The idea of joy in suffering is a pretty tough pill to swallow. It’s one I’ve wrestled with for years because, although it’s hard to perceive light in the dense fog of trials, Jesus and the saints say it is possible. I’m challenged to search beyond formidable sadness, grief, confusion—everything negative—to look for hope that is found in the proverbial grand scheme.

Since rattling off the litany of troubles at my door distracts from the point, suffice it to say that our ongoing challenges are significant; but this isn’t unique to me. We all face hard- hitting circumstances that leave us breathless, wishing the world would just pause so we could regain our strength. One hit me this week: I’m in over my head, I need help and I’ve always needed help.

Such “overwhelm” is a shot to my pride because I would love to think I can handle anything life throws at me without petitioning the Almighty for help. In His wisdom, however, the Lord responded to that notion in the Gospel of John, “Apart from Me, you can do nothing” (15:5). Not something. Nothing. I know Jesus constantly offers help and grace, but these can’t help me if I don’t cooperate.

I taught my youngest son to float last summer. In venturing beyond three feet deep, he was scared and flailed wildly even though I held him safely in my arms. He couldn’t float because he was too busy panicking. Pulling him in tight to reassure him, I coaxed, “You know what to do. Turn your face up and tell your body to calm.” He eventually stayed afloat on his back, excitement all over his face. “I calmed down, and I could do it!” he declared.

And so, amid relentless waves of difficulty, fix your eyes heavenward. With arms open in surrender, we can ask for any and every grace God has to help us endure. While suffering is part of the package deal of earthly life, being overtaken by it is optional.

“Blessed is the crisis that made you grow, the fall that made you gaze up to Heaven, the problem that made you look for God!” These words from St. Pio are a life raft. Whatever weighs on you, whatever overwhelms you to the point of recognizing your own powerlessness, is a gift in itself when it compels you to invite Him who is mercy into the thick of it.

He will come. My prayer in this season’s trials has been that God would reveal Himself to me. He is actually present to each of us every second of every day, but we’re blind sometimes, aren’t we? I made myself sit still and turn over in my head each of my present struggles. Initially weary, my soul brightened when I pinpointed the uplifting conversations with dear friends, dinners provided for our family, pleasant encounters with strangers and generosity from unexpected places. St. Faustina wrote beautifully in her diary, “Oh, I fear nothing; if God sends such great suffering to a soul. He upholds it with an even greater grace.” Identify even the smallest bits of happiness, the briefest moments of relief to recognize that the Lord keeps your heart afloat.

The Father did not spare His own Son from experiencing suffering, and therein lies the hope. Every obstacle and adversity in Christ’s life became a point of triumph because He entrusted it all to God the Father.

Suffering isn’t enjoyable. We look forward to when it’s done, but while we’re going through it, we can still rest. It’s tempting to brace ourselves, eyes squeezed shut, yelling “Tell me when it’s over!” Joy in suffering comes when we realize that, though we can’t handle the magnitude of our problems, the Lord can— and when we invite Him to, He will.

Katie Sciba is a national speaker and Catholic Press Award- winning columnist. Katie has been married for 15 years and is blessed with six children.

This article appeared in the August 2024 edition of The Catholic Telegraph Magazine. For your complimentary subscription, click here.