“So, you’re a trauma surgeon! Tell me, what was your best case?”

Suddenly, the studio lights glared uncomfortably bright. Undoubtedly, the interviewer wanted me to offer him a flashy, adrenaline-fueled scene worthy of TV docudramas, a story stuffed to the brim with clickbait. But for those of us who toil in the wages of sin over the long years, rarely do these heart-pumping rescues linger at the forefront of our minds.

Rather, my first thoughts were the horrors: The young man who shouted, “Help me!” before he fell unconscious and died in the CT scanner. The woman, broken with grief, who crawled into her dying daughter’s ICU bed to hold her one last time. The paraplegic father whose anguish over the sudden death of his son so wrecked him that he howled and pitched forward out of his wheelchair onto the floor.

When I offered the interviewer the truth, his enthusiasm fizzled before my eyes, and he changed the subject. I forced a smile, swallowed down the tightness in my throat, and struggled against the tide of grief that’s become as familiar and worn as a tattered coat. It’s a mantle common to many who walk beside the hurting — the heaviness that presses upon the heart when we’ve witnessed others’ suffering over and over and over.

Burden of Caregiving

In whatever avenue they serve — in chaplaincy, military service, health care, counseling, or simply loving friendship — Christian caregivers often share a similar heart, viewing mercy as fundamental to following Jesus. What more poignant way to fulfill the call to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God than to come alongside others during their darkest hours (Micah 6:8)? How better to love a neighbor as ourselves than to dedicate the work of our hands to uplifting the downtrodden and afflicted (Matthew 22:39)?

Yet when we “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), our tears can linger long after our work at the bedside or on the battlefield has finished. When we bear another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2) in the hospital, overseas, or in a dying loved one’s home, our shoulders can ache long after our service has ended. Suffering leaves a mark, and in ministry that uniquely seeks to love the hurting, we bear those marks repeatedly.

In fact, when we have a front-row seat to the wages of sin, we can start to question God’s goodness and sovereignty. Is he really in control when so many suffer? Does he really love us? How do we carry on when the suffering we witness steals all hope and breath? How do we lavish others with the healing word of Christ when our own wounds still sting?

Four Truths to Guard Your Heart

When ministering to the hurting, harboring God’s word in your heart is essential. The following four reminders from Scripture can equip caregivers to face repeated suffering with grace and perseverance so they might continue to show the love of Christ when their own hearts ache with weariness.

1. You are not alone.

Just as my interviewer couldn’t comprehend the tragedies I’d seen, so also few fully understand the suffering caregivers witness in their day-to-day ministry. In Moral Warriors, Moral Wounds, retired Navy chaplain Wollom Jensen reflects upon this phenomenon: “I know what it is to live with fear; to be appalled by the loss of human life; to be shamed by the experience of participating in war; and the feeling of having lost one’s youth in ways that those who have not been to war will never be able to understand” (2).

And yet, as isolated as we may feel in our experiences of suffering, the truth is that in Christ we are never alone. Jesus was “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” He bore our afflictions and carried our sufferings (Isaiah 53:3–4). As the author of Hebrews writes, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:15).

“Revel in the joy, the hope, the assurance we have in Christ that, when he returns, death shall be no more.”

God’s one and only Son — the Word who was with the Father when he stirred the heavens into existence — took on flesh, dwelt among us, and endured the same agonies and wounds that so trouble us. Most magnificent of all, Christ bore such suffering for us (Isaiah 53:4–5). He bore our burdens, knows our tears, and has journeyed through the shadowy valley. Astonishingly, he walks with us even now. “Behold,” he has promised, “I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

2. God works through suffering.

The Bible overflows with examples of God working through our trials to bring about what is beautiful, good, and right (Romans 8:28). Remember Joseph, who endured assault, enslavement, and exile at the hands of his treacherous brothers, but who saw God at work in it all. “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive” (Genesis 50:20).

Consider John 11, when Jesus delayed in going to the bedside of his dying friend Lazarus. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died,” Martha lamented (John 11:21). And yet, his delay served a stunning purpose: to draw dozens of the lost to himself (John 11:42, 45).

Most of all, consider the cross. God worked through his Son’s agony and death to accomplish the greatest feat in all of history — the redemption of fallen sinners and the restoration of God’s people to himself as his adopted children (John 3:16; 1 John 3:1).

If God could work good through sorrows as deep as these, then surely he can do the same in our own sorrows — however piercing, however confusing, however long-lasting.

3. God invites you into his rest.

When working in the fields of heartbreak, the grave responsibility of caregiving can overwhelm us. In such moments, opening our hands to Jesus brings relief. Remember, we are not saviors. We are laborers in the harvest, but salvation comes through Christ alone, and any good we effect is through his will, not our own (Ephesians 2:10).

God is the Almighty, the Maker of heaven and earth, worthy of all praise; we, on the other hand, are fallen, finite, and weak. We are not enough. When we acknowledge our frailty and confess our failings before God, his grace increases all the more: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Turn over your grief to the Lord. Come to him earnestly in heartfelt prayer. “[Cast] all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). Remember Jesus’s invitation: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:28–30).

4. Death is swallowed up in victory.

A dear friend and sister in Christ, for whom I served as caregiver for five years, recently fell asleep in Jesus. As I held her hand, felt her pulse become thready, and watched her breathing slow as her earthly life waned, a thought recurred in my mind: this is precisely why Jesus came. To liberate us from these shackles. To save us, in stunning grace, from the wages of our sins (Romans 6:23).

The gospel shatters death’s hold on us. Jesus has swallowed up death in victory (1 Corinthians 15:54). He endured the cross so we might endure our own death. He rose from the tomb so that we, too, will rise. Death shall be no more. In this fallen, broken world, trials will afflict us, but Christ has overcome (John 16:33).

When Death Is Done

“So we do not lose heart,” Paul writes, reflecting upon the gospel.

Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16–18)

My brothers and sisters, when you sit beside the dying and come alongside the grieving, when you seek to share the gospel in dark places, allow the light of Christ to embolden and guide you. The things that are seen and transient wither before the blinding Light of the world. Let that light illuminate your mind. Let his word guide your path. Revel in the joy, the hope, the assurance we have in Christ that, when he returns, “death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore,” for the former things will have passed away (Revelation 21:4).