Maybe God Gives His Toughest Battles to His Strongest Soldiers. Or Maybe He’s Just Not Paying Attention.

Trigger warning: This blog includes discussion of faith, death, suffering, and the impact of religious comments made to cancer patients. It may be confronting, especially if you’re religious or have recently experienced a loss.

Maybe I’m not one of His strongest soldiers. Maybe I’m just collateral damage.

“God only gives His toughest battles to His strongest soldiers.”

If you’ve ever had cancer, or watched someone you love go through it, there’s a good chance someone’s said that, or something similar to you. And maybe it came from a place of love. Maybe they didn’t know what else to say. Maybe they thought it would be comforting.

But here’s the truth: for a lot of us, it doesn’t feel comforting. It feels absurd. And if I’m being honest? It pisses me off.

What Kind of God Hands Out Battles Like Prizes?

The idea that there’s some higher power choosing who gets to suffer and calling that suffering a “test” or a “blessing in disguise” is, frankly, messed up. If a friend told you their partner was intentionally putting them through pain and trauma “to make them stronger,” you’d tell them to get out of that relationship. But somehow when it’s God? We’re supposed to call that love?

Tell me how that works.

Is it really strength if I didn’t have a choice? If I’m just showing up and doing what I have to so I can keep living? I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’ve been dragged through hell and back. And I know I’m not alone in that.

So when someone says this is all part of some divine plan, that this pain, this fear, this grief is a “gift” from above, it doesn’t land like comfort. It lands like a big fuck you. It turns my suffering into some kind of spiritual performance, like I should be grateful for it.

I’m not.

Desperate Prayers, Even Without Belief

I’d probably describe myself as somewhere between atheist and agnostic. Although I was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness until I was 14, I don’t go to church. I don’t pray regularly. Cancer hasn’t brought me closer to God, if anything, it’s pushed me further away. When I look at the pain it’s caused not just me, but the people I love… I just can’t imagine a God who would allow that, let alone orchestrate it.

But I’ll be real with you, in my darkest moments, I’ve prayed. Not because I believed, but because I was desperate. I felt like I was dying. I didn’t know what else to do. And even as I did it, I knew it didn’t really make sense. It wasn’t faith, it was panic.

And that desperation made me realise something else: if God really does exist… why should I expect His help, when so many devout, faithful people have begged for it and been met with silence?

I think about the people who prayed in Nazi concentration camps. The children. The parents. The people who believed so deeply, and were tortured anyway. If their prayers didn’t reach God, why would mine?

There’s a quote I came across once, that was etched on the wall of a concentration camp, that’s stuck with me ever since:

“If there is a God, He will have to beg for my forgiveness.”

That line gutted me. Because it says everything I’ve felt but never quite put into words.

Don’t Use Faith as a Weapon

If you’re religious and that gives you strength, I respect that. Truly. Faith can be a powerful source of comfort, especially in chaos. But the moment it’s used to explain away someone else’s suffering? That’s when it becomes harmful.

Here’s what comments like “God has a plan” or “everything happens for a reason” can really sound like to someone with cancer:

• “Your pain is justified because it serves a higher purpose.”
• “You’re not allowed to be angry or hurt, because this is divine.”
• “You should be grateful for this, because it’s making you stronger.”

That’s a lot to ask of someone who’s just trying to stay alive.

You Can Say Less and Mean More

If you want to support someone who’s going through cancer, here’s a radical idea: you don’t need to explain it. You don’t need to wrap it in spiritual language or pretend there’s some cosmic lesson hiding underneath it all.

You can just sit with us in the mess.

You can say:

• “I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
• “This is completely unfair.”
• “I don’t have the right words, but I’m here.”

Because that? That’s real. That’s human. And it doesn’t require anyone to pretend that suffering is noble or divine.

Not Every Battle Is a Blessing

I’m not on some grand journey to find meaning in my cancer. I’m not here to be someone’s lesson or someone else’s inspiration. I’m just a person who got thrown into a nightmare and is trying to survive it. Sometimes that’s all there is.

Maybe there is a God. Maybe there isn’t. But if He is out there, handing out cancer like a pop quiz to test people’s faith or fortitude, then forgive me for not being impressed. That’s not strength, it’s cruelty. And I don’t owe Him my loyalty just because I’m still breathing.

I’m not one of God’s strongest soldiers. I’m a bloke who didn’t ask for any of this. Who’s tired. Who’s angry. Who’s trying his best.

Final Thought

If you’re reading this and feeling like maybe your faith doesn’t fit the pain you’re living through, you’re not alone. It’s okay to question. It’s okay to feel betrayed. And it’s okay to say: this hurts, and no higher power makes that okay.

Some people believe suffering brings them closer to God. For me, it’s made Him harder to believe in at all.

And if He does exist? Then maybe He’s the one with explaining to do.