09/28/2025
September 2025 – 4th Monday
Rev. Debra D. Baynes
The Gift of Transparency in Trials
As we close out the ninth month of this year, I feel led to speak on a topic that rarely finds its way into Christian conversation: transparency in the midst of trials.
Let me be clear—I’m not claiming authority on this subject, nor do I understand suffering any better than the next believer. But I’ve noticed something. In our churches, our studies, our circles of faith, we often skip over the raw, unfiltered reality of what it means to walk through hardship while holding onto hope.
Lately, I’ve become more attuned to this absence. Several people I’m connected to—spiritually, personally, vocationally—have found themselves in the fiery furnace of life. Not excluding myself. From GERD to terminal cancer diagnoses, affliction seems to be running rampant among God’s people, shaking families and testing faith.
And yet, we don’t talk about it.
We don’t talk about the tears behind the “hallelujahs,” the questions behind the “thank you, Jesuses.” We don’t talk about the days when faith feels fragile, or the nights when silence from heaven feels deafening. We don’t talk about the suffering—not because we’re ashamed, but because we’ve been conditioned to believe that transparency equals weakness.
Perhaps we don’t talk about the tears, the questions, the suffering, or the fear because, when we do, the response often comes in the form of a well-worn cliché: “God doesn’t put more on us than we can bear.” “God doesn’t make mistakes.” “Have faith over fear.” These phrases, while rooted in truth, can sometimes feel like spiritual shortcuts—ways to bypass the real, raw emotions that trials stir up. Many times, people seem willing to talk about everything but how the trial makes us feel, as though bottling up our emotions somehow protects us from having to face them. But silence doesn’t heal. And suppression doesn’t sanctify.
But I believe transparency is strength. It’s presence. It’s honesty. It’s saying, “I’m in the trial, and here’s how I feel.” That’s not a lack of faith—it’s the kind that endures.
James 1:2–4 has been echoing in my spirit for weeks:
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
This passage doesn’t ask us to pretend. It invites us to persevere. And perseverance requires presence. It requires transparency.
So, this isn’t a judgment. It’s not an indictment. It’s an invitation—to be honest, to be present, and to be real with one another. Because Christians do suffer. And every day isn’t filled with praise. But maybe it should be—because even in the furnace, God is with us.
Let’s talk about it.
Considering it joy doesn’t mean we walk around pretending to be happy in the midst of our trials. No, it means we draw strength from the truth that God is with us in the trial, and that His presence causes our hearts to rejoice. Joy isn’t a mask; it’s a posture, a choice. It’s the quiet confidence that even here, even now, we are not alone
The testing of our faith isn’t about proving we possess it. Rather, it’s about refining us so that God can entrust us with the weight of this trial, and prepare us for the next. Trials are not punishments; they are assignments. Each one is divinely permitted to cultivate something eternal within us: a deeper character, a more fervent prayer life, a holy determination to believe God’s promises, and a testimony forged in fire that will strengthen someone else’s walk.
When we emerge, we won’t just be survivors—we’ll be stewards of sacred wisdom, carriers of comfort, and witnesses to the sustaining power of God. Because what we gain in the furnace isn’t merely endurance—it’s evidence of His presence. Every trial is a divine invitation to transformation, shaping us into the likeness of Christ. And when He returns for His Bride, we will not stand on the fringes—we will be intricately woven into Her perfection, purified by fire, prepared by grace, and made radiant by the One who walked with us through it all.
So let us no longer be afraid of transparency in our trials—whether we are the ones sharing or the ones listening. When we persevere in faith and hope, perseverance produces the gift of mature perfection, shaping us into vessels fit for the Kingdom. What a gift! Not just survival, but full sanctification. Not just endurance, but eternal purpose.
Blessings
Rev. Debra D. Baynes-NTGAInc
