THIS PAIN IS TOO MUCH

Job scraped his skin with a piece of broken pottery as he sat among the ashes. ⁹ His wife said to him, “Are you still trying to maintain your integrity? Curse God and die.” Job 2: 8 – 9

There are moments you’re going to endure an experience that leaves you scratching your head and wondering how a God who loves you, how a God who cares for you, would allow you to experience what you are experiencing or what you just got through experiencing – this is a copied statement, I heard yesterday in one of the socials and made me start thinking;

Life has a way of bringing us into seasons we never would have chosen for ourselves. Seasons that arrive without warning and leave us standing in the wreckage of what once was. Seasons where prayers seem unanswered, where hope feels distant, and where the weight of pain settles so deeply into the soul that words struggle to carry it. It is in those moments that faith is tested, not when the sun is shining and everything is going well, but when the night seems endless and there is no visible sign of morning.

Job understood that kind of pain. Scripture paints a heartbreaking picture: “Job scraped his skin with a piece of broken pottery as he sat among the ashes. Imagine that scene for a moment. A man sitting in ashes, surrounded by loss. His body afflicted. His heart shattered. Everything familiar stripped away. Everything secure gone. The life he once knew had crumbled before his eyes. And as if the suffering itself were not enough, the voice beside him offered no comfort, only despair.

Yet Job remained.

Not because he understood what God was doing. Not because he had been given answers. Not because the pain had suddenly become easier to bear. He remained because somewhere beneath the confusion, beneath the grief, beneath the questions, he still believed that God’s character was trustworthy even when God’s ways were not understandable.

That is often where true faith is found. Not in having all the answers. Not in pretending everything is okay. Not in denying the reality of pain. But in holding onto God when nothing around you seems to make sense.

Some of us know exactly what that feels like. We know what it is to carry burdens quietly. To smile for others while silently breaking inside. To walk through rooms full of people and still feel alone. We know what it is to experience rejection that leaves scars no one can see. We know what it is to grieve losses that words cannot adequately explain. We know what it is to cry in private and then gather enough strength to face another day.

And sometimes, in the silence of those moments, questions begin to rise.

• Why did this happen?
• Why didn’t God stop it?
• Why does the pain continue?
• Why does the darkness seem to linger?

Scripture does not always give us the explanations we seek. Often, God responds to our questions not with detailed answers but with His presence. While we search for reasons, He offers Himself.

The Psalmist wrote, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book” (Psalm 56:8).

What a remarkable thought. Every tear counted. Every sorrow noticed. Every heartbreak known. The tears that fall where no one sees them are not lost to God. The grief you struggle to explain is not hidden from Him. The pain that you carry behind your smile is fully visible to the One who knows you completely.

God sees what others miss. He sees the effort it takes just to get through the day. He sees the disappointment you never talk about. He sees the anxiety you carry into the night. He sees the memories that still hurt. He sees the wounds that have not healed.

And He understands.

Jesus Himself entered into human suffering. Isaiah called Him “a man of sorrows and acquainted with deepest grief.” He knows what it means to be rejected. He knows what it means to be misunderstood. He knows what it means to be abandoned by friends and surrounded by sorrow. He knows what it feels like to weep.

Because of that, we do not bring our pain before a distant God. We bring it before a Savior who understands.

The difficult truth is that some storms do not end as quickly as we would like. Some valleys stretch farther than we imagined. There are seasons when there appears to be no way out, when every door seems closed, when every prayer feels delayed, and when every step forward requires more strength than we think we possess.

Yet even there, God remains faithful.

Not always by removing the storm immediately, but by sustaining us within it. Not always by changing our circumstances at once, but by refusing to leave us alone in them.

The God who was present with Job in the ashes is the same God who sits with us in our grief. The God who was present with David in the wilderness is the same God who walks with us through our lonely places. The God who strengthened Christ on the road to Calvary is the same God who strengthens His children when their hearts grow weary.

Perhaps that is why one of the most beautiful declarations in all of Scripture came from a man who had lost almost everything:

“Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.” (Job 13:15)

Those words were not spoken from comfort. They were spoken from pain. Not from abundance, but from loss. Not from certainty, but from faith.

And maybe that is where some of us find ourselves today. Not standing on the mountaintop celebrating victory, but sitting among the ashes, trying to understand what God is doing.

If that is you, know this:

God sees your tears. He understands your pain. He knows your grief. He knows the rejection you carry. He knows the battles you fight in silence. He knows how hard it has been to keep going.

And even if you cannot see His hand right now, you can trust His heart. The same God who watches your tears is the God who promises that one day He will wipe every tear away.

Because the same God who sits with you in the ashes is also the God who brings beauty from them.

Until then, hold on.

• Hold on when it is hard.
• Hold on when answers do not come.
• Hold on when the night feels long.
• Hold on when you cannot see a way forward.

Because sometimes the greatest act of faith is simply refusing to let go of God while He quietly holds on to you.