Faith Through Fire
When storms come crashing into a Christian’s life, people are quick to whisper: “They must be in sin. God must be punishing them. Their faith must not be strong enough.” And yes — at times, God does discipline His children when they wander, because He loves them too much to leave them in rebellion (Hebrews 12).
But let us not forget: not every trial is chastisement. Sometimes, trials come not because you are far from God, but because you are walking closely with Him. Sometimes suffering comes not as proof of His displeasure, but as proof of your faithfulness.
Jesus did not promise His followers a life of ease. He said plainly: “In this world ye shall have tribulation” (John 16:33). Paul echoed it: “All that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution” (2 Timothy 3:12).
If you are living for Christ, you will feel the sting of opposition. You will face fiery trials. And yes, it will hurt.
Trials are not light inconveniences… they cut to the soul. They invade our homes, touch our families, weigh on our hearts, and shake us to the core. They can leave us exhausted, staring at the ceiling in the dark of night, wondering if God hears our cries. There are moments when the silence feels deafening, when the burden feels too heavy to carry, and when despair whispers, “You cannot go on.”
David poured out his grief saying, “I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears” (Psalm 6:6). Job, stripped of everything, sat in ashes with a broken heart. Paul himself admitted he was “pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that he despaired even of life” (2 Corinthians 1:8). And our Lord Jesus, kneeling in Gethsemane with sweat like drops of blood, cried out, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death” (Matthew 26:38).
This is the raw reality of suffering. It humbles us. It lays us bare. It reminds us of how frail we truly are. Yet it is here, in the ache of the trial, that the nearness of Christ becomes most precious.
And here is the beautiful mystery of the Christian life: in the very same breath that Scripture acknowledges our sorrow, it calls us to joy.
James says, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations” (James 1:2). Peter writes, “Though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness through manifold temptations… yet ye greatly rejoice” (1 Peter 1:6).
Notice the balance: heaviness and rejoicing. Tears and joy. Sorrow and hope. This is the paradox of faith. We do not rejoice because trials are easy, we rejoice because Christ is with us in them. We do not celebrate pain… we celebrate what God is doing through the pain. Trials refine us like gold. They strip away self reliance. They deepen our roots in Christ.
Joy in trials is not about denying sorrow… it is about discovering Jesus in the sorrow.
Christian, your trials are not wasted. Your tears are not unseen. Psalm 56:8 says the Lord keeps your tears in His bottle — every single one. He draws near to the brokenhearted. He whispers His promises in the silence. And He gives songs in the night.
Yes, you may be pressed. Yes, you may be grieved. Yes, you may feel like your heart cannot take another blow. But the Lord is holding you. The suffering you face is producing something eternal — a weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Corinthians 4:17).
So count it all joy. Not because you love the pain, but because you love the Savior who holds you in the pain. Rejoice — because these trials are shaping you into the likeness of Christ, the Man of Sorrows who bore the cross for you.
And one day, beloved, the trials will end. The tears will be wiped away. The suffering will give way to eternal joy in His presence. Until then, hold fast. Keep sowing seeds. Keep walking in obedience. Keep trusting the One who has already overcome the world.
Because at the end of every trial, what you will find — is Jesus.
