Why doesn’t God heal everyone?

One of the greatest mysteries we grapple with is why God heals some people, but not others. A friend and I were discussing this recently. As usual, my thoughts continued long after our conversation, so I decided to share them here.

A few years ago, our pastor announced in June that he had liver and pancreatic cancer. He was gone before the end of summer. He was in his prime, pastoring a church with a love for his people that I have rarely seen matched. Two of his daughters got married that summer, and he was able to walk them both down the aisle. But he would have been a terrific grandfather in the coming years. He seemed to have so many years of usefulness left, it was puzzling that God took him home.

Another former pastor’s grandson underwent an excruciating battle with leukemia, which he eventually lost despite hundreds of people’s prayers.

Others experience disabilities for the rest of their lives, either from birth or from an accident or illness.

We can never know all of God’s reasons for what He allows. But here are a few:

We live in a fallen world affected by sin, so there will be illnesses and death until God redeems the earth. Christians aren’t exempt from these effects of the fall.

None of us is guaranteed a long life. We need to be ready for eternity.

God’s perspective. A seemingly early death is not a tragedy to God: it’s a head start on heaven as He welcomes His loved one home.

God enables us to minister to others through what we suffer. Joni Eareckson Tada has been paralyzed since a diving accident fifty-seven years ago. I don’t know of anyone who has done more to help the disabled community, bring awareness of what disabled people suffer, and glorify God in the midst of suffering. Those things probably would not have happened without her accident. When she speaks, we listen, because we know she has proven what she’s speaking about. She’s not mouthing empty platitudes or theories.

God’s strength is displayed through our weakness. Paul famously prayed three times for God to remove an affliction from him. But God answered, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:7-10).

Healing was not Jesus’ primary purpose. Jesus healed multitudes of people during His time on earth. He demonstrated compassion and power as He did so. But He said His purpose was to preach the gospel (Mark 2:32-39).

God’s glory displayed. When the disciples asked whether a man’s sins or those of his parents caused his blindness, Jesus said, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him” John 9:1-7). Similarly, when Jesus received the news that Lazarus was sick, he said, “It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it” (John 11:1-4).

Jesus wasn’t grandstanding. He wanted to show people who He was so they could believe.

Since Jesus is glorified through healing, it’s even more puzzling that He would not heal everyone. But sometimes He is glorified more by displaying His grace through His people’s trials, as He did in Joni and Paul’s lives.

Suffering strengthens and develops us. The apostle Paul wrote, “We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.”

Trials keep us dependent upon the Lord. We always are dependent on God, but sometimes we forget. Sometimes we need His help in areas other people never think about, but that continual dependence is a good reminder that our strength comes from Him. Paul said his “thorn in the flesh” was given so that he might not become conceited over the revelations that had been given to him.

Suffering prepares us for glory. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” Paul is not being dismissive when he calls our afflictions “light.” He’s saying that they’ll seem light compared to the glory to come.

Though all of these factors help at times, they don’t satisfy at other times. I’ve been ministered to by what Amy Carmichael wrote in Rose From Brier (emphasis mine):

But, though, indeed, we know that pain nobly born strengthens the soul, knits hearts together, leads to unselfish sacrifice (and we could not spare from our lives the Christ of the Cross), yet, when the raw nerve in our own flesh is touched, we know, with a knowledge that penetrates to a place which these words cannot reach, that our question is not answered. It is only pushed farther back, for why should that be the way of strength, and why need hearts be knit together by such sharp knitting needles, and who would not willingly choose relief rather than the pity of the pitiful?

…What, then, is the answer? I do not know. I believe that it is one of the secret things of the Lord, which will not be opened to us till we see Him who endured the Cross, see the scars in His hands and feet and side, see Him, our Beloved, face to face. I believe that in that revelation of love, which is far past our understanding now, we shall “understand even as all along we have been understood.”

And till then? What does a child do whose mother or father allows something to be done which it cannot understand? There is only one way of peace. It is the child’s way. The loving child trusts.

I believe that we who know our God, and have proved Him good past telling, will find rest there. The faith of the child rests on the character it knows. So may ours, so shall ours. Our Father does not explain, nor does He assure us as we long to be assured… But we know our Father. We know His character. Somehow, somewhere, the wrong must be put right; how we do not know, only we know that, because He is what He is, anything else is inconceivable. For the word sent to the man whose soul was among lions and who was soon to be done to death, unsuccored, though the Lord of Daniel was so near, is fathomless: “And blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in me.”

There is only one place we can receive, not an answer to our questions, but peace — that place is Calvary. An hour at the foot of the Cross steadies the soul as nothing else can. “O Christ beloved, Thy Calvary stills all our questions.” Love that loves like that can be trusted about this.

Perhaps we wouldn’t be able to understand even if God did explain why He allows such severe pain and loss. But the more we know Him, the better we can trust Him. Like the psalmists, we can pour out our anguish to Him, then remind ourselves of His love and mercy and care for us.