The Societal Discomfort with Chronic Illness

"May you have the courage to sit with discomfort like it's a dawn not a death." ~ K.J. Ramsey

We live in a culture obsessed with fixing — fixing pain, fixing people, fixing anything that looks uncomfortable. But what if the invitation isn’t to fix at all? What if healing begins when we stop trying to escape suffering and start learning how to sit with it? This story is about what happens when well-meaning comfort meets the reality of chronic pain — and how, sometimes, the holiest thing we can do is simply stay present in the ache.

Sitting with Suffering: When Prayer Isn’t the Fix

One time my best friend and I were sitting down with a group of people, candidly sharing what real life looks like with chronic illness. Both of us have battled numerous health conditions for well over a decade.

As we spoke, someone in the group suddenly — and quite enthusiastically — chimed in,
“Wow, you two need to be prayed over!!”

Her tone carried the implication that we had somehow never thought of prayer before… and that maybe, just maybe, one heartfelt prayer could instantly fix everything.

Sigh.

She meant well. We know that. But the sting of the comment lingered in the air, awkward and heavy. We both felt too uncomfortable to do anything more than nervously laugh it off.

When Prayer Becomes a Prescription

It wasn’t the first time in the last 17 years that I’ve had prayer recommended as a cure-all. And it’s rarely just that simple.

I’ve been told:

• “Bitterness toward certain people can cause illness.”

• “Suffering might be a sign of unconfessed sin.”

• “My cousin’s sister’s best friend’s mom also had Crohn’s — she drank this new supplement and was cured!!” 😑

Each time, the message beneath the words feels the same: you must be doing something wrong.

Why We Struggle to Sit with Suffering

Why do we humans work so hard to find an explanation for pain?
Why are we so desperate to pull someone out of their suffering, rather than simply sitting beside them in it?

I believe it’s because we live in a culture where suffering is socially unacceptable.

We live in a world that:

• Worships productivity and perfection

• Promotes endless self-help formulas

• Celebrates success stories while shaming struggle

Our feeds are full of people who “overcame,” “manifested,” and “achieved.”
We crave control, and we chase the illusion that if we do everything right, life will turn out just the way we planned.

And somewhere along the way, we’ve molded God into that pursuit.
We treat Him like a genie in a bottle — expecting that, with the right words or prayers, He’ll fulfill our greatest desires.
And when He doesn’t, we question His goodness.

But this culture of success has it all backward.

It tells us that suffering is proof of the absence of grace —
yet Christ showed us the opposite.
It’s in the midst of suffering that grace is most clearly revealed.

After all, God chose to show His love for us through suffering.
So why do we assume that our pain means He has abandoned us?

What If We Saw Suffering Differently?

What if we stopped treating pain as an emergency to escape,
and started viewing it as an invitation to experience God more deeply?

Suffering can be:

• A sacred pause — an invitation to rest in the presence of God

• A teacher of empathy, patience, and kindness

• A soil where compassion grows roots we never knew we needed

• A mirror of the heart of Christ, who has felt every ache we feel

And perhaps most beautifully, our suffering — when shared — becomes a light for others walking through their own darkness.

Without the suffering, there wouldn’t be a story.

The Gift of Presence

What if the next time someone invites us into their pain,
we resisted the urge to fix it?

What if, instead of offering advice, explanations, or quick prayers,
we simply joined them in their grief with quiet compassion?

A gentle, “I hear you, and I’m here with you,”
can mean more than a thousand words of advice.

In that sacred act of presence, we become an extension of God’s grace —
not by solving someone’s pain, but by sitting inside it with them.

Because it’s there —
in the silence, the tears, the breathless moments where emotion is unfiltered and holy —
that the presence of God enters in.

And in that presence, peace, joy, and hope are quietly born. 💗

~ Emily Elizabeth Anderson