Yesterday, I was reflecting on a passage from Matthew’s Gospel—Matthew 6:25-34, where Jesus tells His disciples not to worry. He points to the birds of the air, reminding them that sparrows don’t stress about food because God provides for them. He speaks of the flowers in the fields, clothed in vibrant colors, even though they are here one day and gone the next. Then He says, do not worry about what you will eat, drink, or wear, because your Heavenly Father knows what you need.
I found this passage a real challenge to read. I am painfully aware that much of the world’s population lives in poverty. Starvation and dehydration are daily realities for many. So how is this passage still relevant?
I wrestled with how to reconcile what I was reading with what I see in the world. The question of suffering has troubled theologians and believers for centuries—I don’t claim to have an easy answer! But here’s where my wrestling has led me, in case it is of use to others.
My first thought was that, in theory, there is enough to go around. The problem is not scarcity but inequality—human greed hoards resources so that a global minority live in luxury while the majority struggle. But then comes the deeper question: If God provides, why doesn’t He intervene? Does He not care?
I know in my heart that God does care. So then—why suffering?
When God created humans, He gave us free will—the ability to make choices. God is not a dictator ruling with an iron fist but a loving Father who desires a real relationship with us. And because love cannot be forced, He does not impose Himself on us. We are free to believe or not, free to choose justice and mercy or greed and selfishness.
This can be hugely frustrating—especially when it seems like evil is rewarded. But at the heart of the Bible is a two-way relationship between God and humankind, and that relationship comes with responsibility. Every day, we are faced with choices. Followers of Jesus are called to be different—to speak out against injustice, to amplify the voices of the marginalized, to care for God’s creation. But let’s be honest: that feels like too big a job. And sometimes, it’s easier to look away.
Yet I believe it grieves God to see suffering in the world. Jesus’ words and actions show His deep compassion for people. And as we look ahead to Holy Week and Easter, we remember that Jesus came to earth to die—because God’s love for us was so great that He needed to mend the relationship broken all the way back in Genesis. Jesus restored that relationship, making a way for us to be with God for eternity.
This is the part where my brain fails me. That’s a truth too vast for me to fully grasp. And maybe that’s why I don’t have an easy answer to the suffering in the world. But I understand this much: Jesus died out of love for me (and for you!). And because of that, I want to do my part.
Yes, the task feels enormous. Challenging injustice, caring for creation, and looking out for the vulnerable is too much for one person to carry alone. But Jesus never asked us to do it alone. Even when He sent out His disciples, He sent them in pairs. Each pair had a few villages to visit—not the whole world! We, too, are called into community—with each other in the Church and with God. It’s from that place of togetherness that we can shoulder our part of the great mission.
We don’t have to do everything. We just have to do our part.
So this Lent, I want to let the suffering of the world change me. I want to seek out my part in God’s work. And I want the strength and courage to do it.
What about you?
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