Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope. (ESV)

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (NIV)

This is one of those verses where the Christian life gets real. Real real.

Like many people, I choose a word for each year—or sometimes it’s chosen for me. It’s simply a lens to look through and hold onto. So, at the beginning of 2024, I kept hearing the word endurance. Yep. Endurance. Over and over. And I know what you're thinking…I was, too.

It took me a while to claim it, because it felt like the same thing as praying for patience. (Which we all know is asking God to give you opportunities to be patient.) It was a dangerous word, and I began to anticipate the suffering that would be its catalyst. 

A couple of months later, when I sat in the hospital room with my son, my wife and I wept, prayed, and worshipped. In the midst of our greatest pain and uncertainty, we cried out to God in surrender. We had nothing to control, so we rejoiced in the one who is and pleaded for a miracle, and He answered. 

Flash forward two weeks later—when perception of control, intrusive thoughts, and anxiety rolled in like a 10-wheeler—that rejoicing began to feel really, really hard. Enter: endurance. 

For me, when faced with moments of suffering, rejoicing actually tends to come easily. But off the back of that suffering, when everyone around me moves on from it and forgets about it, it tends to prove nearly impossible to rejoice…

Endurance is what kept me going after the hospital stay, when the adrenaline wore off and the quiet nights brought waves of anxiety and intrusive thoughts. It was the farthest thing from easy and natural. It looked like choosing to keep praying when my heart felt numb, showing up for my family when all my mind wanted to do was check out, and opening the Bible when I kept thinking I was getting nothing out of it. 

Endurance isn’t about our strength, it’s about remaining and abiding in the one who gives it–even when everything in me wants to give up. 

From that endurance, character was being formed—because every choice to trust God over my own control was reshaping who I am. Character doesn’t happen in a moment; it’s forged in the middle of those long nights, in the discipline of surrender, and in the decisions no one else sees. 

Hope became more than a word—it’s become my strength. 

Rejoicing can’t rely on looking back; it requires us to look forward. To hope. 

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Romans 12:12

Written by Blake Stanley