Our roads don’t all look the same.
Some of us stumble through short seasons of suffering, while others learn to live in it — day after day, breath after breath.
This is for the ones still in that place.
The ones learning to wait on the Lord when the pain doesn’t end, when the healing hasn’t come, and when faith feels like holding on with trembling hands.
🌿 The Journey We Don’t All Share
We are not all in the same place on this journey.
It can be hard to relate to someone’s pain when either:
You’ve never experienced it yourself, or
You have — but it was so brief that it quickly faded from memory.
But what about the person who doesn’t get better?
The one who wakes up every day with the same ache that never leaves?
Maybe you’ve been sick before — the flu, a bad infection, or a surgery that had you laid up for weeks. You felt miserable, but eventually you recovered. Relief came.
Or maybe a loved one was the one who suffered — your child, your spouse, your pet. You were sick with worry. You rallied prayers, and people surrounded you with love and support. Then healing came. The panic lifted, and you breathed again.
But for some, the relief never comes.
The illness stays. The pain lingers.
There are people, like Joni Eareckson Tada, who never got to take that deep breath of relief. Paralyzed at seventeen from a diving accident, she still lives with chronic, agonizing pain. And yet, she spends her life proclaiming the hope of Jesus — not for pity, but for purpose. Her faith shines through every limitation, reminding us that peace isn’t the absence of pain but the presence of Christ in the midst of it.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9
🪶The Story of Us: Living in the “Not Yet”
I share that because I understand.
I live with chronic illness myself, and I care for my husband, Joey — a disabled veteran who also faces daily pain and uncertainty. For reasons I may never fully understand, God has said “not yet” to our healing. But in the waiting, He has taught us to trust, to endure, and to do the next thing.
The other day, my son Noah watched his dad struggle and said,
“Daddy is the strongest person, isn’t he? He fights every day.”
I said, “Yes, he does. He keeps trusting the Lord for what he needs in a day.”
Then Noah asked,
“Which disease is worse — Dad’s or yours?”
I told him, “We don’t compare, buddy. Everyone has their own lot.”
I reminded him how helpless he feels when he loses his glasses (he’s blind as a bat), or how miserable he is when sick with a bad cold.
“Our bodies are broken,” I told him. “Eventually our bodies will fail us, because we live in a fallen world. But God promises us new bodies one day — ones that won’t fail.”
Both my husband and I face chronic illnesses that come with a flood of symptoms — seasons that last days, weeks, even months.
Yet through every wave, we keep learning to wait on the Lord for renewal and strength.
We pray.
We don’t compare.
We trust.
We keep going.
We do the next thing.
“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”
— Isaiah 40:31
🙏 When People Don’t Understand
I also know what it’s like to choose to walk beside someone who suffers — and how rare that kind of love can be.
I make the effort because I know what it means to be that person in pain. Compassion doesn’t come from comfort; it comes from experience.
There are some who will never fully understand the strength it takes to live a painful journey and still encourage others through it.
That’s not weak faith.
Yet, I’ve been told that my faith must be weak — because healing hasn’t come.
But what they fail to see is that it takes strong faith to keep waiting.
To trust that what God is doing in the unseen — in the heart, in the sanctification process — is just as powerful and miraculous as a physical healing.
Faith that waits is not lesser faith; it is refined faith.
“No one who trusts in You will ever be put to shame.”
— Psalm 25:3
🌟 Examples of Faith That Endures
There are those who shame others because their healing looks different, or hasn’t come at all. But many of the strongest believers in history died still waiting — and they died in faith.
The list is too long to write out, but here are a few that come to mind — and one still enduring:
Nabeel Qureshi, who shared the gospel even while battling cancer, died trusting Christ.
Elisabeth Elliot, who endured loss, widowhood, and later dementia, clung to her Bible until her final breath.
Voddie Baucham Jr., battled serious heart failure, continued to teach truth under trial and point others to Christ through endurance, also died trusting Christ.
Joni Eareckson Tada, who continues to endure daily pain while pointing thousands to Jesus.
Their lives show us that perseverance in suffering is not weakness — it is Spirit-given strength.
“The joy of the Lord is your strength.”
— Nehemiah 8:10
🕊️ Learning to Suffer Well
I’ve known many believers who died in faith, never healed on this side of heaven. Still, they taught me what it truly means to suffer well.
Their examples remind me that pain is not evidence of God’s absence, but often the very place where His grace becomes most visible.
In that holy classroom of suffering, I am both a student and a teacher — learning through weakness, sharing through experience, and trusting that His grace is enough to help us finish the race well.
That’s what I hope to be for someone else — especially for my children who witness our journey.
For anyone walking this same road of learning: you are not alone.
“Wait on the Lord. He will renew your strength. Your trust is not in vain.”
Because one day, we will mount up on wings like eagles and soar past all this pain.
Until then, we keep waiting — not in despair, but in hope.
“Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:16
🙌 Prayer
Lord, for the one reading this who feels unseen in their pain, remind them that You are near — and You are enough.
Give them strength for the next step, peace for the waiting, and hope that looks beyond this moment to eternity.
Thank You for refining faith through fire and for using weakness to show Your strength.
May we learn to forgive those who have not understood our pain — those who have spoken carelessly or looked away.
And may You, in Your mercy, open their eyes to see, their hearts to feel, and their hands to serve those who are suffering.
Help us to keep doing the next thing — for Your glory and for the good of others.
Amen.