We recently explored the thorn in the flesh described by the Apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:1-10. Reflecting on this passage, I felt compelled to share some thoughts with Christian shepherds, though I hope they may resonate with all readers. It is often said that the most effective counselor is the person beside you in a moment of need. Indeed, we are all sufferers, we are all counselors, we are all lambs, and we are all shepherds.
As I write, I am acutely aware of the intense suffering faced by our fellow countrymen in Southern California. The scale of the disaster is catastrophic. The images flooding our screens convey loss, pain, bewilderment, and uncertainty. Before proceeding with reflections, it is only fitting that we pause to pray:
“Lord, hear our prayer for the sake of Thy Son, our Savior, and give hope to the people of Los Angeles and all areas impacted by these devastating fires. Please empower us to serve them in their time of need. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”
With that prayer in our hearts, I offer these reflections on the message from this past Sunday.
Suffering is not a virtue; suffering for Christ is. Peter teaches us how to respond to even the most impenetrable clouds of suffering:
“‘God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.’
Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:5b-7, NKJV)
In the mystery of God’s providence, we may experience physical or metaphysical pain, often both. To find meaning in suffering is sometimes possible, though not always discernible in the moment.
"The Lord’s people have always found their afflictions more supportable than their prosperity and have derived more real profit and soul advantage from storms and tempests than from the calmest and most prosperous seas." (John Flavel, The Mystery of Providence, 1678)
This saying resonates deeply with the experience of countless believers throughout history. Yet, we must also admit that there are times when the mystery of suffering becomes so opaque and its effects so devastating that even the most faithful cannot reconcile the presence of God's grace with His providence. What, then, is the role of the minister of the Gospel?
The Christian shepherd—be he minister, vicar, or pastor—can never afford to be merely philosophical about the nature of human suffering, for our Lord Jesus Christ was not. The minister’s calling is not to observe suffering from a detached distance nor to function as a hospice caretaker resigned to the incurable diseases of the soul. Instead, the minister must enter the fray, identify with the sufferer, and, most importantly, engage in the sacred tasks of assessing, diagnosing, and treating the spiritual pathology. Suffering demands biblical critical thinking and keen pastoral reflection aimed at shepherding the wounded lamb toward healing.
To suffer in silence is to endure a compounded injury: pain coupled with isolation. The thin membrane separating the physical and the spiritual is easily breached, allowing pain to migrate in both directions. Physical trauma, such as a severe migraine, often leaves a metaphysical imprint, as though scorching the fabric of the soul, leaving a dark spot on the human spirit. Likewise, spiritual depression can inflame the body, spreading its malaise through the veil that binds body and soul.
Like Jesus in Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-39) or Paul burdened by his “thorn in the flesh” (2 Corinthians 12:7-9), we too may be grieved to the point of death. A compassionate physician treats physical ailments with potent medicine, yet true healing remains elusive without addressing the metaphysical cause. Physical treatments alone cannot touch many afflictions' deeper, spiritual origin. The interplay between soul and body must be understood and accounted for in any meaningful attempt to heal the whole person. This interconnection—often overlooked—is central to the pastoral vocation.
St. John of the Cross (1542-1591), the Spanish mystic and significant figure of the Counter-Reformation, offers profound insight into the relationship between suffering and divine union. His The Dark Night of the Soul describes a spiritual journey through purgation and purification, using the metaphor of darkness to illustrate the soul’s struggle and eventual transformation.
He writes:
"O guiding night! O night more lovely than the dawn! O night that has united the Lover with His beloved, transforming the beloved in her Lover." (The Dark Night of the Soul, Book 2, Chapter 1)
For St. John, suffering is like a dark night, a shadow through which the brilliance of divine light can be perceived more vividly. The black velvet of the night reveals the stars that guide us toward union with God. In this, he echoes the truth that suffering is not inherently noble but can sharpen our attention to the eternal.
What if your suffering and mine were tools in the hands of the Lord to open our eyes and ears to His presence? In the silence of suffering, we might hear the voice of Psalm 22—the Psalm of the Cross. It is the Scripture that tells the story of Christ’s suffering for you, for me, and for all who turn to Him in repentance and faith. On the cross, Jesus endured a cosmic silence we can never fully comprehend. Even the Father turned His face away (Matthew 27:46) as the Son bore the sins of the world. Yet, through that silence, we hear the profound declaration: "God loves you."
Beloved, suffering has no inherent merit. Yet, if you listen with your heart, you will hear and experience the presence of the One who said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." (Hebrews 13:5). This One—Jesus Christ—is present here and now bidding you to come to Him by faith.
For ministers tending to the suffering, examine and probe with questions and prayer and practice differentiation in counseling. By faith, help the afflicted soul locate the source of their pain. Diagnose with wisdom and treat with compassion. Seek to minister to both the soul (the work of the spiritual physician, i.e., the pastor) and the body (the work of the physician), understanding their profound unity and the divine image they reflect.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
References:
Flavel, John. The Mystery of Providence. London: W. Marshall, 1678.
St. John of the Cross, The Dark Night of the Soul, trans. E. Allison Peers (New York: Image Books, 1959), 93.