Tag Archive for: Romans 5:3-4

Romans 5:3-4 “Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”

Laura didn’t expect Facebook to hurt. But somehow, it did.

She had just signed up for it, like everyone else she knew. It was new. Easy. Harmless. A place to scroll through happy faces, birthday dinners, and funny stories from people she hadn’t seen since high school.

The only problem was that their picture-perfect highlights looked nothing like the life she was living.

Not long before, she and her husband, Martin, sat in a sterile hospital room, listening to words no one ever wants to hear. Brain tumor. Surgery. Risks. She held her breath, hoping for healing. He survived—but the man who came home was not the same. His memory slipped. His vision blurred, and he struggled with basic skills.

While other people posted milestone moments, Laura sat in rehab waiting rooms, coaching her husband through how to button a shirt.

Facebook became unbearable. Everyone else seemed to be moving forward. Her life had slammed to a halt. Eventually, she stopped opening the app altogether. It hurt too much to compare her pain to their joy.

She stopped scrolling, and started praying. Not polished prayers. Just questions. She brought her anger and grief. And somehow, God didn’t flinch. Even when she had nothing to say.

In time, they found their way. It was not a perfect life, but it was still life. And it was theirs.

Later, sitting at the piano, Laura put words to what her heart had learned the hard way:

“Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?”

Friend, we can be so quick to scroll past pain—to hide it, mute it, deny it. But what if it is the very place God chooses to meet us? And the God who walks with us through fire is faithful to shape even our suffering into something good.

 

Lyrics

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand
To ease our suffering
And all the while, You hear each spoken need
Yet love us way too much to give us lesser things

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
And we cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your word is not enough
And all the while, You hear each desperate plea
And long that we’d have faith to believe

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

When friends betray us
And when darkness seems to win, we know
The pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It’s not our home

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops?
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know You’re near?
What if my greatest disappointments
Or the aching of this life
Is the revealing of a greater thirst
This world can’t satisfy?

And what if trials of this life
The rain, the storms, the hardest nights
Are Your mercies in disguise?

Songwriters: Laura Mixon Story
Blessings lyrics © New Spring Publishing Inc., Laura Stories, New Spring Publishing Inc.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”

Romans 5:3-4

Eliza hated the silence. Her life had always been so full of movement and things to do. She spent her days teaching, writing, and serving others. But now, all of that was gone.

The injury had taken it from her.

She lay in bed, her body aching, her spirit restless. The days felt unbearably long, and the quietness stretched on. At first, she fought against it. She asked the same questions over and over: Why me? What now? Where are you God?

But as the days passed, she started to read her Bible. This was not the casual kind of reading for passing the time. No. She was desperate.

And in those long, slow hours spent in the Word, she saw things she had never noticed before. Words she had once skimmed past now felt alive. Promises she had memorized now felt like they were written just for her.

She knew she was not just surviving this hardship—God was doing something in it.

One day, she found herself humming a song she had started writing before the injury. It was just another project back then. But now? The words meant something. It went like this.

“When we all get to heaven,
What a day of rejoicing that will be!
When we all see Jesus,
We’ll sing and shout the victory!”

She had never clung to heaven like this before. She had never needed to. But now, her hope in Jesus felt different. Stronger. More real.

When she finally released the song, it spread like wildfire. People who were hurting and searching found something in those words—something bigger than their pain.

Eliza Hewitt would have never chosen this hardship, but looking back, she saw it clearly. Her pain had not been wasted. God turned her silence into a song of hope, and it was too valuable to keep to herself.

That’s the thing. Sometimes, the greatest good that comes out of our hardship is what we are called to give away. Could it be that the very thing you are wrestling with is the thing that someone else needs to hear?