Why Does Evil Thrive Under a Good God?

Wrestling with Suffering and Finding Answers in Yeshua’s Redemption

The Paradox of a Good God and a Broken World: Finding Fulfillment in Yeshua

The question strikes at the heart of one of Christianity’s most persistent challenges: If God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving, as followers of Yeshua proclaim, why does evil ravage the world—floods swallowing homes, diseases stealing lives, and human cruelty scarring history? It’s a tension that has haunted believers since Job wrestled with his anguish (Job 3:11-19) and still stirs debate today, from quiet prayers to impassioned posts on X. As a student of the Hebrew Scriptures, shaped by cherished tradition and set ablaze by a very real faith in Yeshua, I see this not as a flaw to dismiss, but a mystery to explore. The ancient texts—Tanakh and New Testament alike—don’t dodge the reality of suffering; they weave a story of divine goodness, human freedom, and ultimate redemption, fulfilled in the Messiah. Let’s step into this together, with open minds and seeking hearts, to trace how Yeshua illuminates the paradox of a broken world and a perfect God.

The Foundation: God’s Goodness in the Hebrew Scriptures

In the beginning, God declares His creation “very good” (Genesis 1:31). The world is a symphony of order and beauty—humanity crafted in His image, entrusted with stewardship over the earth (Genesis 1:26-28). Yet, the harmony fractures. Genesis 3 recounts the entrance of sin through human choice: Adam and Eve, given freedom to trust or defy God, choose the latter. With that choice comes a cascade of consequences—pain, toil, and death (Genesis 3:16-19). The rabbis of Jewish tradition often reflect on this moment as the introduction of yetzer hara, the evil inclination, a force within humanity that pulls us toward selfishness and rebellion. Scripture hints at a broader story—evil’s presence predates humanity, embodied in the serpent, a mystery of rebellion beyond Eden’s gates. Yet the focus remains: our choice unleashed its consequences. Evil, then, is not God’s creation, but the distortion of His good design through the misuse of freedom.

This theme reverberates through the Tanakh. In Isaiah 45:7, God says, “I form light and create darkness, I make well-being and create calamity.” Some seize on this to argue God authors evil, but the Hebrew word ra here often means “calamity” or “disaster,” not moral wickedness. Context matters: God governs a world where consequences follow actions, yet He remains distinct from the moral evil humans perpetrate. The Psalms affirm His goodness unrelentingly: “The Lord is good to all, and His mercy is over all that He has made” (Psalm 145:9). Suffering exists, but it’s not the final word.

The Tension: Free Will and a Fallen World

Why, then, doesn’t an all-powerful God simply erase evil? The answer lies in the gift of freedom—a cornerstone of both Jewish and Messianic thought. In Deuteronomy 30:19, God sets before Israel “life and death, blessing and curse,” urging them to choose life. Freedom is the heartbeat of relationship; without it, love becomes coercion. As Rabbi Akiva taught, “All is foreseen, yet freedom of choice is given” (Pirkei Avot 3:15). God’s omniscience doesn’t negate our agency; He knows our paths, yet we walk them.

When humanity chose rebellion, the world fell under a curse (Genesis 3:17-19). Natural disasters and disease aren’t divine punishments but the groans of a creation “subjected to futility” (Romans 8:20-21), awaiting restoration. In Jewish tradition, creation is a unified tapestry—when humanity rebelled, the threads unraveled, and the earth itself bore the scars. Romans 8:20-21 calls this a “subjection to futility,” where storms and sickness reflect a world out of joint, yearning for repair. Human cruelty, too, flows from hearts turned inward. Yeshua echoes this in Matthew 15:19: “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery…” Evil persists because God values a world where love is possible, even at the cost of freedom’s misuse.

But doesn’t this limit God’s power? Not at all. His omnipotence isn’t a bulldozer negating human will, but a sculptor shaping history toward redemption. The prophets foresaw this: Isaiah 11:9 promises a day when “the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord,” evil undone. The question shifts from “Why evil?” to “What is God doing about it?”

The Fulfillment: Yeshua as the Answer

Here, the Hebrew Scriptures find their crescendo in Yeshua. The Tanakh brims with messianic hope—a figure who will crush evil, heal the broken, and usher in peace. Genesis 3:15 hints at a “seed” who will bruise the serpent’s head. Isaiah 53 paints a Suffering Servant who bears our iniquities, despised yet victorious. Psalm 22 cries out in anguish—“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”—words Yeshua utters on the cross (Matthew 27:46), linking His suffering to the psalmist’s prophecy.

Yeshua doesn’t merely explain evil; He confronts it. On the cross, He takes the weight of sin and suffering—humanity’s and creation’s—into Himself. Colossians 1:20 declares He reconciles “all things” to God, “making peace by the blood of His cross.” This isn’t a sidestep of the problem but its resolution. Evil’s power is broken, not by erasing it prematurely, but by redeeming it through sacrifice. The resurrection seals this victory, proving death itself is undone (1 Corinthians 15:54-57).

Jewish tradition often wrestles with the Messiah’s role. Some expect a political deliverer, citing passages like Ezekiel 37:24-28, where a king restores Israel. Yet Yeshua’s first coming aligns with the Suffering Servant, not the conquering king—a distinction clarified by His promise to return (Revelation 19:11-16). The rabbis speak of tikkun olam, repairing the world; Yeshua begins this, inviting us into the work until He completes it. Many in Israel still await a Messiah to bring political peace, as Ezekiel envisions—and rightly so, for Yeshua’s return promises this too, uniting servant and king in one redemptive arc (Zechariah 9:9-10).

Addressing Objections: Purpose in Pain?

Critics might ask: If God is good, why not end suffering now? The Scriptures offer no trite answers, but a pattern emerges. Joseph, sold into slavery, tells his brothers, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20). Suffering, though not authored by God, is woven into His redemptive plan. In John 9, Yeshua heals a blind man, saying his condition was “that the works of God might be displayed in him” (John 9:3). Pain becomes a canvas for divine glory. Why some bear heavier loads—children lost to famine, innocents in anguish—remains a piercing mystery. Yet Yeshua doesn’t stand aloof; He carries each burden, promising no tear is wasted (Psalm 56:8).

This isn’t to romanticize suffering—it’s real, raw, and often inexplicable. Yet Yeshua enters it. He weeps at Lazarus’s tomb (John 11:35), shares our grief, and promises a day when “He will wipe away every tear” (Revelation 21:4). Until then, suffering refines us (Romans 5:3-5), drawing us to dependence on Him.

A Stern Correction: Rejecting the Milky Gospel of Modern Churches

But let’s pause for a stern word to today’s churches, too many of which have drifted into a milky, watered-down gospel that trades truth for entertainment. As I’ve written elsewhere, the modern church often strays far from the vibrant ekklesia of Acts 2:42-47—those early believers who broke bread in homes, shared all they had, and devoured the apostles’ teaching with hunger. Instead, we see stages lit like concert halls, sermons crafted to tickle ears (2 Timothy 4:3-4), and Scripture twisted into feel-good soundbites that dodge the weight of sin, suffering, and the call to holiness. This isn’t shepherding—it’s showmanship.

The Bible isn’t a prop for motivational talks or a script for crowd-pleasing theatrics. It’s the living word of Adonai, sharp as a two-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12), meant to pierce, convict, and transform—not to be milked dry for shallow applause. Pastors must stop treating their flocks like spectators, spoon-feeding them a diluted gospel that avoids hard truths. Yeshua didn’t soften His words—He spoke of carrying crosses (Luke 14:27), of righteousness that surpasses the Pharisees (Matthew 5:20), of a narrow path (Matthew 7:14). The early church thrived not on entertainment but on authenticity—every believer a priest (1 Peter 2:9), equipped to wrestle with Scripture under the Spirit’s guidance (1 John 2:27).

This correction isn’t mere critique—it’s a plea. When leaders prioritize biblical literacy and sound teaching, they alleviate the doubts of a flock starving for substance. They honor the Jewish roots of our faith, where Torah was studied with reverence, not repackaged as a trendy product. Return to the meat of the Word (Hebrews 5:12-14), churches, and cast off the milk that keeps us infantile. Only then can we stand firm, ready to face evil’s reality with the full armor of God (Ephesians 6:11), not flimsy platitudes.

An Honest Gospel: Yeshua’s Heart for the Broken

So, why does evil exist? Because God, in His goodness, created a world of freedom, and in His power, He’s redeeming it through Yeshua. The Hebrew Scriptures and New Testament together tell one story: a God who doesn’t abandon us to chaos but enters it, offering hope amid the ashes. But this isn’t just a theological answer—it’s a living gospel, raw and real, reaching into the mess of our lives with a love that refuses to let go.

Let me speak straight to you, especially if you’re on the edges, wondering if this is for you. Maybe you’re drowning in addiction, trapped in a cycle you despise but can’t break. Maybe you’re wrestling with who you are—your identity, your past—feeling judged or cast aside. Maybe you’ve been told you’re too broken, too far gone, the “least of these” nobody wants. I’ve seen that pain; I’ve felt its weight. And here’s the unvarnished truth: Yeshua sees you right there, and He’s running toward you, not away.

He didn’t come for the polished or the perfect—He came for the shattered. Look at who He chose: a tax collector like Matthew, hated by his own (Matthew 9:9-13); a woman at a well, her life a tangle of shame (John 4:7-26); a thief gasping on a cross, welcomed home in his final breath (Luke 23:43). “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners,” He said (Mark 2:17). That’s us—you, me, all of us. No matter how unlovable you feel, His arms were stretched wide on that cross for you—not because you’ve earned it, but because you never could.

This isn’t about fixing yourself first. Yeshua says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Rest from guilt. Rest from the fight to prove you’re enough. He’s not waiting for you to get it together—He’s offering to hold you while He puts the pieces back, day by day. And that question, “If He loves me, why am I still hurting?”—He’s in it with you, groaning alongside creation until it’s all made new (Romans 8:18-23). Walking with Him isn’t about instant perfection; it’s letting His love reshape you through the mess, giving purpose to the pain.

I invite you—plead with you—to step into this story. Open a Bible, even if it’s been years—start with Genesis 3, Isaiah 53, or John 1. Trace the thread from Abraham’s promise to Yeshua’s cross. Ask: Could this be the Messiah, the One who fulfills it all? You don’t need to have answers; just come as you are. Whisper to Him, even if it’s shaky. You’re not signing up for rules—you’re stepping into a family where the Father’s already saying, “You’re mine.” Will you let Him hold you? The evidence is there, the hope is real, and the invitation is yours—right now, today.

If you found this article insightful or helpful in your walk with Yeshua, please share it with others seeking biblical truth. Together, let’s grow in covenant faithfulness. Shalom!

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The Gospel Unfolded: Yeshua’s Love Completes the Story