Spouse Suffering

Why Let Suffering Go to Waste? Finding Purpose in Life's Hardest Moments

There's an old piece of wisdom that goes something like this: In life, you only have two things to worry about—whether you're healthy or sick. If you're healthy, you've got nothing to worry about. But if you're sick, well, then you've got two more things to consider. The chain continues through recovery and decline, through life and death, through heaven and hell, until ultimately you arrive at a profound truth: we all face a fundamental choice about how we'll approach suffering.

Will we suffer with Christ, or will we suffer alone?

Suffering That Produces Something Beautiful

James tells us something counterintuitive about suffering: it actually produces mature faith. When we rejoice in our suffering, patience develops. Long-suffering grows our faith. This isn't masochism or denial—it's a profound spiritual truth that suffering, when walked through with Christ, becomes transformative rather than merely destructive.

The reality is simple yet profound: suffering is like breathing. It's part of life. We can spend our energy dodging, bobbing, weaving, and praying around it, but eventually, we have to go through it. The question isn't whether we'll suffer, but whether we'll suffer alone or united with Christ.

The Revolutionary Message to Ancient Ears

When we read passages about submission in 1 Peter 3, we're stepping into a world radically different from our own. In ancient Jewish law, women were considered property, owned by their husbands the same way sheep and goats were owned. A wife couldn't leave her husband, though he could dismiss her at will. For a wife to change her religion while her husband remained unchanged was unthinkable.

Greek civilization demanded that women remain indoors, obedient, seen as little as possible, heard as little as possible, asking as little as possible. Roman law treated women as perpetual children, subject first to their fathers and then to their husbands.

Into this oppressive context, Christianity arrived with a revolutionary message. When Peter wrote to wives about submission, he wasn't endorsing the cultural status quo—he was navigating an incredibly complicated reality. Women were coming to faith in Christ while their husbands remained pagan. These women faced genuine danger, yet they also carried something powerful: Christ living within them, sanctifying their households through their presence.

The instruction wasn't about spineless submission but voluntary selflessness—a radical trust that Christ would work through their quiet faithfulness. This was silent preaching, a reverence and love so compelling that it needed no words.

As Francis of Assisi reportedly said: "Do everything in your power to win people to Christ. And if you must, use words."

Jesus and the Dignity of Women

Jesus did something unprecedented in his treatment of women. He taught them theology and spiritual truth, treating them as intellectual and spiritual equals. Remember Mary sitting at the rabbi's feet while Martha worked in the kitchen? No women did that in first-century Judaism. Yet Jesus affirmed Mary's choice, declaring she had chosen the right thing.

Throughout the book of Acts, we see the fruit of this revolutionary approach. Women led Bible studies. Slave women who came to Christ sometimes taught their owners who also came to faith. The cultural upheaval was so dramatic that it made Christians easy targets for persecution. Rumors spread that they were cannibalistic (misunderstanding communion), that women were taking rebellious roles, that they were dividing households.

The truth declared in Galatians 3 remains stunning: "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, nor is there male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." In our relationship with Christ, there is no hierarchy of access, no second-class citizenship, no barriers between souls and their Savior.

The Shadow Suffering We Carry

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of suffering is what we might call "shadow suffering"—those triggers and wounds we've covered up with busyness, denial, or superficial forgiveness. We're triggered by certain phrases, certain memories, certain smells. These shadows represent parts of ourselves that haven't yet been fully united with Christ in his healing work.

Christ won't force his way into these shadows. He waits for the invitation. He asks us to bring our entire selves—every hurt, every betrayal, every trespass against us—into union with him. This is what true surrender means: being united with Christ so he can be Lord, Lover, and Savior in every corner of our lives.

The word "trespass" is instructive here. It means a deliberate, willful violation of someone's sacred space—physical, emotional, intellectual, sexual, or relational. Jesus himself was trespassed against. He was lied about, falsely accused, beaten, mocked, humiliated, and nailed to a cross. He understands the depth of our suffering because he experienced it himself.

The Mystery of Healing

At the Pool of Bethesda, Jesus encountered a man who had been sick for thirty-eight years. Jesus asked him a penetrating question: "Do you want to be made well?" After healing him, Jesus found the man again and said, "See, you have been made well. Sin no more, or something worse will come upon you."

This isn't about blaming sick people for their conditions. Rather, it points to a profound truth: sometimes our healing requires our participation. Physical infirmity often accompanies suffering in other areas of life. Christ wants to be united with us in all these things.

Groaning in the Spirit

Romans 8 tells us that the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. We don't know what to pray for, but the Spirit intercedes for us with wordless groans. When we're triggered, when memories surface, when pain threatens to overwhelm us, we don't have to panic and shut down. We can breathe deeply and groan in the Spirit, trusting that God searches our hearts and knows what we need.

God works for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose. Part of that purpose is being joined with him in our suffering. This is the good news of the kingdom—not that we'll avoid pain, but that we'll never face it alone.

Suffering will come again, like breathing, as part of this life. But we can grow and mature through it, learning to forgive and be set free from the chains of bitterness and resentment that bind us. Why let suffering go to waste when it can become the very thing that transforms us into the image of Christ?