Suffering is the great uninvited guest in every human life. It arrives without warning and often without explanation–a diagnosis that changes everything, a relationship that shatters, a loss that leaves you gasping for air, a pain that simply will not relent. If you are reading this in the midst of such a season, you know exactly what it feels like when the ground shifts beneath your feet and the questions press in: Where is God in this? Why is He allowing this? Does He even care?
These are not faithless questions. They are deeply human ones, and Scripture does not shy away from them. The Bible is filled with people who suffered greatly and cried out to God in their anguish–Job on the ash heap, David hiding in caves, Jeremiah weeping over Jerusalem, the psalmists crying out from the depths. The Christian faith does not promise a life free from suffering; rather, it offers something more profound: a God who enters into our suffering with us and brings meaning, hope, and ultimately redemption out of our deepest pain.
Jesus Himself prepared His disciples for this reality. On the night before His crucifixion, He spoke these words:
“These things I have spoken to you, so that in Me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, NASB)
Notice carefully what Jesus does and does not promise. He does not say that in this world we might have tribulation, or that if we have enough faith we will avoid it. He states it as a certainty: “In the world you have tribulation”. But He also offers something extraordinary in the same breath: peace in the midst of tribulation, and the assurance that He has overcome the very world that wounds us. This is the paradox at the heart of the Christian experience of suffering–sorrow and hope held together, not as contradictions, but as companions on the road of faith.
The Hard Question: Why Does God Allow Suffering?
Let us be honest from the outset: Scripture does not give us a neat, tidy answer to why God allows suffering. If you are looking for a formula that will make your pain make sense, you will not find it here–or anywhere in the Bible, for that matter. What Scripture offers instead is something both more humble and more sustaining: a framework for understanding suffering within the larger story of God’s redemptive purposes, and the assurance of God’s presence and goodness even when our questions remain unanswered.
The book of Job is perhaps the most extended meditation on suffering in all of Scripture. Job loses everything–his wealth, his children, his health–and spends the majority of the book arguing with his friends and crying out to God for an explanation. His friends offer the standard religious answers of their day: suffering is punishment for sin, or perhaps a test, or a lesson. Job rejects these explanations because he knows they do not fit his situation. He was a righteous man, and his suffering is not proportional to any wrong he has done.
What is remarkable about the book of Job is what happens at the end. When God finally speaks, He does not explain why Job has suffered. Instead, He reveals Himself–His power, His wisdom, His sovereignty over all creation. God takes Job on a tour of the cosmos, from the foundations of the earth to the storehouses of the snow, from the mountain goats giving birth to the Leviathan in the deep. The message is clear: there is a vast reality beyond human understanding, and God is at work in ways we cannot comprehend.
Job’s response is telling. He does not say, “Now I understand why I suffered.” He says:
“I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear; but now my eye sees You.” (Job 42:5, NASB)
Job’s questions were not answered, but something better happened: Job encountered God. And in that encounter, he found what he needed more than explanations–he found the One who holds all things together.
This is a crucial point for anyone walking through suffering. We often think that understanding why would bring us peace. But Job’s story suggests that what we actually need is not an explanation but a Person. We need to know that God is present, that He is good, and that He is working even in what we cannot understand. As Job himself declared earlier, in one of the most extraordinary statements of faith in all of Scripture:
“Though He slay me, I will hope in Him. Nevertheless I will argue my ways before Him.” (Job 13:15, NASB)
This is not passive resignation. Job is still bringing his arguments to God; he is still wrestling, still questioning. But underneath all of it is a bedrock of trust: even if God takes everything from me, I will hope in Him. This is the kind of faith that is forged in the furnace of affliction–not a faith that pretends everything is fine, but a faith that holds on to God precisely when everything is not.
God’s Presence in the Valley
One of the most powerful promises in Scripture is that God does not abandon us in our suffering. He walks with us through it. The beloved Psalm 23 captures this beautifully:
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4, NASB)
Notice the language carefully. The psalmist does not say he will be spared the valley of the shadow of death. He walks through it. But he walks through it without fear, not because the valley is any less dark, but because the Shepherd is with him. The rod and staff–instruments a shepherd would use to protect his sheep from predators and guide them on the path–become sources of comfort even in the deepest darkness.
This promise of presence runs throughout Scripture. In Isaiah, God declares:
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you.” (Isaiah 43:2, NASB)
Again, the promise is not exemption from the waters or the fire, but presence within them. And this promise reaches its ultimate fulfilment in Jesus Christ. In the incarnation, God Himself entered into human suffering. Jesus was, in Isaiah’s words, “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). He knew hunger, thirst, weariness, betrayal, abandonment, and death. He wept at the tomb of His friend. He sweat drops of blood in the garden of Gethsemane. He cried out from the cross, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”
Because of this, the writer of Hebrews can say:
“For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15–16, NASB)
When you cry out to God in your pain, you are not crying out to a distant deity who cannot comprehend what you are experiencing. You are crying out to One who has walked this road before you. He knows what it is to suffer, and He invites you to draw near with confidence–not because you have it all together, but precisely because you do not. There is mercy for your failures and grace for your need.
The Refining Fire: How Suffering Shapes Us
Scripture speaks not only of God’s presence in suffering but of His purposes through it. This is perhaps the hardest part of the biblical teaching on suffering to accept, because it suggests that our pain is not merely something to be endured but something God uses for our good.
James writes:
“Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1:2–4, NASB)
Similarly, Paul writes:
“And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:3–5, NASB)
Both James and Paul use language that seems almost absurd on first reading: “Consider it all joy”… “exult in our tribulations”. How can anyone rejoice in suffering? The answer lies in what they say next. The joy is not in the suffering itself but in what the suffering produces: endurance, proven character, hope, and ultimately a deeper experience of God’s love.
Think of it this way: no one chooses to go through the refiner’s fire. But the purpose of that fire is not destruction–it is purification. The heat burns away the dross and leaves the gold. Peter picks up this imagery:
“In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honour at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 1:6–7, NASB)
Your faith, tested by fire, is more precious than gold. The trials that threaten to destroy you are actually producing something of eternal value. This does not make the fire hurt any less. Peter acknowledges that his readers are “distressed” by their trials. But it places the suffering within a larger framework of purpose. God is not wasting your pain.
Perhaps no passage captures this tension more beautifully than Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians:
“Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. For momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16–18, NASB)
Paul calls his afflictions “momentary” and “light”–this from a man who was beaten, shipwrecked, stoned, and left for dead. How could he call those afflictions light? Only by setting them against the scale of eternity. Compared to the eternal weight of glory that awaits us, even the most severe sufferings of this life are momentary and comparatively light. This is not a dismissal of suffering but a reframing of it. When we fix our eyes on the unseen eternal realities, our present suffering takes on a different character. It is still painful, but it is not the final word.
The Promise of Romans 8:28
Few verses are quoted more often in times of suffering than Romans 8:28, but it is also frequently misunderstood:
“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28, NASB)
This verse does not say that all things are good. Cancer is not good. The death of a loved one is not good. Abuse, betrayal, and injustice are not good. The verse says that God causes all things to work together for good. There is a profound difference. God is not the author of evil, but He is the master of taking the broken pieces of a fallen world and weaving them into His redemptive purposes.
It is also crucial to notice for whom this promise is given: “to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” This is not a general principle that everything works out for everyone. It is a specific promise to those who are in a covenant relationship with God through Christ. And the “good” that God is working towards is defined in the very next verse: being “conformed to the image of His Son” (Romans 8:29). The ultimate good God is after is not merely our comfort or even our happiness, but our Christlikeness. He is shaping us to be like Jesus.
This means that the “good” God brings from our suffering may not look like what we would have chosen. We might have defined “good” as the removal of the suffering. God may define “good” as the spiritual growth that came through it, the compassion for others it developed, the dependence on Him it fostered, or the testimony of His faithfulness it produced. His ways are higher than our ways, and His definition of good is more glorious than ours.
Power Perfected in Weakness
One of the most counterintuitive truths in Scripture is that God’s power is most fully displayed in our weakness. Paul learned this lesson through his famous “thorn in the flesh”–some form of suffering that he pleaded with God to remove:
“And He has said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.’ Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9–10, NASB)
Three times Paul asked God to remove the thorn. Three times God said no. But in that no was a gift: the revelation that God’s grace was sufficient, and that His power would be perfected in Paul’s weakness. This turned Paul’s entire perspective upside down. Instead of resenting his weaknesses, he began to boast in them, because they had become the very venue where Christ’s power was displayed most clearly.
This is profoundly good news for anyone who feels weak in the midst of suffering. You do not need to be strong. You do not need to have it all together. Your weakness is not a barrier to experiencing God’s power–it is the very condition in which His power operates most freely. When you have come to the end of yourself, you are exactly where grace can meet you.
Bringing Our Pain to God in Prayer
One of the most important practices for sustaining faith in times of suffering is prayer. Not the kind of prayer where we put on a brave face and pretend everything is fine, but the kind of prayer where we pour out our hearts to God in all their rawness and desperation.
The Psalms model this kind of prayer for us. The psalmists do not sanitise their emotions. They cry out, “How long, O Lord?” (Psalm 13:1). They ask, “Why have You forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). They confess, “My tears have been my food day and night” (Psalm 42:3). This is honest prayer–the kind of prayer that acknowledges where we really are rather than where we think we should be.
Paul encourages this kind of prayer:
“Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6–7, NASB)
Notice that Paul does not say our requests will be granted exactly as we ask them. What he promises is peace–the kind of peace that surpasses all comprehension, that guards our hearts and minds even when our circumstances have not changed. Prayer does not always change our situation, but it always opens us to the peace of God’s presence in the midst of our situation.
And here is perhaps the most comforting truth about prayer in suffering: even when we do not know how to pray, the Spirit prays for us:
“In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words; and He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because He intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.” (Romans 8:26–27, NASB)
There will be moments in suffering when you have no words. When all you can do is groan. In those moments, the Spirit is groaning with you, interceding on your behalf according to the will of God. Your wordless anguish is prayer. Your exhausted tears are prayer. The Spirit takes your weakness and translates it into intercession.
The Gift of Christian Community
God has not designed us to walk through suffering alone. The church–the body of Christ–exists in part so that we can carry one another through the darkest valleys. Paul instructs:
“Bear one another’s burdens, and thereby fulfil the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2, NASB)
When you are in the midst of suffering, there may come a point where you cannot carry your own burden. Your faith feels too weak, your prayers too feeble, your hope too dim. This is when you need brothers and sisters who will carry you. They will pray when you cannot pray. They will believe when you struggle to believe. They will sit with you in silence when words fail.
If you are suffering, one of the most important things you can do is resist the temptation to isolate. Reach out. Let people in. Allow your church family to love you in tangible ways. And if you are not currently suffering, look around for those who are. Be the hands and feet of Christ to them. Bring meals. Show up. Listen without offering easy answers. Pray with and for them. This is what the body of Christ is for.
The Anchor of God’s Faithfulness
In the midst of suffering, when everything else feels uncertain, there is one thing that remains absolutely fixed: the faithfulness of God. Jeremiah discovered this even in the depths of his lament over the destruction of Jerusalem:
“The LORD’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:22–23, NASB)
Notice the context: Jeremiah is writing from the ruins of everything he knew. His city has been destroyed, his people slaughtered or exiled. And yet, in the middle of that devastation, he declares God’s faithfulness. Not because his circumstances were good, but because he knew something deeper: God’s character does not change. His mercies are new every morning, even when our mornings dawn over a landscape of loss.
The psalmist echoes this unshakeable confidence:
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea.” (Psalm 46:1–2, NASB)
Even if the earth gives way, even if the mountains fall into the sea, God remains our refuge and strength. This is not denial of the seriousness of our troubles. It is the assertion that God is bigger than our troubles, and that His faithfulness will hold us when everything else is shaking.
God has also given us His own promise:
“I WILL NEVER DESERT YOU, NOR WILL I EVER FORSAKE YOU.” (Hebrews 13:5, NASB)
Never. Ever. This is the anchor for your soul in the storm.
An Eternal Perspective
Ultimately, the Christian hope in suffering rests on eternity. This life, with all its pain and sorrow, is not the final chapter. There is a day coming when God will make all things new, when every tear will be wiped away, when death and mourning and crying and pain will be no more (Revelation 21:4).
Paul could face his sufferings with courage because he held them against the scale of eternity:
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” (Romans 8:18, NASB)
This is not escapism. It is not pretending that our present suffering does not matter. It is seeing our present suffering in its proper proportion. The sufferings of this present time are real, but they are temporary. The glory that awaits us is beyond anything we can imagine, and it is eternal.
If you are in the midst of suffering, hold on to this: your pain will not last forever. There is a day coming when God will set all things right. Every injustice will be addressed. Every loss will be redeemed. Every wound will be healed. And you will dwell in the presence of the One who suffered for you, forever.
Standing on Solid Ground
Faith in times of suffering is not a matter of having all the answers. It is not about being strong or maintaining a cheerful attitude. It is about holding on to the One who holds all things together, even when we cannot see how.
You may not understand why God has allowed this season of suffering in your life. You may never understand, this side of eternity. But you can know this: God is with you in it. He is working through it for purposes you cannot yet see. He has given you His Spirit to intercede when you cannot pray, His people to carry you when you cannot walk, and His promise that He will never, ever leave you.
The suffering of this world is real. But so is the God who has overcome it. Take courage. He has overcome the world.
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All Scripture quotations are from the New American Standard Bible (NASB) 1995 edition.