But their pain is worse than mine...
Have you ever felt that? Like what you’re walking through doesn’t really count because someone else’s mountain looks taller?
Your marriage is in a hard place, but your friend just got diagnosed with cancer.
You’re anxious over a lost job, but your neighbor just buried a loved one.
You’re tired, lonely, discouraged… but you look around and think, “Who am I to be struggling?”
We’ve all been there—ranking our pain and quietly deciding our struggles don’t matter because someone else’s seem bigger.
But what if pain isn’t meant to be measured? What if it’s meant to be carried together?
There’s nothing wrong with recognizing when someone’s load is heavy. But that doesn’t mean you have to pretend yours isn’t. We don’t need to rate suffering on a scale—we’re invited to sit with one another in it.
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” —Romans 12:15
It’s not about fixing. It’s not about comparing. It’s about showing up.
I recently heard a pastor say that people always ask him, “What do I say when someone is suffering? Why does God allow this?”
And he said something I’ll never forget:
“I don’t always know why. But I do know how to sit with someone. I can hug them. I can pray with them. I can be with them at the feet of Jesus.”
That’s the beauty of the family of Christ. We don’t have to understand the whole plan—we just get to be part of each other’s healing.
Our dear friend, who’s walking through cancer, checks in on us all the time. It almost feels backwards. Shouldn’t we be checking on him? But that’s what makes the body of Christ so beautiful—his diagnosis doesn’t disqualify him from caring, and our struggles aren’t too small to matter.
He wants to walk with us. And we get to walk with him.
So if you’re tempted to shrink back because your pain feels “lesser,” don’t.
Bring your burden. Share your heart. Sit with a friend. Cry together. Pray together. Be present.
Because no pain is too small in the Kingdom.
And no love is ever wasted.
Let’s be the kind of people who stop comparing struggles—and start carrying them.
Together.