Most of us think we understand the cross. We believe it, we are grateful for it, and we would say without hesitation that it stands at the center of our faith and history. Yet the truth is, much of the time we understand it only with our minds.
There are truths about Christ we admire for years without truly understanding. We read about the cross, hear sermons, and sing hymns, yet often it remains distant, something we believe, but do not fully grasp in the depths of our hearts.
Then suffering enters our lives.
Suddenly, the cross does not feel so distant anymore. When pain presses into our own lives—whether through betrayal, illness, loss, or some deep disappointment that leaves our soul aching—we begin to see things differently. Questions begin to stir deep within. Faith is no longer theoretical. And wonderfully, it is often in those painful seasons that the cross of Christ begins to speak to us in ways it never did before.
The truth is, we cannot truly comprehend the events of the cross unless we ourselves have suffered—sometimes deeply.
This does not mean our suffering is equal to Christ’s. Far from it. None of us will ever experience the depth of desolation Jesus endured on the cross.
When Jesus hung there bearing the sin of the world, He entered a darkness we could never imagine. The weight He carried was not only physical agony and human cruelty, but the unimaginable burden of sin itself. His suffering was unique, holy, and redemptive in a way no human suffering could ever be.
And yet, because He walked through that suffering, Christ understands our pain better than anyone else ever could.
The One who hung upon that cross knows what it is to be rejected. He knows the sting of betrayal and the loneliness of being misunderstood. He knows what it is to be mocked, forsaken, and surrounded by injustice. When sorrow presses against our own hearts, we are not speaking to a distant Saviour who merely observes human pain. We are speaking to One who has walked through it.
That is the reason the Holy Bible calls us to fix our eyes on Him:
“Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him that endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds” (Hebrews 12:2–3).
When suffering threatens to overwhelm us, we are invited to consider Christ. Not merely to admire His endurance, but to understand that the Saviour who endured the cross now walks with His people in their pain. He does not stand at a distance from our suffering. He draws near to it.
And honestly, if we were forced to walk through suffering without His presence, that would be the most crushing sorrow of all.
Yet this is where many of us wrestle in our faith.
Jesus calls us to follow Him, to become like Him, and yet we often attempt this hoping to avoid being wounded ourselves. We long for the blessings of Christ but without the scars that accompany discipleship. We desire spiritual growth, but we imagine that somehow it might come without valleys, wilderness seasons, or the painful transformation of our hearts.
But the path of Christ has never been one of comfort alone.
The apostle Paul understood this in a way few believers ever do. He knew that suffering was not simply an unfortunate part of life; it was part of the calling of those who follow Christ. In fact, from a dark and cold dungeon, he reminded believers plainly: “For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake” (Philippians 1:29).
Paul’s own desire reflected this understanding. He spoke of longing to know Christ, to experience the power of His resurrection, and to share in the fellowship of His sufferings. These were not separate pursuits, as though one could choose the parts of faith that feel uplifting while avoiding the parts that are costly. They are deeply intertwined.
We cannot truly know the power of Christ’s resurrection while refusing the fellowship of His sufferings. Often, it is through hardship that our understanding of Him grows deeper. The valleys we once feared become places where His sustaining grace becomes most real to us.
And this leads us to one of the most remarkable truths in all of the Bible.
The cross itself proves that God can transform the greatest evil into the greatest good.
The cross was the most evil act ever committed by humanity, yet it produced the greatest good God has ever given.
What humanity intended for cruelty, humiliation, and death, God turned into redemption for creation. The suffering of Christ became the very means through which salvation was offered to humanity.
That is why Paul could write with such confidence in Romans 8:31–32. If God did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, then surely, we can trust Him with the painful chapters of our own lives. The God who redeemed the suffering of Calvary is able to redeem our suffering as well.
This does not mean our pain disappears. Nor does it mean we will always understand why certain trials enter our lives. Many of the hardest questions of suffering remain mysteries on this side of eternity. But it does mean that our suffering is never meaningless in the hands of God.
The truth is, suffering is inevitable. Jesus Himself made that clear when He told His followers, “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
Pain and trouble will come. Trials and perplexity will arise. But despair does not have to come with them.
Because the same Saviour who endured the cross now stands beside His people in their suffering. He understands every tear, every unanswered prayer, every sleepless night when the heart feels heavy and hope feels fragile.
The cross assures us of something profound: if God could turn the agony of Calvary into the best gift for all humanity, then surely He can also transform the pain we carry today into something that will one day shine with His glory.
RETURN TO ALL BLOGS
There are truths about Christ we admire for years without truly understanding. We read about the cross, hear sermons, and sing hymns, yet often it remains distant, something we believe, but do not fully grasp in the depths of our hearts.
Then suffering enters our lives.
Suddenly, the cross does not feel so distant anymore. When pain presses into our own lives—whether through betrayal, illness, loss, or some deep disappointment that leaves our soul aching—we begin to see things differently. Questions begin to stir deep within. Faith is no longer theoretical. And wonderfully, it is often in those painful seasons that the cross of Christ begins to speak to us in ways it never did before.
The truth is, we cannot truly comprehend the events of the cross unless we ourselves have suffered—sometimes deeply.
This does not mean our suffering is equal to Christ’s. Far from it. None of us will ever experience the depth of desolation Jesus endured on the cross.
When Jesus hung there bearing the sin of the world, He entered a darkness we could never imagine. The weight He carried was not only physical agony and human cruelty, but the unimaginable burden of sin itself. His suffering was unique, holy, and redemptive in a way no human suffering could ever be.
And yet, because He walked through that suffering, Christ understands our pain better than anyone else ever could.
The One who hung upon that cross knows what it is to be rejected. He knows the sting of betrayal and the loneliness of being misunderstood. He knows what it is to be mocked, forsaken, and surrounded by injustice. When sorrow presses against our own hearts, we are not speaking to a distant Saviour who merely observes human pain. We are speaking to One who has walked through it.
That is the reason the Holy Bible calls us to fix our eyes on Him:
“Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him that endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself, lest ye be wearied and faint in your minds” (Hebrews 12:2–3).
When suffering threatens to overwhelm us, we are invited to consider Christ. Not merely to admire His endurance, but to understand that the Saviour who endured the cross now walks with His people in their pain. He does not stand at a distance from our suffering. He draws near to it.
And honestly, if we were forced to walk through suffering without His presence, that would be the most crushing sorrow of all.
Yet this is where many of us wrestle in our faith.
Jesus calls us to follow Him, to become like Him, and yet we often attempt this hoping to avoid being wounded ourselves. We long for the blessings of Christ but without the scars that accompany discipleship. We desire spiritual growth, but we imagine that somehow it might come without valleys, wilderness seasons, or the painful transformation of our hearts.
But the path of Christ has never been one of comfort alone.
The apostle Paul understood this in a way few believers ever do. He knew that suffering was not simply an unfortunate part of life; it was part of the calling of those who follow Christ. In fact, from a dark and cold dungeon, he reminded believers plainly: “For unto you it is given in the behalf of Christ, not only to believe on him, but also to suffer for his sake” (Philippians 1:29).
Paul’s own desire reflected this understanding. He spoke of longing to know Christ, to experience the power of His resurrection, and to share in the fellowship of His sufferings. These were not separate pursuits, as though one could choose the parts of faith that feel uplifting while avoiding the parts that are costly. They are deeply intertwined.
We cannot truly know the power of Christ’s resurrection while refusing the fellowship of His sufferings. Often, it is through hardship that our understanding of Him grows deeper. The valleys we once feared become places where His sustaining grace becomes most real to us.
And this leads us to one of the most remarkable truths in all of the Bible.
The cross itself proves that God can transform the greatest evil into the greatest good.
The cross was the most evil act ever committed by humanity, yet it produced the greatest good God has ever given.
What humanity intended for cruelty, humiliation, and death, God turned into redemption for creation. The suffering of Christ became the very means through which salvation was offered to humanity.
That is why Paul could write with such confidence in Romans 8:31–32. If God did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all, then surely, we can trust Him with the painful chapters of our own lives. The God who redeemed the suffering of Calvary is able to redeem our suffering as well.
This does not mean our pain disappears. Nor does it mean we will always understand why certain trials enter our lives. Many of the hardest questions of suffering remain mysteries on this side of eternity. But it does mean that our suffering is never meaningless in the hands of God.
The truth is, suffering is inevitable. Jesus Himself made that clear when He told His followers, “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
Pain and trouble will come. Trials and perplexity will arise. But despair does not have to come with them.
Because the same Saviour who endured the cross now stands beside His people in their suffering. He understands every tear, every unanswered prayer, every sleepless night when the heart feels heavy and hope feels fragile.
The cross assures us of something profound: if God could turn the agony of Calvary into the best gift for all humanity, then surely He can also transform the pain we carry today into something that will one day shine with His glory.
RETURN TO ALL BLOGS
