Bleeding Love: Find Joy in the Midst of Suffering
"We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given among the churches of Macedonia, for in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part." — 2 Corinthians 8:1-2 (ESV)
Not many in the Bible suffered more than Paul, yet he had great joy. Picture him and Silas in the Philippian jail — beaten, bleeding, their feet fastened in the stocks — and at midnight they're singing hymns to God (Acts 16:25). Years later, from another prison, Paul would send his most joyful letter back to that very city — Philippians. The joy he'd sung in that cell became the message he pressed on them: "Rejoice in the Lord always" (Philippians 4:4). His joy in suffering wasn't a one-time spark; it was a settled way of life. How did Paul find such deep joy amid such incredible suffering?
I believe it's because Paul saw his affliction as a reflection of Jesus' own suffering. In other words, Paul felt closest to Jesus when he suffered as Jesus did — and from that closeness came a supernatural joy. Think of it this way: Jesus loved, and He bled. When He loved us most — dying on the cross for our sins — He bled the most. If we are to be like Him, we should expect to suffer and bleed as well. We are never more like Jesus than when we suffer, especially for righteousness' sake. And when we are like Him, we experience Him — and when we experience Him, we rejoice.
The Macedonian believers are a powerful example. These were churches born under persecution and living in deep poverty — pressed on every side, with little to their name. Yet their joy overflowed. Paul says they gave "according to their means… and beyond their means, of their own accord" — in fact, they "begged him earnestly for the favor" of being allowed to give to believers even worse off than themselves (2 Corinthians 8:3-4). Sit with that: people with almost nothing, pleading for the privilege of giving it all away. Their circumstances screamed scarcity; their hearts poured out abundance. That's what joy in Christ does — it doesn't wait for the pain to lift or the account to fill up; it overflows right in the middle of the pain and the lack, because its source isn't circumstances but Christ Himself.
John Piper puts his finger on it: as he has often taught, some of the deepest joy Christians know comes in their seasons of greatest distress. But remember — joy is not the same as happiness. Piper isn't saying believers are always happy in great pain; he's saying they can still have joy even as they endure it. He has even described believers so close to Christ in their suffering that they feared losing that closeness if the pain lifted. Imagine being so close to the Lord in your hardest hour that you'd fear letting go of that nearness, even to be free of the grief.
Believers need not be dependent on their circumstances. Their joy comes not from what they have, but from what they are; not from where they are, but from whose they are; not from what they enjoy, but from whom they serve and seek to please.
So — are you in a season of suffering? Do you wish your joy could rise above your despair? If you're like me, you might be beating yourself up, thinking that if you were a "better" Christian, you'd feel this transcendent joy — if you just did more, prayed more, went to church more, gave more, or sinned less. But the Lord knows your heart. He knows exactly where you are, and He loves you just the same. So don't beat yourself up. I'd argue you're exactly where you need to be — hungry for more of Jesus. That's a good place to be. We are never more at home than when we're seeking Him to fill our hearts with His joy.
BIG IDEA: Joy is not the absence of suffering — it is the presence of Christ in the midst of it. The closer we draw to Him in our pain, the deeper our experience of His joy becomes.
Questions to Ponder: Are you in a season of suffering right now? Are you struggling to feel much joy — and if so, do you pile guilt on top of it, as if a stronger Christian would handle it better? When suffering drains your joy, what's your go-to move — do you numb out, distract yourself, stay busy, power through and pretend you're fine, or pull away, whether from people or even from God? After today's reading, what would a better move look like — one that turns toward Christ in the middle of the pain rather than away from Him?
Application: Either way, do this with your journal open — because what we write down, we remember.
If you're in the middle of it right now, don't start with a task; start with a turning. Wherever you are, tell Him the truth: "Lord, this hurts, and I need You." You don't have to feel joyful or find the right words — just turn toward Him instead of away, and ask Him to make His nearness real, even before anything changes. Then, over the coming days, jot down the moments when you sense Him closest: the small mercy, the unexpected steadiness, the comfort that came from outside yourself.
If you're not in a hard season today, don't file this away — look back instead. In your journal, recall a past season of suffering and trace where God met you in it — whether you felt it then or can only see it now, in hindsight. Name those moments, and let them become your anchor — so when the next hard season comes, your first move won't be to numb or run, but to turn to the One who has already proven Himself near to the brokenhearted.