By Georgiana Paleanu

The question in the title may sound odd—but stay with me.

If you’re dealing with physical pain, chronic illness, or carrying a heavy burden no one else can see or understand, I just want you to know: You’re not alone. I’m not sharing this because I’ve figured everything out or reached some perfect ending. I’m still in it, still walking through it. But it’s in the midst of all this that I’ve come to know God in a deeper, more personal way than I ever thought I would.

My health struggles started when I was a kid. I had a lot of digestive discomfort—bloating, stomach pain, and a sensitivity to certain foods. It wasn’t debilitating back then, but no one could really explain what was going on. I simply adapted and kept going.

I also had epilepsy as a child, and that was a lot harder to deal with. I didn’t really understand what it was; I just knew it sometimes made me feel different and left out. Even though it no longer affects me, it left its mark. It showed me early on how fragile and unpredictable our bodies can be.

As I got older, the digestive issues got worse. At one point, I was diagnosed with an H. pylori infection. I went through the treatment, but the symptoms didn’t go away. Later, I had my gallbladder removed, which brought its own complications. Even this surgery didn’t bring the relief I was hoping for.

Over the years, I’ve tried just about everything: elimination diets, enzymes, supplements, natural remedies, and countless doctor visits. I’ve had so many tests, but not many clear answers. Some days are better than others, but the symptoms always seem to come back. And honestly, not knowing how I’ll feel from one day to the next is one of the hardest parts.

On top of it all, I deal with persistent foot, hip, and back pain. I can’t walk for very long without discomfort, nor can I stand or sit for extended periods. These limitations aren’t obvious to others, but they affect nearly every part of my daily life. I’ve had to let go of things I once loved, like taking long walks. Socializing has changed too. I can rarely eat what others eat, and I often just avoid restaurants altogether. My relationships, routines, and sense of freedom have all been reshaped.

Staying positive isn’t always easy. I do smile a lot, but behind that smile is a slower pace, careful planning, and a kind of pain I’ve learned to carry quietly. Living with chronic illness can often feel lonely, not because people don’t care, but because so much of what I’m dealing with is invisible, which makes it harder to feel understood.

But in the midst of all this, God has been gently teaching me something: We’re not meant to go through life alone. As part of the Body of Christ, we’re not just called to encourage others— we’re also called to let others encourage us.

That second part hasn’t been easy for me. I love encouraging others, but I’ve had to learn how to receive encouragement as well. When I pretend I’m fine, I miss out on the comfort God often provides through others. And I’ve realized that I’m not doing anyone any favors by hiding my struggles.

Sometimes we ask God for help and expect it to come in a specific, perhaps dramatic way. More often than not, however, He sends it through a friend, a kind word, or someone’s simply showing up. This may seem small, but that’s often how His care comes to us.

I’ve experienced that in my own life. I’m especially thankful for the GES community. Being part of a group in which I can learn, serve, and also be supported has meant more than I can say. And I’m deeply grateful for my husband, Óscar. His love and steady presence have carried me through more hard days than I can count. His patience has been a reflection of God’s faithfulness in my life.

At the same time, I know that not everyone has that kind of support. In some church circles, there’s an unspoken message that if you’re sick or going through a hard time, maybe your faith isn’t strong enough, or perhaps you’ve done something wrong. That mindset makes it harder for people to be honest about their struggles. They end up hiding their pain, putting on a smile, and acting as if everything’s fine. But that’s not what Jesus ever asked of us.

It’s not a lack of faith to admit that we’re hurting. In fact, vulnerability can open the door for others to share their burdens, too. Paul reminds us:

And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it…(1 Cor 12:26).

Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ (Gal 6:2).

So, back to the title’s question: Is suffering always a bad thing?

For those who don’t know the Lord, suffering can feel unbearable. There’s no higher purpose, no comfort beyond the present moment, no hope beyond what’s visible. Pain feels final. And that’s what breaks my heart the most.

I sometimes wonder how people endure deep loss or chronic pain without the kind of hope God gives. Without it, suffering can feel hollow, pointless, and even cruel.

But for the believer, suffering is never wasted. God uses it to refine our faith, shape our character, and remind us that this world isn’t our home. Like the blind man in John 9, we may not understand the “why,” but we know the “Who.” Our struggles can become a stage upon which God’s mercy and strength are revealed.

But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing (Jas 1:4).

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us (Rom 8:18).

I don’t know what tomorrow will look like. I feel stronger on some days than on others. But trusting God doesn’t mean expecting Him to make everything better overnight. It means walking with Him through the uncertainty, even when I can’t see what’s ahead.

What keeps me going is the promise that this won’t last forever. One day, the pain will end, and I’ll walk without limitations, without weariness. One day, I’ll be whole (2 Cor 5:1-8).

And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes… (Rev 21:4).

Blessed is the man who endures temptation … he will receive the crown of life which the Lord has promised to those who love Him (Jas 1:12).

If you’re walking through something hard right now, I just want you to know—you’re not alone. I’m still there, too. But I’ve come to see how gently and faithfully God meets us there. Sometimes it’s a verse, a kind word, or simply enough strength to make it through the day. If all you can do is whisper a prayer or take the smallest step forward, that’s okay. His grace is enough, even when we don’t feel that we are enough.

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Georgiana is a content creator and podcaster who specializes in teaching English as a second language. She translates GES materials into Romanian. Based in Spain, she and her husband, Óscar Pellús—the Spanish-language translator for GES— enjoy helping make GES content accessible to an international audience.