Editor’s note: This essay came in first place by blind judging for the 2026 Young Adults Writing Contest on the topic of “Sustaining Faith.”
In the summer of 2024, I interned as a grant writer at Kingdom Causes Bellflower, a community development nonprofit in Bellflower, Calif. Grant writing is not for the faint of heart. The grant writer must navigate databases and application portals, comb through 990s for financial information, and manage reporting and accountability. All this might be more easily achieved if it were not for the brutality of constant failure. The grant writer is lucky if they hear back from the foundation at all, and even luckier if that response is “we’re considering it.”
I recently graduated from Calvin University and managed to secure a year-long internship with a faith-based anti-trafficking agency. Like me, many young adult believers are steeped in an environment of anxiety as new graduates desperately try to get their foot in the door of their industry. The news keeps telling us that the job market is horrible right now. Every “entry-level” position seems to require two or three years of work experience. Applying for jobs can easily become a full-time position by itself, with a low return on investment.
Over the past four years at Calvin, I have been saturated in Reformed doctrine—and confessional drama. My fellow students and I have wrestled with how to navigate difficulties in our denomination and the disaffiliation of churches just down the street. We have wondered how we can possibly build a beloved community on campus and across the CRC when divisions cut deep and nuance ceases to be a priority. We have witnessed a breakdown of trust between students, faculty, administrators, and our Board of Trustees. And we have shuddered at the world we are inheriting.
It’s scary out here, folks.
How do we sustain our faith in moments like these, when we feel embattled on every side, when our best doesn’t seem to cut it, when we are simply struggling to survive, let alone thrive? How do we follow God’s calling faithfully when doors slam shut? How do we release our culture’s definition of success and cling tightly to the promise of our Savior that as he cares for the birds, he will care for us (Matt. 6:26-34)? How do we buy into a kingdom vision greater than our little lives? And most of all: how do we do all this with hope?
To endure, faith must be grounded in Scripture and focused on serving God’s purposes, not hitting world-defined performance benchmarks. In John 11, Jesus instructs the residents of Bethany to remove the stone from the entrance of Lazarus’s tomb. When Martha protests that the stench will be too strong, Jesus replies, “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” A few moments later, he lifts his heart in prayer, thanking the Father for hearing him “that they may believe that you sent me.” When God shows up in our lives, it is not just for our own benefit. Indeed, I would argue that it is not primarily for our benefit. God works so that God may be glorified, and so that his people would be drawn to him. Our sustaining faith is not based on the premise that God will meet all our needs or fulfill our wishes. Instead, we trust that God’s purposes would be worked out in our lives, and we ask for the strength to release our own desires and be fully committed to the larger project of God’s kingdom.
A sustaining faith is also deeply rooted in Christ-centered communities. We desperately need each other to bolster, challenge, nurture, and deepen our faith. Sometimes, we need to give each other resources. Such is the case for Kingdom Causes Bellflower, which invites local community members to invest their time, money, and care into its housing, employment, and educational programs. More often, we need to recommit to honest dialogue, loving those we disagree with and honoring them with empathy and respect. Always, we need to pray for each other. God gives us the gift of communities in all their difficulties, diversity, and vibrancy, and God also asks us to be united in our common faith in Jesus Christ (John 17:20-23). As we contribute to the life of the community, our individual faith will be encouraged and stretched.
When the foundations of our world seem to shake, faith that sustains requires a balance between lament and courage. Faith does not mean optimism, nor incessant positivity. It does not give us a superpower to do whatever we want in the name of Jesus. It is possible—and even wise—to unite faith with lament for the brokenness of the world. We can wonder what God is doing even as we trust that he is moving, as the Psalmist grieves before the “and yet.” At the same time, our faith gives us courage to continue the good work. It motivates us to ask good questions, to build relationships with people who are different from us, to learn about new things and marvel at the beauty of God’s world, and to live with a joy that defies understanding.
Lastly, a sustaining faith requires consistency and commitment, even when the tasks set before us feel mundane or impossible. In her book Liturgy of the Ordinary, Tish Harrison Warren writes that “the kind of spiritual life and disciplines needed to sustain the Christian life are quiet, repetitive, and ordinary” (p. 35). Faith is submitting another grant application, or applying for another job. It is welcoming another difficult conversation about sexuality. It is viewing our daily, small actions as acts of worship unto the Lord. Like the boy offering his loaves and fish, the Lord can take our sustenance and multiply it into abundance. And even when the great miracle doesn’t happen as we imagined or expected, the Lord himself gives us our daily bread, broken around a communal table and washed down with tears. Rejection, insecurity, loss, and division are no match for the tender, sustaining care of the King.