Show Me How to Stand Firm: Letter from a Gen Z Woman
“He’s the God who makes the unbearable bearable.” My friend’s husband had been diagnosed with terminal cancer while their family served on the mission field, and as she navigated grief upon grief, that was her perspective. She taught her five kids to echo: “We have today. Tomorrow isn’t promised. Eternity with God is our deepest hope.” As my friend stood firm in this truth, I watched—a member of Gen Z, captivated by faith tested and enduring.
Years later, I found myself navigating grief of a different kind. What sentence resounded in my head and heart? “He’s the God who makes the unbearable bearable.” I doubt my friend would have guessed those words would become a refuge for me, but they did. I never forgot them. As her testimony of steadfastness unfolded around me in real time, a thread of her faith was woven into the fabric of my young life.
I think of another friend who’s become like a big sister to me. Last year, I watched her navigate two painful miscarriages, and all the while, she blessed the Lord. “This is hard, but He’s good,” she repeated. Her honesty about the wrestlings in her heart told a truer story than a stoic faith would have. We can grieve in the presence of a good Father.
Then there’s this memory from my college church. One particular Sunday, two women stood singing in the row in front of me, surrounded by their respective families. I knew both were navigating challenging circumstances. I knew they were probably weary. But their smiles? Radiant. As they worshiped, I thought, This is what endurance looks like. This is what it means to stand firm in God’s grace.
If you’re an older woman in the church, you have an audience in your suffering. And when I refer to older women, I don’t mean only the senior saints. I’ve looked up to young moms, middle-aged women with kids in college, single women, grandmothers . . . the list could go on. If you’re reading this blog post, it probably applies to you! So this is my plea on behalf of Gen Z: show us how to stand firm.
1. Show Us by Planting Yourself
Each of the women above had something in common: they endured suffering in the Lord’s strength. They planted their lives in the soil of Scripture. They were refreshed by the streams of His sustaining grace. If one passage could describe them, it would be Jeremiah 17:7–8:
The person who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence indeed is the LORD, is blessed. He will be like a tree planted by water: it sends its roots out toward a stream, it doesn’t fear when heat comes, and its foliage remains green. It will not worry in a year of drought or cease producing fruit.
Because my friends placed their trust and confidence in the Lord, they bore much fruit in their suffering. When the drought came, they didn’t wither. Instead, the radiance of their joy became a convincing testimony of the God who sustains.
My generation is surrounded by the opposite: lives planted in the shallow soil of self-help, far from the streams of God’s grace. When heat comes, they wither. Their fruitfulness gives way to barrenness. Bitterness chokes out their joy. But you can show us a better way. In the face of your challenging circumstances, show us the goodness of dependence—the goodness of not doing this on our own. We need to see what it looks like to stand firm in the Lord’s strength—that we can be fruitful because we’re planted next to Him, and His hands are in the dirt, making something beautiful of us.
2. Show Us by Telling Your Story
Standing firm isn’t synonymous with having it all together, but modern media often tells a different story. The independent woman is praised. The one who faces it all on her own. The one who saves herself. We need someone to flip the script, and when you tell your story as it really is, you’re doing just that. You’re showing us there’s strength in acknowledging our need.
I mentioned earlier that my friend’s honesty told a truer story than a stoic faith would have. Instead of pretending to be okay, she was real with me. She told me, “This is painful.” She invited me to pray with her. And then she set her hope in God. In doing so, she patterned David who first asked, “How long, LORD? Will you forget me forever?” before turning to declare, “I have trusted in your faithful love; my heart will rejoice in your deliverance” (Psalm 13:1, 5).
In your suffering, you can work hard to appear “okay.” But can I gently tell you that this steals glory from God? Instead, your suffering can be a testimony to the God who receives all your questions with patience. The God who holds you tenderly as you wrestle in his arms. The God who meets you as you’re crying on the bathroom floor and whispers, “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor. 12:9). Isn’t this better? Will you show us this God—the One who isn’t asking us to do the hard perfectly?
If you tell your story in all its imperfection, you show the younger women in your life that they can be imperfect too. That God won’t leave them when they fall short, because He hasn’t left you. When you’re honest about your weakness, you’ll be better positioned to magnify the Lord. He’s the One who does beautiful work in needy hearts. He’s the One who helps you stand firm. I love the heart posture of the psalmist in Psalm 66:
Come and hear, all you who fear God, and I will tell what he has done for my soul. (Psalm 66:16 ESV)
He’s saying, “Everyone! You’ve got to hear this. The Lord has been working beautiful things in my heart and I want you to be encouraged by his faithfulness to me.” Your testimony makes this same declaration.
When you tell your imperfect story, you’re inviting women like me to see all that God has done for your soul. You’re saying, “I was in the pit, but look how He rescued me. Look how He made me more like Jesus. Look how He was with me in the messy in between.” Let me tell you, this is encouraging. Show us how to stand firm, not by chasing perfection, but by telling the story of Christ’s power being perfected in you (2 Cor 12:9).
3. Show Us by Inviting Us In
Here’s the thing: we’ll never get to know your story if you don’t let us into your world. What might it look like to invite a younger woman not just into your life, but into your real life? Are you willing to let her bear witness to your mess? To your suffering?
My friend who endured two miscarriages invited me into her suffering by texting me updates and asking me to pray with her on hard days. Because she let me walk with her in her grief, I got to rejoice with her when the Lord gave her a son. It was pure joy to hold him and know that God is faithful. It was a gift to both weep and rejoice with her (Rom 12:15).
I’ve also been blessed by moms who let me into their ordinary, unpolished lives. Sometimes there’s chaos—messy mealtimes, a baby who can’t sleep, siblings fighting world war three in the backyard. Always, there are dishes to wash, little ones to disciple, meals to cook, and sacrifices to make. In these spaces, I’ve found that endurance looks a lot like doing ordinary life in the Lord’s strength.
Whatever your life looks like today, would you let us in? We want to weep with you and rejoice with you. We want to witness God’s faithfulness to uphold you when you’re worn out. We want to imitate you as you imitate Christ (1 Cor 11:1).
And another thing—we want to serve you! Yes, this is your permission slip to take advantage of your young, energetic sisters in Christ. Ask us to bless you by watching your kids, helping you fold laundry, or driving you to your doctor’s appointment. I promise, being invited to do these things is a joy, not a burden.
Before I wrap up, I want to offer a quick caveat. I’m not saying you should throw discretion out the window. Not every moment is appropriate to live out in front of the younger women in your life. What I am saying is that the appropriate moments may be more numerous than you think. Privacy can become an idol in the body of Christ, an acceptable form of pride.
Let’s reject the idolatry of privacy and instead embrace the glory of authentic community. It’s good and beautiful to let sisters walk with you in your suffering, not merely on the fringes of it. We’re meant to “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2 ESV).
Show Us How
Dear older woman, my generation needs you.
Gen Z girls are becoming women now. Some of us are graduating college. Others are getting married and having kids. All of us are navigating life in a world that’s broken and in desperate need of redemption.
Womanhood will bring new joys to be sure, but we’re not naive. We know it will bring new griefs and challenges too. We’re looking to the Lord for guidance, but we’re also looking to you, our spiritual big sisters, mothers, and grandmothers. When you stand firm, you show us how to do the same. And we’re grateful.
At True Woman ’25, join thousands of women hungry for truth, revival, and a deeper walk with Christ. Through powerful teaching, heartfelt worship, and unforgettable moments in God’s presence, you’ll be challenged to live surrendered and anchored in His Word. Don’t miss this gathering of women who long to behold the wonder of the Word. Make plans to join us October 2–4, 2025, in Indianapolis.
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