Life is tough.. but could that be a good thing?
- Kate Brooks
- Jun 18
- 2 min read
On my way to work this morning, I found myself in conversation with God. I wasn’t frustrated or angry—just genuinely curious. “Lord, if You’re in control of everything, why does it feel like You keep sending me one challenge after another?”
It wasn’t a complaint—more of a heart-level wondering.
What I love about God is how He responds to us right where we are. Not always with lightning bolts or dramatic signs, but in the quiet nudges that show He’s listening.
A little later, I was on YouTube, searching for something completely unrelated, when a video popped up that had nothing to do with my search. For some reason, I clicked on it. The video was by Fr. Columba Jordan CFR, titled “How to Stop Complaining” (link below).
I had it playing in the background while I got on with work. But then a particular line stopped me in my tracks. Fr. Columba shared a story about St. Bernard of Clairvaux, who once said that if there wasn’t a difficult brother in his monastery, he’d go to another monastery and beg them to give him the grace of a difficult brother to bring back with him.
That hit me.
Maybe these challenges I keep facing aren’t obstacles to my growth, but gifts for it. Maybe they’re the “difficult brothers” I didn’t ask for but desperately need—because they shape me into the person God wants me to become.
Maybe what I really need is to thank God—for the challenges, the obstacles, even the annoyances—and ask Him how each one might be drawing me closer to Him and His will.
The struggles haven’t disappeared, but something has changed. My perspective. I feel a renewed sense of purpose. It’s still hard, but now I know it’s not without meaning. There’s grace in the grit.
Fr Columba mentions St. Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:7–9, when he speaks about the “thorn in his flesh”—a burden he begged God to take away. But the Lord replied, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Paul came to understand that this thorn was not a punishment, but a pathway to deeper dependence on God.
So here's a question to ponder:
What if the very thing you’re asking God to remove is the thing He’s using to bring you closer to Him? How can you respond to that call?




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