When I was in college, I tried an exercise that shifted my perspective. I took a piece of paper, drew a line down the middle, and labeled one side “Good” and the other “Bad.” Then, I listed all the good things that had happened in my life on one side and all the bad things on the other. Why do we do exercises like this? I call it taking inventory.

Sometimes, we have a vague sense of where we stand, like casually eyeballing the inventory of a warehouse. But an auditor doesn’t rely on “a general sense.” They demand precision. Every item must be counted, every value assessed. The result? A balance sheet, a snapshot of health, whether for a business or personal finances.

This exercise forced me to move beyond feelings and take an honest, detailed account of my life.

When I finished, my “Good” list was short: I was born (this felt debatable at the time), I was breathing, I had supportive people in my life, and I had made it to college. The “Bad” list, though, was massive, easily three times as long. Maybe we’re wired to see the bad more clearly, or perhaps the weight of those moments magnifies their significance. Either way, it felt accurate because of how heavy it all seemed.

That’s when a revelation hit me, one that didn’t fully sink in until years later: there are good things that happen to us, and there are gold things. Did you catch that?

The Good and the Gold

The good things are the blessings we can easily recognize, being alive, having support, achieving milestones.

The gold things, though? They’re the trials, the struggles, the hardships. These moments refine us, shaping us into something stronger, wiser, and more resilient.

Here’s how scripture frames it:

James 1:2-4 - "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

As a young person enduring daily trauma, while showing up at church, presenting the façade that “it’s all good,” and privately, at times, wanting to die—I couldn’t fully grasp the lessons being sown in my heart. There was no way I could have.

But those moments, the prayers, the sermons, the silent reflections, were quietly preparing me for a deeper understanding. What I thought was “bad” wasn’t just a burden to carry. It was gold waiting to be unearthed, a treasure buried beneath the surface of struggle, waiting for me to recognize its value.

Reframing the Bad as Gold

Why call it gold and not bad? Because I needed to balance the ledger of my life. A balance sheet reflects the health of something, and I couldn’t let the “Bad” column outweigh the good. I had to reframe those “bad” moments as gold.

Here’s the truth: every trial we endure has the potential to refine us. The testing of our faith produces perseverance, and perseverance equips us for greater things.

When I looked at my so-called “bad” moments, I began asking myself:

• What am I supposed to learn from this?
• Once I’ve learned, who am I supposed to share this with?

The gold isn’t just for us. It’s meant to profit others. My trials became insights, and those insights became breakthroughs—not just for me, but for the people I’ve had the privilege to walk with. Their balance sheets, their lives, might grow richer because of what I’ve been through.

Reflecting on the Gold

Good things happen to us. Gold things happen to us.

We learn the most when we pause, reflect, and glean insights from the gold. That’s how we profit, mentally, spiritually, physically, and even financially. And that profit doesn’t stop with us. It extends to our relationships, our communities, and our shared futures.

So, the next time you’re overwhelmed by the weight of your “bad” list, consider this: what if it’s gold waiting to be refined? What if it’s the very thing that will add lasting value to your life, and someone else’s?

Take inventory. Count the good and the gold. And let it balance the sheet of your life.