We speak easily of "good fortune". Someone lands a dream job, escapes an accident, wins a lottery ticket or meets the right person at just the right time, and we say they were "fortunate".
But what lies behind this everyday language? Is fortune merely chance, like a cosmic dice roll? Or is it fate, something written in the stars?
Or is it providence, a guiding hand behind events? Or is it reward: good things come to those who deserve them?
These four explanations — chance, fate, providence and reward — raise not only the question of how events unfold, but also the deeper question of meaning: what kind of story are we living in?
According to the logic of chance, life is full of contingencies: where you were born, the family you grew up in, and the genetic lottery that shaped your health and abilities. Science underscores this: evolution depends on random mutations and accidents.
Chance feels true to experience. We know talented people who never caught a break and mediocre ones who stumbled upward.
We know tragedies that seem cruelly arbitrary: the wrong place at the wrong time. If fortune is chance, the universe is indifferent. It does not play favourites — it just rolls dice.
But if everything is chance, then "good fortune" is only probability. For many, this is unsatisfying. Humans long for meaning; we want our lives to be more than an accident.
The logic of fate says that what happens was meant to be. The Greeks spoke of the Fates who spun life’s thread. Shakespeare’s plays often echo destiny.
Fate removes the burden of "what if". If something was meant to be, then there is no need for regret.
But fate has a darker side. If everything is predetermined, then freedom is an illusion. Justice becomes meaningless, since no-one can act otherwise than they do.
Fate risks fatalism: don’t bother striving, because what will be, will be.
Religious traditions interpret fortune as providence — purposeful guidance rather than blind fate.
The psalmist writes that our times are in God’s hands. In Islamic thought, nothing happens apart from the will of Allah.
Providence reassures people that behind life’s apparent randomness lies a deeper coherence. It can inspire gratitude and resilience. Providence allows life to be seen as meaningful even in suffering.
Yet providence also raises troubling questions: why would a good God allow injustice, cruelty or random tragedy? Does God play favourites, blessing some while others suffer?
Without care, providence can collapse into a cruel determinism that is indistinguishable from fate.
Another explanation is that fortune is deserved. Hard work pays off. Good choices bring good outcomes.
This is echoed in the concept of karma or in the biblical theme of sowing and reaping. Many self-help movements reflect this logic.
But it is a double-edged sword. If good fortune is deserved, then misfortune is also deserved.
Poverty, illness and disaster are cast as moral failures rather than social or natural realities. The phrase "everything happens for a reason" can sound hollow or even cruel to someone in grief. The Book of Job is one long protest against this neat calculus of reward.
So which is it — chance, fate, providence or reward?
In practice, most of us draw from all four stories. We speak of chance when someone wins the lottery, providence when we escape harm, fate when we meet a partner and reward when years of work lead to promotion.
This blending suggests reality is richer than any one category. The question of fortune is really the question of meaning.
From a theological angle, providence offers a fruitful path. It does not mean every detail is scripted, or that suffering is secretly good.
Rather, it means that life, however tangled, can be trusted to be held within a larger story of love and redemption. Chance is real, but not final.
Fate is not iron necessity, but mystery met with trust. Reward is not automatic law, but recognition that actions matter.
To believe that life has meaning, choices matter and reality is more than randomness is a deeply human hope.
Perhaps the most important question is not how to define fortune, but how to live with it. We cannot dictate when illness strikes or opportunity knocks.
What we can do is cultivate gratitude when good things come, solidarity when others suffer and humility when success tempts us to pride.
The ancients pictured Fortune as a wheel — always turning. The writer of Ecclesiastes observed that "time and chance happen to them all".
Strength and effort matter, but do not guarantee success.
To live well is not to control fortune, but to face it with humility, gratitude and compassion.
■ Graham Redding is the Douglas Goodfellow Lecturer in Chaplaincy Studies, Theology Programme, University of Otago.
