In our comfortable age, we often avoid affliction at any cost. But I’ve learned that Christian suffering isn’t without hope and that God often uses our pain to bring about redemption. In sixth grade, I joined the 12 percent of children who had a parent addicted to drugs. Before I knew what was going on, a pastor had discovered my mother’s addiction to opioids and confronted her. For her son’s sake, he said, she needed to become sober. If she didn’t give up her addiction, he would force her to go to rehab. She tried to detox on her own but couldn’t. I watched as she writhed on our couch in pain, convinced she was dying as a result of her withdrawal. A good friend of the family, and our roommate at the time, called 911 and my grandparents. I was sent to live with my grandparents “temporarily,” and an ambulance came to pick up my mom. The next day, she was taken to a rehab center, where she committed to getting sober. Little did I know, this was the beginning of the rest of our lives. Inexplicable Suffering Over the following years, I stopped viewing my mom as my mother. How I felt toward her depended on the day, but it mostly ranged from anger to sorrow. Band concerts and academic milestones continued on, but she wasn’t there. I saw other kids with their “normal” moms and was jealous. My jealousy bred anger, and I made up my mind that I wouldn’t care enough about my own mom to let her hurt me by her absence. When she was fresh out of her first round of recovery, she lived about an hour and a half away on the Oregon coast, where I’d visit. Halfway through a hike we took together, she wanted to take pictures with me at one particularly gorgeous viewpoint. As she explained that she wanted to have memories with her son, I immediately thought, I’m not your son. My genuine frustration and teenage rebellion resulted in my outright refusal of her request. I cried and screamed at her that I was tired of pictures and wanted to go home, refusing to make clear my true feelings. This interaction characterized our relationship for the next five years. In 2020, the world shut down. My mom moved in with my grandparents and me, and we spent six months together, barely leaving the house except to go to work. After a brief relapse, my mom had been sober for a few years, but her health was beginning to decline. Bedridden, with an IV and feeding tube, she was in immense and constant pain. Yet, in the middle of her disease and the COVID-19 lockdowns, I witnessed something extraordinary. My mom was given the strongest faith I’ve seen. No matter when I saw her, she was continuously worshiping—reading Scripture, singing, and praying. Unable to work, she took to online ministry and developed a modest following. She used her story of suffering to encourage others and share the gospel. As she read God’s words to Paul in 2 Corinthians 12:9—“My power is made perfect in weakness”—she stopped praying for healing and instead prayed for God to glorify himself in her weakness. Inexplicable Grace In those days, I often went to bed later than I should have because I’d go to her room and check on her. We’d talk for hours about everything from YouTubers to eschatology. I witnessed something extraordinary. My mom was given the strongest faith I’ve seen. God transformed her in her suffering and used this to peel away the bitterness in my heart. With each passing day, God’s love was poured into my heart through the Holy Spirit (Rom. 5:5), leading me to forgive my mom as Christ had forgiven me—and as he’d forgiven her (Eph. 4:31–32). Because of our circumstances, my relationship with her grew deeper than it could have otherwise. I had no father in my life to teach me the ways of Christ, but she taught me much about him in those six months. My faith is indebted to her. After about six months, I went to college. Soon after, she headed to the ICU. A few weeks later, I flew home to be there when she was taken off life support. She was supposed to go quickly, but instead, she fought on for eight long hours. She barely had enough energy to look around. Unable to speak because of the ventilator, she opened her eyes at the sound of my voice. She began to scan the room, her head moving slowly and weakly. I quickly tried to get into her vision. Her eyes met mine, and her entire face and body softened immediately. I almost made out a smile. Where there had once been hatred toward her, only love remained. I choked out the words “I love you,” and as I did, her eyes closed. She would spend the rest of her life unconscious. That was our last late night together. In the middle of the night, she finally beheld Christ in the way she longed for. All Suffering Will End The truth is, we won’t always see good from our suffering on this side of eternity. Look to Hebrews 11 for a wonderful list of people who suffered greatly and didn’t see their reward in this life. Where there had once been hatred toward her, only love remained. Yet Christians will surely see their eventual glorification in heaven (Rom. 8). We’ll see the redemption of the universe and God’s glory triumph over every evil in this world. On that long-anticipated final day, we’ll stand as God wipes every tear from our eyes, just as Revelation 21 promises. Our hope is that our God is greater than any suffering, and he who wrought our redemption through Christ’s suffering can also bring redemption through our suffering.