Going Beyond Why

Proposition in Question:

“The gratuitous and horrifying nature of so much suffering in the world renders the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, and wholly good God profoundly implausible.” – William L. Rowe

Thesis:

While our finite human perspective makes it impossible to judge suffering as ultimately gratuitous, the Christian answer to the problem of evil is not found in a future explanation of a hidden good. Rather, it is grounded in the promise of a future redemptive transformation, prefigured in the Cross and Resurrection, where suffering is not explained away but is given its meaning in the very act of its transformation by God.

Introduction

The gratuitous and horrifying nature of so much suffering doesn’t render a good God implausible. But it does reveal something important: our human perspective is too limited to make the kind of comprehensive judgments that critics of theism want to make. In this essay, I would argue that we simply don’t have the cognitive capacity or lifespan to determine whether suffering is ultimately pointless. But more importantly, I want to show that the very demand for explanations misunderstands how God actually responds to evil.

The classic example used to argue against God’s existence is a fawn stuck in the midst of a forest fire.¹ People holding to this view would argue that there’s no plausible reason why the fawn had to suffer. There’s no reason it should suffer—at least no immediate reason that we can see. This is used as an argument in favor of atheism. The idea is that if there’s so much pointless suffering, especially in the animal world, then an all-loving, omniscient, and omnipotent God becomes less plausible.

But here’s the thing: this whole approach assumes that God’s job is to explain suffering to us—to show us how each painful experience serves some greater instrumental good. What if that’s not how God works at all? What if God’s response to suffering isn’t explanation but redemptive transformation? What if suffering finds its meaning not in being justified but in being transformed? The Cross shows us God’s solidarity with victims, while the Resurrection reveals His power to transform suffering itself into something entirely new—scarred hands that tell the story not just of pain endured, but of death itself being defeated.

The Problem with Our Limited Perspective

William Rowe, who really popularized this argument, put it this way:

There exist instances of intense suffering which an omnipotent, omniscient being could have prevented without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse.
An omniscient, wholly good being would prevent the occurrence of any intense suffering it could, unless it could not do so without thereby losing some greater good or permitting some evil equally bad or worse.
There does not exist an omnipotent, omniscient, wholly good being.²

Now, this argument is valid. But is it sound? That depends entirely on whether we can actually make the kind of judgments required by premise one. How do we know what an omnipotent, omniscient God could accomplish without losing equal or greater good? Our cognitive limitations and brief lifespans put us in no position to make such calculations.

Philosophers Timothy Perrine and Stephen Wykstra put it well: “If the theistic God does exist, then very likely there is a divine-human gap such that we humans should, for many evils in our world, not expect to grasp the divine purposes and reckonings behind God’s allowing these evils.”³ They’re not saying God’s reasons are unknowable, but that we shouldn’t expect to know them from our limited vantage point.

The Apostle Paul captures this when he says, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12 ESV). But here’s the key question: what if “knowing fully” doesn’t mean getting explanations for every instance of suffering? What if it means experiencing complete redemptive transformation?

The Cosmic Fall

Before we talk about God’s response to evil, we need to understand where evil comes from. The classical free will defense doesn’t really work for natural evil since human free will isn’t directly involved in animal suffering or natural disasters.⁴

This is where the doctrine of the Cosmic Fall becomes crucial.⁵ When Adam and Eve sinned, corruption didn’t just affect human nature—it affected the entire created order. It’s not only a matter of human ontology. Scripture tells us that “cursed is the ground for thy sake” (Genesis 3:17 KJV). What was originally perfect and harmonious began showing chaos and suffering. This explains why there’s suffering throughout creation—not as God’s intended design, but as the result of cosmic rebellion against His rule.

“An enemy has done this” (Matthew 13:28 NKJV) is how Jesus explains the presence of evil. Evil is an intruder. It’s completely unnecessary and foreign to God’s original purpose for the universe. This framework is crucial because it shows that God isn’t the author of evil and suffering—He’s its opponent. Suffering doesn’t represent divine intention but cosmic distortion. It’s a fundamental corruption of God’s good creation that He’s actively working to transform.

Beyond the Utilitarian Trap

Here’s where traditional theodicies often go wrong. They try to justify God’s permission of evil by showing how each instance serves some greater instrumental good. This approach, while intellectually sophisticated, falls into what I’d call the “utilitarian trap.” It reduces victims to mere means in a cosmic calculation. It suggests that their suffering is ultimately justified because it produces some equal or greater benefit.

The profound moral problem with this line of reasoning can be illustrated with an analogy. Imagine a brilliant surgeon who has five patients who will die without organ transplants. With no donors available, she decides to kill one healthy patient in the next room, harvesting their organs to save the other five. When she’s caught, her defense is purely logical and utilitarian: “I made a calculated decision. The suffering and death of the one was justified by the greater good of saving the five. I can explain the flawless logic of my thought process.”

Now, someone might rightly object that God is not like the surgeon, because God doesn’t author evil but rather redeems an evil that’s already present in a fallen world. This is a crucial and correct distinction. God is a redeemer, not an originator of evil.

However, even with this distinction, the explanatory model still faces a profound moral challenge. An omnipotent God could, at any moment, intervene to heal a suffering child. If He chooses to permit that suffering to continue because He intends to use it for some greater good, the problem of instrumentalization remains. The question simply shifts from the act of causing to the act of permitting.

We’re still left with an inescapable moral question: Is a victim’s suffering justified if it’s knowingly permitted for the benefit of others? It’s at this difficult juncture, where even a refined explanatory model seems morally insufficient, that we’re compelled to look for a different kind of divine response—not one of explanation, but one of transformation.

The redemptive transformation model offers something completely different. Instead of asking “What greater good does this suffering serve?” we recognize that suffering doesn’t serve any good—it’s evil that needs to be transformed. God’s response to suffering isn’t to use it but to redeem it. The meaning suffering gets comes not from serving a purpose but from being transformed through divine power.

This distinction matters. In explanatory models, suffering’s meaning comes from its instrumental value—what it contributes to some greater good. In the redemptive transformation model, suffering’s meaning comes from its transformation. The fawn’s suffering doesn’t get meaning by serving God’s purposes; it gets meaning when God’s redemptive power transforms it into something beautiful.

Ellen White, talking about why God allowed Satan’s rebellion to continue, gives us insight into this framework:

The inhabitants of heaven and of the worlds, being unprepared to comprehend the nature or consequences of sin, could not then have seen the justice of God in the destruction of Satan. Had he been immediately blotted out of existence, some would have served God from fear rather than from love. The influence of the deceiver would not have been fully destroyed, nor would the spirit of rebellion have been utterly eradicated. For the good of the entire universe through ceaseless ages, he must more fully develop his principles, that his charges against the divine government might be seen in their true light by all created beings, and that the justice and mercy of God and the immutability of His law might be forever placed beyond all question.⁶

This shows God’s method: not immediate suppression but complete exposure and ultimate transformation. God allows evil to reveal its true character so it can be permanently eliminated. This isn’t a utilitarian calculation—it’s a redemptive strategy. God isn’t using evil for good purposes; He’s working to transform evil entirely while preserving the freedom and trust of His creatures.

Christ as Exhibit A

The ultimate proof of God’s redemptive transformation approach is found in Christ’s Cross and Resurrection. The Cross shows that God doesn’t stay distant from suffering—He enters into it completely. As Jürgen Moltmann argues, God becomes the victim of evil, suffering not only with humanity but for humanity.⁷ The Cross proves that God takes suffering seriously—it’s not dismissed, minimized, or explained away.

But the Cross alone would only give us divine solidarity. The Christian’s hope is so much more than God’s compassion toward our suffering! The Resurrection changes everything by proving God’s power to transform suffering itself. The risen Christ bears nail-scarred hands—not as erasures of His pain but as transformed marks of victory. The scars tell the story not of suffering explained but of suffering transformed.

This is the pattern for all redemptive transformation. God doesn’t remove the memory or reality of suffering; He transforms it into something beautiful. The scars become marks of victory rather than just reminders of pain. Paul captures this when he writes that “our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Corinthians 4:17). This isn’t utilitarian logic—Paul isn’t saying troubles are instrumentally valuable. He’s declaring that God’s redemptive power will transform troubles into glory.

The Hope of the Resurrection

The resurrection hope promises not just future understanding but future transformation. Every victim of suffering won’t just learn why they suffered—they’ll experience the complete transformation of their suffering. Our current cognitive limitations will be overcome not just by expanded knowledge but by transformed existence.

This transformation is already beginning through the Spirit’s work. God is presently bringing “beauty from ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness” (Isaiah 61:3 NKJV). The fawn’s suffering, while genuinely tragic, becomes part of a larger story of cosmic redemption where God will “wipe away every tear” and make “all things new” (Revelation 21:4-5).

The ultimate meaning of suffering isn’t found in explanations of why it was necessary but in the reality of its complete transformation. When God creates the new heavens and new earth, suffering won’t be explained—it will be transformed. The question “Why did this happen?” will be replaced by the declaration “This has been overcome.”

Possible Objections

Moral Paralysis

Someone might argue against this by saying, “If we can’t tell whether suffering serves God’s redemptive purposes, why should we ever try to help people? If God might be using their pain for some greater good we can’t understand, wouldn’t helping them work against God’s plan? Should we just stand by and watch the house burn or the child go hungry, thinking it might be part of God’s will?”

This misunderstands the relationship between God’s revealed will and His providential will. God’s revealed will is clearly expressed through the Bible—we must love our neighbors, we must save and protect life, etc. When someone’s family is stuck in a burning house, we don’t question whether it’s God’s will to let them suffer or to rescue them. We know with certainty from His revealed will that we should act compassionately.

Besides, the redemptive transformation model actually strengthens rather than weakens our moral obligations. If suffering is genuinely evil—something to be transformed—then our efforts to alleviate it align perfectly with God’s redemptive mission.

The Problem of Divine Instrumentalization

Some might argue that even the redemptive transformation model reduces victims to instruments of God’s glory. If God transforms suffering into beauty, doesn’t this justify the original evil?

This fundamentally misunderstands transformation versus utilization. When God transforms suffering, He isn’t declaring it good or necessary—He’s redeeming an enemy. Redemption is restoration, not justification. God’s ability to bring good from evil doesn’t make evil desirable or necessary. Evil remains evil, but God’s redemptive power is greater than evil’s destructive force. The resurrection doesn’t justify the crucifixion; it transforms it.

The Meaninglessness of Divine Goodness

Critics might say, “If God’s reasons are completely beyond our understanding, then His ‘goodness’ becomes a meaningless term. A God whose ‘good’ actions are indistinguishable from what we’d call ‘horrific evil’ isn’t a being we can meaningfully call good or trust.”

This reveals the inadequacy of purely rational approaches to divine goodness. God’s goodness isn’t demonstrated through logical proofs but through redemptive action. The Cross shows His solidarity with victims; the Resurrection displays His power over evil. These aren’t abstract arguments but historical realities that reveal God’s character as both compassionate and victorious.

Besides, the redemptive transformation model actually strengthens rather than weakens our understanding of divine goodness. A God who transforms evil is more clearly good than one who merely uses evil for ulterior purposes.

Conclusion

There’s no denying that gratuitous and horrendous suffering exists in our world. But this doesn’t make belief in an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving God implausible. Our finite perspective disqualifies us from determining whether suffering is ultimately gratuitous, but more importantly, the demand for explanatory justification misunderstands God’s response to evil.

The evidential argument from evil fails because it demands the wrong kind of answer. God’s ultimate response to suffering isn’t explanation but redemptive transformation, not utilitarian justification but divine restoration. Evil gets meaning not by serving good purposes but by being transformed by good power.

The Christian’s comfort doesn’t come from future explanations but from promised transformation. Our hope doesn’t rest in understanding why we suffered but in experiencing suffering’s complete redemption. While we can’t now see how God will transform every instance of evil, we trust in His character as revealed in Scripture and demonstrated supremely in Christ’s death and resurrection.

The resurrection gives us confidence that we’ll experience not just understanding but complete transformation. When we see Him face to face, our limited vision will give way not to perfect explanations but to perfect restoration. We’ll discover that God’s response to suffering wasn’t utilitarian management but redemptive transformation—He didn’t use our pain for good purposes; He transformed our pain with resurrection power.

In that day, we’ll understand that our questions should never have centered on “Why did God allow this suffering?” but rather we will see that God’s wisdom justifies His actions and we will asked with awe “How completely has God transformed it?” The answer will surpass our highest expectations, because the meaning of suffering is found not in its explanation but in its transformation, not in its justification but in its redemption, not in its purpose but in its complete restoration by the God who makes all things new. God is the Redeemer of the Rain!

Notes

¹ William L. Rowe, “The Problem of Evil and Some Varieties of Atheism,” American Philosophical Quarterly 16, no. 4 (October 1979): 337.

² Ibid., 336.

³ Timothy Perrine and Stephen J. Wykstra, “Skeptical Theism,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Problem of Evil, ed. Chad Meister and Paul K. Moser (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017), 86.

⁴ See Alvin Plantinga, God, Freedom and Evil (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1977).

⁵ Wayne Grudem, Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine, Second Edition (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Academic, 2020), 376.

⁶ Ellen G. White, Patriarchs and Prophets (Oakland, CA: Pacific Press Publishing Association, 1890), 42.

⁷ Jürgen Moltmann, The Crucified God: The Cross of Christ as the Foundation and Criticism of Christian Theology(Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 227-249.

Bibliography

Grudem, Wayne. Systematic Theology: An Introduction to Biblical Doctrine. Second Edition. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan Academic, 2020.

Moltmann, Jürgen. The Crucified God: The Cross of Christ as the Foundation and Criticism of Christian Theology. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993.

Perrine, Timothy, and Stephen J. Wykstra. “Skeptical Theism.” In The Cambridge Companion to the Problem of Evil, edited by Chad Meister and Paul K. Moser, 85–107. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017.

Plantinga, Alvin. God, Freedom and Evil. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1977.

Rowe, William L. “The Problem of Evil and Some Varieties of Atheism.” American Philosophical Quarterly 16, no. 4 (October 1979): 335–41.

Stump, Eleonore. Wandering in Darkness: Narrative and the Problem of Suffering. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010.

White, Ellen G. Patriarchs and Prophets. Oakland, CA: Pacific Press Publishing Association, 1890.