Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read Matthew 16:21–27

When my husband Khalid and I first talked seriously about starting a family, it was not under ideal circumstances. In our first year of marriage, Khalid was diagnosed with a chronic illness—one doctors said could become more painful and debilitating over time. The decision to try for a child came sooner than we expected, but faced with his diagnosis, we chose to go all in.

In that dark season, when it would have been easy to sink into sadness and fear, the thought of a child gave us a glimmer of hope. We became giddy with the idea of new life and a new chapter together. 

Two months trying to conceive quickly turned into three, then four, then eight, then over a year. At first, doctors blamed stress—my worry over Khalid’s health. Friends offered suggestions: teas, acupuncture, supplements, even funny anecdotes about how they got pregnant. 

Specialists came next: blood tests, ultrasounds, invasive procedures, hard conversations, and zero answers. There was nothing we could point to and say, “There, that right there is the reason!” No clear solution emerged. 

Just years of negative pregnancy tests.

Somewhere in those long, hard days, I stopped being giddy and hopeful.

My prayer time soon became a part of my day that I dreaded—the bargaining and pleading, feelings of betrayal and abandonment overwhelmed me, keeping me guarded and angry. In my weariness, instead of allowing prayer to be my refuge where I surrendered all of my pain to the Lord, I let the pain take over and take control, defining who I was and who I believed God to be.

The Story We Never Would Have Chosen
There are moments when the life unfolding before us looks so different from the life we expected that something inside us begins to protest: No, Lord, not this! This cannot be what You have planned!

In this weekend’s gospel, we are confronted with Peter’s own moment of protest. Jesus tells His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem, suffer greatly, be killed, and on the third day be raised (Matthew 16:21). Peter’s response to this is immediate: “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you” (Matthew 16:22).

Oh, how I relate to Peter. Peter doesn’t reject Jesus here. He rejects the story Jesus is telling him. And, if we are honest, don’t we do the same at times?

We love Jesus. We trust Him. We believe He is good. But then, life hands us a cross—one we never expected, certainly never would have chosen—and suddenly, like Peter, we protest. Surely not this, Lord. Not my marriage. Not my health. Not my future; not after everything I’ve already carried.

We want to follow Jesus. We just don’t want to follow Him there.

Letting the Cross Define God
We may never say the words aloud, but sometimes the prayer beneath all our other prayers is Peter’s: no such thing shall ever happen. When we struggle to accept God’s will in the face of suffering and decide for ourselves what His faithfulness ought to look like in our lives, we let our circumstances interpret God for us. Our trust in an all-good and merciful God begins to erode.

If God loved me, He wouldn’t allow this.
If I were good enough, this wouldn’t be happening.
If God were really faithful, my life wouldn’t look like this. 

Jesus, however, calls out these lies. “You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do” (Matthew 16:23). He redirects us to take our thoughts captive to Him (2 Corinthians 10:5) and to stop interpreting God’s goodness through the lens of our suffering. Rather, we are to measure our circumstances against what we already know to be true about God.

The truth is: God is good. He is trustworthy. God is always present with us, and loves us deeply. These truths remain steadfast even when our lives and emotions tempt us to believe otherwise.

Peter’s protesting caused him to miss a profound teaching. Jesus spoke about His suffering and death, but also that He would be raised. Peter could see the cross ahead of our Lord, but he was unable to see beyond it. Suffering can do the same to us, clouding our sight. Our crosses can fill our view so completely that we forget they will never get the final word.

Following Him There
Jesus never asks us to pretend the cross doesn’t hurt, isn’t heavy, or that we won’t fall under its weight. He doesn’t ask us to call suffering good when it feels anything but, or to stop asking Him for healing, restoration, or relief. Jesus Himself prayed, in Gethsemane, for the cup to pass (Matthew 26:39). 

He does ask us to follow Him. “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me” (Matthew 16:24). What comfort can be found in those last two words: “follow me.” Jesus doesn’t hand us a cross and leave us alone to find our own way. He has walked the way of the cross before us, and He remains with us as we follow His path.

Our journey through infertility was long and challenging. Praise God, it led us to the grace-filled moment we had earnestly prayed for. Reflecting back, I can see with unclouded eyes that the long-awaited positive sign wasn’t proof that God had finally shown up, forgiven me for past sins, or decided I was good enough. He was with me through it all—weeping with me, loving me in every moment, through every test and every heartache, embracing me when I pushed Him away, and ultimately rejoicing with me. 

I acknowledge that not every prayer receives the answer that mine did. Some crosses remain. There is sorrow that cannot be undone on this side of heaven. However, the promise of the gospel still stands: the cross is not the end.

Maybe there is a place in your life today where your heart is protesting and crying out to Jesus: Not this! Anything but this, Lord! My friend, bring that ache to Him. Don’t hide or bury it. Don’t be afraid to keep asking Him, again and again, to take this cup from you. And then, take heart and ask for one more grace—the grace to trust that even if your path does not change, the goodness of the One who walks it with you will never waver. 

In the midst of hope,
Jeannine

Food for thought or journaling …

Where in your life are you allowing your circumstances, emotions, or suffering to define your understanding of God’s love or faithfulness? What truth about God do you need to remember today?

Lord Jesus, You see every ache and protest in my heart. Help me to trust You when my cross is heavy and my path unclear. Give me the grace to follow You and to feel Your presence with me always. Amen.

P.S. Our Lord never promised us our lives would be without suffering and pain. Yet, He does promise that in Him we will find lasting peace. “In this world, you will have trouble, but take courage, I have conquered the world” (John 16:33). Explore this spiritual truth more deeply with our Bible study, Opening Your Heart, specifically Lesson 15, “What is the Role of Suffering in My Life?”

Note: The cross of infertility is heavy, and you were never meant to carry it alone. Find Catholic resources, prayerful support, community, and hope at The Fruitful Hollow.