How to Find Meaning in God During Life’s Deepest Struggles

By James Katende – Life’s storms come without warning. Sometimes, it feels as if the whole world is crashing down—the job is lost, relationships are broken, health is failing, and the future looks uncertain and dark.

In those moments, the question echoes in the deepest part of the soul: Where is God? Is there meaning to this pain? How can I keep going when everything feels lost? This is the question of humanity. The question that Jesus Himself faced in Gethsemane, the question His disciples wrestled with after the Cross, and the question believers have asked throughout every generation.

The answer is not easy. It does not come wrapped in simple platitudes or quick fixes. It is found in the presence of God amid the pain—not the absence of pain. Meaning is not found by escaping suffering but by entering it with God at your side. God does not promise a life free of hardship. He promises to be a refuge, a strength, and a hope when hardship comes. The psalmist declares: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23:4) This presence transforms the valley from a place of despair into a place of encounter. An encounter with God’s love, grace, and purpose.

When life falls apart, meaning is found in surrender—not in control. It is found in trusting a God who holds all things together, even when our hands feel empty. It is found in believing that God’s story is greater than our pain, that our wounds are not the end of the narrative, but a chapter in a larger redemption. Meaning emerges when we remember that suffering is never wasted in God’s economy. It shapes, refines, and prepares us for greater purposes. Joseph, thrown into a pit, sold into slavery, falsely accused, imprisoned—yet he became a saviour to nations. Job, stripped of all, cried out but ultimately knew that his Redeemer lives. Jesus Himself bore the cross so that we might carry ours with hope. In the darkest moments, faith is not blind optimism; it is the courageous choice to cling to God’s promises. It is to say, “Though my heart is heavy, I will hope.” It is to believe that God’s light shines brightest in our darkest nights.

The Church is called to be the Body of Christ—not just in celebration but in suffering. It is called to be a refuge, a family, and a healing community for those walking through life’s hardest trials. But how can the Church truly be that sanctuary? The first and most powerful ministry the Church can offer is presence. Too often, people in pain are met with silence or platitudes. But what they need is someone to be with them—to listen without judgment, to hold their hand, to cry with them, to pray with them. Jesus shows us the way: He wept with Mary and Martha, touched the lepers, and spent nights in prayer for His friends. The Church must be that living presence—visible, tangible, and constant.

Compassion that hides from the truth is no compassion at all. The Church must create spaces where people can bring their raw, broken stories without fear. Confessionals, counselling ministries, support groups, and healing services must welcome the wounded with open arms. The Church’s compassion is rooted in the cross—a place where pain is met with love, where brokenness is met with redemption. It does not ignore suffering but embraces it with the power of Christ’s resurrection. Many come to the Church hungry for answers but leave confused or unchanged because the Church does not equip them fully. The Church must teach the faithful how to pray in suffering, how to use Scripture as a balm, and how to hold fast to God’s promises.

Sacraments like the Anointing of the Sick, Reconciliation, and Eucharist are powerful sources of grace for those in pain. The Church must ensure that people understand and experience these gifts deeply. Loneliness amplifies suffering. The Church must foster small groups, ministries, and fellowship opportunities where the hurting can find a family. Community meals, prayer meetings, and acts of service can create bonds that bring healing. When the Church becomes family, no one walks alone.

Sometimes faith must walk hand in hand with practical help. The Church can assist those in crisis with counselling, financial aid, medical care referrals, and social services. It can advocate for the vulnerable and partner with organisations that provide real-world support. When the Church meets physical needs, it reveals the tangible love of God. If you are walking through the valley today, know this: your pain is not ignored by God. Your tears are not forgotten. Your struggle is not meaningless. God is near. He sees you. He loves you. Don’t be afraid to bring your whole self to Him—even the anger, the doubt, the sorrow. He can handle it all. Find a Church community where you are welcomed, heard, and healed. Don’t isolate yourself. Healing is found in relationship—with God and with His people.

To the Church leaders and faithful: the world is hurting. The broken come with open wounds, searching for healing. The Church is called to be the hope of the hopeless. Let us be a Church that walks with the hurting, not past them. A Church that listens more than it lectures. A Church that prays more than it judges. A Church that embodies Christ’s love—tender, fierce, and relentless. Let our hands be healing hands. Our words be comforting words. Our hearts be open hearts. The Gospel is the good news not just of salvation but of restoration. Let us proclaim it in word and deed.

Meaning is not a destination—it is a journey. A journey walked with Christ, supported by the Church, and shared with brothers and sisters who lift one another. When life seems to lose all meaning, it is in God that meaning is found anew. Through suffering, love is refined. Through darkness, light is revealed. Through death, resurrection dawns. Hold fast to that hope. Let the Church be your refuge. Let God be your strength. You are not alone. You are deeply loved. And there is a purpose—greater than you can see now—that God is weaving through your pain.