There are so many things in life that are hard to experience. So many things that we would like to avoid. My dad had open heart surgery this past week, and as I sat in the waiting room, counting the minutes until we could go see him and see that he was okay, we also felt dread. As much as my mom and brother and I wanted to see my dad, we also wished we could avoid this part, that we could skip ahead to the spot in this story where he is awake and joking and being himself. It’s difficult to see suffering, to watch someone experience pain, to see someone endure grief, and sometimes maybe we are tempted to come up with reasons not to look.

But walking through the hallway to his ICU room, I knew that witnessing this moment before he was awake, this scary scene of machines and tubes and a ventilator, would help me to know better what makes him who he is. And a couple hours later, when he was beginning to rouse and his pain was setting in, I felt honored to be a witness to that, too. Suffering is part of what makes us, us. In fact, the Bible teaches that suffering is a necessary part of God’s work in our lives, as it is the “fiery ordeal” that helps make us more like Jesus (1 Peter 4:12).

God uses suffering to sanctify us, and although we know that God sees every moment of secret suffering, I fully believe that as Christians we are called to stand by as witnesses for each other, as brothers and sisters who are willing to see what most would want to avoid, so that we can understand each other better, so that we can grasp the depths of what our fellow Christians have endured, and so that we can give each other a real sense of being known. There is a solidarity that develops when we are willing to stand as witnesses for the grieving, for the hurting, the dying, the pain-riddled, the crushed. We can be there as monument builders in some very dark moments, witnesses to what God does through the suffering.

There’s great blessing in visiting the bedside of a dying friend or mentor, in holding another in their moments of deepest grief, in looking on injuries and illnesses, in listening to stories that turn your stomach. Because in these moments we can be so cognizant that God is doing something here. This is something real. This is something that has a purpose. This is something that is meant to make us more like Jesus, both the witnesses and the sufferers. I’ve had so many moments like this where I knew at the time that God was changing me through the witnessing, and that He was giving me a glimpse of how He works.

I recall visiting a friend shortly before she passed away. It was a hard visit. Watching her endure on her deathbed wasn’t pleasant, and it troubled me for many months afterward. It still troubles me to think about it today. But I also felt honored to be one of the few people who knew and loved her who was a witness to what she went through. It helps me to know what sweet relief heaven was for her. It helps me to better understand what a contrast death is to the kind of life she is experiencing today. Her faith held through it all, and seeing first hand part of what “it all” was helped me to know and love her more than ever. God used her deathbed to strengthen my faith, even though it was a difficult thing to witness.

Being a witness in this way is a sacred privilege. Think of Jesus’ mother, Mary Magdalene, John, and others at the foot of the cross. They could have gone home and said it was too much, too difficult, too scary. But they stood there instead as witnesses to what He endured, and when He arose a few days later, they were among the first to know and believe it. I wonder how their understanding of what God had done and what Jesus had gone through was enhanced by what they witnessed on the day of His death?

I hope that as Christians we see the value in this honor. We often talk about mourning with those who mourn, but are we really willing to enter true suffering with another? Are we open to learning what God would show us through unpleasant things that most would prefer to avoid looking upon? I’ve done my fair share of avoiding unlovely things. But each and every time I’ve been a witness to someone’s suffering, I left with a better understanding of God and His people.

I’m glad that I have been allowed to be one of my dad’s witnesses. Watching him seek God and honor God in the midst of great suffering has inspired me all of my life, and this experience has been no different. Maybe in some mysterious way that only God understands, as one of Dad’s witnesses, I’m picking up a corner of his mat and helping him carry his burdens. But I know for certain that I am learning anew who he really is in Christ, and I’m remembering how beautifully God weaves His purposes into every moment of struggle that we face in this life. It’s a wonderful thing to witness, even when it’s hard to watch.