When I first began editing CT Women—back when it was the Her.meneutics blog—I was really surprised by how many writers had stories of deep hurt to share. It seemed like every one of our contributors (plus the leaders whose events we covered and books we read) had a major pain point in their backstory: miscarriages, anxiety, divorces, eating disorders, grief over sudden death, abusive childhoods, and cancer diagnoses. These were things I used to think of as exceptional cases.

Part of the surprise came from me being younger then; more hardships come into your circles of friends as you get further into adulthood. But part of it also came from me not having a background in the church and women’s ministry realm.

As the insightful and compelling researcher Kate Bowler writes, evangelical women have developed a “tell-all” sensibility and use vulnerability and personal stories in their ministries.

“Because women are forced out of most credentialed leadership, they’re forced to endlessly self-disclose or use their experience as their authority,” she said in a Slate interview. “And without evergreen authority, they will always be stuck digging in deeper and deeper into their biography.”

It’s common for women, especially as writers and speakers, to see their own stories as vehicles to showcase God’s faithfulness in their life and to encourage other women who might be going through something similar. Yet, there have also been examples where I wondered if certain story didn’t tie up into a spiritual takeaway too neatly, too quickly.

I have admired Kay Warren’s frankness about her ongoing grief over her son Matthew’s suicide in 2013. Whenever she addresses him in her mental health ministry work at Saddleback Church, there’s no tidy lesson about her overcoming that tragedy and moving onto another chapter. Just this month, she spoke honestly about things in a CT Women interview with her friend Kelly Rosati.

“I decided a couple of years ago on the best way to answer the question, ‘How are you?’ What I’ve settled on are two words: wonderful, terrible,” she said, going onto describe her satisfaction with her life, work, and family.

“At the same exact time, there is a terrible, gaping, yawning hole in my life where Matthew belongs. That hole is not gonna close over, it’s gonna remain open until the day I see Jesus. And when I see Jesus, I know I’ll see Matthew,” she said. “And so I live with both. I live with wonderful, and I live with terrible, and I'm learning that that’s an okay way to live.”

I have been thinking about those two words and how much they sum up the contradictory reality of our faith. I grieve for all of you out there who are in the darkness of the terrible. May we see the wonderful in our own lives and the wonderful that is promised ahead.

Kate