By Kurt Barnes
Life sure can throw a lot at us, can’t it? One minute things are great, the next, you’re facing something really tough. In my post (https://kurtbarnes.org/2024/11/20/walking-with-a-limp-faith-and-chronic-pain/), I talked about how a bad accident at work left me with chronic pain – something I never expected. I shared how confusing and scary that was, and how I even wondered where God was in all of it. Those feelings are still real. But as I keep going down this road, even though I’m still hurting, I’m learning something important about how to find real joy, even when the pain is screaming at me.
The secret I’m finding? It’s about sticking close to Jesus. (Abiding)
That idea of “sticking close” or “abiding,” as the Bible sometimes calls it, might sound a bit like church talk. But for me, it’s become very real. It means holding onto Christ’s love and making that my home base, especially when the storm of chronic pain feels like it’s trying to knock me over.
But how do you “stick close” when every part of you hurts? When the pain makes it hard to even think straight? This is where it gets really personal, and why it’s so important to be kind to others who are hurting. Some days, my pain is loud, wanting all my attention. On those days, sticking close isn’t always about long prayers or deep Bible study. Sometimes, it’s just a quick, “Jesus, help me.” Sometimes, meditating on a single Bible verse that has helped me before – such as “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9) – and simply breathing with those words, can be a powerful practice. Breathing in, “Your grace is all I need”; breathing out, “Your power is at work in me.”
It’s not about how strong I am, how hard I try. It’s about resting in His strength, what He did on the cross, and His never-ending love that holds me even when I don’t feel it. It’s choosing, even in a small way, to believe that the pain isn’t the biggest thing in my life.
This is how we can start to feel both pain and good things at the same time. I know it sounds weird. How can you feel good things when you’re in agony? How can joy show up when you’re so uncomfortable all the time? The good things aren’t always about the pain going away (though we all hope for that). The good thing is His presence. The joy is knowing you’re not alone, that God sees you, gets it, and is with you in the middle of the fire. It’s that surprising peace that can come even when your body is still fighting. It’s being able to still see a pretty sunset, to feel thankful for a loving wife like my Summer, or to connect with someone else who understands – these are little bits of His goodness, shining through the clouds of pain.
For me, sticking close to Him has become my most pressing and vital task. It’s choosing to turn my thoughts to Him even when my body just wants me to focus on the hurt and give up. It’s making myself remember how He’s helped me in the past. If He was there for me then, He’s here for me now. This isn’t about pretending the pain isn’t real. It’s very real. It’s about inviting Jesus into the middle of that pain, and letting His love be the bigger story.
If you’re reading this and your own pain is really loud today, my heart goes out to you. I know how it feels to be overwhelmed, to wonder if you can get through another hour. Please know you’re not by yourself. And please hear this invitation, not from someone who has it all figured out, but from someone else on this tough road (for 16 years): try to stick close to Him, even in the smallest way. Let your cry of pain be a prayer. Let yourself lean on Him when you’re tired. He’s not far away or doesn’t care. He is God with us – with you, right now, in this moment.
This journey with chronic pain keeps changing me, just like I know it changes many of you. For me, by sticking close to Jesus, I’m finding that even in pain, Christ’s love is real and present. It hasn’t made the pain disappear, but it offers hope, grace, lasting joy, and satisfaction in a way that nothing else can. And that gives me the strength not just to get through it, but to find moments of real, God-given goodness, right in the middle of the struggle.

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