Everyone seeks to avoid suffering, yet the reality is—it is unavoidable. Naturally, we ask: If God is all-powerful and all-loving, why does suffering still exist?

A long-time seeker once asked me—someone who had read much of the Bible and agreed with many of its teachings, yet remained stuck at this very hurdle. He said:

"If God is love, why is there so much agony in this world? Especially now, with wars breaking out and so many innocent people suffering... I simply cannot reconcile 'God is love' with all of this."

This is not an easy question to answer. It is a profound "stuck point" for many on their journey of faith.

Through my own struggles within this same confusion, I have come to understand: Some things do not originate from God. The world we live in is inherently broken. People hurt one another; we bear the consequences of choices made by those before us. We are struck by the inexplicable, sometimes facing devastation that far exceeds our understanding.

Therefore, suffering is not God’s creation. It is the consequence of humanity entering a disordered world after turning away from Him.

God is love, but He is also a God of justice and holiness. He will not maintain a superficial "suffering-free world" at the cost of His own righteousness. Yet, He has not remained a bystander. He chose a deeper path—to enter suffering personally and bear it alongside us.

He experienced rejection, humiliation, pain, and even death. As the Scriptures say:

"He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain." (Isaiah 53:3)
"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin." (Hebrews 4:15)

This "empathy" is incredibly precious to those who suffer. He endured all of this not to make suffering look rational, but to carve a path through the abyss—a way to move through suffering and ultimately overcome it.

To be in God’s presence is the ultimate state of beauty—a life of wholeness, rest, and no brokenness. Yet, because of sin, we lost that original goodness. Thus, we spend our lives searching, longing, and trying to return to that place where we "belong." This is why we instinctively reject suffering and constantly ask:

"Why me?"

Yet, the paradox is—in a world already shattered, the road back to that peace often leads through suffering. It is often only in our brokenness that we truly begin to turn back toward God.

In this tension, I have slowly learned to discern: The source of suffering is not the heart of God. But in the deepest, coldest places, God has reserved a possibility—for us to encounter Him. This is perhaps the true meaning of "All things work together for good to those who love God." (Romans 8:28)

The story of Job in the Bible is exactly like this. In human eyes, he was upright and godly, yet suffering struck him without warning. His friends tried incessantly to explain it, as if everything must have a neat cause. But Job did not settle for their explanations. He did not deny his pain or his doubts; instead, he kept his gaze fixed on God. He wanted God’s involvement; he wanted a dialogue. And God answered him.

When Job finally encountered God, he said: "My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you."

In that moment, the questions were not resolved, but the suffering was no longer in vain. He gained something deeper than an answer—he found God Himself.

The ultimate meaning of suffering is not about "why it happened," but about where it can take us. Within Christ’s "familiarity with pain," we slowly gain a sense of security that allows us to gently ask ourselves: Why not me?

If even the Lord did not exercise His "privilege" to avoid pain, and since this world is inherently broken, why should I insist on being the exception?

There was a time when depression became the primary hue of my life, closing in on me like death itself. I asked "Why me?" countless times. But when I began to ask, "Why not me?" that tight grip of victimhood began to loosen. As I turned, I met the Lord who had been waiting for me. His truth and His presence led me out, step by step.

Looking back now, that place is no longer just darkness; it has become the place where I truly began to know Him.

God is not the author of suffering, but He permits it and works within it. Sometimes, He uses it so we may meet Him or know Him more deeply; other times, He refines us like gold and silver, making us vessels for His use.

He allows the fire to refine the gold; He allows the night so that you may see the stars. This is not the cruelty of fate, but the Creator’s most profound invitation.

When we turn to Him, the suffering may not change instantly, but it no longer defines us. Instead, life takes on a texture that only the furnace can produce.

Since suffering is unavoidable, how should we face it?

God is full of mercy, and He teaches us to support and bear one another's burdens. When we face those who are suffering, sometimes there truly are no words to say. We cannot "fix" the problem. All we can do is offer quiet companionship—to weep with those who weep, and walk a portion of the road beside them. We do not act like Job’s friends; instead, we gently point their gaze toward God.

As promised in Romans 8:35-39:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? ......No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Yes, suffering does not vanish, but it is no longer the destination. In God’s hands, it becomes a road—a road that leads us back to the place of His presence.

Oasis Light | 綠洲亮光