Trusting Romans 8:28- God Can Use Your Pain For Good

My story is one of love and loss, pain and hope, and ultimately, of healing through faith. It begins like many stories—with dreams and plans for a happy, fulfilled life. I grew up in a loving home, with parents who laid a foundation of faith and filled our lives with love, laughter, and stability.

But life took an unexpected and heartbreaking turn.

When I met Rick in college, we fell in love and were excited for what the future held. Four years into our marriage, we were ready to start a family. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until my seven-month checkup, when the doctor’s words sent shockwaves through my world: “I’m having trouble getting a normal heartbeat from your baby.” Those words shattered our hopes and left us facing a reality we never expected. Our baby had a severe heart condition, and the prognosis was bleak.

The months that followed were filled with uncertainty.

There were days when I wondered how I would survive such heartbreak if my baby didn’t survive. I carried my baby to term, praying every step of the way, but knowing that my baby’s life might be incredibly short. Matthew Aaron Hacker was born on January 20, 1990, and for three beautiful, yet heart-wrenching days, we held our precious son. Despite how perfect he looked, his condition was incurable. In the most difficult situation, a parent could ever face, we had to let him go. My heart was shattered in ways I didn’t think could ever heal.

The days after Matthew’s death were a blur of grief. I struggled with the physical reminders of childbirth—my body still healing, my milk coming in, but no baby to hold. Walking past his empty room was unbearable. A hollowness inside me felt endless, as though I might never find joy again.

I clung to my faith during those dark months, even when it felt fragile.

I didn’t have the strength to carry on, but God gave me His strength. My heart was broken, but in my brokenness, I leaned on Him more than ever before.

Romans 8:28 became my lifeline: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

I couldn’t understand why this had happened, but I held on to the promise that somehow, someday, God would use this pain for good.

One week after Matthew’s birth, we scattered his ashes on Mount Diablo in Northern California, where we were living at the time. As we stood on that mountain, grief overwhelmed us, and I asked God with outstretched arms to give us a sign that we would get through this nightmare. At that very moment, the clouds parted and a beam of sunlight broke through. In that brief moment, I felt a flicker of hope—God’s quiet assurance that we weren’t alone in our suffering. My mom later told me that a rainbow had arched over the mountain the entire time we were up there. It felt like God’s divine promise, reminding me of His presence and His faithfulness, even in the midst of our sorrow.

The months following Matthew’s death were some of the hardest of my life, but gradually, the fog of grief began to lift. On what would have been Matthew’s first birthday, I found out I was pregnant again. But joy quickly turned to heartache when I miscarried that baby just six weeks later.

Once again, our hopes were crushed, and I found myself asking God, “Why?”

But God had a plan. In 1992, our son Ryan was born, followed two years later by our daughter Avery. Both were healthy and perfect in every way. We felt overwhelmed by the blessing of our children, but the question of why we had to endure so much pain lingered.

In 1995, we moved to Southern California and attended a service at Saddleback Church, where we learned about a support group called Empty Arms for parents who had lost babies. We immediately knew this was where we needed to be. Rick and I became facilitators of the group, and eventually, we were asked to lead the ministry. Matthew’s short life had a purpose after all.

His life and the baby we miscarried became the foundation for us helping others navigate their grief for nearly three decades.

It was through this journey that I began to understand 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 in a deeply personal way: “What a wonderful God we have—He is the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of every mercy, and the one who so wonderfully comforts and strengthens us in our hardships and trials. And why does He do this? So that when others are troubled, needing our sympathy and encouragement, we can pass on to them this same help and comfort God has given us.”

I realized that God had not only comforted me in my time of need but also called me to comfort others who were walking through their own valleys of grief.

Through leading the Empty Arms Ministry, I found purpose in my pain, sharing the same comfort and hope that God had given to me.

Over the years, I’ve experienced more loss, losing seven family members in just six years. Yet through every season of grief, God has been with me. He has given me the strength to keep going, not in my own power, but in His. And through these losses, He gave me a calling to write a book—8:28 Hope in the Darkness—to offer comfort and hope to those walking through their own pain.

Grief is not something we get over; it’s something we learn to live with. But even in the deepest pain, there is hope.

God has been my source of strength, and I believe He can be yours, too. He works all things together for good, even when we cannot see it.

If you are walking through heartbreak today, hold on to Him. He will carry you through, and you will find hope and healing on the other side.

Note: Karen shares her story on the Depth Podcast Episode 198 back in the fall of 2023. October 15th is pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day, and I like to encourage women who are also walking down this hard road. Love the practical tools Karen offers to help those in grief.

Karen Badal Hacker’s story is one of love, loss, faith, healing and hope. Karen has been married to her husband, Rick, for 38 years and their bond has been both tested and strengthened by profound personal losses. Karen is a native Californian, a wife and mother of four—two babies in heaven and two adult children here on earth.

For 28 years, Karen and Rick Hacker have led “Empty Arms,” a grief support group through Saddleback Church in Southern California. This ministry helps couples who have lost babies to miscarriage, stillbirth, and infant death.

Karen is the author of 8:28 Hope in the Darkness, which released March 2024.  In her book, Karen seamlessly blends her personal journey with the timeless truths from Romans 8:28, offering readers a lifeline of hope and resilience during the most trying times. You can connect more with Karen on her website.

Karen and Rick are in the process of establishing a non-profit 501C3, 8:28 Hope in the Darkness. An educational and charitable organization dedicated to providing care, counsel, support and encouragement to grieving people who have suffered loss. Karen is passionate about helping the hurting navigate the difficult times of life by using life experiences, practical applications, understanding and acknowledgment of emotions, a firm foundation of faith, and trusting in God’s promise of Romans 8:28. “And we know that all that happens to us is working for our good if we love God and are fitting into His plans.“