Pain. It’s not a word we often associate with purpose. Pain feels cruel, senseless, and unnecessary—a reality we would rather avoid. And yet, when it comes to God’s work in our lives, suffering becomes a tool in His hands, a chisel shaping us into the image of His Son.
The apostle Paul understood this truth when he wrote, “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope” (Rom. 5:3-4). Rejoice in suffering? It sounds impossible. But Paul wasn’t blind to pain. He was acquainted with it—shipwrecked, beaten, imprisoned, and betrayed. Still, he saw what we so often miss: God doesn’t waste our suffering. He works through it.
God’s goal is not our comfort; it is our transformation. Like a potter working clay, He shapes and molds us. And sometimes, the shaping is painful. The hard things in life—the losses we grieve, the disappointments we carry, the battles we fight—are the very tools He uses to form His character in us.
Consider the story of Joseph. Betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and thrown into prison—his life was marked by suffering. And yet, years later, Joseph looked back and declared to his brothers, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Gen. 50:20). Joseph’s trials were not meaningless. Through every hardship, God was preparing him for something greater—growing him into a man of integrity, wisdom, and faith.
The same is true for us. When life feels unfair and the weight of pain seems too much to bear, God is still working. He is not absent in the hardship; He is present in the process. He is shaping perseverance in place of weariness, faith in place of doubt, and hope in place of despair.
Jesus Himself walked this path. He knew what it was to suffer, to weep, to cry out in anguish. Isaiah called Him “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isa. 53:3). On the night before the cross, He fell to the ground and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42). In His pain, Jesus surrendered to the Father’s will, and through His suffering, salvation came to the world.
This is the God who shapes us—one who does not stand aloof from our pain but enters into it. He is the God who uses what the enemy means for harm and turns it into good. He does not waste a tear, a trial, or a tragedy.
But what happens when we can’t see the good? When the shaping feels more like breaking? When the story God is writing feels too heavy to carry?
The answer is trust. Trust in the character of the One holding the chisel. Trust in the Potter who knows exactly what He’s doing. Trust in His promise that, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion” (Phil. 1:6).
God is not after shallow growth or quick fixes. He is after depth—roots that can withstand the storms, faith that doesn’t crumble under pressure, and character that reflects Christ.
And when the shaping is done, when we look back on the trials that seemed too hard to endure, we will see His fingerprints on every moment. We will say with Joseph, “God meant it for good.”