Why the F*#k Did God Allow That?

Fair warning: This isn’t a G-rated post. It’s honest, faith-based, and grounded in psychology. Even if you don’t share my faith, I believe there’s something here for everyone.

So... Why Does God Let Bad Things Happen?

It’s the question we’re afraid to ask. Christians fear it cheapens their faith. Non-Christians hurl it like a weapon, but rarely in earnest. 

But me? I ask it.

I ask it a lot.

And I don’t use clean language when I do.

Once, in seminary, I had the audacity to say, “I don’t think God minds when we swear at him.” You should have heard the room splinter.

I don't mean we should turn against God, but I do mean we don't need to hold back from expressing our emotions.

But here’s the thing: Job is in the Bible. And Job and his friends did not talk sweetly about God. Job’s wife told him to curse God and die. Why? Because God had taken everything from him. His family. His livelihood. His health. Job didn't take his wife's advice, but he did have some serious questions for God.

And when God finally answered (and seriously, by the time you slog through Job’s speeches and his friends’ lectures, you feel like you’ve lived half a life alongside him), God never gave an explanation. 

God didn’t give a reason for suffering. He didn’t offer theology. He didn’t hand Job a bandaid or a hug, or even an apology. 

No. When Job cried out, God showed up. Not with an answer, but a glimpse of his presence. His vastness. His power. His personhood. 

And somehow, that was enough.

Because healing doesn’t come from an explanation. It comes from an encounter.

Let me get personal here.

It all started when I asked someone about the pain I was carrying. With all the sugary sweetness of a church grandmother, I was told, “Never forget, Jesus is with you in your distress.”

That platitude changed how I viewed tragedy.

But not in a good way.

Because now all I could picture was a bloody girl, clawing at the carpet, begging for someone to ease her pain, while Jesus sat there cross-legged in a wooden chair, watching it all and shaking his head. Like the library lady reminding me to be quiet. 

And that image made me hate God.

I’ve never told anyone this before. I almost lost my faith over that question.

Why Would God Allow That?

And maybe this question is why you don’t believe in God. I can’t say I blame you.

People are always responding to that question. Usually with theology about the nature of God and the purpose of suffering or some such nonsense. Or platitudes.

None of it ever touched my wounds.

Then, one day, I heard almost the same words I’d first hated.

But this time, everything was different.

Because this time, I was told, “Jesus was WITHIN you.” 

He wasn’t watching and shaking his head from the sidelines.

He was the one pinned down. He was the one feeling the belt. The bruises. The blood.

His tears ran down my cheek.

And not only was he there, not only did he gather up my pain and bear it himself, but he is gathering up all the world’s pain. He holds the mother who lost a child in a school shooting. He holds the family grieving a father taken by violence. He comforts the widow. He soothes the lonely. 

And what does he do with all that pain and suffering? I believe all the blood and tears and injustice will one day be answered for. Suffering will be wiped from the face of the earth in one big, brutal, glorious judgment day. 

My faith gives me a God who doesn’t explain suffering away, but enters it. He bears it with the promise to end it. Maybe in this life, maybe the next. 

But maybe you don’t believe in my God.

That doesn’t mean you have to hold your pain alone.

Because here’s the truth I think anyone can hold onto. Healing comes when someone else enters into your pain with you. Sometimes it’s God. Sometimes it’s a counselor. Or a spouse. Or a friend.

The deepest healing isn’t about answers. It’s about being seen. Being heard. Being held.

So yeah, ask the question. I still do.

Why did God allow that?

I know there are deep theological answers, but that isn’t the point of this post.

The point is that when we ask, God doesn’t hide his face. 

He steps into our pain.

And that makes survival possible.