Estimated reading time: 6 minutes
What These Words Mean
You can be doing everything “right” and still feel like life is pressing in from all sides, quietly, stubbornly, in ways you did not schedule for. These words start there, in that familiar place where you are trying to carry your day and the day is heavy back.
When the quote says “Everybody in this life has their challenges,” it is pointing to something plain: no one is exempt. In the most ordinary sense, it is a reminder that every person you pass has something going on, whether you see it or not. Underneath that, it takes aim at the isolating thought that you are uniquely failing. It offers a kind of companionship, not by solving your problem, but by placing your struggle inside the human crowd where it belongs.
Then it adds “and difficulties,” widening the frame. Challenges can sound like something you rise to, something that might even sharpen you. Difficulties are the parts that feel stuck and awkward, the parts that do not respond to effort the way you want them to. Paired together, these words make room for both kinds of hard: the hard that motivates you and the hard that simply wears you down. You are not asked to rename it as growth when it still hurts.
Next comes “That is part of our mortal test.” On the surface, it is a claim about the nature of life: being human includes being tried. Not a pop quiz you can cram for, but an ongoing proving ground where patience, integrity, faith, and endurance get practiced in real time. The phrase “mortal test” can land like a steadying hand because it suggests there is meaning in the pressure, and that the pressure is not random punishment. It tells you that difficulty is not evidence you are off the path; it may be the path.
The quote turns on a simple hinge: it moves from “and” in hardships to “Peace comes through” and lands on “through hope.” That pivot matters because it does not say peace comes through getting your way, or through everything finally being easy. It points you toward an inner route.
“Peace comes through hope” sounds gentle, but it is also specific. Peace is not described as a reward for perfect outcomes; it is described as something that can arrive while you are still waiting. Hope, here, is not loud optimism. It is the choice to keep a window open in your mind, to keep believing there is a next page even when the current one is messy. You might be sitting at your kitchen table answering one more email, the room lit by a soft, late-afternoon glow, and the hope is as small as thinking, “I can take one honest step, and tomorrow can hold something better.” I think that kind of hope is braver than confidence.
A common misread is to hear “hope” and assume you have to feel cheerful. You do not. Hope can look like showing up with a tired heart anyway, like refusing to let your worst moment appoint itself as your whole story. It can be quiet, even shaky, and still do its work.
Still, there are moments when hope does not feel like a doorway to peace; it can feel like you are reaching for something that keeps slipping. Sometimes the words do not land immediately, and that can make you feel more alone for a minute. Even then, the quote is offering a direction: if peace is what you want, start by protecting hope, however small, because that is where peace can enter.
Behind These Words
James E. Faust is widely associated with faith-centered teaching that tries to be realistic about suffering while still insisting that life can be spiritually meaningful. This quote fits that tradition: it does not pretend that pain is rare, and it does not treat hardship as a surprising interruption. It frames difficulty as something woven into ordinary human life, which can be comforting in communities where people are encouraged to endure without losing their tenderness.
The phrase “mortal test” reflects a religious way of speaking about life as a proving ground, a season in which character is shaped and choices matter. In that kind of worldview, trials are not only obstacles; they are also conditions in which hope, patience, and compassion become more than abstract virtues. The emphasis on “peace” also matches a pastoral concern: not just getting through trouble, but finding steadiness of heart while trouble exists.
These words are often repeated in settings where people gather to be strengthened, such as sermons, talks, and personal encouragement. As with many frequently shared sayings, the exact original occasion may not always be included when the quote is passed along, but the message remains consistent: you are not singled out by hardship, and you are not left without an inner resource to meet it.
About James E. Faust
James E. Faust, a religious leader and public teacher, is known for offering counsel meant to steady people through suffering without denying it. His voice is often remembered for blending directness with gentleness, naming hard realities while still pointing toward spiritual reassurance. He speaks in a way that assumes you are carrying something, and that you might need language that helps you keep going without pretending you are fine.
A repeating thread in his perspective is that life is not designed to be free of struggle, and that the human experience includes being tested by disappointment, confusion, and delay. In that frame, the purpose is not to avoid every difficulty, but to meet difficulty with something inside you that does not collapse.
That is why his focus on hope matters. He treats hope less like a mood and more like a practice, something you can choose and protect. When you read this quote through that lens, it becomes a small map: hardship is shared, the testing is part of being human, and peace is not reserved for the day everything is solved. It can begin when you let hope stay alive.
