We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance, character, and hope.
Romans 5: 3-5
“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
We know where we are going; we know where we are from.
Song Exodus, Bob Marley & Wailers (1977)
Every life must eventually answer two questions: Where am I going? and What is this journey making of me? Bob Marley captured the first with remarkable simplicity: ‘We know where we are going; we know where we are from.’ Knowing our destination gives life direction, but it does not spare us from the hardships of the journey. As Fyodor Dostoevsky observed, ‘Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart.’ Yet, from a faith perspective, suffering can be a spiritual opportunity-an invitation for God to refine our character and deepen our trust in Him. The question, then, is not whether we will suffer, but how our suffering can serve as a means of growth and spiritual maturity.
The Apostle Paul answers that question with clarity. ‘Suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope’ (Romans 5:3–4). While we devote enormous energy to pursuing careers, relationships, achievements, and security, the deepest work of life unfolds quietly beneath those pursuits, forging us through every disappointment and delight, every failure and triumph, every season of loss and love. During hardships, spiritual practices like prayer, reflection, and community support can help us hold onto hope. We imagine we are building a life, yet it is the storms of life that act as anvil and hammer, shaping us. The most enduring measure of our lives will not be the destinations we reached or the accomplishments we accumulated, but the heart we allowed God to shape and the character we carried with us. The heart must sometimes break, not to destroy it but to use the strain of trials to increase its capacity to persevere and love. When we have the skills to set the sails of determination, we remain undaunted by life’s gales. Tempests make for master sailors.
“‘Tis the set of the sails,
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.”
— Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Wilcox reminds us of a timeless truth: while we cannot control the winds that buffet our lives, we can determine how we set our sails. Storms are inevitable. Loss, disappointment, failure, betrayal, and sorrow arrive uninvited, testing not only our resolve but the very condition of our hearts. Our greatest freedom lies not in avoiding adversity but in choosing our response to it. Every trial presents an opportunity to drift toward bitterness or to navigate toward wisdom, to become either hardened or more compassionate, either overwhelmed or more resilient. The winds of life may shape our circumstances, but the set of our sails shapes our character.
Space Between Storms
Viktor Frankl famously observed, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” That space is where emotional intelligence is cultivated, and character is formed. It is the moment in which we decide whether our circumstances will shape us for the better or diminish us. Rather than reacting impulsively, we are invited to respond intentionally, allowing our values, not our emotions alone, to guide our actions. The ability to regulate emotions and remain calm while others are losing their heads is not instinctual or reflexive; it comes from active contemplation in a space of peace between storms.
Increasing the Heart’s Spiritual VO₂ Max
Practice of this reflective habit of looking back and planning the development of skills, knowledge and dispositional development to be carried into the next storm can offer the following VO₂ capacities for character/heart:
Endurance athletes often speak about increasing their VO₂ max, the body’s maximum capacity to use oxygen during intense physical exertion. They do not increase this capacity by remaining comfortable. It is developed by repeatedly entering moments of controlled stress, recovering well, and returning stronger than before. The same principle can apply to the development of resilience (higher thresholds of strength/patience/endurance). Every hardship presents an opportunity to enlarge our emotional and spiritual capacity. The question is not whether life will place us under pressure. It is whether we will use that pressure to expand the heart’s capacity for courage, compassion, wisdom, and hope. I offer the following strategy, which I call POEM, to develop spiritual VO₂ between storms and to shape the heart.
Drawing on Viktor Frankl’s insight that growth occurs in the space between stimulus and response, Paul’s theology of character formation in Romans 5, and contemporary research on emotional intelligence, I propose a simple reflective practice that I call P.O.E.M. Like poetry, character is crafted one thoughtful line at a time. Each time we “P“ause, we resist becoming slaves to impulse. Each time we “O“bserve, we deepen our self-awareness. Each time we “E” valuate, we strengthen our moral judgment. Each time we “M“ove intentionally, we reinforce habits that form character. Like endurance training, these responses may feel difficult in the moment. Still, repeated over time, they increase our capacity to remain composed in crisis, compassionate in conflict, and hopeful amid uncertainty. Our emotional VO₂ max grows every time we choose a thoughtful response over an impulsive reaction. For example, if faced with the grief of a relationship ending, POEM can be illustrated in the following manner:
P.O.E.M.: Responding to the End of a Relationship
The end of a meaningful relationship can feel like the loss of a future we had already begun to imagine. Dreams dissolve, routines disappear, and the questions left behind often linger far longer than the relationship itself. Yet even this kind of heartbreak presents an opportunity to shape the heart rather than harden it.
(P) Pause
The relationship ends. Your mind races with regret, anger, confusion, or self-doubt. You feel the urge to send one more message, replay every conversation, seek revenge, numb the pain, or convince yourself that none of it mattered. Instead, you pause. You breathe. You resist the impulse to react. You allow yourself to feel the disappointment without allowing it to dictate your next decision. The pause does not erase the heartbreak; it creates the space needed to respond with wisdom rather than woundedness.
(O) Observe
As the initial emotional storm settles, you turn inward with honesty. You acknowledge what you are feeling: “I am hurt. I am lonely. I am angry. I am grieving what might have been.” Rather than judging these emotions or trying to suppress them, you accept them as part of being human. Then you look deeper. What fears have been awakened? What expectations were shattered? What does this experience reveal about your needs, your patterns, or your understanding of love?
(E) Evaluate
Once the emotions have been acknowledged, you ask deeper questions. What kind of person do I want this experience to help me become? What lessons should I carry into future relationships? What attitudes or behaviours should I leave behind? How can I honour both myself and the other person, even though the relationship has ended? The goal is no longer to understand why the relationship ended but to discern how the experience can deepen your character, enlarge your capacity to love, and prepare you to love more wisely in the future.
(M) Move
Finally, you choose one intentional action that reflects your values rather than your emotions. You forgive where forgiveness is possible (still failing at this myself). You establish healthy boundaries where they are needed. You invest in trusted friendships, prayer, service, or personal growth rather than resentment or self-pity. You choose actions that cultivate healing instead of bitterness. The relationship may be over, but your capacity to love, trust, and hope does not have to end with it.
The heartbreak has not disappeared, and some questions may never be fully answered. Yet your heart has been shaped. You have become more self-aware, more resilient, more compassionate, and wiser than before. The Apostle Paul writes that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. The deepest purpose of heartbreak is not merely to survive it but to allow it to enlarge the heart, preparing us to love again with greater wisdom, courage, and grace.
The loss has not disappeared. The pain has not been erased. But your heart has been shaped. You have become more patient, more empathetic, more courageous, and more capable of loving despite the certainty of future sorrow. The deepest purpose of grief is not merely to survive it, but to allow it to enlarge the heart.
In my own life, the effectiveness of POEM has always been an act of a reflective autopsy of a circumstance. For example, looking back at moments of deep grief, POEM brought forth the following truths hidden in scars and the value that impermanence offers the scarred domains of life: Grief is the tuition we pay for having loved deeply. Whether it leaves us bitter or better depends not on the depth of our sorrow, but on how we choose to respond within it. How deeply we grieve reflects how deeply we loved. While grief has the potential to enlarge the heart, that transformation often comes slowly through honest mourning, reflection, supportive relationships, and the deliberate choices we make in response to loss. The deepest purpose of grief is not merely to survive it, but to allow it to enlarge the heart.
It is important to understand what P.O.E.M. does and what it does not do. It does not promise that the next storm will hurt less or that grief will become easier to bear. Love always carries the possibility of loss, and every relationship is unique. Instead, P.O.E.M. enlarges the heart’s capacity to meet suffering with greater wisdom, emotional steadiness, courage, and hope. The storm may be just as fierce, but the sailor has become more skilled. The waves have not diminished; the capacity to navigate them has increased.
The Sandbox Activities:
Storms reveal the condition of the heart, but calm seasons are where the heart is trained. Just as athletes build endurance before race day, we cultivate emotional and spiritual resilience before life’s next storm arrives.
Daily P.O.E.M.
Set aside five quiet minutes at the end of each day to reflect on one emotionally significant moment.
Pause
- When today did I feel emotionally activated?
- What caused me to pause—or wish I had?
Observe
- What emotions was I experiencing?
- What deeper need, fear, or value lay beneath those emotions?
Evaluate
- What values were being tested?
- Which response best reflected the person I am striving to become?
Move
- If a similar situation arose tomorrow, how would I respond differently?
- What one small action can I take to strengthen my character?
Increasing Your Character’s VO₂ Max
Distance runners increase their VO₂ max—the body’s capacity to sustain effort under physical stress—through intentional training. In much the same way, we can enlarge the heart’s capacity to remain patient, hopeful, compassionate, and steadfast under emotional and spiritual stress.
Complete the following sentences honestly:
- My capacity for patience is currently __________________.
- My capacity for forgiveness is __________________.
- My capacity to tolerate uncertainty is __________________.
- My capacity for hope is __________________.
- My capacity to love difficult people is __________________.
Finally, ask yourself:
Which one of these capacities is God inviting me to strengthen this week, and what deliberate practice will help me develop it?
Every thoughtful response is another training session for the heart. Every storm endured with wisdom increases its capacity. Over time, we discover that the goal is not simply to survive life’s trials, but to become the kind of person whose heart remains open without becoming fragile, resilient without becoming hardened, and hopeful without losing the courage to love.
Do not be discouraged if, during your next storm, you feel as though everything you have learned has disappeared. Feeling overwhelmed or experiencing a sense of failure is a natural part of being human. Growth is rarely linear. Yet with discipline, reflection, and persistence, you will discover that you are navigating this storm differently than you would have before. The habits, awareness, and character you have patiently cultivated have not been lost—they are quietly sustaining you. Every sorrow, every disappointment, and every moment of misery holds the potential to become another stepping stone toward a life marked by greater wisdom, deeper compassion, and enduring hope. As we strengthen our own hearts, we become better equipped to steady others when they encounter storms of their own.
Dedicated to my friend Danielle, whose courage inspired my thinking and deepened my gratitude for life and love.
In love,
Finney
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