Greetings in the name of the Father, the son, and the Holy Spirit.
“Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied. “There is only One who is good.” –Matthew 19:17
Have you ever sat in a dimly lit room, staring out a window after receiving news that made your stomach drop, and asked yourself a question that feels as old as human history itself?
It is a question that sits silently in hospital waiting rooms. It echoes through the quiet halls of broken homes. It drifts across the ashes of shattered dreams. We may phrase it in a hundred different ways depending on our background, but stripped down to its core, it always sounds like this: Why do bad things happen to good people?
It is an understandable ache. When hardship strikes someone who seems kind, generous, and gentle—while those who are cruel or dishonest seem to prosper—a deep sense of injustice rises within us. We want the world to make sense. We want a clean ledger where good deeds yield instant rewards and bad deeds yield immediate consequences. When the world fails to operate by that simple arithmetic, we feel lost.
For centuries, thinkers, philosophers, parents, and friends have tried to offer answers. We buy books on coping, listen to podcasts on resilience, and turn to well-meaning advisors for comfort. Yet so often, the explanations leave us cold. They feel like small Band-Aids placed over deep, open wounds.
To understand why this question burns so fiercely in our hearts, we have to examine two hidden assumptions we make whenever we ask it. First, how do we define who is “good“? And second, where in the story are we standing when we pass judgment on whether an event is ultimately “bad“?
When we look into the Bible, we discover a perspective that does not dismiss our grief, but radically reshapes how we view our entire lives. The Bible does not offer a cold, academic formula to explain away suffering. Instead, it invites us out of a flat, static snapshot of reality and into a vast, breathtaking narrative—a story spanning eternity, written by an Author who does not remain distant from our pain, but steps directly into it with us.
1: Stopping the Film Mid-Scene — The Illusion of the Unfinished Story
To begin wrestling with this heavy question, we must first look honestly at how we measure ourselves and our circumstances. When we ask why bad things happen to “good” people, there is a subtle, almost invisible assumption at play: we naturally set ourselves up as the judge.
We look at our neighbor, our friend, or even in the mirror, and say, “I am a decent person. I try my best. I don’t hurt anyone on purpose. Therefore, I deserve a smooth path.” We weigh our lives against the lives of others, deciding who deserves comfort and who deserves trouble.
Yet the Bible offers a surprisingly honest mirror regarding human nature. In the book of Romans, chapter 3, verses 10 through 12, the Bible captures our true human baseline:
“As it is written: ‘There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.'” (Roman 3:10-12)
At first glance, that sounds harsh. But it is actually the most liberating truth we can encounter. It strips away our exhausting need to self-justify and compare ourselves with others. When we stop pretending that any of us are flawlessly “good” by perfect standards, we begin to see that we are all in the same boat—imperfect people navigating a fallen, fragile world.
Beyond our tendency to misjudge human nature, there is a second reason our evaluation of “bad things” is so flawed: we are trying to judge an entire story while sitting in the middle of a single scene.
Imagine walking into a movie theater an hour after the film has started. You sit down just in time to see the main character stripped of their home, betrayed by their closest friend, and left stranded in the wilderness. If you stood up right then, walked out of the theater, and declared, “What a terrible, tragic, meaningless movie!” everyone in the audience would look at you in confusion. Why? Because you left during the conflict. You didn’t wait for the resolution.
Human storytelling mirrors the structure of reality. A novel or a film without tension, plot twists, unpredictable setbacks, or moments of deep peril is entirely unwatchable. If a hero simply wakes up, enjoys a flawless day, wins everything without effort, and goes back to sleep, we turn the monitor off. It holds no truth for us because life is not flat. The unpredictability and the drama are what give the eventual victory its resonance.
There is a famous ancient parable about an old farmer that illustrates this human shortsightedness.
- One day, the farmer’s only horse ran away into the mountains. The neighbors gathered around to offer their sympathy, saying, “What terrible bad luck!”
The old man simply replied, “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows? We shall see.”
- A few days later, the horse returned, bringing with it a herd of wild horses. The neighbors rushed back, celebrating: “What wonderful good luck!”
The old man calmly murmured, “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows? We shall see.”
- The following week, while trying to tame one of the wild horses, the farmer’s only son fell and broke his leg badly. The neighbors came over again to mourn: “What an awful tragedy, what bad luck!”
Once more, the old man replied, “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows? We shall see.”
- Soon after, a draft officer arrived in the village to conscript every healthy young man into a brutal war. Because the farmer’s son had a broken leg, he was spared.
What seemed like a catastrophe in scene one became the very thing that preserved life in scene four.
Our lives are not static snapshots; they are long, complex narratives unfolding across time. We tend to freeze a painful moment—a job loss, a breakup, a health scare—and declare it to be the final verdict on our existence. But we are still in the middle of the script.
Here, however, lies the crucial difference between watching a movie and living our actual lives. When we watch a film on a screen, we possess a “God-like” distance. If the story gets too dark, intense, or boring, we can press a button on a remote, close the laptop lid, or walk out of the theater. We are passive observers with absolute control over our viewing.
In real life, we have no such button. We do not sit in the audience; we are on the stage. We feel every bump, every scratch, and every tear in real time. We cannot skip the hard chapters or fast-forward through the grief. We are embedded inside the drama, unable to see how the Author will weave today’s pain into tomorrow’s beauty.
Because we cannot leap to the end of our own story, evaluating whether a moment is ultimate “good” or ultimate “bad” from inside the present scene is simply beyond our vision. We need a perspective that spans beyond the immediate moment.
2: The Final Scene and the Search for Real Food for Our Ultimate Hunger
If a story can only be properly evaluated when the credits roll, what actually matters when we reach the end of our lives?
Consider one of the most famous films in cinematic history, Citizen Kane. The entire story revolves around a wealthy, powerful man lying on his deathbed. He has built a vast empire, acquired incredible wealth, and commanded enormous social influence. Yet as he takes his very last breath, his lips form a single, mysterious word: “Rosebud.”
The rest of the film becomes a search to understand what that word meant. In the final moment, it is revealed that “Rosebud” was simply the name of the wooden sled he played with as a child—a symbol of simple, unconditional love, innocence, and genuine relationship before he spent his life chasing power and wealth.
When a person reaches the final scene of earthly life, the metrics of the world shift instantly. In a hospital room during someone’s final hours, no one asks to see their bank statements, their job title, their college degree, or the trophies on their shelf. Wealth, fame, prestige, and physical beauty suddenly lose all their currency. They do not carry any weight on the border of eternity.
Yet during our day-to-day lives, we consume enormous amounts of time and energy trying to hoard these very things. We look to human philosophy, career success, self-help strategies, and peer advice to make sense of our existence and protect us from hardship.
There is nothing inherently wrong with practical advice or human encouragement. They are like daily vitamins—helpful supplements for daily living. But if a starving person attempts to survive strictly on vitamin pills without ever eating a real meal, they will eventually perish. Human wisdom can offer tips on how to cope, but it cannot sustain the human heart when the foundational storms of life hit. We need a main meal. We need something of eternal substance.
So what is the main meal? What truly matters at the end?
When the noise of the world fades, what every human heart desperately asks for is not an intellectual lecture on why suffering exists. What we long for is true love, authentic presence, and a hope that does not decay when our circumstances crumble.
The Bible speaks directly to this deep hunger in Ecclesiastes chapter 3, verse 11:
“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11)
We feel the sting of “bad things” so intensely precisely because we were made for eternity. We instinctively know that pain, sickness, and death were not part of the original design for humanity. Our hearts cry out against suffering because we carry an innate longing for a home where everything is made right.
If human advice is merely a supplement, and earthly achievements fade at the finish line, where do we turn while we are still walking through the hard, unpredictable middle scenes of our personal story? We need a foundation that is anchored in the final scene—one that offers real, unshakeable support today.
3: The Author Who Stepped Into the Script — Calling Upon Jesus for True Peace
This brings us to the profound core of the Christian message—the Gospel—and the real answer to our hearts when bad things happen.
When we look around at the world’s religions and philosophies, most offer a distant set of rules or abstract principles. They tell us to endure suffering with cold stoicism, to rationalize our pain away, or to try to escape reality altogether.
The Bible offers something completely different. It tells us that when humanity was trapped in a broken world of our own making, God did not remain an isolated, detached spectator in the heavens. He did not sit back like a moviegoer watching our struggles from a safe distance.
Instead, the Author stepped directly into His own script. Jesus Christ came into human history in the flesh.
Think about what that means. Jesus did not arrive in a palace surrounded by worldly comfort. He was born into poverty, raised in an obscure town, and spent His adult life surrounded by the hurting, the outcast, and the broken. He experienced fatigue, betrayal, poverty, and grief.
When His close friend Lazarus died, Jesus did not offer a detached sermon on why bad things happen. The Bible records the shortest and most heartbreaking verse in all of Scripture in John chapter 11, verse 35:
“Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)
The Creator of the universe stood at the tomb of His friend and shed genuine tears. He felt the sharp, agonizing sorrow of human loss. He wept over the grief of His friends, and He wept over the impending destruction of Jerusalem.
Throughout His ministry, Jesus consistently sought out those who were rejected by society. He walked toward tax collectors, Samaritans, and marginalized individuals whom others treated as invisible or inferior. He offered them not judgment, but deep, authentic dignity and love.
And ultimate hardship did not bypass Him. Jesus willingly stepped onto the cross, bearing the full weight of human wrongdoing, suffering, and separation from God. On that cross, the only truly innocent person in history absorbed the ultimate “bad thing“—death itself—so that we could be restored to a living relationship with God.
When Jesus rose from the dead three days later, He demonstrated that evil, suffering, and death do not have the final word in human history. The worst chapter in the story was transformed into the ultimate triumph.
Because the Author walked through the darkest valley and conquered the grave, He does not stand at a distance offering cold theories. Instead, He gives us a warm, personal invitation to call upon Him directly when life breaks our hearts. In Matthew chapter 11, verses 28 through 30, Jesus speaks directly to our exhaustion:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
When we call on the name of Jesus in the middle of our storm, He may not wave a magic wand to instantly erase every trial from our path, but He gives us something far deeper: His divine peace and His authentic, abiding presence.
In John chapter 14, verse 27, Jesus promises His followers:
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27)
The peace the world offers is completely dependent on favorable circumstances—it vanishes the moment a bad thing happens. But the peace Jesus gives is rooted in His unchanging love. When you call on Jesus, you are calling on a Savior who wept over human pain, who willingly bore the cross for our sins, who conquered death, and who promises never to leave you or forsake you.
In calling upon Jesus, you no longer have to process life’s heartbreaks alone or try to figure out the whole story by yourself while questioning “Why bad things happen to good people?”. You receive an authentic, eternal Friend who comforts your heart, gives you real rest for your soul, and settles you in His unshakeable peace.
Summary: Finding Rest in the Presence of Jesus
When we look at our lives through the narrow lens of the present moment, asking “Why do bad things happen to good people?” can leave us feeling circular, frustrated, and deeply exhausted.
We realize that:
- Today’s pain isn’t the final verdict: Evaluating our lives or our circumstances in the middle of an unfinished scene is impossible. A hard chapter today does not mean the story is a tragedy; God is still writing the narrative.
- Human wisdom acts only as a temporary supplement: Earthly wealth, fame, and self-help strategies are like vitamins. They cannot sustain or heal a broken heart when real trial strikes. We need the main meal of genuine love, truth, and presence.
- Jesus calls us to Himself and gives us peace: In the Gospel, we meet the Author who stepped into our suffering, wept for our pain, died on the cross for our sins, and rose again. When we call on Jesus, He meets us in our sorrow with genuine compassion and fills our weary hearts with His true, abiding peace.
You do not have to carry the heavy weight of life’s mysteries or hurts on your own. You can bring your questions, your tears, and your fatigue directly to Jesus right now. When you call upon Him and trust Him with your heart, He wraps you in His love and grants you the rest and peace your soul has been longing for.
Let us pray together:
Heavenly Father,
We come before You carrying the real weight of living in a world that often feels confusing, painful, and unpredictable. You know the questions we hold in the quiet corners of our hearts when bad things happen. You see our tears, our weariness, and our search for meaning amidst life’s struggles.
Forgive us for trying to judge Your whole, beautiful plan based on a single difficult scene, and for seeking comfort in temporary things that can never truly satisfy us.
We thank You with all our hearts for sending Your Son, Jesus Christ. Thank You that He did not stay far away from our pain, but came to walk with us, to weep over our losses, and to give His life on the cross so that we could be forgiven and brought close to You.
Lord Jesus, right now we call upon Your precious Name. We bring our heavy burdens, our broken pieces, and our tired minds to You. We ask You to flood our hearts with Your supernatural peace—the peace that passes all human understanding. Be our comfort, our steady anchor, and our closest Friend today. Help us to rest in Your loving presence and to trust You through every chapter of our lives.
We pray in the Name of Jesus, Amen.
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” – John 14:27