On Mondays, I answer questions frequently asked by those considering a return to the Catholic Church. How do I know this stuff? I was away for more than 30 years myself, and am the co-author of When They Come Home: Ways to Welcome Returning Catholics, a book for pastors and parish leaders interested in this ministry.
Why does God let bad things happen to good people?
This is one that many of us struggle with. If God loves us all that much, why doesn’t he protect us from the evil and pain of the world? Ah, but he does. Faith in him gets us through situations that would otherwise leave us hopeless.
“Where’s the God in that?” people sometimes ask. We face some heartbreaking challenges and grief in this world, but we or our 
brothers and sisters cause much of it. That’s the problem with free will. “Where was God at Auschwitz?” you’ll hear people ask. The answer? “God was there providing relief, succor, and comfort. Where was man?”
Some of our greatest sadnesses aren’t anything we control. People die in hurricanes, tsunamis, tornadoes, blizzards, earthquakes, and freak accidents that no one could have prevented. People suffer and die from illnesses that don’t stem from anything they did wrong. People are besieged by mental illnesses and experience and cause pain that they are powerless to prevent. Where’s the God in that? I can’t tell you. I can tell you that every single solitary one of these situations is a little easier to bear with God, even if you don’t have the patience of Job. You can yell at him. You can tell him you’re angry and you want your old life back. You can cry on his shoulder. You can ask him for healing or curing or relief. Sometimes, his answer will be readily apparent to all. Sometimes, it’ll only be apparent to you. Sometimes, it won’t be apparent to anyone, ever.
Life isn’t fair, and neither is God. We should all be grateful for the latter. But he is merciful. I once heard the testimony of an accomplished Christian author. She had overcome significant challenges, including cancer. And then, just as she was to be part of a study of people who had beaten that type of cancer, it came back. This time, she said, there was no hope.
She looked tired and worn out, and closed by saying something like this: “We always say God doesn’t give us what we can’t handle. Well, I’m telling you—I can’t handle this.” She said it softly but with confidence and determination. The room fell silent.
She died less than a year later.
