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This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers
This book is not a before and after story. Our culture treats suffering like a problem to fix, a blight to hide, or the sad start of a transformation story. We silently, secretly wither under the pressure of living as though suffering is a predicament we can avoid or annihilate by having enough faith or trying harder. When your prayers for healing haven't been answered, the fog of depression isn't lifting, your marriage is ending in divorce, or grief won't go away, it's easy to feel you've failed God or, worse, he's failed you. If God loves us, why does he allow us to hurt? Over a decade ago chronic illness plunged therapist and writer K.J. Ramsey straight into this paradox. Before her illness, faith made sense. But when pain came and never left, K.J. had to find a way across the widening canyon that seemed to separate God's goodness from her excruciating circumstances. She wanted to conquer suffering. Instead, she encountered the God who chose it. She wanted to make pain past-tense. Instead, God invited her into a bigger story. This Too Shall Last offers an antidote to our cultural idolatry of effort and ease. Through personal story and insights from neuroscience and theology, Ramsey invites us to let our tears become lenses of the wonder that before God ever rescues us, he stands in solidarity with us. We are all mid-story in circumstances we did not choose, wondering when our hard things will end and where grace will come if they don't. Together, we can encounter grace in the middle, where living with suffering that lingers can mean receiving God's presence that lasts. What if the church treated suffering like a story to tell rather than a secret to keep until it passes?
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First published May 12, 2020
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About the author
K.J. Ramsey
3 books903 followersK.J. Ramsey is a trauma-informed licensed professional counselor and author whose work offers space to see every part of our souls and stories as sacred. She holds degrees from Covenant College and Denver Seminary and is the author of This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers and The Lord is My Courage: Stepping Through the Shadows of Fear Toward the Voice of Love. K.J. writes at the intersection of theology, psychology, and spiritual formation to guide us in recovering the rhythm of resilience through nervous system regulation and the wonder of communion with God. She and her husband Ryan, along with their two exceptionally cuddly dogs, Merton and Resa, live near Denver, Colorado where K.J. listens for the liturgy of life in wildflowers, sunsets, sorrow, and church. Connect with her online at kjramsey.com and across social media @kjramseywrites.
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June 13, 2020Definitely the best book I’ve ever written.
February 12, 2020
Hello my name is Rachel and I love Christian nonfiction (preferably written by women) that looks at Hard Questions™
This book gets up close and personal with one overarching question: what does it mean if God doesn't end your suffering, like, maybe ever? What if some sufferings (or suffering in general) isn't a temporary valley but the path of your whole life? What if your marriage doesn't repair or you never do get pregnant or your family never reconciles or your illness or their illness is never cured?
Framed around the author's expertise in theology, psychology and neuroscience, her life traumas and a decade with a chronic illness, let me say this book is two things: SMMMMMMMMMMMMART and real. Don't go in expecting some nice encouraging fluff. This is a few levels short of a dissertation, full of notations and footnotes and references to neuroscientists and other theologians. While there are pieces of advice, this is not a how-to book on suffering. Instead, it asks you to take a long look at suffering, both yours and others. Are you trying to rush through it? Are you quick to tell people that "God has a plan" or "God will use this for good" instead of just sitting in the grief with them? Do you treat suffering as a 'before' stage and therefore don't know how to handle if there is no 'after'? Do you understand that Christ suffered, and what that means for us? DEEP TALKS.
PopSugar 2020: A book you picked because the title caught your attention.
This book gets up close and personal with one overarching question: what does it mean if God doesn't end your suffering, like, maybe ever? What if some sufferings (or suffering in general) isn't a temporary valley but the path of your whole life? What if your marriage doesn't repair or you never do get pregnant or your family never reconciles or your illness or their illness is never cured?
Framed around the author's expertise in theology, psychology and neuroscience, her life traumas and a decade with a chronic illness, let me say this book is two things: SMMMMMMMMMMMMART and real. Don't go in expecting some nice encouraging fluff. This is a few levels short of a dissertation, full of notations and footnotes and references to neuroscientists and other theologians. While there are pieces of advice, this is not a how-to book on suffering. Instead, it asks you to take a long look at suffering, both yours and others. Are you trying to rush through it? Are you quick to tell people that "God has a plan" or "God will use this for good" instead of just sitting in the grief with them? Do you treat suffering as a 'before' stage and therefore don't know how to handle if there is no 'after'? Do you understand that Christ suffered, and what that means for us? DEEP TALKS.
PopSugar 2020: A book you picked because the title caught your attention.
May 25, 2020
"Suffering is coming to the edge of ourselves, to the place where we viscerally feel the truth that being human is being limited. All pain triggers a reminder, deeper than thought, buzzing through blood and bone, that we are fragile and finite. Suffering whispers, shouts, and screams the story no one wants to remember: we are not in control, and we are all going to die."
When K.J. Ramsey was in college, she experienced the sudden onset of a debilitating autoimmune disease, and it completely upended her life. In This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers, she combines a memoir style with a carefully articulated theology of the body, sharing hard-won wisdom about how to endure life and trust God in the midst of great pain. She primarily targets this book towards the chronically ill, but people experiencing other forms of suffering may also find it helpful and encouraging.
Throughout this book, Ramsey addresses warped perspectives on suffering that are prevalent in Western culture and church traditions. She provides a firm defense against the view that suffering is a consequence for personal sin, and dismantles the idea that people can overcome their trials through sufficient prayer or penance. This book isn't a checklist to victorious living, but a deep, embodied, theological perspective on how to live with pain. Ramsey takes on the meaningless platitudes, unjust accusations, and false hopes that make suffering even more bitter, and provides a testimony of how Christians can anchor their souls within Christ and his truth.
What About Sin?
Ramsey addresses common struggles through the combined lenses of theology and neuroscience, but in her writings about trauma, shame, and what Christ's death means for us, she almost entirely ignores the reality of sin. Since so many of her readers have baggage from people telling them that hidden sin is at the root of their suffering, I can understand why she would step lightly here, but I wish that she had clarified the biblical vision of sin, instead of occasionally apologizing for mentioning it.
Ramsey constantly omits sin as a central part of the redemptive story, and because she focuses on Christ's death as a central part of embodied theology, her neglect of what his death was for is incredibly jarring. Yes, Jesus established his kingdom and died to redeem the broken world, but sin caused creation's brokenness in the first place, and Jesus came on a mission of reconciliation. It is impossible to gloss over the reality of sin and still leave the story of Jesus intact.
During his ministry, Jesus made it abundantly clear that physical ailments have no cause-and-effect relation to a person's sin (John 9:1-3). However, he often said "Your sins are forgiven" before healing someone, not because it was the cause for their problem, but because it was their bigger problem. He also claimed, in many words and in many ways, that his blood would be "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (Matthew 26:28). The forgiveness of sin was central to Jesus's mission, and part of why the religious authorities of his day plotted his death is because he claimed to have the power to forgive sins, which was blasphemy to them (Matthew 9:1-8).
Undermining the Gospel
Ultimately, by emphasizing every aspect of the gospel story except for sin, Ramsey undermines her own purpose. I understand her reticence to bring up sin when so many of her readers have suffered from people's unjust accusations, but ignoring the issue of sin does nothing to restore them to a full, accurate theological vision. Besides, there is no subgroup of Christians who does not need to hear that Christ died for their sins. We are all sinners, regardless what our specific life problems happen to be, and we need to hear about Christ's embodied nature and the forgiveness of sins, not just one or the other.
When I reached the chapter entitled "Repentance," I hoped that she was about to shift her focus. However, she rarely mentions sin in this chapter either. Instead, she focuses on the importance of letting go of shame, turning back from despair, and trusting God. These are all important parts of repentance, but she still never addresses how sick people can navigate sin and temptation. She writes as if they don't need to hear the gospel applied to their sin, and as if all of their struggles are from external suffering, never from within. She writes with grace and kindness, wanting people to understand God's love for them and experience it even in the midst of their pain, but in her picture of what it means to be sick, she gives an incomplete picture of what it means to be human.
Implications for Life
My experiences with chronic illness make me very aware of how sinful I am. At one point, I genuinely had so much to regret that it was unbearable to me to remember how I had behaved when my health was at its worst. What changed my life was an understanding of how forgiven I truly am, and that is what this book lacks. Ramsey addresses the spitting agony of pain, and how we need to relate to our loving God like suffering children, but even though she is very honest about how emotionally disruptive suffering is, she doesn't address the implications of how sinfully charged our reactions can be, especially towards other people.
Ramsey's avoidance of sin theology also restricts this book's readership. She writes about how pain isn't a consequence for sin, and this applies to her and many other people, but there are also those who deal with physical suffering and moral guilt because of their own destructive life choices. Because she glosses over the reality of sin, she never provides a clear, life-changing picture of the gospel, and she potentially alienates these readers instead of giving them hope.
Christ's forgiveness is enough to cleanse us from every wrong we have ever done. It is hope for someone who has suffered because of their bad choices, and it is hope for people who will never know why they are in such pain. No matter what our circumstances are, or what might have caused them, we are all sinners, and we all need to be washed clean of every guilty stain. This book could have been so much more powerful if the author had included a robust understanding of sin and forgiveness, but she never did.
Conclusion
This Too Shall Last has lots of excellent elements, filling in theological gaps that the church often neglects. However, even though I appreciate the author's vulnerable testimony, eloquent writing, and wonderful insights, her omission of sin as a central topic kept me from valuing this book as much as I would have. If it hadn't been so theological in nature, it wouldn't have mattered as much, but K.J. Ramsey's message is profoundly, inextricably grounded in biblical teaching and theology, and this makes her omission very noticeable and concerning. She was probably just trying to focus on the neglected subject of body theology, knowing that other topics are well-addressed elsewhere, but because she emphasized the gospel and the death and resurrection of Christ again and again without clearly addressing sin, the book provides a lopsided view of Christianity and is much less powerful than it could have been.
Because this book lacks a clear message of forgiveness and focuses on those who endure mysterious, unexplained sufferings, I would not recommend this to people who are struggling because of destructive choices, but in general, Christians who struggle with physical pain can greatly benefit from this book. If I knew someone who needed to read a helpful book about suffering, I would encourage them to read this, and I would hope that it would deeply encourage them, because it has a lot to offer. Many elements of this book are absolutely wonderful, and it will bless lots of people, but the theological imbalances in this book are a big enough problem that I feel a need to reduce my rating because of them and address the issues in detail.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
When K.J. Ramsey was in college, she experienced the sudden onset of a debilitating autoimmune disease, and it completely upended her life. In This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers, she combines a memoir style with a carefully articulated theology of the body, sharing hard-won wisdom about how to endure life and trust God in the midst of great pain. She primarily targets this book towards the chronically ill, but people experiencing other forms of suffering may also find it helpful and encouraging.
Throughout this book, Ramsey addresses warped perspectives on suffering that are prevalent in Western culture and church traditions. She provides a firm defense against the view that suffering is a consequence for personal sin, and dismantles the idea that people can overcome their trials through sufficient prayer or penance. This book isn't a checklist to victorious living, but a deep, embodied, theological perspective on how to live with pain. Ramsey takes on the meaningless platitudes, unjust accusations, and false hopes that make suffering even more bitter, and provides a testimony of how Christians can anchor their souls within Christ and his truth.
What About Sin?
Ramsey addresses common struggles through the combined lenses of theology and neuroscience, but in her writings about trauma, shame, and what Christ's death means for us, she almost entirely ignores the reality of sin. Since so many of her readers have baggage from people telling them that hidden sin is at the root of their suffering, I can understand why she would step lightly here, but I wish that she had clarified the biblical vision of sin, instead of occasionally apologizing for mentioning it.
Ramsey constantly omits sin as a central part of the redemptive story, and because she focuses on Christ's death as a central part of embodied theology, her neglect of what his death was for is incredibly jarring. Yes, Jesus established his kingdom and died to redeem the broken world, but sin caused creation's brokenness in the first place, and Jesus came on a mission of reconciliation. It is impossible to gloss over the reality of sin and still leave the story of Jesus intact.
During his ministry, Jesus made it abundantly clear that physical ailments have no cause-and-effect relation to a person's sin (John 9:1-3). However, he often said "Your sins are forgiven" before healing someone, not because it was the cause for their problem, but because it was their bigger problem. He also claimed, in many words and in many ways, that his blood would be "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins" (Matthew 26:28). The forgiveness of sin was central to Jesus's mission, and part of why the religious authorities of his day plotted his death is because he claimed to have the power to forgive sins, which was blasphemy to them (Matthew 9:1-8).
Undermining the Gospel
Ultimately, by emphasizing every aspect of the gospel story except for sin, Ramsey undermines her own purpose. I understand her reticence to bring up sin when so many of her readers have suffered from people's unjust accusations, but ignoring the issue of sin does nothing to restore them to a full, accurate theological vision. Besides, there is no subgroup of Christians who does not need to hear that Christ died for their sins. We are all sinners, regardless what our specific life problems happen to be, and we need to hear about Christ's embodied nature and the forgiveness of sins, not just one or the other.
When I reached the chapter entitled "Repentance," I hoped that she was about to shift her focus. However, she rarely mentions sin in this chapter either. Instead, she focuses on the importance of letting go of shame, turning back from despair, and trusting God. These are all important parts of repentance, but she still never addresses how sick people can navigate sin and temptation. She writes as if they don't need to hear the gospel applied to their sin, and as if all of their struggles are from external suffering, never from within. She writes with grace and kindness, wanting people to understand God's love for them and experience it even in the midst of their pain, but in her picture of what it means to be sick, she gives an incomplete picture of what it means to be human.
Implications for Life
My experiences with chronic illness make me very aware of how sinful I am. At one point, I genuinely had so much to regret that it was unbearable to me to remember how I had behaved when my health was at its worst. What changed my life was an understanding of how forgiven I truly am, and that is what this book lacks. Ramsey addresses the spitting agony of pain, and how we need to relate to our loving God like suffering children, but even though she is very honest about how emotionally disruptive suffering is, she doesn't address the implications of how sinfully charged our reactions can be, especially towards other people.
Ramsey's avoidance of sin theology also restricts this book's readership. She writes about how pain isn't a consequence for sin, and this applies to her and many other people, but there are also those who deal with physical suffering and moral guilt because of their own destructive life choices. Because she glosses over the reality of sin, she never provides a clear, life-changing picture of the gospel, and she potentially alienates these readers instead of giving them hope.
Christ's forgiveness is enough to cleanse us from every wrong we have ever done. It is hope for someone who has suffered because of their bad choices, and it is hope for people who will never know why they are in such pain. No matter what our circumstances are, or what might have caused them, we are all sinners, and we all need to be washed clean of every guilty stain. This book could have been so much more powerful if the author had included a robust understanding of sin and forgiveness, but she never did.
Conclusion
This Too Shall Last has lots of excellent elements, filling in theological gaps that the church often neglects. However, even though I appreciate the author's vulnerable testimony, eloquent writing, and wonderful insights, her omission of sin as a central topic kept me from valuing this book as much as I would have. If it hadn't been so theological in nature, it wouldn't have mattered as much, but K.J. Ramsey's message is profoundly, inextricably grounded in biblical teaching and theology, and this makes her omission very noticeable and concerning. She was probably just trying to focus on the neglected subject of body theology, knowing that other topics are well-addressed elsewhere, but because she emphasized the gospel and the death and resurrection of Christ again and again without clearly addressing sin, the book provides a lopsided view of Christianity and is much less powerful than it could have been.
Because this book lacks a clear message of forgiveness and focuses on those who endure mysterious, unexplained sufferings, I would not recommend this to people who are struggling because of destructive choices, but in general, Christians who struggle with physical pain can greatly benefit from this book. If I knew someone who needed to read a helpful book about suffering, I would encourage them to read this, and I would hope that it would deeply encourage them, because it has a lot to offer. Many elements of this book are absolutely wonderful, and it will bless lots of people, but the theological imbalances in this book are a big enough problem that I feel a need to reduce my rating because of them and address the issues in detail.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
October 20, 2023
My best-kept secret from the internet is the fact that my body is crumbling.
I don't know why I refuse to talk about it over here. Maybe because it's embarrassing? Maybe because of my internalized ableism--it's not bad for anyone else to have weaknesses and illnesses and disabilities, but I have no grace for myself. I should be "strong." I should be able to do all of the things I did before injuries, sicknesses, and constant pain began to plague my body. I should absolutely not be stricken by the mental challenges that steal my sanity and rip at my ability to stay standing even if I'm not in physical pain.
Some days, I don't even remember what it's like to live entirely without pain.
This book found me where I am right now--dealing with a mild cold that has lingered for three weeks because my body doesn't have the energy to fight it off. I've been trying to stay alert and strong long enough to get through school deadlines as my body collapses, congestion in my weak lungs and my throat burning with a soreness that makes it hard to talk. I'm struggling to keep up with all of the things I want to do, the things that bring me joy, the things God has clearly called me to do.
But this book is a reminder: God has called me here, too. His hands are still here, even when I feel empty.
The reminder of the words, "The body of Christ, broken for you" in the Lord's Supper--THESE are the words that define my hope. I am not empty. I am not broken. I am only waiting. Because it is not just my brokenness. It is His strength, holding me. He is the Christ who was broken for me. His body also bears the permanent marks and scars of agony. But he didn't do a single thing to deserve that. He was God, God as spirit, and he gave that up to come here in a human body and hold me fast as I cry in my very very human pain.
I will never be alone. God bless KJ Ramsey for reminding me of this truth. He is never far.
Psalm 34:18
I don't know why I refuse to talk about it over here. Maybe because it's embarrassing? Maybe because of my internalized ableism--it's not bad for anyone else to have weaknesses and illnesses and disabilities, but I have no grace for myself. I should be "strong." I should be able to do all of the things I did before injuries, sicknesses, and constant pain began to plague my body. I should absolutely not be stricken by the mental challenges that steal my sanity and rip at my ability to stay standing even if I'm not in physical pain.
Some days, I don't even remember what it's like to live entirely without pain.
This book found me where I am right now--dealing with a mild cold that has lingered for three weeks because my body doesn't have the energy to fight it off. I've been trying to stay alert and strong long enough to get through school deadlines as my body collapses, congestion in my weak lungs and my throat burning with a soreness that makes it hard to talk. I'm struggling to keep up with all of the things I want to do, the things that bring me joy, the things God has clearly called me to do.
But this book is a reminder: God has called me here, too. His hands are still here, even when I feel empty.
The reminder of the words, "The body of Christ, broken for you" in the Lord's Supper--THESE are the words that define my hope. I am not empty. I am not broken. I am only waiting. Because it is not just my brokenness. It is His strength, holding me. He is the Christ who was broken for me. His body also bears the permanent marks and scars of agony. But he didn't do a single thing to deserve that. He was God, God as spirit, and he gave that up to come here in a human body and hold me fast as I cry in my very very human pain.
I will never be alone. God bless KJ Ramsey for reminding me of this truth. He is never far.
Psalm 34:18
August 16, 2020
Cannot stop thinking about exact quotes from this book. The author has a unique view on suffering as a therapist and sufferer of chronic pain and illness for 10 years. She starts the book talking about how our view on suffering is so American. It needs a triumph, or “I did x,y&z and now everything is all better!”. Our culture preaches, if we just work hard enough our pain will go away.... but most of the time, that’s just not reality- and then what!? I was ripe and needy for it, but her explanations of how God’s love is proven through Christ living as a human, sunk in more than it ever has before. As pain and brokenness are a reality for us in this world, we can either push through it or we can allow the brokenness to put us in a humble and dependent place before our Father & experience his joy and care in a way we couldn’t without persistent suffering. I really, really recommend this book.
September 7, 2020
This book wrecked me... I cried from the first sentences on. She put words to my pain and brought a new light to pain and suffering. She had such a beautiful way with words and wrote in such a way that it resonated with me the whole way through and she is making me see pain and suffering in a new way. I wish everyone I know would read this book. There is so much wisdom and insight as to how we as believers should be viewing the pain and suffering of other believers be it physical or mental. There is so much wisdom on how to come along side and not judge or fix or try and make things better that will never be made better this side of heaven. Please read and soak in her words if you are struggling with any kind of pain or suffering or if you know anyone that is having to walk that road. This might be one of my most favorite books I've read this year, maybe even ever...
May 13, 2020
“Church, if Jesus said his power is perfected in weakness, maybe we should spend less energy treating weakness as a problem to fix and more time bearing witness to it with expectation of seeing Christ.” (This Too Shall Last ARC 187)
This is the heart of KJ Ramsey’s debut work This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers. This is her prayer and her calling to the Church from within her own experience of suffering, which is the exact place she has discovered God’s unwavering presence.
In its pages Ramsey introduces us to a God we hear precious little about in the American church: a God who entered into the frailty of our bodies to redeem our suffering by being broken along with us. As Christians we become united with Christ, not as a shortcut to triumphant resurrection, but for the purpose of showing the world how the companionship of God and his people can transform our right now suffering into something beautiful.
As someone with my own history of lingering suffering, both physical and emotional, This Too Shall Last offers encouragement and admonishments that I know I will return to again and again. And if I could invite my friends and family members to read one book about suffering that would help them better relate to me and to the suffering in their own souls, this is the one I would recommend.
This Too Shall Last is personal and yet universal, accessible and yet deep, urgent and yet patient. In a culture that tells us we can avoid suffering if we just try hard enough, this is the book the Church needs.
This is the heart of KJ Ramsey’s debut work This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers. This is her prayer and her calling to the Church from within her own experience of suffering, which is the exact place she has discovered God’s unwavering presence.
In its pages Ramsey introduces us to a God we hear precious little about in the American church: a God who entered into the frailty of our bodies to redeem our suffering by being broken along with us. As Christians we become united with Christ, not as a shortcut to triumphant resurrection, but for the purpose of showing the world how the companionship of God and his people can transform our right now suffering into something beautiful.
As someone with my own history of lingering suffering, both physical and emotional, This Too Shall Last offers encouragement and admonishments that I know I will return to again and again. And if I could invite my friends and family members to read one book about suffering that would help them better relate to me and to the suffering in their own souls, this is the one I would recommend.
This Too Shall Last is personal and yet universal, accessible and yet deep, urgent and yet patient. In a culture that tells us we can avoid suffering if we just try hard enough, this is the book the Church needs.
April 1, 2020
It's curious (or straightforward) how perfect reading This Too Shall Last was at this particular moment in life. It's Lent, a time of releasing and receiving. It's spring, a silent suffering of hope continually dashed by cold and snow though I know warmth and new life are coming. It's this strange time of global pandemic, wreaking havoc on lungs and lives around the world, visiting consequences on economies, spiritual and mental and emotional and physical health, and the daily life of every single person in the world. As a global community, we are all suffering.
This Too Shall Last is one of the clearest books I've read about suffering. Ramsey writes from experience, battling one of those mysterious but devastating chronic illnesses. She liberally uses neuroscience, theology, Scripture, and psychology to unravel of the how of suffering. If you have suffered at any time, in any way, you will find affirmation here. Suffering is isolating, and "you, too?" makes all the difference.
"Suffering must be shared, witnessed, and heard to be experienced as the fertile soil of Christ's kingdom, the ground where God comes to find and remake us." (165)
I've experienced a Christian encounter that forces happiness over sorrow, and This Too Shall Last coalesced my scattered thoughts that this dichotomy isn't right. One only has to read through the Scriptures or glance at the history of the church to know that suffering is common. Yet, my church experience has proclaimed a different narrative. Stories of miraculous healings and God-given blessings were shouted from the rooftops while stories of faithfulness in trial that hadn't reached a happy ending were whispered. These stories aren't separate. They are all chapters in the single story of the Church. When we loudly share one type of story, while repressing another type, we miss out on the whole plot.
I could go on for hours about this, but I'll leave you with two things. First of all, read this book. It's truly wonderful and healing, and it's definitely one I'll return to as I continue to face suffering in my own life.
Secondly, as I feel this suffering/happiness dichotomy keenly in my own life, I consider the verse my parents chose in naming me:
Indeed, the Lord will comfort Zion;
He will comfort all her waste places.
And her wilderness He will make like Eden,
And her desert like the garden of the Lord;
Joy and gladness will be found in her,
Thanksgiving and sound of a melody.
Isaiah 51:3 NASB
All my life, the last two lines have been the emphasis, the impetus behind the name I wear. As I grow into Christ more fully, I recognize that gardens don't spring from deserts without labor. Wildernesses don't become Eden without tender care. The shoots of spring, the flowers of summer, the fruit of autumn don't come without the hibernation of winter. This verse reminds me of the final scene of Little Women, when the girls--now women--gather with their family in celebration, after they've endured death, despair, strife, and pain. At the end of that dark tunnel is joy, girded with the intimacy that comes through communal suffering. As God renovates this fallen world, deserts become gardens, wildernesses become Eden; he renames pain as joy, and wails as melodies.
A copy was provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
This Too Shall Last is one of the clearest books I've read about suffering. Ramsey writes from experience, battling one of those mysterious but devastating chronic illnesses. She liberally uses neuroscience, theology, Scripture, and psychology to unravel of the how of suffering. If you have suffered at any time, in any way, you will find affirmation here. Suffering is isolating, and "you, too?" makes all the difference.
"Suffering must be shared, witnessed, and heard to be experienced as the fertile soil of Christ's kingdom, the ground where God comes to find and remake us." (165)
I've experienced a Christian encounter that forces happiness over sorrow, and This Too Shall Last coalesced my scattered thoughts that this dichotomy isn't right. One only has to read through the Scriptures or glance at the history of the church to know that suffering is common. Yet, my church experience has proclaimed a different narrative. Stories of miraculous healings and God-given blessings were shouted from the rooftops while stories of faithfulness in trial that hadn't reached a happy ending were whispered. These stories aren't separate. They are all chapters in the single story of the Church. When we loudly share one type of story, while repressing another type, we miss out on the whole plot.
I could go on for hours about this, but I'll leave you with two things. First of all, read this book. It's truly wonderful and healing, and it's definitely one I'll return to as I continue to face suffering in my own life.
Secondly, as I feel this suffering/happiness dichotomy keenly in my own life, I consider the verse my parents chose in naming me:
Indeed, the Lord will comfort Zion;
He will comfort all her waste places.
And her wilderness He will make like Eden,
And her desert like the garden of the Lord;
Joy and gladness will be found in her,
Thanksgiving and sound of a melody.
Isaiah 51:3 NASB
All my life, the last two lines have been the emphasis, the impetus behind the name I wear. As I grow into Christ more fully, I recognize that gardens don't spring from deserts without labor. Wildernesses don't become Eden without tender care. The shoots of spring, the flowers of summer, the fruit of autumn don't come without the hibernation of winter. This verse reminds me of the final scene of Little Women, when the girls--now women--gather with their family in celebration, after they've endured death, despair, strife, and pain. At the end of that dark tunnel is joy, girded with the intimacy that comes through communal suffering. As God renovates this fallen world, deserts become gardens, wildernesses become Eden; he renames pain as joy, and wails as melodies.
A copy was provided by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
September 7, 2020
I really really loved this book. It spoke to a lot of things I've been wrestling with and considering recently. I'm not going to go into depth about my favorite parts or thoughts in this review though, mostly because I'm still processing it all and want time to lean into it before I spit any of it back out.
Basically, this book rewrites our response to suffering and struggles in a biblical way. It addressed some of my frustrations with the contemporary Christian culture's response to suffering. All in all, fantastic book. One I'll buy, re-read many times, take notes on, and give lots of intentional thought to.
Basically, this book rewrites our response to suffering and struggles in a biblical way. It addressed some of my frustrations with the contemporary Christian culture's response to suffering. All in all, fantastic book. One I'll buy, re-read many times, take notes on, and give lots of intentional thought to.
August 22, 2023
The back cover reads, "This is not a before and after story," and that sums up the message of this book. This is an eye-opening and challenging book about suffering.
March 5, 2021
I've been a lifelong reader. I've often reread my favorite books, but I've never read a book back-to-back until this one.
I just finished my second read, starting it again right after finishing it the first time. The first time, this book was incredible. I knew I needed to read it a second time immediately so it could sink into my bones. I read more slowly. I underlined. I journaled. And the messages I needed sank deeply within my being.
God is present. I am lovable, seen and accepted. God is powerful and provides, though that provision may not look the way I've been conditioned to believe it "should." God dwells within me and because of that, the joy and pain I experience in my body is holy.
I could say so much more, but I'll end with my favorite quote (yes, so hard to choose, but a favorite did rise to the surface) -
"Grace is not always rescue. It is often Christ's presence meeting us in weakness and sustaining us in sorrow. Grace is not just power to overcome. It is power to endure."
I just finished my second read, starting it again right after finishing it the first time. The first time, this book was incredible. I knew I needed to read it a second time immediately so it could sink into my bones. I read more slowly. I underlined. I journaled. And the messages I needed sank deeply within my being.
God is present. I am lovable, seen and accepted. God is powerful and provides, though that provision may not look the way I've been conditioned to believe it "should." God dwells within me and because of that, the joy and pain I experience in my body is holy.
I could say so much more, but I'll end with my favorite quote (yes, so hard to choose, but a favorite did rise to the surface) -
"Grace is not always rescue. It is often Christ's presence meeting us in weakness and sustaining us in sorrow. Grace is not just power to overcome. It is power to endure."
October 27, 2020
I found most helpful her real stories of suffering. Wherever she was vulnerable, I felt met. This book really describes the need of the church to hold and honour suffering, not just triumph. Very poetically written and helped me see suffering in a new light.
April 25, 2021
This book had such a profound impact on me that I needed some time before writing my review. KJ is one of my most favorite insta-bloggers (@kjramseywrites) and I was a part of her book launch team. Interestingly enough, as soon as I cracked this gem, I myself went into my very first season of chronic illness. It was as if God handed me an emotional and spiritual guidebook for walking through what is proving a long battle. Her words were a slow drip infusion into my system and many times felt like they were saving me. No book I’ve read prior has effectively created a space for suffering as KJ’s does, particularly for the type of suffering where there is no clear endpoint in sight. I will be giving this book to every person I know who is in a long term struggle, physical or not, and who needs a wide open berth in which to rest. KJ’s words offer an embrace and a rehabilitation I’ve not found among Christian self-help books on suffering before. This one is a new essential for my library.
January 17, 2022
I loved it all, but something about the Personal Presence chapter struck deep:
“Being heard rewires our brain.
For this to happen, we have to shape our silence into sound. The seed of sorrow must be sown to grow new life. We can’t swallow our discouragement and expect to sprout hope. We have to allow ourselves to speak aloud the suffering our culture says should stay private.”
This quote reverberates so deep within the well of my being that it will provide me with the fuel I need to allow me to do the work I want to do.
“Being heard rewires our brain.
For this to happen, we have to shape our silence into sound. The seed of sorrow must be sown to grow new life. We can’t swallow our discouragement and expect to sprout hope. We have to allow ourselves to speak aloud the suffering our culture says should stay private.”
This quote reverberates so deep within the well of my being that it will provide me with the fuel I need to allow me to do the work I want to do.
May 27, 2020
KJ Ramsey killed my highlighter.
From the first page until the last, I felt like I was being welcomed into an unfolding story of God's grace. KJ has a gift for stimulating the mind while softening the heart, and I am sure I will be revisiting the many truths of this book for years to come.
From the first page until the last, I felt like I was being welcomed into an unfolding story of God's grace. KJ has a gift for stimulating the mind while softening the heart, and I am sure I will be revisiting the many truths of this book for years to come.
August 8, 2020
Watch me briefly talk about this book: https://youtu.be/IhFU7-ec0vY
May 14, 2020
This Too Shall Last is equal parts memoir, therapy session, and theological treatise. It’s the memoir of a woman who experienced the sudden rug of health and vibrant youth pulled out from underneath her over ten years ago. It’s a therapy session with a licensed professional counselor. And it’s a theological treatise from a seminary graduate on the role of the suffering and weak in the church. At just over 200 pages, it’s a relatively short book and yet packed with engagement on a topic most would rather keep to a cozy paragraph — something neat and easily wrapped up with a tidy bow.
Ramsey starts the book with a pointed statement: “This is not a before and after story.”
It is unique to read such an honest book about this kind of chronic suffering written by someone smack in the middle of her own. Not looking back on her successful escape or triumphant victory – you too can beat suffering in these three easy steps – but, as one who admits that even during the writing of this book she was faced with really hard things and the inevitable question, “Do I really believe what I’m writing?”
The fact that she has to live out what she is selling here lends so much credibility and weight to what at times might feel impossible – like inviting others into what we would much rather hide and power through. This really challenged something I have swallowed over the entirety of my own 20 years of living with broken health – the glorification of bootstrapping and being “in constant pain, but no one would ever know it.”
Ramsey firmly posits, “Our stories can block us from grace when unacknowledged and forgotten, but when remembered with respect and care, they reveal the fingerprints of Christ’s incarnation in our lives.”
She states that the chronically ill begin to see pain as their enemy. I resonate. But I see an enemy just as significant in the day-to-day practical theologies of those who have entered into your Day 7,000 of chronic pain and on their Day 1 can’t comprehend all the days – and all the platitudes and frustrations and appointments and disappointments – that have come before. The knee-jerk reactions, shallow belief systems, pity instead of empathy, impatience and implication, and bad theology that bulldoze the sufferer just as we begin to see in Scripture, prayer, and the lives of long-dead saints the bittersweetness of the weight, worth, and gift that suffering has to offer.
This is why Ramsey’s book is so important not just as tangible therapeutic help for those with chronic suffering, but for the church as a whole – for pastors and small group leaders and prayer teams and anyone who wants to be a real spiritual friend to those in pain. Some in your pews and around the potluck table live with suffering that looks closely like Ramsey’s, with a hard-to-pronounce and serious diagnosis or the visible crippling of her body. But there are others whose suffering you won’t see as clearly, who may not share Ramsey’s gift for articulation and expression of the internal struggles and spiritual needs that accompany their own stories.
I implore you to let Ramsey guide you into her story, her theological framework of suffering, and the liminal space that might make you squirm a little. Welcome her many metaphors and anecdotes as an invitation into a story that is very likely shared by many around you who are desperate for you to show up for them with a more robust and realistic doctrine of suffering. Not just for their sake, but for the church as a body. Ramsey offers a thorough explanation for why “the church needs the embodied witness of weakness to fully inhabit the story of God’s Kingdom.”
One such story Ramsey shares that made me weepy was the day she went on a beautiful hike with strong and healthy friends. With a body that could not easily keep up, she found herself left behind while they all made it to the glorious waterfall destination. She says, “This is how suffering can feel. Like a forest whose light is threatening, a place we lose our companions. We panic as we wonder if we will ever find a way out. When suffering invades our lives, we feel lost, left behind by the church while they keep blissfully hiking toward a waterfall of grace we fear we’ll never reach.”
Ramsey invites us to name stories of weakness in the context of the whole story of Scripture, to turn towards our bodies with compassion as we look to the embodied life of Jesus who “didn’t merely identify himself with those who suffer, but became one who suffers,” to find the means of grace and power (in the Eucharist, spiritual disciplines, and elsewhere), and to reimagine a future not defined by the value-system of Western Christendom but by a suffering Christ.
Many of her arguments echo the conversations that led my husband and me into the Anglican tradition seven years ago. We needed the embodied focus on the entire Biblical narrative, to be nourished by the weekly Eucharist and confession, the incarnational focus on the physical, tangible, and active presence of God in our midst, and the stewardship of the mysteries of our faith.
May the stories of suffering around us be more than a ministry speedbump or potential success story for our prayer ministry. When we’re tempted to say (or at least imply), “I’m praying God fixes you soon so you can stop bumming us out and you can start pulling your weight,” may we pause and really think about what we’re suggesting.
In this much-needed book, Ramsey invites us into a better way to make sense of chronic suffering: “In Christ the suffering we want to escape becomes the place of more fully participating in the reality of the kingdom of God. Our union with Christ does not rescue us from our earthy existence. Rather it plants our feet on the arid soil of suffering and makes it fertile ground.”
Ramsey starts the book with a pointed statement: “This is not a before and after story.”
It is unique to read such an honest book about this kind of chronic suffering written by someone smack in the middle of her own. Not looking back on her successful escape or triumphant victory – you too can beat suffering in these three easy steps – but, as one who admits that even during the writing of this book she was faced with really hard things and the inevitable question, “Do I really believe what I’m writing?”
The fact that she has to live out what she is selling here lends so much credibility and weight to what at times might feel impossible – like inviting others into what we would much rather hide and power through. This really challenged something I have swallowed over the entirety of my own 20 years of living with broken health – the glorification of bootstrapping and being “in constant pain, but no one would ever know it.”
Ramsey firmly posits, “Our stories can block us from grace when unacknowledged and forgotten, but when remembered with respect and care, they reveal the fingerprints of Christ’s incarnation in our lives.”
She states that the chronically ill begin to see pain as their enemy. I resonate. But I see an enemy just as significant in the day-to-day practical theologies of those who have entered into your Day 7,000 of chronic pain and on their Day 1 can’t comprehend all the days – and all the platitudes and frustrations and appointments and disappointments – that have come before. The knee-jerk reactions, shallow belief systems, pity instead of empathy, impatience and implication, and bad theology that bulldoze the sufferer just as we begin to see in Scripture, prayer, and the lives of long-dead saints the bittersweetness of the weight, worth, and gift that suffering has to offer.
This is why Ramsey’s book is so important not just as tangible therapeutic help for those with chronic suffering, but for the church as a whole – for pastors and small group leaders and prayer teams and anyone who wants to be a real spiritual friend to those in pain. Some in your pews and around the potluck table live with suffering that looks closely like Ramsey’s, with a hard-to-pronounce and serious diagnosis or the visible crippling of her body. But there are others whose suffering you won’t see as clearly, who may not share Ramsey’s gift for articulation and expression of the internal struggles and spiritual needs that accompany their own stories.
I implore you to let Ramsey guide you into her story, her theological framework of suffering, and the liminal space that might make you squirm a little. Welcome her many metaphors and anecdotes as an invitation into a story that is very likely shared by many around you who are desperate for you to show up for them with a more robust and realistic doctrine of suffering. Not just for their sake, but for the church as a body. Ramsey offers a thorough explanation for why “the church needs the embodied witness of weakness to fully inhabit the story of God’s Kingdom.”
One such story Ramsey shares that made me weepy was the day she went on a beautiful hike with strong and healthy friends. With a body that could not easily keep up, she found herself left behind while they all made it to the glorious waterfall destination. She says, “This is how suffering can feel. Like a forest whose light is threatening, a place we lose our companions. We panic as we wonder if we will ever find a way out. When suffering invades our lives, we feel lost, left behind by the church while they keep blissfully hiking toward a waterfall of grace we fear we’ll never reach.”
Ramsey invites us to name stories of weakness in the context of the whole story of Scripture, to turn towards our bodies with compassion as we look to the embodied life of Jesus who “didn’t merely identify himself with those who suffer, but became one who suffers,” to find the means of grace and power (in the Eucharist, spiritual disciplines, and elsewhere), and to reimagine a future not defined by the value-system of Western Christendom but by a suffering Christ.
Many of her arguments echo the conversations that led my husband and me into the Anglican tradition seven years ago. We needed the embodied focus on the entire Biblical narrative, to be nourished by the weekly Eucharist and confession, the incarnational focus on the physical, tangible, and active presence of God in our midst, and the stewardship of the mysteries of our faith.
May the stories of suffering around us be more than a ministry speedbump or potential success story for our prayer ministry. When we’re tempted to say (or at least imply), “I’m praying God fixes you soon so you can stop bumming us out and you can start pulling your weight,” may we pause and really think about what we’re suggesting.
In this much-needed book, Ramsey invites us into a better way to make sense of chronic suffering: “In Christ the suffering we want to escape becomes the place of more fully participating in the reality of the kingdom of God. Our union with Christ does not rescue us from our earthy existence. Rather it plants our feet on the arid soil of suffering and makes it fertile ground.”
April 26, 2021
This book is an incredible reference guide and should be required reading for every Christian counselor, pastor and even medical professional who operates with a faith framework. This is not a light read, but one of the most reference filled books I’ve ever read. Her footnotes are plentiful and the books she talks about are probably also equally incredible resources.
It was challenging. It challenged my theology, my awareness of neuroscience (admittedly difficult for me to understand. I can’t seem to connect all the neurons... it is so abstract and hard for me).
She redefined the way I view suffering, 100%. It’s a book that I want to buy for people, it is that important. But again, I do see it as more of textbook/handbook style, and her theories and analyses should be taught in an educational setting.
It was challenging. It challenged my theology, my awareness of neuroscience (admittedly difficult for me to understand. I can’t seem to connect all the neurons... it is so abstract and hard for me).
She redefined the way I view suffering, 100%. It’s a book that I want to buy for people, it is that important. But again, I do see it as more of textbook/handbook style, and her theories and analyses should be taught in an educational setting.
September 9, 2020
This beautiful book is written by an author who not only understands suffering, but the theology and science to go with it. I learned a lot while also feeling seen and comforted. Highly recommend.
March 16, 2021
Words can’t come close to describe the exhale this book was to my heart. It’s one of those books with every other page dog-eared and filled with fluorescent pink highlighter. I feel so thankful for this book & KJ Ramsey’s talented, poetic way of describing the to-the-bone-weariness of suffering.
January 8, 2021
"Suffering brings us to the threshold of who we are becoming."
I originally heard this author on a therapy podcast, and appreciated both the way she put words together and her candor over her chronic illness. When I found out about her book, I was excited for what I felt was a much-needed perspective on a subject that's often skirted. After reading all the sample pages, I did something I've never done before... I preordered the book for myself and several of my chronically ill friends.
This is subject material I don't see discussed enough. Not only within church (which is the author's primary focus), but in the broader culture. Chronic pain makes indirectly-affected people feel uncomfortable and helpless. And learning to sit with those you care for in the ashes of their pain/loss/grief is an art and social skill--and sacrifice of empathy--that simply isn't taught. My dearest hope was that this work would be a tool of awareness for those who wish to be a supportive fixture in the lives of those for whom suffering is continuous... and that it might be a touchstone of understanding and contemplation for those who are afflicted.
"Courage empowers us to listen where we normally would defend, to witness pain instead of judging it, to acknowledge failure as room to grow, and to sit with discomfort like it's a dawn, not a death."
Just as advertised, this is not a story with a "happy ending". It's the scattered pieces of an account written in the active midst of suffering, with no natural end in sight. It is acknowledging anguish whilst grasping at hope. And it is written with Ramsey's deeply pensive and unusually lilting style. Her voice is strong, warmly gentle, and well developed--offering an abundance of quotable lines and noteworthy compositions. (Although, the prose occasionally waxes a bit purple.)
The book turned out to be a lot more theological in focus than I'd expected. There is a running thread of the author's personal story on how her autoimmune disease struck at her life and has progressed to a crippling state. But those portions, while vivid and engaging, also seem to be more of a fleeting jumping-off point for tangential essays on faith and neuroscience. Just as we get to better know a vulnerable bit about the author, we're pulled out of the memoir and into a sort of introspective pseudo-seminary. And as much as I generally enjoy the way she puts words together, I had to fight the temptation to skim until I finally came to another part of her personal story.
The result of the alternating structure is a kind of drive-and-drift effect on the pacing. Right about page 80-85, I started finding it harder to pick the book back up. Which I would have thought just a fluke... Except that this is around the same point where several of my chronically ill friends also seemed to get stuck and feel distanced from the writing.
I would still recommend this book to anyone attempting to better love and relate to those who are coping with a wide range of "invisible illnesses"... And I hope its very existence will spark discussion and spur more readily available material on the topic. If the author one day decides to compile a more complete memoir, I would be very much interested in reading it.
I just had trouble connecting with this one in its entirety.
Favorite Quotes:
*"We who are weak remind the entire church that salvation comes only through God and not through our self-sufficient striving."
*"We strain to experience God as with us and for us in our suffering because love is not simply a cognitive truth to assent to but a relationship to be reshaped by."
*"Often the pain that makes us feel most stuck is not our suffering; it is experiencing distress in the presence of people who expect us to get better faster than we can."
(If that last one doesn't sum up the worst element of chronic illness, I don't know what does.)
I originally heard this author on a therapy podcast, and appreciated both the way she put words together and her candor over her chronic illness. When I found out about her book, I was excited for what I felt was a much-needed perspective on a subject that's often skirted. After reading all the sample pages, I did something I've never done before... I preordered the book for myself and several of my chronically ill friends.
This is subject material I don't see discussed enough. Not only within church (which is the author's primary focus), but in the broader culture. Chronic pain makes indirectly-affected people feel uncomfortable and helpless. And learning to sit with those you care for in the ashes of their pain/loss/grief is an art and social skill--and sacrifice of empathy--that simply isn't taught. My dearest hope was that this work would be a tool of awareness for those who wish to be a supportive fixture in the lives of those for whom suffering is continuous... and that it might be a touchstone of understanding and contemplation for those who are afflicted.
"Courage empowers us to listen where we normally would defend, to witness pain instead of judging it, to acknowledge failure as room to grow, and to sit with discomfort like it's a dawn, not a death."
Just as advertised, this is not a story with a "happy ending". It's the scattered pieces of an account written in the active midst of suffering, with no natural end in sight. It is acknowledging anguish whilst grasping at hope. And it is written with Ramsey's deeply pensive and unusually lilting style. Her voice is strong, warmly gentle, and well developed--offering an abundance of quotable lines and noteworthy compositions. (Although, the prose occasionally waxes a bit purple.)
The book turned out to be a lot more theological in focus than I'd expected. There is a running thread of the author's personal story on how her autoimmune disease struck at her life and has progressed to a crippling state. But those portions, while vivid and engaging, also seem to be more of a fleeting jumping-off point for tangential essays on faith and neuroscience. Just as we get to better know a vulnerable bit about the author, we're pulled out of the memoir and into a sort of introspective pseudo-seminary. And as much as I generally enjoy the way she puts words together, I had to fight the temptation to skim until I finally came to another part of her personal story.
The result of the alternating structure is a kind of drive-and-drift effect on the pacing. Right about page 80-85, I started finding it harder to pick the book back up. Which I would have thought just a fluke... Except that this is around the same point where several of my chronically ill friends also seemed to get stuck and feel distanced from the writing.
I would still recommend this book to anyone attempting to better love and relate to those who are coping with a wide range of "invisible illnesses"... And I hope its very existence will spark discussion and spur more readily available material on the topic. If the author one day decides to compile a more complete memoir, I would be very much interested in reading it.
I just had trouble connecting with this one in its entirety.
Favorite Quotes:
*"We who are weak remind the entire church that salvation comes only through God and not through our self-sufficient striving."
*"We strain to experience God as with us and for us in our suffering because love is not simply a cognitive truth to assent to but a relationship to be reshaped by."
*"Often the pain that makes us feel most stuck is not our suffering; it is experiencing distress in the presence of people who expect us to get better faster than we can."
(If that last one doesn't sum up the worst element of chronic illness, I don't know what does.)
January 23, 2022
My path to K.J. Ramsey's "This Too Shall Last: Finding Grace When Suffering Lingers" was one of my more unique paths toward a reading experience. Despite the fact that the subject matter is one for which I have a passion, somehow "This Too Shall Last" had never landed on my radar.
Instead, it was Ramsey herself who led me to "This Too Shall Last," though one can easily call it one of those happy accidents. It is not uncommon for me to click on a Goodread profile when someone likes one of my reviews, comments, or other activities. In this case, Ramsey had liked a review I'd written for Rachel Held Evans' "Wholehearted Faith." As a result, I clicked on Ramsey's profile and saw that she was an author and found the book's brief description intriguing.
So, I searched. A quick search led to her own comment found on social media that the book was on sale that very day.
So, what the heck, I bought it.
While it's not uncommon for me to discover authors online, this was a rather unique way to discover a book that I'm embarrassed to admit I'd never heard of before Ramsey's likely casual click on a stranger's review.
Now then, on to the book itself.
With the opening pages of "This Too Shall Last," Ramsey lets us know that "this is not a before and after story." This is not, can I get an amen, yet another rah-rah Jesus story about someone staring deep into the pits of tragedy and coming out wildly triumphant like they conquered the Mt. Kilimanjaro of chronic illness.
If that's what you're looking for, well, this ain't it.
Instead, "This Too Shall Last" explores a much more common world where suffering lingers and pain is seemingly perpetual and one's faith is called into question, by oneself and by the church and by Christians, because we've grown into a society that has made an idol of effort and ease and far too often fails to live into the much bigger story.
The story begins with Ramsey herself, who was seemingly on a different journey as a young woman early in marriage with a promising career in front of her when seemingly out of nowhere her always healthy body began to hurt. Really hurt. While I'm sure it wasn't quite overnight, "This Too Shall Last" makes it clear that for Ramsey this was an abrupt change with dramatic and life-changing implications. Before this occurred, for Ramsey faith had made sense. God was good and her life was evidence of it - she inherited her mama's good looks, married a man called into ministry, was successful in college and moving toward a planned career as a therapist, and in some ways could be said to have been living the idyllic Christian life.
Then, "it" hit. "It" was illness that would become chronic illness. "It" took her from a physical active, vibrant, and supportive friend and peer to being a young woman who could often barely walk more than a few steps without help and who was the one often needing help and support.
This illness, for which there is no known cure, took Ramsey down a path where her future was in jeopardy, her new marriage was fragile, her finances were a mess, and the once obvious path toward a holy life took a major detour.
Then, God invited her into a bigger story and "This Too Shall Last" explores with compassion and intellectual insight the journey toward finding grace when suffering lingers and toward a theology that sees suffering not as a problem to be solved but as a story to be told.
As a paraplegic/double (technically triple) amputee living with spina bifida and a survivor of multiple significant traumas, I've seldom read a book like "This Too Shall Last," a book that builds community by the sole act of refusing to allow suffering to be that which separates us from God and from people. Recognizing, of course, that there will people who shy away from our suffering, Ramsey also is passionately clear that there will also be people who will sit down smack dab in the middle of it and simply "be" with us not out of condescension but out of belief in a bigger story for us and for themselves.
While I've been disabled from birth and experienced most of my significant traumas before the age of 25, it was only in late 2019 when my first hospitalization in 30 years resulted in my third amputation that I began to see that even I had turned effort and ease, triumph and being "able" into an idol. Instead of always honoring the needs and limitations and sufferings of my body, I had pushed to be recognized as an overcomer. While there is nothing wrong with overcoming, of course, there is something wrong with idolizing it.
I've always been a high achiever and of this I have zero regret. However, as this latest amputation significantly impacted my daily function and independence I was also beginning to realize that my suffering was not the problem. I was living in a culture that idolized triumphs and dramatic healings over the everyday journeys borne out of living transparently and sharing one another's sufferings. For the first time, I began looking for a faith community where I could be both the guy called into ministry AND the guy living with significant disabilities.
For the first time, perhaps, I realized that God when calling me was calling all of me into ministry and not just the "good" parts.
So, suffice it to say that Ramsey's "This Too Shall Last" created a safe space to feel this feelings and think these thoughts and cry more than a little bit and realize, just perhaps, that I'm not alone both in the suffering and in the determination that we can do better as a church in living with one another in it.
While a book centered around Ramsey's personal testimony alone would suffice, "This Too Shall Last" is actually much more. As a writer and clinician, Ramsey doesn't just share her own story but also explores these issues theologically and to a certain degree clinically and doesn't just "ask" for this cultural shift but presents a theological argument for it. "This Too Shall Last" is beautifully researched and resourced, each chapter ending with at times dozens of resources begging for follow-up and also affirming that these words are inspired and theologically credible.
Indeed, "This Too Shall Last" is not a beginning and end story. Instead, it finds holy in the middle of it all where we experience joys and sorrows, successes and failures and, yes, suffering. There was a point in my life when I did a lot of public speaking around my childhood sexual abuse. At one point, a youth group member asked me "How did you maintain your faith through it all?" My response came to mind as I wound down my time with "This Too Shall Last" - I said "There was a day when my childhood perpetrator locked me in a closet. I was there for hours and I knew for certain that once released I would once again experience assault. However, what I remember most vividly about that day is that I 100% felt God's presence with me in that closet. I literally had zero doubt. I decided then and there that if God would join me in that closet that somehow I would survive this and I would help guide others toward surviving their own closets."
For some, the healing never arrives. The suffering never ends. The trauma will always be front-and-center. Yet, these sufferings do reveal a God that immerses within our lives so completely that even when the suffering lasts love lasts longer.
Yet, the suffering is very real and very holy and such a vital part of our stories of how we experience God and faith and one another.
"This Too Shall Last" may be one of the very few books that never asked me to change who I am. Ramsey doesn't present quick and easy steps for a wonderful new life. She doesn't say "Give it all to God and your suffering will end." She doesn't offer solutions because, in the end, she doesn't us as problems to be solved but as human beings to be loved.
And so it is.
Instead, it was Ramsey herself who led me to "This Too Shall Last," though one can easily call it one of those happy accidents. It is not uncommon for me to click on a Goodread profile when someone likes one of my reviews, comments, or other activities. In this case, Ramsey had liked a review I'd written for Rachel Held Evans' "Wholehearted Faith." As a result, I clicked on Ramsey's profile and saw that she was an author and found the book's brief description intriguing.
So, I searched. A quick search led to her own comment found on social media that the book was on sale that very day.
So, what the heck, I bought it.
While it's not uncommon for me to discover authors online, this was a rather unique way to discover a book that I'm embarrassed to admit I'd never heard of before Ramsey's likely casual click on a stranger's review.
Now then, on to the book itself.
With the opening pages of "This Too Shall Last," Ramsey lets us know that "this is not a before and after story." This is not, can I get an amen, yet another rah-rah Jesus story about someone staring deep into the pits of tragedy and coming out wildly triumphant like they conquered the Mt. Kilimanjaro of chronic illness.
If that's what you're looking for, well, this ain't it.
Instead, "This Too Shall Last" explores a much more common world where suffering lingers and pain is seemingly perpetual and one's faith is called into question, by oneself and by the church and by Christians, because we've grown into a society that has made an idol of effort and ease and far too often fails to live into the much bigger story.
The story begins with Ramsey herself, who was seemingly on a different journey as a young woman early in marriage with a promising career in front of her when seemingly out of nowhere her always healthy body began to hurt. Really hurt. While I'm sure it wasn't quite overnight, "This Too Shall Last" makes it clear that for Ramsey this was an abrupt change with dramatic and life-changing implications. Before this occurred, for Ramsey faith had made sense. God was good and her life was evidence of it - she inherited her mama's good looks, married a man called into ministry, was successful in college and moving toward a planned career as a therapist, and in some ways could be said to have been living the idyllic Christian life.
Then, "it" hit. "It" was illness that would become chronic illness. "It" took her from a physical active, vibrant, and supportive friend and peer to being a young woman who could often barely walk more than a few steps without help and who was the one often needing help and support.
This illness, for which there is no known cure, took Ramsey down a path where her future was in jeopardy, her new marriage was fragile, her finances were a mess, and the once obvious path toward a holy life took a major detour.
Then, God invited her into a bigger story and "This Too Shall Last" explores with compassion and intellectual insight the journey toward finding grace when suffering lingers and toward a theology that sees suffering not as a problem to be solved but as a story to be told.
As a paraplegic/double (technically triple) amputee living with spina bifida and a survivor of multiple significant traumas, I've seldom read a book like "This Too Shall Last," a book that builds community by the sole act of refusing to allow suffering to be that which separates us from God and from people. Recognizing, of course, that there will people who shy away from our suffering, Ramsey also is passionately clear that there will also be people who will sit down smack dab in the middle of it and simply "be" with us not out of condescension but out of belief in a bigger story for us and for themselves.
While I've been disabled from birth and experienced most of my significant traumas before the age of 25, it was only in late 2019 when my first hospitalization in 30 years resulted in my third amputation that I began to see that even I had turned effort and ease, triumph and being "able" into an idol. Instead of always honoring the needs and limitations and sufferings of my body, I had pushed to be recognized as an overcomer. While there is nothing wrong with overcoming, of course, there is something wrong with idolizing it.
I've always been a high achiever and of this I have zero regret. However, as this latest amputation significantly impacted my daily function and independence I was also beginning to realize that my suffering was not the problem. I was living in a culture that idolized triumphs and dramatic healings over the everyday journeys borne out of living transparently and sharing one another's sufferings. For the first time, I began looking for a faith community where I could be both the guy called into ministry AND the guy living with significant disabilities.
For the first time, perhaps, I realized that God when calling me was calling all of me into ministry and not just the "good" parts.
So, suffice it to say that Ramsey's "This Too Shall Last" created a safe space to feel this feelings and think these thoughts and cry more than a little bit and realize, just perhaps, that I'm not alone both in the suffering and in the determination that we can do better as a church in living with one another in it.
While a book centered around Ramsey's personal testimony alone would suffice, "This Too Shall Last" is actually much more. As a writer and clinician, Ramsey doesn't just share her own story but also explores these issues theologically and to a certain degree clinically and doesn't just "ask" for this cultural shift but presents a theological argument for it. "This Too Shall Last" is beautifully researched and resourced, each chapter ending with at times dozens of resources begging for follow-up and also affirming that these words are inspired and theologically credible.
Indeed, "This Too Shall Last" is not a beginning and end story. Instead, it finds holy in the middle of it all where we experience joys and sorrows, successes and failures and, yes, suffering. There was a point in my life when I did a lot of public speaking around my childhood sexual abuse. At one point, a youth group member asked me "How did you maintain your faith through it all?" My response came to mind as I wound down my time with "This Too Shall Last" - I said "There was a day when my childhood perpetrator locked me in a closet. I was there for hours and I knew for certain that once released I would once again experience assault. However, what I remember most vividly about that day is that I 100% felt God's presence with me in that closet. I literally had zero doubt. I decided then and there that if God would join me in that closet that somehow I would survive this and I would help guide others toward surviving their own closets."
For some, the healing never arrives. The suffering never ends. The trauma will always be front-and-center. Yet, these sufferings do reveal a God that immerses within our lives so completely that even when the suffering lasts love lasts longer.
Yet, the suffering is very real and very holy and such a vital part of our stories of how we experience God and faith and one another.
"This Too Shall Last" may be one of the very few books that never asked me to change who I am. Ramsey doesn't present quick and easy steps for a wonderful new life. She doesn't say "Give it all to God and your suffering will end." She doesn't offer solutions because, in the end, she doesn't us as problems to be solved but as human beings to be loved.
And so it is.
January 20, 2021
If you have read The Body Keeps the Score, you need to read this book.
If you tell people, "I can't think of anything I need right now, but thanks," you need to read this book.
If see nothing but shame in the mirror each morning. If wish people could actually see you out in public, but yet remain terrified of what would happen if they did, if you are certain that you are absolutely alone -
Read this book.
Everything we tell ourselves about who we are has been predicated on the notions of individualism, on the message of the American Dream, and the myth of the prosperity gospel. It is all wrong.
We must rewire our brains to remember that suffering is good. That suffering is where we find each other the most. We must look for and seek out community, intentionally invading and inviting each other into spaces that we have been trained to keep locked and private.
We only find out who Christ is, the fullness and trueness of His essence, by experiencing Him in community. We cannot do the "Christ" in Christianity alone, no matter our bootstraps look like.
Read this book. Please. Read this book.
If you tell people, "I can't think of anything I need right now, but thanks," you need to read this book.
If see nothing but shame in the mirror each morning. If wish people could actually see you out in public, but yet remain terrified of what would happen if they did, if you are certain that you are absolutely alone -
Read this book.
Everything we tell ourselves about who we are has been predicated on the notions of individualism, on the message of the American Dream, and the myth of the prosperity gospel. It is all wrong.
We must rewire our brains to remember that suffering is good. That suffering is where we find each other the most. We must look for and seek out community, intentionally invading and inviting each other into spaces that we have been trained to keep locked and private.
We only find out who Christ is, the fullness and trueness of His essence, by experiencing Him in community. We cannot do the "Christ" in Christianity alone, no matter our bootstraps look like.
Read this book. Please. Read this book.
January 21, 2021
This may very well be the best book I read all year. It was SUCH a timely encouragement for me, and I found myself underlining on almost every page. K. J. writes with a clear personal understanding of what it is like to face chronic illness, and that understanding itself brought me to tears more than once. The concept of Jesus loving even the inconvenient parts of my body hit me hard. Wow, so hard to wrap my mind around that one! And I am still pondering the points about what sufferers have to contribute to the church - that encouraged me so much.
I wish I could buy copies of this book for all my friends who are facing chronic illness or lengthy seasons of discouragement - and even those who are not. This is a message all of God’s people need to hear and take to heart.
I wish I could buy copies of this book for all my friends who are facing chronic illness or lengthy seasons of discouragement - and even those who are not. This is a message all of God’s people need to hear and take to heart.
August 16, 2020
This book stands out from other Christian books on suffering. I love how she incorporated aspects of neuroscience, as opposed to completely omitting it. She rightfully calls out the church for the American culture seeping in by desiring to have a success story for suffering. In my worst days, I have experienced some guilt or unmet desires when not having this awesome story of healing. Some of that pressure is from the culture, not scripture. I believe because the author suffers from chronic illness herself, I felt very seen by this book. I would recommend for others to read to gain a better understanding of chronic illness and its effects on our relationship with God and the church.
May 26, 2021
I give this book above and beyond five stars for its eloquence, raw vulnerability, wisdom, and enlightenment. This is the first time I've come across a voice that so aptly offers grace amid suffering. As human beings, suffering and joy are inevitable but what a gift to still feel beloved when pain continues (or at least be encouraged to believe, over and over again!). One of my favorite quotes: "...courage is not a possession but a practice." (p 213) A hopeful and beautifully written treatise.
July 12, 2020
I had high expectations for this book as I have been blessed by KJ’s social media presence for a few years now. This book exceeded them. KJ writes with grace and truth. She embraces science and scripture and invites her readers on a grace-filled journey to do the same. The world needs this book.
March 7, 2021
This book has forever reframed my perspective on what it means to live the both/and life.
April 16, 2024
I loved this book. It's so easy to create a divide between the physical body and the soul, but we are one being and I liked how she included both in her theology of suffering. I also so appreciated how she talked about the need to suffer well in community- we aren't meant to do this life alone! My only caution was there were times I felt she elevated the physical body too highly.
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