Purpose Driven Suffering

Have you ever wondered why your pain matters? In a world obsessed with comfort and convenience, suffering often feels like a cruel interruption—something to be medicated away, avoided at all costs, or hidden behind a false façade.

Back in the early 2000s there was an evangelical pastor, Rick Warren, who wrote a bestselling Christian book called The Purpose Driven Life. I'm not going to get into the weeds on that book, or really criticize it here in any way, but the book's popularity really spoke to the fact that people are looking for meaning and purpose in what seems to often be a meaningless existence, a purposeless life.

I want to go a little deeper than that. Finding your "purpose" isn't just about figuring out a mission to contribute to, or a committee to join, or establishing a little fiefdom in your own congregation or parish.

Purpose, rather, can be discovered through things that often find us... in a most unwelcome way.

I'm talking about purpose in suffering. Said better, I'm talking about redemptive suffering.

The issue of "suffering," or "why bad things happen to good people," is often at the crux (pun intended?) of atheist objections to God's existence. A friend of mine, in fact, has said often (I paraphrase from memory), "If you're going to give God all the credit for all the good things in life, then the bad things are on him, too."

I can't disagree, given his phrasing... though not the way he means it when he says it. God can't be blamed for our suffering, but He does take it on, in a way far more powerful and profound that you might imagine.

I've often written in these meditations when talking about the "problem of suffering," that God doesn't merely "remove" suffering from the world. He does better. He enters into it. After all, if we had a God who actually intervened and stopped every evil from happening, if he shielded us from every trouble or tribulation, would we truly understand or appreciate it? Or, given our sinful propensity to be bent inward toward the self, would we take it for granted? I think the latter. It's not really that debatable.

In fact, I find the way of discussing God's redemption and salvation, as an entering-into sorrow, a redemption of suffering and even death itself, a better way to talk about the "atonement" than the supposed penal-substitution idea, that Jesus "suffered" for our sake, so we don't have to. I'm not going to go into some of the issues with that model (I did that in a post titled "Courtroom Salvation?" a while back) but suffice it to say, Jesus didn't suffer so that you and I can be more comfortable. It wasn't merely so that the punishment due to sin could be levied on someone (as if God is some kind of tyrant, demanding a pound of flesh) while you get off scot-free.

He suffered so that all suffering might in the eyes of faith forevermore be redeemed in His suffering.

What if our suffering, rather than being meaningless, could serve a purpose? I'm not just talking about the idea that God can bring good things out of bad things, either. It's deeper than that. What if the very experiences we most wish to escape could become channels of grace for others? What if in our sufferings the cross of Christ could be applied to the people we're called to love, the people God loves so much that He gave his only Son (John 3:16-17).

 

The Biblical Foundation of Redemptive Suffering

Participation in Christ's Sufferings

The apostle Paul presents a startling revelation about suffering that fundamentally challenges our natural aversion to pain:

"Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Col 1:24).

This passage has perplexed interpreters across centuries. How could anything be "lacking" in Christ's perfect sacrifice? The Greek phrase "τὰ ὑστερήματα τῶν θλίψεων τοῦ Χριστοῦ" (ta hysterēmata tōn thlipseōn tou Christou) does not suggest insufficiency in Christ's redemptive work. Rather, it points to our mysterious participation in the ongoing application of Christ's redemption throughout history.

The verb Paul uses—"ἀνταναπληρῶ" (antanaplērō)—is a compound form intensifying the sense of "filling up." It suggests a reciprocal action: Christ suffered for us, and now we, in turn, suffer with and in him. This creates a profound communion between the believer's sufferings and those of Christ.

Have you ever thought about that? How amazing is it that what Jesus wants us to participate in is what He did to save the entire world? He could have saved it all alone, God the Father could have just snapped his fingers and restored all things the way He wanted, but because God is love, a love that transcends our comprehension as shared between the three persons of the Trinity--He chose to redeem us in a way that perfectly manifested His character, His love. And since love always envelops another, He bids each of us for whom He died to participate in His redemption.

This participation is not a supplementation of Christ's all-sufficient sacrifice but an extension of it. As St. John Henry Newman articulates this theme, "To approach our Lord... is to partake in his suffering" (John Henry Newman, Sermons Bearing on Subjects of the Day, Sermon 20, "Bodily Suffering," 296). This sentiment reflects the understanding that suffering, when united with Christ, transcends mere passive endurance.

The Transformation of Suffering's Meaning

Christ fundamentally transformed suffering's meaning. What was once only a consequence of sin became, through his passion, a potential vehicle for redemption:

"For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake" (Phil 1:29).

The Greek verb "ἐχαρίσθη" (echaristhē) translated as "granted" literally means "given as a grace" or "gift." Remarkably, Paul presents suffering for Christ not as a burden but as a privilege—a divine gift. We could translate this verse as, "For it has been graced to you..." How amazing is that? This represents a complete inversion of natural human attitudes toward suffering.

Suffering as Participation in Divine Love

When united to Christ, human suffering becomes participation in the redemptive love of God. This is no mere theological abstraction but a lived reality that transforms the experience of suffering itself.

This participation flows from our baptismal incorporation into Christ:

"Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life" (Rom 6:3-4).

Through baptism, we enter into Christ's death and resurrection—and by extension, into his redemptive suffering.

Indeed, this profound understanding of suffering has been echoed throughout Christian tradition. St. John Chrysostom affirmed the transformative power of endurance, stating, "If there were no tribulation, there would be no rest; if there were no winter, there would be no summer" (John Chrysostom, Homilies on the Statues, Homily 13, no. 5). In modern times, Pope St. John Paul II, in his apostolic letter Salvifici Doloris, extensively explored the meaning of human suffering in union with Christ: "Suffering is present in the world in order to unleash love, in order to give birth to works of love towards neighbor, in order to transform the whole of human civilization into a 'civilization of love'" (John Paul II, Salvifici Doloris, no. 18).

But can Protestants embrace this idea, too? I think so. Martin Luther, in his "Theology of the Cross" presented in the Heidelberg Disputation (1518), profoundly distinguished between a "theology of glory" and a "theology of the cross."

A theology of glory, Luther argued, seeks to know God through His visible power, wisdom, and glory in creation and human achievement. It looks for God where human reason and senses expect to find Him—in strength, triumph, and outward splendor. This approach often leads to human pride and an attempt to earn salvation through works, as it focuses on what humanity can achieve or perceive.

In contrast, a theology of the cross acknowledges that God reveals Himself most truly and redemptively in the suffering, weakness, and foolishness of the Cross. It sees God not in overwhelming power, but in vulnerability; not in human merit, but in divine grace; not in worldly success, but in self-sacrificial love. Luther famously stated, "A theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it actually is" (Heidelberg Disputation, Thesis 21, LW 31, p. 53). This perspective holds that true understanding of God and salvation comes through embracing the scandal of the cross, which appears as weakness but is, in fact, God's ultimate strength and love.

This aligns profoundly with the concept of redemptive suffering, where our weakness and pain, united with Christ's, become a means of grace.

Luther further emphasized this participatory dimension:

"The sufferings of Christians are the sufferings of Christ, not because they are worthy, as were Christ's, to be called the sufferings of Christ, but because Christ truly suffers in his members" (Martin Luther, Lectures on Galatians (1535), LW 26:24).

Catholic theologians have also echoed this profound understanding of God's self-revelation in weakness. For instance, Hans Urs von Balthasar emphasized that "It is to the Cross that the Christian is challenged to follow his Master: no path of redemption can make a detour around it" (Hans Urs von Balthasar, Unless You Become Like This Child, 71). This highlights the centrality of suffering in the Christian path and its non-negotiable role in redemption. Similarly, Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger) stated, "Only if we give meaning to pain and suffering can our life mature. I would say above all there can be no love without suffering, no gift of life without pain because love always implies renouncement of myself" (Joseph Ratzinger, quoted in Jeff Mirus, "The Benedict XVI Lecture: Science, Sin, Suffering, and the Fall," Catholic Culture, November 18, 2024).

Both Balthasar and Ratzinger converge on the idea that the Cross is not merely an event but the very heart of God's revelation, inviting believers to find Him in vulnerability and suffering rather than solely in triumph.

Suffering as Intercessory Love

When we unite our sufferings to Christ's, they take on an intercessory dimension. Our pain becomes a prayer, our wounds become windows through which grace flows to others.

Paul expresses this mysterious reality: "I am now rejoicing in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Col 1:24, underline added).

This intercessory aspect allows us to offer our sufferings for others. When we endure physical pain, emotional distress, or spiritual darkness with the intention of benefiting others, we participate in Christ's own redemptive love. Our suffering becomes a channel of grace, a means through which God's love reaches those in need.

Peter emphasizes that suffering for Christ's sake is not an anomaly but a normal part of the Christian life, a participation in Christ's own experience. It is a "fiery trial" meant to refine and test faith:

"Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange is happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed." (1 Pet 4:12-13, bold added).

The Greek verb "κοινωνεῖτε" (koinōneite) translated as "share" carries the sense of communion or participation. Our sufferings become redemptive when we consciously enter into communion with Christ's own suffering.

In practical terms, this means approaching our trials with the mindset: "Lord, I unite this suffering with your cross, offering it for [specific intention]." This transforms passive endurance into active participation in Christ's redemptive work.

Consider how different this is from our natural response to suffering. We typically ask, "Why is this happening to me?" The perspective of redemptive suffering transforms this question into, "For whom can I offer this?" It shifts our focus from self-protection to self-gift.

From Self-Pity to Self-Gift

Redemptive suffering moves us from self-pity to self-gift. Christ's example shows us suffering embraced not as victimhood but as an expression of love:

"Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends" (Jn 15:13).

The Greek phrase "τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ θῇ" (tēn psychēn autou thē) literally means "places his soul," suggesting not just physical death but a complete self-giving. This exemplifies how suffering, when embraced in love, becomes a gift rather than merely something to be endured.

When we suffer—whether from illness, loss, rejection, or persecution—we stand at a crossroads. We can turn inward in self-pity or outward in self-gift. The path of redemptive suffering invites us to the latter: to transform our pain into prayer, our wounds into worship, our crosses into channels of compassion.

Common Misunderstandings of Redemptive Suffering

Not Glorification of Suffering Itself

Redemptive suffering does not glorify suffering for its own sake. Christianity is not masochistic; it does not teach that pain itself is good. Rather, it recognizes that in a fallen world where suffering is inevitable, Christ has given us a way to transform it.

Jesus himself healed the sick, comforted the afflicted, and relieved suffering wherever he encountered it. The Christian approach to suffering is both to alleviate it where possible and to transform it where necessary.

It's not that suffering is a good in-and-of-itself, rather, the redemption of suffering, even when it's afflicted through the actions of sinful men (or the devil) testifies to the fact that no sin, not sorrow, no hardship, not even the devil himself is so powerful that God can't take the worst of it all and use it for our salvation.

That's how awesome our God is. Even the worst we experience, in His pierced hands, is re-formed into the greatest good.

Not Passive Acceptance of Evil

Redemptive suffering does not mean passive acceptance of evil or injustice. Jesus himself confronted evil, challenged injustice, and worked to relieve unnecessary suffering. The Christian is called both to work against unnecessary suffering and to transform unavoidable suffering through union with Christ.

Not a Denial of Emotions

Embracing redemptive suffering does not mean denying the natural emotions that accompany pain. Jesus himself wept at Lazarus's tomb (Jn 11:35), experienced anguish in Gethsemane (Mt 26:38), and cried out in abandonment on the cross (Mt 27:46).

The path of redemptive suffering passes through honest acknowledgment of pain, not around it. We can both acknowledge our suffering's reality and offer it in love. As the psalms declare: "I am afflicted and in pain; let your salvation, O God, set me on high" (Ps 69:29).

Indeed, to embrace redemptive suffering is not to suppress our emotions but to bring them into the light of Christ's love. It is a journey of honesty and vulnerability before God, allowing Him to transform our pain into a source of healing for ourselves and others.

May we always remember the profound invitation to unite our sorrows with those of Christ, offering them up for the redemption and consolation of all. In this act of selfless love, we find meaning, purpose, and a glimpse of the eternal glory that awaits those who endure with faith and hope in the One who suffered out of love for us all.

In Jesus' name,

Judah