In the Suffering: Where Wounds Become Altars

 

“He was despised and rejected—

a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.

We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.

He was despised, and we did not care.”

— Isaiah 53:3, NLT

Pain That Shapes Us

Suffering is the one universal language we all speak. Whether it’s quiet disappointment or soul-crushing loss, every human life is marked by pain.

And yet—when the ache comes, we often believe God is absent. As if joy is His native tongue, and sorrow is a language He doesn’t understand.

But the gospel tells another story.

It tells of a God who bleeds. A Savior whose glory is revealed not only in resurrection but in crucifixion. A Comforter who does not bypass pain but walks straight into it with us.

Sacred noticing in suffering is not pretending we are okay—it is realizing God is already there. Present. Tender. Weeping alongside us.

Jesus and the Wounded Places

The story of Thomas in John 20 is striking. After the resurrection, the disciples tell Thomas that Jesus is alive, but he refuses to believe unless he sees the scars. A week later, Jesus appears and does not scold Thomas. Instead, He invites him to touch the wounds.

Jesus does not hide His suffering. He reveals His scars. He leads with His pain.

His resurrected body still bears the marks of crucifixion—because wounds, in God’s kingdom, are not erased. They are redeemed.

They become altars—holy places where we meet Him, and where others encounter His healing through our honesty.

The Cracked Pot

There is a Japanese art form called kintsugi, which means “golden joinery.” When a bowl or cup is broken, it is not discarded. Instead, it is repaired with gold. The cracks are not hidden; they are illuminated. The once-broken places become the most beautiful part of the vessel.

This is how God works in us. He does not waste our suffering. He does not discard us in our brokenness.

Instead, He heals us in a way that honors the story of our pain. He turns our wounds into witness, our grief into grace.

The cracked places become the places where His light shines through.

Naming the Wound, Offering the Altar

This week’s practice is one of brave vulnerability.

Naming and Offering Practice

1. Name a wound you carry—recent or old, large or small.

2. Write it down in a journal or prayer note. Be honest about how it feels.

3. Invite Jesus into it with a simple prayer:
   “Jesus, this still hurts. Meet me here.”

4. Offer it as an altar:

   • Light a candle.

   • Place your journal before God.

   • Say aloud: “Even here, You are holy.”

This doesn’t rush healing—it simply welcomes God into the wound.

God in the Grief

Pain can either isolate us or draw us into deeper intimacy with Christ. The cross shows us that Jesus is most clearly revealed in suffering.

When we rush to move past pain, we miss the presence of God in it. When we hide our wounds, we rob others of knowing they’re not alone.

But when we allow our brokenness to remain in the light—when we trust God to be present even there—those wounds become altars. Sacred spaces where others can kneel and find healing too.

Our scars don’t disqualify us. They tell the story of resurrection.

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
— Rumi

Reflection Questions

• What is one wound in your life that you avoid looking at?

• How has God already shown up in your pain—even if subtly?

• Who in your life might be encouraged by the story of your healing?

• How can you practice sacred noticing in your suffering this week?

Closing Prayer

Wounded Healer,
You are not repelled by my brokenness.
You move toward the bruised and burdened.
You are close to the crushed in spirit.
I offer You my pain—not fixed, not pretty, not resolved.
Let my wounds become places of worship,
Where I meet You face-to-face.
Redeem what still feels raw.
And let others find hope
In the places I once bled.
Amen.