When the Blessing Brings the Battle (or why the hard often follows the holy)

There’s a phrase that’s been echoing in my mind lately—one of those truths that quietly rearranges the way you see things:

“All blessings are equally and oppositely opposed.”

I don’t know when I first heard it, but once it landed, I started noticing it everywhere...in scripture, in stories, and in my own lived experience.

Because here’s what I’ve come to believe: when God grants a blessing, something shifts in the eternal. A door opens.

Light pours in.

But almost immediately, something else pushes back.

Not because we’re doing anything wrong, but because we’re finally doing something right.

That became crystal clear to me the day I went back to the temple.

It had been a while. And I won’t go into every detail, but just know—it was a big moment for me. A quiet act of surrender.

A recommitment.

I walked into that sacred space with a heart ready to be aligned again, to be reminded of who I was and whose I was.

But here’s what I didn’t expect: the wave of fear that hit me shortly after.

It wasn’t immediate. It crept in slowly, even while I was still sitting in the Celestial Room. I was wrapped in peace, yes, but underneath that peace was a rising undercurrent of worry I couldn’t ignore.

What if going deeper into my covenants changes my marriage?

What if I lose the connection we’ve built?

What if this part of me creates distance instead of closeness?

I sat there, trying to make sense of the paradox. I had just made a sacred choice, so why did it feel so heavy?

So I turned to the only place that has ever steadied me: the scriptures.

I opened them gently, hoping for something, anything, that would speak to the ache I didn’t quite know how to name. And there it was, clear as day, like a whisper directly to the wrestling in my heart:

“The battle is not yours, but God’s.”

(2 Chronicles 20:15)

That stopped me.

I read it again, slower this time. The battle… is not mine?

It felt strangely personal, like God was reminding me that the fear I was feeling didn’t mean I was on the wrong path. It just meant the enemy had noticed I was walking in the right direction. And that fear I couldn’t shake? That was never mine to carry alone.

I still didn’t have all the answers. Still didn’t know how everything would unfold. But something in me softened. Not because the storm stopped, but because I remembered I wasn’t fighting it on my own.

Maybe the blessing isn’t always accompanied by immediate peace.

Maybe sometimes it’s followed by a storm, not because we did something wrong, but because something sacred just took root.

And when that happens, the adversary notices.

You see it all the time. Someone gains a testimony, and within days they’re handed anti-literature.

A new convert is filled with joy, only to find their family suddenly pushing back.

A woman finally answers a prompting to serve, and then life explodes in ten different directions.

That’s not coincidence.

That’s opposition.

And it’s real.

But here’s what I know with my whole heart:

Opposition doesn’t cancel the blessing. It confirms it.

So if you’ve made a decision to come closer to Christ, if you’ve stepped back into covenant living, if you’ve re-entered the temple, if you’ve begun praying again or reading the Book of Mormon with fresh eyes...and now things feel harder?

Please don’t panic.

Please don’t assume you’re doing it wrong.

You’re not.

You’re stepping into light, and that always stirs something in the dark.

But also...remember this: the battle is not yours. It’s God’s.

Not because you’re strong enough on your own.

Not because you have it all figured out.

But because the One who leads you will also defend you.

The opposition is real, yes. But so is the power of God.

And He never gives a blessing without also offering the strength to carry it.

So keep going.

Keep showing up.

Keep trusting that your choice to return...to remember, to realign...is worth it.

Even when it’s hard.

Especially when it’s hard.