Evil Does not Reign

The evening sun cast long shadows across the courtyard as Paul sat wearily on a stone bench, his weathered hands clasped before him. Luke approached quietly, medical bag in hand, having just tended to a sick child in the neighboring house. He noticed the troubled expression on his friend’s face.

“What weighs on your mind, Paul?” Luke asked, setting down his bag and taking a seat beside the apostle.

Paul lifted his gaze to the darkening sky. “I’ve been thinking about young Timothy’s question from this morning. The one about evil in the world.” He paused, his brow furrowed. “It’s a question I’ve wrestled with countless times, yet each time I hear it asked anew, it strikes deep into my heart.”

Luke nodded slowly. “The boy’s mother was murdered by bandits, wasn’t she? Such senseless violence…”

“Yes,” Paul replied, his voice heavy with emotion. “He asked me why God allows such evil to exist. Why doesn’t He simply destroy all wickedness and end our suffering?” He turned to face Luke. “You’re a physician, my friend. You’ve seen more than your share of suffering. What do you tell people when they ask you this?”

Luke was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve held the hands of dying children, watched parents weep over still bodies, seen the ravages of disease and hunger. Each time, I too have wondered.” He picked up a small stone from the ground, turning it over in his hands. “But I’ve also seen remarkable things. I’ve seen how suffering often brings out extraordinary courage and compassion in people.”

“Go on,” Paul encouraged, leaning forward slightly.

“Today, when I was treating that sick child, her older sister never left her side. She’s been feeding her, cleaning her, singing to her through the fever. Their parents died last year, yet this girl, barely more than a child herself, has shown more love and strength than many grown adults I know.” Luke set the stone down carefully. “Would we see such beautiful expressions of love if there was no darkness to overcome?”

Paul nodded thoughtfully. “There’s wisdom in what you say. I’m reminded of what I wrote to the Romans - that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. But still…” He stood up and began to pace. “It’s one thing to understand this in our minds, another entirely to feel it in our hearts when we’re face to face with evil.”

“Like young Timothy,” Luke added softly.

“Like Timothy,” Paul agreed. “I told him about my own experiences with suffering - the beatings, the imprisonments, the shipwrecks. I shared how each trial helped shape me, brought me closer to understanding Christ’s suffering. But do you know what he said to me?”

Luke shook his head.

“He said, ‘But Paul, you chose your suffering. You chose to follow Christ and preach His word. My mother made no such choice. She was simply walking home from the market.’” Paul’s voice cracked slightly. “How do you answer such raw truth?”

Luke stood and placed a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him about the garden,” Paul replied, his eyes distant. “About how God gave humans the freedom to choose between good and evil. How that choice was necessary for love to be real and meaningful. But even as I spoke the words, they felt… insufficient.”

“They often do,” Luke agreed. “Words can feel hollow in the face of fresh grief.”

Paul resumed his pacing. “You know, Luke, I’ve been thinking about what you once told me about your work as a physician. How sometimes, to heal a wound, you must first let it bleed clean. How cutting away infected flesh, though painful, can save a life. Perhaps…” He paused, considering his words carefully. “Perhaps evil in this world serves a similar purpose. Not that God creates it or desires it, but that He allows it to work ultimately toward healing.”

Luke’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Go on.”

“Think about it,” Paul continued, his voice growing more animated. “When we see evil, truly see it, doesn’t it awaken something in us? A hunger for justice? A desire for something better? Doesn’t it drive us to seek God more earnestly?”

“Like a disease that drives us to seek a physician,” Luke mused.

“Exactly! And not just to seek healing for ourselves, but to become healers for others.” Paul sat back down beside Luke. “When I was Saul, I thought I was serving God by persecuting His church. I was blind to my own evil. It wasn’t until I encountered Christ on the road to Damascus that I truly saw myself for what I was. The shock of that recognition - the horror of realizing what I had done - it broke me completely. But from that brokenness came new life.”

Luke listened intently, his physician’s mind making connections. “So you’re suggesting that evil serves as a kind of… diagnostic tool? Something that reveals the true condition of our hearts?”

“Perhaps,” Paul nodded. “But more than that. Think of how evil often brings people together. When there’s a disaster - a fire, a flood - have you noticed how people unite to help each other? Strangers become brothers. The walls we build between each other fall away.”

“I’ve seen it countless times,” Luke agreed. “During the last earthquake in Antioch, I saw Jews and Gentiles working side by side to rescue people from the rubble. No one cared about ancestry or status then.”

“Exactly!” Paul exclaimed. “Evil can destroy, yes, but it can also expose what truly matters. Strip away our pretenses. Reveal our common humanity.” He paused, his voice softening. “But Luke, I still struggle. Because even if good can come from evil, even if God can work through it for His purposes… it doesn’t make the evil itself any less evil. It doesn’t make the pain any less real.”

Luke was quiet for a moment, watching the last rays of sunlight fade from the courtyard. “No, it doesn’t,” he finally said. “And perhaps that’s something we need to acknowledge more openly. Maybe part of our problem is that we try too hard to explain evil, to make sense of it, when sometimes we just need to sit with those who are suffering and share their pain.”

Paul nodded slowly. “You’re right. When Job’s friends first came to comfort him, they sat with him in silence for seven days. It was only when they started trying to explain his suffering that they went wrong.” He sighed heavily. “I wonder sometimes if I talk too much, try to explain too much. Maybe with Timothy, I should have…”

“You did what you could,” Luke interrupted gently. “You spoke from your heart and your experience. That’s all any of us can do.”

“But is it enough?” Paul asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Luke considered this carefully. “Perhaps the question isn’t whether it’s enough, but whether it’s true. You didn’t give Timothy easy answers because there aren’t any. You shared your own struggles, your own journey of understanding. That’s not nothing, Paul.”

Paul stood again, this time walking to the edge of the courtyard where a small olive tree grew. He touched its leaves gently. “You know, Luke, I’ve been thinking about something else. We talk about evil as if it’s this great mystery, this philosophical puzzle to be solved. But what if we’re approaching it wrong? What if evil isn’t really the mystery at all?”

Luke tilted his head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. Evil, at its core, is simply the absence of good, the rejection of God’s way. It’s what happens naturally when we turn away from the light. The real mystery - the true miracle - is goodness. Love. Sacrifice.” Paul’s voice grew stronger as he continued. “When I see someone like Timothy’s sister, choosing to love and forgive despite her loss… that’s the real mystery. When I see people giving up their comfort, their safety, their very lives for others… that’s what I can’t fully explain.”

“Like Christ Himself,” Luke added softly.

“Yes, exactly like Christ,” Paul agreed emphatically. “The mystery isn’t why God allows evil. The mystery is that He loved us so much that He entered into our suffering, took it upon Himself, transformed it through His death and resurrection. The mystery is that He continues to work through people like you, Luke, bringing healing and hope into dark places.”

Luke stood and joined Paul by the olive tree. “So when people ask why God allows evil to reign…”

“We can tell them that He doesn’t,” Paul finished. “Evil doesn’t reign. It rages, yes. It destroys and hurts and kills. But it doesn’t reign. Love reigns. Good reigns. Even in the darkest places, light breaks through. Even in the worst suffering, hope remains. Evil is temporary; God’s love is eternal.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching as the first stars appeared in the darkening sky. Finally, Luke spoke again. “Tomorrow, when you see Timothy…”

“I’ll tell him all of this,” Paul said. “But first, I’ll listen. Really listen. And I’ll remind him that it’s okay to question, to doubt, to be angry. God is big enough to handle our anger and our questions.”

“And our tears,” Luke added gently, noticing the moisture in Paul’s eyes.

“Yes, and our tears,” Paul agreed, wiping his eyes. “You know, Luke, I’ve written so many letters, preached so many sermons about suffering and evil. But sometimes I think the most important thing we can do is simply be present with those who are hurting. To weep with those who weep, as I wrote to the Romans.”

“It’s what Christ does for us,” Luke observed. “He doesn’t always take away our suffering, but He’s always present in it.”

Paul nodded, touching the rough bark of the olive tree. “That’s what I want Timothy to understand. Not just in his head, but in his heart. That even in his darkest moments, he’s not alone. That his pain matters to God. That his questions and doubts don’t diminish his faith - they’re part of it.”

“That’s quite different from what you first planned to tell him,” Luke noted with a slight smile.

Paul chuckled softly. “Yes, well, sometimes the Spirit works through our conversations, doesn’t He? Speaking of which…” He glanced at the now-dark sky. “We should probably head inside. It’s getting late.”

As they gathered their things, Luke placed a hand on Paul’s arm. “Paul? Thank you. For sharing your struggles with me. For being honest about your doubts. It helps to know that even the great Apostle Paul wrestles with these questions.”

Paul smiled warmly. “And thank you, dear physician, for helping me see things from a different perspective. Tomorrow will be difficult, but I feel better prepared to talk with Timothy now.”

“Just remember,” Luke said as they walked toward the house, “sometimes the most powerful answer to why God allows evil is simply being there for those who are suffering, showing them God’s love in practical ways.”

“Like a certain physician I know?” Paul asked with a knowing smile.

Luke shrugged modestly. “We all have our parts to play in God’s story. Speaking of which, I should check on that sick child one more time before I turn in.”