Overcoming Discouragement in Suffering

Divine Appeal Reflection - 284

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 284: "Do not be discouraged when you suffer."

Discouragement is a heavy shadow that falls when suffering lingers and prayers seem unanswered. Yet our Adorable Jesus teaches us to see suffering not as abandonment but as invitation. In Gethsemane, He trembled, yet still whispered, “Father, not My will but Yours be done” (cf. Lk 22). The human heart longs to escape hardship, but Christ sanctified suffering by entering it. Job, seated in ashes, discovered that God was closer in loss than in abundance (cf. Job 19). Mary, pierced by sorrow at Calvary, stood unwavering, her hope fixed on God’s promise (cf. Jn 19). The Catechism reminds us that when trials are united to Christ’s Passion, they share in His redeeming mission (cf. CCC 618). Illness, rejection, or failure are not abstract experiences for Paul, who holds that suffering engenders spiritual maturity when accepted with faith ; it is endurance shaping one's character and hope (cf. Rom 5:3-4). Discouragement claims that nothing is worthwhile; hope instead reminds us that every unnoticed act of love is gathered by God into eternity. David’s cries became psalms (cf. Ps 51), Peter’s tears birthed courage (cf. Lk 22:62), and Paul’s chains became a pulpit for the Gospel (cf. Phil 1:12–13). So too, our weakness, offered quietly to Christ, becomes seed for eternity.

Discouragement often comes when we measure ourselves by human standards. We see weakness and lose heart. But God loves to work His power through human weakness. Moses could hardly speak for fear; Jeremiah quailed before his youth; Peter faltered in his loyalty-these very weaknesses became vessels of grace (cf. Ex 3; Jer 1; Lk 22). Their greatness was not by their own achievement but was given by God. Saints, too, carried weakness with courage: Francis of Assisi embraced ridicule and turned poverty into joy; Josephine Bakhita bore chains yet witnessed to Christ’s freedom; Padre Pio carried hidden wounds for the Church. Oppressed into the shadows of the catacombs, the first disciples refused to bow down before fear, thereby acquiring a greater boldness to sustain the Church through hidden liturgies, whispered psalms, and the breaking of bread (cf. Acts 2). Their faith bloomed not in ease, but in difficulty. Today, discouragement may manifest in subtler forms-financial straits, outright cultural hostility to belief, or burdens carried silently within families. Yet Christ, who fed the multitude in the wilderness, multiplies the little that we can give-and thus grace (cf. Mt 14). Small things that seem too minuscule to matter are turned by His hands into the nourishment of many. And here the heart learns that which the Apostle declared: hope does not put one to shame because it is grounded not on our own capacity to endure, but on God's unstinting fidelity (cf. Rom 5:5). The promise of God stands firm when our strength begins to falter, and it is in our weakness that His abundance is made manifest. To rest weakness in His hands is to discover that what seems insufficient can become miracle.

There is another discouragement—more silent, more hidden—that grows when sacrifices seem unseen and unnoticed. How often the soul asks, “Does my prayer matter? Does my offering change anything?” Yet Scripture answers resoundingly: Hannah’s silent tears bore Samuel, a prophet for generations (cf. 1 Sam 1). The widow’s two coins became a lesson for eternity (cf. Mk 12). The nameless disciples of the early Church, opening homes and persevering in prayer, became foundations of the Kingdom (cf. Rom 16). The Catechism teaches that every act united to Christ becomes part of His providential plan (cf. CCC 307). Saints such as Bernadette in her obscurity and Brother Lawrence in his kitchen remind us that hidden faithfulness is radiant before God. Practically, this means the caregiver at midnight, the worker forgiving quietly, the youth resisting despair—all are precious offerings. Discouragement blinds us to this truth; hope unmasks the lie. For the Cross itself, judged as defeat, was in reality love’s greatest triumph. In Christ, no offering is wasted.

The soul learns to conquer discouragement by cultivating memory. The Scriptures echo this command: remember God’s works, recall His mercies. Israel remembered the Exodus; the apostles remembered Christ’s promises; the Church remembers in every Eucharist that death has been overcome (cf. Ex 12; Jn 14; Lk 22). Hope grows when memory is alive. Ignatius led hearts to follow the silent footsteps of grace through the examen, while Teresa of Ávila taught the soul to cherish even the smallest compassion. The saints nurtured this discipline with brilliant fidelity. We, too, can enter this school of gratitude—by recording blessings, speaking testimonies within our families, and pausing at day’s end to return thanks to God who never ceases to give. Above all, the Eucharist anchors us—here, remembrance is no mere thought, but living encounter with the Risen Christ. Our Adorable Jesus, hidden in the Host, whispers to every weary soul: “Do not be discouraged when you suffer. Your hope in Me will not disappoint.” Discouragement fades when memory is alive; hope endures because Christ is faithful. In His gaze, pain is no longer meaningless—it becomes love offered, a chalice poured out for eternity. In remembrance, the soul rises above discouragement, finding courage in the One who never forgets us.

Prayer

Adorable Jesus, when discouragement weighs upon us, lift our hearts to hope that never disappoints. Teach us to remember Your mercies, to treasure hidden sacrifices, and to trust that suffering united with You becomes love. In Your Eucharistic presence, may our souls find strength, courage, and joy that endures forever. Amen

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.