When Pain Is Real and God Seems Silent: Finding Hope in the Psalms by J. Ligon Duncan III

As a pastor, a question arose during Bible Study about what to do when you're constantly suffering and begging God for relief. I was honestly shocked—not at the question, but at the vulnerability. I’m still new to this whole pastoring thing, and I was blessed to be in a room with such faithful Christians who helped express what I was trying to say.

In the moment, I don’t think the person’s concerns were completely resolved, but I do believe their vulnerability was vitally impactful. That’s what’s needed in the context of fellowship. We all need to live our lives with nothing to hide. And that’s tough—especially today.

Our faith requires vulnerability—first with God, and then with our brothers and sisters in Christ. That’s why I was so eager to read When Pain Is Real and God Seems Silent by Ligon Duncan. This little book packs a powerful punch. Duncan offers a compassionate and theologically rich walk through the Psalms, particularly Psalms 88 and 89. He doesn’t shy away from the rawness of Scripture. Instead, he brings clarity and comfort by showing how these Psalms teach us to speak honestly with God in our suffering.

What stood out to me most was how succinct yet deep this book is. Duncan’s words reflect both scholarship and shepherding. Whether you’re in a season of grief or walking alongside someone who is—that’s where I found myself—I was deeply moved. I’ve been blessed in my life, but I’ve taken on the weight of that vulnerable Christian’s question, and it’s stuck with me. Duncan’s reflections help make sense of suffering—whether it’s in your past, present, or yet to come.

His unpacking of Psalm 88 really struck me. It’s one of the darkest Psalms in the Bible—there’s no resolution, no upbeat ending. And yet, it’s still a prayer.

Duncan teaches that lament isn’t unfaithful—it’s faithful. Lament is part of worship. The Bible gives us words for when we don’t know what to say in our sorrow. That was incredibly encouraging to me. We’re allowed to grieve deeply and still hold on to God. I wholeheartedly believe that we should worship God in every circumstance. He is good and just all the time. He is the Creator and the Author of time—whether I’m in a good season or not.

Faith isn’t based on feelings. Even when God seems silent, He’s still working, still listening, still loving. That changes how I wait, how I pray, and how I trust in the dark. God is big enough for our pain. He doesn’t flinch at our questions. He welcomes our honesty and gives us His Word so we’re not alone in our suffering. Duncan reminds us that Jesus Himself entered our pain and cried out with a loud voice. Our God is not far off—He is near to the brokenhearted.

This was such a good read—brief, but so meaningful. It’s the kind of book I want to keep on my shelf to revisit in hard times, or hand to someone walking through silence and struggle—which is exactly what I’m going to do.

Hope shines through every page, even when the Psalms feel heavy. Duncan doesn’t offer shallow answers—he points us to a deep and present God.