There’s an odd gratitude that only suffering can teach—a perspective that transforms pain from a tormentor into a teacher. It might sound like this: "I am grateful for betrayal because it opened my eyes to the dangers of blind trust and taught me discernment." "I am thankful for the pain of losing my job because it forced me to reassess my path and pursue a purpose more aligned with my calling." "I appreciate my grief, not for the suffering itself, but because it revealed the depth of my love and the significance of what I had."
This isn’t about masochism. It’s not about choosing suffering or seeing it as something inherently good. Pain is hard. Sometimes, it’s unbearable. But the way we process it—the lens through which we interpret it—can either make us or break us.
Both psychology and theology remind us of this truth. While suffering has the potential to grow us into stronger, wiser people, it can just as easily pull us into bitterness and victimhood. The key lies in how we choose to respond.
The Redemptive Power of Pain
"Pain insists upon being attended to," wrote C.S. Lewis. "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."
Scripture, too, challenges us to reframe suffering in ways that ignite hope. Paul writes in Romans 5:3-4:
"We also glory in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering produces perseverance;
perseverance, character; and character, hope."
It’s a radical concept—pain isn’t just an interruption; it’s a process. It shapes, molds, and refines us. Consider Joseph in the Old Testament. Betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, and imprisoned unfairly, he later says something astounding to those same brothers who wronged him: "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good." (Genesis 50:20)
Psychology reinforces this idea with something known as Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG)—the transformation that comes from processing trauma meaningfully. Psychologists Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun found that individuals who endure hardship often emerge with greater appreciation for life, deeper relationships, and a stronger sense of purpose.
Pain, then, is not inherently the enemy. It’s the forge.
The question is whether we allow it to destroy us
or to shape us into something stronger.
The Psychological Trap of Self-Victimization
At the other end of the spectrum is a psychological warning - When suffering becomes our identity, it doesn’t shape us; it shrinks us. Martin Seligman, a psychologist known for his research on learned helplessness, found that when people repeatedly face hardship without a way to act or change their outcomes, they become passive. Over time, this passivity hardens into a belief that they are powerless, and as a result, they stop even hoping for better outcomes.
This mindset corrodes relationships and sabotages healing. Research into chronic victimhood shows that people who cling to the "victim identity" often struggle with empathy, resist personal accountability, and live in cycles of resentment. Their pain, instead of being processed, becomes the lens they see their entire life through—a lens that distorts the good and magnifies the bad.
It’s important to differentiate between acknowledging real pain—which is necessary and healthy—and dwelling in perpetual victimhood. The first empowers transformation; the second cements stagnation.
Choosing Gratitude and Responsibility Over Resentment
The question this raises is simple but hard to answer honestly: How do we suffer well?
Theologians and psychologists alike point to practices that, while difficult, can improve or atleast reshape the way suffering affects us.
1. Reframe Pain as Purposeful
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) teaches us that thoughts shape emotions and behaviors. One essential practice is to challenge the belief that suffering is purposeless. Ask yourself, "What lesson or meaning might exist in this pain?"
Theologically, this reframe aligns with verses like Romans 8:28, which promises that "all things work together for good for those who love God."
Remember that finding the meaning is far more productive than defaulting into nihilism.
2. Radical Acceptance
Borrowed from Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), radical acceptance teaches us to stop resisting pain as though it’s an anomaly. Pain is part of life. Acceptance doesn’t mean we enjoy our suffering but that we stop expending energy fighting the reality of it, as if we are spitting in the wind.
When we stop seeing suffering as an "enemy invasion," we can focus on healing instead of resenting.
3. Take Ownership of Our Responses
Holocaust survivor and psychiatrist Viktor Frankl is a testament to choosing meaning in the midst of unimaginable suffering. He famously wrote in Man’s Search for Meaning:
"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way."
You cannot always control what happens to you. But how you respond is always within your power... more or less.
4. Cultivate Gratitude
Gratitude doesn’t erase pain, but it reframes it. It helps us see what pain gave us—perspective, compassion, perseverance—rather than what it took away. Gratitude pushes back on bitterness. It teaches us to say,
"Thank God for my pain—it forced me to grow in ways comfort never could."
The Harder but Better Path
It’s easy to cling to resentment. Easy to hold onto wounds as though they’re proof of how the world wronged us. But this is like carrying a backpack full of rocks and wondering why life feels heavy.
The people who emerge from suffering with strength aren’t the ones who avoid pain. They’re the ones who face it, process it, and learn from it.
"God whispers to us in our pleasures," as Lewis said. "But he shouts in our pain."
The question isn’t whether we’ll suffer. The question is whether we’ll listen to what suffering has to teach us—and allow ourselves to become better for it. Will we rise with gratitude, or sink with resentment?
The choice is ours—yours and mine—because this reflection
is just as much for me as it is for you.
Will we let pain define us, or will we allow it to refine us?
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