Q6: The book is a treatise of your personal journey of suffering along with your theological grappling of the concept of suffering. How has suffering changed you?
A: There is no straightforward answer to the question of how suffering has changed me. My initial response is that a better question is how it hasn’t changed me. My journey through suffering has shaped who I am in ways that I’m still coming to terms with. My book, Blaming God – A Victim’s Journey, is a reflection of that journey—one that continues to unfold even as I write these words.
The Best Version of Myself?
Recently, my oldest daughter told me, “You’re the best possible version of yourself because of your suffering.” It’s a statement I’m still grappling with. I often find myself imagining other versions of myself—ones that might be more appealing, less broken, less scarred by pain. Couldn’t those versions of me have been just as plausible? Wouldn’t they be less repugnant to the idea of suffering? Am I even allowed to admit that I fantasize about a different version of myself?
James 1:2-4 reminds us, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
But here I am—this is me. Suffering has undeniably shaped who I am, even though I’m still working on accepting that reality. Maybe the best version of me is the one God shaped through the trials. I’d like to reject that notion, but perhaps it holds truth.
How Did I Get Here?
My youngest daughter says, “Here is good,” and I often wonder, how did I get here? Here with God, still so broken yet somehow whole. It makes no sense to me some days—how does God have me here, fully in His grasp, loving me with all my broken pieces? Why does He want me when I’m so openly flawed?
There are mornings I wake up and ask out loud, “What am I doing here? How did I get here?” It’s hard to look back over my life and understand how I ended up in this place, with God walking alongside me, day by day. Yet here we are—Him and I—both of us together, and He isn’t looking back. He’s making all things new (Revelation 21:5), even when I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand.
Fear and Control
When I think about suffering, I think about fear. And when I think about fear, I think about control. Isn’t that what fear really is—our desperate attempt to control or prevent suffering altogether? We try to manage our circumstances to avoid pain, to stay one step ahead of heartbreak. Yet, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that we are not in control—God is.
Deuteronomy 29:29 reminds us, “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.” I’m convinced that suffering is one of those secret things. We don’t always know why we suffer or what God’s plan is in the midst of it, but somehow, He uses it all for good. Even when we can’t understand why, God has a purpose for our pain.
Horatio Spafford and "It Is Well with My Soul"
Horatio Spafford’s story comes to mind when I think about suffering. He was a successful lawyer and businessman who endured unimaginable loss. His son died of scarlet fever, and he lost most of his business in the Great Chicago Fire. In an attempt to recover, he sent his wife and four daughters ahead of him on a ship to Europe, but tragedy struck again when the ship collided with another vessel. All four of his daughters perished. The telegram Horatio received from his wife simply read, “Saved alone.”
How did Horatio find the strength to write the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul” after such devastating loss? His story reminds me of Psalm 34:18, which says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Spafford’s experience shows us that suffering is unavoidable, but God never leaves us alone in it. Even when it feels like He does—even when we think God has jumped ship and left us to our sorrow—we often can’t see Him at the helm, steering us through the storm.
Suffering and Surrender
In our humanness, we want to believe in a feel-good faith that omits suffering. We wish God would show up at the stroke of midnight, just like in the movies, with the exact solution to our suffering—a miracle healing, the money needed to pay off debt, or the quick restoration of a broken relationship. But that’s not the reality most of us face. The reality is the crucifixion—the suffering Christ endured on the cross.
As 1 Peter 4:12-13 says, “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed.”
Full Surrender and Trust
Suffering is not something I fully understand. And to be honest—I still pray against it. I still pray with all my heart that God will prevent it—that somehow He will step in and divert the incoming grief. I still beg God to spare my children and family from it. But I’ve come to a place of accepting it as part of the journey. It’s a journey of full surrender—trusting that God is in control, even when I don’t have all the answers, or I feel like I’m crumpling under the weight of it.
The secret things belong to the Lord, as Deuteronomy 29:29 reminds us, and suffering is among those secret things. I don’t know why God allows it, and I often argue with Him against it, but I trust that He is using it for His greater purpose. My suffering has made me who I am. It has molded me, changed me, and connected me to Christ in ways I never could have imagined. To be blatant, if I had known these things upfront, I would not have allowed them.
Here Is Good
Some days, I still wonder how I ended up here. But here I am, and as my daughter says, “Here is good.” In all of my brokenness, in all of my questioning, I know that God is with me. He is using my suffering to shape me into the person He has called me to be. That person is different than who I thought I was or would be. That person is unique to God’s purpose of my life.
I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that suffering has brought me closer to Christ. And for that, I am grateful. It’s through suffering that I’ve learned to trust God more deeply, even when the journey seems incomprehensible.
Wherever you are on this journey—God is right beside you and He promises to make all things new. The challenge is not to try to jump ahead of Him and write the story ourselves.
The Best Version of Myself?
Recently, my oldest daughter told me, “You’re the best possible version of yourself because of your suffering.” It’s a statement I’m still grappling with. I often find myself imagining other versions of myself—ones that might be more appealing, less broken, less scarred by pain. Couldn’t those versions of me have been just as plausible? Wouldn’t they be less repugnant to the idea of suffering? Am I even allowed to admit that I fantasize about a different version of myself?
James 1:2-4 reminds us, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
But here I am—this is me. Suffering has undeniably shaped who I am, even though I’m still working on accepting that reality. Maybe the best version of me is the one God shaped through the trials. I’d like to reject that notion, but perhaps it holds truth.
How Did I Get Here?
My youngest daughter says, “Here is good,” and I often wonder, how did I get here? Here with God, still so broken yet somehow whole. It makes no sense to me some days—how does God have me here, fully in His grasp, loving me with all my broken pieces? Why does He want me when I’m so openly flawed?
There are mornings I wake up and ask out loud, “What am I doing here? How did I get here?” It’s hard to look back over my life and understand how I ended up in this place, with God walking alongside me, day by day. Yet here we are—Him and I—both of us together, and He isn’t looking back. He’s making all things new (Revelation 21:5), even when I feel like I’m sinking in quicksand.
Fear and Control
When I think about suffering, I think about fear. And when I think about fear, I think about control. Isn’t that what fear really is—our desperate attempt to control or prevent suffering altogether? We try to manage our circumstances to avoid pain, to stay one step ahead of heartbreak. Yet, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that we are not in control—God is.
Deuteronomy 29:29 reminds us, “The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.” I’m convinced that suffering is one of those secret things. We don’t always know why we suffer or what God’s plan is in the midst of it, but somehow, He uses it all for good. Even when we can’t understand why, God has a purpose for our pain.
Horatio Spafford and "It Is Well with My Soul"
Horatio Spafford’s story comes to mind when I think about suffering. He was a successful lawyer and businessman who endured unimaginable loss. His son died of scarlet fever, and he lost most of his business in the Great Chicago Fire. In an attempt to recover, he sent his wife and four daughters ahead of him on a ship to Europe, but tragedy struck again when the ship collided with another vessel. All four of his daughters perished. The telegram Horatio received from his wife simply read, “Saved alone.”
How did Horatio find the strength to write the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul” after such devastating loss? His story reminds me of Psalm 34:18, which says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Spafford’s experience shows us that suffering is unavoidable, but God never leaves us alone in it. Even when it feels like He does—even when we think God has jumped ship and left us to our sorrow—we often can’t see Him at the helm, steering us through the storm.
Suffering and Surrender
In our humanness, we want to believe in a feel-good faith that omits suffering. We wish God would show up at the stroke of midnight, just like in the movies, with the exact solution to our suffering—a miracle healing, the money needed to pay off debt, or the quick restoration of a broken relationship. But that’s not the reality most of us face. The reality is the crucifixion—the suffering Christ endured on the cross.
As 1 Peter 4:12-13 says, “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when His glory is revealed.”
Full Surrender and Trust
Suffering is not something I fully understand. And to be honest—I still pray against it. I still pray with all my heart that God will prevent it—that somehow He will step in and divert the incoming grief. I still beg God to spare my children and family from it. But I’ve come to a place of accepting it as part of the journey. It’s a journey of full surrender—trusting that God is in control, even when I don’t have all the answers, or I feel like I’m crumpling under the weight of it.
The secret things belong to the Lord, as Deuteronomy 29:29 reminds us, and suffering is among those secret things. I don’t know why God allows it, and I often argue with Him against it, but I trust that He is using it for His greater purpose. My suffering has made me who I am. It has molded me, changed me, and connected me to Christ in ways I never could have imagined. To be blatant, if I had known these things upfront, I would not have allowed them.
Here Is Good
Some days, I still wonder how I ended up here. But here I am, and as my daughter says, “Here is good.” In all of my brokenness, in all of my questioning, I know that God is with me. He is using my suffering to shape me into the person He has called me to be. That person is different than who I thought I was or would be. That person is unique to God’s purpose of my life.
I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that suffering has brought me closer to Christ. And for that, I am grateful. It’s through suffering that I’ve learned to trust God more deeply, even when the journey seems incomprehensible.
Wherever you are on this journey—God is right beside you and He promises to make all things new. The challenge is not to try to jump ahead of Him and write the story ourselves.