I once heard someone ask an apologist, 'Why would a loving God let someone die of cancer?' They said, 'Either God isn’t loving enough to stop it, or He isn’t powerful enough to help.' In their view, it had to be one or the other.'"

The problem with that kind of question is that it starts from a really limited perspective—ours. When we wrestle with hard questions like this, we need to step back and try to see things from God's point of view, not just our own. And then we have to ask ourselves: whose perspective are we going to trust—His or ours?

I know this is a tough and sensitive topic. I’ve lost someone I loved deeply to cancer, and I understand the pain and heartbreak it brings. So I don’t say any of this lightly. But I do want to speak plainly—because only by being honest can we begin to see the bigger picture and understand the truth.

As humans, we naturally struggle with suffering and death. We’re afraid of pain, and we fear the unknown—so it’s completely understandable that we get upset when these things touch our lives. But our perspective on pain and death is often shaped more by emotion than by truth—especially when we don’t pause to consider how God sees it.

From our view, pain is something to avoid—it disrupts our comfort and sense of control. But from God's perspective, pain, while difficult, can be a tool for healing, growth, and drawing us closer to Him.

And death? To us, it feels like a thief—robbing us of life and dragging us into the unknown. But God has always made it clear: death is a certainty. The real question is what comes after. In God's economy, death isn’t an end—it’s a doorway. For some, it leads to judgment; for others, it leads home.

We were the ones who chose to walk away from God’s presence, stepping into a broken world where pain, cancer, and death exist. When we face something as devastating as cancer and God doesn’t step in to stop it, it’s not because He doesn’t love us or because He’s powerless. It’s because He’s trying to wake us up.

Our time on earth is short. Our bodies are fragile. They break down. They die. But even in that harsh reality, God is calling us to look beyond this life. He wants us to realize that death isn’t the end—it’s a door. And through that door, we face a choice: to finally come home to our Father, or to keep rejecting Him and remain in eternal darkness.

Remember Chernobyl—the catastrophic nuclear disaster that occurred on April 26, 1986, in Pripyat, Ukraine. Now imagine someone you love choosing to live there today, despite the lingering radiation. You beg them to come home. You warn them about the invisible danger—that staying there could give them cancer and eventually kill them. But no matter how much you plead, they refuse to leave. And you know that even if you dragged them out, their stubborn pride would lead them right back.

Now consider this: a far greater catastrophe occurred when Adam and Eve turned away from God and walked out of His kingdom. That was the true nuclear fallout—the moment sin entered the world. It was a contamination far worse than radiation. Sin is the deadliest cancer, one that leads not just to physical death, but to eternal separation from God.

Yes, God could heal us of physical cancer. But if we remain in this fallen, contaminated world—refusing to see that it's not our true home—we miss the point. God’s deepest desire isn’t just to make us well here. It’s to bring us home—to rescue us from a world poisoned by sin, and into the life He intended for us all along.