In the midst of one of the harshest winter seasons, we have seen in many years where I live, a memory of another harsh winter revisited me. Over 20 years ago, that one extended well into April, with snow on the ground until May. I remember sewing with my youngest daughter while listening to The Secret Garden on cassette tape, in an effort to keep our hope for the soon arrival of spring alive. Unable to get out much, we longed for that bleak season to come to an end.
In the same way my daughter and I battled discouragement and a bit of cabin fever one long ago winter, we often encounter seasons when suffering feels like a narrowing. Our world contracts around pain, uncertainty, or loss, and the horizon seems to disappear. In those moments, hope feels inaccessible, like a distant light we remember but cannot quite see.
“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.“
Yet Scripture never treats suffering and hope as opposites. Instead, it holds them together in a mysterious, holy tension. Paul writes that “suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope.” Not hope after suffering but hope through it. Hope born in the very places we would least expect it.
Walking through our own seasons of sorrow, we often want one or the other — relief without the suffering or clarity without the mystery.
In the tension between suffering and hope there is a sacred space where our faith is transformed by a deeply personal encounter with the love of Christ.
But Christ invites us into something deeper: a way of living where suffering becomes the path to hope, not the diminishing of it. A way where both suffering and hope coexist, shaping us into people who demonstrate generous love, deep trust, and spirit led sight.
This tension presents not a problem to solve, but a place to dwell — a sacred space where Christ meets us, not with explanations, but with presence.
It embodies the paradox at the heart of the Christian life. The path of Christ leads through the valley, love is revealed in sacrifice, and resurrection is hidden inside the shadow of the cross.
a Companion for the Journey
From this place of deep reflection and knowing, my new book, A Passion for Christ began taking shape. Not as a roadmap out of suffering, but as a companion for the journey; a gentle guide toward the One who walks with us through it.
Holding suffering and hope together is not only hard work, but holy work. Over time, I returned again and again to the Passion of Christ as the place where this mystery dwells in all its fullness. Out of that returning, this book was born — a quiet offering shaped by the very tension it seeks to explore.
There are seasons when faith feels certain and seasons when it feels fragile.
There are moments when the Passion of Christ is familiar, and moments when it asks something deeper of us.
A Passion for Christ was written in one of those deeper seasons.
This book is not a study guide or a set of answers. It is an invitation to a slow walk through the Passion of Christ — not as an event observed from a distance, but as a mystery that continues to shape a living faith.
This book grew out of my own desire to linger with Jesus in His suffering, to listen for His voice in the places where pain and love meet, and to allow His Passion to form a deeper passion for Him in my own life.
what’s Inside?
This book traces the quiet journey from witnessing Christ’s suffering to allowing His suffering to form increased devotion, compassion, and love within our hearts. Through reflective readings, Scripture, prayerful practices, and meditations on 40 names of Christ, its pages invite you to move slowly through the Passion of Christ so that a deeper, enduring passion for Christ might take root.
While this journey aligns beautifully with the Lenten season, it is not confined to it. The call to repentance, renewal, and deeper intimacy spans a lifetime.
My hope is that these reflections will serve as a gentle companion for anyone longing to draw near to Christ in both the shadow and the light. It is my gift to those who find themselves in seasons of sorrow, for those seeking renewal, and for those who earnestly want to love Him more. As you linger with Christ in both His suffering and His love, may it awaken a deeper passion for Him in your own life.
If you find yourself longing for a faith able to hold both suffering and hope, this book was written with you in mind. May it meet you with the same tenderness and truth that met me in the writing.
A Passion for Christ is now available on Amazon. Click this LINK to order.
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Congratulations on your book Donna. What a beautiful message. Pausing to reflect upon your words today.
Visiting today from Joanne’s
Thank you, my dear friend, Paula for your kind words! May God richly bless you!
Congratulations on your book, Donna! I’m looking forward to reading it. The holy tension between hope and suffering brings to mind our perspective on a glass of water half-filled. We can view it as half full or half empty – though the exact amount of liquid is in the glass. Likewise, suffering can be seen as negative or as a positive that works in us: character, resilience, and strength. A wonderful reminder to lean into Him, persevere, and let His endurance have its perfect result in us.
Thank you, Lisa! How true, about perspective, I think the key to resilience in suffering is perspective both on the suffering (and its purpose) as well as our perspective on who God is in the suffering. When we view God as good, we are more likely to lean into Him with hope, assured of the redemptive value of our suffering.
So true, Donna! Our perspective of His character as a good God helps us lean into Him with hope.
Amen Sweet Sister!