When We Blame God for Evil: A Personal Reflection on Justice, Suffering, and the Human Heart

There are questions so heavy that even the most brilliant minds tremble before them. Among the heaviest is this: if God is all-loving and all-powerful, why does He allow evil?

This question is not academic. It's personal. It doesn’t come from a vacuum—it comes from pain. From the horrors we’ve seen or heard. From the young girl raped. From the war orphan. From the silence that often follows our prayers. And if God is real, if He sees everything, then doesn’t His silence make Him complicit?

That’s where the argument begins: if God is everywhere, then He must be either inactive or cruel. He must be either powerless or morally bankrupt. And if He is not doing something about evil—especially the brutal kind—then what good is He at all?

I hear that. I’ve felt it. But I also think the question is misdirected. When we see evil, we don’t just grieve—we judge. We call it evil because something deep in us believes it should not be so. We believe there’s a way the world ought to be. And where doe that sense of "ought" come from?

If evil breaks your heart, you are not alone. Scripture tells us it breaks God's heart too. When He saw the wickedness of the earth before the flood, it says:

“The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled.”

— Genesis 6:6 (NIV)

People recoil at the flood story—and for good reason. It's harsh. It feels indiscriminate. It raises the haunting question: How much evil would justify God wiping out the whole earth?

But that’s not where the story ends. After the flood, God makes a promise:

“Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.”

— Genesis 8:21 (NIV)

In this, I see not cruelty but lamentation—a God who is devastated by the state of His creation. A God who acts, and then vows never to act in that same way again. The arc of Scripture bends not toward wrath, but toward grace. And Jesus becomes the ultimate proof of this.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.”

— Matthew 5:38-42 (NIV)

This is where everything shifts. God does not merely intervene on us. He intervenes through us. And in Christ, He intervenes as one of us. This changes the very framework of the problem. Instead of asking why God doesn't stop evil, the question becomes: why don’t we?

We are not passive observers in this story. We are moral agents. We are invited to be the hands and feet of God—to bring justice, comfort, healing, and love where we can. When I see unjust suffering, I believe God is not absent. I believe He is calling me to respond. And if I choose not to, then I am the one being complacent—not Him.

And here is where I want to get very honest. I’ve done wrong. I’ve acted out of selfishness. Even as a child, I remember making decisions that hurt others. And when I look around, I see the same pattern. We all know, deep down, that we’ve done wrong. The word we use in the Church is sin. I know it’s not a popular word. It makes people squirm. But maybe that’s because it hits close to home. Maybe because we know it’s true.

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.

— Romans 3:23 (NIV)

There’s this notion today that we’re born good, and that the world just corrupts us. But the Bible offers a more painful and yet more hopeful view: we are capable of good, but bent toward self. We were created in God’s image, yes—but we are also broken. And that brokenness explains a lot more of human history than blanket optimism ever could.

If you think that’s bleak, stay with me. Because the message of Christianity is not that we’re sinners doomed to suffer. It’s that God saw our mess, entered into it, and gave His life to redeem it. He didn’t wipe out humanity again—He took on humanity’s sin Himself.

And all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood—to be received by faith. He did this to demonstrate his righteousness, because in his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished—he did it to demonstrate his righteousness at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus.

— Romans 3:24-26 (NIV)

Some say, “Why should I believe God will bring justice?” Because Jesus said He would. And He died—and came back to life—to prove He keeps His promises. He showed that injustice is not the end. Death is not the end. Evil is not the end.

The skeptics say, “That’s circular.” Maybe. But so is most of human reasoning if you trace it far enough. At some point, we all have to choose what foundation we’re standing on. Mine is not a myth or blind hope—it’s a person. A man who lived, suffered, forgave, and rose again. A man who looked into the eyes of His murderers and said, "Father, forgive them." That is strength. That is justice. That is love.

I don’t claim to have all the answers. But I do believe this: evil exists. We’ve all seen it. We’ve all participated in it. And we all need saving from it. Christ came to offer that salvation, not just as an abstract idea, but as a way of life—a way that invites us to forgive, to heal, and to hope.

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.

— 1 John 4:9-10 (NIV)

If you’re angry about evil, I’m with you. But let that anger fuel justice, not despair. Let it drive you toward the God who feels it too. And who gave everything to make it right.