Problem of Evil

The Problem of Evil

Suffering is perhaps the most challenging obstacle to belief in God, it's a problem that has driven more people away from God than any other issue. It demands not only philosophical and theological attention but emotional and spiritual reckoning. Entire books could—and should—be written on this topic alone. But even then, no single explanation can fully account for the pain caused by depression, illness, war, aging, natural disasters, and the countless other afflictions humanity endures.

At the heart of the problem of evil lies a core question: How can a loving, all-powerful God allow so much suffering? If God is so good, why does evil persist? If He is omnipotent, why must our growth come through pain? Why must the sword be forged in fire and not in water?

The Greek philosopher Epicurus articulated this dilemma in a striking paradox:

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then He is not omnipotent. Is He able, but not willing? Then He is malevolent. Is He both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is He neither able nor willing? Then why call Him God?"

Modern thinkers continue to wrestle with this issue, often distinguishing between two categories of evil: moral and natural. As paraphrased from John Lennox in his lecture, Where is God in Suffering?, moral evil arises from human choices—wars, murder, cruelty. These are a bit easier to comprehend because we can assign blame to human agency. Natural evil, on the other hand—earthquakes, wildfires, disease—seems unfair, impersonal, and harder to reconcile with divine goodness.

A suicide bomber’s actions reflect moral evil. We can say he chose to do wrong. But an earthquake that kills hundreds? A fire that destroys homes? A diagnosis that painfully steals life from a child? These don't come from human intent. So we ask, "Why didn’t God intervene? Why does He allow such random devastation?"

There are no simple answers. And to offer a shallow explanation in the face of grief would be an insult to the many who have suffered. However, within the framework of faith, there are perspectives that may not remove suffering but can give it context.

First, when we lose someone we love, it is a horrible tragedy. The sorrow is sharp, and the absence unbearable. And yet, our faith offers hope. We believe those who pass away are not lost forever. In death, they are received into a world of peace and love, where pain no longer exists. This hope does not erase grief, but it allows grief to coexist with meaning.

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”

-Revelation 21:4

But even with the knowledge of the afterlife, the sorrow still cuts deep. That is why Jesus’ response to Lazarus’ death is so profound. Knowing He would raise Lazarus from the dead, Jesus still wept. He didn’t brush off the mourning of Martha and Mary by offering a sermon on the joy of the afterlife. He sat with them in their sorrow. This moment matters deeply. It shows that grief is not of little importance.  Mourning is not a lack of faith. Even God incarnate wept.

Jesus’ tears were not for show. They revealed His deep compassion and His solidarity with human pain. He didn’t remain detached or above suffering. He entered it, for you and for me. This is one of Christianity’s most radical claims: that God not only permits suffering but has experienced it in its entirety Himself. No other religion that I am aware of offers that kind of answer to the problem of evil. 

Atheists do not have a response to the problem of evil. They simply claim, “It is what it is”. Evil is simply a natural byproduct of a chaotic, indifferent universe, where suffering has no ultimate purpose, and meaning is something we must construct for ourselves in the face of pain. For those who don't experience such suffering, such a world view may be fine, but for the vast majority of humanity. It is a cold response to such pain.

My message to the unbeliever who scoffs at the Christian view is to imagine, for a moment, that Christ is real. That He walked the earth and died in agony—mocked, betrayed, beaten. This God willingly underwent unbearable agony that he took upon himself in the garden. The question is, why? Why would a God, if real, willingly accept such torment? At the very least, it tells us this: God does not stand apart from our suffering. He inhabits it. He knows it. He chose not to remain distant but entered fully into the darkest human experience to meet us there.

This makes Christianity unique among worldviews. Our God doesn’t merely explain suffering. He joins us in it. He does not offer comfort from a distance but walks beside us in our darkest moments, all so that he can hold us when we suffer and tell us that he knows the pain, that it will be ok.

Still, even that comforting concept doesn’t fully answer why suffering must exist at all. From a Latter-day Saint perspective, our specific denomination has an advantage as it offers unique theological insights that add additional depth to answer this question.

We believe we existed before this life. We knew the risks of mortality and chose them anyway. That choice—our acceptance of the Father’s plan—suggests a pre-earth understanding that pain would be part of our journey. We understood it and willingly accepted.

Furthermore, we do not see the Fall of Adam and Eve as a tragedy, but as a vital step forward. “Adam fell that men might be” (2 Nephi 2:25). Without the Fall, there would be no experience, no growth. Pain, sorrow, and struggle are not glitches in the plan—they are part of the plan.

However, this perspective doesn’t eliminate the weight of suffering, but it reframes it. Earth life is a proving ground. Without opposition, growth is impossible. As 2 Nephi 2:11 teaches, “It must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.” Without sickness, we cannot appreciate health. Without injustice, we wouldn’t recognize mercy. Without sorrow, joy would lose its meaning.

So then there comes another question: could God have created a world where growth occurs without pain? A world where fire didn't burn and we grew in stature without pain? I don’t believe God could have done so. Why? Because there are universal laws that even God must obey. 

Some are now bound to be asking, “Are you saying God is limited?” The answer is yes—and no. God is all-powerful, but there are certain realities and laws that cannot be violated. For example, could God create a three-sided square? No. Not unless He redefined what a square is or what it means to have sides. Could God create a world where an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? Again, no. That would require redefining what "unstoppable" or "immovable" means.

Many philosophers argue that true omnipotence is about the ability to do all that is logically possible, not things that defy the nature of existence itself. In that sense, God could create a world with incredibly powerful forces and objects, but their interaction would still follow consistent logic rather than paradox.

"Whatever implies contradiction does not fall under God’s omnipotence, because it cannot have the nature of possibility. Hence, it is better to say that such things cannot be done, than that God cannot do them."
—Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica I, Q. 25, Art. 3

In English, Aquinas and other theologians are rejecting the idea that God could create logical absurdities (e.g., "a square circle" or "a stone so heavy He cannot lift it"), not because of a lack of power, but because such things are inherently nonsensical. Omnipotence, for Aquinas, as well as Latter-day Saints, is the power to actualize all genuine possibilities—those that respect the laws of logic and metaphysics.

God's omnipotence is not limited by weakness but defined by wisdom. Alma teaches that God “cannot lie” (Alma 7:20). Alma also reminds us that justice cannot be robbed (Alma 42:13). God is bound by His own perfect nature. He works within eternal laws. These are not constraints forced upon Him—they are expressions of His divinity. 

The idea that suffering is just as vital to our growth as three sides are to a triangle aligns with everything taught in scripture and in the restored gospel. Pain is not an accident of mortality—it is a necessary condition for progress. As Lehi teaches, "it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things" (2 Nephi 2:11). Without pain, we could not know joy; without challenge, we could not grow. God did not place us in a fallen world arbitrarily—He did so because this is the only kind of world where divine beings can be forged. 

The fire of adversity refines the soul. Mortality’s trials, far from being evidence of God's absence, are proof of His eternal purpose: to help us become like Him. This is not a flaw in the plan—it is the plan.

And so we suffer. But we do not suffer alone. We suffer with Christ beside us. We suffer with eternity ahead of us. This suffering is preparatory and helps us grow in ways that would simply not be possible otherwise.

One thing I don't think we realize is how short this life truly is. In terms of eternity, this brief time on earth is but an atom within the vast infinite cosmos. These trials, though heavy and difficult, are fleeting in the grand scale of eternity. 

I believe that when this life is over, we will look back and praise God, not only for the growth these trials allowed, but for His mercy in making these moments of pain so very brief. What awaits us is eternal, unending joy, and for that, we must hold on with faith. Until then, we endure. We mourn. We ask hard questions. And we hold to hope.

Because in the end, we are promised more. Not just answers, but healing, reunion, peace, and joy that never ends. God is all-powerful, all-loving, and all-knowing God is also with us, always: “God is love.” (1 John 4:8)

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son…” 

• John 3:16

Even if we don’t understand the full purpose of our pain, we can trust in the One who not only allows suffering, but has walked through it Himself. Jesus Christ didn’t remain distant from our sorrow—He entered into it. He wept. He bled. He suffered. And because of that, He can walk with us through our own valleys.

I’ll close this section with a quote from Christian philosopher John Lennox, who put it beautifully in his talk The Loud Absence: Where is God in Suffering?48 delivered at the Veritas Forum:

I believe firmly that If you could see what god has done with people like that ultimately [Those who suffered] your questions would stop.

Forgive me for adding on, but I believe that if we could truly see what reward our Father in Heaven has prepared for those who have endured such immense pain, we wouldn’t just stop questioning— I believe we would fall to our knees in awe and praise, overwhelmed by the depth of His love. God knows how to compensate for our pain, only in unimaginable reward can compensate for a pain so unbearable. 

We may not yet see the full picture. But one day we will. And on that day, we’ll recognize that God was not silent. He was present. He was grieving with us, strengthening us, and weaving redemption into every broken thread. And then, we’ll finally understand just how purposeful His love has always been.

Unnecessary Suffering:

One last section I would like to address when it comes to suffering. Some might completely toss out everything I have said on the premise that I do not know what I speak of. I’m 27. I haven’t faced chronic illness, the decay of age, or the grief of burying a child. Some will say that disqualifies me from speaking about suffering—and they’re partly right. But I’ve witnessed faith in those who have endured these trials, and their hard-won wisdom demands to be heard.

My grandparents, both in their early 80s, have graciously allowed me to share the following account. Their bodies are now withering with age, and they have weathered a lifetime of significant health and personal trials.

My grandpa, a former chief of police, has witnessed firsthand just how cruel and dark this world can be. As I write this, he lies in a hospital bed recovering from gallbladder surgery—just one of many operations he’s endured. Years of declining health have brought immense and persistent pain, keeping him in and out of hospitals again and again.

My grandma has faced similar hardships, marked by frequent hospital visits and her own encounters with deep suffering.

And yet, through it all, both of my grandparents remain unwavering in their faith. They are spiritual titans—models of strength, endurance, and trust in Christ. Their lives are a living testimony that faith can hold firm even in the face of relentless adversity. I admire them more than words can express.

I asked them the following question, and with their permission, I have included their response here. Their responses have been lightly edited for grammar and to remove personal details irrelevant to this book:

Question: 

Some argue that suffering, especially in old age, proves God isn’t real, as illness and hardship seem meaningless. Given your experience with aging, how do you view this perspective?

Tanner, thank you for asking such an important question. For both grandpa and me, the trials we’ve faced as we’ve grown older have truly strengthened our testimonies. We’ve become deeply grateful for our family—for you, your children, and your sweet wife. These trials can either make you bitter and negative or increase your faith and closeness to Heavenly Father. For us, it’s been the latter.

Our family means everything to us, even more than life itself, and our testimonies have grown tremendously through these challenges. Our faith in our Savior’s plan for us and for our entire family has deepened during these trials. We could choose to be bitter, but instead we’ve chosen to be grateful. Without any doubt, we know that Jesus is the Savior of this world and that our Father in Heaven loves us deeply. He allows these trials to test us and to reveal how strong our testimonies can truly be. 

This isn’t to romanticize suffering. God doesn’t ask us to pretend that our agony is beautiful, he asks us to trust that He can make it meaningful. The question isn’t ‘Why does God allow this?’ but ‘Will I let Him use this?’ My grandparents’ lives shout: Yes.

Watching my grandparents face these trials, I’ve seen how differently people respond to suffering. Some grow bitter and angry as each new hardship arrives. But then there are those like my grandparents—people who choose faith, gratitude, and peace. Their example has taught me that, though suffering and aging are undeniably difficult, they can also become a sacred time of spiritual refinement.

In the vastness of eternity, when we are with Christ again, I believe we will look back on these mortal trials and find that it was all worth it—and more.

Reflection questions

1. Can a world without pain truly foster growth? Why or why not?

2. How has suffering—either personal or observed—affected your faith, for better or worse?

3. How does the LDS teaching of premortal life and our choice to come to Earth influence your view of pain and trials?