This question often arises not from a desire for abstract answers, but from a place where the heart feels the weight of reality most acutely. I wonder if, beneath the asking, there is a longing to know that this pain is not meaningless, and that God has not withdrawn His presence even when He permits the trial.
Thomas à Kempis offers words that speak directly to this tension, not as a dismissal of suffering, but as a revelation of God’s nearness within it:
“Son, I am the Lord who strengthens you in the day of tribulation. Come to Me when things go badly with you. What most hinders heavenly consolation is that you are too slow to turn to prayer; for before you ask Me earnestly, you seek many other comforts and distract yourself with outward things. Therefore, little avails until you realize that I am the One who cares for those who hope in Me... But now, having recovered your spirit after the storm, grow strong again in the light of My mercies; for ‘I am near,’ says the Lord, ‘to restore you in all things, not only fully, but abundantly and lavishly.’” [1]
There is such tenderness in that invitation. It suggests that God’s permission of suffering is never an abandonment, but rather a difficult, mysterious space where He waits for us to turn to Him as our only true remedy. The pain is real, yet He promises that His restoration is not merely a return to what was, but an overflowing gift of grace that meets us precisely in our need.
St. Alphonsus Liguori deepens this understanding, helping us see that what feels like absence may indeed be a profound form of love and purification:
“But you will say: If I knew that this desolation came from God, I would be content; but what afflicts and disturbs me is the fear that it comes from my own fault, as a punishment for my lukewarmness. Well then, away with lukewarmness, and use greater diligence. But perhaps because you are in darkness, you wish on that account to be troubled, to give up prayer, and thus double your evil? Suppose the dryness comes as a punishment, as you say. Does not God send this punishment? Accept it then as a punishment well deserved, and unite yourself to the divine will... When God sends darkness and desolation, He is testing His true friends. He who prays with consolations does not accomplish much... Whoever perseveres in prayer with dryness, God will grant a greater grace than if he had prayed much with sensible devotion.” [3]
It is a challenging truth, but one filled with hope: God sometimes allows the stripping away of felt consolation not to punish us, but to draw us into a love that rests in Him alone, rather than in the sweetness of spiritual feelings. In this light, suffering and dryness become a crucible where our trust is purified and our union with His will is made deeper.
And through it all, Psalm 42 gives us a voice to carry this very questioning to God, transforming our confusion into an act of trust:
“Why are you sad, O my soul? And why do you trouble me? Hope in God, for I will still give thanks to Him, the salvation of my countenance, and my God.” [2]
This is the movement of a heart that, even while feeling the ache, chooses to anchor itself in the One who is faithful. The question “why” does not have to be resolved before we can hope; we can bring the question itself to Him.