We ask so many questions of God. Why would God allow so many people to go to Hell? Why do bad things happen to good people? How could God let that happen to my loved one? Where is God when it hurts? What did I do to deserve His love? What must I do to keep my salvation? These questions rise out of real pain, confusion, and longing. We ask them because we’re trying to make sense of a world that often feels senseless.
And when answers don’t come quickly, we supply our own: They earned it. I must have done something good. I just need to work harder. Sometimes those answers soothe us for a moment — but often they don’t. They leave us restless because they’re built on the wrong foundation.
I think the problem is not that we ask questions, but that we ask them from the wrong perspective. We start with ourselves at the center. For example, the real question is not, “Why would God allow so many people to go to Hell?” The real question is, “Why would God bother saving any?” David asked, “What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You care for him?” (Psa 8:4). Paul echoed the same awe when he wrote that God was willing to “show His wrath and to make known His power” on “vessels of wrath prepared for destruction” — and yet He chose to show mercy (Rom 9:22–23). Paul wasn’t shocked by judgment; he was shocked by grace.
But we tend to assume we’re important enough that God should treat us a certain way. That’s exactly what Paul warned about: “Claiming to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man…” (Rom 1:22–23). We’ve made ourselves the reference point, and then we’re surprised when God doesn’t conform to our expectations.
“Why do bad things happen to good people?” They don’t. Scripture is painfully clear: “No one does good, not even one” (Rom 3:12). And yet God promises that “for those who love God all things work together for good” (Rom 8:28). “Where is God when it hurts?” He answers, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Heb 13:5). “What did I do to deserve His love?” Nothing. “If it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works; otherwise grace would no longer be grace” (Rom 11:6).
Our struggle comes from assuming God thinks like we do. He doesn’t. God says, “You thought that I was just like you” (Psa 50:21). But He also says, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways” (Isa 55:8). When we expect God to operate according to our sense of fairness, logic, or timing, we set ourselves up for disappointment.
The invitation is not to stop asking questions, but to start asking them from a posture of humility rather than entitlement. God is not obligated to fit our expectations. Instead, we are invited to let His thoughts reshape ours. The right questions begin when we stop trying to make God like us — and start learning to trust Him as He truly is.
