Sorrow and suffering are woven into the very fabric of human life. No one escapes their grip, and yet, in God’s sovereign design, they are not purposeless. They are tools in the hands of the skilled Craftsman, chiselling away at our self-reliance and shaping us into the image of His Son. Biblically, sorrow is not a detour from God’s plan—it is an integral part of His sanctifying work. But let’s be clear—God didn’t create a world filled with pain and sorrow. The world He made was good, perfect even, without suffering or tears. It was sin—our sin—that opened the floodgates to all the anguish we experience today. The entrance of sin fractured God’s perfect creation, bringing death, sorrow, and suffering in its wake. Our world groans under the weight of that fall.
Yet here’s the beauty of the Christian message – God, in His infinite mercy, didn’t leave us to wallow in the chaos and destruction we brought upon ourselves. Instead, He redeems it. He turns our very pain and suffering into instruments for our good. Like a master sculptor, He uses the blows of sorrow not to destroy us but to refine us, moulding us more into the likeness of Christ. The very pangs of suffering become, in God’s hands, the means by which we are drawn closer to Him and sanctified for His glory.
So while the world aches with the consequences of our rebellion, God is at work, bringing redemption out of ruin. He uses even the deepest sorrow to shape us for eternity, to make us fit for heaven, where every tear will be wiped away.
The Compassion of Christ
When we encounter sorrow, it is tempting to believe that God is distant or indifferent. But Scripture paints a different picture—Christ comes to the broken, the bruised, and the smouldering wicks. In Isaiah’s prophecy of the Suffering Servant, Christ is described as one who will not break a bruised reed or snuff out a smouldering wick (Isaiah 42:3). This imagery is profound because it tells us that Jesus doesn’t cast aside the weak or the sorrowful. Instead, He nurtures and cares for them with the tenderness of a loving Shepherd.
Richard Sibbes, a Puritan preacher, encapsulated this well when he said, “As a mother is tenderest to the most diseased or weakest child, so does Christ most mercifully incline to the weakest.” Christ’s compassion is most evident in times of sorrow. It is in our bruised and broken state that He comes to us, not with a heavy hand but with gentle care. This is not a distant God, removed from our pain—this is a Savior who enters into it with us, carrying us through the deepest valleys. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18).
Sorrow as a Means of Sanctification
Sorrow is not simply something to be endured—it is often the crucible in which God refines His people. Our suffering is not wasted. As John Newton often taught, recognizing and grieving over the evil in our own hearts is evidence of grace at work.
Sorrow has a way of exposing our idols, revealing our sin, and showing us just how much we need the grace of God. It is through sorrow that we come to see the depth of our dependence on Him.
When you look at it that way, it is not an obstacle but a tool of sanctification. It purifies, it humbles, and it deepens our faith. When we are pressed by sorrow, we are driven to our knees in dependence on God. The Puritans understood this well. They saw affliction as God’s way of purging sin and drawing us closer to Himself. “Affliction may be lasting, but it is not everlasting,” said Thomas Watson, emphasising that sorrow is temporary, but its effects can lead to eternal joy.
Desolation and God’s Provision
When we find ourselves in desolate places—spiritually dry, emotionally drained, or physically afflicted—it is easy to feel abandoned. But the Bible is full of examples of God showing up in the wilderness. Think of Israel at the Red Sea, hemmed in with no escape, only to witness God part the waters before them. Or think of Christ, withdrawing to desolate places not to retreat but to demonstrate God’s provision in miraculous ways. When Jesus fed the five thousand in the wilderness, He did so from a place of scarcity—five loaves and two fish. Yet, in that desolate place, God’s provision overflowed. In our own wilderness moments, we are reminded that God does His best work when we have nothing left. He is the God of the desolate places, turning barrenness into bounty.
Calvin was right when he said, “There is not one blade of grass, there is no colour in this world that is not intended to make us rejoice.” Even in the barren moments, God’s hand is at work, providing, shaping, and teaching us to rely on Him alone.
Sorrow and the Cross
No conversation about sorrow can be complete without looking to the cross. The cross is where the deepest sorrow in history was borne by the only sinless man to ever live. Jesus, the man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, bore the weight of humanity’s sin, facing the ultimate desolation as He cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). But this sorrow was not the end. The sorrow of the cross led to the triumph of the resurrection.
The cross was not just a moment of suffering—it was the pinnacle of God’s redemptive plan. The sorrow of Christ brought about the salvation of His people. And if the greatest sorrow in history led to the greatest good, then we can trust that God is working through our sorrows as well. As Paul reminds us in Romans 8:18, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Sorrow, in the hands of God, is always redemptive.
The Puritan Perspective on Sorrow
The Puritans were a people deeply acquainted with sorrow, and yet, they were also deeply convinced of God’s sovereignty over every tear. They knew that suffering, while painful, was a servant of grace. Watson once said, “What fools are they who, for a drop of pleasure, drink a sea of wrath.” They understood that fleeting pleasures in this life pale in comparison to the eternal weight of glory that God is preparing for His people—even through sorrow.
The Puritans would have us see that our sorrows are not arbitrary. They are divinely appointed moments where God works in us for His glory and our good. Every trial, every tear, is part of the process of conforming us to the image of Christ. As Owen put it, “The duties God requires of us are not in proportion to the strength we have in ourselves, but to the help we expect from Him.” In our sorrow, we are not expected to carry ourselves—we are expected to rely wholly on God.
The Redemptive Nature of Sorrow
God’s plan for our sorrow is not to remove it but to redeem it. He uses sorrow to draw us closer to Himself, to sanctify us, and to display His provision in ways we could never imagine. Sorrow is not the end—it is a tool in the hands of a loving God who uses it to bring about His purposes in our lives.
The cross is the ultimate proof that God does not waste sorrow. If the greatest sorrow led to the greatest victory, then we can trust that every bruise, every desolate place, and every tear is part of a greater story—a story where sorrow is transformed into joy, where death is swallowed up in victory, and where every affliction is working to prepare us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.
In our sorrow, we are not alone. Christ, the man of sorrows, walks with us, and through every trial, He is making all things new. Sorrow may last for the night, but joy comes with the morning (Psalm 30:5).
