The Cross Isn’t the End of the Story

Holding Onto Hope in Grief

Introduction: Naming the Pain

Hebrews 12:2 has always been a source of comfort and strength for my wife and I: “Looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross…” Over the years, this verse has shaped how we view suffering, helping us frame it in the light of hope. Jesus endured the unimaginable agony of the Cross because of the joy He saw ahead of Him—the salvation of every soul He came to redeem. Each one of us was a joy He gazed upon as He carried His Cross to Calvary.

This truth has sustained us through many seasons of difficulty in our marriage and family life. But recently, we encountered a sorrow that brought this reflection to an entirely new depth. We were expecting a baby girl, Catherine Therese, and after months of holding our breath following prior miscarriages, we finally allowed ourselves to breathe, to hope. Then, in what should have been a routine appointment, we learned her heart had stopped beating. My wife had to give birth to a child we would never see grow up, and our hearts broke in ways we didn’t think possible.

Catherine Therese’s time here was brief, but her life profoundly touched ours. Her memory lives on—in our prayers, in her tiny handprints and footprints, and in the love we carry for her. And yet, in the depths of our grief, we found ourselves wrestling with a profoundly human question: what happens when you endure the Cross, but there is no joy set before you? When suffering brings no visible fruit, only more pain?

This question is both raw and deeply unsettling, shaking the very foundations of faith and compelling us to confront the profound mystery of suffering. Yet, even in this darkness, the Church, Scripture, and our trust in God’s unwavering love provide truths that, while they may not erase the pain, offer strength to sustain us when the path forward seems unclear. This reflection is my heartfelt effort to grapple with that question, to seek meaning in the midst of sorrow, and to honor the memory of Catherine Therese, whose brief but precious life continues to reveal the sacredness of every soul and the enduring hope we have in Christ.

The Mystery of the Cross

The heart of our faith rests on a paradox: that through suffering and death, Christ conquered sin and brought us the possibility of eternal life. The joy that lay before Him wasn’t immediate, at least not in the way we think of the term “immediate.” It certainly wasn’t relief from pain, nor a quick return to comfort. Not for Christ and not for His Mother, His Passion was one suffering to the next. It was the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan; but also a plan that required Christ to embrace the Cross in the face of abandonment, humiliation, and agony.

As Catholics, we are invited to participate in this mystery. Through Baptism, we are joined to Christ’s Death and Resurrection. But sometimes, the resurrection at the other end of our own suffering feels impossibly far away, and we are left standing at the foot of the Cross, unsure if joy will ever come. We can know what Scripture and even our faith teaches, yet in our humanity, still experience the greatest depths of suffering.

St. Thérèse of Lisieux experienced this in her final days. She endured excruciating physical pain and spiritual darkness, confessing that she felt completely abandoned by God. Yet, she clung to trust: Her suffering was difficult to bear in the moment, but she offered it as a gift to God, believing that it would bear fruit she could not yet see.

The same is true of St. John of the Cross, who described the “dark night of the soul.” This profound spiritual suffering, he taught, isn’t a sign of God’s absence but of His transformative work. When we are stripped of all comfort, God draws us closer to Himself, purifying us in ways beyond our understanding.

When Suffering Brings No Visible Fruit

In our human experience, suffering often feels like a transaction: we endure pain for the sake of something good. A mother endures childbirth for the joy of holding her child. An athlete trains through grueling workouts for the prize of victory. A student sacrifices sleep to achieve their degree.

But the truth is, not all suffering in this life will yield visible fruit. But as Catholics, we hold fast to the promise that no suffering is meaningless when united to Christ. St. Paul writes in Colossians 1:24, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.” This doesn’t mean Christ’s sacrifice was insufficient, but that He invites us to share in His redemptive work. Our suffering, when offered to Him, becomes a powerful prayer—a participation in the salvation of souls – even our own.

This doesn’t erase the pain. It doesn’t even necessarily answer the question of “why.” But it gives us a way to endure. We unite our suffering to His, trusting that He will transform it into something beautiful, even if we cannot see it now.

Finding Hope in the “Unseen Joy”

What, then, is the joy set before us when suffering brings no visible fruit?

For my wife and I, the answer lies in eternity. Our child is now in the presence of God. Though we cannot hold her in our arms, we trust that she intercedes for us in heaven. This is a joy we cannot yet fully grasp, but it is a promise we can cling to in faith. As Scripture reminds us, we do not grieve as those without hope” (1 Thes 4:13).

The joy may be unseen, hidden in God’s plan, to be revealed only in eternity. This requires a radical trust, the kind that feels impossible when we are drowning in sorrow. Yet, this is the hope of the Christian life: that even when all seems lost, God is still working for our good (Romans 8:28). This is the Gospel message after all:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good tidings to the afflicted; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted; to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor… to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified” (Isa 61:1-3).

In the midst of grief, small glimpses of joy can sustain us. A kind word from a friend. The embrace of a loved one. The quiet presence of Christ in the Eucharist. These moments remind us that we are not alone and that, even in the darkness, God’s light still shines.

The Role of Community and Sacraments

Grief is a heavy burden, and we are not meant to carry it alone. The Church, in her wisdom, offers us the Sacraments as a source of strength. The Eucharist unites us to Christ’s sacrifice, reminding us that we are never alone in our suffering. Confession offers us a place to pour out our pain and receive God’s mercy. Prayer connects us to the Communion of Saints, who intercede for us in our trials.

We also need the support of community. Whether it’s a faith community, close friends, or a trusted therapist, we heal when we allow others to walk with us. Sharing our grief doesn’t lessen the pain, but it reminds us that we are seen and loved. As Scripture reminds us, good friends are a life saving medicine (Sirach 6:14-17).

Conclusion: A Call to Trust and Faith

No words can fully erase the ache of suffering, and no reflection can answer the question of “why” to our satisfaction. But even in the darkest moments, Christ stands with us. There is no suffering and no temptation we may experience that He Himself did not endure (Heb 4:14-16). Therefore, we can trust Him as the most worthy of companions in the midst of suffering and trial. He invites us to trust that our cross is never the end of the story. Resurrection will come, even if we cannot see it now. The tomb always gives way.

To those who find themselves asking, “What happens when you endure the cross, but there is no joy set before you?” I offer this: Christ Himself walks with us in every trial, carrying us when we can no longer carry ourselves. In fact, we, even in good times, can never really carry ourselves. We are always reliant on Him. No suffering is too heavy, no grief too deep, for His redeeming love. He is our Simon of Cyrene, the one we gaze upon at the other end of the cross we may be carrying. He is the one that bears the weight most of all. In the face of great sorrow, let us fix our eyes on Him, trusting that He is always near, even when joy feels impossibly far. Though we may not see it now, His love transforms our pain, bringing forth hope and life in ways beyond our understanding. Let us hold fast to this truth: the cross is never the end of the story—resurrection will come. We may feel locked away in our tomb but putting our faith and trust in Christ we know that the stone will roll away. Until then, may we remain united to Him, finding strength in His promise, “I will be with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

Here are some Scripture passages to meditate and reflect upon. May you find strength and hope in these words.

Isaiah 43:1-2
"But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.’"

Psalm 34:18-19
"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivers him out of them all."

Psalm 46:1-2
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea."

Lamentations 3:22-24
"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’"

Matthew 11:28-30
"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

John 16:33
"I have said this to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world."

Romans 8:18
"I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us."

2 Corinthians 4:16-18
"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed every day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, because we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal."

Hebrews 4:15-16
"For we have not a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need."

1 Peter 5:10
"And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, establish, and strengthen you."

Revelation 21:3-4
"And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling of God is with men. He will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away.’"