Suffering, especially the innocent suffering we observe in others or experience ourselves, is one of the most problematic issues of believing in an all-knowing, all-powerful, and good God. How do we Catholics make sense of the suffering we endure or observe? By seeing it through the lens of faith: in the light of Jesus’ victory won through His suffering of the cross. We come, through a relationship with Jesus Christ, to grasp some aspects of the mystery of suffering. God teaches us that He can bring about good through suffering. In fact, this is how St. Thomas Aquinas approaches the problem of suffering: by asserting that God permits what He does not desire in order to bring about a greater good. If suffering is allowed by our good and loving God, then we need to spend our energies searching for the good He will bring about through it, rather than endlessly mulling over “Why” this might have happened to us or someone we love. But God can’t usually help us understand the “why” of suffering—our minds can’t comprehend the fullness of God’s plan or the intricacies of His ways. The “why” is beyond our capacities.
“Everything comes to us from God. If at first something should happen to us that seem either good or bad, we have only to recall that it has been sent to us, or permitted, by a loving Father… God knows what is good for us.”
Cassian
Let’s confront that harmful way of understanding suffering right away. Once we clear this one out of our heads and hearts, we can begin to enter into the mystery of good coming from suffering. When we suffer, we often turn to God in complaint: “Why do I deserve this? What did I ever do to you?” we might say in prayer. We inherit a tendency to see suffering as God’s punishment for our wicked deeds or, even more depressing, as a sign that God has rejected or dislikes us. Suffering, however, is not a sign of God abandoning us in cold fury or deciding that He doesn’t like us anymore. “Good fortune” as it might be described from a worldly point of view is not a sign of His favor, either. When we give in to jealousy, rivalry and competition, we might look for external signs of God’s favor. If I have a good job, don’t get a dreadful disease, if my kids get good jobs and my home is impeccably decorated, then God loves me. If I suffer illness, conflict, poverty or disdain, then God doesn’t love me.
This comes from a dangerous confusion about God’s intentions and vision for us. Instead of keeping our eyes on God’s desire for our eternal good, we replace it with a “prosperity gospel” pertaining to our lives on this planet. God wants our ultimate good, but we’d rather enjoy the lesser goods of memory foam mattresses, gorgeously sculpted bodies, or sumptuous feasting. Perhaps we do admit that comfort and prosperity shouldn’t be our ultimate goals in life, but we still succumb to the temptation to put these things first even when we say we are Christians. Jesus’ attitude isn’t too encouraging regarding our comfort and prosperity in this life. In fact, it’s easy to find many examples of Jesus teaching us just the opposite. But we fallen humans keep trying to replace heaven with cheap imitations. It trains us, unfortunately, to see any sign of trouble, challenge or suffering as unendurable or meaningless. We fear it, so we avoid it. We allow that fear to control our desires, our energies, our focus and our vision of life.
Jesus understands the fear and insecurity that drives us to avoid suffering and to ascribe meaninglessness to suffering. He understands our fallen human nature with compassion, but He won’t allow that fear to remain in His disciples. The Holy Spirit drives out fear and replaces it with God’s perfect love. The love of God compels us to set aside lesser loves, to see the things in this life that promise comfort, distraction, security and prestige as so much “rubbish” compared to the glory of heaven. The first task, then, of someone facing suffering is to make a conscious choice to “stand firm” in the love of Jesus Christ. The first task we have when witnessing someone suffering is to offer them the love of Jesus Christ in our words, actions and support.
Suffering can obscure our vision and prevent us from seeing the truth. Suffering has a way of closing us in within ourselves as we experience a depth of pain and anguish that threatens to blot out any other emotion or thought. It’s like driving on a cold, wintery morning with a windshield that is all fogged up on the inside. We can do just fine if we are driving away from the sun, but once we turn into the bright sunlight, our vision is obscured as the light shines on that film of moisture inside the windshield. If we focus on the windshield, we can’t see through it! Suffering can momentarily blind us in the same way—the light of Christ might be shining brightest in our lives when we suffer, but until we gather our wits and look through that windshield, all we observe is the pain. So what do we do to refocus on the light of Christ rather than the suffering that obscures our vision? We slow down, collect ourselves, and focus our eyes on the road ahead. We recall our training in the faith and actively seek the mysterious ways God can bring good from all things. So what good can God bring out of suffering? I will describe six ways God can bring good out of suffering, all six coming out of our rich Catholic heritage of Biblical wisdom, Apostolic Tradition and the writings of the saints.
First, suffering can bring about training and discipline for the good of our souls. God is our loving Father. He gives us laws and commandments to guide us to achieve fullness and happiness. He promises us an inheritance and a place in His kingdom. He enters into a covenant relationship with us rooted firmly in love—His eternal, merciful love. God eagerly and joyfully wants our good—our greatest good. When He witnesses His wayward children clinging to lesser goods and falling into habits of sin, He will do whatever it takes to rescue us. Sometimes, this means God allows us to experience the consequences of sin in painful ways that make us suffer.
“The Lord comes to us like a physician to heal the wounds left by our sins.”
St. Augustine, Commentary on the Psalms
I recall a time when I had finally allowed my heart to be convicted about a grievous sin from my past. A sin I had spent years justifying and rationalizing. It had twisted my sense of right and wrong so badly that I saw my decision to disobey God’s law as perfectly compatible with also seeing myself as a good and holy person. In fact, I saw my choice not as a choice to sin, but as a choice to be mature and wise and free. As I gradually came to my senses about the real state of my soul, I experienced a terrible bout of the stomach flu. I didn’t sleep all night, the next day I continued to feel horrible. I curled up in our big papasan chair and waited for the waves of nausea to return. Every time I raced to the bathroom, retching and heaving, my mind went back to images of my sinful past. I wasn’t consciously trying to do so, these memories seemed unbidden by me. That experience taught me, in a most visceral and dramatic way, of the effects of sin in my life. My physical suffering was a window into my soul—and I accepted the truth God, in His mercy, wanted me to accept. My sins were a sickness, a dis-ease of my soul. They were not signs of my maturity, freedom and power—they were sick and debilitating signs of poor spiritual health. I knew what I had to do: ask for forgiveness and get back on God’s path. That bout of suffering led to a very great good—my deepening conversion to the Lord.
God will sometimes choose to reach us through the megaphone of suffering if we turn a deaf ear to the whispers of His guidance. St. Paul suggests as much to the church in Corinth as they endure the sickness and suffering that resulted from their irreverent attitude concerning the Eucharist (1 Cor 11:29-30). However, I don’t think most of the suffering we experience or observe is a natural consequence of our sins. We certainly shouldn’t waste our time trying to figure out if other people’s suffering is due to their sins—this only feeds our prideful and judgmental ego and isn’t our business. But if our own suffering doesn’t seem to be necessary discipline for our sins, then we must search for other ways God brings goodness from it.
The second kind of goodness God can bring from suffering is the purification of our desires and priorities. Choosing to live a holy life amidst suffering helps us purify our hearts of prideful self-love. We express a desire to live for God alone rather than abandon our principles and practices when things get tough. The greatest examples of this kind of purified desire are those martyrs who faced death rather than stop practicing their faith. But God brings about the same kind of good on a less dramatic scale in our lives as well. Every time I suffer from lack of sleep in order to stay up with a sick child, my desire to love others as God loves is purified. Every time I suffer the pain of exclusion and mockery when I refuse to go along with conversations or activities that violate the commandments, my desire for holiness is purified. This kind of purification leads to peace. We relax into the arms of our Savior as we confess to Him, “I truly do love you first in my life. I truly do choose you above all things. I see that now. I thank you for this chance to tell you I love you.”
“He will provide the way and the means, such as you could never have imagined. Leave it all to Him, let go of yourself, lose yourself on the cross and you will find yourself entirely.”
St. Catherine of Siena
The third good God can bring about through our suffering is the strengthening of virtue and a greater awareness of our power. I could tell you that I can dunk a basketball (I really wish I could!). But you would be unwise to believe me unless you saw me do it. I can tell you that I am strong in the virtue of patience, but my actions when faced with obstacles and interruptions will tell you if it is true. Our response to suffering can strengthen our virtues in the same way that resistance training can strengthen our muscles. Muscle fiber is built up when we exercise in ways that actually produce tiny tears in our muscles. The subsequent rebuilding effort after the exercise is what builds up and strengthens muscles. In the same way, the sufferings we face can exercise our “spiritual muscles” and provide them with the opportunity to strengthen.
I won’t know how much courage I have until I face suffering that calls it out of me. Mercy and generosity grow stronger when I have suffered someone sinning against me, and I choose to forgive rather than hold a grudge. The suffering we experience or observe in others invites us to strengthen our virtues in a conscious and focused way. This is a question we can bring to the Lord in prayer: “Lord, what virtue are you calling forth from me through this experience of suffering?”
A friend of mine had her first child a year and a half before my first son was born. About the time of my son’s birth, her daughter suffered a serious illness, and the dangerously high fever she endured damaged her brain and body. She has suffered through years of seizures and other painful complications. Her development was severely limited, and she cannot live on her own. I witnessed my friend facing this catastrophe with peace and power—she saw it as an opportunity to grow in patience and compassion. Rather than blaming God and being filled with jealousy with regard to others whose children were developing and maturing, she grew to treasure the gifts given to her. And her daughter is a true treasure, a gift that is not ‘damaged’ or ‘broken,’ but a beautiful, unique blessing. Allowing God to call forth and strengthen virtues was the way forward for my friend—a way to see the good that could come out of the suffering. My friend discovered a core of strength, a resiliency and endurance she didn’t knew she possessed—and her strength has helped so many others.
That brings me to the fourth way God can bring good out of suffering: by deepening our compassion and leading us to effective responses when we witness the suffering of others. St. Paul speaks about this in the opening of his Second Letter to the Corinthians. He describes God comforting us in our afflictions, thereby allowing us to comfort one another (2 Cor 1:3-6). This is not why God permitted the suffering (remember, “why” is a question we usually can’t have answered), but it is a good that can result from it. The suffering we endure, survive, and grow from is usually similar to something someone else will also suffer. We can provide others with hope and peace, with a joyful certainty that God will not abandon us but is with us through it all. Our survival and recovered vitality can inspire others with the confidence to endure and trust God as well.
“We must always remember that God does everything well, although we may not see the reason of what He does.”
St. Philip Neri
My fourth pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. Besides the physical suffering I endured, the grief I suffered was profoundly overwhelming. God met me in the storm of that grief, holding me tightly as the storm howled, and I emerged with greater trust in God. He had required of me a sacrifice I didn’t know I was capable of offering. I didn’t understand why this sacrifice was necessary, but I grew to trust in the goodness of God’s plan and of His eternal love for me and my child. At the memorial Mass for our baby, my husband and I offered a reflection after Holy Communion to those gathered with us. Enfolded in the love of God and in the tender compassion of our parish and family, we spoke of God’s outpouring of blessings and grace. Of how this little baby had worked a great miracle of reconciliation between me and another person. Of how this little baby had brought an increase in unity and peace and support within our family.
After the Mass, a woman came up to me and thanked me for having the courage to be there and to have had a Mass said for our little baby. She broke down crying and said that after her miscarriage many years ago, she just wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened and never did confront the suffering and grief she felt. No one had shown her another way. I embraced her and assured her that the memorial Mass we had just celebrated was for babies who had been miscarried, including her precious little one. Because I had suffered the same painful loss as she had, we could connect and support one another. This is a great mystery, a great blessing, a painful grace—and the full fruit of the comfort we offer each other will only become evident in heaven.
The fifth good that God can bring about through our suffering is to give us an opportunity to witness to the source and point of our faith and hope and love. It’s easy to be a Christian when life is fine, when the kids are ‘little angels’ and the husband is a pillar of virtue. It’s easy to be Christian when health, bank account and career are good. What about when we encounter suffering? Will we still praise our God, trust in His goodness and mercy, and confess our allegiance to the Creator of the universe when we get no evident benefit from these things? This is when others observe our faith with curiosity and attentiveness. This is when we have the floor—what will our attitudes and response tell others about what we really believe in?
Those who suffer and remain strong in their faith, with a calm trust and joyful attitude, inspire and console those who witness it. We come away nourished and strengthened by their witness. Our own struggles and suffering seem more manageable and we might find in ourselves a bit more strength and resilience that we thought we had. We recognize in these witnesses, that the suffering we endure doesn’t diminish our value and dignity, even as it might take away our abilities, strength and skills.
Suffering gives us an opportunity to confront our humanity—there is so much in life that we cannot control. Facing this truth frees us to claim the power to control what we can control—our choice to love, our choice to trust, our choice to persevere. Facing this truth also frees us to claim the power to reject what must be rejected: the temptation to discouragement and despair; the temptation to lash out at others and to sink into bitterness and envy; the temptation to ignore the love of God and refuse to seek Him. When we accept the fact, the terrible and truthful fact, that we are not gods—then we can relax into the greater truth of being God’s beloved child. What God allows is for our good. What God allows and draws (or drags) us through will make us better, stronger, purer, and more powerful.
An amazing example of the power of witnessing to Christ through suffering was a Deacon from the Archdiocese of Portland in Oregon. Deacon Loris Buccola served at St. Paul Catholic Church in Silverton, Oregon. He was diagnosed with ALS in 2000. His response? The diagnosis, he remarked, is “deadly, but not serious”. He didn’t consider it serious because it couldn’t affect the trajectory of his life, it wouldn’t prevent him from reaching heaven. He wrote and preached and lived his faith throughout his illness. His reflections on the Sunday Gospels, many of them dictated after he lost the use of his hands, were published in a book titled Eternity is the Reality. He died on December 7, 2006. The example of his witness was inspiring and consoling to so many people. If the purpose of life is become a saint in heaven, then suffering does not need to be regarded as a tragedy—it can be the most effective and powerful means to our greatest end. That suffering can also inspire others to find courage, endurance and meaning in their own trials.
“The great Christian revolution has been to convert pain into fruitful suffering. … We have deprived the devil of this weapon; and with it we can conquer eternity.”
St. Josemaria Escriva
Many people who give witness to their faith through suffering, do so because they understand the invitation from God to unite suffering with Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross for His glory, our neighbor’s good, and our salvation. This sixth reason, mystical union with the suffering Christ, is perhaps the most difficult to comprehend and the most powerful of all the ways God can bring good out of suffering. Again, this is not the reason why He allows suffering—but making this kind of an offering gives suffering meaning, value and purpose.
After the attack on our nation by ISIS terrorists on September 11, 2001, I was filled with sorrow and grief and a new awareness of the fragility of human life. Later that month, I miscarried my baby. I was already reeling from the enormity of suffering caused by hatred and evil. Then I faced suffering caused by living in a fallen, imperfect world, and it all seemed so meaningless—this miscarriage was a kind of suffering with no malice, no intentionality, no point to it all. Regardless of its origin, suffering causes pain and confusion within our souls. We grapple for meaning, we struggle to understand, we search for ways to escape, diminish, ignore or end the suffering. Then, God’s grace breaks through and invites us to look at suffering from heaven’s perspective.
Suffering can be the single most powerful way we can bring Christ’s redemptive victory to the world. Through suffering, we don’t just talk about the love of Jesus Christ on display on the cross: we embody it. We incarnate it. We possess it and endure it and offer its fruits for the good of those we love. Or for the good of those we don’t know. Or for our enemies. Some months after the 9/11 attack, I came across a prayer used in an Orthodox church’s Good Friday service. I cut it out and posted it on my bulletin board and have prayed it frequently in the decades since that awful month.
O Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will but also those of ill will. But do not remember all the suffering they have inflicted on us; remember the fruits we have bought, thanks to this suffering—our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, our courage, our generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of all this, and when they come to judgment, let all the fruits which we have borne be their forgiveness. Amen.
This prayer proclaims the great truth of suffering for the Christian. Jesus came into the world to take on our sins, to suffer and die for us in order to break the hold sin and death have on the human soul. But He didn’t come to take away all our suffering—He came to give our suffering a meaning, a purpose and a power. Suffering has a new meaning in Christ—we offer our suffering as an act of sacrificial love for others. Suffering has a new purpose in Christ—our suffering is a way to learn obedience and to become perfect in seeking the will of God. Suffering has a new power in Christ—through the weakness and humiliation and vulnerability we experience when suffering, the power of God’s love is unleashed through us. Jesus Himself told Paul that His power was made perfect in weakness—why, then, should a Christian fear or avoid suffering? It is when we can be most powerful in unleashing the love of Christ.
How can you help a loved one who is suffering? Listen to them. Be with them. Pray for them and find specific ways to support them. Build them up in their faith if they are open to listening to you (be compassionate and avoid preaching). Tell them how you see God working through the ways they are confronting and living through this difficult period. Avoid ascribing your own meaning to their suffering—give them the dignity of telling you what God is doing in their heart and life. Avoid asking despairing and bitter “why” questions on their behalf—especially avoid supplying any “why” answers to them. Yet be patient if they have to offer their own “why” and “why me” questions—let them talk out what might poison their heart, and let them come to a point of listening for God’s answers. Don’t tell them you’ll pray for them later, pray with them in that moment—and thank God for your friend’s virtues, resilience, power and faith.
Who is our best role model for how to approach suffering? Jesus’ mother and our Blessed Mother, Mary. She stood at the foot of the cross, witnessing and participating in her Son’s suffering and death. She couldn’t stop it. She didn’t understand it fully. But she stayed. As a silent witness to love—the kind of courageous and powerful love who refuses to leave the beloved. Her powerful witness is a sign to us all. In the face of suffering, we, too, can keep vigil at the cross. For what purpose? For what effect? When we endure Good Friday, we are in the perfect position to rejoice in Easter Sunday—which always comes for the Christian, maybe not in this life, but most assuredly and perfectly and eternally in the life ahead of us.
Flourish Catholic 