But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”—2 Corinthians 12:9a (NIV) 

“I’m okay to go home if that’s God’s will for me,” she told me, “but I’m not at peace with leaving behind my husband, children, and grandchildren. They depend on me so much.”

My eyes filled with tears. She faced a potentially life-threatening illness, but only thought of her loved ones. 

Over the last four decades we’ve walked together through many seasons of life. But now my friend faces a future I don’t share. 

As I began to imagine life without her wise counsel and loving presence, a heavy weight of anticipatory grief and loneliness filled my soul. The intensity of these emotions stole my energy and left me apathetic.

In desperation, I turned to the Lord and prayed:

• Please have mercy on me—losing her will be too hard (Philippians 2:27).
• Don’t let me borrow trouble from tomorrow (Matthew 6:34).
• Free me from the weight of this anxiety (1 Peter 5:7).

But nothing lifted the heaviness blanketing my soul. 

The Apostle Paul wrote about a similar situation. He experienced suffering in the form of a tormentor, described as a thorn in his flesh. He prayed three times for the Lord to take it away. Instead, the Lord reminded Paul that His grace would help him endure the hardship:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9a NIV). 

I don’t often link grace with suffering. The Greek word translated as grace, charis, carries the meaning of a favor, or a blessing. Suffering feels like a burden—not a blessing. 

But I sensed the Holy Spirit inviting me to follow Paul’s example and find God’s grace in my own suffering. I’m learning that when we choose to trust God, suffering can be a pathway to unexpected blessings. 

Suffering can connect us to Jesus. 

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30 NIV)

Jesus originally spoke these words to the Jews who felt the burden of trying to follow both the written law and the oral traditions created by the Pharisees. But any kind of suffering can be a heavy, lonely burden to carry. Knowing this, Jesus invites us to share the burden with Him. 

As I meditated on this passage, I envisioned Jesus offering me the other half of His yoke (a wooden harness which allows two animals to pull together). When I placed it on my shoulders, I felt His peaceful presence. And while the weight of my suffering didn’t disappear, it no longer crushed me. 

Suffering can connect us to joy. 

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. (James 1:2-4 NIV) 

It’s easy to think of joy and suffering as incompatible. But Biblical joy is attached to our salvation, not our circumstances. And James reminds us that suffering produces the endurance we need to reach the goal of our faith—the crown of eternal life (James 1:12) This is the joy Jesus modeled when He faced the cross (Hebrews 12:2)

I still don’t want to lose my friend—and I continue to pray for her healing. But with eyes of faith I can trust God. If we are separated, it will be temporary—God promises us eternal life in Heaven. He also promises this trial will produce the endurance we need to get there. And in that I can rejoice.

Most of us would never choose suffering. But all of us will experience it (John 16:33). Because of Jesus and His grace, we can not only endure it, but we can also appreciate the fruit it will produce in our lives.

Father God, thank You for your grace which helps us endure our suffering in this world. As we choose to trust You, we pray to appreciate the unexpected blessings suffering brings. We pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.