As a medical doctor, I have known the face of adversity. I have

“As a medical doctor, I have known the face of adversity. I have seen much of death and dying, suffering and sorrow. I also remember the plight of students overwhelmed by their studies and of those striving to learn a foreign language. And I recall the fatigue and frustration felt by young parents with children in need.” Thus spoke Russell M. Nelson, a man of healing hands and compassionate heart—a surgeon by profession, a servant by spirit. In these words, he reveals not merely his experience in medicine, but his understanding of the human condition: that adversity wears many faces, and that the struggle for endurance and understanding is the thread that binds all humanity.

The origin of this reflection lies in Nelson’s long journey through the corridors of both science and faith. As a physician, he looked daily upon the frailty of flesh and the resilience of the soul. He witnessed men and women standing at the threshold between life and death, their faces marked by both terror and peace. He saw families cling to hope as surgeons worked beneath the cold light of the operating room. But he also saw suffering in simpler, quieter forms—the exhaustion of students, the despair of failure, the sleeplessness of parents, the humble struggles of those learning to find their way in a world that often feels foreign. From such experiences, Nelson distilled a truth both ancient and eternal: to live is to suffer, but to suffer is to learn compassion.

In the ancient lands of Greece, the philosopher Epictetus, once a slave, taught that pain is the instrument by which the soul is tuned. “Men are disturbed not by things, but by the view they take of them,” he said. Nelson’s words echo this timeless wisdom. For he did not speak of despair to glorify it, but to remind us that within every trial lies a seed of understanding. To see death is to cherish life; to feel exhaustion is to recognize endurance; to know the cries of children is to discover the sacredness of care. The physician’s eyes, trained to diagnose disease, also learned to perceive the silent illnesses of the heart—the weariness, the loneliness, the yearning to be understood.

There is a story told of Florence Nightingale, who in the Crimean War walked among the dying soldiers with a lamp in her hand. She, too, knew the face of adversity—the blood, the cries, the cold, the hopelessness. Yet she said that even in that valley of suffering, there was light: the light of purpose, the light of mercy. Russell M. Nelson stands in that same lineage of healers and comforters who understood that the power to heal is not only in the hand, but in the heart that refuses to turn away from another’s pain.

In his words we hear a call to empathy—to see that no sorrow is too small, no struggle too unworthy of compassion. For the one crushed by study, the one lost in language, the one sleepless beside a crying child—all stand in the same circle of human experience. Adversity is not an enemy, but a teacher. It strips us of pride, tempers us in humility, and strengthens the bond between souls. Nelson’s message is not of despair, but of shared humanity—a reminder that every person carries burdens unseen, and that to understand this is the beginning of wisdom.

The lesson, then, is clear and eternal: be gentle, for all are weary. The doctor’s wisdom teaches that kindness is itself a medicine, that listening can heal as deeply as any operation. When we encounter another’s frustration, let us remember that we, too, have been overwhelmed; when we meet anger, let us see the fatigue behind it; when we meet sorrow, let us offer patience instead of judgment. To live this way is to practice the healing art of the spirit, even if one has never worn a physician’s coat.

In this, Nelson’s teaching transcends time: though we cannot banish suffering, we can redeem it through understanding. We can turn despair into service, exhaustion into tenderness, and pain into purpose. For he who has “known the face of adversity” and yet chooses compassion has found the true cure—not for the body, but for the soul.

So, O listener, remember the doctor’s counsel. When life’s trials rise before you like unscalable mountains, do not curse the path. Walk it with courage. See in every struggle the reflection of another’s, and in every sorrow the chance to love more deeply. Then, as Russell M. Nelson teaches, the very presence of death, fatigue, and despair shall become not your enemy, but your silent ally—leading you, by degrees, toward the light of peace and the mastery of your own heart.