Maybe this question echoes faintly in the back of your mind. Perhaps it slips in unnoticed as sorrow fills your heart and quickly becomes something to dwell on. Even if this question has never consumed you, my guess is that you’ve asked it before. It’s a functional rite of passage for those interested in apologetics or taught in the school of suffering. Maybe you haven’t asked it out loud, but you’ve likely felt the tension of this question: Why do bad things happen to good people?
“No one is good but God.” Perhaps you can even hear that answer. It’s how we tend to respond to this question, isn’t it? We point to Jesus, the perfect God-man who died for our sins, reiterating that there are no good people and that all of us deserve the judgment of God.
And this is correct. Paul tells us in Romans 3 that no one is righteous. Everyone has sinned. Sin incurs the wrath of God, and if everyone has sinned, then we all deserve the judgment of God.
People die because of sin. Judgment happens because of evil. Bad things happen because God is just.
And yet, even as I affirm this answer in its entirety, two passages in the Bible have reshaped how I view this question.
The Mystery of Justice
The first passage is Genesis 18. In this passage, God promises to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah for their wickedness. Abraham, knowing that his nephew Lot lives in Sodom, intercedes with God.
“Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked?” he opens (18:23).
What could perhaps be taken as innocent curiosity soon begins to show its true colors: “Suppose there are fifty righteous within the city. Will you then sweep away the place and not spare it for the fifty righteous who are in it?” (18:24).
Abraham believes that the entire city of wickedness should be spared on account of a few righteous. His question borders on assuming the answer: “Of course God would spare the whole city on behalf of the righteous.” The next verse tells us why.
Abraham continues in 18:25, “Far be it from you to do such a thing, to put the righteous to death with the wicked, so that the righteous fare as the wicked! Far be that from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?”
Abraham isn’t accusing God of being unjust. He’s saying that because God is just, he can’t wipe away the righteous with the wicked. It would be unjust to do so, and this is why Abraham seemingly assumes the answer in his question. But, of course, Abraham is merely a man, and we see examples throughout Scripture of people who have skewed perspectives.
Yet, I don’t think Abraham has a skewed perspective here. For one, far from rebuking Abraham for his strong words, God promises that he will not destroy the whole city if he finds fifty righteous, seemingly indicating his agreement with Abraham (18:26). Additionally, Lot—whom Peter calls righteous (2 Pet. 2:7)—is indeed saved by God from the destruction of Sodom. Finally, Abraham never repents, nor does the narrative ever seem to critique Abraham’s words. By all accounts, Abraham’s words seem to be true: the righteous should not be punished alongside the wicked.
The passage leaves Abraham ignorant of the outcome. God’s departing promise is that he will not destroy the city if ten righteous people are present in it. The next time we see Abraham is in Genesis 19:27, where he goes up the mountain to speak with God and watches smoke rise from the ashes of Sodom. We have no record in Scripture of him meeting Lot again, no promise from God that Lot would be spared. Amid the mystery, Abraham is left with his faith in a just God. Abraham may not know that Lot survived. He may not know why God chose to destroy the city even with Lot there. But he does know that God is just and faithful, even when it seems like bad things might happen to good people.
The Mystery of Death
The second passage that speaks to this question is Ecclesiastes 8:14, where Solomon writes, “There is an enigma[1] that takes place on earth, that there are righteous people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the wicked, and there are wicked people to whom it happens according to the deeds of the righteous. I said that this also is enigma.”
The context reveals that Solomon is speaking of death. Here, like Abraham, Solomon wrestles with the mystery of the death of the righteous. How can this happen? How can the wicked survive in all their sin while the righteous die what seems to be the sinner’s death, despite their righteousness? How can bad things happen to righteous people?
Solomon doesn’t give us answers. Quite the opposite, in fact. He tells us that regardless of how hard we try, we will not find out all that God is doing in the world (8:17). We know he is still talking about the death of the righteous because he returns to this subject in 9:2, telling us again that “the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil,” that is, death. He doubles down, saying, “This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all” (9:3).
Solomon, writing inspired words of Scripture, tells us that the same death happening to both the righteous and the wicked is not only mysterious, but evil.
Assurance Greater Than Answers
When people come to us with questions of theodicy, seeking to understand how a good God could allow bad things to happen to people he saved, we can tend to be dismissive. We rightly cast focus onto Christ who, though innocent, suffered on our behalf, all the while unintentionally dodging the very question Scripture itself asks.
But when we come to Scripture with this question, it doesn’t blink. “You are asking the right question,” comes the reply from its pages. It gives us some answers—enabling salvation, producing holiness, refining faith—but much is left a mystery. It is a mystery why God causes bad and good to fall both on the righteous and unrighteous, but it is not a mystery that God does it.
Perhaps that’s scary for you. You know God as a comforter, not a pain-giver, and the thought of him knowingly causing bad things to happen is uncomfortable. But to you, my friend, I say this: God is a good God. He is sovereign and in control, and that’s a very good thing. We don’t always know why God brings bad upon the good, but we know that he is always just, and he will ultimately more than make up for anything we’ve lost or any pain we’ve felt.
This makes all the difference.
So often when bad things happen, we turn to Scripture with our questions. We want answers, but instead we find promises. Promises of eternal life, of pain becoming a thing of the past, of wrongs made right, and of justice that will be done. And this means that even in the enigma of pain and suffering, even in the mystery of bad things happening to righteous people, we don’t have to fear.
You don’t always know what God is doing in your life. But he does. So you can trust him.
[1] I understand the Hebrew term hebel, often translated “vanity,” to refer more accurately to “mystery.” See Jason S. DeRouchie, “Shepherding Wind and One Wise Shepherd: Grasping for Breath in Ecclesiastes,” The Southern Baptist Journal of Theology 15.3 (2011): 4–25.