The Gift of Pain

Pain is not something most of us would count as a blessing. Most, if given the choice, would prefer to never need to take painkillers.

However, Dr. Paul Brand, a British surgeon and author of the book The Gift of Pain, offers a uniquely different perspective, arguing that pain is a gift that none of us want, and yet none of us can do without.

He invites us to consider a scenario where we might not feel our hand burning or realise our finger has been severed, due to a lack of the pain-based warning system that prompts us to take action.

The boy who lost his flesh

Dr. Brand dedicated his life to working with leprosy patients in India and the United States. He recounts one of the most bizarre cases he encountered — a young child in India afflicted with leprosy who awoke each morning to find his flesh deteriorating, occasionally even losing fingertips, without understanding why.

To uncover the cause, Brand and his team decided to monitor the child continuously. They were horrified to discover that, on each night, a rat would sneak into the room and gnaw on the child’s body. The child felt no pain due to leprosy’s symptom of numbing the sensation of pain, rendering him unaware of the harm being inflicted upon him.

Dr. Brand reflected on this, emphasising how, without the natural alarm of pain, one might unwittingly contribute to their own demise. He concluded that pain, often perceived as an adversary, is indeed one of God’s greatest gifts to humanity.

What are the blessings of pain?

To fully recognise the blessings that pain can offer, we need to first understand its distinct phases.

Pain passes through three key stages:

The first stage might be the sharp pang from an injury, the sting of a failure, or the ache of a relationship ending. Next is the message, which is how our brain interprets the situation that has caused the pain. The final and most crucial stage is the response, the actions taken by the individual experiencing the pain.

This last phase is pivotal because people typically react in one of two ways: either a response of failure, where the pain descends into something more destructive (agony through blaming, complaining, wailing, criticising, doubting and self-loathing), or a response of success (where the individual transforms the pain into a chance for learning, growth and a discovery of greater alternatives).

This is precisely what makes pain such a tremendous gift, because it is the only life situation that prompts people to make changes. When life glides smoothly, people tend to settle into comfort, leading to stagnation and eventual decline. However, when confronted with pain, individuals are forced to make changes they never would have otherwise made or even contemplated as options.

Consider how many people had discovered newfound wealth after the pain of financial loss prompted them to explore uncharted opportunities. Or those who, following the agony of job loss, pursued a new craft that later became the highlight of their lives. Similarly, many have turned to fitness after enduring the pain of an injury.

How often have you found yourself forming a better circle of friends after the disappointment of being let down by others? Many parents have also been pushed to rediscover their duties as mentors of their children, following the pain of deviance that befell them.

Similarly, how many people find their calling in life as believers, and transform from average to exceptional, from layman to reformer, and from Muslim to Mu’min, often after the pain of losing a loved one?

How true were the words of the poet who said:

فَلَرُبَّمَا كَانَ الدُّخُولُ إِلَى العُلا ** وَالْمَجْدِ مِنْ بَوَّابَةِ الأَحْزَانِ

So perhaps entry to greatness and glory is through the gateway of sorrows.” [1]

Pain and the wisdom of Allah

With this framing of pain, several truths that often become sources of doubt, particularly when we witness or endure pain, are laid bare.

One such truth is that pain does not necessarily signify Allah’s displeasure, but can signify the opposite. Do not judge Allah’s expression of love and care with how you, as a human, express love and care.

When you love, you give immediate comfort, even if it causes lasting pain. When Allah loves, He gives immediate tests in order to qualify you for lasting joy.

The Prophet ﷺ said,

إِنَّ الْعَبْدَ إِذَا سَبَقَتْ لَهُ مِنَ اللَّهِ مَنْزِلَةٌ، لَمْ يَبْلُغْهَا بِعَمَلِهِ ابْتَلَاهُ اللَّهُ فِي جَسَدِهِ، أَوْ فِي مَالِهِ، أَوْ فِي وَلَدِهِ ثُمَّ صَبَّرَهُ عَلَى ذَلِكَ حَتَّى يُبْلِغَهُ الْمَنْزِلَةَ الَّتِي سَبَقَتْ لَهُ مِنَ اللَّهِ تَعَالَى

If Allah has decreed a specific grade in Jannah for a servant of His despite not possessing the sufficient good deeds for it, Allah tests him in his body, wealth, or children, and then inspires him to be patient and so qualifies him for the grade that Allah has decreed for him.” [2]

Whilst you may wonder why you’ve been left to struggle, seemingly abandoned and abhorred by your Lord, the reality is that this very struggle is forging you in ways beyond compare.

Example of the caterpillar and butterfly

The analogy of the struggling butterfly is illustrative. Initially a caterpillar, it eventually encases itself within a cocoon, preparing to transform. When it is ready to emerge as a butterfly, it faces the challenge of breaking through the cocoon.

The process involves a significant struggle as it attempts to spread its wings and fly away. During this time, it might be tempting to intervene, perhaps by cutting the cocoon to ease the butterfly’s pain.

However, such well-meaning interference is almost always detrimental, as the struggle is crucial for the butterfly’s development; it triggers the release of a chemical essential for strengthening its wings. The effort to escape the cocoon pumps fluid into the wings, aiding in their expansion.

By intervening and allowing a comfortable release, the butterfly is left with underdeveloped wings, condemning it to a life grounded, never able to fly.

Indeed, our greatest growth comes after our greatest pain, and therefore pain, for a believer, is not a sign of Allah’s displeasure.

Illusion of the problem of evil

The aforementioned framing of pain also helps us understand the so-called “problem of evil”, which causes droves of people to lose faith at the sight or experience of pain.

Indeed, Allah may impoverish you in order to enrich you, He may deprive you in order to give you, He may break your heart in order to cure it, and He may give death in order to give life. Similarly, He may close a door in your life, whether by way of death, loss of wealth, breakdown of relationships, or their likes, a pain that is meant to push you further down the corridor of doors, helping you to explore ones that you were previously unwilling to consider.

Peeling back the layers of pain reveals networks of wisdom, opportunity, and grace. So, through that lens, we may reword it from the “problem of evil” to the “opportunities and gift of pain”.

Patience develops into gratitude

With the above said, it becomes very much possible to elevate your response to pain.

Whilst it is true that we do not invite pain, nor do we celebrate it, with this Islamic framing we know exactly how to deal with it. Instead of merely exhibiting patience, or potentially even finding contentment — both of which are noble responses — you may reach a state of gratitude for the growth and opportunities that pain brings.

How is this so? The Prophet ﷺ said,

إذا مات ولد العبد قال الله لملائكته: قبضتم ولد عبدي؟ فيقولون: نعم، فيقول: قبضتم ثمرة فؤاده؟ فيقولون: نعم، فيقول: ماذا قال عبدي؟ فيقولون: حمدك واسترجع، فيقول الله: ابنوا لعبدي بيتاً في الجنة وسموه بيت الحمد

When a servant’s child passes away, Allah asks His angels, ‘Have you taken the child of My servant?’ (though Allah is already aware). The angels reply, ‘Yes.’ Then He asks, ‘Have you taken the delight of his heart?’ They answer, ‘Yes.’ He then asks, ‘What did My servant say?’ The angels respond, ‘He praised You and said ‘to Allah we belong and to Him we shall return.’ Allah then commands, ‘Construct a house for My servant in Paradise and name it the House of Praise.’” [3]

Observe how this grieving individual will have successfully managed his immense pain by combining two powerful practices:

1. Hamd (praising Allah)
2. Having a higher sense of meaning and purpose, encapsulated in his declaration, “To Allah we belong and to Him we shall return.”

Living with purpose boosts our capacity to endure the most harrowing circumstances.

Meaning changes how we view pain

Auschwitz survivor Viktor Frankl recounts in his memoir, Man’s Search for Meaning, how those who had lost all hope were the quickest to die — in that their bodies could not put up defences to try and cope, withstand, and persevere. For them, there was nothing left to live for.

In contrast, he notes how those who had a greater purpose that carried them onward through difficult conditions survived. For some, it was a child who was sheltered away in some distant country and awaiting liberation. For others, it was a spouse or family member. For others yet, it was an unfinished task or creative work that required their unique contribution.

Frankl refers several times to the words of Nietzsche:

He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” [4]

The final moments of Ja’fār ibn Abi Tālib, the cousin of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, epitomises this.

During the battle of Mu’ta, the Muslim army was vastly outnumbered, facing a Roman force of 200,000 with only 3,000 fighters. When the flag-bearer, Zaid ibn Hāritha, fell in battle, Ja’fār took up the flag and fought relentlessly. Unyielding to exhaustion, he dismounted and disabled his horse, signalling his commitment to stand his ground with no thoughts of retreat.

As the battle intensified, he fought valiantly until his right arm was severed. Undeterred, he then gripped the flag in his left hand, until that too was cut off. Finally, he held the flag against his chest with his bleeding stumps, continuing to fight until he was martyred. [5]

Indeed, he who has a why can bear almost any how. So, what are the “whys” of a Muslim?

Allah says,

إِنَّ اللَّهَ اشْتَرَى مِنَ الْمُؤْمِنِينَ أَنْفُسَهُمْ وَأَمْوَالَهُمْ بِأَنَّ لَهُمُ الْجَنَّةَ

Allah has indeed purchased from the believers their lives and wealth in exchange for Paradise…” [6]

We can endure what others cannot

This is the secret behind the miraculous ability of Muslims to endure the most painful “hows”; they possess the most powerful “whys”: nearness to Allah, happiness in Dunya, and a home in Jannah.

This theory is not just conceptual, but has been demonstrated practically in Palestine. Their sense of purpose and meaning emanates from beneath the rubble and radiates from every sentence they utter. Their ‘aqīda has fuelled them to view pain as a gift, death as martyrdom, and life — for those who are spared the genocide — as honour and victory.

Pain, therefore, is not an enemy which we must conquer, but a friend which, when it arrives, we know how to frame it, embrace it, and work it towards our growth and advantage.

Consider how many doors would remain closed if it weren’t for pain, how many double standards and how much hypocrisy would stay concealed, and how much maturity we may have missed out on, if it weren’t for pain. In fact, consider the many levels in Jannah that cannot be reached merely through prayer, fasting, charity, Hajj, knowledge, or activism, but by the exercise of patience during times of pain.

Avoiding necessary pain may make it return

Most people in life are slowed down or stopped by the slightest inconvenience. Many will dedicate their lives to Islam and the causes of justice on the days that they “feel like it”, so long as it is convenient.

But you know what happens if you were to approach work with the same attitude; joblessness within days and homelessness within weeks. Commitment to Islam is not only if and when “everything is going right”, it’s regardless of your mood, circumstance, and pain.

When you hit the snooze button in the morning, you’re escaping the pain of an early rise, a temporary escape that will inevitably find you when your success later on in life is only partial.

When you indulge in excessive gaming or endless social media browsing, you are evading the pain of hard work and responsibility, a pain that will inevitably catch up with you when you realise that you are only half the person that you could have been.

When you choose to remain silent on critical issues like al-Aqsa and Palestine, regardless of your justifications, you are fleeing from the pain of speaking truth to power, and will be held accountable by people today, and from Allah, Lord of the Worlds, tomorrow.

When you delay contemplating the Islamic project to which you will dedicate your life, you are dodging the pain of self-confrontation, a pain that was only temporarily buried, but will be unearthed on the Day of Reckoning when you see the highest grades in Jannah being entered by others.

The essence of this message is clear: any necessary pain you avoid today, whether it pertains to your duties to Allah, your parents, your masjid, your community — both Muslim and non-Muslim — or the broader Ummah, understand that the pain hasn’t vanished. It’s merely been postponed. When it returns, it will do so with only greater intensity.

Therefore, as Dr. Paul Brand said, pain is one of God’s most profound gifts to humanity, because without pain, there is no awareness. And without awareness, there is no growth. And without growth, there is no happiness.

Source: Islam21c

Notes

[1] Abdulrahman al-‘Ashmawi

[2] Abu Dāwūd

[3] Ahmad, on the authority of Abu Mūsa al-Ash’ari

[4] https://www.realtimeperformance.com/5-lessons-from-viktor-frankls-book-mans-search-for-meaning/

[5] al-Sirat al-Nabawiyyah of Ibn Hisham (3/ 333)

[6] al-Qur’an, 9:111