If we are really honest, when we look at the world around us—reeling from the effects of abuse, disease, disaster, and violence—it feels like suffering is endemic.
For any of us navigating the gritty, physical reality of loss or trauma, we inevitably arrive at the age-old theological concept known as theodicy: the attempt to reconcile the existence of a good, all-powerful God with a broken and hurting world.
It is the attempt to articulate God’s goodness and justice in the presence of suffering.
Here is exactly how I define the core tension of this major question:
“How can there be suffering if God is loving? Because the implication is if God was really loving then he would stop the suffering and if God was all powerful he’d be able to stop the suffering. So either God isn’t loving and that’s why they’re suffering or God isn’t God, he’s not powerful and that’s why they’re suffering”.
However, the Christian faith answers this question quite differently from those two stark options.
To understand why suffering exists, we have to look closely at the nature of love.
I want to suggest to you today that the Christian faith says God made a world which is good, a world within which love is possible, and He did that by creating human beings in His image with the capacity to love.
But having the capacity to love fundamentally entails the possibility of choice.
Compelled love is never love.
I remember a friend growing up whose parents were trying to force her into a marriage with someone she had never met.
She understood intuitively that to live a life where she could love and be loved, she had to have a choice. By giving us this astonishing freedom, God allowed for the potential of pain.
As human beings, we have used our capacity to choose, our freedom, to harm as well as to love.
When horrific things happen, our outrage is entirely justified. ‘
But I often ask those who hold a purely materialist worldview: if there is no God, and we are just a bucket of biochemistry, why should we feel such disgust and fury at injustice?.
Our visceral rage at suffering actually points beyond itself. It tells us that human life is sacred because we are made in the image of God (Imago Dei).
Pain hurts at such an acute, transcendent level precisely because you are infinitely precious, and you were uniquely made for love.
The danger is treating theodicy like an emotional cure. Explanation can clarify, but it cannot replace compassion, prayer, and presence.
Good theodicy stays humble. It speaks where Scripture speaks, acknowledges mystery where needed, and keeps hope anchored in God’s character.
If we get this right, we become harder to manipulate by fear and easier to guide by wisdom. That is part of mature Christian witness in a culture that is often noisy, reactive, and deeply wounded.
If you are looking to take these truths from your head to your heart—especially as we navigate the heavy realities of pain, trauma, and trying to live faithfully in a broken world—I want to invite you to explore my book, Forgiveness. Together, we look closely at one of the most challenging yet profoundly restorative commands of Jesus, discovering how it is possible to find healing and hope even when it feels impossible.
