Where Is God When We Suffer?
There are moments when faith feels less like certainty and more like a conversation with the cross.
Where were You when the trial began? Where were You when trauma created distance between us? Where were You when anxiety stole my smile or depression changed the way I saw myself and others?
I have prayed beneath the cross and preached beneath the cross. I have watched the cross bring hope, healing, and revival. Yet suffering remains—and sometimes its weight becomes almost too much to carry.
The Bible does not silence questions like these. It gives us words for them:
“My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Why are you so far away when I groan for help?
Every day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer.
Every night I lift my voice, but I find no relief.”
—Psalm 22:1–2
The Psalms make room for an honest cry. We do not have to approach God with polished words or carefully concealed pain. We can come to Him with our confusion, anger, grief, and unanswered questions. He is not frightened by our honesty. He is a good listener and a faithful comforter.
Suffering Does Not Mean Something Strange Is Happening
Peter wrote his first letter to Christians scattered throughout Asia Minor who were suffering because of their faith. He reminded them that they possessed a living hope through Jesus Christ. Their suffering was temporary, God’s grace was sufficient, and their lives still had a holy purpose.
Because Christ suffered, Peter taught His followers to adopt the same mindset. Following Jesus does not eliminate suffering; it changes how we understand and endure it. Our lives are no longer governed by self-preservation or the approval of the world. We belong to Christ.
That new life comes with responsibility. Peter calls believers to pray with discipline, love one another deeply, practice hospitality, and faithfully use the gifts God has given them. Every act of service and every word we speak should ultimately point people toward Jesus.
Then Peter addresses the suffering directly:
“Dear friends, don’t be surprised when the fiery ordeal comes among you to test you, as if something unusual were happening to you. Instead, rejoice as you share in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may also rejoice with great joy when his glory is revealed.”
—1 Peter 4:12–13
Peter is not telling us to pretend that pain is pleasant. He is teaching us that suffering does not mean God has abandoned us. We should not expect the world to treat the followers of Jesus better than it treated Jesus Himself.
But that still leaves a painful question: If I am trying to live faithfully, why does the suffering continue?
The Question of Evil Points Toward God
The suffering in our world can make belief in God difficult. People sometimes ask, “If God exists, why is there so much evil?”
That is a legitimate question—but our recognition of evil also raises another question: By what standard do we call something evil?
Imagine three students receive grades of 90, 70, and 50. Those grades only have meaning because a standard exists against which each one is measured. In the same way, when we identify cruelty, injustice, and suffering as wrong, we are comparing them to some standard of goodness.
Our outrage at evil reveals that we believe the world ought to be different. We possess an awareness of goodness, justice, and human worth that evil has violated. The existence of evil does not make the question of God disappear; it points us toward the need for a perfect source of goodness.
Christianity does not give us a God who observes suffering safely from a distance. It gives us Jesus—the Son of God who entered our suffering, carried our sorrows, endured injustice, and went willingly to the cross.
Trusting God in the Darkest Moments
Peter concludes his teaching with this instruction:
“So then, let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust themselves to a faithful Creator while doing what is good.”
—1 Peter 4:19
Trusting God is not always accompanied by peaceful emotions or easy answers. Sometimes trust is a decision made through tears, trembling, and chaotic thoughts. In those moments, trusting God may be the most courageous thing a suffering person can do.
Recently, I experienced the return of suicidal thoughts. What began passively became active. The weight felt unbearable, and I spent much of a family weekend alone in a bedroom.
But people came into the room.
My wife sat with me and read. Other family members came and stayed. They did not arrive with perfect explanations. They offered their presence—and their presence helped change the weight of that moment.
Sometimes we are waiting for God to say something while overlooking the people He has sent to sit beside us. We ask, “God, where are You?” while He is already revealing His presence through the people who refuse to leave us alone in the fire.
We must keep our eyes open. God’s presence may not arrive in the form we expected, but He is with us.
Lament Is Not the Opposite of Faith
Jeremiah, the writer of Lamentations, understood affliction and darkness. Yet in the middle of his grief, he deliberately remembered the character of God:
“Yet I call this to mind, and therefore I have hope:
Because of the Lord’s faithful love we do not perish,
for his mercies never end.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness!”
—Lamentations 3:21–23
His lament did not disqualify his faith. It became a doorway into deeper faith.
We can bring everything to God. Our anger does not drive Him away. Our questions do not overwhelm Him. Honest lament can become honest communion.
God is not necessarily absent from the fire. He may be meeting us within it. As we remain connected to Christ through grace, prayer, love, and community, He uses even the fire to refine us and form us into the people He created us to be.
Jesus Is a Fellow Sufferer
Peter did not write about suffering as a detached observer. He had witnessed the sufferings of Christ, and he knew what it meant to suffer himself.
Most importantly, Jesus understands.
He was despised and rejected. He carried our weaknesses and sorrows. He was wounded so that we could be made whole. At the cross, God did not merely explain suffering—He entered it.
Looking back, I can see how God has sometimes used my scars to help me meet other hurting people where they are. The wounds I would never have chosen have become places through which His compassion can reach someone else.
This does not make the pain easy. It does remind us that God does not waste what we surrender to Him.
Lay the Weight Down
Perhaps you are carrying something you have not yet said aloud.
You may be facing a diagnosis, a door that suddenly closed, a future that frightens you, or a faith that currently brings more questions than answers. You may be asking, “Are You there? Where are You? Why is this happening to me?”
Peter did not write to people who had everything together. He wrote to the scattered, the suffering, and those who felt like strangers in their own lives.
His message to them—and to us—is this: Keep doing what is right, and entrust your life to your faithful Creator.
You were never meant to carry every weight alone. Bring it honestly to Jesus. Share it with trustworthy people who can pray, listen, and remain present. Lay it down at the cross.
The cross does not shift. It stands upon a firm foundation. Even when we reach rock bottom, we discover that Christ is already there—and the Rock is strong enough to begin building us again.
God does not abandon us in our suffering. He meets us there, deepens our dependence upon Christ, and prepares us to strengthen others.
So let go of the weight. Let others help you carry it. Trust the One who carried the cross for you.
He will not fail you.
If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts or believe you may harm yourself, do not face that moment alone. God is ready to listen. Share your burden with a pastor or person in your church. Talk to someone today. In the United States, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, call 911 if you are in immediate danger, or go to the nearest emergency room. Tell someone you trust and ask them to stay with you.