The world shatters our peace. It always has. We see it in the news—the headlines screaming of unimaginable pain and senseless destruction. We watch a family reel in the face of the brutal, unprovoked murder of Charlie Kirk, and a hollow ache forms in our stomach. We cry out, “Why? Why, God, do you permit this? Why didn’t You stop it?” We hurl our questions at a silent heaven, hoping for a voice that will soothe our fury and explain a world that seems to be in freefall. This is the oldest human question, and it is rooted in our own story.
Charlie Kirk, a Christian voice, a husband, a father, and an influencer, was gunned down while speaking publicly at Utah Valley University. (Ezra Institute)
This unspeakable act of evil propels the same questions: How could God allow this? Why does He permit injustice, cruelty, and bloodshed?
Let me share a theologian’s reflection: Randy Alcorn wrote, “In this fallen world… we weep. We rage. But—and here is the hope—we do so under the sovereignty of our God who is not distant.” He remembers how Charlie’s faith was genuine, that whether liberal or conservative, Christian or not, every life is sacred before God. The murder is evil—not because of politics, but because God made life, and Satan hates life. (Eternal Perspective Ministries)
Our choices are seismic. When someone fires a gun, they do evil—but the presence of evil does not erase the justice, love, or truth that God still intends to triumph. (Word on Fire)
To grasp why God allows such deep-seated evil to persist, we must pull back the curtain and look to the beginning. The book of Genesis, often viewed as an ancient fable, actually holds the key to the deepest problem of our modern world. In a garden bathed in Eden’s perfect light, God crafted humankind and gave us a profound, perilous gift: the power to choose. We were not stamped from a mold, pre-programmed for obedience. We were given agency, the glorious and terrifying ability to love and to act.
Why Evil?
One of the hardest questions Christians face is: Why doesn’t God stop misery or tragedy before it wreaks havoc? Can He? Should He? Does He?
From Genesis 3, we learn that evil entered the world because of human choice. Theological scholars, like Alvin Plantinga, have long defended the libertarian free will view—that for love to be real, choice must be real. If God forced us only to choose good, then our choices would be meaningless, our love contrived. (Beliefnet)
The world was made good. But God placed a tree—the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil—in Eden. Why? So that obedience would be a decision, not coercion. Sin’s doorway was wide open because real freedom came with real risk. (Beliefnet)
In the middle of this pristine paradise stood two trees—one, the tree of life, and the other, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God, in His sovereign goodness, issued a command: “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die” (Genesis 2:16-17, ESV). This was no arbitrary rule. It was an invitation to trust, to choose a relationship with our Creator over a counterfeit promise of self-sufficiency.
Satan slithered forth, speaking a twisted lie, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:4-5, ESV). The temptation was seductive. It promised knowledge and power. Eve, looking at the forbidden fruit, saw that it was “good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise” (Genesis 3:6, ESV). She reached out, plucked the fruit, and took a bite. She then handed it to Adam, who stood right beside her, and he ate.
In that singular, disastrous act, humanity chose to seize the authority God had reserved for Himself. They turned their backs on the Source of all goodness and, in doing so, inherited an existence defined by evil. They didn’t just break a rule; they shattered a relationship. And the consequences, as the Apostle Paul articulates, were catastrophic: “Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned…” (Romans 5:12, ESV). This is the devastating inheritance we received from our first parents.
Free Will and Its Cost
Free will is a glorious gift, but it’s costly. Because humans rebelled, moral evil was unleashed: lies, betrayals, wars, murders. But there’s more—natural evils too. Disease, disasters, and decay all followed. The corruption of nature came because creation itself was entangled in human rebellion. (Beliefnet)
Paul tells us that “sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin” (Romans 5:12). Scripture also teaches that we all sin, so we are all a part of the problem, “…for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23). And we are also taught that all who sin die, so we all experience the suffering that sin brings, “For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 6:23).
God does not will evil, but He permits human choice—even when it yields evil. This isn’t a shrug of cosmic indifference; it’s part of the framework God made. Choices matter. Consequences follow.
This brings us to a crucial point about God’s character. If He had intervened, if He had grabbed Adam and Eve’s hands and yanked them from the tree, He would have violated the very nature of the love He offers. He would have turned us into puppets, forced to obey. He would have erased the ability to truly love Him, because love, by its very definition, requires a free choice. As theologian Timothy Keller writes, “God will allow evil only to the degree that it brings about the very opposite of what it intends.” This paradox reveals a powerful truth: God is not a cosmic tyrant, but a loving Father who values our free will enough to allow us to make our own tragic mistakes.
We inherit a world broken by this monumental choice. Every act of hatred, every moment of selfishness, every tragedy that cuts our soul to the core is a consequence of that original fracture. When a murderer lifts a hand against an innocent person like Charlie Kirk, that brutal act is not an indication of God’s absence; it is a profound manifestation of the freedom God gave us. We are seeing humanity wield the power to choose evil, a power we begged for in Eden. The problem of evil is not that God fails to stop it; it’s that He chose to give us a world in which we are free to cause it.
Yet, this is not the end of the story. God did not abandon His creation in the wake of our rebellion. Instead, He entered it. The gospel shatters the logical puzzle of suffering by offering not a philosophical answer, but a person—Jesus Christ. On the cross, God did not simply watch our suffering; He joined it. He was nailed to a tree, paying the ultimate price for the evil we unleashed. He didn’t just talk about the problem of sin; He absorbed it. When He cried out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46, ESV), He was drinking the poison we brewed. He became the final, painful solution to the problem we created.
We may never fully understand why God permits the suffering we witness in our lives. The universe is far too complex for our minds to grasp His reasons. But what we can grasp is the profound reality of His loving sovereignty. We are invited to abandon the frantic search for human-level explanations and instead fall back into the arms of a God who is in complete control. The Bible tells us, “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28, ESV). This is a promise for those who trust Him, a quiet assurance that He is actively working behind the scenes, weaving our pain and confusion into a glorious tapestry of redemption.
What This Means for Us
We are not spectators. Our inheritance of sin and evil demands a response. Here’s what that looks like:
- Grief and Anger Are Honest: We can cry, we can rage, we can lament. God grieves with us. He knows the weight of evil. (Jesus wept over Lazarus. John 11:35.)
- Repentance: Recognizing our own sin—how we ourselves have chosen wrong, hurt others, neglected justice—is part of turning back to God.
- Faith in Jesus Christ: Only through the cross does evil’s power get broken. Only through resurrection does hope rise. Ephesians 2:1–5: “And you were dead in the trespasses and sins … but God, being rich in mercy … made us alive together with Christ …”
- Trusting His Sovereignty: Even when life is dark, when tragedy feels overwhelming, God is sovereign. Revelation 21:4 – He will wipe away every tear. Death, mourning, crying, and pain will be no more.
- Bold Witness: Let Charlie Kirk’s death remind us: speech matters. Truth matters. Our witness matters. We may risk, we may suffer—but God uses faithful voices to shine light in darkness.
So, let the world ask its questions. Let them point to tragedy and demand answers. Our response is not a clever retort but a quiet, powerful act of faith. We do not need to understand everything, because our hope is not in our own intellect, but in the sovereign love of our God. He is greater than our pain. He is wiser than our questions. And He stands ready to receive anyone who chooses to stop fighting Him, and instead to follow Him.
Paul puts it plainly in Colossians when he says, “He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:17, ESV). Think about that for a moment—all things hold together in Him. Christ isn’t just a distant figure or a spiritual guide; He’s the very glue of the universe. Every atom, every heartbeat, every moment of existence is sustained because Jesus wills it to be so. Elsewhere, Scripture tells us that He upholds everything “by the word of his power” (Hebrews 1:3, ESV).
If there’s one thing completely out of step with true Christianity, it’s the belief that the world just spins on its own, apart from God’s will or Christ’s sustaining power. I couldn’t take my next breath without my Father’s permission. Even those who scoff at Jesus, those who reject and insult Him, are living on borrowed breath—breath given and sustained by the very One they despise.
Here’s the staggering part: rulers, influencers, governments—the people plotting rebellion against God—can’t even carry out their schemes for a single second without Christ allowing it. Their power, their plans, their so-called victories exist only because He, in His mercy, lets them. That kind of grace is almost impossible to comprehend. The Son of God, who holds all life in His hands, patiently endures human rebellion while still sustaining the very rebels who rise up against Him. That’s the depth of His mercy and the vastness of His sovereignty.
Our inheritance from Adam is a world of sin and suffering. But our invitation from Christ is to a new life, a new inheritance. In Him, we find forgiveness for our own evil, and a peace that surpasses all understanding, a peace that can only be found in trusting Him alone.
If you have not yet repented, if you have not yet placed your trust in Christ alone for salvation, I invite you now. In His mercy, He offers forgiveness. In His truth, He promises life. In His sovereignty, He holds not only the tragedy of Charlie Kirk’s death—but your story, your sin, your hope, and your eternal future.
Let your life be surrendered. Let your heart be bowed. Let your trust not be in the frailty of humanity, but in the unshakeable love of God, who sent His Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life. (John 3:16–17)
For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
May we live like this—bold in faith, tender in compassion, hopeful in the face of evil—for our inheritance is not the curse alone, but the promise of new creation. Amen.