The problem of evil is the start of any discussion on suffering. This is the argument that states that if God loves us, and is all powerful and all seeing, why would he put us through such pain in life.
For many, it seems logically contradictory that suffering would exist, and that God would put his creations through such torment.
In this thoughtful article, I will provide my perspective on suffering, and its ‘role’.
The Purpose of Suffering
Suffering itself is an inescapable part of reality. It does not exist to serve a purpose. Perhaps there are some obstacles that a divine creator puts in place to test our faith or shapes our fates to a nobler goal, but it is likely that the vast majority of suffering does not play such an intentional role.
We also suffer in different ways and there are many types of suffering. Some of us are also prone to different types of suffering.
In my life, I find that most of my suffering comes about as a result of my own desires. The Buddhists and the German philosopher, Schopenhauer certainly took the view that suffering at its root originated in our cravings and desires being left unfulfilled. He saw life itself as a treadmill, one where we fated to continue suffering in a manner similar to figures from Greek Mythology, such as Sisyphus (eternally pushing a boulder up an incline), or Tantalus reaching for fruit out of reach.
I’m not sure if it is the case that desire itself causes this suffering. Often, I’ve found it’s my tendency to give in to my tendency to give in to my desires which has resulted in the most pain. It is often the feeling of a lack of power and agency over my actions which hurts the most.
From a Freudian perspective, my morality and values maintained by my superego, are put in jeopardy by my id’s baser instinct and desires. If I’m able to resist them, then I feel incredible power and agency. I may avoid momentary pleasure, but I’ll simultaneously feel an incredible sense of accomplishment.
Stoic Philosophy
One reason why stoic philosophy helps anyone feel an incredible sense of agency is because it allows you to overpower your id.
First, agency is a primary factor of the stoic worldview. If you know that you should only really care about the results you can control, then it then it gives you back a clear field of action. The mind no longer burns itself up trying to reroute the weather, other people, or yesterday. It returns to the very small patch of earth you can actually tend: what you choose, what you say, what you do next.
What Stoicism Actually Hands You
1) The dichotomy of control.
There are things that are truly up to me (my judgements, intentions, efforts), things I can influence (relationships, projects), and things that are flatly outside my power (other minds, randomness, mortality). When I sort my concerns into those piles, my anxiety drops and my energy rises. Paradoxically, accepting limits increases agency.
2) A pause long enough to choose.
Between an urge and an action is a sliver of space. Stoic practice widens that space. A simple line helps me: “This is an impression, not a command.” The craving or fear is real; its authority is optional. When I remember that, my id loses its megaphone, and my superego stops moralising after the fact. I can just choose.
3) Voluntary hardship as training.
Occasional, deliberate discomfort—cold showers, fasting, leaving the phone behind—rehearses me for involuntary discomfort. I prove to myself that I can be uncomfortable without being compromised. It’s not asceticism for its own sake; it’s strength training for self-control.
4) Values before outcomes.
If I measure a day by outcomes, I’m hostage to chance. If I measure it by whether I acted with honesty, courage, fairness, and self-control, I can “win” in a losing situation. This is how Stoicism turns loss into integrity rather than bitterness.
5) Engagement, not passivity.
Stoicism is often caricatured as a form of emotional numbing. In practice, it’s the opposite. By not being run by my feelings, I’m freer to face problems, including injustice. Acceptance isn’t acquiescence; it’s sober seeing, followed by the most effective action available.
Pain vs Suffering
Pain is the body’s or psyche’s signal: something matters here. Suffering, as I experience it, is pain plus the story I add—this shouldn’t be happening, I can’t stand this, this ruins everything. I don’t control the first. I can edit the second. When I cut away the catastrophising, enough room appears to respond.
Desire, Agency, and the “Id”
I used to blame desire itself. Desire is just a current; what hurts is being dragged without steering. When I practice micro-acts of resistance—waiting two minutes before indulging, choosing a smaller portion, closing a tab instead of spiralling—I feel power return. Not because I’ve killed desire, but because I can ride it.
A practical trick that’s helped: not now, later. I rarely tell myself never. I defer. Most urges expire if I outlive the peak. When I do choose the pleasure, I do it openly rather than as a covert surrender. The difference, internally, is huge.
Meaning Without Pretending
I don’t believe every instance of suffering is laid like a puzzle by a divine hand. Much of it seems indifferent, even senseless. But humans are meaning-makers. We can assign a role to what didn’t arrive with one. That doesn’t sanctify tragedy; it salvages us. I can let pain shrink me, or I can use it to deepen patience, widen compassion, clarify priorities, or stiffen my spine. Those are meanings I author, not meanings I’m forced to believe.
When Suffering Is Unjust
Not all pain should be borne quietly. Some suffering is a signal to change a job, leave a relationship, set a boundary, or challenge a system. Stoicism helps here too: it asks for the most courageous action I can take given what is, not the theatrically heroic action I fantasise about. Sometimes the bravest move is a hard conversation. Sometimes it’s a formal complaint. Sometimes it’s simply leaving.
Some people are forced to endure incredible pain through no fault of their own. The stoic has a great responsibility to stand against these injustices. For instance, if a child is sold into slavery, it is not something we should accept if we have some power to stop it. We have a duty to protect those who have had their agency stolen away.
Compassion, Including for the Self
I’ve noticed that harshness towards myself tends to metastasise into harshness towards others. A gentler stance and taking responsibility without self-contempt is how to stay honest and human.
Compassion doesn’t mean excusing harm; it means refusing to add gratuitous cruelty to what already hurts.
Practices That Keep Me Oriented
- Morning sort: List what’s in my control, what I can influence, and what I must accept today. Act accordingly.
- Premeditation: Briefly imagine what could go wrong (delays, rejections, losses) and pre-choose my response.
- Urge surfing: When a desire spikes, ride the wave for two minutes. Decide after the peak.
- Voluntary discomfort: One small, regular friction—walk in the rain, take the stairs, sit with boredom.
- Evening audit: Did I act with courage, moderation, justice, and honesty? Where did I slip? What’s the smallest repair?
- Service: Do a quiet, useful thing for someone else. Suffering narrows the world; service reopens it.
A Working Stance
Suffering isn’t a test I must pass, nor a riddle I must solve. It is a constant I must relate to. When I treat it as raw material rather than a cosmic verdict, I find room to live well inside it. The problem of evil may remain unresolved at the metaphysical level. At the practical level, agency, virtue, and compassion are enough to keep walking.
In that sense, the “role” of suffering in my life is not what it was assigned, but what I assign: a rough teacher, a boundary, a mirror—and, sometimes, simply weather to be endured with a good coat and steady steps.
