We’ve all heard it before:

There is purpose in your pain.

And I believe there is.

God can take the things that broke us and somehow use them to build something we never could have imagined. He can turn wounds into wisdom, suffering into testimony, and ashes into something beautiful.

But this morning, I started wondering something else.

What if there comes a point when we have to stop looking for the purpose in our pain and start looking for the pain in our purpose?

Because those are two very different questions.

One asks:

“God, what are You going to do with what happened to me?”

The other asks:

“God, what are You asking me to endure because of what You’ve called me to do?”

And honestly?

I think the second question scares us a little more.

We love the idea of purpose.

We love calling.

We love talking about what God is building in us.

We love the testimony at the end of the story.

But we don’t always like the part where purpose costs us something.

And Jesus knew this better than anyone.

Jesus didn’t walk toward the cross thinking it was going to be easy.

He knew.

He knew betrayal was coming.

He knew rejection was coming.

He knew His friends would abandon Him.

He knew one of the people closest to Him would hand Him over.

He knew the suffering.

He knew the humiliation.

He knew the cross.

And yet He kept walking.

That’s the part that gets me.

Jesus didn’t continue because He didn’t understand the cost.

He continued because He understood the purpose.

There was pain in His purpose.

And He didn’t mistake the presence of pain for the absence of God’s will.

That’s something I think we desperately need to understand.

Because sometimes we assume that if something is from God, it should feel peaceful.

If God called us to it, it shouldn’t be this hard.

If we’re on the right path, surely there won’t be this much resistance.

But Jesus gives us a very different picture.

Sometimes obedience hurts.

Sometimes doing what God asks means disappointing people.

Sometimes it means walking away from something you desperately wanted.

Sometimes it means being misunderstood.

Sometimes it means choosing righteousness when sin would be easier.

Sometimes it means staying faithful when nobody is applauding.

Sometimes it means walking toward something while knowing exactly what it’s going to cost you.

And that doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve missed God.

It may mean you’re finally taking Him seriously.

We have to be careful, though.

I’m not saying every painful situation is God’s assignment.

Pain isn’t automatically proof that we’re doing God’s will.

Some pain is the consequence of our own decisions.

Some pain comes from living in a broken world.

Some pain is inflicted by other people.

And sometimes the godly thing to do is actually to walk away from something that’s hurting you.

So this isn’t about romanticizing suffering.

Jesus didn’t teach us to chase pain.

He taught us to follow God.

And sometimes following God will take us through places we wouldn’t have chosen for ourselves.

That’s where I think we get confused.

We ask God:

“How do I avoid this pain?”

when perhaps the better question is:

“Is this pain something I’m supposed to endure, or something I’m supposed to leave?”

That’s discernment.

Because there is a difference between suffering for your purpose and suffering because you’re refusing to let go of something God is asking you to release.

There is a difference between carrying a cross and carrying baggage.

And we need to know which one we’re carrying.

Jesus even prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane:

“Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”
Luke 22:42

Read that again.

Jesus didn’t pretend He wanted the suffering.

He didn’t deny the fear.

He didn’t stand there pretending the cross wasn’t going to hurt.

He brought the honest desire to God.

“If there is another way, let there be another way.”

But then came the surrender.

“Not my will, but Yours.”

That is not weakness.

That’s obedience with its eyes open.

And maybe that’s where some of us are right now.

Maybe you’re asking God to remove something because it’s painful, while God is asking you to decide whether the pain is actually part of the road.

Maybe you’re waiting for your calling to become easier before you take it seriously.

Maybe you’re waiting until you’re confident.

Until you’re ready.

Until everybody understands.

Until you know exactly how everything is going to turn out.

But what if that’s not how this works?

What if purpose isn’t always found on the other side of pain?

What if sometimes pain is sitting right in the middle of purpose?

The writer of Hebrews tells us that Jesus endured the cross “for the joy that was set before him.”

Notice the order.

The joy was ahead.

The cross was in front of Him.

He didn’t have to pretend the cross was beautiful.

He simply knew it wasn’t the end of the story.

And maybe that’s something we need to remember.

You don’t have to enjoy what obedience costs you.

You don’t have to call suffering beautiful while you’re in it.

You don’t have to pretend you’re fearless.

You can tell God, “I’m scared.”

You can tell Him, “I don’t want this.”

You can tell Him, “I don’t understand.”

And then you can still say,

“But if this is where You are leading me, I will follow You.”

That’s a different kind of faith.

Not the faith that says, “God will make this comfortable.”

The faith that says,

“Even if this becomes uncomfortable, I still trust the One who called me.”

And maybe that’s the question worth sitting with today.

Not just:

“God, what is the purpose in my pain?”

But:

“God, is there pain in the purpose You’re calling me toward?”

Because if there is, I don’t want to run from it simply because it’s uncomfortable.

I want enough wisdom to know the difference between a warning and a wilderness.

Between a closed door and a difficult assignment.

Between suffering I need to leave and suffering I need to endure.

And when God makes that clear?

I want to keep walking.

Not because I know exactly what waits at the end.

But because I know Who is walking with me.

Jesus knew what was ahead.

And He walked toward it anyway.

Maybe faith isn’t always believing that the road won’t hurt.

Maybe sometimes faith is knowing it will hurt and choosing obedience anyway.

A Prayer for the Road Ahead

Jesus,

Give me wisdom to recognize the difference between pain You are asking me to endure and pain You are asking me to leave.

Don’t let me run from obedience simply because it becomes uncomfortable.

But don’t let me glorify suffering that You never asked me to carry either.

Teach me to surrender my plans without surrendering my discernment.

Give me courage when I know the road ahead won’t be easy.

And when I cannot see the ending, help me trust the One who already does.

Not my will, but Yours.

Amen.

Sit With This

What if you’ve been asking God to remove the pain from your purpose when He’s actually asking you to trust Him through it?

And perhaps even harder:

What is God asking you to do that you already know will cost you something?

Don’t answer quickly.

Sit with it.

Pray over it.

And be honest.