I was rushing to fix my truck, wrenches turning and time slipping away, desperate to finish before the weekend ended. In my haste, I slipped on a bolt, cutting my hand. The pain forced me to stop, go inside, clean the wound, apply Neosporin, and bandage it. If I hadn’t felt that pain, my brain wouldn’t have signaled me to pause and treat the injury. I might have kept working, letting grease seep into the wound, risking infection, and potentially losing my hand, arm, or even my life. My uncle faced something similar—a small cut on his diabetic foot led to losing his foot, then his leg, both legs, and ultimately his life.

I’ve learned that, while pain is awful, it serves a purpose, whether it’s physical or emotional. Without pain, I’d never know when to course-correct. In my suffering, I discover more about myself, who God is, and how I often rush through life, missing what’s right in front of me.

This life offers many pleasures, but no matter the high, I’m always left wanting more, never fully satisfied. I believe God placed this longing deep in my soul—and in all of us—to draw us to Him. We try to fill it with temporary gratifications, but when they fade, only emptiness remains. I don’t know why I keep chasing these fleeting things, even though I know Christ alone fills the void. The world creeps in, feels good, and I forget what truly satisfies—until pain strikes again. In those seasons of suffering, I stop, run to the Lord, read the Bible, fast, and pray, and He patches me back up.

I don’t understand why I do what I do, but I’ve learned pain has a purpose. Instead of asking God to take it away, I ask Him to change me and show me how to avoid the mistakes that caused the wound. In the end, all that matters is honoring and obeying God.

“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” —Psalm 139:23-24