My student’s step-mother died this past week. “Jon” had been excited about an experimental medical procedure that would save his mom’s life, but something went wrong. When Jon returned to class, I shared with him how sorry I was. “She was the kindest person I’ve ever known,” he said. “She never had a bad word to say about anyone. It’s hard to understand why she had to die when so many jerks don’t.”

Jon began sharing how much his mom loved Jesus and lived for him. We discussed how much better her life is now compared to when she was suffering with a heart defect, but we both understood the genuine hurt felt when someone so dear dies. Jon recently had back surgery, and his father will soon have a surgery in which his small intestine will become his stomach. Clearly, this family has been asked to endure much.

And then there is Diana, my wheelchair-bound friend who watched her husband choke to death when the restaurant employees apologized because they weren’t allowed to perform any medical procedure, Heimlich included. Her unmarried daughter was diagnosed with cancer and will begin chemotherapy and radiation treatments this week.

This same week, Becky, my longtime friend from Ohio, texted that her younger son had died from complications following surgery in which his pancreas and spleen were removed, even though they had gone to one of the finest hospitals in the country. Her older son passed away three years ago from cancer. Becky cannot make phone calls because she lost her hearing five years ago. I cannot even tell her verbally how I hurt for her and her husband.

Too much. Too much. Sometimes, challenges seem too much to bear.

God knows that. He sees us shake our fists at Him, scream for answers when there appear to be none and watch our faith be shaken. I wonder how many millions of times He has listened to our tantrums and wanted to tell us that His ways are not our ways, that this trial needs to grow us, to bring us closer to Him. Perhaps this is the first time we have been on our knees in years (well, since the last time we were overwhelmed). Perhaps this is so others can watch us endure in order to give them hope. Perhaps we won’t know the “why’s” until we meet God face-to-face.

No one enjoys suffering, yet James tells us to “consider it pure joy” when we face trials. This makes no sense. Why would anyone rejoice in hardship? The answer is found in what trials produce. They develop perseverance. They strengthen faith. They teach dependence on God. Without trials, our faith remains shallow. With them, it grows deep and unshakable.

Becky knows all about that. Her final words in her text were these: “God answered my nightly, ongoing prayers that he doesn’t suffer terribly with a long, painful ending.” She ended by repeating herself: “God answered my prayers.”

He always does, sometimes in ways we find difficult to understand.