Sharing Everything
READ
Our society teaches us to hide pain, to "stay strong," to manage our struggles privately. We fear being a burden. We worry that vulnerability will make us look weak or unstable. So we smile on Sunday morning while falling apart inside. We say "I'm fine" when we're drowning. But a common life devoted to Jesus requires something different.
Let’s take a moment to read Philippians 3:7-11:
But whatever were gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God on the basis of faith. I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.
REFLECT
When Paul writes about "the fellowship of [Christ's] sufferings," he's describing something most of us would rather avoid. We're drawn to passages about abundant life, victorious faith, and overcoming obstacles. But fellowship in suffering? That sounds depressing.
Yet this is one of the most profound dimensions of the common life. The Greek word koinonia—often translated as fellowship—means genuine partnership, sharing everything in common. And Paul applies it not just to our joys and successes, but to our pain and struggles. When one part of the body hurts, the whole body suffers with it.
The common life of Jesus invites us to share our sufferings—not in a way that's self-absorbed or attention-seeking, but with the same honesty and trust that characterizes all genuine relationships. It means saying, "I'm struggling with anxiety and I need prayer." Or "My marriage is in crisis and I don't know what to do." Or simply, "I'm sad today and I need someone to sit with me."
And here's the other side: it means entering into others' pain. Not as a fix-it expert who swoops in with solutions. Not as someone who minimizes suffering with trite spiritual platitudes. But as a companion who is willing to sit in the darkness with someone, to weep with those who weep, to bear their burden alongside them.
Paul tells the Corinthians that God comforts us in our troubles "so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God." This is the economy of the Kingdom. Our suffering isn't wasted—it becomes a resource for helping others. And when we receive comfort from our brothers and sisters, we're receiving God's comfort through human hands.
Think about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Even He, the Son of God, asked His disciples to stay and watch with Him. He invited them into His anguish. He wanted their presence. And when they fell asleep, He was honest about His disappointment. Jesus modeled what it means to be vulnerable in community, to share suffering rather than bear it alone.
The fellowship of suffering also shapes us. It softens our hearts, teaching us compassion. It builds deeper bonds than shared activities ever could—because there's an intimacy in being seen at your weakest and still being loved. It forces us to depend on God and on each other, stripping away the illusion of self-sufficiency.
This doesn't mean we seek out suffering or stay in abusive situations. It means we stop pretending that the Christian life is always victorious and that faith eliminates pain. It means we create communities where it's safe to not be okay, where tears are welcome, where questions don't threaten faith.
The common life isn't always comfortable. It will break your heart sometimes. You'll walk with people through grief, betrayal, chronic illness, mental health struggles, and losses you can't fix. But this is koinonia—genuine partnership in both joy and sorrow. And mysteriously, it's in these hard places that we often encounter Jesus most powerfully.
RESPOND
Take a moment to process what God might be leading you to do in light of what you read.
Who in your community is currently suffering—physically, emotionally, or spiritually? How might you enter into fellowship with them in their pain without trying to fix or minimize it?
Is there a suffering in your own life that you've been carrying alone? What would it take to share that burden with trusted members of your community?
How has walking through suffering with others (or having others walk with you) deepened your faith or changed your understanding of God's presence?
REST
Take a moment to rest in God’s presence and consider one thing you can take away from your time reading, then close your devotional experience by praying:
Compassionate God, You know what it means to suffer. You entered our pain through Jesus, who wept, agonized, and died. Teach us to be present with others in their suffering without fear or the need to fix everything. Help us to be honest about our own struggles and to receive comfort from others. Use our pain for Your purposes, and help us trust that You're present even in the darkest valleys. Amen.