Quotes About Suffering

and warm awareness, you are going to have an incredible life. You are going to have sufferings as well, but you will always return to that place of warmth and fire within yourself.

Love is not something you save and hoard. You're born with it and you spend it when you have to and there's always more because you're a woman and there's always suffering and pain and gentleness and sadness to make it grow.

Somebody once said that the biggest difference between you and God is that God doesn't think he's you. In pain, we get very clear about not being God.

God's great, holy joke about the messiah complex is this: Every human being who has ever lived has suffered from it—except one. And he was the Messiah.

The question is, can a human being hold on to God in the face of suffering? After all, suffering is the test of love.

Etty spent her last days giving hope and care, "with a kind word for everyone she met on the way." Her final words were written on a postcard and thrown off Wagon No. 12, the railroad car she rode to what she knew would be her death in Auschwitz. "We left camp singing," she wrote. The Nazis took control of her possessions, her mobility, her work, her family, her body, and finally her life, yet she believed that they did not truly take anything at all.

Dostoyevsky, who was a believer, wrote that the "death of a single infant calls into question the existence of God."1

The character of the faith that allows us to be transformed by suffering and darkness is not doubt-free certainty; rather, it is tenacious obedience.

It therefore behoveth all those who may possibly be called to suffer for the truth in any season, or on any occasion, to assure their minds in this fundamental truth, that they may have in themselves a certain undeceiving understanding of the mind and will of God as revealed in the Scripture, independent on the authority of any church or persons whatsoever; the use of whose ministry herein we do yet freely and fully allow.

Yet in these and the like distresses doth the word of God, by its divine power and efficacy, break through all interposing difficulties, all dark and discouraging circumstances, supporting, refreshing, and comforting such poor distressed sufferers, yea, commonly filling them under overwhelming calamities with "joy unspeakable and full of glory." Though

If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace." Those

Please, God, just let the pain go away.

It does not cost money only. It costs degradation. You do not merely employ these people. You also tread upon them.

a short distance ahead of him, once behind him, artillery shells fired with cell phones. He hadn't exactly been wounded either time, but he'd been hurt. He couldn't hear anything for a while after the second explosion and never could hear as well as he had when he enlisted. Right

bleeding heavily, her eyes flat with

Dannon brought the .22 up and shot him in the temple. Carver's head bounced off the side window and Dannon shot him again, the .22 shots deafening inside the truck, but hardly audible outside. Carver slumped, his face not even looking surprised.

I had, bluntly, the worst fucking headache I had ever had in my life. I'm trying to think of the best way to describe it. Try this. Imagine a migraine, on top of a hangover, while sitting in a kindergarten of thirty screaming children, who are all taking turns stabbing you in the eye with an ice pick.

Oh for God's sake how divine can I be? My feet hurt, I have gas and I need to pee.

The short version was death, disease, despots and destruction. The longer version had kept him up wondering what the hell was wrong with people.

Imagine a migraine, on top of a hangover, while sitting in a kindergarten of thirty screaming children, who are all taking turns stabbing you in the eye with an ice pick.

There's no but. You're right. It's just a reminder that war favors the rich. The ones who can leave, do. The ones who can't, suffer.

she will find a way to make the rest of your natural existence one of unceasing woe and misery.

I had, bluntly, the worst fucking headache I had ever had in my life. I'm trying to think of the best way to describe it. Try this. Imagine a migraine, on top of a hangover, while sitting in a kindergarten of thirty screaming children, who are all taking turns stabbing you in the eye with an ice pick. Times six. That was the good part of my headache.

How do you feel?" "I have a headache," Lee said. "My muscles are sore. I am dying of thirst. I have to pee. I am restrained. I'm blind. How are you?" "Better than you, I will admit