The most recommended books about suffering

I’ve rarely read a book that explores the pain of the white working class better.  If you’ve ever wondered about the lives of those grizzled gas station attendants with their faded baseball hats, this book is a small masterpiece.

As much as I appreciate the mega-bestselling devotional Jesus Calling, I honestly think that Carol Kent’s He Holds My Hand is even better. This book is a page-per-day devotional written as if God the Father is speaking directly to you. 

Over 25 years ago, the author’s only son was sentenced to life in prison without parole. Out of her deep grief, Carol Kent turned to the Scriptures and began to journal what she heard God saying to her: words of comfort and healing, presence and protection. A book does not get any more authentic than that. I recommend this devotional to anyone needing to know that God is with them even in the worst experiences life can throw at us. 

I read this book during the longest and most painful time in my life.

I’d been a faithful Christian, even volunteering about 30 hours each week for 9 months each year for several years, serving as the teacher for a local women’s Bible study. I couldn’t understand why I was experiencing so much pain and devastation.

This book was the one that helped me understand, tribulation is a tool of God that prepares Christians to be used by Him. And now some 30 years later, I can look back and see that very painful, extended time, was used by God for my good and all His glory as I now reach an international audience with my books and podcast.

This book relates to a lot of what I’ve learned in my own research about rituals. Contrary to conventional wisdom, it argues that we humans are not hedonists by nature. Yes, we desire comfort and we pursue all kinds of pleasures. But we also often embrace struggle, effort, and even fear and pain, and those are in fact the things that make our lives truly meaningful. From watching horror films and climbing mountains to raising children and performing painful rituals, Paul Bloom argues that, in the right context, suffering can be part of a life well-lived.

I first read this book shortly after it was published in 1981. I was looking for the answer to the question of why bad things happen in this world.

Kushner did not have an answer to that question, but insights into how we might face the challenges that life can present when those “bad things” happen. He, himself, went through a significant trauma: hearing that his young son had a progressive disease that would not allow him to live into adulthood. Yet Kushner found a way to survive and to move forward.

I’ve read this book multiple times. It always reinforces for me the idea that the difficulties we face in life are just part of living and that even though we may suffer through hard times, life is, indeed, worth living. We can and we must go on.

Sometimes the pain of our suffering is multiplied because those around us act as though grieving is a sign of weakness and lack of faith. Although we live in a world with many wonderful things, we will all experience suffering at some point. And trying to numb or avoid our pain doesn’t make our hurt and grief disappear. For that reason, I’ve been helped and encouraged by Mark Vroegop’s book because it teaches us to lament, which is acknowledging our grief and pain to God, giving ourselves the space and time to grieve while holding onto hope at the same time.

Elisabeth Elliot knows pain. She lost her first husband, Jim Elliot, when he and other missionary husbands were murdered by the tribe of people they were trying to reach. With incredible tenacity and bravery, Elisabeth continued to reach out to the tribe who killed her husband and ended up living among them and helping translate the bible into their language. In addition to that, she also lost her second husband to cancer. Despite all of that, she has offered the hope of Jesus to countless people – including myself. And the profound wisdom that she’s gained through unimaginable suffering has been such a gift to me as I’ve struggled to understand the purposes of my own pain. 

It’s a little weird that this book should find a place on my list. It’s a book about how society has become resistant to anything that is difficult and painful and the kinds of people that we have become as a result. But mathematics is difficult! To understand mathematics you have to think hard, sometimes for a long time. Moreover understanding something hard is discontinuous, it requires a leap to a new way of thinking. You have to start with a problem and this problem might be an ambiguity or a contradiction. A is true and B is true but A and B seem to contradict one another. When you sort out this problem you will have learned something.

The moral here is to embrace things that are difficult if you want to learn significant new things. “No pain, no gain.” You don’t have to worry about some super AI… show more.

Sometimes life doesn’t go as we’d hoped or expected; sometimes it’s filled with layers of difficulty and struggle, and sometimes it’s flipped upside down with tragedy. And I’ve experienced all three. Out of nowhere, death, illness, job loss, etc, can change our lives and challenge our view of God, ourselves, and the world. But despite all the pain, confusion, and disappointment, we have hope.

Paul David Tripp wrote with personal experience about how we can learn to trust God in the midst of suffering. He’s helped me cling to God's promises in my trials, face my pain with honesty, and persevere with the hope of the gospel.

I was shaken by the power of Setiya’s writing. Academic philosophers are not exactly known for the beauty of their prose, but this book is, indeed, beautiful. And sad. And a bit dark. So basically, it was exactly what I look for in a book.

I was drawn in by Setiya’s early disclosure that he lives with chronic pain and that this would be part of his window into exploring suffering. As someone who also lives with pain (and who has tried to write about it), I found his reflections powerful.

His chapter on grief, too, stayed with me, so much so that I went back to it after experiencing a loss in my life. Perhaps that’s the greatest compliment I can give this book—that it truly made philosophy matter to me when I needed it to.