Why Bad Things Happen to Good People: whys of pain

Whys of Pain

We’ve all heard it, or maybe whispered it through tears: “Why would a loving God allow this to happen?”

It’s one of the oldest and most painful questions of faith and humanity. When tragedy strikes, when a loved one dies too young, when an innocent child suffers, or when we see war, famine, and cruelty ravage the world, our hearts cry out for answers. Why do bad things happen to good people?

For anyone who has lost someone they love, who’s watched life crumble despite their prayers and goodness, this question is not theoretical. It’s personal. It cuts to the core of our faith, our understanding of justice, and our relationship with God.

The Unanswered Question

When my own heart was broken by loss, I wrestled with this question over and over. I asked God why. I wondered what purpose pain could serve. I searched the Scriptures and sought comfort in faith, yet at times the silence felt deafening.

The Bible doesn’t offer simple answers. Job, a righteous man who suffered greatly, demanded an explanation from God, but instead of a tidy answer, God reminded him of the vastness of divine wisdom. We may never fully understand the “why,” but we can come to know Who walks with us through the pain.

There’s a mystery in suffering that no theology can completely solve. Yet, in the struggle, many have found something profound, not a reason for suffering, but a reason to keep going through it.

It’s one thing to endure personal hardship, but another to witness the suffering of the innocent — children caught in war, families destroyed by violence, or victims of atrocities. These images pierce our conscience and challenge our faith at its deepest level.

Viktor Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, confronted this question in its most horrific form. In Nazi concentration camps, he witnessed the worst of human evil: families torn apart, people beaten to death, and children sent to gas chambers. Every shred of decency and logic seemed obliterated. If ever there was a place to lose faith in God and humanity, it was there.

And yet, Frankl found meaning even in the midst of madness. In his landmark book Man’s Search for Meaning, he wrote about how people who survived were not always the strongest, but often those who held on to a sense of purpose — love for another, faith in God, or a vision of something greater than the pain. He said,

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

Frankl realized that while suffering is inevitable, despair is not a necessary consequence. Even when stripped of everything — freedom, dignity, identity, and family — a person can still choose to love, to hope, and to believe.

Still, this does not ease the pain of witnessing innocent lives lost. Even now, we see it happening around the world: children killed in bombings, refugees fleeing war zones, people suffering from diseases they didn’t cause. These stories stay with us, and the question remains:

How could a loving God allow such pain?

The Limits of Our Understanding

When Rabbi Harold Kushner lost his young son to a rare disease, he also asked this question. His book “When Bad Things Happen to Good People” became a source of comfort to millions because it expressed what many feel but cannot say aloud: that life can be cruel and that faith does not guarantee protection from suffering.

Kushner came to believe that while God may not cause our pain, God is present within it, offering strength, compassion, and the courage to go on. He wrote,

“God does not send the problem; He sends us the strength to deal with the problem.”

This resonates with what Viktor Frankl discovered in the camps, that meaning is not found in avoiding suffering, but in transforming it.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus himself says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33). He never promised a pain-free life. What He promised was His presence, that in every heartbreak, He would be there.

Frankl often quoted Friedrich Nietzsche, the philosopher:

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.”

Although Nietzsche was not a man of faith, his insight resonated deeply with Viktor Frankl, who observed in the camps that those who clung to a sense of purpose — whether it was love, faith, or hope — could endure even the harshest suffering. Frankl frequently quoted this line to demonstrate that meaning is what sustains the human spirit, even in the darkest times. That “why,” for him and for many of us, becomes the lifeline through the storm. For some, it’s the memory of a loved one. For others, it’s faith in God’s promise that suffering is not the end of the story.

In my own life, after losing my son Kevin, I learned that pain and faith can coexist. For a long time, I needed to understand why before I could move forward. But gradually, I realized that I don’t have to have the answers; I have to trust that even in the valley of tears, God is still present.

When I see the suffering of innocent children, whether in the Holocaust, today’s wars, or hospitals fighting for their lives, my heart breaks, and I no longer try to explain it. I focus on “how” I can make a difference; it shifts my perspective and brings comfort in knowing that love still exists, and it’s love that redeems what evil tries to destroy.

Pain has a way of stripping away illusions. It reveals what’s real and what truly matters. We learn humility, compassion, and empathy. We stop chasing shallow happiness, ignore unkind and selfish people, and begin pursuing lasting joy — the kind that endures even when life breaks our hearts.

Frankl witnessed this transformation firsthand. In the concentration camps, those who dwelled on bitterness and hate often lost their spirit before their bodies gave out. However, those who clung to purpose, even something as simple as imagining being reunited with loved ones, unlocked a strength beyond themselves.

Similarly, faith teaches that suffering can deepen our souls. Paul wrote in Romans 5:3-5, “We find joy in our struggles, understanding that suffering leads to endurance, which in turn builds character, and character cultivates hope, a hope that never disappoints us.”

That doesn’t mean we rejoice in pain, but rather that we can still find meaning within it.

Perhaps the most challenging part of all is witnessing innocent suffering, the kind we see in children in wars or disasters, and their lives cut short. No theology can make that right. We recoil at it because our hearts instinctively know that it’s unjust. In the Holocaust, there are countless stories of children who faced death with unimaginable courage, often comforting the adults around them. Their innocence was not erased by evil, but it shone all the more brightly against unimaginable evil. So maybe the better question isn’t:

“Why do bad things happen to good people?” but“How do good people keep faith, love, and meaning alive in a world where bad things happen?”That’s what Viktor Frankl’s life teaches. It’s what Rabbi Kushner reminded us. It’s what Jesus showed on the cross: suffering, while real, does not have the final word. Empathy, kindness, and love in action do.

Suffering will always be a mystery, but it can also serve as a teacher. It humbles us, unites us, and opens our hearts to compassion we might never have experienced otherwise.

Closing Reflection

When life shatters our understanding of fairness, and when we cry out, “Why did this happen?” or “Why me?”, we are not alone in those questions. People across the centuries—from Job to Frankl to every grieving parent—have asked the same question.

Pain may never make sense, but it can still make us more human, more loving, and more aware of God’s quiet presence in our suffering. And maybe, just maybe, that’s how light enters even the darkest places.

C. S. Lewis, who grieved deeply after his wife’s death, captured this beautifully:“But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

Nothing can ease the pain of losing my son, Kevin, tragically. But my journey through grief has shown me a profound truth: life is unpredictable and challenging, and suffering is part of life’s journey, not a punishment or test. What matters is our response: the love we share, the resilience we build, and the wisdom we gain.

I genuinely appreciate your comment and perspective on this complex topic, as I recognize that many people hold differing opinions.