I’ve been learning what it means to be a friend of Jesus. What it means to be trusted by Him—trusted with His heart, with the very depths of His sorrow and love. And in this season, I’ve encountered His comfort and His friendship in a way I never knew before: in the middle of pain, in grief, in tears poured out before Him.

Tears. Grief. Sorrow. Pain. Wounds. These things are deeply real, yet we so often try to avoid them. We do not give them room to be felt or experienced. Human nature resists suffering—we do not want the pain, the sorrow, or the tears that follow. But suffering is unavoidable, and the way we respond to it reveals so much about how we know and embrace Jesus Himself.

What has always struck me is that Jesus never promised us a life free from suffering. In fact, He promised the opposite: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). He told us there would be pain, persecution, grief, and loss. Yet so much of our lives are spent trying to escape the very place where He often draws nearest.

My hope is found in His wounds.

Isaiah says, “By His wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). His wounds are not just evidence of suffering—they are evidence of love. They are proof of mercy. Every stripe, every nail, every drop of blood speaks of the lengths He was willing to go to bring us near to Him.

I want to be close to Him—so close that He trusts me with His wounds, with His grieving heart for the nations and for the people who do not know Him. His wounds guide me. They are the reason I burn with passion for the gospel. They are the reason we have life at all. His blood poured out for us is why we are washed white as snow, covered completely in undeserved grace.

The cross and the resurrection cannot be separated. One is not more important than the other. Both were necessary, and together they carry the power of eternal life for people who could never deserve it. The cross reveals the depth of His sacrifice, and the resurrection reveals the victory of His love. Together they tell the story of a Father and a Son who chose rescue at the highest cost.

And even now, His blood still speaks. Hebrews says it “speaks a better word” (Hebrews 12:24). His sacrifice was not powerless then, and it is not powerless now.

I think so often we rush past the cross to get to the resurrection. We want victory without surrender. We want resurrection life without first walking through death. We avoid sitting in the weight of the cross because we want the joy that comes after it—but that is not the Lord’s order.

We have to look at the cross.

We have to behold our bleeding, beaten, broken Savior hanging there for us. We have to allow ourselves to feel the weight of what sin cost Him. We have to understand death in order to truly understand life. Jesus died so that I would never have to spend eternity separated from Him because of my sin. But following Him also means that I must die too. The flesh must die. My pride, my selfishness, my desires apart from Him—they must be crucified with Christ.

Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me” (Luke 9:23).

There is no resurrection life without surrender, without the death of our flesh.

We cannot avoid sorrow without missing something deeply beautiful about knowing Jesus. Paul wrote that he longed to “know Him… and participate in His sufferings” (Philippians 3:10). There is an intimacy with Jesus that is only found in suffering—when we grieve with Him, when we sit with Him in pain, when our tears become prayers poured out at His feet.

And the most beautiful thing I’ve experienced these past three years is that those are the places where I have felt Him closest.

I want all of Him. I need all of Him. So even in suffering, I want to remain near to Him because there is nowhere else I would rather be. He is the One who enables me to endure. He walks closely beside me, and His joy truly becomes my strength. I have never experienced His comfort, tenderness, and presence more deeply than in moments of pain, sorrow, and tears.

Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” And I have found that to be so true.

There is a friendship with Jesus that can only be formed in the fellowship of His suffering. Not because He delights in our pain, but because suffering strips away every illusion of self-sufficiency and teaches us how desperately we need Him. And oh how I need Him, all of Him!