Life is messy. Honestly, that feels like an understatement most days. You wake up, check your phone, and the news is a literal dumpster fire of tragedies and economic stress. Then you pivot to your own life—the unpaid bills, the health scare, or that relationship that’s been hanging by a thread for months. In those moments, the phrase god is still good can feel like a platitude someone scribbled on a cheap coffee mug. It feels disconnected from the grit of reality.
But is it?
If you talk to people who have actually walked through the fire, they don’t usually talk about goodness as a sunny-day feeling. They talk about it as a lifeline. It’s not about ignoring the pain; it’s about a fundamental shift in perspective that says the pain isn’t the end of the story.
The Logic of Goodness When Everything Goes Wrong
We tend to tie goodness to our circumstances. If things are going well, we’re happy. If things fall apart, we assume something is fundamentally broken at a cosmic level. But theologians like C.S. Lewis or modern thinkers like Timothy Keller have spent decades arguing that the existence of suffering doesn't actually disprove a benevolent Creator. In fact, Lewis famously argued in The Problem of Pain that our very ability to recognize "evil" suggests we have an innate standard of "good" that had to come from somewhere.
Think about it.
If the universe was just cold, accidental chaos, we wouldn't be outraged by injustice. We’d just see it as "the way things are." Our deep, gut-level scream that "this isn't right" is actually a pointer toward a design that is right.
Does God change his mind?
Short answer: No. Most religious traditions, particularly the Judeo-Christian framework, hinge on the idea of immutability. That’s just a fancy word for "he doesn't change." If the character of god is still good today, it’s because it’s an essential attribute, not a mood. It’s not like a human who is nice until they haven't had their morning coffee.
What People Get Wrong About This Idea
There’s this toxic version of "positivity" that seeps into spiritual circles. You’ve probably seen it. Someone is grieving a massive loss, and another person pats them on the shoulder and says, "Well, God is good!" as if that’s supposed to make the tears stop instantly.
That’s not how this works.
- It's not a bypass for grief. You can be absolutely devastated and still hold onto the belief that there is a bigger, kinder hand at work.
- It’s not a promise of wealth. The "Prosperity Gospel" has done a real number on our collective psyche, making people think goodness equals a bigger bank account.
- It’s not a magic shield. Bad things happen to wonderful people. Every single day.
When we say god is still good, we aren't saying the situation is good. We’re saying the Presence within the situation hasn't abandoned us. It's a subtle but massive difference. Look at the historical context of the Psalms. Many were written by people literally hiding in caves or facing execution, yet they pivot from "I’m dying here" to "yet you are faithful." That’s the nuance. It’s the "yet."
Real-World Evidence of Goodness in the Shadows
It’s easy to be a cynic. I get it. But look at the stories of people like Corrie ten Boom, who survived a Nazi concentration camp. She didn’t come out of that experience saying God was cruel. She came out saying that "there is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still."
That’s a heavy-duty kind of goodness.
Psychologically, there is a concept called Post-Traumatic Growth. Researchers like Richard Tedeschi and Lawrence Calhoun have studied how people experience positive psychological change as a result of struggling with highly challenging life circumstances. While this is a secular psychological framework, many find that their spiritual anchor—the belief that god is still good—is the primary engine for that growth. It provides a "why" that makes the "how" bearable.
The Role of Community
You can't do this alone. Honestly, if you're trying to believe in anything good while isolated in a dark room, you're fighting an uphill battle. Goodness is often "fleshed out" through other people.
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- The neighbor who brings a meal without being asked.
- The friend who sits in silence with you when words are useless.
- The stranger who shows unexpected grace.
These aren't just random acts. For the believer, these are tangible extensions of a divine character. It’s how the abstract concept of a "good God" becomes a concrete reality you can actually feel.
Dealing With the "Silent" Phases
What happens when you pray and nothing happens? When you're looking for that "goodness" and all you get is a dial tone?
This is where most people bail. And honestly, it’s understandable. Silence feels like absence. But in every great narrative—from ancient myths to modern cinema—the silence of the mentor or the "hero's journey" midpoint is where the real character work happens.
In the Bible, Job is the classic example. He loses literally everything. His kids, his wealth, his health. He spends chapters yelling at the sky, demanding an explanation. He doesn't get a "why." Instead, he gets a "Who." He gets a reminder of the scale of the Creator. It’s a bit of a reality check that says, "Your perspective is small, but the design is huge."
How to Lean Into This Today
If you’re struggling to see it, stop looking for the big miracles. Start looking for the "micro-graces."
- Audit your intake. If you spend six hours a day scrolling through doom-and-gloom news and zero minutes looking at things that provide hope, your brain is going to be wired for despair. It’s basic biology.
- Practice "Lament." This is a lost art. It’s the process of complaining to God honestly. You don't have to be polite. If you think the situation sucks, say so. Real relationship requires honesty, not performance.
- Look for the "Refuge" moments. Take a walk. Look at the complexity of a leaf or the way the light hits the trees. Science tells us that nature reduces cortisol. Faith tells us that nature is a "general revelation" of a Creator who cares about detail.
- Recall the track record. Write down three times in your life where you thought you wouldn't make it, but you did. How did that happen? Who showed up? What "coincidences" occurred?
The belief that god is still good isn't a finish line you cross; it’s a muscle you flex. Some days it’s weak. Some days you’re "lifting heavy" and it feels impossible. But the core claim remains: the architect of the universe isn't a distant, cold observer.
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Actionable Steps for the Skeptic or the Hurting
If you’re at the end of your rope, don't try to force a feeling of "bliss." That’s fake. Instead, try these practical shifts to reconnect with the idea of a good God in a hard world.
First, reframe your "Why me?" into "What now?" Asking why things happen is a rabbit hole that usually leads to a dead end because we don't have access to the full blueprint. Asking "What now?" allows you to look for the small ways goodness can still manifest in your current mess.
Second, engage in "Active Waiting." This isn't just sitting around. It’s doing the next right thing—making the bed, paying the bill, calling the friend—while holding the door open for a breakthrough.
Lastly, find a community that allows for doubt. If you're in a group where you can't ask hard questions about God's goodness, find a new group. The strongest faith is one that has been tested by fire and come out with some scars.
The reality is that god is still good even when life is objectively bad. Recognizing this doesn't change the facts of your situation immediately, but it changes your ability to endure them. It gives you a foundation that doesn't shake when the storm hits.
Start small. Look for one thing today that isn't broken. A cup of coffee, a warm blanket, a text from a sibling. These are the crumbs that lead you back to the truth that you haven't been forgotten.