Where Does Evil Come From?

A question as old as humanity itself, and one that every mystery writer must eventually confront — both in their stories and in their faith.

As a writer of Christian mystery and suspense, I spend a lot of time thinking about evil. Not in the abstract, philosophical way you might discuss it in a seminary classroom (though I've done that too), but in the dirt-under-your-fingernails, look-it-in-the-eye way that a storyteller must.

When I create a villain for one of my novels, I have to understand what drives them. What broke inside them, or what was never whole to begin with? The best villains in fiction — and the most dangerous people in real life — aren't cartoon characters twirling mustaches. They're people who've convinced themselves that their evil is justified.

The Biblical Answer

Scripture doesn't shy away from this question. From the serpent in the garden to the cross at Calvary, the Bible tells us that evil entered the world through the free will God gave His creation. He loved us enough to give us the ability to choose — and we chose poorly.

But here's what I find most fascinating: God didn't abandon us to that choice. He entered into the mess with us. He walked among us. He suffered with us and for us.

What This Means for Storytelling

Every good mystery has at its heart a question about human nature. Why did the murderer kill? What drove the thief to steal? What desperation led someone to betray the people who trusted them most?

These aren't just plot questions. They're the deepest questions of the human heart. And I believe that's why mystery novels have endured for centuries — because they give us a safe space to explore the darkness while always pointing toward the light.

In my own novels, I try to create characters who are wrestling with these questions just like we all do. Nobody in my books is purely good or purely evil, because that's not how real people work. We're all a tangled mess of noble intentions and selfish desires, of faith and doubt, of love and fear.

And that, I think, is where the best stories live — right there in the tangle.