I’ve spent nearly my entire life living in Utah, USA, where the winters are cold, so when I stepped off the plane on February 19, 1998, in Guatemala City, the warmth immediately told me I wasn’t in Utah anymore.
I was almost a head taller than everyone around me, and they were speaking a language that was supposed to be Spanish. I didn’t understand a word, even though I studied Spanish for five years prior to getting off that plane.
I arrived at the house where we would stayed that first night. There were two seasoned volunteers that shepherded the newcomers. They told us story after story of some of the terrible things they had experienced.
I lay awake late into the night wondering what I had done. A large spider web in the corner of my room held, I was sure, some creature that would descend in the night and suck me dry.
Funny thing, though. I didn’t get sucked dry that night. The sun came up like it always did, and I spent the next nearly two years serving and teaching the people in Guatemala.
While I was there, Hurricane Mitch swept across Central America. Guatemala wasn’t devastated like some other countries, but because large communities were built from little more than sticks, tarps, and corrugated material, thousands of structures were destroyed, leaving those who were already destitute homeless.
We were privileged to have a safe place to sleep every night and never went without food. Hundreds of thousands of people struggled to meet their most basic needs.
It’s hard to watch the suffering of others and not want to do something, anything, everything, to lessen their burdens. While suffering is a part of life, I also acknowledge the privilege I enjoy when I can walk to a cabinet in my home and get Ibuprofen when I have a headache.
Stating the obvious: every person will, at times and seasons, suffer. Some suffer little and some intensely. In my opinion, it’s nobody’s place to offer unsolicited advice to someone who suffers.
Even so, Dan Pedersen said something thought-provoking in relation to suffering:
I think there’s a message in suffering. That as real as suffering may seem, it’s actually an illusion. Or that it’s a temporary means to a better end. In other words, the suffering still occurs — we experience the pain, but it’s not the ultimate reality. That it pales in comparison to the ultimate reality.
The “ultimate reality” he’s talking about comes from the lessons that we learn from suffering. Introspection can be hard during and following the suffering. Sometimes, the only lesson we learn is that we want to put the experience behind us.
However, there are times when intentionally looking for lessons can be eye-opening. Often, the lessons learned in the “furnace of affliction” are far more impactful than the lessons that come from sunshine and roses.
I’m not sure anyone welcomes suffering, but it’s one of those things that can be a profound teacher. I didn’t know what I would find when I went to Guatemala — either in the world around me or inside myself. Being there taught me to look past the immediate discomfort, past my fear of blood-sucking spiders in the dark or the helplessness I felt witnessing immense poverty. On some level, witnessing that kind of difficulty helped me begin to understand how resilient people really are.
Dan Pedersen’s words ring true because they highlight a paradox: there’s no question that suffering is real, yet it’s never permanent. Suffering forces us to acknowledge that life is fragile and strong, perhaps in equal measure.
The “ultimate reality” is not the suffering but what’s beyond the horizon: the growth, empathy, and clarity it can bring.
It’s not always easy — or even possible — to find meaning in pain, but the effort to seek it can shape us in profound and unexpected ways.
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