Hope in Jesus in the Face of Evil
There are moments in history when it feels as though the world has crossed a threshold - moments when evil becomes visible in seemingly new ways, no longer distant or abstract, but close and personal. And recently, it seems every time we turn on the news, we are reminded just how broken the world really is: the wars in Ukraine and Gaza, with so many enduring unbearable loss; the senseless murder of Iryna Zarutska; the fatal shooting of Charlie Kirk - just a few examples of the unrelenting tide of violence and hatred we are witnessing.
What do we do when evil does not simply creep in, but marches across every line we thought would hold? At times like these, we need to remember: as followers of Jesus, our hope does not rise or fall with the news headlines. It rests on something unshakeable - in fact, on Someone unshakeable.
Christian faith does not call us to despair or to reactionary outrage - it calls us into hope. We cling to hope because our hope is grounded in Jesus Christ - His life, His teaching, His death, and His resurrection. Even when evil appears to be winning, the story of Jesus reminds us that evil never has the ultimate victory.
So how do we live out this hope when the darkness feels overwhelming? Here are some principles I’ve found helpful:
We must not be surprised by trouble. Jesus said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). This was no naïve remark. Jesus knew betrayal, violence and injustice were at the door - yet He still promised His victory.
We must mourn with the broken. Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, and He weeps with us still. Christians do not look away from suffering - we step towards it with compassion. We pray, we give, we care. It is not weakness to lament. To weep, to grieve, is part of holding faith and reality together - naming the pain without surrendering to despair.
We must remember God is present. God is not far off, watching from a distance. He steps into the darkest places. He is the One who carries sorrow, who enters grief, who suffers with the oppressed. We worship a God who is not unmoved by evil, but deeply moved and present.
We must refuse to let fear write the story. Fear is one of evil’s favourite weapons. It paralyses, divides, and breeds suspicion. Yet the Bible reminds us: “Perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18). When we choose love over fear - when we bless instead of curse, pray instead of hate - we resist the world’s current and reveal a different kingdom.
We must speak truth. In a time of misinformation, disinformation, and conspiracy, Christians are called to love truth. We seek what is accurate, challenge what is false, and refuse to spread what is unverified. Truth matters, because lies wound, divide, and fuel hatred.
We must stay anchored in eternity. This world is not the end of the story. The book of Revelation does not finish with chaos - it ends with Christ making all things new, justice being done, wounds being healed, and tears being wiped away. Faith does not deny the pain, but it reminds us evil will not have the final word.
We must practise small, stubborn acts of light. Evil can feel overwhelming - like trying to fight a wildfire with a cup of water. But Jesus said, “Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house” (Matthew 5:15). A single candle makes a difference in a pitch-black room - and even the smallest flame can make darkness retreat. Every prayer, every act of kindness, every word of truth pushes back darkness.
When evil seems to cross every threshold - when violence, hatred and lies dominate the headlines - it is tempting to give in to despair. But that is not the Christian story. The cross itself was the greatest injustice, the darkest moment - and yet from it came hope, life and restoration. The truth is this: Jesus has already crossed the greater threshold - through death into resurrection. And because He lives, our hope is never fragile, never wasted, never in vain.