Guide Stars Lessons: Life, Pain, Purpose.
Pain has always been a part of the human experience, but it’s interesting how some people seem to almost embrace it, finding something deeper in their struggles. Take St. Paul, for example. He talked about having a “thorn in his flesh,” something that caused him ongoing pain. He asked God to take it away, but instead, God responded, “My grace is enough for you; my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Instead of feeling defeated, Paul took this as a sign that his pain had a purpose, that it brought him closer to something greater. He didn’t just endure his suffering; he almost welcomed it, believing it made him stronger and more connected to his faith.
This story highlights a common way we tend to look at challenges and pain. We often value our accomplishments more when we’ve had to fight hard for them. There’s this deep-seated belief that going through tough times somehow makes us better, more resilient. We even celebrate our struggles because they seem to prove our strength and growth. When we stop seeing pain as something purely negative and start viewing it as a chance to grow, we shift our mindset. Instead of being held back by challenges, we use them as stepping stones, pushing us to become stronger and more capable in the long run.
I get it—there’s a lot to unpack when it comes to why we seem to associate pain with purpose, especially when we look at it through the lens of theology. It’s almost as if, throughout history, God has used pain as a way to connect with his people, to get their attention, and to draw them closer to a deeper understanding of themselves and their purpose. In the Bible, you see this pattern over and over—whether it’s Job losing everything to eventually gain a greater understanding of God, or Paul’s thorn in the flesh that kept him humble and steadfast on divine strength. It makes you wonder if humans need discomfort to really get in touch with what matters most. Maybe we’re so distracted by the comforts of life that it takes something painful to strip away the noise and force us to focus on what’s truly important.
But then, there’s this weird nuance where we tend to look down on or undervalue people who seem to have it all figured out. It’s like we’re suspicious of anyone who doesn’t appear to struggle, especially during hard times. Take the early days of the coronavirus pandemic, for instance. Nobody wanted to watch TV shows about the rich and famous living in luxury while the rest of the world was grappling with a crisis. Those stories felt tone-deaf and out of touch because they didn’t reflect the struggles most people were facing. Those very TV shows were put on hold for the duration of the pandemic. This doesn’t seem to me to be about envy; it’s more complex. It’s almost as if we find comfort in shared struggles, in knowing that others are going through tough times too. Maybe it’s because trials make us feel more connected, more human, and when someone doesn’t seem to share that experience, we question their authenticity. So yeah, there’s definitely something deep and intrinsic about our fixation on trials, and figuring out why that is might help us understand ourselves a little better.
The psychology behind our obsession with struggle and relatability runs deep, and it’s something we can’t really ignore. One theory that helps explain this is Social Comparison Theory, which suggests that we determine our own social and personal worth based on how we stack up against others. When we see someone else going through hard times, it reassures us that we’re not alone in our struggles. Conversely, when someone seems to glide through life with ease, it can trigger feelings of inadequacy or resentment because they don’t fit into the shared narrative of what it means to “earn” success. This is why we’re drawn to stories of triumph over adversity; they validate our own experiences and struggles, making us feel like our hardships have meaning and that they’re part of the path to something better.
This theory ties in with how we view leaders and public figures, too. Politicians, for instance, know that being seen as relatable is crucial, especially when trying to win over working-class voters. It’s not just about what they say, but how they present themselves—down to the worn soles of their shoes. A well-placed photo of a candidate with scuffed shoes might seem trivial, but it sends a powerful message: “I’m one of you. I’m out there, putting in the work.” It taps into our deep-seated belief that hard work and visible effort are markers of authenticity and trustworthiness. We’re naturally skeptical of anyone who seems to have it too easy, so these strategies play into our need to see evidence of struggle, even in our leaders. Understanding this mindset can help us be more aware of the narratives we buy into and why certain symbols of effort and struggle resonate so strongly with us.
We’ve got to ask ourselves if this way of thinking—where we glorify struggle and hardship—is really doing us any good. Sure, tough times can push us to grow and discover strengths we didn’t even know we had. There’s something to be said for how challenges can propel us forward. But let’s be real—there’s a downside too. If we’re always comparing our struggles to others, or believing that only through pain can we achieve something meaningful, we might be missing out on seeing the value in ease and joy. It’s like we’re constantly measuring our worth by how much we’ve suffered, which can be exhausting and pretty unhealthy.
The thing is, life doesn’t have to be all about hardship, and it’s okay to look at the world through a lens of ease and positivity. Dropping the habit of comparing our struggles with others can actually be really freeing. It doesn’t mean we’re ignoring the tough stuff; it just means we’re choosing to focus on what lifts us up. And while it’s important to recognize how pain has shaped us, it’s also crucial to remember that success and happiness don’t always have to come with suffering. So, the trick is finding that balance—appreciating what both the struggles and the moments of ease bring to our lives without getting stuck in the comparison game.
