Thanksgiving in Suffering

Most Christians would readily agree with Peter that in the Scriptures, “There are some things in them that are hard to understand” (2 Peter 3:16). On the other hand, we find plenty of passages that are plain and clear, such as Paul’s words to the Thessalonians: “Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thess. 5:18). It’s straightforward, simple enough to put on a coffee mug, and doesn’t leave many readers scratching their heads—at least, not at first glance.

Then life takes a turn, and we find ourselves facing a circumstance in which being thankful feels utterly impossible, perhaps even wrong. But the command doesn’t go away, nor does it seem to offer any exceptions. We are baffled and frustrated, like the six-year-old boy whose well-meaning aunt gives him a pair of socks for his birthday. His mother says, “You need to go say thank you,” and the boy begrudgingly obeys. The Webster’s 1828 Dictionary definition of thanks explains this tension: “Expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment made to express a sense of favor or kindness received.” Had he unwrapped the basketball he was hoping to receive, a happy “thank you” would have likely been on his lips before his mother even had to instruct it. But alas, the socks do not feel like a “kindness received”—wouldn’t it have been more “kind” of her to find out what he actually wanted?

Birthday gifts for six-year-olds aside, we can certainly experience similar thoughts and emotions toward God when it comes to giving thanks amid suffering. We know we are supposed to, but the words “thank you” seem far from how we really feel about life. How can a terminal diagnosis, a third miscarriage, or a shocking betrayal be perceived with a “sense of favor” received? It almost appears as though God expects us to declare something bad as good, especially when we consider Ephesians 5:20, in which Paul tells us not only to give thanks “always” but also “for everything.”

However, it’s clear that God is not calling us to declare something bad as good, especially when we read God’s promises about the new creation He will establish after Christ’s return. In that place, tears will be wiped away forever. No pain will be felt, no loss will be mourned. Death will be done away with (Rev. 21:4). Those things are the result of the curse and reflect the ugly reality of sin’s hold on the present creation. In itself, suffering is not good, and giving thanks in sorrowful circumstances is not a desire for or celebration of it.

What, then, ought to be the Christian’s mindset while seeking to obey these commands? How do we speak rightly yet sincerely about the lot we have received and the Giver who bestowed it? In this case, dictionary definitions are helpful but limited. When defining the thanksgiving of a suffering saint, we need to go beyond what we “sense” (feel) to what we know.

In sum, thanksgiving in suffering is an act of faith that boldly echoes one of Scripture’s most resounding themes: “There’s more to the story.” God does not tell us to be dishonest, and we do nothing wrong by naming our suffering for what it is. But by the grace of God, we can behold our suffering—even with tears—through a lens that sees more than the grief right in front of us. By the grace of God and with trembling lips, we whisper, “What else is true?”

This is exactly what we see in Psalm 69, written by David in a time of great distress:

Save me, O God!
For the waters have come up to my neck. . . .
I am weary with my crying out; . . .
My eyes grow dim
with waiting for my God. . . .
I am afflicted and in pain. (Ps. 69:1, 3, 29)

But then:

I will praise the name of God with a song;
I will magnify him with thanksgiving. (Ps. 69:30)

Why? Because there’s more to the story, and David believes that truth even in times of anguish. We see this repeatedly in the Psalms, which are filled with candid descriptions of David’s pain right alongside praise-filled declarations about David’s God.

Christ, too, knew that there was more to the story when He echoed the words of David in Psalm 22 upon the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34). He was about to breathe His last, and it appeared that Satan had won the day. But surely, He knew that Psalm 22 doesn’t end with a man forsaken, but rather a mouth filled with praise to a God who heard, cared, and delivered. And it wasn’t just one mouth filled with praise, but many (Ps. 22:27–31). His deliverance was part of a larger story in which God was working out His eternal, death-defying purposes for mankind.

Perhaps thanksgiving in suffering, then, is less about mustering up a certain feeling about our suffering than it is about reminding ourselves of the truths that define it.

• What is true about God’s character?
• What has God done in the past to show His faithfulness?
• What is true about God’s sovereign power to work evil for good
• What is God’s heart toward His suffering children?
• How might God use this present pain to encourage a suffering person in the days to come?
• What has He promised about the bodily resurrection?

The answers to these questions, and others, will not remove the suffering, but they will remind us that we are part of a bigger story, and the story isn’t over yet.