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“But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” — 1 Peter 4:13, NIV
When we love someone, we often want to be like them—to truly know them. We want to share life experiences with them, understand what they have walked through, and grow closer through those shared moments. We want to know everything!
This week, we have talked a lot about suffering and eternity. Today, I want to continue that theme by reflecting on how incredible it is that we get to know and become more like Jesus through our own “thorns” and suffering.
“I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:10, NIV).
It is glorious that we can know Jesus as our victorious, resurrected Savior. But friends, it is also beautiful that we can know him as the suffering Savior.
The Bible tells us that Jesus was familiar with suffering far before the nails were driven in his hands. Isaiah 53 describes him as “a man of suffering, and familiar with pain” (Isaiah 53:3). He was tempted in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11), hated without cause (John 15:25), rejected by his own (John 1:11), and betrayed by one of his closest companions (Luke 22:47-48). He wept at the tomb of his dear friend Lazarus (John 11:35), experienced such deep anguish in Gethsemane that he prayed for the “cup” of suffering to be taken from him (Matthew 26:38-39), and endured mocking, spitting, beating, and a crown of thorns pressed into his head (Matthew 27:27-31). And I don’t even have to emphasize the suffering of the cross.
No one has endured suffering quite like our Savior. Physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, He knew anguish. And so, Hebrews 4:15 reminds us that we have a High Priest who can empathize with our weaknesses. We do not serve a Savior unfamiliar with our suffering—we serve One who willingly entered into it.
The Greek word páschō, often translated as “suffer,” gives the idea of undergoing or experiencing something, particularly pain or hardship. (Strong’s Greek 3958). While our suffering is not the same as Christ’s redemptive suffering, the Bible tells us that we can participate in his suffering. Through our own experiences of pain, rejection, temptation, and weakness, we have an opportunity to better understand what our Savior endured. To know him more fully.
I just think that is absolutely amazing. Think about it—really think about it. When we experience rejection, we can understand a little more of what it meant for Jesus to be rejected by the very people he came to save. When we are betrayed by someone we love, we can remember the anguish of Judas’s kiss. When we are misunderstood, mocked, or mistreated, we can reflect on the One who endured those very things without retaliation. When our bodies ache, our hearts break, or we plead with God for relief, we can picture our Savior in Gethsemane and on the cross.
When we adopt this mindset, we are not simply reading about his suffering from a distance anymore. Our understanding transforms. In our own much smaller, imperfect experiences, we can begin to recognize something of what he endured. The stories and passages some of us have read countless times can take on new depth because, in some way, we have walked through something similar.
What an extraordinary privilege to know our Savior's heart better through the very experiences that break our own.
Paul knew this personally. He pleaded with the Lord (three times!) to take away the “thorn” in his flesh (2 Corinthians 12:8). The phrase “thorn in the flesh” suggests an ongoing, persistent, personal struggle. But the Lord did not take it away; instead, he told Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NIV).
Here is a thought that floored me this week: The “thorns” that pierce me are nothing compared to the crown driven into Jesus’ head. Through my own “thorns,” I can draw closer to the One who wore that crown for me.
What if we began to see our suffering through that perspective? Not as something we must enjoy or pretend doesn’t hurt (we can be real), but as an opportunity to know Jesus in a way we never have known him otherwise. What if, in the middle of our anguish, we could recognize the incredible gift of being drawn into deeper fellowship with him?
In Acts 5, after being arrested, questioned, and flogged for proclaiming Jesus, the Apostles left the Sanhedrin “rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name” (Acts 5:41, NIV). Rejoicing! They considered it a privilege to endure something because of their identification with Christ.
That is the perspective I want to carry.
Most of us, like Paul, spend a lot of time asking God to remove the thorns, ease the burdens, heal the wounds, and spare us the pain. And there is nothing wrong with those prayers; God can do all of it. (Remember, Jesus himself prayed for the cup to be taken.) But maybe we can offer another prayer alongside them: Lord, if I must walk through this, let me know you more deeply because of it. Let me become more like you through it.
“Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory” (Romans 8:17, NIV).
We are not merely called to admire Jesus from afar. We are invited to follow him, to become like him, and even to share in his sufferings.
Of course, not every hardship we experience is suffering for Christ, and our pain certainly does not earn us a “greater” place in his kingdom. But even in the ordinary suffering of living in this broken world, we can turn toward the suffering Savior and grow in our understanding of his heart. When suffering comes specifically because we belong to him, we can remember that there is reason to rejoice in being identified with his name.
I don’t know about you, but that is how I want to look at the difficult seasons of my life and the persistent thorns that pierce me. I don’t want to be so consumed with escaping suffering that I miss the opportunity to weep in the garden with Jesus. I don’t want to be so desperate to have every thorn removed that I miss the chance to draw closer to the One who wore a crown of them for me.
I want to remember that when my heart is breaking, I am drawing near to a Savior who knows what it is to weep. When I plead with God for something to change, I am speaking to a Father whose own Son knelt in a garden and prayed for another way. When I feel rejected, misunderstood, or overwhelmed by the weight of life, I can look to Jesus and know he understands. And, somehow, through these very experiences, I can place myself in the familiar stories, right there beside him, and understand a little more of the heart of the Savior I love.
I love him, I want to know him, I want to understand his heart, and I want to become more like him. If suffering is one way I get to do that, then even in the pain, something wonderful can be found.
There will come a day when every tear is wiped away, when pain and sorrow are no more, and when we will share in the fullness of his glory (Revelation 21:4; Romans 8:17). But until then, even here, amid the thorns and tears, we have the incredible opportunity to know our Savior more deeply.
What a privilege it is to know Jesus. What a privilege it is that, even through the thorns, we get to know the One who wore the crown.
bytaylormcgee
