The Fellowship of His Sufferings
Jul 3 2026 - Eric Buresh
Most of us would prefer to know Christ without suffering. We would gladly choose joy without sorrow. Strength without weakness. Victory without struggle. And yet Scripture repeatedly presents suffering as a place of unusual intimacy with God. Not because suffering itself is good. But because suffering often strips away the distractions that keep us from seeing Him clearly.
In the theme verse of our current Knowing Jesus series, Paul writes:
“That I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings…”
— Philippians 3:10 (NKJV)
At first glance, this seems like a strange prayer. Who asks for fellowship in suffering? Who desires that? But Paul understood something many of us spend years learning. There are aspects of Christ that can only be known when we need Him.
It is one thing to believe Jesus is sufficient. It is another thing to discover His sufficiency when everything else has been taken away. It is one thing to affirm that God is near. It is another thing to experience His presence in the valley. It is one thing to speak of His faithfulness. It is another thing to lean upon it when nothing else feels secure. Suffering does not create these realities. It reveals them.
This is one reason God often accomplishes profound work through difficult seasons. The things we once trusted begin to fail. The things we once depended upon begin to shake. And suddenly Christ is no longer one source among many. He becomes our refuge.
We can begin to truly say with the psalmist:
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”
— Psalm 46:1 (NKJV)
Not merely present.
Very present. Many believers can testify to this. They would never choose the valley again. But neither would they trade what they learned there. The suffering was not pleasant. But Christ became precious.
This is one of the mysteries of the Christian life. The same season that exposes weakness deepens dependence. The same season that produces tears reveals grace. The same season that strips away confidence in self strengthens confidence in God.
And perhaps this is what Paul means by fellowship. Not simply sharing Christ’s suffering. But discovering His companionship within it. After all, we do not follow a distant Savior. We follow One who was: Rejected. Misunderstood. Mocked. Abandoned. Betrayed. Crucified. There is no valley we enter where He has not already gone before us.
This matters because suffering often carries a secondary temptation. Isolation. We begin to feel that no one understands. No one sees. No one knows. Yet Hebrews reminds us:
“For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses…”
— Hebrews 4:15 (NKJV)
Christ is not merely aware of our suffering. He understands it. And somehow, in ways difficult to explain, suffering transforms that truth from doctrine into experience. The believer discovers that Christ is not only a Savior to admire. He is a Shepherd to follow because He’s been there before.
Not only on mountaintops. But in valleys. Not only in celebration. But in sorrow. Not only when life makes sense. But when it does not. And perhaps that is why some of the deepest believers possess both unusual joy and unusual tenderness. They have suffered. And in that suffering, they have learned something precious: Christ is not just enough, He is everything. All other secondary good flows from Him. And they trust that He is good. All the time.
Not because they read it. Not because they heard it. But because they met Him there in the valley when all the secondary things were stripped away.
A Prayer for Deeper Fellowship Lord, help me not to waste the difficult seasons You allow into my life.
When suffering comes, draw me nearer to You.
Teach me to depend upon Your strength rather than my own.
Let hardship reveal Your faithfulness, Your presence, and Your sufficiency more clearly.
And help me discover that You are not only the Savior who rescues me, but the Shepherd who walks with me.
Amen.
Next Post: Hope in the Valley How believers endure suffering without becoming cynical, bitter, or defeated.