All Things for Good? 6 Things Romans 8:28 Doesn’t Mean

Romans 8:28 is perhaps the most powerful promise in all of Scripture: “And we know that for those who love God, all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”¹

But it’s also perhaps the verse most easily misapplied to hurting people. Despite good-intentions, it has been used to dismiss pain, rush the broken toward a “silver lining,” or suggest that if you’re still hurting, you must not be trusting God enough.² Depending on how we understand this verse, it can feel like either a lifeline or a slap in the face. The difference isn’t abstract or merely intellectual. It’s the difference between hope that sustains and a theology that crushes.

We need to grasp the truth of Romans 8:28 because we live in a cursed world marked by suffering. It is not a matter of if we will experience suffering—only when. And it’s important that we have our theology in place before we need it. You don’t want to wait to patch up your boat until you’re in the middle of a storm. So too, we need our theological convictions in place before the storms of life hit, especially as suffering often tempts us to doubt and despair.

But we also need to rightly understand this verse in order to rightly apply it to others. Bad theology produces bad counsel. In the hands of a well-intentioned but shallow, unskilled, or reductionistic counselor, this verse can aggravate wounds rather than heal them.³ We must always handle God’s word carefully, but especially in cases of deep suffering when the stakes are higher.

To rightfully clarify what Romans 8:28 does mean, we can consider six things it doesn’t mean.

Table of contents

1. It does not promise material prosperity
2. It does not mean that all things that happen are good
3. It does not automatically resolve our sorrow and hurt
4. It does not mean that only some things work for our good
5. It does not mean we will understand how things were for our good
6. It is not a promise that is given to everyone
Hope as a virtue

1. It does not promise material prosperity

First, this verse does not promise our material prosperity.

This verse says that “all things work together for good.” The question arises, What exactly is that good? We might fill in the gaps with our own ideas of what we consider “good”: health, wealth, material success, etc. When we import our own definitions of “good,” it becomes easy to assume God is promising to work all things for our material or earthly prosperity.

Yet just verses later in Romans 8:35–39, Paul mentions “tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, danger, sword … death” and demonic antagonism⁴ as anticipated features of the Christian life. This is hardly a description of physical well-being and material prosperity. These are among the “all things” that God promises to work for our good. Thus, Romans 8:28 is not promising the absence of or escape from such things. It promises our good despite such things.⁵

Rather, the “good” that God promises here is our salvation. Paul qualifies this “working” as being “for those who are called according to [God’s] purpose.” And that purpose is God’s saving purpose to make us like Christ, that we be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom 8:29).

In fact, far from saving us from distress and harm, this verse is promising that God will work all of these things for our good. God uses our afflictions to make us more like Christ (see Rom 5:3–4; Jas 1:2–4; 1 Pet 1:6–7).

Just as we are to share with Christ in glorification, so too, at present, we share with him in his sufferings (Rom 8:17; see also Phil 3:10; 2 Cor 1:5; 1 Pet 2:21; 4:13). As Christ’s path to glory was paved by suffering (Mark 8:31), so our path to glorification with Christ is to be marked by suffering (8:34).

2. It does not mean that all things that happen are good

Second, this verse does not mean that all things that happen are in themselves good.

We can subtly make this mistake, confusing the fact that God works all things for good with the idea that all things God works are in themselves good: “If God works all things for good, then all things that happen are good.”

But this is not what Paul says. Consider those things Paul lists in verses 35–39, the “all things” that God works for good: tribulation, persecution, famine, nakedness, violence, etc.⁶ These things are evil and tragic. The fact that God uses them for our good does not make those things good in themselves.⁷

We can subtly make this mistake, confusing the fact that God works all things for good with the idea that all things God works are in themselves good.

And this distinction matters immensely—especially for those who have suffered abuse or horrific loss. We ought not to call evil good (Isa 5:20–21), lest we give the impression that the abuse done to them or the calamity suffered was itself good.

This is why Scripture includes lament. The Psalter rings with cries of anguish. Its scripts show that we are right to name evil as evil, to grieve what is grievous.

In 1 Peter 1:6–7, Peter uses the illustration of gold purified in fire to describe the purification of our faith through trials. Gold is placed in fire to burn away any impurities. Although the result is our purification, the fire remains what it is: a destructive heat.

So Romans 8:28 does not mean that all things that happen to us are in themselves good. But what it does mean is that, no matter how horrific or evil, God still works these things for our good, for our ultimate conformity to Christ.⁸

Consider all that Joseph endured: sold into slavery by his brothers, falsely accused of sexual assault, wrongfully imprisoned. Yet, although his brothers intended evil against him, he proclaims that God intended it for good—to save people from famine (Gen 50:20).⁹

Logos’s Study Assistant retrieving relevant resources and providing a synopsis answer to, “What does Romans 8:28 mean?”

3. It does not automatically resolve our sorrow and hurt

Third, this promise does not automatically resolve our sorrow and hurt.

Of course, its assurance provides immense relief and hope in our suffering—and we shouldn’t downplay this! Yet, notwithstanding this promise, our anguish doesn’t necessarily disappear.

And it’s fine if it doesn’t. If we’re still hurting, it doesn’t mean that we’ve failed to believe God’s promises. Continued pain is not a referendum on the strength of your faith.

This passage can unfortunately be misused to condemn those who are hurting and in pain. We apply this verse to those in suffering, and when they don’t immediately cheer up, we interpret their ongoing anguish as a failure to trust God’s promise. This adds condemnation and guilt on top of what they’re already suffering.

But consider again the lament psalms. The psalmists express their anguish and bring their complaints to God. Rather than an absence of faith, these complaints are an expression of faith and hope. The psalmists bring their pain to God precisely because they believe he’s sovereign over it, able and willing to do something about their situation. Their lament is faith crying out, not faith giving up.

Or consider 1 Thessalonians 4:13–14, where Paul says believers are unique in that we mourn with hope. We don’t mourn like others do. We have the hope of resurrection. Yet notice: We still mourn. Apparently, mourning is not an absence of hope. Hope doesn’t eliminate our mourning.

Nor does this promise mean that—in this life—we won’t forever carry the scars from what we’ve endured,¹⁰ as if this promise simply undoes what’s happened to us. God’s grace was sufficient for Paul (2 Cor 12:9), but he forever carried his thorn in the flesh (2 Cor 12:7).

But it does mean we have a hope greater than our present pain. As Romans 8:18 says, our present suffering isn’t even worth comparing to this future glory, this “good” that is ours (see also 2 Cor 4:17). Notice: This doesn’t deny our suffering. It’s real. It’s hard. But as the moon eclipses the sun, so our future glory eclipses our present suffering. As Frederick Buechner says, “Resurrection means the worst thing is never the last thing.”¹¹

4. It does not mean that only some things work for our good

Fourth, Paul says that “all things work together for [our] good” (emphasis added), not merely some things.¹²

Scripture testifies to God’s “meticulous providence” (e.g., Ps 139:16; Prov 16:33; Lam 3:37–38; Matt 10:29). Ephesians 1:11 says God “works all things”—not just some things—“according to the counsel of his will.” R. C. Sproul has famously described God’s absolute sovereignty by saying there’s not “a single maverick molecule” that operates outside his control and determination.¹³ All things: not only the macro level but also the micro level.

Some find comfort in the idea that God doesn’t control everything. “He’d stop it if he could,” they say. This allows them to distance God from their pain and from evil. But arguably more comfort is found in the fact that no suffering, abuse, or tragedy we experience roams free, off the leash of God’s control and intent to work it for our good.

No suffering, abuse, or tragedy we experience roams free, off the leash of God’s control and intent to work it for our good.

What’s more comforting: That our suffering exists as an accident outside of God’s purposes, or knowing that “all things”—especially our suffering—has been destined to serve God’s good ends?

In other words, God’s absolute sovereignty, even over our suffering, means that none of it is meaningless. God will not waste an ounce of our suffering. We can take confidence, knowing that whatever we’ve suffered, we did not suffer for naught. All of it—no matter how horrific, no matter how senseless it seems—God will bend in the direction of our good.¹⁴

Even our own sin and mistakes cannot derail God’s purposes for us.¹⁵ Of course, sin is always destructive, and we often live with its painful consequences. But God is so sovereign that he weaves even our failures into our ultimate good. We cannot ruin what God intends to accomplish in us (Phil 1:6).

5. It does not mean we will understand how things were for our good

Fifth, that God “works all things together for good” is not a promise that we will understand how all things we’ve experienced were for our good. It does not mean that we will always be able to look back and discern how God used some particular thing.

We often say that “hindsight is 20/20,” but for many of us, life’s rearview mirror is still clouded by tears and unanswered questions. If you’ve ever looked at the back side of an embroidery, all you see is a chaotic mess of threads: knots, loose ends, and colors. You can’t make sense of it. Yet from the front, the picture is clear. We are like those looking at the back side of an embroidery. We are promised that God is working all things for our good. But we aren’t promised an explanation or insight into God’s own perspective. Often, we can only see the tangled threads.

Consider Job, who at the end of the book, doesn’t get an actual answer for all his suffering. He is not given a “why” for what he went through. Instead he is pointed to the “who” who stands behind it: God and his unparalleled wisdom. The book ends not with explanations but with Job’s worship of a God whose understanding isn’t just greater than ours, it’s not even in the same category as ours.

So the promise that God works all things together for our good doesn’t come with a guarantee that we’ll understand how everything we’ve endured is for our good. But there’s good news in this: This promise doesn’t depend on our ability to grasp it. Our hope does not depend on having complete understanding. We can hope even when we don’t understand.

In fact, if we believe that all things work together to conform us to Christ, then that “all things” includes even our ignorance. Our lack of understanding may provide the very conditions for us to grow in faith, a deeper reliance on God.

In light of Romans 8:28, we might expect people to be able to talk very clearly about how God used their suffering for their good, giving specific testimony to what God did through it. But many may not have that clarity. They may never have it, and that’s fine. Their inability to explain doesn’t indicate a failure to trust. Sometimes faith looks less like confident explanations and more like clinging to God’s promise even when we don’t understand.

6. It is not a promise that is given to everyone

Finally, Romans 8:28 is not a blanket promise that is given to everyone.

Observe the qualifiers in verse 28: “For those who love God … for those who are called according to his purpose.” This promise is for those who love God because they themselves have experienced his saving love and responded with faith.¹⁶ 

This promise is specifically for those who are united to Christ by faith, who are, as Paul says, being conformed into his image. Christ became a human being, died for our wrongdoings, and rose to life so that we could be made like him and participate in what he accomplished. This is the “good” that God has predestined for his people—to be united to Christ, sharing in his death to our sin and resurrection to new life.¹⁷

But like a doctor’s prescription, the medicine is for those whose name is on the bottle. So consider, is this promise yours? And if not, what hope do you have in this life wrecked by evil, suffering, and tragedy? What anchor holds when the storm hits?

God is working in Christ to make all things new—this cursed world, but also you, if only you would put your trust in him. The promise of Romans 8:28 becomes ours through faith in Christ.

Hope as a virtue

As many commentators have pointed out, Romans 5–8 are bookended by the theme of hope. Paul mentions it at the beginning of chapter 5 (vv. 2, 4–5) and returns to it in chapter 8 (vv. 20, 24). Everything in between—including the promise of Romans 8:28—aims to give us hope.

Sometimes we think of hope as simply a condition we find ourselves in if our circumstances happen to be favorable. We are hopeful if things seem hopeful. Hope is something passive. We’re recipients of it, merely responding to our external conditions.

Yet according to Scripture, hope is a virtue. In 1 Corinthians 13:13 it stands alongside faith and love as things we’re called to do.¹⁸ Just as we are called to believe and to love, we are called to hope. It is something we must exercise. And if hope is a virtue, its alternative vice, its sin of omission, is cynicism or despair—a refusal to hope.

Hope is not something we just happen to experience if we’re lucky enough. No, we must fight for it and strive to cultivate it.

And here’s what sustains that hope: That no matter what is taken from us, God himself cannot be. Look at how Paul concludes this section. In Romans 8:35–39, nothing can separate us from God and his saving love for us.

Not a cancer diagnosis.

Not a painful divorce.

Not the death of a loved one.

Not a wayward child.

Not betrayal from friends.

Not horrific abuse.

Not the destruction of your good reputation.

Nothing.

No matter what you’ve suffered or may suffer—no matter the loss—you can never lose God’s saving love. And if you have that, you have everything.

Resources for further reflection

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