The Problem of Evil
One of the most common and emotionally charged objections to belief in God is the reality of suffering and evil in the world. It’s not just a philosophical issue—it’s a deeply human one. We witness tragedy, injustice, and pain, and we can’t help but ask: Where is God in all of this?
Beneath that question are usually one of two underlying assumptions (if not both):
First, that if God exists, bad things wouldn’t happen—so the presence of suffering is evidence that He doesn’t exist.
Second, that if God does exist and still allows bad things to happen, then He cannot be truly good.
Let’s explore both assumptions in depth.
(1) God cannot exist because bad things happen (considering Intelligent Design):
Well, for starters, the existence of one thing doesn’t necessarily disprove the existence of another. Most people would agree that this statement on its own lacks persuasive weight. An atheist might find Intelligent Design illogical, but rejecting it solely because “bad things happen” doesn’t hold up under closer examination. But this objection does raise an interesting point: the universal human assumption that there is a difference between “good” and “bad.”
Evolutionists, according to their framework, understand morality as relative. In other words, there is no “good” or “bad”; morality is merely a function of survival. So, if one wants to be consistent within this worldview, then even something as horrific as murder can’t be labeled evil (at least, in any absolute sense). Sure, it may be “wrong” according to societal norms or standards—but ultimately, it’s no more cosmically wrong or significant than stealing a wallet. The difference lies only in the consequences, not in the morality of the act itself.
This opens up a fascinating discussion about ethics. Nearly everyone, across cultures and generations, agrees on certain moral principles—freedom, love, fairness, justice—even if we disagree on how to apply them. That widespread, intuitive sense of right and wrong, and our deep emotional reactions to injustice and cruelty, seem to point to something beyond an evolutionary use.
Evolution doesn’t explain why people mourn tragedies they’ve never experienced personally and are unlikely to. Consider the Holocaust, the recent and tragic Kerrville, Texas flooding, or 9/11. Why do we feel real grief and anger over tragedies, even when they happen in places and times far removed from us? Why do we empathize and grieve deeply with people we’ve never met? Who are those victims to us? If survival were the only “moral” compass, we’d surely feel nothing at all. And yet, we do.
Now, you could still say it’s just about survival, arguing our reactions are just culturally conditioned or reflect our own fears of withoutness —but reactions, in general, still carry no survival weight. Fear, in the moment or in a logical cautionary sense, sure. But grieving with parents in Kerrville when I have no children of my own? Or when I’m alone, moved to tears online over the stories people share, loved ones lost that I never knew, soldiers coming home, or families reunited?
I’d wager the emotion we feel over the brokenness in this world doesn’t disprove God’s existence. If anything, it affirms it. Our outrage at evil isn’t a glitch in the system—it’s a signal that we believe there is a standard of goodness and our world is falling short of it. And where there’s a standard, there must be a standard-giver.
I’d simply ask you to consider this: if our goal as thoughtful, truth-seeking people is to understand our origin and the nature of this world, why then do we often dismiss the metaphysical altogether? Things like emotion, conscience, and philosophy may not be measurable or neatly understood, but they undeniably shape the human experience. I’m not suggesting we rely solely on these things—but it seems reasonable to weigh the whole of our existence, not just the physical and observable aspects.
(2) God cannot be good because bad things happen (the case for the Christian God):
This assumption, I feel, is far more complex than the first to address–mainly because it requires breaking down a lot of foundational Christian topics. Naturally, there will be things left unsaid as I aim to keep this shorter to maintain attention. But I do plan to write a full explanation soon of the Creation / Fall / Redemption arc in Scripture (which informs much of the Christian language / topics we’ll touch on here).
This topic is a real struggle for a lot of people (myself included, at times). Plenty of questions arise when we consider the “goodness” of God, and these are the two that used to plague my mind most often:
If God created all things, does that mean He is the source of evil too?
If God is all powerful, why does He not intervene in the face of evil?
It’s notably hard to grasp how a God who’s powerful enough to stop suffering supposedly chooses not to. In what world is that loving, right? It’s an intimidating topic and for good reason – it displays the gravity of the situation. But both of these questions start with false assumptions:
That evil is created.
That God is inactive.
We tend to operate from the belief that a good God would intervene the same way we would (which places us in a morally superior position to God Himself – an issue). But I’d argue that this very question–this deep ache for resolution–once again points not away from God but directly toward Him. Let’s start with some biblical context before addressing each question:
The Bible teaches that humans are made “in the image of God”—meaning we carry a unique reflection of His nature, including things like compassion, reason, a desire for justice, and a longing for love. That sounds hopeful, until you stop to wonder: If we reflect God, and yet we commit evil…what exactly does that mean? Isn’t that a contradiction?
And to complicate things more—just a second ago I said that our sense of injustice points to a God who also cares about justice. But then if we humans, who are supposed to reflect God, commit injustice...does that reflection break down? Or are we back to square one, wondering if God Himself must be unjust? This is where it becomes necessary to ask: Where does evil actually come from? And how does it relate to a good God?
Answering: “If God created all things, does that mean He is the source of evil too?”
Let me put it plainly: evil is not something God created. The war between good and evil is not like Star Wars–there’s no universal balance that needs to be preserved. Evil, biblically speaking, is the absence of good, not its equal counterpart. Just as darkness is not its own entity but rather the absence of light, evil is the absence of God. It’s what remains when God’s intended order and presence is denied.
That absence–when we turn from God’s design–is what Scripture calls sin. Sin isn’t just breaking rules; it’s breaking relationship. It’s choosing to operate on our own terms rather than trust the One who made us. And because God is the Creator of life, that separation leads to death–not just physically but spiritually. When you disconnect from the Source of life itself, what else could follow? So, the real issue isn’t just that evil exists–no, the “problem” we often assign to God is actually the freedom He gave us in the first place: the freedom to choose love as he’s defined it or to reject it.
“Okay, so God didn’t ‘create’ evil…but He still allows it. Isn’t that just as bad?”
This is a great thought and a critical question to ask! Here’s a solid parallel to start.
As a teacher, I don’t duct tape my students’ mouths shut to prevent them from saying disrespectful or unkind things. That would be controlling and cruel, even if it technically stopped the problem. Instead, I tell them clearly what my expectations are, what the consequences will be if my expectations aren’t met, and then I let them make an informed decision. The result depends on their action—not my “inaction.”
God operates similarly. In the beginning of Scripture, we read about the first humans (Adam and Eve). God laid out the structure of the world, set boundaries for how to interact with it, and warned them of the consequences of stepping outside His boundaries. And just like the teacher-student scenario, God allowed them to make a real choice. And when they did, those consequences unfolded—not because He’s cruel, but because the nature of rebellion is inherently harmful.
“But why is disobedience harmful in the first place?”
Because it’s not what we were built for. It’s like putting diesel in a car that runs on unleaded. Or using your electronics underwater. It doesn’t matter how sincere the effort was—if you operate outside your design, things break. Why does a child cry when he touches a hot stove? Because fire burns. Why does sin harm us? Because we were made to live differently. Disobedience damages because it runs counter to our design. It’s not arbitrary—it’s natural law.
Answering: “If God is all powerful, why does He not intervene in the face of evil?
“So, God just lets us experience the consequences of our sin and that’s it? No room for growth? No divine intervention or mercy? He may not be the source of evil, but it’s clear He doesn’t care for humanity’s wellbeing.”
When I give rules to my students, it’s not because I feel a need to control their every move. It’s because I care deeply about their wellbeing. I want them to thrive, and boundaries are part of that. But when students make choices that break those boundaries, I allow consequences to run their course – not because I want them to suffer, but because, in their freedom, they’ve chosen a path that leads there. (Side note: I think people choose destructive paths for far more complicated reasons than we often give them credit for—trauma, fear, confusion, survival, shame. That’s another article for another time. But it’s worth noting the issue isn’t usually as simple as “someone just wanted to do evil.”)
If I were indifferent as a teacher—if I didn’t care how my students acted or how their choices impacted themselves or others—I wouldn’t be just or loving. I’d be neglectful.
And this is where things get tricky. We’re quick to accuse God of indifference when He allows suffering. But when He does intervene—confronting sin, exposing injustice, calling out wrongdoing—we’re just as quick to call Him judgmental or cruel. See the dilemma? We want God to step in when we’re hurting, but turn a blind eye when we’re the ones causing harm (though we may rebrand it as something else). That double standard reveals something deeper: much of our frustration with God stems from how His authority challenges our autonomy.
This brings us to a key point: not all suffering is the same, and God responds to each kind—just not always how or when we expect. Most suffering falls into one of three categories:
Suffering caused by our own actions (personal choices, sin, self-sabotage)
Suffering caused by the actions of others (abuse, betrayal, injustice, war)
Suffering caused by an “out of order” creation (natural disasters, disease, death)
“So, what does God do about it?”
If God is truly good and just, He can’t ignore sin. But if He’s also loving and merciful, He wouldn’t abandon us to it either. This is what makes the Christian view of God radically unique. Instead of distancing Himself (as God is often depicted) from our suffering, He engages human with it on multiple levels:
Individually (through salvation and sanctification)
Communally (through the Church, people called to live out healing, justice, and love)
Eternally (through the promise of final restoration, where all wrongs are fully made right)
Let’s briefly unpack each. (These are heavy topics, and each deserves its own post. I’ll try to avoid overly “churchy” language here, but if something feels unfamiliar, feel free to Google it, ask in the comments, or message me directly—I’d love to talk.)
(1) On an Individual Level – Salvation & Sanctification
As mentioned earlier, sin isn’t just bad behavior—it’s a broken condition that separates us from the source of life. And separation from God inevitably leads to suffering and death. But from the beginning, God’s plan has been redemption. The Bible tells a rescue story:
In short, God entered our world through Jesus Christ—taking on the consequence of sin (death) to offer restored relationship in its place. Through Jesus’ death and resurrection, we’re not only forgiven, we’re reconnected to God. And for those who trust in Him, He gives His Spirit to empower real change—a daily process of being renewed and reshaped. This transformation is called sanctification: the journey of God healing us from the inside out.
The only prerequisite? Faith. Recognizing your need (repentance), trusting in what Jesus has done, and surrendering your life back to the One who gave it in the first place.
“But why not just reconcile everyone automatically?”
Because love requires choice. A forced relationship isn’t love—it’s coercion. God offers restoration freely, but He won’t force it.
You may still struggle with how some people present this message. Unfortunately, some Christians have delivered it poorly—with fear tactics instead of love, adopting a “turn or burn” approach. So, it understandable that some would disagree with the notion that this “reconciled relationship” Jesus offers is truly a free gift that only needs acceptance – because the alternative option is, eternally, Hell. Though rarely described in detail, Hell isn’t some medieval torture chamber dungeon. While it’s noted to be a place of intense anger and sorrow, it’s a result of the altogether absence of God. The natural end of a life lived apart from Him. The pain is real—not because God inflicts it, but because He isn’t there.
The heart of the gospel isn’t “be good or else.” It’s “you were made for something better—and that better has already begun.”
(2) On a Communal Level – The Church
God’s solution to evil doesn’t stop at individual hearts. He created a global community—the Church, made up of people who’ve experienced healing and are now called to share it.
The Church is meant to be the “hands and feet” of Jesus: in other words, we are tasked with loving the marginalized, serving the hurt, speaking truth, and living out justice. Of course, because the Church is made up of imperfect people, we fall short of this mission. But even that is part of God’s redemption—calling His people to live humbly, to forgive often, and to extend the same grace they’ve received as a reflection of what He’s done for us.
The Church’s message isn’t, “Look how perfect we are.” It’s, “We’ve found hope—and we want you to know it too.” At its best, the Church offers a glimpse of the restoration to come.
(3) On an Eternal Level – Full Restoration
“If Jesus defeated sin and death and offers us that same victory, why is the world still so broken?”
Because the story isn’t finished yet.
Scripture begins in a garden and ends in a renewed creation—a world where suffering is no more, justice reigns, peace is permanent, and our relationship with God is fully restored. That promise is still ahead. Jesus said He would return to bring it to completion. And when He does, all evil will be fully and finally dealt with.
There’s a key distinction here we need to make: Salvation offers spiritual reconciliation now. It’s the beginning of a new life—an eternal citizenship in the kingdom of God, even while we’re still living in a broken world. But full restoration is what happens when that kingdom comes in its entirety—when Christ returns and makes all things new. That day will bring justice, judgment, and the end of evil. And while that gives believers deep hope, it also creates a sense of urgency. Because when sin is finally removed, so too will be everything still bound to it. That’s why Christians share the gospel—not to pressure or frighten people, but because we believe real restoration is coming, and we want others to be part of it.
As atheist Penn Jillette (also a skilled magician, but that's irrelevant) once said:
“How much do you have to hate somebody to believe everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?”
Right now, we live in the in-between: a world where suffering still exists, even for Christians. But that pain isn’t meaningless. Scripture says God is “not willing that any should perish,” which means every moment He delays is a chance for more people to be reached, rescued, and restored. So while the brokenness of this world can feel overwhelming—even unbearable—it also points to something bigger. This time of waiting is mercy. It’s God giving space for hope to spread. Our suffering isn’t pointless. It’s a window of grace.
So sure, maybe all of that makes sense. But you might still be thinking:
“You haven’t answered for the suffering that comes from an out-of-order creation—things like cancer, natural disasters, and disease. I can understand how human evil fits into your explanation of free will, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to call God ‘good’ when I see children diagnosed with leukemia, summer camps hit with flash floods, or wildfires rip through neighborhoods."
And you’re right. This is the hardest question of all.
Because while a Christian might answer the question “Why do bad things happen?” with “Because of sin,” the follow-up is both fair and necessary: “So you’re telling me a four-year-old dies of cancer because of their sin? Or their parents’? Really?”
It sounds ridiculous because…it is ridiculous. Of course not!
Sin isn’t just about individual wrongdoing. It's the condition of a world that’s been knocked off balance, fractured from its original design. And that fracture didn’t just affect our hearts—it affected everything. Nature. Time. Bodies. Ecosystems. All of it. So, yes, disease and disaster fall under the umbrella of a broken world. But no, that does not mean those who suffer are somehow “worse” or more deserving. That’s not the Gospel. That’s not the God of the Bible. And it’s cruel for any one person to suggest otherwise.
“So why would God allow it?”
This is a question that can shake even strong faith. Here’s how I usually respond:
First, logically:
When I’ve been asked questions about morality and evolution, I’ve often been told, “You just don’t grasp how billions of years of development work—you’re too small minded.” Fair enough.
But if we can accept that time can produce outcomes beyond our understanding, why can’t we accept that an all-powerful, eternal God might also be working toward something we don’t yet see? It’s not a cop-out. It’s a humble acknowledgement: If I don’t have all the data, maybe I shouldn’t assume I could do it better.
Second, spiritually:
If I believe that death isn’t the end…if I believe God has shown Himself good in every other area…why would I assume His goodness fails when pain hits hardest? My grief over tragedy isn’t proof that God doesn’t care—it’s evidence I reflect His heart. As shared earlier, Scripture says we’re made in His image, so the ache we feel in the face of suffering? That’s His ache too. A cruel God wouldn’t grieve. But a good one might allow sorrow for a purpose far beyond what we can see right now.
I won’t pretend it’s easy. But if eternity is real—if life with God extends beyond this one—then even temporary suffering might carry eternal significance. It might mean one more life reached, one more person transformed. Because the mission of God is restoration. And somehow—even our pain can be part of that.
Granted, it’s a hard mindset to hold onto, especially in the midst of heartbreak. But maybe it’s something we can return to:
That our grief doesn’t go unnoticed. That our questions don’t weaken our faith. That our pain isn’t wasted. That the very ache we feel in the face of brokenness is evidence we were made for more and a reminder there’s a better world that will one day come.
So we wait. We hold fast to one another. And we cling to the hope of Jesus, trusting that He is not finished yet.
