Weekly Devotion: Where is God in my suffering?
- Praying Through ministries
- Apr 20
- 4 min read
By: Shara Garcia
Where is God in my suffering?
It’s the question no one wants to ask out loud—but we do.
In the middle of the night.
In the NICU.
In the doctor’s office after another unexpected diagnosis.
In the silence after loss.
Where is God in my suffering?
The book of Job doesn’t shy away from pain. It opens with a man who loses everything—his children, his health, his livelihood. And the worst part? He didn’t do anything to deserve it. Job was faithful, upright, and still found himself sitting in the ashes.
You’d think his friends would show up with comfort—but instead, they show up with blame. They assume Job must have done something wrong. One of them, Bildad, even asks, “How can a mortal be righteous before God?” (Job 25:4). And honestly? That question stings. Because deep down, we know—we can’t be righteous. Not on our own.
His friends tried to explain it away, but Job didn’t want answers—he just wanted God.
“If only I knew where to find Him,” he cries in Job 23:3.
We’ve been there too. Maybe you’re there now, whispering the same words:
“Where is God in my suffering?”
The story of Job wrestles with that question. But it’s Easter that answers it—with a cross, a grave, and an empty tomb.
Amidst the pain and the ashes, Job still praises God’s power in chapter 26. After nine verses describing God’s majesty, Job ends with this awe-filled conclusion in verse 14:
“These are just the beginning of all that He does, merely a whisper of His power. Who, then, can comprehend the thunder of His power?” (Job 26:14)
The resurrection is that thunder.
Easter is the answer.
It’s God answering Job’s cry—not with explanations, but with incarnation.
Not with distance, but with a Savior who steps into the ashes Himself.
“Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.”
—Isaiah 53:4–5
On the cross, Jesus joined us in our pain.
In the grave, He bore our silence and suffering.
And in the resurrection, He thundered over death, declaring once and for all:
“I see you. I’m here. I’ve made a way.”
If you’re navigating a high-risk pregnancy, wrestling with infertility, holding your baby through hospital wires, or grieving a child you never got to hold—Easter isn’t just a holiday. It’s hope.
I remember asking this same question as I stood beside my son Lukas in the Cardiac ICU, watching machines keep time for his tiny heart. It felt like ashes. Powerless. Fragile.
But even then—especially then—God was there. Not with quick fixes or easy answers, but with steady presence. And that presence changed everything.
So if you’re asking, Where is God in my suffering?—
The answer is not a theological idea.
It’s a person.
Jesus.
The one truly righteous man who suffered injustice.
The one who was falsely accused, brutally beaten, buried in silence.
The one who rose—carrying our scars, holding the keys.
Bildad asked, “How can a mortal be righteous before God?” The answer is—we can’t. But Jesus could. And did. And because of Him, we’re no longer defined by our suffering, our sin, or our ashes. We are covered by His righteousness. Held by His grace. Healed by His wounds.
This is the hope of Easter: A God who doesn’t run from suffering, but enters it. A Savior who understands what it’s like to be broken, and a Healer who makes all things new. You are not alone in the ashes. He is here.
He’s in the NICU when monitors scream and hope flickers.He’s in the waiting rooms, the late-night prayers, the sleepless grief.He’s in the CTICU, holding my son when I couldn’t.He’s in the tomb—and more than that, He walked out of it.
From ashes to resurrection—He has never left.
I pray that Job’s raw questions and Jesus’ bold resurrection remind us that God does not run from suffering; He enters it, and He redeems it. Because of Easter, you have hope that reaches even into the deepest pain. You are seen. You are held. You are not alone. He is here.
God, if I'm honest I'm wondering where you are. At times I've felt so alone in my suffering. Remind me You’re near. That You haven’t left. God, meet me in this place. Remind me that the cross wasn’t the end of the story—and neither is this.You have already won. Through the cross and the empty tomb, You’ve made a way for hope to break through even here. Thank You for being the God who enters suffering and the Savior who makes all things new. Amen.
Dig Deeper into How to Navigate What is Ahead with Real Hope
Reflection Questions:
When have you felt like Job, asking, “Where is God in my suffering?” What did that season teach you about who God is?
How does knowing that Jesus stepped into suffering—not away from it—shift your perspective on your own pain?
Put Your Faith Into Action:
Find a smooth stone or any small object you see often—like a shell, piece of wood, or fabric scrap. Choose one word that anchors your heart to resurrection hope.
It could be:
Healed – as a reminder that by His wounds, you are being made whole
Held – when you need to remember you’re not walking through this alone
Seen – for the days you feel invisible in your pain
New – when it’s hard to believe God is still writing beauty into your story
Here – to anchor you in the truth that God hasn’t left
Write it on the object with a paint pen or permanent marker. Place it somewhere you’ll see it daily—on your desk, your nightstand, or your kitchen window. Let it whisper resurrection into your everyday.
Further Reading:
Isaiah 61:1–3
Psalm 34:18
Isaiah 53
Shara is a SoCal mother to three littles, pastor’s wife, youth pastor, and heart warrior mama. She understands the importance of biblical encouragement; especially when her third child was born with a complex CHD requiring open heart surgery. She volunteers in obedience to God's call to comfort others "with the comfort we ourselves received from God."
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