I once heard Tim Keller say that when life is particularly difficult and you’re struggling with your emotions or you don’t know how to feel about suffering, one of the most helpful things you can do is to turn to inductive Bible study.[1]
It’s interesting advice because we often feel the need to dissect our sadness, to turn it inside out in an effort to understand it. We believe that if we can just understand it, we could fix it. But life isn’t always so easily fixed. Brokenness is rarely quickly mended. Suffering is often long and draining. It’s not wrong to seek to understand our sorrows, but sometimes what we need is to turn our gaze outward. We need to look to something solid and unchanging. Someone solid and unchanging.

Throughout many seasons of both physical and spiritual distress, I’ve found that regular, ordinary Bible study has been my greatest companion on the road of endurance. When I frantically spin my mental wheels trying to wrap my head around whatever trial has presented itself, the blankness in my heart and mind overwhelms me. Even recently, I sat with my closed Bible in my lap and tried to pray through some major life curveballs. After a couple of days of fruitlessly trying to understand it, I stopped. Instead of sharpening the conversations in my head that I know I’ll never have and instead of staring into space and wondering why this, why now—I finally just opened my Bible to my next chapter of study and worked through the study steps I’ve been using for fifteen years. Read, write, think, pray.
I read the text, usually more than once. I thought about the text, asking questions about the setting and context. I wrote down what I observed about the text, starting with God’s character. I prayed through the text in hopes of applying something I’d learned, which I recommend doing when you don’t know what to pray (and even when you do).
The events in the text (Isaiah 11-14 in recent weeks) were so far removed from my life that I was able to ground myself in what has been timelessly true about God’s character, His redemptive plan, and His promises that find their yes and amen in Jesus. I might have been reading about Israel’s rebellion and forthcoming judgment, the role of the Assyrian armies in carrying out that judgment, and God’s promises to save a remnant and send a Savior, but what was carrying me in my current turmoil was the golden thread of God’s sovereignty in the text. God, the faithful promise keeper. I could see specific promises made in Isaiah kept in Matthew and Acts. Can’t I trust Him to keep the rest of His promises? Can’t I look forward to the day Christ returns and makes things right—every sad thing made untrue?[2] The God of Isaiah is also the God of Romans, and His plans will not be thwarted. “He who did not spare his own Son but gladly gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Rom. 8:32).
The daily act of opening my Bible and digging in wasn’t a distraction from my troubles. It was guidance and hope in them. The Lord gave me peace—not in changed circumstances but in the grounding of my soul in the Word of my God. He never changes. He is always true. He is the source of joy and hope. The ordinary rhythms of study directed my soul when life got really hard really fast.
I’m reminded of Jehoshaphat’s prayer in 2 Chronicles 20:12. “We don’t know what to do but our eyes are on you.” That’s what we’re doing with regular study of God’s Word. When life events leave us confused, overwhelmed, or numb, and we don’t know what to do, we must keep our eyes on Him. Keep reading His Word, thinking through it, studying it, praying it. I’ve been amazed at how even obscure passages have ministered to me in difficult seasons simply for what they showed me about God’s steady, faithful character. It’s been the description of God’s judgment and mercy in Isaiah that’s encouraged me lately, but I can remember living through a particularly difficult bout of chronic pain a few years back and finding great comfort in the drawing of the Promised Land’s boundary lines in the book of Joshua. A God who takes such care in drawing property lines would never overlook my pain. These are not normal texts to turn to in trials, but God is so kind to use His Word right where we are in life. The record-keeping in Scripture reminds me the path of steadfastness is uphill, but many saints have lived long before me and endured much worse, yet the Lord was their faithful guide. As He is mine today.
Regular Bible study might seem habitual, like a box to check on your spiritual to do list each day. But regularly turning to Scripture day after day will carry you when the mundane days turn dark. Keep seeking the Lord in His Word. The cure doesn’t really change. If you teach yourself to default to Scripture when life is normal, you’ll default to Scripture when life is hard. And the Lord will give you what you need to endure.
If you teach yourself to default to Scripture when life is normal, you’ll default to Scripture when life is hard. And the Lord will give you what you need to endure. Share on X
[1] I have looked for a source on this, but I believe it came from a sermon I heard years ago, and I’ve given up hope at this point of locating it. I’m sure Tim Keller worded it better than I have done here.
[2] A nod to the question of Samwise Gamgee in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which admittedly I have not read but I did read The Hobbit and that’s good enough for me.
Photo by Ben White on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and is the mother of two sons. She and her husband serve at Grace Bible Fellowship in Sikeston, Missouri where they have served for over twenty years. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence, Everyday Faithfulness, Memorizing Scripture, and Known & Loved. Connect with her on Instagram and Facebook, or sign up for her monthly newsletter.






