When God’s Love Feels Like Anything but Love
There’s a particular kind of hurt that isn’t just discouraging; it invades your internal dialogue. It hurts so much that it shakes up your identity. It whispers conclusions while you’re still gasping for breath.
God has abandoned you.
God is disappointed in you.
God is done with you.
I’ve been there more times than I’d like to admit. Sitting in the wreckage of disappointment, nursing a grief that felt anything but loving, wondering if God had forgotten me, or worse…He just stopped caring.
That’s why the language of discipline in Hebrews 12 used to feel like salt in the wound. “Endure hardship as discipline” (12:7).
There have been seasons in the past, and I’m coming out of one now, where I wanted to close the Bible and shove it away, because I didn’t need a theology lesson…I needed relief. I needed encouragement. I needed God to give me what I wanted…what I felt I worked for.
But here’s what I’m learning, probably slower than I should. God’s discipline isn’t His rejection. It’s His refusal to let me stay stuck in my personal kingdom building…of which I’m all too prone.
Hebrews doesn’t describe a distant judge looking for reasons to condemn. It describes a Father training His children. “The Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives” (12:6). The point isn’t that God is finally paying me back. The point is that God has already called me son.
And that position in my Father’s household matters, because not all pain is the same.
Some suffering is simply life in a broken world.
Some pain is the consequence of foolish choices.
Some affliction is spiritual opposition.
But Hebrews is telling us that none of it is wasted in the hands of a loving Father. Even when I can’t figure out the source, I can still trust my Father’s heart.
Still, I’ll be honest…I’ve resented that love. I often want what I want...not what He wants for me.
When doors closed that I desperately wanted open…
When relationships ended that I thought were God’s will…
When my carefully constructed plans crumbled in my hands…
I didn’t feel “trained.” I felt abandoned. I didn't feel loved. I felt rejected.
And Hebrews doesn’t ask us to pretend otherwise. “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant” (12:11). Honestly, that might be the understatement of the century lol. Discipline hurts because it confronts what I cling to. It exposes the places I’ve tried to build a life without needing God too much. It reveals what I'm trying to create...regardless of God's desires for me.
But Hebrews doesn’t start with discipline. It starts with Jesus.
Before the passage ever tells us to endure, it tells us where to look: “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith… who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross” (12:2). And then it adds, “Consider him… so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (12:3).
That’s the moment of hope for me. It’s my ‘fix your face’ moment. This weekend was a 'fix your face' weekend.
If Jesus endured the cross for me, then my suffering (discouragement, exhaustion, disappointment, frustration) is not God’s payment plan for my sin. The punishment I deserved has already fallen on Christ. God’s discipline is not wrath; it’s fatherly training. Not condemnation, but formation. Not “You’re out,” but “You’re mine.”
I'm in the middle of facing hardship (disappointment, discouragement, frustration, anger) this weekend, and something very startling happened. The question began to shift for me.
Not: Is God against me?
But: What is He doing in me?
Hebrews says that “later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (12:11). Not immediately. Not during. Later.
And that timing is part of the mercy, because it means God is more committed to what you’re becoming than to your demand for immediate desires and quick explanations.
Looking back, I can trace some of that “later” in my own life. And honestly, it’s helping me process things in my life today...literally today...Saturday, 1/31/26.
Closed doors have exposed how much I trusted my timeline, my work…more than God’s wisdom.
Trusted but failed relationships revealed that I was seeking security in people rather than in Christ.
Failed plans showed me I was more attached to my vision of the good life than to the Author of life Himself.
None of that has felt loving in the moment. But the fruit has been real, and it's been immediate. It’s producing a steadier faith, a quieter ego, a deeper peace that doesn’t collapse when I don’t get my way.
Then comes the gentle, bracing encouragement: “Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet” (12:12–13). God doesn’t merely explain my weakness; He meets me in it. He calls me to take the next right step. Those steps are often small but obedient. They are rooted in rehearsing that He is rebuilding what discouragement has made tremble.
If you’re in the middle of this right now, here’s what I want you to hear. You are not being punished. You are being loved. Deeply, deeply loved. That helps me smile through the pain and disappointment. Rehearsing Jesus today has made me smile and laugh, even in the frustration.
Listen to me. Your pain is not proof that God has turned away from you. If you are in Christ, He has already drawn near…so near that He took your sin, your shame, and your sentence upon Himself. The Father who did not spare His own Son will not abandon you in the training.
Believer…redeemed one, the valley isn’t your destination. If you enter a valley, it is merely your training ground. When you realize that you've stepped into a valley, ask yourself, What is He doing in me?
Remember, the same Shepherd who leads you into hard places is the Shepherd who walks with you there. Remember, even when you don't feel it...it's for your good and His glory.
So don’t “trust the process” like it's a nice slogan. Trust the Father. Fix your eyes on the Son. Keep taking the next step.
The harvest is not a myth. It’s a promise. And in Jesus, the One who began this work will carry you, tenderly and faithfully, until peace and righteousness are more than words on a page, but living fruit in your life.
God has abandoned you.
God is disappointed in you.
God is done with you.
I’ve been there more times than I’d like to admit. Sitting in the wreckage of disappointment, nursing a grief that felt anything but loving, wondering if God had forgotten me, or worse…He just stopped caring.
That’s why the language of discipline in Hebrews 12 used to feel like salt in the wound. “Endure hardship as discipline” (12:7).
There have been seasons in the past, and I’m coming out of one now, where I wanted to close the Bible and shove it away, because I didn’t need a theology lesson…I needed relief. I needed encouragement. I needed God to give me what I wanted…what I felt I worked for.
But here’s what I’m learning, probably slower than I should. God’s discipline isn’t His rejection. It’s His refusal to let me stay stuck in my personal kingdom building…of which I’m all too prone.
Hebrews doesn’t describe a distant judge looking for reasons to condemn. It describes a Father training His children. “The Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives” (12:6). The point isn’t that God is finally paying me back. The point is that God has already called me son.
And that position in my Father’s household matters, because not all pain is the same.
Some suffering is simply life in a broken world.
Some pain is the consequence of foolish choices.
Some affliction is spiritual opposition.
But Hebrews is telling us that none of it is wasted in the hands of a loving Father. Even when I can’t figure out the source, I can still trust my Father’s heart.
Still, I’ll be honest…I’ve resented that love. I often want what I want...not what He wants for me.
When doors closed that I desperately wanted open…
When relationships ended that I thought were God’s will…
When my carefully constructed plans crumbled in my hands…
I didn’t feel “trained.” I felt abandoned. I didn't feel loved. I felt rejected.
And Hebrews doesn’t ask us to pretend otherwise. “For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant” (12:11). Honestly, that might be the understatement of the century lol. Discipline hurts because it confronts what I cling to. It exposes the places I’ve tried to build a life without needing God too much. It reveals what I'm trying to create...regardless of God's desires for me.
But Hebrews doesn’t start with discipline. It starts with Jesus.
Before the passage ever tells us to endure, it tells us where to look: “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith… who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross” (12:2). And then it adds, “Consider him… so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted” (12:3).
That’s the moment of hope for me. It’s my ‘fix your face’ moment. This weekend was a 'fix your face' weekend.
If Jesus endured the cross for me, then my suffering (discouragement, exhaustion, disappointment, frustration) is not God’s payment plan for my sin. The punishment I deserved has already fallen on Christ. God’s discipline is not wrath; it’s fatherly training. Not condemnation, but formation. Not “You’re out,” but “You’re mine.”
I'm in the middle of facing hardship (disappointment, discouragement, frustration, anger) this weekend, and something very startling happened. The question began to shift for me.
Not: Is God against me?
But: What is He doing in me?
Hebrews says that “later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it” (12:11). Not immediately. Not during. Later.
And that timing is part of the mercy, because it means God is more committed to what you’re becoming than to your demand for immediate desires and quick explanations.
Looking back, I can trace some of that “later” in my own life. And honestly, it’s helping me process things in my life today...literally today...Saturday, 1/31/26.
Closed doors have exposed how much I trusted my timeline, my work…more than God’s wisdom.
Trusted but failed relationships revealed that I was seeking security in people rather than in Christ.
Failed plans showed me I was more attached to my vision of the good life than to the Author of life Himself.
None of that has felt loving in the moment. But the fruit has been real, and it's been immediate. It’s producing a steadier faith, a quieter ego, a deeper peace that doesn’t collapse when I don’t get my way.
Then comes the gentle, bracing encouragement: “Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet” (12:12–13). God doesn’t merely explain my weakness; He meets me in it. He calls me to take the next right step. Those steps are often small but obedient. They are rooted in rehearsing that He is rebuilding what discouragement has made tremble.
If you’re in the middle of this right now, here’s what I want you to hear. You are not being punished. You are being loved. Deeply, deeply loved. That helps me smile through the pain and disappointment. Rehearsing Jesus today has made me smile and laugh, even in the frustration.
Listen to me. Your pain is not proof that God has turned away from you. If you are in Christ, He has already drawn near…so near that He took your sin, your shame, and your sentence upon Himself. The Father who did not spare His own Son will not abandon you in the training.
Believer…redeemed one, the valley isn’t your destination. If you enter a valley, it is merely your training ground. When you realize that you've stepped into a valley, ask yourself, What is He doing in me?
Remember, the same Shepherd who leads you into hard places is the Shepherd who walks with you there. Remember, even when you don't feel it...it's for your good and His glory.
So don’t “trust the process” like it's a nice slogan. Trust the Father. Fix your eyes on the Son. Keep taking the next step.
The harvest is not a myth. It’s a promise. And in Jesus, the One who began this work will carry you, tenderly and faithfully, until peace and righteousness are more than words on a page, but living fruit in your life.
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