When the Road Gets Hard, Remember Who You Are

2026-10-13

My Circumstances Are Not My Identity.

An honest personal reflection by Otto Brinkmeier on faith, human dignity, hardship, church hurt and the courage to keep going.

There are seasons in life when circumstances become so difficult that they begin to influence the way we see ourselves.

Financial pressure, loneliness, disappointment, grief and unanswered questions can slowly wear us down. Even when we know that we have abilities, experience and something worthwhile to contribute, there are moments when our feelings tell us a very different story.

I know something about those moments.

I am writing this not because I have everything figured out, nor because I have reached some elevated position from which I can tell others how to live. I am writing because I am still learning, still struggling, still working and still trying to understand what it means to walk by faith when life does not unfold as I had hoped.

I want to share something of that journey because perhaps someone else needs to hear that difficult circumstances do not determine a person’s worth.

I may feel worthless at times, but that does not mean I am worthless.

There is a difference between the way we feel during a difficult season and the truth about who we are.

1. When Circumstances Begin to Speak Louder Than the Truth

My present circumstances are not easy.

Financial pressure has made even ordinary necessities a concern. The daily effort required simply to keep going can be exhausting. There are days when I feel the weight of my responsibilities, the uncertainty of the future and the loneliness that comes from carrying burdens that other people may not fully understand.

It would be dishonest to pretend that these things do not affect me.

Sometimes I become discouraged. Sometimes I question myself. Sometimes I look at where I am in life and wonder how things could have turned out so differently.

But I have come to recognise something important: hardship can influence our perception of ourselves without accurately describing who we are.

A person can be struggling financially and still possess valuable skills. A person can feel lonely and still be worthy of friendship. A person can experience disappointment and still have something meaningful to contribute to the world.

Our bank balances cannot measure our character. Our present employment cannot measure the full extent of our abilities. Our setbacks cannot erase the experience we have accumulated or the lessons we have learned.

And the opinions of others, whether favourable or critical, cannot provide the final verdict on our lives.

I have spent years writing, learning, developing ideas and working on projects that require patience, creativity and technical skill. I have been encouraged by people who recognise those abilities in me. I know that I have something to contribute.

Yet knowing these things does not make me immune to discouragement.

That is why I need to remind myself, especially on difficult days, that feeling defeated is not the same as being defeated, and feeling worthless is not proof of worthlessness.

Sometimes we need to remind ourselves of truths we already know.

2. Faith Does Not Mean We Never Ask Difficult Questions

My Christian journey has not been a straight line.

There have been times when my faith was strong, times when I was deeply disappointed, and times when my anger and confusion took me far from the beliefs I once held dear.

I have questioned God. I have wrestled with painful circumstances. I have struggled to understand why suffering happens and why sincere people sometimes find themselves facing difficulties they never expected.

I would be dishonest if I presented my faith as a life without doubts.

For me, faith has also involved returning to difficult questions, examining my heart and trying to find my way forward when I do not have all the answers.

Psalm 34:18 offers this assurance:

“The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.” — Psalm 34:18, KJV

I find comfort in the idea that a broken heart does not place someone beyond God’s concern.

We sometimes imagine that we must first become strong, confident and spiritually composed before we can approach God. But perhaps one of the most honest things we can do is come to Him as we are: confused, tired, disappointed, hopeful, or even struggling to understand Him.

I cannot claim to understand everything God permits in my life. I cannot promise that every difficulty will soon disappear. But I can continue to seek Him, bring my questions into the open and remain willing to learn.

Faith is not a performance in which we pretend to be untroubled.

Sometimes faith is the decision to keep seeking God even when our feelings and circumstances make that difficult.

3. Church, Disappointment and the Possibility of Reconciliation

Church has been an important part of my life.

My mother and I were both baptised at Cornerstone Church, a congregation that holds many memories for me. In earlier years, I participated in Kingdom Advancement Ministries (KAM), visiting new members, encouraging them and praying with them.

There was a time, however, when my personal struggles affected my involvement in the church. I was smoking marijuana, and I was told that I could no longer participate in that ministry until I had addressed my situation. The way things unfolded left me hurt, and my mother was also affected by repeated questions about my behaviour.

Eventually, we both left.

My disappointment became entangled with my relationship with God, and I spent many years away from church. During that period, I explored paths that took me further from the faith I had once embraced.

But my story did not end there.

I eventually returned to Cornerstone, around 2012, although I cannot recall the exact date. I was open about my past and the fact that I was still smoking marijuana. The leadership at that time treated me with respect, and I experienced a welcome that allowed me to begin rebuilding my relationship with the church.

I eventually stopped smoking marijuana, around 2014 or 2015.

I remember the good things about Cornerstone: its dynamic environment, the fellowship, the teaching, the people who cared, and the practical help it offered to those experiencing hardship. Those memories remain important to me.

Later, changes in leadership and difficult personal experiences created further disappointment. One particularly painful incident involved my reaching out to a church leader after an armed robbery in which I was injured and a man working alongside me was forcibly abducted. I was frightened and needed prayer and pastoral support. From what I remember, the response included the words, “It is what it is.”

I cannot remember every detail of that conversation, and I cannot claim to know the leader’s intentions. I can, however, acknowledge that I felt hurt by the response at a time when I needed care and understanding.

Other experiences also left me feeling unwelcome and uncertain about my place in the congregation.

I share this history not to condemn Cornerstone, embarrass anyone or settle old scores. I recognise that my recollection is my own perspective, and that other people may remember some events differently.

I also recognise that the actions or attitudes of particular individuals do not necessarily define an entire church.

I still value the good I experienced there. I still appreciate the theology I encountered. I can acknowledge that I was hurt without declaring that everything about the church was wrong.

That distinction matters to me.

I have begun to consider whether reconciliation might be possible and whether I might find my way back to Christian fellowship. I do not know what the outcome will be. I cannot assume that returning will be straightforward, or that every past disagreement will be resolved.

But I am willing to consider the possibility.

Reconciliation does not require us to pretend that nothing happened. It requires a willingness to approach one another honestly, to listen, to acknowledge hurt where appropriate and to consider whether a better relationship can be built.

Nor does forgiveness mean that we must deny our experiences or abandon reasonable boundaries.

I believe it is possible to remember what was good, acknowledge what was painful and still leave room for peace.

For anyone who has been hurt in a church, I would offer this thought: do not let one painful chapter automatically determine your entire relationship with God or with Christian fellowship. Take time to heal, seek wise counsel, and remember that you deserve to be treated with dignity wherever you worship.

You do not have to resolve every disagreement before taking a step towards a healthier spiritual life.

4. Grief, Memory and the Questions We Cannot Answer

Grief has a way of bringing old questions back to the surface.

The loss of my mother remains deeply personal to me. Certain dates, memories and reflections can bring a mixture of love, sadness and questions that have never been fully answered.

At times, I have wondered whether I disappointed her. I have revisited memories of her final moments and questioned things I cannot now establish with certainty.

But wondering about something does not make it true.

I cannot rewrite the past. I cannot know every thought another person carried in their heart. And I cannot fairly condemn myself or someone I loved on the basis of unanswered questions.

What I can do is acknowledge my grief, remember the relationship we had, and allow myself to recognise that love and human relationships are often more complicated than the conclusions we draw when we are hurting.

The losses experienced by people close to me have also reminded me how much pain can remain hidden beneath the surface of an ordinary day.

We do not always know what another person is carrying.

That is one reason I believe we should be careful with our words and generous with our compassion. A person who appears withdrawn, discouraged or unsuccessful may be fighting battles we know nothing about.

Sometimes the most valuable thing we can offer another person is not an explanation, a lecture or a quick solution.

Sometimes it is simply the willingness to listen.

5. The Work of My Hands and the Vision in My Heart

Despite my difficulties, I have not stopped writing.

I have not stopped learning, developing ideas or working on my computer. My projects continue to grow, and my vision remains important to me.

PlebWare and PlebMachine represent years of thought, experimentation, problem-solving and persistence. What began as an idea has developed into substantial work involving software, desktop environments, documentation, design and a broader vision of how people can interact with their computers.

There are still obstacles. There are frustrating days when something refuses to work as expected, when I have to reconsider an approach, or when the distance between my vision and my present circumstances seems enormous.

But I keep returning to the work.

I enjoy the process of learning something new, solving a problem and turning an idea into something that can actually be used. I know that I have developed skills over the years, and I am still improving them.

I do not know exactly where these projects will lead. I would like my work to become more financially sustainable, and I continue to look for ways to make that possible. I do not want to pretend that dedication alone guarantees commercial success.

But uncertainty about the outcome does not make the work meaningless.

There is value in learning. There is value in creating something useful. There is value in persevering through difficulties and sharing what we discover with others.

I am reminded of Ephesians 2:10:

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.” — Ephesians 2:10, KJV

I do not interpret this passage as a promise that every personal project will succeed or that every ambition is automatically God’s plan. Rather, it reminds me that our lives can be directed towards meaningful work and service.

I want my abilities to be useful. I want my writing to communicate something worthwhile. I want my technical work to help people. And I want to continue developing the gifts and experience I have accumulated rather than surrendering them to discouragement.

My circumstances may limit what I can do today, but they do not erase what I have learned or prevent me from taking the next step.

6. My Circumstances Are Not My Identity

There is a difference between acknowledging reality and allowing reality to define our entire identity.

I must acknowledge my financial difficulties. I must be honest about my disappointments. I must recognise where I have made mistakes and where I still need to grow.

But none of those acknowledgements requires me to declare myself a failure as a human being.

I am more than my income.

I am more than the setbacks I have experienced.

I am more than the opinions people have formed about me.

I am more than the things I have not yet achieved.

I am a person with skills, experience, responsibilities, relationships, hopes and the capacity to keep learning. I have made mistakes, as we all have. I have experienced seasons of anger and confusion. I have also experienced kindness, encouragement, opportunities and reasons to be grateful.

All of these things belong to the fuller story.

Second Corinthians 4:8–9 speaks of being troubled, perplexed, persecuted and struck down without being utterly destroyed.

Those words do not deny suffering. They acknowledge it while refusing to treat suffering as the end of the story.

That is the distinction I am trying to hold on to.

I do not need to pretend that I am thriving when I am struggling. I do not need to manufacture a success story before it has happened. I do not need to convince everyone that my future will unfold exactly as I hope.

I need to be honest about where I am, remember what remains true, accept help when I need it and continue to take responsibility for the life in front of me.

There is dignity in that.

There is courage in admitting that we are tired.

There is wisdom in asking for support rather than pretending we can carry everything alone.

And there is hope in recognising that our present circumstances, however difficult, are not necessarily permanent.

7. Still Standing, Still Learning, Still Becoming

I am not writing this article from the finish line.

I am writing it while I am still on the road.

My financial circumstances have not suddenly transformed. My questions about faith and fellowship have not all been answered. My grief has not disappeared, and my projects still require work.

But something has changed in the way I am approaching my circumstances.

I am becoming more positive about the work I do. I am recognising that I have not stopped creating, even during periods when progress felt slow. I am willing to consider reconciliation rather than allowing disappointment to dictate every future decision.

And I am reminding myself that I do not need to wait until life is perfect before I can recognise the value of my own existence.

I can be grateful and frustrated on the same day. I can have faith and still ask questions. I can acknowledge hurt and still seek reconciliation. I can recognise my abilities without pretending to be better than anyone else.

These things are not contradictions. They are part of being human.

To anyone reading this who feels as though life has reduced them to their failures, financial problems, past mistakes or present disappointments, I want to offer this encouragement:

Please do not confuse the season you are experiencing with the entirety of who you are.

If you need help, ask for it. If you need rest, acknowledge it. If you have made mistakes, take responsibility and learn from them. If you have been hurt, give yourself time to heal. If you have questions about God, bring them honestly into your spiritual journey rather than believing that you must hide them.

And if you have a worthwhile dream, do not measure its value solely by how quickly it produces results.

Take the next practical step. Learn what you can. Accept encouragement. Reconsider your approach when necessary. Remain open to opportunities you cannot yet see.

You do not have to conquer the whole mountain today.

Sometimes the victory is simply refusing to believe that this difficult moment is all that your life will ever be.

I am still Otto Brinkmeier. I am still a writer, still a learner, still a developer, still a man of faith who is trying to understand his journey. I have more to learn, more to build, relationships to nurture and decisions to make.

I do not know precisely what the next chapter holds.

But I know that I have not run out of things to contribute, and I will not measure my entire worth by the circumstances in which I currently find myself.

My circumstances describe the season I am walking through. They do not define my worth, erase my abilities or extinguish the vision I carry.

And so I will keep walking.

Not because I have all the answers, but because there is still work to do, still growth to pursue, still love to give, and still reason to hope.

A Closing Reflection

Perhaps the most important lesson I am learning is this:

We do not have to deny our pain to retain our dignity. We do not have to condemn others to tell the truth about our experiences. We do not have to pretend to be strong every moment to continue moving forward.

And we do not have to earn our human worth through achievement.

Our work matters. Our responsibilities matter. Our relationships matter. Our faith matters. But we are not simply the sum of our accomplishments, our income or our failures.

We are human beings, each with a story that is still unfolding.

May we learn to treat ourselves and one another with the compassion that such a truth deserves.

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” — 2 Corinthians 5:7, KJV

Sometimes walking by faith means taking a bold step into the future. Sometimes it means asking for help. Sometimes it means seeking reconciliation. And sometimes it simply means getting up in the morning and taking the next small step, even when we cannot yet see where the road will lead.

I am still on that road.

And I am still moving forward.

Otto Brinkmeier
God’s Journalist — Cody — Dei Scriptor
Sanguine et Igne Veritas Revelata

PlebWare — Technology should remain connected to humanity.

Otto — The Keyboard Is Mightier Than The Pen.

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