It was an innocent question from a child who was quietly
listening, asked with deep sincerity after overhearing the weight of adult
conversation. We had been talking about the devastating flooding in Texas, the
heartbreak of a shooting during a 4th of July gathering, and the sudden car
accident that took the life of a friend. As the grief hung in the air, he
quietly asked: Does God have ears?
We all paused.
The question pierced deeper than any news report or social media post could. In a world flooded with tragedy, where is God? Does He hear? Does He care? And if so, why is there so much evil?
The Bible is clear: God is not a detached force, far removed from our pain. He hears, and He hears with the compassion of a loving Father.
“The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous and his ears
toward their cry.”
— Psalm 34:15, ESV
“O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice; in the morning I
prepare a sacrifice for you and watch.”
— Psalm 5:3, ESV
While God is spirit (John 4:24) and not bound by human form, Scripture uses human language—ears, eyes, hands—so we can grasp the nearness of His presence. His “ears” are not symbolic of distance but a declaration of intimacy. He hears the unspoken cries, the questions whispered in the night, and the tears that fall without words.
The Word of God itself is alive and powerful, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit:
“For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any
two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and
of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”
— Hebrews 4:12, ESV
God’s Word reveals Him fully to us—He knows our hearts and hears our deepest cries.
The question of evil isn’t new. It’s as old as Eden. The Bible tells us that God created everything good:
“And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was
very good.”
— Genesis 1:31, ESV
But when sin entered through Adam and Eve, so did death, suffering, and separation from God.
“Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man,
and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned.”
— Romans 5:12, ESV
From that moment, everything changed. Creation itself became tainted. It groans with the weight of sin:
“For we know that the whole creation has been groaning
together in the pains of childbirth until now.”
— Romans 8:22, ESV
Floods, violence, accidents—they are not just natural events or freak tragedies. They are reminders that we live in a fallen world, groaning for redemption.
But God’s desire is not that we remain unchanged by this brokenness. Instead, He calls us to be transformed:
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by
the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of
God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
— Romans 12:2, ESV
Recently, I painted our ship a deep black. I’d seen the white sail before—many times, in fact—but I had never noticed how striking it was until it was framed against the darkness of the hull. The contrast was so vivid, it demanded my attention.
Sometimes, that’s what evil does. It gets our attention. Not because God causes it all—but because He allows us to see light more clearly against the dark.
“When your judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of
the world learn righteousness.”
— Isaiah 26:9b, ESV
God doesn't waste pain. While He doesn’t always shield us from suffering, He uses it to stir our hearts, to awaken our souls, to call us back to what matters most. He allows us to feel the full weight of a broken world so we will long for the hope of restoration.
“For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises
every son whom he receives.”
— Hebrews 12:6, ESV
It’s not punishment—it’s invitation. The sound of pain can become the trumpet call to return to God.
In the midst of suffering, we have a great High Priest who understands our weaknesses perfectly:
“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to
sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted
as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne
of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”
— Hebrews 4:15–16, ESV
When evil and suffering threaten to overwhelm, God’s comfort is real and tangible. The apostle Paul reminds us that God
“comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able
to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we
ourselves are comforted by God.”
— 2 Corinthians 1:4, ESV
This is a comfort that passes understanding because it flows from the heart of God himself.
Our vision is limited. We see through the keyhole of time, but God sees the full narrative. We see snapshots of loss, but He sees the arc of redemption. He sees the eternal. We see what’s in front of us; He sees what’s ahead of us.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your
ways my ways, declares the Lord.”
— Isaiah 55:8, ESV
We ask “Why?” but God is always working on the deeper “Who.” Who will you turn to? Who will you trust? Who will redeem what feels lost?
In the moments when we don’t understand, we can rest in the character of the One who does. He is not absent. He is not silent. He is Emmanuel—God with us.
That question—“Does God have ears?”—still echoes in my heart. It’s a question of pain. But it’s also a question of hope. It’s a belief, hidden within the ache, that if God does hear… then maybe He will act.
And He has.
He came.
Jesus entered our pain, bore our sin, and suffered evil’s worst blow so we
could be made whole.
“Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows… He
was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities.”
— Isaiah 53:4–5, ESV
So yes, dear child—God has ears. He hears more than we can speak. He sees more than we can understand. And in the middle of a dark and broken world, He is still pointing us to the white sail—the hope of Christ—shining bright against the black canvas of a fallen creation.