Oh, this is so hard. In our culture, not telling our hurts and pains to everyone is unheard of. Is it wrong to let people into our pain? Of course not. It is actually biblical to bear the burdens of other Christians. Many amazing books have been written by believers who endured beatings, persecution, health difficulties, and all kinds of loss for the sake of Christ.
Reading Tortured for Christ stirred something deeper in me—not just awe for those who suffered, but conviction about how we view and speak of our own pain today. I recently wrote a follow-up reflection about suffering, silence, and guarding the testimony of Christ in our age of self-expression. You can read it here: https://journeysofahomemaker.com/2024/02/20/the-book-and-testimony-of-richard-wumberland/
I’ve read many biographies and autobiographies of dear saints who suffered for Jesus. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs is filled with stories of saints who far exceed me in courage, endurance, and devotion.
But no other book has so pierced my heart in the way Tortured for Christ has—especially as I examine the influence of a self-absorbed, comfort-seeking culture on my own soul. I felt very small reading it. My troubles and sufferings seemed petty and insignificant by comparison.
Hebrews 11:38 describes those who suffer and are martyred as those “of whom the world was not worthy.”
We live in the age of sharing… everything. Very little is considered private. It is now seen as honorable to uncover secrets. And in many ways, it is seen as healthy for victims to publicly speak out against those who offended them.
In fact, today it seems as if everyone is a victim of something. And every person hungers for others to feel the pain that he or she carries. The term abuse no longer describes only physical or verbal torment, but now anything that brings offense or emotional pain. And in that sense, all of us have been “abused,” because no one lives without being hurt or wounded by another.
Now, to be very clear, there are true cases of mistreatment and grievous harm. There are real wounds and legitimate sorrows. I do not dismiss those realities. But for those who follow Christ, we must be prudent—in both our perspective and our public outcries.
If we must speak up to defend ourselves or others, we must be ever so careful that our motives are pure—that we are seeking to honor Christ, not ourselves. We must take great care not to harm or humiliate those who have hurt us, especially if they are fellow believers. If the one who hurt us is a brother or sister in Christ, we are called to do everything in our power to seek reconciliation and live in peace (Romans 12:18). If that proves impossible, then we must guard the testimony of Christ and remain silent.
We are not to take a fellow believer to court (1 Corinthians 6), and we certainly do harm to the Church and to the name of Christ when we air our grievances before unbelievers in a spirit of bitterness or retaliation. First, it is not their business. Second, it is no one’s business but the parties involved and the Lord.
But this does not mean we must never speak of our suffering. There is a time and place for testimony—especially when it is shared humbly, for the edification of the Church and the glory of Christ.
Both Richard Wurmbrand and Corrie ten Boom shared their stories publicly. But they did not do so to avenge themselves or destroy the reputations of others. Rather, they spoke to encourage the Body of Christ, to bear witness to the faithfulness of God, and to strengthen the Church in times of comfort and complacency.
The difference lies in the heart posture and the purpose of the telling. We must always examine our motives: Am I seeking Christ’s glory, or my own vindication? Am I helping others see Jesus more clearly, or simply asking them to feel my pain?
There is a Christ-honoring way to share even painful things. But it must always be wrapped in grace, humility, and the cross. And always, it must show respect—even toward those who have wronged us.
I have learned much about God’s sovereignty over the years. And there is such joy and comfort in knowing that every person and every circumstance in my life was hand-curated—before I was even born—by my loving Creator-Father. If He has allowed pain to come to me through others, I must receive it as a gift from His hand, meant for His good purpose.
That perspective reshapes my heart. It quiets bitterness. It calms the cry for justice. It even gives me compassion for those who hurt me. Because through it all, I can say: “My Father gave this to me. And I will trust Him.”
As we examine our own hearts and consider the wrongs done to us, we do well to see those wrongs in light of the cross. If they are truly wrongs, then they are wrongs ultimately done to Christ. And many of them are meant to be borne in silence and grace. This is the opposite of our culture, which insists on public vindication and justice.
We must remember: when we proclaim injustices done to us, we may only damage the testimony of Christ in us. It may serve no purpose but to elevate our personal image, rather than the image of our Savior.
Like John the Baptist said, “He must increase, and I must decrease” (John 3:30).
Oh, how our world cries for justice! We long to prevent those before or after us from suffering what we’ve suffered. But if any injustice is to be proclaimed in my life, let it be the injustice done to Him—as He bore my sin upon the cross.
Any pain we endure today pales in comparison to the tortures and losses our brothers and sisters have suffered through the ages. Richard Wurmbrand was an advocate for the suffering Church. In his book, he shares account after account of men and women who gave their all for Christ.
They were not fighting against communism—they were fighting for Christ. And because communism is diametrically opposed to the truth that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, the communists sought to eliminate every believer. Christianity and communism cannot coexist.
Wurmbrand did at times detail his own suffering, and he did name a few of those who harmed him—as did Corrie ten Boom. But even as they recounted their pain, it was never to glorify themselves or shame their enemies—it was to glorify Christ.
If we must publicly speak of our pain, troubles, and those who have aided our brokenness, lest Let us, too, make it our aim to glorify Christ alone in both our suffering and our silence.