Christian bookstore, but in that moment, it felt raw and true.
Then he went on:
“Faith must be tested, so you’ll know whether it’s excellent or not.”
Maybe that’s why some things get shaken up: so we can see what we’ve been standing on all along.
If our faith rests on money, status, health, or even our kids, what happens when those get taken away?
It’s not that God’s cruel; it’s that He’s kind enough to reveal when we’ve put our hope in the wrong vault.
After service, my family and I stopped at Mokka for lunch and coffee. Somehow, between bites of bakwan and sips of coffee latte, our conversation drifted toward money management. I taught them how to keep a simple finance journal (noting down expenses and income) both the old-school way in a notebook and the digital way using an app called Sepran, which was actually recommended by our mentee, Riski. (See? It’s not always the mentee learning from the mentor; sometimes it goes the other way around too.)
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| Pic courtesy of our Cobain DATE Yuk! group |
Later, we attended the Cobain DATE Yuk session (our church’s couple enrichment series, and yes, we’ve done six sessions already!). During the discussion, my husband and I talked about how trials have shaped us; not the pretty version, but the real one. The ex-employees terrors, the financial dips, the health scares, the moments we wondered if our prayers expired somewhere in the clouds.
But we realized something as we talked:
Every single trial, in hindsight, upgraded our faith.
We used to think faith was like a superpower: the more we had, the easier life got.
Turns out, faith isn’t about escaping hard times; it’s about standing through them.
It’s shifting focus: from what’s breaking, to Who’s holding us together.
When Pastor Kenny said,
“God doesn’t just give wisdom; He is the wisdom,”
I found myself scribbling it fast in my notebook.
Because that changes everything.
When we ask for wisdom in trials, we’re not just asking for an answer key; we’re asking for Him.
And that means even when we don’t understand the “why,” we can still hold onto the “Who.”
So yes, excellence isn’t about performing perfectly through pain.
It’s about maturing; becoming steady, not shaken.
God’s not in a hurry.
He’s not rushing to get us out of the fire; He’s walking with us in it until we shine.
And as I write this, I’m smiling. Not only because everything’s getting much better now, but because I finally get it a little more.
Trials aren’t evidence that God’s far.
They’re invitations to trust deeper, to rest more, and to rediscover what we’ve anchored our hearts on.
Maybe excellence isn’t about doing more.
Maybe it’s about resting better.
Before I end this reflection, I have to mention a song that’s been with me through many of my own trials: “Blessings” by Laura Story. It’s gentle, honest, and reminds me that sometimes the hardest seasons carry the sweetest gifts. Because excellence through trials isn’t about proving our strength; it’s about discovering His.
Sunday, 19 October 2025
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