Amid the hardest, most grueling trial I have endured, prayer became my lifeline. During that time, a friend sent me a prayer that I ended up pinning to my bulletin board: “Lord, please lighten my load or strengthen my back.” These became the words I whispered to God throughout the day. I needed God to either lighten the burdens I was carrying or give me strength to endure them. God had to bring change, though I didn’t know in what form. I only knew I couldn’t continue the way things were.

I didn’t often pray “lighten my load or strengthen my back” in one sentence. I usually left a large pause after begging God to lighten my load, since that was what I wanted most. I specifically and directly asked for relief — for healing and deliverance, changed circumstances, divine rescue. But if God chose not to heal me, I needed him to strengthen my back so I wouldn’t collapse under the weight of the burden I was carrying. Since I could never be strong enough to hold the heaviness of my trial, I would need to rely on God’s strength.

Lighten My Load

When I scanned the Internet to find a source for my bulletin-board quote, I found no definitive attribution, but I did find many who suggested that it was better not to ask God to lighten our loads. Instead, they said we should just ask him to strengthen our backs. That was an interesting twist on my original quote, and at first it seemed like a more pious request. I wondered if that should have been my prayer.

Yet as I considered that recommendation, it seemed unrealistic and overly spiritual; we don’t often see people in the Bible asking for strength instead of deliverance. Job begged for help (Job 20:20–21). Jeremiah cried out for relief (Jeremiah 14:19–22). David pleaded for rescue (Psalm 69:1–3). Paul persistently asked for his thorn to be removed (2 Corinthians 12:8–9). And Jesus himself entreated the Father to let the cup pass him by (Matthew 26:39). God knows we are dust, and he created us to look to him for everything. So we shouldn’t consider it less spiritual to ask God to lighten our loads. Such a prayer shows we are trusting God with our deep desires, not offering religious words with distant hearts. God knows how great our suffering is.

God wants to relieve our burdens and bids us to give them to him. We are to cast all our burdens and anxieties on him, for he cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). We can come to him when we are weary, and he will take our heavy loads (Matthew 11:28–30). God told the Israelites, “I relieved your shoulder of the burden; your hands were freed from the basket. In distress you called, and I delivered you; I answered you” (Psalm 81:6–7).

“Even in our anguish, we can be assured that if God denies our request, he intends to give us something better.”

Though God knows exactly what we need, he tells us to bring our requests to him. Jesus bids us to ask, seek, and knock. To ask and keep asking. To go to our heavenly Father just as children go to their earthly fathers and ask him for what we want (Matthew 7:7–11). People fell at Jesus’s feet, begging for mercy, throughout the Gospels. Even before they came, Jesus knew what they needed, yet he still asked what they wanted (Mark 10:51). We too can ask specifically for what we want, knowing that God not only hears our prayers but also acts upon them. We are not just offering careless words in case they might help.

So, the prayer “lighten my load” is not a perfunctory one but an earnest desire for God to change our situation. We are bringing him our need, which is all we have to offer. He will do the rest. And when we ask for deliverance and he brings it, we bring glory to God, as he himself declares: “Call upon me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me” (Psalm 50:15).

Strengthen My Back

Yet sometimes there is no deliverance, and God says no. He doesn’t heal our loved one, restore our relationship, or keep us from excruciating pain. We must go through the trial, grieve the loss, and endure the bitter aftereffects. But even in our anguish, we can be sure that if God denies our request, he intends to give us something better. God never asks anything of his people that is not for our best, assuring us that every sorrow will result in our future gain. Nothing that we lose or don’t have could have ultimately been a blessing to us.

This trial we are enduring must have a great blessing for us. Among the many blessings God offers, the most beautiful is keeping us close to Jesus. To that end, God will provide the strength we need in every trial: strength for the battle (Psalm 18:39), strength when we are afraid (Isaiah 41:10), strength when we are exhausted (Isaiah 40:29–30), and strength to be content whatever the result (Philippians 4:13).

Yet strengthening our back does not necessarily make us physically stronger or able to withstand the next trial on our own without God’s help. The strength God provides doesn’t make us self-sufficient but rather enables us to see how much we need God. When God strengthens our back, we know how and where to get help. Our help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth (Psalm 121:2). As opposed to physical muscles, the strength we receive can be compared to muscle memory, reminding us to cry out to our God. We seek the Lord and his strength rather than depending on our own (Psalm 105:4).

Strong in Weakness

The apostle Paul recounted several trials in which he cried out to God for relief. An affliction in Asia laid such a staggering burden on Paul and his companions they thought they were going to die. But rather than destroying them, this trial taught them to rely not on themselves and their strength but on God who raises the dead (2 Corinthians 1:8–9).

Paul struggled with a thorn in his flesh that he pleaded with God to remove. Rather than taking it away, God answered, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). When Paul saw that God’s power intensified in his weakness, he declared, “When I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10).

Like Paul, we learn that having the grace to endure our afflictions can be a greater gift than having our afflictions removed. Once we’ve seen and experienced the immense power of God in suffering, we know that God will unfailingly provide all we need, regardless of what happens. With that assurance, we can find joy either in extraordinary deliverance from our trials or in greater dependence on God through them.

God encourages us to cry out to him for whatever we need; he wants us to bring our troubles to him. He may lighten our load and miraculously deliver us, bringing long-prayed-for rescue and relief. Or he may strengthen us in the battle, offering his sustaining grace, the grace that draws us back to him. Both answers turn us to God and deepen our faith, teaching us to trust him through affliction and to glorify him through whatever comes.

When I’m crying out, “How long, O Lord?” my pain has already outlasted my patience. I want deliverance — now. Today. To me, “How long, O Lord?” means “Lord, this trial has outstayed its welcome. Please fix it and restore me right away.”

Maybe you’ve felt that way too.

Yet even when our suffering feels endless, God knows exactly how long it will really last. It has an end date, an exact day and time predetermined by God. My pain will not last forever; it is not random or indeterminate. God has fixed all the details of this trial and will give me everything I need to endure it.

No Longer Than Necessary

The truth that all my suffering has an end date buoyed me years ago, when my life was in turmoil. Every day, the weight of my problems seemed heavier; tears would well up without warning. I saw no way out, and I wondered how much longer the pain would continue — and whether I could hold out until then.

Then one day I heard a speaker on the radio quote Warren Wiersbe, who said, “When God puts his own people into the furnace, he keeps his eye on the clock and his hand on the thermostat. He knows how long and how much” (Bible Exposition Commentary, 3:51).

God knows how long and how much. Those words brought indescribable relief. He knew how intense the furnace was, and he knew when relief would come. The furnace wouldn’t be hotter or longer than was necessary.

Every Minute Is His

Throughout Scripture, we see God predetermine the length of his people’s suffering. Before Abraham had children, God told him that his offspring would be enslaved in a foreign land, “afflicted for four hundred years” (Genesis 15:13), after which we know God delivered the Israelites through Moses. God told Jeremiah that the Israelites would serve the king of Babylon for seventy years (Jeremiah 25:11), and then a remnant was brought back. Jesus told the church of Smyrna that they would have ten days of tribulation, but not to fear their suffering (Revelation 2:10). In each case, the adversity was both necessary and purposeful.

We often think of time so differently, certain that if God has promised to deliver us, it should happen right away. Perhaps people in the Bible felt that way too: Abraham waited 25 years for Isaac, Moses waited 40 years in the wilderness, David waited 15 years before becoming king. God’s timetable rarely coincides with ours.

Yet even when our deliverance seems slow, we can be certain that it is not delayed. Our rescue will not and cannot be too late, for every minute of our suffering has been appointed (Habakkuk 2:3).

In Pain on Purpose

Recognizing that our suffering is for a limited time, and that it is necessary, has radically shifted my perspective while in pain. Knowing there is a purpose, a purpose intended for my good (Romans 8:28), has helped me to endure the hardest of days. My faith will be purer, stronger, and more genuine after going through the fire, and that benefit will carry into heaven, resulting in praise, honor, and glory (1 Peter 1:6–7; 2 Corinthians 4:17; Romans 8:18). My suffering will not be wasted.

And every detail is known to God, who has predetermined how far each trial will go and every blessing I will gain as a result. As Charles Spurgeon said,

In all sickness, the Lord saith to the waves of pain, “Hitherto shall ye go, but no further.” His fixed purpose is not the destruction, but the instruction of his people.

The limit is encouragingly comprehensive. The God of providence has limited the time, manner, intensity, repetition, and effects of all our sicknesses; each throb is decreed, each sleepless hour predestinated, each relapse ordained, each depression of spirit foreknown, and each sanctifying result eternally purposed. Nothing great or small escapes the ordaining hand of him who numbers the hairs of our head.

This limit is wisely adjusted to our strength, to the end designed, and to the grace apportioned. . . . The limit is tenderly appointed. The knife of the heavenly Surgeon never cuts deeper than is absolutely necessary. (Morning and Evening, August 17)

In Christ, the waves of our pain have a limit, a boundary that God has set. And the pain itself is purposed for our gain, to teach us and to bless us. While suffering hardly feels anything like a blessing in the moment, knowing that every ounce of my pain has been predetermined and weighed, adjusted to my strength, tenderly appointed and absolutely necessary, has helped me withstand it. Though I do not and cannot know all the reasons that my suffering has been necessary, I can trust that every trial is working for my benefit.

There Is Still Today

Though we know that the end is already determined, and each morning brings us one day closer to that end, there is still today, looming ahead with pain and suffering. How do we make it through today?

First, we can remember that God will prove himself far better than we fear; he will do far more in this trial than we can imagine. There will be blessings along the way — every single day, without exception — and God will give us comfort and signs of his love. We just need to look for them.

Then we can resolve to live one day at a time — to stop thinking about tomorrow and the difficulties it may bring, to stop anticipating tomorrow’s struggles, wondering how we will manage. Today’s troubles are enough. Tomorrow may bring incredible deliverance, a reversal of our pain and loss. Our fears and worries could be needless, as God may give us miraculous rescue.

“Even when our deliverance seems slow, we can be certain that it is not delayed.”

Or tomorrow may bring deeper suffering and, with it, deeper grace. Either could be true, as none of us knows what tomorrow will bring. What we have is today. God gives us grace for today. God provides for our needs today. God grants strength for today. And he will continue to give us the strength that we need, just as he has promised: “As your days, so shall your strength be” (Deuteronomy 33:25). Nothing we endure can outlast or outstrip the grace of God.

Hunt for Grace

After all, his grace surrounds us even now, even as we suffer. Philip B. Power, a pastor in the 1800s whose public ministry was cut short due to ill health, said,

God will not send trial without the intention of blessing; therefore, where the trial is great, we may be sure that the blessing intended is great also. If the trial were to be allowed to lengthen itself out beyond the possibility of fruit bearing, it would become simply an evil, an objectless infliction. Therefore, say to yourself, “This day’s trial could not be spared. God has still further blessing in store for me.” (A Book of Comfort for Those in Sickness, 80)

Look for the blessing. Look for God’s hand. Look for his comfort. They are all there. We can be certain that even when we’re overwhelmed and crying out for relief, God has something wonderful in store for us. He will not leave us desolate in our suffering — ever. He brings new mercies every morning (Lamentations 3:22–23). We may not know what the day will bring, but we do know that it will bring God’s comfort and presence. It cannot but be so.

So, if you are feeling overwhelmed by your suffering, crying out to God, “How long, O Lord?” be assured that he knows exactly how long. He will not let you suffer one minute beyond what is necessary and never delays his deliverance for you. God is never cruel.

And today, in your suffering, God’s grace will give you everything you need to endure it, as well as perfectly timed blessings in your endurance. You may not know when your pain will end, but you can be assured that the end has already been appointed, and the result will always be for your good.

What is the point of suffering in obscurity?

That question haunted me for years. I wondered if there was any purpose to the days, months, and even decades of pain that no one witnessed. My suffering wasn’t neat and tidy, with a definite beginning, a short duration, and a clear purpose. It dragged on till I was tempted to give up hope and to rage against my circumstances. I questioned whether my faithfulness was pointless. I assumed my private response to suffering was ultimately inconsequential.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

“Our suffering is, in fact, never private, because everything we do and say is being watched by the unseen world.”

I’ve since learned that, instead of being insignificant, our private suffering carries massive significance, with far-reaching, eternal consequences. Our suffering is, in fact, never private, because everything we do and say is being watched by the unseen world, a world of angels and demons, of powers and principalities, of a great cloud of witnesses and our triune God himself. While this may sound unnerving to some, knowing we’re surrounded by all these unseen spectators has inspired me to press on through my own pain.

The Watching (Unseen) World

I may feel like no one sees or knows what I’m going through, but in reality, we are all on a giant battleground, where angels and demons are craning their necks to see what they can learn about God through us. They are watching to see how God helps us, how his presence dispels our fears, and how he inspires our worship. Our lives are on full display. This isn’t sci-fi fantasy or some reassuring myth designed to ease our pain and loneliness. No, the stunning truth that we are constantly being watched is firmly grounded in Scripture.

We know we’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1), which includes “watchers,” heavenly beings, who see what is happening on earth (Daniel 4:13, 17). Satan is also watching us, accusing us before God (Zechariah 3:1; Revelation 12:10), as he did Job (Job 1:6–12), while his fallen angels, “the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places,” carry out his schemes (Ephesians 6:12). Satan wants us to doubt God’s goodness and to believe that God’s value is tied to the material blessings he gives. So, when we bless God in the midst of trial, we are showing Satan and his demons the greatness and worth of the God they rejected.

Many of the heavenly beings are angels who watch us closely, and God sends them in response to our prayers (Daniel 9:21–23), often encircling us in a protection we cannot see (2 Kings 6:17; Psalm 34:7). They rejoice when sinners repent (Luke 15:10) and peer intently into our lives to understand the mysteries of God (1 Peter 1:12).

I first heard about the unseen world’s attention from John Piper when he unpacked the book of Job and highlighted how Job’s faithful response demonstrated the value of God to the heavenly realms. I saw that my response to suffering mattered — not just for me, but because a watching world (a world that I can neither see nor hear) was waiting to see how I would respond to trials. My life is for God’s glory, and when I find contentment in God rather than in his gifts, I am spotlighting God’s worth to an immense, invisible audience. And that spotlight shines even brighter when I’m racked with pain, or too exhausted to move, or feeling enveloped by a deadening numbness and still choose to praise God.

Displaying Wisdom to the Heavens

Ephesians 3:10 beautifully underscores this truth. God’s grace was given to Paul to preach the riches of Christ and the mystery of the gospel “so that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.” This means that through the church, through you and me, God’s wisdom is made known to the heavenly realms. The angels and demons learn about God through watching us respond to affliction.

Charles Spurgeon gives us a stirring picture of how the angels are learning through us:

As every day brings to us our daily bread, so every day brings to heaven its daily theme of wonder, and the angels receive fresh stores of knowledge from the ever-new experience of the people of God. They lean from the battlements of heaven today to gaze on you, ye tried believers; they look into your furnace as did the King of Babylon, and they see the fourth man with you like unto the Son of God. They track you, O ye children of Israel in the wilderness; they see the places of your encampment and the land to which you are hastening; and as they mark the fiery cloudy pillar that conducts you and the angel of God’s house that leads the van and brings up the rear, they discover in every step of the way the wonderful wisdom of God. (“Another and a Nobler Exhibition”)

As the unseen world watches us, they see God’s grace sustain us, his power deliver us, and his comfort encourage us. They see us bless God in sickness and in health, and they witness God’s manifold wisdom as he uses everything in our lives for good. With all these watchers, our faithfulness has a cosmic impact. We shake the universe by choosing to bless God in the midst of trial, showing that God really is our treasure, even now, and that he’s worthy of worship.

We Never Suffer Alone

Joni Eareckson Tada demonstrates this reality better than anyone I know. She once said to me in an interview, “I think about Ephesians 3:10 when I’m in pain at night, and I remember a great many somebodies are watching. They are observing me. I want my life to be the blackboard upon which God chalks these incredible lessons about himself. I don’t want to do anything to defame God or make him look untrustworthy.”

At the True Woman 2010 conference, she reiterated that idea, saying, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been able to press on because I know my life is on display. We don’t suffer for nothing, and we never suffer alone. . . . My response to hardship is never isolated. It is not true that no one cares or notices. The stakes are high, and God’s reputation is on the line. It’s all for God’s glory.”

As Joni reminds us, every day we can choose to show the surpassing value of Christ to the unseen watching world. We can glorify God when we are unfairly accused and choose to respond with grace. When we are worried about a loved one and choose not to fear. When we are racked with physical or emotional pain and choose to praise God through our tears. These choices all matter, because a heavenly host is watching.

Your Suffering Really Matters

While we have the honor of proclaiming the greatness of our God to the universe, sometimes we feel too broken or weak to care. Suffering has worn us down, and we need the comfort of Christ’s love, knowing he has engraved our name on the palms of his nail-scarred hands (Isaiah 49:16). He is tenderly watching over us.

“The angels and demons learn about God through watching us respond to affliction.”

Jesus knows when we sit and when we rise, knows our every thought and every word even before we speak it (Psalm 139:1–4). He sees our silent suffering, is drawing near to us in it, and is ever interceding for us (Romans 8:34). He is praying for us to persevere through the pain, making sure our faith will not fail. He is with us always (Matthew 28:20), and as we are faithful unto death, we may see Jesus standing in heaven to welcome us (Acts 7:55).

In heaven, we will receive a reward for our faithfulness. A reward tied to what we’ve endured, since we are assured our suffering on earth is producing something, preparing for us an unimaginable weight of glory that we will one day experience (2 Corinthians 4:17).

So, don’t believe the lie that your suffering doesn’t matter, that no one is watching, and that there’s no point to your faithfulness. While it may seem like you’re suffering alone in a dark room, you’re actually on an enormous stage with innumerable eyewitnesses. And the stakes are higher than you think. So press on. Fight with joy. Remain faithful. Our lives are on display.

I feel helpless as I watch and wait with my friends.

Friends with debilitating chronic pain who have no contact with the outside world. Others with all-consuming family situations that leave them exhausted and desperate, with no end in sight. Still more whose lives have been marked by disappointment, by shattered dreams and unfulfilled longings that keep escalating.

As I watch and wait, pray and grieve, I also wonder whether heaven will bring added reward for those who persevere in suffering. Will there be any compensation for those who respond to the loss and the emptiness by leaning into God for fulfillment? Will there be any prize for the sufferer who looks to God for the grace to endure the physical or emotional pain that screams through the night?

Rewards in Heaven?

When I first heard the idea of “rewards in heaven,” I wondered whether it was inconsistent with the doctrine of grace. But then I saw that Scripture is full of references to different rewards in heaven — all of them in response to the working of God’s grace within us.

Among the various rewards Scripture mentions, some will come from the foundation we build on and the work we’ve done (1 Corinthians 3:11–15), and others will be related to our perseverance in afflictions, which are producing unrivaled glory for our future selves. As 2 Corinthians 4:16–17 reminds us, “We do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.”

Paul didn’t grow weary in his suffering or lose heart, as God was renewing him daily and assuring him of the coming glory. And Paul understood pain: he was brutally beaten, scourged, and stoned; at points he was near starvation; he was continually burdened for the churches (2 Corinthians 11:23–29). Yet he knew that his pain had a purpose.

The Greek word for “preparing” in 2 Corinthians 4:17 (katergazomai) means “producing, accomplishing, or achieving.” Paul knew affliction would bring about or produce something magnificent later on. Suffering not only develops perseverance and character, teaches us to rely on Christ, enables us to comfort others, and refines our faith on earth; it also results in greater coming glory.

Everyday Surrenders

This hope applies not just to extraordinary suffering like Paul’s, but to all suffering that we surrender to God. When we turn to God and not to the world in our pain, when we bless God rather than curse him, when we trust his goodness rather than doubt his love, we store up heavenly reward. It will draw us closer to Christ today and will result in greater glory later. As John Piper says,

All our troubles — all of them — are on a continuum from easy to horrible . . . whether it is a pimple on prom night to the loss of a child. . . . Any trouble, from the smallest hiccup to the greatest horror . . . [has] the potential for working for us an eternal weight of glory, because the issue is this: Does it throw us on God as our help and our treasure and our joy?

The first time I realized the importance of acknowledging and offering every loss to the Lord was in a conversation with Joni Eareckson Tada. We were having dinner, and I noticed how she couldn’t have each bite of food quite as she wanted, couldn’t get her coffee at exactly the right temperature. When I mentioned it, Joni responded, “With quadriplegia, nothing is exactly the way I want it. But it’s all these little decisions, these everyday things I surrender, the choices I make daily, that will one day shine in glory. These will all count.”

While Joni has been through monumental suffering, our conversation reminded me that she faces the everyday choice, just as we do, to turn to God and depend on him in loss and disappointment. From the unexpected layoff before the holidays, to the relentless sickness that confines us to bed for days, to living for years with a cold and disengaged spouse — in all these trials, as we lay them before the Lord and ask for grace to endure, not only will we grow in our faith, but we’ll also store up a reward.

Broken Ankles to Final Cries

God sees all our suffering. He tenderly cares for us in it. He knows every sleepless night, every unspoken hurt, every agony we endure. We are seen, known, and loved by the God who brings purpose to all our pain.

Even seemingly unseen suffering at the end of our lives has a purpose. While this pain may not change our character or be an earthly example to anyone, God is witness. And as he watches what we endure, our faith will glorify him and receive a reward. As John Piper, addressing those suffering in their final hours, would say,

As God gives you the grace to endure to the end without cursing him, resting in him as much as you can, these next twenty hours are going to make a massive, precious difference in the weight of the glory you experience on the other side. These hours are not pointless. . . . They won’t make your character here shine because you are going to be gone. There will be no character left to shine. But as soon as you cross that line from now to eternity, in some way God is going to show you why those twenty hours were what they were and what they did for you. That’s good news.

This is great news for all of us. All our suffering matters. All our losses and longings, as we turn to Christ in them, will produce a reward for us. From a sprained ankle to a life-changing diagnosis, from the daily sacrifices of quadriplegia to the painful last hours of life, none of it will be wasted.

Sorrow Turned to Joy

One of the greatest joys we can experience is the joy of restoration after loss. Both Psalm 126 and John 16 — the two chapters in the Bible that use the word joy most frequently (in the ESV’s translation) — are about restoration. Psalm 126 says, “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. . . . Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!” (Psalm 126:1, 5). And John 16 says, “You will weep and lament . . . but your sorrow will turn into joy. . . . Your joy [will] be full” (John 16:20, 24).

Jesus tells us that the joy of finding the lost coin is greater than the joy of never losing it. The joy of finding the lost sheep is greater than the joy of simply staying with the sheep in the pen. And the joy of a repentant sinner leads to more joy in heaven among the angels (Luke 15:7). While no one seeks loss, restoration brings us more joy. For everything we’ve suffered, every loss we’ve endured, every unfulfilled desire for which we’ve longed, our joy will be that much deeper when it is restored and fulfilled in heaven.

And as Jonathan Edwards says,

It will be no damp to the happiness of those who have lower degrees of happiness and glory, that there are others advanced in glory above them. For all shall be perfectly happy, everyone shall be perfectly satisfied. Every vessel that is cast into this ocean of happiness is full, though there are some vessels far larger than others. And there shall be no such thing as envy in heaven, but perfect love shall reign through the whole society. (Works of Jonathan Edwards, 50:53)

In heaven, no one will begrudge the faithful sufferer’s rewards, because everyone will be overflowing with joy. We all will be fully satisfied, fully happy, completely fulfilled. But some may be larger vessels of happiness, containing more of heaven’s joys, than others. And perhaps the added reward for persevering through affliction will bring this capacity for more joy.

If you are suffering today, whether through a minor setback or a massive tragedy, don’t lose heart. Turn to the Lord Jesus in it, as you ask for grace to endure it. Trust that your struggle is producing an eternal weight of glory that will far surpass your pain. Let God be your treasure even in your affliction. And as you trust him to the end, your reward will be great.

I’ve been told that suffering cannot be God’s will for me. I’ve been advised not even to speak about suffering. I’ve been promised unconditional healing and wholeness if I have enough faith.

These statements came from proponents of the prosperity gospel, people who were convinced I could avoid suffering. I remember telling a fellow believer about my post-polio diagnosis twenty years ago, explaining how eventually I could become a quadriplegic. As I related the various implications, the man interrupted me, saying, “You need to stop talking about this right now. Just speaking of this diagnosis is agreeing with Satan, which might bring it into being. Suffering is never part of God’s will. I know God just wants healing and wholeness for you.”

His words took me aback. While I’d heard the claims before, this conversation triggered a flood of painful memories: being told by a faith healer in a crowded auditorium that I didn’t have enough faith to be healed. Being prayed over by strangers, in places ranging from grocery stores to sporting events, who were convinced they could heal me. Telling a friend about my unborn son’s serious heart condition and being told simply to claim our baby’s healing.

All these people asserted that if we “agreed in prayer” and “bound Satan,” I would be healed, my baby would be healed, the pain would end. They said I needed to believe in faith, warning me never to speak of suffering, fear, or loss.

Even Apostles Misunderstand Suffering

The apostle Peter didn’t want Jesus to speak of his coming crucifixion either. When Jesus told the disciples about his future suffering, death, and resurrection on the third day, Peter rebuked him, saying, “Far be it from you, Lord! This shall never happen to you” (Matthew 16:22). To Peter, it was inconceivable that Jesus would suffer and be killed. That couldn’t be part of God’s plan.

Perhaps Peter instinctively rebuked Jesus because Jesus’s words about his suffering and death went against Peter’s understanding of the kingdom of God. Just before, Jesus had told Peter that whatever Peter bound on earth would be bound in heaven, and whatever he loosed on earth would be loosed in heaven (Matthew 16:19). Maybe Peter thought he could override the predictions by speaking against them.

Whatever the reason for Peter’s outburst, Jesus responded with a stinging rebuke: “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me. For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man” (Matthew 16:23).

Jesus’s reaction applies to the false teaching of the prosperity gospel, a doctrine that asserts suffering has no place in the life of a Christian. Proponents of the prosperity gospel often claim that we need to bind suffering on earth and not even speak of it, because affliction can never be God’s will for those who know Christ. They choose isolated verses to undergird their position, stressing a right to perfect health, ignoring the Scriptures that highlight God’s goodness and sovereignty in and through our suffering.

Based on Jesus’s exchange with Peter, I see three ways the prosperity gospel gets suffering wrong.

1. ‘Suffering hinders faith.’

While Peter’s words may seem like a loving reaction, born out of care for Jesus, Jesus saw them as the work of Satan, distracting Jesus from his purpose. Jesus came to suffer and die, and Peter tried to dissuade him from what was God’s will. At the time, Peter didn’t know that Christ’s suffering would save not only Peter, but all who trust in Jesus.

Jesus’s suffering was filled with divine purpose, as is all our suffering. Later, Peter himself would recognize that God calls some people to suffer just as he called Christ (1 Peter 2:21), and that suffering can refine our faith and glorify God (1 Peter 1:6–7).

This doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pray for healing and relief when trouble comes. God tells us to bring him our requests (Philippians 4:6), to pray big prayers and expect big answers (James 5:16), to ask for whatever we want (John 15:7). We know God can bring healing simply by saying the word — he created the universe, calmed the sea, and raised the dead with just his voice. But his answer isn’t always “yes.” If God says “no” or “wait,” as he did to Job, Jesus, and Paul, we shouldn’t conclude that our faith is weak or that we’ve done something wrong.

We can take comfort in the fact that if God denies our earnest requests, he has his reasons — maybe ten thousand reasons — and one day we will rejoice in them. Some of God’s purposes in suffering are to produce endurance, character, and hope in us (Romans 5:3–5). Trials make us steadfast (James 1:3), deepen our reliance on God (2 Corinthians 1:8–9), and help us genuinely comfort others as God has comforted us (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). While we cannot know all that God is doing in our suffering, we can be sure that he works always for our good (Romans 8:28).

2. ‘God always wants comfort for us.’

Jesus’s prediction of his death didn’t make sense to Peter. Jesus had just praised him for recognizing that he was the Messiah (Matthew 16:16–17). Did Peter think that the Messiah would establish an earthly kingdom, a kingdom that Peter would be a vital part of?

“If God denies our requests, he has his reasons — maybe ten thousand reasons — and one day we will rejoice in them.”

Often our view of God’s kingdom is centered on what we want. We are consumed with our plans and our glory, which are grounded in this life. But the things of God center on God’s will and God’s glory, which are grounded in eternity. Like Peter, prosperity-gospel advocates often begin with a fervent faith and revelation from God, but their minds are so focused on worldly blessings that they end up working against God’s purposes. People who cannot accept that suffering and even death can be part of God’s plan have their minds set on the things of man.

How do we set our minds on the things of God? We start by recognizing that his ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8), and only the Spirit knows the deep things of God (1 Corinthians 2:11). We cannot guarantee people’s healing or offer assurances that we know God wills to end their suffering, if only they believe, but we can pray to the Lord on their behalf and trust him with the outcome.

3. ‘This life is all there is.’

Peter’s rebuke of Jesus disregarded the final part of his statement in Matthew 16:21: Jesus would not only die but rise again on the third day. It’s a stunning conclusion, one that outweighs the horror of Jesus’s initial words. Suffering would not have the last word, and death would not hold him. Jesus’s resurrection means a glorious ending to all our earthly pain.

Prosperity-gospel proponents often overlook the weight of glory that is coming in heaven, preferring to concentrate on this life alone. Suffering prepares us for that future glory, perhaps even magnifying our experience of it, and makes us long for heaven (2 Corinthians 4:17).

Eternity is so central to our faith that if heaven does not await us, if this life is all there is, if our hope in Christ is for this life alone, Paul says that “we are of all people most to be pitied” (1 Corinthians 15:19). But if the prosperity-gospel claims are true — that following Jesus always means earthly prosperity — then even if Christ wasn’t raised from the dead, Christians shouldn’t be pitied at all. Heaven would be a bonus, but the material blessings of this life would be reward enough.

Lesson for Us All

Peter had to learn these lessons about suffering, and so do we. For the believer, suffering is not a curse, not an indication of weak faith or a lack of blessing, but rather an integral part of the Christian life. God may discipline us to awaken and refine us, but his discipline is a loving mercy. He uses suffering to shape us into the image of Christ, which the prosperity gospel, in its obsession with physical health and earthly wealth, overlooks.

Jesus suffered on our behalf, and if we follow in his footsteps, we shouldn’t be surprised by our own suffering. In fact, Jesus promised we would suffer, saying, “In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

So, if you are suffering, call out to God. Pray and read the Bible, even when it feels like he’s not listening. If you know others who are suffering, be there for them. Encourage them, pray with them, point them to God’s eternal purposes.

The true gospel doesn’t promise a life free from suffering, but a God who is with us in our suffering, a God who redeems and transforms our griefs and prepares us for eternity. So, set your mind on the things of God, remembering that your ultimate reward is not here on earth, but stored up in heaven, where there will be no more suffering, no more tears, and no more pain.

It’s easy to romanticize physical suffering — especially when you’re not the one experiencing it.

Saints like Amy Carmichael, who spent over twenty years bedridden, and Joni Eareckson Tada, a quadriplegic who lives in constant pain, can evoke peaceful images of unbroken communion with God. We may imagine that it’s easier for them to endure pain and weakness than it is for the rest of us.

Yet the reality of physical suffering is that it’s insistent and intrusive. No one gets used to it. Pain demands our attention. Time slows to a crawl, particularly in the middle of the night, when we’re begging God for the relief of sleep. We feel alone and isolated. No one else can enter the prison that our bodies have become.

Pain Compiles

If that weren’t enough, physical pain rarely exists in isolation — it’s usually accompanied by loss, weakness, and dependence. Often, we require help with basic daily needs, and we worry about the burden we’re putting on others. We second-guess every request, not wanting to bother someone one more time. Will people get tired and think we’re “too much”? Do they resent their lack of freedom?

We longingly remember the carefree days before our physical struggles altered our lives, when we could do what we wanted. Now we measure our energy in teaspoons rather than buckets. We weigh every decision, every action. Saying yes to one activity means saying no to many others. It is hard not to envy those with fit bodies, who seem to have no cares.

Pain, loneliness, and longing can give way to depression and despair. We cry out to the Lord for relief, but relief doesn’t come. The cancer spreads. Sleep eludes us. The pain intensifies. The medicine stops working. The side effects multiply. Our caregivers grow weary. Our friends stop checking in. Our resources run dry.

Doubt Advances

The vibrant faith we once had begins to fade — which is exactly what Satan wants to happen as we suffer. He wants us to doubt and fall away from God, convinced that he is indifferent to our cries. Satan knows that we’re susceptible to discouragement when we’re physically depleted, so that’s when he attacks. As physical needs scream for attention, Satan whispers to us, “Does God even hear you, let alone really care for you? If he does, why isn’t he delivering you?”

“If God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance.”

Insidious doubts slip in, making us question beliefs we once held rock-solid: Are we deeply loved by an all-powerful Father? As soon as we recognize the mental shift, we need to stop and cry out to God, asking him to meet us in our sorrow, to deliver us from our pain, and to show us evidence of his goodness and love. Are we fixating on all that we’ve lost, on how God hasn’t delivered us, on how hopeless we feel? Or do we recognize that God is with us, working for our good, and caring for us each moment?

What we think about in the moments of our deepest pain is critical. Our mindset will determine how we approach the questions that bombard us. Here are three common questions I’ve asked: (1) How can God be “for me” if I’m still suffering? (2) How can God use my weakness for good? and (3) What good can come in moments of overwhelming pain?

1. How can God be ‘for me’ if I’m still suffering?

Sometimes God miraculously delivers us when we plead for relief, like at the parting of the Red Sea. Other times he sustains us, as he did with manna in the wilderness. The Red Sea deliverance freed the Israelites, but their need for manna kept them dependent on God. In gathering manna, they had a harder time forgetting their reliance on God. And if God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance, since it can keep us in constant communion with him.

Take the apostle Paul. He begged God for deliverance from his thorn in the flesh, but instead he received grace — grace to bear the thorn, grace to be content with weakness, grace that would carry him through other trials as well (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).

When we realize that we can depend on God in our weakness, we learn to trust him in everything. Anyone can thank God for quick deliverance from physical suffering, but we often forget him until the next crisis. Yet when he sustains us in our pain, we’re confident that he is with us always.

2. How can God use my physical weakness for good?

We may think our physical weakness is keeping us from maximum fruitfulness, but that’s impossible. Our weaknesses are a part of God’s plan for our lives; they are intertwined with our calling. Paul thought his thorn was hampering his ministry, but God knew that it was the key to his strength: it forced Paul to be wholly dependent on God. When we are depleted and exhausted, lacking any resources of our own — it is then that we fully rely on God.

And in that reliance, we discover the power of God flowing through us — the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19–20). This power keeps us enduring when we want to give up; it showcases God’s glory and brings lasting change. Because Paul relied on God’s provision, he accomplished more for the kingdom with his thorn than he could have without it. His greatest strength lay in his submission to Christ.

Even Jesus’s greatest strength appeared in his greatest physical weakness. Throughout his ministry, Jesus impacted others by his actions. He calmed the storm with a word. He fed five thousand with a few loaves and fish. He cast out demons, healed the sick, and raised the dead. He turned the world upside down.

But at the end of his ministry, from the Last Supper on, Jesus allowed others to act upon him: he was led away, he was whipped and mocked, he was beaten and crucified. When he submitted to his captors, the crowds saw weakness rather than what was really there: Jesus’s strength and power.

Just before these horrific events, Jesus begged God to take the cup of suffering from him. But it was through Christ’s submission to the will of the Father — to torture and humiliation, to physical abuse and carrying his own cross — that God brought about the most astonishing display of his power and grace.

3. What good can come in moments of overwhelming pain?

Even when we’ve experienced God’s grace through our suffering, we may wonder how anything good could be happening as pain steamrolls us. Yet in some inexplicable way, this too can be part of our sacred calling. We can submit our pain to God even as we cry out to him, and we can plead for relief, as Jesus and Paul did, while offering up our pain as a sacrifice to the Lord.

“Perhaps the sacrifice of praise in our pain is the most exquisite gift we could ever offer him.”

Few people on earth will see the impact of our worship, and some will say that our physical suffering is a waste. Perhaps it is a waste — just as the woman with the alabaster flask was “wasteful” (Mark 14:4). She poured out her precious ointment as an extravagant act of worship, and its fragrance spread everywhere. There was no utilitarian purpose; nothing tangible was accomplished — but the impact of her seemingly wasteful sacrifice will echo through eternity, as saints recount her story forever.

Perhaps our offering to God, amid our agony and weakness, will have the same impact. Perhaps it is just as precious, maybe more so, in the sight of the Lord than all the work we or others do for him. Perhaps the sacrifice of praise in our pain is the most exquisite gift we could ever offer him.

Of this I am sure: no act of worship to Jesus will be wasted.

Have you ever heard God’s voice?

Has he spoken words that have strengthened your soul? Or transformed your perspective? Or brought you abiding peace? God’s words are unlike human words. They change us. They bear fruit. They do not — and cannot — return void (Isaiah 55:11). God spoke our whole world into existence. For God, speaking is the same as having it done.

In suffering, perhaps more than at any other time, we need to be attuned to God’s voice. Otherwise, we’ll be persuaded by the voices around us that tempt us to despair in our pain, to believe that God doesn’t care, to conclude that the world’s way to handle suffering is better than God’s way. These competing voices, of Satan and the world (or of our friends or insecurities), can lead us away from the Lord, making us doubt what God has clearly said.

Who Has Your Ear?

Satan came to Jesus at the beginning of his ministry, tempting him to doubt his identity and to test God’s reliability, implying that God was not true to the word he had just spoken (Matthew 3:17). Satan loves to prey on our vulnerability, pouncing when we feel alone and weak.

People we trust can also inadvertently lead us from the truth. We can begin to doubt what God has shown us when others question what he’s said, or when they offer some fresh “revelation” or insight that supersedes what God has clearly said. In 1 Kings 13, the Lord told a man of God to go straight home without stopping, but he was persuaded by an old prophet (who claimed to hear from an angel) to do the opposite of what God had told him. We don’t know why the old prophet lied, but the consequences were disastrous. When God’s word to us is clear, we need to obey him rather than relying on the opinions of others — even of those we respect.

The voices of our fears and insecurities are constantly whispering to us as well. God told the Israelites that if they were disobedient, he would send faintness into their hearts. The sound of a driven leaf would put them to flight, and they would flee as someone fleeing from the sword. They would fall even though no one was pursuing them (Leviticus 26:36). This is what happens when we don’t trust the Lord, when we listen to our fears instead of listening to him. We hear terrifying sounds. We imagine the worst. Our hearts melt, and panic consumes us, even when we have nothing to fear.

All these voices can fill our minds, drowning out the voice of God, redirecting our thoughts, and intensifying our insecurities. This can happen even when the words we hear aren’t inherently evil. Since the voices we listen to will inevitably shape us, we need to be aware of their influence. What books or articles are we reading? What podcasts are we listening to? What friends do we spend the most time with? Whom are we following on social media, and what are we watching on screens? These voices all shape us, in both subtle and overt ways. Some leave us unsettled and fearful, others entitled and angry, but listening to God’s voice will fill us with strength and peace.

I Know His Voice

When I was a little girl, I lived in a large ward in the hospital with other children, and was permitted to see my parents only on weekends. I went through major surgeries alone, constantly afraid of what might happen since my parents couldn’t be with me before surgery. But on Saturday mornings, as soon as visitors were allowed, my parents would come to the hospital. I vividly remember hearing my mother’s voice in the hall. Even before I could discern what she was saying, her voice made me feel safe. I could relax, confident that she and my father would take care of me.

“Hearing God’s voice in my suffering has brought a comfort that has enveloped me.”

Similarly, hearing God’s voice in my suffering has brought a comfort that has enveloped me. I know that I’m not alone. God is near. He will take care of me. Like all Jesus’s sheep, I know his voice (John 10:27). It’s unmistakable. Even though sheep may not understand all the words, they recognize the reassuring voice of their shepherd, and know they are safe.

So, how do we recognize God’s voice?

Often it begins with inviting him to speak to us, perhaps when we wake up, and particularly at the beginning of our time in Scripture. We might say with Samuel, “Speak, Lord, for your servant hears” (1 Samuel 3:9). While Scripture describes God speaking in a variety of ways, the Bible is the primary and most reliable way we hear from him. The words of Scripture are God’s very words, and form the framework for all we know about God.

What Does God Sound Like?

When we read the Bible, we are listening for God’s voice, often reading and rereading until the Spirit gives us ears to hear. Until God opens our ears, the words can seem dry and lifeless. They can seem like academic knowledge, not like life-giving comfort and wisdom.

As we dig for treasure, though, persistently knocking until we hear God’s voice, the same words suddenly come to life. They inspire us, leave us in breathtaking awe of God, and buoy our confidence in him. His voice dispels our darkest fears, revives our weary souls, gives us supernatural wisdom, and reassures us that something much better is coming.

In reading Scripture, we are not only listening to God’s words for us, but we are also becoming familiar with the sound of his voice. We start understanding his ways. God isn’t limited to speaking through Scripture — but Scripture attunes our ears to what his voice sounds like. As we memorize Scripture, his words begin running through our minds. We can discern truth from falsehood, knowing God will never contradict what he’s told us in the Bible.

At the same time, other voices can encourage our faith as well. We know, for instance, that “the heavens declare the glory of God,” and all of nature sings his praise (Psalm 19:1). Faithful preachers proclaim God’s word, which then takes root in our hearts. Friends share nuggets of what God has shown them, and our spirits and faith are strengthened.

“I must choose to open the Bible and read, even when everything in me is fighting against it.”

Sometimes God speaks directly to our inner being without an intermediary. While God speaks predominantly through Scripture, I’ve sensed him speaking to me twice in words that were not directly from the Bible. They were both during times of suffering and uncertainty, and immediately afterward I felt a tangible change. As I considered the words I believed were from God, I tested them against Scripture, and asked him for confirmation. After the encounter, I was left with an inexplicable peace and a deeper wonder and trust in God.

Let His Voice Be First

When I’m anxious, my mind naturally runs in a hundred different directions, looking for answers and solutions I can produce in my own strength. It’s hard to be still before God. Yet that’s when I need stillness most. I need to be quiet enough to hear God’s voice, and know that he is near. I must choose to open the Bible and read, even when everything in me is fighting against it. In turmoil, I want noise and distraction to drown out my pain, so stillness has to be an intentional choice, a deliberate shift to listen to God. It rarely happens when I’m scrolling through my phone, landing on whatever captures my attention.

When you want to hear the voice of God unmistakably, I urge you to read your Bible, and ask him to speak to you through it. Quiet your heart, and submit to his word. Listen for his voice singing over you as his beloved (Zephaniah 3:17). Let the first voice you hear be his, as you declare with David, “Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust” (Psalm 143:8).

Suffering changes our vision.

Just as our natural eyes can’t see as well in the dark, in suffering we struggle to see beyond our pressing needs. Everything looks hazy — except our problems, which seem disproportionately clear and intense. It takes the eyes of faith to see past our present circumstances to the presence and provision of God.

Seeing with the eyes of faith requires us to be intentional about where we focus. I recently took a picture in portrait mode on my phone, and I noticed that what I focused on was remarkably vivid and sharp, while the surroundings were fuzzy and blurred. I could barely identify what was in the background. The same is true in suffering. Whatever we focus on will capture our attention, and everything else can fade into the background.

Looking Through Another Lens

When God first brought the Israelites to the edge of the promised land, Moses told them to spy out the country God had given them. The spies returned after forty days, acknowledging that the land was flowing with milk and honey, but focusing their attention on the giants who lived there (Numbers 13:31–33). God’s promises and provision faded into the background, and the people succumbed to fear.

“It takes the eyes of faith to see past our present circumstances to the presence and provision of God.”

Forty years later, Joshua led the Israelites to the border of the promised land with even more obstacles. The same giants inhabited the territory, but now they needed to cross the overflowing Jordan River and conquer a walled city. But this time, the people didn’t hesitate or mention turning back. They focused on God, taking courage that he was with them, and the hurdles disappeared into the background. Rather than looking through the lens of fear, they looked through the lens of faith, focusing on God’s presence, protection, and provision.

Faith allows us to see far beyond our natural vision, assuring us of what we hope for but cannot yet see with our physical eyes (Hebrews 11:1). This spiritual sight is a gift from God, and with it we see our lives through a different lens. But why do we need it? When God opens our eyes, what can we see?

Show Us Wonders

Scripture becomes alive with meaning when God illuminates it for us. The Bible is inspired by God, and we need his Spirit to understand it (1 Corinthians 2:14). We can research and analyze Scripture and even read the original in Hebrew and Greek, but if God doesn’t reveal the truth to us, we cannot see it.

“Even when we feel as though we’re lying in the dust, God’s word can revive us.”

One way to get that sight is to pray, “Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law” (Psalm 119:18). Just as the resurrected Jesus opened the disciples’ minds on the road to Emmaus to understand Scripture (Luke 24:45), God can do the same for us. The Bible moves from mere typewritten words on a page to Spirit-breathed words that change us — words that give life to our souls, give us wisdom and joy, and help us see the deep things of God. Even when we feel as though we’re lying in the dust, God’s word can revive us.

GOD’S PROTECTION

When God revives us, our spiritual eyes can see his protection as we look into the heavenly realms. Even though we may feel alone, outnumbered by our troubles and enemies, we can be certain that, in Christ, heaven’s armies are with us. When Elisha and his servant were surrounded by the Syrian army, Elisha prayed that the eyes of his servant would be opened. And when they were, the servant saw that the hills were filled with horses and chariots of fire. The heavenly realms surrounded them, and they both knew that there were more with them than against them (2 Kings 6:15–17).

Likewise, believing that the help of heaven is surrounding us can change how we face battles, whether we’re struggling against hostile people or alone in our rooms. Wherever we are, we are never truly alone.

GOD’S PROVISION

In addition to his protection, God opens our eyes to his provision right in front of us. When Hagar was sent away with her son Ishmael, she wept when their water supply ran out and feared Ishmael would die. Then God opened her eyes to see a well of water that would provide for them (Genesis 21:19), most likely reminding her of years earlier when she declared, “You are a God of seeing. . . . Truly here I have seen him who looks after me” (Genesis 16:13). Hagar understood that God provides for and looks after us, even when we have no resources. The ability to recognize God’s provision is a gift, so those who don’t trust in God may not see good even when it comes.

GOD’S PRESENCE

Perhaps the greatest gift of spiritual sight is to recognize God’s presence. Jacob wrestled with God, at first not knowing who he was, but eventually realizing he had seen God face to face (Genesis 32:30). This encounter changed Jacob forever — leaving him with a limp, but more importantly with a faith that never turned back. After seeing God, like Jacob, we will never be the same.

Even though we may intellectually know God is always with us, we need to pay attention to see him and be aware of his presence. Signs of his love are all around, but we need to connect them to him. It may be as simple as noticing the wisdom we have when we ask for it. Or the inexplicable comfort we receive when we cry out. Or the unexpected phone call after we pray. Connecting those gifts with God’s presence in our life can transform our suffering. Both Mary Magdalene at the tomb and the disciples on the road to Emmaus were dejected and discouraged until they recognized Jesus, and then they were filled with joy and peace. So it is with us. Knowing that God is with us, not just intellectually but experientially, can radically alter how we feel in our suffering.

Sight That Changes Suffering

When we turn to God, he opens our eyes and shows us hidden treasures of darkness that we might know him (Isaiah 45:3). But since our vision is limited in the dark, we need to be purposeful about where we focus. If we view life through the lens of pain and discouragement, we will focus on all that is wrong and difficult. We will see our problems more than God’s provision. We will see our loneliness more than God’s presence. We will fixate more on our fears than on God’s promises.

What lens are you viewing your life through? Are you asking God for supernatural sight as you focus on him? Are you looking at the obstacles in front of you, or are you beholding the God who can move mountains? Are you trusting in your ability to fix the situation, or are you entrusting yourself to the God who commands the dawn? Are you focusing on what you don’t have, or are you centered on the fact that our God owns the cattle on a thousand hills?

What we look at and focus on will change us. As we behold the Lord Jesus, he will transform us (2 Corinthians 3:18), but if we concentrate on our fears, they will consume us. If we put God’s steadfast love before our eyes (Psalm 26:3), then we will see his presence, protection, and provision more than we see our problems. He will delight us with Scripture even in our deepest affliction. We will rest in his protection, knowing he goes before us and will fight for us. We will see his marvelous provision, sending manna from heaven and water from a rock. We will know that he is with us, as our spiritual eyes will see our Teacher (Isaiah 30:20).

And as we walk by faith and not by sight, relying on what we know to be true rather than what we see, we will not be disappointed. “For we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18).