There is a question that almost all believers ask themselves sooner or later. It rarely arises when everything is going well. Rather, it appears when injustice seems to prevail, when a family suffers a terrible misfortune, when illness disrupts a life, or when the news gives the impression that violence and suffering know no bounds.

If God is truly all-powerful, why does He allow evil to continue?

More specifically:  if Satan is a creature and God possesses infinitely greater power than his, why doesn’t He destroy him immediately?

A single divine word would seem to suffice. He who, according to the Bible, created the universe could instantly put an end to his adversary’s activity. Yet Satan continues to appear in Scripture as an accuser, tempter, and adversary. The original text accurately explains this paradox: the problem lies not in God’s inability to defeat Satan, but in the timing and purpose of divine judgment.

To understand this idea, we must go back long before human conflicts, before kingdoms, and even, according to the traditional Christian interpretation, to the mysterious origin of spiritual rebellion.

Before Satan, a glorious creature?

The Bible does not contain any chapter entitled “Complete Biography of Satan”.

This is an important point.

What Christian tradition teaches about its origin results from the connection of several biblical passages, in particular Ezekiel 28, Isaiah 14, Revelation 12 and certain texts of the New Testament.

Ezekiel 28 is addressed directly to the king of Tyre.

The prophet describes his pride and predicts his downfall. However, some of the expressions used are so extraordinary that early Christian interpreters also perceived a spiritual reality behind the human ruler.

The character is associated with Eden.

It is described in a language of perfection, beauty, and wisdom.

There is even talk of a guardian cherub.

Therefore, a long Christian tradition has considered that the text could function on two levels: denouncing the pride of the king of Tyre and, at the same time, reflecting, symbolically or spiritually, the fall of a celestial creature.

However, it is necessary to maintain this distinction: the passage speaks primarily of the king of Tyre. Applying it to Satan is a matter of historical theological interpretation, not an identification explicitly established in the text.

The same caution is required for Isaiah 14.

The passage refers to the king of Babylon, but contains the famous Hebrew expression  Helel ben Shachar  , which is often translated as “bright star, son of the dawn.”

In the Latin translation, the term  Lucifer  , “light-bearer” or “morning star,” gradually became associated in Christian tradition with the name of Satan before his fall.

And this image contains a fascinating paradox.

What the Christian imagination associates with darkness today was originally represented by the language of light.

But he was not the source of that light.

I was simply reflecting it.

That’s where the tragedy would begin.

When the reflection wants to become the source

According to this traditional interpretation, the fall begins with pride.

Not necessarily with a war.

Not with an explosion of violence.

But with something much calmer:

the desire to occupy a place that did not belong to him.

Ezekiel associates the elevation of the heart with beauty.

Isaiah 14 puts into the mouth of the proud sovereign a succession of pretensions: to ascend, to exalt himself, to place his throne above the stars and to become like the Most High.

Whatever the exact interpretation of these passages, their message about pride is striking.

A creature receives something magnificent.

Then, little by little, he forgets that what he possesses was given to him.

She reflects on her gifts.

She contemplates his power.

She admires her beauty.

And she begins to see the gift as an absolute possession.

The reflection wants to become light.

The servant wants to become the master.

And this logic is not just a story about Satan.

It bears a striking resemblance to a human temptation.

“Why should I depend on someone else?”

“Why shouldn’t I be at the center?”

“Why should I accept limitations?”

It is precisely this same movement that the Genesis narrative will show in the garden of Eden.

Why is he called Satan?

The word itself is revealing.

The Hebrew term  satan  essentially means adversary or accuser, depending on the context.

The Greek word diabolos  , the origin of the word “devil,” also appears in the New Testament, with the idea of ​​a slanderer.

The symbolic transformation is surprising.

The one who was traditionally associated with light becomes the one who accuses.

He who has beheld glory becomes one who opposes it.

And this function appears clearly in the book of Job.

Satan questions the sincerity of Job’s faithfulness.

In essence, his accusation is simple:

Does Job truly love God, or does he only love what God gives him?

This is a strategy that can be found in other parts of Scripture: sowing doubt about God’s motives and, subsequently, about his very character.

In the Garden of Eden, the serpent does not begin by directly saying:

“God is evil.”

Start with a question.

“God really said…?”

Doubt precedes the breakup.

A rebellion in the spiritual world

Chapter 12 of Revelation then describes a spectacular scene: a great red dragon, later identified as the devil and Satan, comes into conflict with Michael and his angels.

The dragon itself possesses angels.

A battle breaks out.

And finally, the dragon is quickly defeated.

The original text rightly points out that there are several Christian interpretations regarding the exact chronology of this vision. Some see it as a reflection of Satan’s original fall, others as a vision linked to Christ’s victory, or even to eschatological events.

Therefore, it would be unwise to present Revelation 12 as an indisputable chronology of what happened before Genesis 1.

But one element is clear in the vision:

Satan is never presented as equal to God.

Even when a heavenly battle is described, his immediate adversary is Michael.

This difference is fundamental.

Biblical Christianity does not teach the existence of two gods, one good and one evil, who possess the same power.

God is not the “light side” of a cosmic balance of which Satan would be the dark side.

Satan is a creature.

God is the Creator.

Satan has limits.

God is not.

Therefore, the question is never:  Will God succeed in defeating Satan?

The question is:

Why does God wait before definitively completing his work?

The mysterious role of humanity

Next, the biblical narrative introduces humankind.

In Genesis 1, humanity is created “in the image of God.”

This expression has given rise to profound theological reflection. It refers, in particular, to humanity’s vocation to represent God in creation and to exercise responsibility for the world entrusted to it.

The man receives a mission.

Then comes the snake.

And observe their strategy carefully.

He does not force Eve.

He speaks.

He suggests.

He transforms the limit given by God into suspicion.

Then comes the promise:

“You will be like God.”

The parallel with the pride described in Isaiah 14 is striking.

The fundamental temptation then is:

to obtain, independently of God, what one believes one deserves.

Humanity is falling.

And the conflict, which seemed to be of a spiritual nature, now becomes part of the history of humanity.

However, God does not immediately destroy the adversary.

So that ?

First answer: the sentence is postponed, not cancelled.

The first essential element is extremely simple:

The Bible does not say that Satan will escape judgment.

She claims the exact opposite.

Jude 6 speaks of angels who have left their positions and are being reserved for judgment.

2 Peter 2 uses similar language.

Then, Revelation 20 presents the devil’s ultimate fate.

Thus, from the point of view of the biblical narrative, the judgment is not forgotten.

It’s fixed.

The difference lies between  a sentence announced  and  a sentence fully executed  .

This is an important distinction.

When God does not act immediately, it does not necessarily mean that He will never act.

The absence of immediate intervention does not mean the absence of justice.

But why wait?

This is where the more difficult theological answers begin.

Does God allow evil to reveal its true nature?

The original text presents the image of a cosmic tribunal.

The idea is this: God would allow the rebellion to fully manifest its consequences so that his final judgment would be indisputable before creation.

This interpretation is theological; no verse formulates the entire argument exactly in this way.

But several biblical narratives do present God as the one who judges publicly and whose justice is ultimately recognized.

Evil takes time.

And what does he do with that time?

He reveals himself.

Jealousy turns into hatred.

Hate turns into violence.

Ambition becomes domination.

Lies breed more lies.

Rebellion promises freedom, but ultimately leads to slavery.

From this perspective, the history of humanity also becomes a tragic demonstration of what a creation produces when it seeks life by separating itself from its origin.

Evil, in a way, condemns itself through its own fruits.

But then, why does God allow so much suffering?

This is where any theological explanation must remain humble.

When someone has just lost a loved one, coldly explaining to them that their pain is part of a “cosmic demonstration” can be cruel.

The Bible itself does not treat suffering in this way.

Job cries out.

David asks:

“How long, Lord?”

Prophets protest against injustice.

Even Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb.

Therefore, biblical faith does not require us to pretend that suffering does not hurt.

Allow the lament.

It allows you to ask questions.

It even lets you ask why.

However, what she refuses to do is conclude that, because we do not immediately understand God’s silence, he has necessarily lost control.

Does free will explain everything?

The original text then raises another argument: that of freedom.

For love to be authentic, it must include a form of freedom.

A creature programmed to say “I love you” with no possibility of doing anything else does not love in the relational sense of the term.

She obeys.

From this perspective, God would have wanted a creation capable of freely responding to his love.

But true freedom comes with a real risk:

the possibility of rejection.

This freedom would have been used against God by rebellious beings and by humanity.

This helps to understand part of the problem of evil.

But caution is necessary:  ​​free will alone does not explain all forms of suffering  , including natural disasters, illnesses, or suffering that does not result directly from an identifiable moral choice.

The Bible itself presents the problem of evil as something broader.

Paul describes all of creation as suffering and awaiting its restoration.

Therefore, the Christian response is not to have a simple explanation for every tragedy.

It consists of stating that no tragedy is the final chapter.

Does Satan act freely without any limits?

The book of Job offers a surprising answer to this question.

Satan wants to test Job.

But it does not possess absolute freedom.

Limits are imposed on him.

It can go to a certain point.

No more than that.

Then, when the trial intensifies, a new limit is set: Job’s life must be preserved.

This scene encapsulates a fundamental truth in biblical theology:

The adversary never escapes the sovereignty of God.

This does not mean that God morally approves of everything Satan does.

This means that Satan is never sovereign.

He never becomes a second God.

He never controls history.

He doesn’t know everything.

It’s not everywhere.

He is not all-powerful.

Its influence is real, but limited.

When evil ends up serving a good it never intended.

The story of Joseph is one of the most powerful biblical examples of this paradox.

His brothers hate him.

They sell it.

Joseph becomes a slave.

He was later unjustly imprisoned.

For years, everything seemed to indicate that evil had triumphed.

But the situation is reversed.

Joseph rises to a position of authority in Egypt and becomes the instrument that saves many people from famine.

When he finally finds his brothers, he tells them, essentially:

You had planned to hurt me, but God transformed it into something good.

Notice what José doesn’t say.

He did not say:

“What you did was, ultimately, good.”

No.

His actions were incorrect.

But evil did not manage to control the final result.

This distinction is fundamental.

God’s sovereignty does not morally transform evil into good.

It means that  evil cannot prevent God from fulfilling his purpose  .

And for Christianity, no event illustrates this better than the cross.

Has Satan ever been defeated?

Herein lies the central paradox of the New Testament:

The final victory is yet to come, but the decisive victory has already been achieved.

Colossians 2 describes Christ’s triumph over the powers through the cross.

At first glance, it is incomprehensible.

Crucifixion is like a defeat.

Jesus is arrested.

Convicted.

Humiliated.

Kill.

His disciples fled.

Their opponents believe they have won.

But according to the Christian proclamation, it is precisely through this event that sin and death receive their decisive blow.

Then comes the resurrection.

The cross then becomes the biggest turning point in the history of Christianity:

Evil uses all its weapons and, unwittingly, contributes to the event that foreshadows its own defeat.

Theologians sometimes speak of “already and not yet”.

Satan has already been decisively defeated.

But its influence has not yet been completely eliminated.

The war is won.

The lingering effects of the conflict are still being felt.

What will be their final destination?

Revelation 20 is particularly severe.

Finally, the devil is thrown into the lake of fire.

In the majority traditional Christian interpretation, the passage describes eternal punishment.

The original text also acknowledges the existence of a minority Christian position called annihilationism, according to which the final judgment would result in the definitive destruction of the condemned beings, rather than their eternal conscious torment.

The debate exists.

But the various Christian interpretations agree on one essential point regarding Satan:

Their activity will not continue forever.

There is an end.

Evil is not immortal in the sense of a rival realm destined to coexist eternally with God.

The biblical vision culminates in a renewed creation, not in an endless war between two equal powers.

Why are we still in this waiting period?

Perhaps because the delay in the trial has another dimension that we often forget.

A dimension that does not only concern Satan.

Us.

In 2 Peter 3, those who question the apparent delay in the fulfillment of divine promises are answered.

Peter affirms that God is patient, that He does not want some to perish, but that people come to repentance.

This represents a radical change in perspective.

We asked:

“Why does God wait before judging?”

And the New Testament offers a partial answer:

because this time is also a time of grace.

Every additional day that passes without a final verdict is also a day in which someone can change.

Someone can forgive.

Someone can come back.

Someone might believe that.

He who was far from God yesterday, may return to Him tomorrow.

The patience that sometimes seems incomprehensible to us is perhaps precisely the patience that we ourselves need.

What should we do in the meantime?

The New Testament answer is not:

to be afraid of Satan.

Paul writes to the Ephesians that they must put on “the armor of God”.

The truth.

Justice.

The Gospel of Peace.

Fe.

Salvation.

The Word of God.

The language is military, but the message is primarily one of firmness.

Paul is not asking believers to become obsessed with demons.

He asks them to  stand firm  .

It’s very different.

Biblical Christianity does not present Satan as someone before whom the believer must live in constant terror.

Jacques writes:

“Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

So that ?

Because his power is not absolute.

Fear can attribute to him a greatness he does not possess.

What if God seems to remain silent in the face of your own suffering?

Finally, this is the most personal question.

Theology is relatively easy when it remains abstract.

Things get much more complicated when the question has a name.

One person.

A diagnosis.

A duel.

An injustice.

A night in which no answer arrives.

In times like these, the Bible doesn’t always give us the precise explanation we would like.

Job asks why.

Throughout much of his book, he does not receive the detailed answer he expects.

But he encounters God.

David asks:

“How long will this last?”

And yet, even in the midst of his lament, he continues to talk to God.

Perhaps this is what distinguishes doubt from surrender.

Asking God a question still means turning to him.

The Bible is full of believers who do not understand what is happening to them, but refuse to turn their lack of understanding into a definitive conclusion.

They are waiting.

They are crying.

They pray.

They continue.

Why, then, does God not destroy Satan today?

Now we can return to our initial question.

Is it because God can’t do it?

No.

Within the biblical framework, God’s power is never presented as insufficient in the face of Satan.

Is it because Satan would be eternally necessary?

In.

Their final verdict has been announced.

Is it because God is indifferent to evil?

The entire biblical narrative states exactly the opposite.

Why wait?

The original text brings together several theological answers: the judgment has a fixed time; evil must manifest its true nature; the freedom of creatures is real; Satan remains under divine sovereignty; Christ’s decisive victory has already been proclaimed; and the delay before the judgment also constitutes a time granted to humanity for repentance.

None of these answers solves the mystery.

They don’t make all suffering easy to accept.

But they transform the question.

We begin by asking:

“Why hasn’t God destroyed Satan yet?”

Now we discover another question:

“What do we do with the time we’ve been given before the trial?”

Because if the biblical account is true, Satan is not rushing to victory.

He is running towards a sentence that has already been announced.

Evil does not build an eternal kingdom.

It is nearing its end.

And God’s apparent silence is not necessarily an absence.

It may be a matter of patience.

It may be delayed.

It could be a blessing.

This may be the moment when history reveals what truly produces rebellion, and during which human beings can still choose their response.

Therefore, perhaps the deepest mystery is not, ultimately, why God still tolerates Satan.

Perhaps it is to understand why God continues to grant so much time to humanity.

Why hasn’t the door closed yet?

Why hasn’t the verdict been delivered yet?

Why is there still a possibility of returning?

And this is where the question about Satan suddenly becomes a question about each one of us.

If God keeps delaying the final chapter of history, what will we do with the chapter He leaves us today?

Because from the first book of the Bible to the last, one conviction remains:

Evil can hurt.

It can be seductive.

He can accuse.

It can cause periods in which God seems to be silent.

But he will not have the last word.