God Can't Prevent Evil
Post 2 in the “God Can’t” Series: A God of Love, Not Control
God Can’t Prevent Evil
Post 2 in the “God Can’t” Series: A God of Love, Not Control
If God truly is love, then God does not, and cannot, control others. That means God can’t prevent all evil. Not because God is absent or weak, but because real love never coerces. God is always present, always loving, always working for healing, but never forces outcomes. That’s not the loss of divine power. It’s the revelation of divine love.
NOTE: The central insight of this post, and this whole series, comes from the work of Dr.
, theologian and author of God Can’t. His writing has been deeply influential in my faith journey, giving me language for what I had already begun to experience in my own life: that God is love, not control. His work helped me rediscover the Jesus I’ve always trusted, and reimagine a vision of God more beautiful than I ever dared to believe. I’m deeply grateful.The Question We Are Not Supposed To Ask
If God is love…
If God is good…
If God is powerful…
Why didn’t God stop it?
That’s the question behind so many others.
It’s the question I asked with every breath after chemo.
It’s the question in the quiet tears of abuse survivors.
It’s the question whispered by parents beside a casket.
It’s the question so many of us were told not to ask.
But I believe that asking it, honestly, painfully, relentlessly, is not a sign of weak faith.
It’s the beginning of real faith.
Because the version of God who could stop evil but doesn’t?
That’s not love. That’s indifference. Or worse.
The Problem of Evil
Theologians call it “the problem of evil.”
And they’ve been arguing about it for centuries.
It goes like this:
If God is all-powerful, God could stop evil.
If God is all-loving, God would want to stop evil.
But evil still exists.
So either God isn’t loving, isn’t powerful, or… something else is going on.
When I first started wrestling with this, the answers I found in books and sermons felt hollow.
“God allowed this for a reason.”
“This is part of God’s mysterious plan.”
“You’ll understand someday.”
But here’s the truth:
If God is love, then God doesn’t stand by while people suffer, not even for a mysterious reason.
What If God Can’t?
The most freeing and faithful answer I’ve found is this:
God doesn’t won’t stop evil.
God can’t.
Not because God is weak.
But because God is love,
And love doesn’t control.
Love doesn’t force.
Love doesn’t override.
Love doesn’t insist on its own way.
“Love… does not insist on its own way.” 1 Corinthians 13:5 (NRSV)
If that’s true of human love, how much more true is it of divine love?
God’s power isn’t coercion.
It’s participation.
Not manipulation, but presence.
Not domination, but persuasion.
Not puppetry, but partnership.
This Changes Everything
It means:
God didn’t cause the cancer.
God didn’t allow the abuse.
God didn’t “need” your suffering for some higher purpose.
God was not behind your pain.
God was beside you in it.
“A God who cannot suffer is poorer than any human. For a God who is incapable of suffering is a being who cannot be involved.” Jürgen Moltmann
The cross shows us what God is really like.
Not in control, but in love.
Not orchestrating evil, but absorbing it.
Not coercing outcomes, but entering into our wounds.
Doesn’t This Make God Powerless?
No.
It makes God powerful in the way that matters most.
God’s power is the power of uncontrolling love, what theologian Thomas Jay Oord calls amipotence (from amare, “to love”).
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:5
God is always at work.
Always loving.
Always offering a better way.
But never forcing.
Because that’s what love does.
Why This Matters
This idea, that God can’t prevent evil, might sound scary at first.
But for me, it became the most hopeful truth I’d ever heard.
Because it means:
The horror wasn’t holy.
The trauma wasn’t part of God’s plan.
The suffering wasn’t “allowed” to teach a lesson.
And that means:
God is truly good.
Truly loving.
Truly with us.
A Word of Gratitude
Before we close, I want to honor someone whose work has helped shape this journey.
Dr.
is the theologian behind the book God Can’t, and the one who first introduced me to this bold and beautiful idea:That love is never controlling. And if God is love, then God’s power must be uncontrolling too.
What I found in his writing wasn’t just a theory, it was a lifeline.
His framework helped me name what I had been sensing all along in my walk with Jesus.
Not a new God.
Not a new Gospel.
But a new clarity about the God I already knew:
The God who suffers with us, and never stops loving us.
So much of what I’m sharing in this series was sparked by his work, and I’m deeply grateful.
Next Time: God Feels Our Pain
If God can’t prevent evil, is God still emotionally present?
Does God just “watch” our suffering?
Next week, we’ll explore this beautiful truth:
God feels our pain.
We’ll look at a God who doesn’t just know about your sorrow, but shares it.
Who weeps. Who aches. Who breathes with you through it all.
Until then, may you know:
You are not abandoned.
Your suffering is not divine.
And God’s love will never stop working for your good.
Reflect + Respond
What were you taught to believe about suffering and God’s control?
Does the idea that God can’t prevent evil offer you comfort or raise more questions?
I’d love to hear from you in the comments, or feel free to simply sit with this.
You’re not alone.
Great stuff, Paul! I'd love to publish the whole series on the C4ORT website. Interested? If so, send me the whole document and headshot as an email.
There is a fine line between “God cannot stop evil,” and “God, in love, allows us to choose, sometimes choosing evil.” God allows us to choose. He always planned to allow us to choose “from before the foundation of the world,” knowing we would choose evil, be rebellious and knowing, in His love, what that would cost him: death, even death on a cross. Praise God for the resurrection, for the promise that He will wipe away every tear. He doesn’t take away the pain. He wipes away the tears. He shares our pain, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. He has shared and continues to share our suffering.
May we joyfully enter into His suffering, though it be a melancholy joy.