Faith Questions in the Face of Suffering
“Why me?”
“Where is God now?”
“Is there a purpose in this pain?”
Even those with faith cannot avoid these questions when facing suffering. In fact, the deeper one’s faith, the more jarring suffering can be. Those who have entrusted their lives to God often expect protection—believing that if they pray, obey, and walk faithfully, God will shield them. But Scripture does not present faith as a condition that exempts one from suffering. Rather, suffering often becomes more visible and profound within faith.
In today’s church, a range of messages about suffering abound—from interpretations that view suffering as a path to maturity, to those that see it as divine discipline, or comforting words that promise blessings after the storm. But often, these interpretations are too easily concluded or handled too lightly. Words like “It’s refinement,” or “Something better is coming” may come from good intentions, but to the one suffering, they can feel shallow. Suffering is too deep to be understood through doctrine alone, and too painful to be consoled by vague encouragement.
The Bible doesn’t treat suffering as a simple dichotomy. Suffering may be punishment or blessing—but more importantly, it is a space where our view of God is tested. It’s not merely a question of “why,” but an invitation to deepen the “relationship.” What kind of trust exists between God and me? Can that trust endure even after being wounded? These are the more pressing questions for those walking through hardship.
The life of Jesus Christ reveals the theological heart of suffering. Though sinless, He bore the cross—the ultimate suffering, not just in physical agony but in the isolation of carrying humanity’s sin. In Matthew 27:46, Jesus cries, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”—“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Even the Son of God experienced the silence of the Father in the depths of suffering. Thus, when we encounter God’s silence in our suffering, it does not mean He is absent or angry.
Sometimes suffering defies explanation. The faithful still fall ill. The prayerful still grieve loss. The obedient still fail. Job, though righteous, lost everything in a day. His friends tried to find fault, attributing his pain to sin, but God rebuked them. In the end, Job met God in a new way. He moved from having heard of God to seeing Him with his own eyes. Suffering does not merely demand explanation—it invites encounter.
This does not mean suffering should be romanticized or glossed over. Faith does not ignore suffering; it acknowledges its full weight. The Psalmists cry out in anger and confusion, often feeling abandoned: “You hid Your face, and I was dismayed” (Psalm 30:7), or “How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1). Faith does not run from suffering—it gives us the courage to cry out even within it.
To understand suffering in faith, we must remember three things. First, suffering tests not just our beliefs but the foundation of our trust in God. A faith that thrives only in comfort is untested. True faith is revealed in trials. Second, suffering brings theology into life. The question becomes: Is God still good, even in this pain? Third, suffering deepens our capacity for compassion. Those who have truly suffered rarely speak lightly of others’ pain. Only those who have walked through the fire can sit silently beside someone else in theirs.
Importantly, not all suffering is redemptive by default. Without turning our eyes to God, suffering can lead only to bitterness and wounds. But when we choose to trust God’s goodness even in the darkness, suffering becomes a tool—a channel for maturity and transformation. Suffering cannot be interpreted apart from faith. Without trust in God, it is senseless pain. With God, it may remain mysterious but gains meaning.
This is why Christians pray. We pray for the strength to endure, to know God more deeply through the hardship, and to see His touch on our wounds. Suffering may not be a sign of God’s abandonment—but a moment where He is shaping us more deeply than ever before.
To say that suffering is a blessing is not a sentimental phrase—it is the testimony of those who met God anew in their pain. Even without full understanding, even without deliverance yet, those who cling to God in the midst of suffering may one day say, “This suffering was a blessing.”
**The Fruits of Faith Revealed After Suffering**
Does suffering have an end? Does blessing really follow pain? The Bible often speaks of “restoration” after suffering—but this restoration is not merely a reversal of circumstances or an increase in wealth. True biblical restoration is found in the reestablishment of one’s relationship with God. Suffering may utterly break one person, while becoming the turning point for another. What makes the difference is whether the person walks through it *in faith*.
The final chapter of Job illustrates this. God restores Job with even greater blessings than before—he regains wealth and children. But the heart of Job’s restoration was not material. He confesses, “My ears had heard of You, but now my eyes have seen You” (Job 42:5). He knew God more deeply than he ever had before. The change was not in his situation alone, but in his spiritual perception. That is true recovery—knowing and trusting God in a new, profound way.
David, too, was shaped by suffering. Before becoming king, he spent years in the wilderness, fleeing Saul. Betrayed, hunted, and forgotten—his psalms are filled with lament. “How long, O Lord?” (Psalm 13:1) reflects not just his circumstances, but the weight of divine silence. Yet David repeatedly turned not to complaints, but to trust. “But I trust in Your unfailing love” became his anchor, showing us that even in despair, God’s mercy can be held.
The apostle Paul echoes this theme. Beaten, imprisoned, eventually martyred—he wrote, “We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair” (2 Corinthians 4:8). This is not mere optimism. Paul saw his life as bearing the death of Christ—and in that suffering, he found purpose and glory. His hardships were participation in the very sufferings of Christ.
The Bible consistently shows that suffering can become a place of divine encounter. There are prayers that only emerge in pain, and knees that only bend in grief. Suffering brings us back to God as the center, and moves us to seek Him in humility. These are the fruits of faith—not suffering itself, but the deep union with God that comes through it.
Modern churches often forget this message. We are taught to avoid suffering, to pray away every inconvenience. Of course, fervent prayer against pain is valid. But when suffering comes, we must not treat it as spiritual failure. If the sickness remains after prayer, or the breakthrough does not come after obedience, our question must shift from “why” to “how.” How will I go through this? How will I hold on to God here?
The Korean church was built in suffering. Believers who resisted emperor worship risked their lives. Churches thrived even during war and poverty. But in times of prosperity, this theology of suffering has faded. Now, small discomforts are labeled “not God’s will,” and any hardship is met with insecurity. Faith not trained to endure will collapse in crisis. We must recover a gospel-centered view of suffering.
Suffering is not the end, but the process. God disciplines through it, finds us in it, and rebuilds us after it. Therefore, the believer prays even in affliction—asking God to reveal His will, to not let the pain be wasted, and to work all things together for good, even when we don’t yet understand.
Suffering may not be a blessing in itself. But with God, suffering *can become* a place of grace. True blessing is not the absence of hardship—but the presence of unshakable faith through it. That faith, refined in suffering, is the greatest gift one can receive.
Maeil Scripture Journal | Today’s World, Through the Lens of the Word
