When the Wound Becomes a Place of Service

On Second Thought

“Seeing then that we have a great High Priest, that is passed into the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our profession.” — Hebrews 4:14

We naturally want to believe that a useful life will develop along a straight and pleasant road. We imagine that God prepares people for service through good homes, encouraging relationships, sound health, and doors that open at the proper time. He certainly uses such blessings, but Scripture and Christian history reveal another pattern. God sometimes prepares His servants through experiences they would never have chosen. The hardship itself is not good, but God’s redemptive work within it can produce something that serves a higher purpose.

Mary Slessor’s early life would not have appeared to be preparation for missionary service. Born in Scotland in 1848, she grew up amid poverty, crowded living conditions, and the instability caused by her father’s alcoholism. She reportedly endured his violence and was sometimes forced from the family home. Those experiences were unjust, frightening, and damaging. We should never romanticize suffering as though cruelty becomes acceptable merely because God later brings good from it. The sin belonged to those who inflicted the harm; the redeeming work belonged to God.

Mary eventually became a Christian and answered God’s call to missionary service in what is now Nigeria. Chronic illness, isolation, and unfamiliar surroundings could easily have overwhelmed her. Yet the endurance developed during her difficult youth became part of the strength she carried into threatening situations. She lived close to the people she served, learned their language, entered communities that others feared, and intervened to protect vulnerable children, including twins who were endangered by local superstitions. The woman who had known what it meant to be defenseless became a defender of others.

Mary expressed her ministry perspective simply: “Christ sent me to preach the Gospel; He will look after the results.” That statement does not sound like someone denying hardship. It sounds like someone who had learned that obedience belongs to the servant while outcomes belong to Christ. She could enter uncertain situations because she did not believe she carried the future alone.

Job reached a similar point of surrender, although by a very different road. He lost his children, possessions, health, and social standing. His friends offered explanations that increased his suffering, and Job repeatedly asked God to account for what had happened. When the Lord finally spoke, He did not provide Job with a detailed explanation of the heavenly conflict introduced at the beginning of the book. Instead, God revealed Himself.

Job responded, “I have uttered that I understood not; things too wonderful for me, which I knew not…. I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear: but now mine eye seeth thee” (Job 42:3, 5). Job did not discover that his losses were insignificant. He discovered that God was greater than the limits of Job’s understanding. His suffering had raised questions, but the presence of God became more sustaining than the explanations Job had demanded.

Hebrews 4 brings this truth directly to Christ. Jesus is not a distant High Priest offering detached advice about suffering. Scripture says, “For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities” (Hebrews 4:15). The Greek word sympatheō means to suffer with or to share another’s feeling. Jesus understands weakness from within human experience. He knew hunger, fatigue, loneliness, rejection, temptation, grief, betrayal, physical agony, and death, yet He remained without sin.

Because Jesus understands, we are invited to “come boldly unto the throne of grace” (Hebrews 4:16). “Boldly” translates parrēsia, a word expressing confidence, openness, and freedom of speech. God does not require us to disguise our wounds before approaching Him. We may come honestly, naming our fear, weariness, confusion, and need. At His throne we receive mercy for our failures and grace for the exact moment when help is needed.

Our pain does not qualify us to serve others merely because we survived it; it becomes useful when it has been surrendered to Christ. Unhealed wounds can make us reactive, suspicious, or controlling. Wounds placed in the hands of Jesus can deepen compassion, sharpen discernment, and teach us how to sit patiently with another person’s anguish. Christ does not waste our suffering, but neither does He leave it unattended. He meets us within it and gradually transforms what once only hurt us into a place from which we may offer mercy.

This does not mean every adversity is a secret blessing that must be celebrated. Some experiences should be grieved. Some injustices should be confronted. Some losses will remain painful throughout this life. Faith does not require us to call evil good. Faith declares that evil, grief, and human failure do not possess enough power to prevent God from completing His work.

On Second Thought

We usually ask God to remove our weakness so that we can become useful. Yet the unexpected answer may be that our confessed weakness becomes the very place where Christ’s compassion reaches another person. The person who has never been frightened may struggle to understand fear. The person who has never needed mercy may offer correction without tenderness. But someone who has met Christ at the throne of grace can stand beside the hurting without pretending that simple answers will erase complicated pain. Our highest usefulness may develop not despite our dependence upon God but through it.

Perhaps a higher purpose is not discovered by looking backward and explaining every wound. Perhaps it begins by looking upward and entrusting every unanswered part of our story to Jesus. Mary Slessor could not change her childhood, and Job never received a complete explanation for his suffering. Yet both learned that God remained trustworthy when life could not be understood. What you have endured does not have to become your identity, but in the hands of Christ, it may become part of your ministry. Bring it boldly to the throne of grace and allow the One who sympathizes with your weakness to decide how even this may serve His loving purpose.

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