Your Chains Carry Purpose: Finding Christ in Suffering
We live in a fallen world where suffering touches every life. The homeless suffer. The wealthy suffer. The middle class suffers. No one escapes hardship, but the question that defines us is this: Why do we suffer?
In our culture, we often view suffering as something to escape, avoid, or rebuke. We pray against cycles of difficulty, believing that obedience to God should shield us from pain. While it's true that sin brings consequences and suffering, there's another dimension of hardship we often overlook: the suffering that comes through following Jesus.
This isn't suffering as punishment—it's suffering as refinement. It's the refiner's fire that purifies us, shapes us, and makes us more like Christ. As the Psalmist declared, "It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn your decrees."
The Purpose Behind the Pain
When we think of suffering for Christ, our minds often jump to extreme persecution—imprisonment, physical harm, or martyrdom. But suffering for Jesus takes many forms: insults, rejection, mistreatment, and the daily dying to self that discipleship requires.
Suffering for the sake of Christ simply means choosing to endure hardships with faith, trusting that He is with you and shaping you through it.
Consider the apostle Paul's words from a Roman dungeon in Philippians 3:7-14. He writes with stunning clarity about his life's singular focus: "I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another, I will experience the resurrection from the dead."
Paul wasn't writing from a place of comfort. He was underground, in chains, in darkness. Yet his words overflow with purpose and joy. Why? Because Paul understood something revolutionary: his chains carried purpose.
Fire Reveals Truth
Imagine a conveyor belt running through fire. Place a tree trunk on it, and by the time it emerges on the other side, only ash remains. But place gold in that same fire, and something different happens. The impurities rise to the surface while the pure gold remains, refined and perfected.
God works the same way in our lives. The fire of suffering isn't meant to destroy us but to reveal what we're truly made of and to burn away the impurities that keep us from reflecting Christ more fully.
In scientific crystal production, manufacturers grow crystals used to detect radiation in airport scanners. After molding the crystal, they place it in an oven—not on low, not on medium, but on high heat. The extreme temperature causes impurities to rise to the surface, reshaping the crystal's structure so it can perform at its best.
The oven isn't comfortable or gentle. It's intense and transformative. And when we find ourselves in God's refining fire, the goal isn't simply to "come out on top." The goal is to know Christ more deeply.
Leaning Into Weakness
Our culture celebrates independence and self-reliance. We're taught to never give anyone "power over us," to be self-sufficient, to stand on our own. Weakness feels like failure.
But here's the beautiful paradox of the gospel: weakness does not disqualify us from God's presence. Weakness is often the place we encounter Him most.
There's a powerful story of a young couple who lost their infant son unexpectedly. The baby simply stopped breathing. The church rallied in prayer, having witnessed countless miracles before. They knew God could heal. The question was whether He would.
In His sovereignty, God chose to take that child home. At the funeral, those grieving parents testified of God's goodness with such power that two people gave their lives to Christ that day. In their deepest weakness and pain, Christ's strength rested upon them in a way that strengthened the faith of everyone watching.
This is the mystery Paul celebrated: "I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
The Cost of Discipleship
If we're honest, most of us would rather experience the power of Christ's resurrection than the fellowship of His suffering. Resurrection power is exciting—the lame walking, the blind seeing, the miraculous breakthroughs. These strengthen our faith in immediately recognizable ways.
But before Jesus resurrected, He suffered. The criticism. The mocking. The whips. The cross. The doorway to resurrection power is often found in the hallway of suffering.
In Luke 9:23, Jesus makes the cost clear: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me."
Deny yourself. Stop trying to define yourself. Hand over to Jesus the questions of who you are and what matters most. True identity isn't found in experiences, achievements, or self-discovery. It's found in being joined to Christ.
This is costly. It means Jesus governs what we post on social media, how we spend our time, who we spend it with, how we love our neighbors and enemies, and how we respond to Him with our lives.
Consider King David fleeing from his own son Absalom, who had betrayed him and seized the kingdom. As David fled, men from Saul's clan came out and hurled insults at him. David's guards asked permission to kill them, but David's response reveals his posture of surrender: "If this is the Lord's will for my life, may it be so."
Even in his lament, David denied himself the right to what he believed was his, fully committing everything to God.
Press On Toward the Prize
Paul concludes his letter with these words: "I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me... Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God through Christ Jesus is calling us."
Press on when it's painful. Press on when you don't understand. Press on when your questions are louder than your answers. Press on in your weakness because His power will rest upon you.
The reward of obedience isn't the thing God gives us afterward. The reward is always Jesus Himself.
If you're experiencing difficulty right now, trying to understand what God is doing in this season, remember this: God allows suffering in you because He sees potential in you to become more like Him. Like a coach who yells at the player with the most potential, God refines those He loves.
Your chains—whatever form they take—carry purpose. They are not random or meaningless. When leaned into with faith, your story will display the resurrection power of Christ as you walk through the hallway of suffering.
You are not alone. He is with you, closer than the air you breathe, shaping you, refining you, and inviting you into deeper intimacy with Him.
Suffering for Christ is an invitation to know Him more deeply. He doesn't waste pain. He transforms it.
We live in a fallen world where suffering touches every life. The homeless suffer. The wealthy suffer. The middle class suffers. No one escapes hardship, but the question that defines us is this: Why do we suffer?
In our culture, we often view suffering as something to escape, avoid, or rebuke. We pray against cycles of difficulty, believing that obedience to God should shield us from pain. While it's true that sin brings consequences and suffering, there's another dimension of hardship we often overlook: the suffering that comes through following Jesus.
This isn't suffering as punishment—it's suffering as refinement. It's the refiner's fire that purifies us, shapes us, and makes us more like Christ. As the Psalmist declared, "It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn your decrees."
The Purpose Behind the Pain
When we think of suffering for Christ, our minds often jump to extreme persecution—imprisonment, physical harm, or martyrdom. But suffering for Jesus takes many forms: insults, rejection, mistreatment, and the daily dying to self that discipleship requires.
Suffering for the sake of Christ simply means choosing to endure hardships with faith, trusting that He is with you and shaping you through it.
Consider the apostle Paul's words from a Roman dungeon in Philippians 3:7-14. He writes with stunning clarity about his life's singular focus: "I want to know Christ and experience the mighty power that raised him from the dead. I want to suffer with him, sharing in his death, so that one way or another, I will experience the resurrection from the dead."
Paul wasn't writing from a place of comfort. He was underground, in chains, in darkness. Yet his words overflow with purpose and joy. Why? Because Paul understood something revolutionary: his chains carried purpose.
Fire Reveals Truth
Imagine a conveyor belt running through fire. Place a tree trunk on it, and by the time it emerges on the other side, only ash remains. But place gold in that same fire, and something different happens. The impurities rise to the surface while the pure gold remains, refined and perfected.
God works the same way in our lives. The fire of suffering isn't meant to destroy us but to reveal what we're truly made of and to burn away the impurities that keep us from reflecting Christ more fully.
In scientific crystal production, manufacturers grow crystals used to detect radiation in airport scanners. After molding the crystal, they place it in an oven—not on low, not on medium, but on high heat. The extreme temperature causes impurities to rise to the surface, reshaping the crystal's structure so it can perform at its best.
The oven isn't comfortable or gentle. It's intense and transformative. And when we find ourselves in God's refining fire, the goal isn't simply to "come out on top." The goal is to know Christ more deeply.
Leaning Into Weakness
Our culture celebrates independence and self-reliance. We're taught to never give anyone "power over us," to be self-sufficient, to stand on our own. Weakness feels like failure.
But here's the beautiful paradox of the gospel: weakness does not disqualify us from God's presence. Weakness is often the place we encounter Him most.
There's a powerful story of a young couple who lost their infant son unexpectedly. The baby simply stopped breathing. The church rallied in prayer, having witnessed countless miracles before. They knew God could heal. The question was whether He would.
In His sovereignty, God chose to take that child home. At the funeral, those grieving parents testified of God's goodness with such power that two people gave their lives to Christ that day. In their deepest weakness and pain, Christ's strength rested upon them in a way that strengthened the faith of everyone watching.
This is the mystery Paul celebrated: "I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."
The Cost of Discipleship
If we're honest, most of us would rather experience the power of Christ's resurrection than the fellowship of His suffering. Resurrection power is exciting—the lame walking, the blind seeing, the miraculous breakthroughs. These strengthen our faith in immediately recognizable ways.
But before Jesus resurrected, He suffered. The criticism. The mocking. The whips. The cross. The doorway to resurrection power is often found in the hallway of suffering.
In Luke 9:23, Jesus makes the cost clear: "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me."
Deny yourself. Stop trying to define yourself. Hand over to Jesus the questions of who you are and what matters most. True identity isn't found in experiences, achievements, or self-discovery. It's found in being joined to Christ.
This is costly. It means Jesus governs what we post on social media, how we spend our time, who we spend it with, how we love our neighbors and enemies, and how we respond to Him with our lives.
Consider King David fleeing from his own son Absalom, who had betrayed him and seized the kingdom. As David fled, men from Saul's clan came out and hurled insults at him. David's guards asked permission to kill them, but David's response reveals his posture of surrender: "If this is the Lord's will for my life, may it be so."
Even in his lament, David denied himself the right to what he believed was his, fully committing everything to God.
Press On Toward the Prize
Paul concludes his letter with these words: "I press on to possess that perfection for which Christ Jesus first possessed me... Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God through Christ Jesus is calling us."
Press on when it's painful. Press on when you don't understand. Press on when your questions are louder than your answers. Press on in your weakness because His power will rest upon you.
The reward of obedience isn't the thing God gives us afterward. The reward is always Jesus Himself.
If you're experiencing difficulty right now, trying to understand what God is doing in this season, remember this: God allows suffering in you because He sees potential in you to become more like Him. Like a coach who yells at the player with the most potential, God refines those He loves.
Your chains—whatever form they take—carry purpose. They are not random or meaningless. When leaned into with faith, your story will display the resurrection power of Christ as you walk through the hallway of suffering.
You are not alone. He is with you, closer than the air you breathe, shaping you, refining you, and inviting you into deeper intimacy with Him.
Suffering for Christ is an invitation to know Him more deeply. He doesn't waste pain. He transforms it.
Pastor Valissa Calhoun
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