Psalm 23 and Suffering

When someone has suffered deeply, the question often asked is one of the most honest and human questions a person can ask: “Why did God let this happen to me?” It is not a question of weak faith. It is a question that rises from a wounded heart that is trying to understand suffering in the presence of God.

Even the saints have asked it. Even the psalms ask it.

We must acknowledge that the pain one experiences is real. Being harmed by someone who should have loved you is deeply unjust. Watching someone you love struggle with destructive behavior is heartbreaking. These experiences cut into the heart in ways that can leave confusion, anger, grief, and even a sense of abandonment.

Our faith does not ask us to pretend those wounds are small. Instead, it calls for us to place them before God. Psalm 23 is a powerful place to begin.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

These words are not spoken by someone whose life has been easy. They are spoken by someone who has walked through danger, uncertainty, and loss. The psalm itself tells us this when it says:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me.

Notice the prime foundation: the psalm does not say the valley does not exist. It does not say the shepherd removes every hardship. Instead, it tells us something different and deeper: the shepherd walks with us through the valley.

This small difference changes everything.

One of the hardest truths in Christian theology is also one of the most misunderstood: God does not cause evil; He allows human freedom. Human freedom, when misused, can cause terrible harm.

God did not create people to be puppets. He created them with the dignity of freedom so that they could truly love. Love cannot exist without freedom. However, the tragic consequence of that freedom is that people can also choose selfishness, sin, and violence.

When someone abuses another person, that act does not come from God. It comes from a human being misusing the freedom God gave them. The Church has always taught that sin is a distortion of the good, not something created by God. In other words, God did not will the violence done to any of us. Nor did God will the destructive choices that have hurt our family. Those things arise from the brokenness of the human condition.

This brokenness is what Christian theology calls the reality of the Fall. Humanity was created for harmony with God, with others, and within ourselves. But through sin, that harmony was fractured. The result is a world where suffering, moral confusion, and wounded relationships exist. Sometimes, those wounds strike very close to home.

Psalm 23 reminds us of something remarkable: even in a wounded world, the shepherd does not abandon His flock.

He guides me in right paths for his name’s sake.

The shepherd is still guiding. This means that even when life becomes chaotic or painful, God is still working quietly within the story. He is not absent from our suffering; He is present within it, guiding us toward healing and redemption in ways that are often hidden at first.

One of the deepest insights of Catholic theology is that God can bring good even out of situations that were not good to begin with. This does not mean the evil becomes good. Abuse remains abuse. Sin remains sin. But God’s providence is powerful enough to bring new life even from wounded places.

The clearest example of this is the Cross. Jesus experienced betrayal, violence, humiliation, and abandonment. He knew what it meant to suffer injustice. He knew what it meant to be wounded by those He loved. On the Holy Cross, He even cried out words from Psalm 22 that sound very much like the question we ask: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Christ entered fully into the experience of human suffering. Not to explain it away but to transform it. Through the resurrection, the execution of the innocent Son of God became the moment through which salvation entered the world. This reveals something profound about how God works. He does not always prevent suffering, but He refuses to let suffering have the final word.

You spread the table before me in the sight of my foes.

In the ancient world, sharing a table meant protection and belonging. Even when enemies were near, the host provided safety and nourishment. The psalmist reminds us that God prepares a place of peace even in the presence of conflict and danger. This image points toward the Eucharist. Christ feeds His people even in the midst of a wounded world. The table of the Lord becomes a place where broken hearts are gradually restored.

Healing in the spiritual life is often slow. God does not rush the process of mending the human heart. Just as physical wounds need time to heal, emotional and spiritual wounds also require patience, support, and grace.  Sometimes, the first step toward healing is simply recognizing that the suffering was not our fault.

Victims of abuse often carry an invisible burden of guilt or shame. They wonder if they somehow caused what happened or should have prevented it. The responsibility for violence belongs not the one who suffers it but solely upon the one who commits it. The Good Shepherd never blames the wounded sheep. Instead, He searches for them:

He refreshes my soul.

This restoration brings back life to someone exhausted or overwhelmed. It describes what a shepherd does for sheep that have been injured or worn down by the journey. God desires restoration for every wounded heart.

Such restoration often requires help from others. God frequently works through counselors, pastors, friends, and communities that provide support and understanding. Seeking that help is not a sign of weakness. It is often one of the ways the shepherd guides us beside “restful waters.”

Watching someone we love become trapped in destructive behavior can be almost as painful as being hurt directly. Addiction and distorted forms of sexuality often arise from deeper wounds, confusion, or exposure to harmful influences. These situations create complicated emotional landscapes within families. Love becomes mixed with anger, grief, and helplessness. It can feel overwhelming. Here again, Psalm 23 reminds us that the shepherd walks with us through the valley. God is not indifferent to the struggles of our families. He sees every wound, every confusion, every broken relationship. He never stops seeking the lost. Christ tells us of a shepherd who leaves ninety-nine sheep to search for the one that has wandered away. Even when we have fallen into serious sin, God continues to pursue us with mercy.

This does not mean we excuse harmful behavior or ignore boundaries that protect us. Christian love does not require allowing others to continue harming us. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is set clear limits while continuing to pray for the person’s conversion. God’s mercy and justice work together.

Another part of Psalm 23 speaks directly to fear:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff comfort me.

The rod and the staff were tools the shepherd used to protect and guide the flock. One was used to drive away predators; the other helped pull sheep back from dangerous places. In other words, the shepherd is both gentle and strong.

God’s love includes protection. It includes justice. It includes the strength needed to face what is difficult. For someone who has experienced deep hurt, rebuilding trust in God can take time. When suffering occurs, it is natural to wonder where God was in those moments. Yet many people later discover that God was quietly present in ways they did not initially see, such as in the strength that helped them survive, in the people who offered support and in the inner voice that refused to let despair completely take over.

Sometimes the shepherd carries us when we cannot walk. Psalm 23 ends with a promise:

Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for years to come.

“Follow” in this verse means “pursue” in the original text The psalmist reminds us that God’s goodness is actively pursuing us throughout our lives: when we feel lost, when our story has been marked by pain and even when we struggle to understand why certain things happened God’s goodness is still pursuing.

Our hope is rooted in the belief that our lives are not defined by the worst things that have happened to us. Our identity is deeper than our wounds. Each person is created in the image of God, and that dignity can never be erased. The Good Shepherd sees that dignity even when others have failed to honor it. He continues to lead us forward.

This journey of healing and trust does not happen all at once. It unfolds gradually, step by step. Sometimes, the path includes anger, tears, and questions. The psalms themselves contain many prayers of lament where people cry out to God in confusion and grief. Yet, God is not afraid of those prayers. In fact, He invites them.

The relationship between the shepherd and the sheep described in Psalm 23 is not distant or abstract. It is personal. Our Shepherd knows each of His sheep. He understands our wounds, fears and our tendencies to wander. Still, He loves us.

“Why did God let this happen to me?” may not receive a simple answer in this life. Human suffering is often too complex for easy explanations. Our faith offers something deeper than a simple explanation. It offers the presence of the Shepherd, one who enters the valley with us, who protects, guides, and restores us and, who ultimately leads His flock home.

That home is the final promise of Psalm 23: 

I shall dwell in the house of the Lord.

The suffering of this world is not the final chapter of our story. God is leading us toward a future where every wound is healed, every tear is wiped away, and every broken relationship is made new. Until that day, our journey continues. The Shepherd continues walking beside us: not only in the valley but especially in the valley.