
“You can’t buy a ticket for a train that’s not at the station. This isn’t like vacation where it costs less if you buy it in advance. You don’t even know if this train is coming. That is not how to deal with suffering and pain. Or, shall I say, possible suffering and pain.”
I said this to a client once and it stopped them mid-sentence. We’d been talking about all the ways they were bracing for pain that hadn’t arrived yet — rehearsing it, pre-grieving it, building elaborate mental scenarios for how bad it might get.
They went quiet. And then she said, “Well crap. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing.”
Most of us have two default responses when it comes to suffering and pain. We either spend enormous energy dreading it before it arrives. We do things like catastrophizing, over-preparing, and white-knuckling the future. Or when it does arrive, we shut down and refuse to process it at all. We push it down, power through, and tell ourselves we’re fine. Also, sometimes it never arrives and we bought a ticket to nowhere.
Neither of those approaches works. And there is a better way to deal with suffering and pain, one that is both practical and rooted in faith.
Suffering Is Guaranteed. We Live on Actual Earth.
Let’s start with something the Church sometimes dances around: suffering is not a sign that something has gone wrong with your life or your faith. It is a guaranteed part of being human. Like, that is part of living here is that stuff gets real hard sometimes.
In John 16:33, Jesus said plainly: “In this world you will have trouble.” Not might. Not could. Will. He didn’t promise a pain-free life to those who follow Him. What He promised was this: “But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
Paul writes in Philippians 3:10 about knowing Christ and “the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings.” I used to really wonder what this meant, then the world became a giant dumpster fire and it’s now real obvious. So many folks have endured and are enduring deep suffering. Because Jesus suffered, we know He gets it. There is a companionship in suffering — both with Christ and with one another. And holding hope together helps us endure.
Knowing that suffering will come doesn’t have to be a dark or frightening thought. It can actually be freeing. When we stop being surprised by pain and start being equipped for it, everything changes in how we deal with suffering and pain when it shows up at our door. Please note, this does not make it easy. The concept may be simple, but suffering sucks. There is no way to sugarcoat that.
The Train Metaphor — Why Advanced Purchase is Unhelpful
When that train of suffering does arrive, God provides what we need to board it. He doesn’t empower us beforehand. He meets us in the moment, when we need it and how we need it.
This is what Lamentations 3:22-23 is pointing to: His mercies are new every morning. The grace for tomorrow’s pain is not available today, because you don’t need it today. You need today’s grace for today’s reality. And, quite honestly, we often are the worst prophets. We predict wrong and a whole other train shows up. And we need God’s provision for something else entirely.
When I was learning I was in a coercively controlling marriage, God led me to Hosea 6:1-3. Those verses basically say God is going to tear stuff down and rebuild it. I remember sitting on my bed as I read it. I can still see the deep plum wall of that room and the purple comforter on my bed. My Bible was in my lap as tears dripped onto the page. I was not a fan. In fact, my words to God were like, “Who reads Hosea anyway?!” (Look, I know plenty of people do, but in that moment I was not amused.) But there was a sweetness of God rebuilding in those verses. I could not have predicted what was coming. It was harrowing. I thought I was going to lose my life a couple times. There is no amount of worry or prognostication that could have made that season easier. But what I for sure had each step of the way was Jesus holding on to me. I obviously made it through, and it’s a rock of remembrance for me now.
This is one of the most practically helpful truths I know when it comes to dealing with anxiety about future suffering. You aren’t meant to carry what hasn’t been given to you yet. And you’re probably preparing for the wrong thing anyway. So spending your present-moment energy bracing for a train that isn’t at the station yet doesn’t protect you from the pain when it comes, it just steals your peace in the meantime.
The Other Extreme: Refusing to Process Pain That’s Already Here
The opposite problem is just as common, and just as costly. When suffering arrives many of us shut the door on it. We function. We cope. We keep moving. We exist. We do this because sitting with pain feels unbearable, or weak, or like we’re not trusting God enough.
But unprocessed pain doesn’t disappear. It relocates. It shows up as chronic anxiety, as numbness, as short fuses and sleepless nights and a low-grade sadness that never quite lifts. It shows up in our bodies (yes, we’d love it if the body stopped keeping the score, but here we are). It shows up in our closest relationships. The pain we refuse to feel doesn’t go away, it just goes underground. It doesn’t have to be that way.
The Psalms tell us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Notice it’s not the ones who have it together or the ones who powered through. It’s the brokenhearted. God never minimizes our pain.
Being Present is What Keeps Pain from Getting Worse
One of the most important things I’ve learned, both as a counselor and as someone who has walked through deep grief myself, is that being in the present moment is one of the most powerful tools we have when it comes to how to deal with suffering and pain. We often say “name it to tame it.” When we accurately name what is happening and are present with it, it loses some of its oomph. That doesn’t mean it’s not awful, it’s just not as awful.
When we are living on autopilot with our minds racing ahead to worst-case futures or stuck rehearsing the past we add to our suffering. We take pain that exists in the present and we layer it with fear about tomorrow and regret about yesterday. And the weight becomes almost unbearable. As mentioned in the last blog, we begin to spiral.
But when we’re able to be fully in the present moment — just this moment, just this breath, just what is actually happening right now — we deal with only what is actually in front of us. Not the imagined future pain. Not the replayed past. Just this moment. And this moment is the only where we happen to have real agency.
That is not denial. Nor is it a spiritual bypass. We aren’t pretending everything is fine. It is the radical, countercultural practice of refusing to make your suffering worse by adding to it what isn’t even here yet or flatly ignoring what’s actually happening.
Two weeks after my mother went home to be with Jesus, I went to a concert. A song came on that I had played on repeat during her illness because it reminded me of God’s faithfulness. I stood there — no phone out, no recording, no pretending okay-ness to make the people next to me feel comfortable. I just let myself be fully present with that song and with Jesus. Tears ran down my face. I didn’t care. In that moment, being present with my grief and with God was the most healing thing I could have done. I wasn’t ahead of the pain. I wasn’t behind it. I was in it, and He was there too. And side note, no one at the concert said anything to me.
Practical Skills for Walking Through Pain
Learning how to deal with suffering and pain well is not something most of us were ever taught. We were taught to be strong. To push through. To “give it to God” without really being shown what that looks like in practice. But there are concrete, learnable skills that can help you walk through suffering without being destroyed by it.
These skills include learning to observe and describe what you’re actually experiencing — naming your emotions without being overwhelmed by them. Learning to stay in the present moment rather than projecting into feared futures. Learning to let thoughts and feelings pass through without latching onto them and fueling the spiral. Learning to problem-solve when problem-solving is possible, and to grieve fully when it isn’t.
None of this eliminates pain. I will never promise you that. But it does keep pain from compounding. It keeps suffering from becoming a prison sentence. And it keeps you connected — to yourself, to the people you love, and to the God who promised to be near. And it really does let others come alongside you to bring comfort. We aren’t supposed to do this life alone.
You Were Not Meant to White-knuckle This Alone
One of the greatest lies that suffering tells us is that we have to manage it alone. That needing help is weakness. That if our faith were stronger, we’d be handling this better. Ick for the toxic individualism many of us were taught.
We were created for community. This means asking for help is not a failure of faith nor is being authentic when things, frankly, are awful.
Whether that help comes from a trusted friend, a counselor, a pastor, or a structured set of skills you practice on your own (or all of these), receiving support when you are in pain is not weakness. Or dumb. Or shameful. It’s being gentle to yourself and seeing yourself as God sees you.
The trains will occasionally come. You don’t need to buy the ticket before it arrives. But when it does you can walk through it. It won’t be because you’ve braced hard enough or worried enough or prepared enough. It’ll be because you’ve built the skills, built authentic community, cultivated presence, and anchored yourself to the One who has already overcome. Darkness never wins; Light is always overcomes.

