Thor, theodicy, and the presence of God

I’ve never been a big fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Even during the early years of the franchise, I mostly tagged along with my wife whenever she wanted to see the newest release in theaters. I didn’t follow the intricate timelines, world-building, or character lore, but one thing I did appreciate—especially in the earlier films—was a good character arc.

One of the more recent MCU films, Thor: Love and Thunder, received mixed reviews. I didn’t love it either. But amid the over-the-top humor and scattered pacing, one subplot stirred my imagination in an unexpected way.

A movie about gods—and what we really want from them

Thor: Love and Thunder follows the god of thunder on a post-Endgame journey of self-discovery, which is interrupted by Gorr the god butcher—a grieving father turned villain who seeks to destroy all gods after his pleas for mercy are ignored. Armed with the Necrosword, Gorr is on a holy war to annihilate the indifferent divine.

Thor joins forces with Valkyrie, Korg, and his former flame, Dr. Jane Foster—now wielding Mjolnir as the Mighty Thor—even as she battles terminal cancer. Together, they confront Gorr and the greater crisis he represents: what do we do when God is silent?

Two scenes in particular stood out to me:

• At the beginning, Gorr’s daughter lies dying. He begs the gods for help, only to find them aloof, arrogant, and unbothered. His grief curdles into rage, and his desire for vengeance begins.

• At the end, Gorr finally reaches Eternity, where he can make a wish to destroy all gods. But instead of fighting, Thor does something surprising. He chooses not to plead or battle, but to spend what he believes to be his final moments with the dying Jane.

“I’m not going to spend my last moments fighting,” Thor says. “I’m going to spend them with her.”

Turning to Gorr, he offers an alternative to vengeance:

“You don’t have to choose revenge. You can choose love.”

In the end, Gorr doesn’t get an explanation for why the gods failed him. But he receives something more powerful: the chance to love again. He asks Eternity to bring back his daughter, not to destroy the gods. And he entrusts her to Thor.

A story about theodicy

At first glance, this may seem like just another superhero story with a heartfelt twist. But to me, it’s a story about theodicy—the age-old question of why bad things happen to good people, and where God is in the midst of suffering.

This is a question as old as Scripture itself, and it is perhaps most poignantly embodied in the story of Job. After losing everything, Job cries out to God in anguish. His friends try to explain away his suffering with theology and logic, but in the end, Job receives no explanation—only the presence of God. And that, remarkably, is enough.

Gorr’s story echoes this same deeply human experience: crying out to God in grief and being met with silence. And Thor, a god himself, gives us a different picture of what divinity might mean—not omnipotent intervention, but faithful presence. Not answers, but love.

This message reminded me of a conversation my co-host, Martha Tatarnic, had with Rev. Kyle Norman on our podcast Future Christian. Kyle shared about his own experience of suffering and faith deconstruction when his wife, Alicia, was diagnosed with cancer. Like Gorr, Kyle asked the question we all ask in tragedy: Why is this happening?

But, as he reflected on that question, something shifted:

“I asked, Why is this happening? And it dawned on me—if someone could actually say, ‘Kyle, Alicia got cancer because of this reason,’ would that make it less painful? No. It wouldn’t help me at all…

There’s a beauty in the fact that we don’t get an answer. Because when we try to give one—like Job’s friends—we’re almost always wrong. God doesn’t meet us with a rationale. God meets us with presence. With love. With grace.”

Kyle continued:

“God didn’t give me answers. God didn’t give me a roadmap. But God was with me.”

“Job never got an answer, right? God shows up and basically says, ‘I’m God, and you’re not.’ And for Job, that’s enough. Job is comforted by God’s presence—not by an explanation.”

“Sometimes in ministry we feel the pressure to say something helpful, but often what people need is simply someone to sit with them—to be present. That’s where God shows up.”

Presence over answers

I keep returning to Kyle’s insight: Even if I had the answer, it wouldn’t make it less painful.

And I wonder: if someone had explained to Gorr why the gods ignored him and let his daughter die—would that explanation have soothed his grief? Would it have healed the wound? I doubt it.

Because in our moments of deepest sorrow, it’s not answers we seek—it’s presence. What we long for most is to know we are not alone in our heartbreak. And that, I believe, is what God offers.

The answer to theodicy isn’t found in logic or theology alone—it’s found in presence, love, and grace. Not in a cosmic justification of pain, but in a God who sits with us, weeps with us, and offers us the very thing Thor offered Gorr:

Love over revenge. Presence over power. Relationship over resolution.

In a world still full of pain, loss, and unanswered questions, may we be people who don’t rush to explain but choose instead to stay present. To sit in the silence. To love without needing reasons. And to trust that God is there—still, quiet, and enough.