There are some seasons of life when the road beneath our feet feels covered with stones. I am in one of those seasons right now.

Some are small enough to step over. Others stop us in our tracks.

A diagnosis we never expected.

The death of someone we thought would always be there.

A marriage struggling to survive.

A child walking through something we cannot fix.

A dream that suddenly collapses.

A betrayal that leaves us questioning everything.

A prayer that seems to remain unanswered.

There are moments when we look toward heaven and ask, “Lord, why does this have to be part of my story?”

Recently, my friend Bethany Pedigo reminded me of a story that has stayed with me all day.

I had gone to pray with Bethany before her surgery this morning. Those moments before a procedure often have a way of stripping life down to what really matters. The schedules, the distractions, and the ordinary concerns of the day fade into the background. What matters is faith, family, prayer, peace, and the assurance that God is near.

As we talked about my dissertation focus and prayed, Bethany told me about an old Christian allegory involving the stones we carry through life.

We started talking about those stones.

Every one of us has them.

Some have names.

Some have dates.

Some are connected to hospital rooms, gravesides, disappointments, losses, failures, fears, or seasons we never expected to walk through.

And standing there with Bethany before her surgery, I was reminded that we rarely understand the purpose of those stones while we are carrying them.

The story she shared is sometimes called “The Two Guides.” It is not a biblical story, but its imagery beautifully illustrates a truth found throughout Scripture: God has the ability to transform what wounded us into something that carries eternal significance.

In the story, a woman dies and finds herself beginning her journey toward the heavenly kingdom.

She is accompanied by two guides.

One is radiant and joyful, representing peace, mercy, and comfort. The other is dark, quiet, and veiled.

The second guide introduces herself simply as Suffering.

As they begin climbing a difficult path, Suffering gives the woman a strange instruction.

“Pick up the stones.”

The path is covered with rough, jagged rocks, and one by one the woman is told to gather them.

She does not understand.

She has already suffered. She has already carried burdens during her earthly life. She has already experienced loss, disappointment, pain, sickness, grief, and heartbreak.

Why should she carry these stones too?

But Suffering continues encouraging her to gather them.

So, she does.

Stone after stone.

The weight becomes exhausting.

Some stones remind her of heartbreak.

Others represent disappointment.

Some represent prayers that were answered differently than she hoped.

Others represent people she lost.

There are stones representing sleepless nights, hospital rooms, betrayals, fears, failures, loneliness, and seasons when God seemed painfully silent.

By the time she reaches the gates of heaven, she is exhausted from carrying them.

Then everything changes.

A brilliant light shines upon the stones.

Suddenly the rough rocks are no longer rocks.

They become jewels.

Diamonds.

Rubies.

Sapphires.

Precious stones reflecting the light of heaven.

The very things she had struggled to carry become the material used to adorn a beautiful crown.

And suddenly she understands.

The stones were never meaningless.

God Does Not Waste the Stones

There are things we carry in this life that we may never completely understand on this side of eternity.

Romans 8:28 does not say everything that happens to us is good.

It says:

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.”
Romans 8:28, NIV

There is a tremendous difference.

God does not call cancer good.

He does not call betrayal good.

He does not call abuse good.

He does not call death good.

He does not call tragedy good.

But God can step into the middle of what is broken and begin accomplishing something redemptive.

He can bring purpose from pain.

Compassion from suffering.

Wisdom from failure.

Strength from weakness.

Ministry from wounds.

Hope from grief.

What looked like a stone can become a jewel in the hands of God.

That conversation with Bethany before surgery reminded me that we all carry different stones.

For one person, the stone may be illness.

For another, it may be grief.

For another, disappointment.

For another, fear.

For another, a season of waiting.

We may never choose those stones, but we can choose what we do with them.

We can allow them to make us bitter, or we can place them into the hands of God and trust Him to redeem what we cannot understand.

Your Present Pain Is Not the Final Chapter

Paul understood suffering.

He experienced beatings, imprisonment, rejection, persecution, shipwrecks, hunger, danger, and physical hardship.

Yet he wrote:

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
2 Corinthians 4:17, NIV

Paul was not minimizing pain.

His suffering was very real.

He was comparing the duration of suffering with the permanence of eternity.

Our pain has an expiration date.

God’s glory does not.

There are moments when a stone feels enormous because we are viewing it from inside the moment. I know that feeling personally because I have been carrying a stone in my own life that, at times, feels less like something I am holding and more like a millstone hanging around my neck. It has felt heavy, persistent, and difficult to escape. And maybe that is part of why this story Bethany shared with me resonated so deeply. I am not writing about stones from a distance. I am carrying one too.

But eternity changes perspective.

Someday we may understand things we cannot possibly understand today.

The unanswered questions.

The unexplained losses.

The closed doors.

The unexpected detours.

The tears nobody else saw.

The prayers whispered when we barely had enough strength to speak.

God saw every one.

Psalm 56:8 says:

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.”
Psalm 56:8, NLT

Not one tear has escaped His attention.

Some Jewels Are Formed Through Pressure

Diamonds do not look like diamonds during the process that forms them.

They are created under extraordinary pressure.

In much the same way, there are qualities God develops within us through difficult seasons that comfort alone could never produce.

James writes:

“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.”
James 1:2-3, NIV

Notice that Scripture does not tell us to rejoice because something painful happened.

We can rejoice because pain does not have the final word.

God is still working.

The pressure may be producing perseverance.

The disappointment may be deepening faith.

The loss may be creating compassion.

The wilderness may be teaching dependence.

The waiting may be strengthening trust.

The leader or boss who let you down may be teaching you to separate human failure from God’s faithfulness, reminding you that people can disappoint you without changing who God is or what He has called you to do.

The breaking may be preparing us to help someone else survive their breaking.

Sometimes your greatest ministry will eventually come from the place where you once asked God, “Why?”

Scars Can Become Testimonies

Jesus rose from the grave completely victorious, yet His resurrected body still carried scars.

Thomas was invited to see them.

That fascinates me.

Jesus defeated death, but the evidence of what He had endured remained visible.

The scars were no longer symbols of defeat.

They became evidence of victory.

The enemy wants you to look at your scars and remember only what or who hurt you.

God can teach you to look at those same scars and remember Who carried you.

You survived.

God sustained you.

Grace held you.

Mercy found you.

Strength appeared when you thought you had none left.

The scar says, “Something wounded me.”

But it also says, “The wound did not destroy me.”

That stone is becoming a jewel.

There Is a Crown Beyond the Struggle

Scripture repeatedly uses the imagery of crowns when describing eternal reward.

James 1:12 says:

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life.”
James 1:12, NIV

Peter writes about receiving “the crown of glory that will never fade away” (1 Peter 5:4).

Paul spoke of “the crown of righteousness” awaiting those who long for Christ’s appearing (2 Timothy 4:8).

We should be careful not to turn suffering into a mathematical formula where every tragedy automatically earns a particular heavenly jewel. Scripture does not teach that.

But Scripture does teach something even greater.

Faithfulness matters.

Perseverance matters.

Trust matters.

How we walk with God through suffering matters.

And there is an eternal glory awaiting God’s people that makes even the darkest chapters of our earthly journey temporary.

But Bethany and I talked about something else that morning.

We talked about what happens to crowns in heaven.

What Could Make You Throw Down Your Crown?

Revelation gives us one of the most remarkable pictures of worship anywhere in Scripture.

John sees twenty-four elders surrounding the throne of God. They are dressed in white and wearing golden crowns.

Then something happens.

“The twenty-four elders fall down before him who sits on the throne and worship him who lives for ever and ever. They lay their crowns before the throne.”
Revelation 4:10, NIV

Think about that.

They have crowns.

They have been given something valuable, honorable, and glorious.

And then they throw them down.

Why?

The next verse tells us:

“You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power.”
Revelation 4:11, NIV

When Bethany and I talked about this passage, the question that struck me was simple:

What would cause someone to throw down a crown?

What could be so magnificent that something you once treasured suddenly seemed worth surrendering?

The answer is Jesus.

When they see the One sitting on the throne, the crown is no longer the center of attention.

The reward is no longer the greatest treasure.

The One who gave it is.

Maybe that is the ultimate destination of every stone, every jewel, and every crown.

The stones become jewels.

The jewels become a crown.

And then the crown becomes worship.

What if the things God redeems from our suffering ultimately become part of the praise we lay at His feet?

What if one day we stand before Jesus and realize that He was present in every valley, faithful through every loss, near in every hospital room, strong when we were weak, and working even when we could not see Him?

Perhaps then the question will no longer be, “Why did I have to carry this?”

Perhaps all we will be able to say is, “You were worthy through all of it.”

The crown may represent perseverance, faithfulness, endurance, or reward, but even the crown cannot compare with Christ.

The elders do not cling to their crowns.

They cast them before the throne.

It is as if heaven itself declares:

“Whatever I have, You gave me.”

“Whatever I became, Your grace made possible.”

“Whatever I endured, You carried me through.”

“Whatever reward I received, the glory still belongs to You.”

That changes the way I think about suffering.

The goal is not simply to endure enough stones so we can someday wear an impressive crown.

The goal is Jesus.

The crown is not ultimately about us.

The crown gives us something to lay at His feet.

Do Not Throw Away the Stone

Maybe today you are carrying something you wish God would simply remove.

Keep praying.

Keep believing.

Keep seeking healing.

Keep asking God for intervention.

Christian faith does not require pretending something does not hurt.

Jesus Himself prayed in Gethsemane:

“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.”
Matthew 26:39, NIV

Jesus acknowledged the weight of the cup.

But He also trusted the Father.

There are times when God removes the stone.

There are other times when He gives us strength to carry it.

And sometimes the miracle is not that the burden disappeared.

The miracle is that somehow we kept walking.

One day you may look back and realize that the season you desperately wanted to escape became the place where you encountered God most deeply.

You discovered His faithfulness there.

You learned to pray there.

You learned compassion there.

You learned perseverance there.

You discovered who would stand beside you there.

You discovered that God’s presence was stronger than your circumstances there.

What felt like nothing but suffering became sacred ground.

The Light Will Reveal What You Cannot See Yet

Imagine that woman standing at heaven’s gate.

For the entire journey she saw stones.

Then the light hit them.

And suddenly she saw jewels.

Maybe that is where you are today.

You see the stone.

God sees what He can redeem from it.

You see the pressure.

God sees perseverance forming.

You see the scar.

God sees a testimony developing.

You see the tears.

God sees compassion growing.

You see the waiting.

God sees trust deepening.

You see the loss.

God sees an eternal reunion coming.

You see the grave.

God sees resurrection.

Revelation 21:4 gives us one of the most beautiful promises in all of Scripture:

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.”
Revelation 21:4, NIV

There is coming a day when suffering will no longer walk beside us.

Grief will no longer visit us.

Hospitals will be unnecessary.

Funeral homes will close forever.

There will be no cancer.

No dementia.

No addiction.

No broken bodies.

No broken relationships.

No graves.

No goodbye.

The stones will be gone.

And perhaps in the light of eternity, we will finally understand that God was doing far more with our suffering than we could see while we were carrying it.

I am grateful Bethany shared that story with me before her surgery because I have continued thinking about those stones of life ever since.

But I have also kept thinking about those crowns.

Maybe the most beautiful part of the story is not simply imagining the stones becoming jewels.

Maybe it is imagining what happens afterward.

The stones become jewels.

The jewels become a crown.

And when we finally see Jesus face to face, the crown goes right back to Him.

Because we will know where the strength came from.

We will know who sustained us.

We will know who carried us through the valley.

We will know who heard every prayer.

We will know who caught every tear.

We will know who redeemed every painful chapter.

And when we see Him, perhaps no crown will seem too valuable to surrender.

We all have stones.

Some are stones we are carrying right now.

Others are stones we carried years ago but can still remember the weight of.

And perhaps there are stones ahead of us we know nothing about yet.

But this much I know.

We will never carry them alone.

The same God who walked with us through yesterday’s valley will walk with us through tomorrow’s.

The same God who strengthened us before will strengthen us again.

The same God who redeemed yesterday’s pain can redeem today’s.

So, keep walking.

Keep trusting.

Keep believing.

Do not judge the entire story by the chapter you are living today.

The stone in your hand is not the end of the story.

God is still writing.

God is still redeeming.

God is still restoring.

God is still working.

And one day, in the light of His presence, you may discover that what once felt unbearably heavy became part of something unimaginably beautiful.

The stone is not the final form.

The stone can become a jewel.

The jewel can become a crown.

And the crown can become worship.

The light is coming.

And God will not waste your pain.

Prayer:

Father, thank You that nothing I place into Your hands is ever wasted. There are stones I have carried that I still do not understand. There are prayers that were answered differently than I hoped, losses I would never have chosen, wounds that still ache, and questions that remain unanswered. Yet today I choose to trust You.

Help me remember that what I see right now is not the finished story. When I see only the weight of the stone, give me faith to believe that You are still working. When the road becomes steep, give me strength to keep walking. When grief overwhelms me, surround me with Your presence. When disappointment causes me to question Your plan, remind me of Your faithfulness.

Lord, redeem every painful place in my life. Transform my wounds into compassion, my struggles into wisdom, my tears into testimony, and my trials into opportunities to know You more deeply. Give me an eternal perspective so that I do not allow temporary suffering to convince me that You have abandoned me.

And Lord, if the stones of this life become jewels, and the jewels someday become a crown, remind me even now that the crown belongs at Your feet. Everything good in me comes from You. Every time I persevered, Your grace sustained me. Every valley I survived, You walked with me. Every battle I overcame, Your strength carried me.

Thank You for the picture in Revelation of the elders laying their crowns before Your throne. Give me that same heart of worship. May I never become more fascinated with the reward than with the One who gives it. May Jesus always be my greatest treasure.

Thank You for the promise that a day is coming when You will wipe every tear from our eyes. Thank You that death does not have the final word, grief does not have the final word, suffering does not have the final word, and the grave does not have the final word. Jesus does.

Until that day, help me carry what I must carry with faith. Help me release what You are asking me to release. Help me trust when I cannot understand. And when I look at the stones scattered throughout my journey, remind me that Your light can reveal beauty where I once saw only brokenness.

I believe You are still writing my story. I believe You are still redeeming what hurt me. I believe You are still working all things together for good. And I believe that one day, when I see You face to face, the greatest joy will not be the crown I receive but the privilege of laying everything at Your feet and declaring that You alone are worthy.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.