Half the time is seems that things simply function just the way one would expect if God was in heaven playing darts. Our lives are filled with so many things that go from bad to worse. The hardest part about it for me is that the things we request are very often good things. On our best days, we seek God’s renovation. We long for it. We lay down at night and dream about it. Our eyes sting due to tearful begging for it. Who could argue that someone praying for a better marriage, obedient children, a quenched addiction, a calm spirit, an obedient heart, or a bill responsibly paid are outside of God’s will? Who could argue that praying for the ability to gird up our will and make serious changes in overcoming sin in our lives is wrong? I know that there are “those” stories out there. You know, the one’s where a person becomes a Christian, then all of the sudden everything has changed (for good!). I have a love-hate relationship with those stories. I love them as I love an epic movie where the hero has saved the world. I love to know it is out there. But those are just stories. I have very few (if any) of those stories. Most of mine involve a seemingly never-ending pattern: stumble, fall, dirt in mouth, think about staying down, renewing hope, getting back up, trying again, stumble, fall, dirt in mouth . . . ad infinitum. In fact, I am still in many of these stories. 

At this point a mob forms in my subconscious rallying to find a way to express my anger and frustration with God. Yet no form of this finds a definite incarnation either in my words or deeds. “Why do you put up with this guy?” the mob yells. “Yeah, let’s take him to court. We can win!” Win what? A settlement with God? What would that look like anyway? I don’t have any grounds. There were no guarantees that he has failed to accomplish. The hope that I grope for was never here.

And those things we do get can taint reality in every way.

Entitlement. That is the word. Entitlement. I am entitled to have a good marriage. I am entitled to have financial stability. I am entitled to have health. I am entitled to be able to get a good night’s sleep. I am entitled to a sound mind. I am entitled to have children. I am entitled to a new television. I am entitled to be employed. I am entitled to never have an overdraft fee. I am entitled to have a family that follows the Lord. I am entitled to have a little more and the next cool thing out there.

Entitlement. Where did we get this? It certainly was not from Jeremiah. I love the way (relatively speaking) that he speaks of being on the run from the Lord. 

Lam. 3:10-14
He [God] is to me like a bear lying in wait, like a lion in secret places. He has turned aside my ways and torn me to pieces; He has made me desolate. He bent His bow and set me as a target for the arrow. He made the arrows of His quiver to enter into my inward parts.

I think that Jeremiah just felt entitled to being safe from his Saviour. His Shepherd was now, from his often entertained perspective, a predator seeking the carnage of his soul. In “secret places” God hides, ready to make his next strike. Not only was God failing to show up and rescue him from the harm of those outside, but he was, to Jeremiah, the one bringing about the harm. I wonder if these thoughts represent the mob of Jeremiah’s subconscious. His mind eventually turn back to reason (Lam. 3:21-23). But I am glad he had a parchment and pen handy to write these down. I am grateful for his transparency here. Jeremiah was the first great blogger. (How would you like to see the comments on his blog? I fear to go there.)

When I am at a loss, it rarely comes from the “big” things. Normally, it is the little nagging things that seem so meaningless. You know, the things that it would be easy for God to take care of. Maybe it is not the dinner bill that he fails to provide for, but the gratuities that we have to cover which eventually break us. I get tired. Then I read this:

Jer. 12:5
If you have run with footmen and they have tired you out, Then how can you compete with horses?

I have often said to the Lord: “But Lord, the footmen are wearying me. Footmen! I can’t even keep up with them. I can’t compete with horses. I can’t. Ever. I am sorry.”

Back to Lamentations: Is it okay to say that God is a bear lying in wait? Is it okay to think that? Is it okay to think that God is not going to show up? At least in the way we think? I don’t know, but rarely do we humans pull off the okay.

Then there are those who encourage us. We need to be encouraged, so we listen. “Things will change,” they tell us. “You just have to believe that God will pull off a miracle.” I have mustered up “belief” before, but it was empty, vain, and totally destructive to my spiritual well-being. The damage done by mustering up hope in promises that God has never made stay with many people until death. Disappointment with God for not fulfilling commitments he never made. How much spiritual depression can be summed up in that?

Sometimes we need to take a cold hard look at Jeremiah, the weeping prophet, and see that life is hard and it will be until the end. Not always. But often. But our ultimate hope and God’s faithfulness are very specific, being positioned to take the world at the final stand. Our duty is not to mêlée for God to show up in places he is not supposed to or to do things that are outside of his program, but to wait with eagerness and expectation for the kingdom which is to come. The carnage that we see in us and around us, like it was with Jeremiah, are allowed for now. But not then. Then God will show up and we will have no doubt that it is him. That is what we are entitled to. Keep the faith with me until then?

Lam 3:21-2421
This I recall to my mind, Therefore I have hope. The LORD’S lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I have hope in Him.
 

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While working behind the bar of the Credo House the other day (yes, I do make coffees!), a man came to talk to me about something that had been weighing on his heart. “Michael,” he said, “how do you know what God is trying to accomplish through the suffering that we go through? What is his end, purpose or goal.” Now, of course, this is a question that is on the lips of all of us more than we would like. “What is God trying to do?” “What is the purpose for this cancer?” “Why is God allowing me to have this back problem?” “Why does God allow my husband to treat me like this?” “What is God trying to produce?”

In such situations, we normally look ahead into the future in attempts to discern the telos of our pain. We want to know why. We want to see some cosmic earth shaking importance. People who encourage us in our pain will often say things like this: “God is allowing you to go through this so that you will be prepared for x, y, or z.” The x, y, and z always equates to “something great”. “God is going to do great things with you” is the essence of what they will say. Why? Not only because they believe it, but because it seems to medicate our suffering. It puts the focus on the eventual product that will soon lead to God’s glory.

However, I am not sure if God’s purposes are quite so lofty. Let me put that another way: I am not so sure that our idea of lofty ends, goals, and purposes are God’s idea.

I told the gentleman that God may certainly be shaping him for some future event. But he may not be. In other words, we don’t have to think in “cosmic” proportions to find meaning to our suffering and pain. Sometimes belief is the end goal. No, not future belief. But belief right now. Belief while in pain. Belief while suffering. Belief while confused. Belief while tragedy is in our living room.

I think we fail to realize how “cosmic” belief really is. We fail to realize how much glory God receives from simply believing him through our pain. We fail to see that an enduring quiet belief is often greater than any of the lofty things we imagine are still yet future. God is looking for those who trust and believe him no matter the suffering, no matter the pain, no matter what difficulties arise precisely because when we continue to persevere in our belief through such trying times he is glorified greater than we can possibly imagine. Belief is the end.

Of course this does not mean that he is not making us into something different. This does not mean that he is not preparing us for some future event, encounter, or ministry. However, these things need to take a back seat in our thinking to the glory of belief right now. God loves to be believed. So if you are suffering greatly and looking for hope in a product that God is trying to produce in the future, turn your eyes to the present and see what a rare and cosmic thing believing in God right now truly is. Sure, there are no fans. Maybe no sermons produced. Maybe no evangelistic crusades realized. And possibly no lives changed other than your own. But that is the God we serve. For the most part, our lives and faith will be defined by the quiet cosmic endurance of our belief. In doing so, we may alleviate ourselves of the crippling “why” question by always having an immediate answer: so that we can have the opportunity to believe in a time when belief is hard to come by.

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I am getting ahead of myself.

The fear of future events often scares me. In my mind, that which may come upon me is often too much to handle. How would I respond if such-and-such a situation were to occur? How would I respond if that happened to me? I remember the Terri Schiavo incident which, in 2005, held the country’s interest so intensely. For many of us, not only did it create a sense of sorrow, but also of personal struggle, as we wondered how long we could live in such a horrific situation. I remember specifically thinking about how terrible it was. I seriously could not think of a worse situation. The referred suffering of others (in this case, her parents’ suffering) is often too much to bear. You know, the suffering we experience as we look at another’s situation. The loss of a child. Chronic pain. A fearful situation. All of these qualify. With Terry Schiavo, if the pain I felt was so severe, how much more so her parents, who had to live with her condition for years? I thought the only thing that could be worse was if she was aware of her condition, fighting to free herself.

In truth, there are millions of things others go through, which I would think too hard for me to handle. From people banding together to take down a terrorist-controlled airplane, to being without a job for months or years, the prospect of such challenges is hard to fathom. As well, with world news and the internet, we are (over)exposed to so many experiences. These drain us of our energy, spiritual and mental. They cause us to cry out to God wondering where the world is going. It seems like every day for the last ten years I have heard at least one person say, “What is this world coming to?”

However, there are two things I try to keep in mind when soaking in the world’s trouble, pain, and suffering: 1) The world is not worse or more evil than it was before. There are not more troubles today than there ever were before. We are just saturated with more knowledge of these troubles, because of how quickly-disseminated and plentiful information is today. 2) It is not as bad as it seems. Seeing as how I have already written on number 1, let me talk about 2 for a moment.

I don’t mean to undermine the severity of people’s difficult situations (including my own), but I am realizing more and more that the prospect of suffering or troubling situations is quite deceptive. As I said, I could not imagine how my faith would hold up to a situation like that of Terry Schiavo. However, a similar situation occurred in 2006 with my mother. Even worse, she is aware of her situation. Her aneurysm and stroke have left her paralyzed in body and mind, but not enough to make her oblivious. Here I am five years later, living through my nightmare, yet able to bear it. The Lord often gives us the strength we need only when we need it, not at the mere prospect of needing it.

Okay, back to my story…

I had been counseling a couple in a troubled marriage. Don’t get me wrong; I am not too good at counseling couples’ marriages. However, I did marry these two and, as is often the case with those I marry, they called on me as their marriage turned sour. Unfortunately, their marriage did not make it. We tried, but reconciliation was not achieved. The gentleman involved was heartbroken, discouraged, and extremely depressed. Living in his new home (with one bed and one couch), he called a friend of mine, who then called me. “Michael, you need to get over to Billy’s [not his real name] house.” “Why?” I responded. “He is not doing well,” he said. “What happened?” I asked. “He is at his house crying - wailing. . . and Michael, he has a gun. He says he is going to kill himself.”

Please don’t judge me. I have heard it all since that day. “You should have called the police!” “You should have thought about your family.” “You should not have gone over there.” But, as scared as I was, I decided, after a brief call to the guy, to go to his house and see if I could at least disarm him.

Now, to connect this to the subject of my post, many things went through my mind. One other time I have had to disarm someone who was threatening suicide. The feelings of fear and dread were plenty. “I may very well die.” “People who are like this (emotionally unstable with a gun) are not to be messed with.” I was as scared as I had ever been. The prospects of dying at the hands of someone out of control were beyond difficult to face. But at the time, I thought I might be the only one who could take the gun from him.

I pulled up to his house and timidly walked in the door. There he was, pacing back and forth, banging his head on the wall (literally). My first thought was that he was on some serious drugs. My second thought was my main goal: get the gun. I began to talk to him. Erratic is the best way to describe what he was saying and doing. Due to his mental state at this time, conversation was not really productive. He would leave the room and then come back. Sit and then stand. Talk and then scream. After about ten minutes, he went into the kitchen. I heard some crashing, screams, and banging, then he slowly walked back into the living room holding the gun. It was a nine millimeter. I could not tell if it was loaded, but he was carrying it with his hand on the trigger. Then he started playing with the chamber in front of me. Finally, I said, “Give me the gun,” in as calm and unalarmed a voice as I could muster. He did not respond; he just kept messing with it. “Give me the gun!” I repeated. Again and again I requested he hand it over to me. I was sitting on the couch; he was standing right in front of me. Finally, something began to turn…in a good way, I thought. He released the clip (the part that holds all the bullets). It fell to the ground. He picked it up and gave it to me. I was very relieved. I quickly put it out of reach and asked for the gun again. He then cleared the chamber, releasing the final bullet. It fell to the ground at his feet. I thought about quickly picking it up, but he was too fast. He then picked it up, put it back in the chamber, and BAMMM!

My ears were instantly ringing. However, to my surprise, I was still calm. I took the gun away from him and examined the bullet hole deep in the floor right by my feet. I think he was as surprised as I was that he had just fired the gun. He looked at me and said, “I am sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” And he ran into his room. I sat there for a moment and thought about what to do next. I got the gun. Should I leave?  I thought to myself. Quickly, however, I found him and continued the conversation, attempting to help him trust in the Lord. Today he is much stronger and is moving on with his life, There have been no more incidents.

As I have thought about this event over the last few months, I have found one thing that stands out more than any other with regard to my own expectations (and let me speak selfishly about myself here): I was not scared. When it came down to it, and the gun was being waved around, I had confidence. Don’t get me wrong; I believe the Lord was ultimately responsible for my ability to stay composed in this dangerous situation, but I did not feel his presence. I did not see an angel behind the guy. I did not have any “spiritual sixth sense” at all. It was intuition. The bullet struck eighteen inches from my feet and I stood up and quickly grabbed the gun. But I was not scared. Startled? Yes. Terrified as I was when I imagined, during the drive over, what could happen? No.

To this day, I don’t know if what I did was the best thing for me and my family, but it did reiterate to me a valuable lesson: the prospect of the thing feared is almost always much worse than the thing itself. Again, I think of all the things people, Christian or not, go through every day. I think about how difficult life can be. I begin to fall apart inside due to what others have to suffer. However, I am realizing more and more the resilience people have to go through hard things and actually make it. I believe we are to suffer with people’s pains and trials, be there for them, and do whatever we can to help bear their burdens. But when concern for another turns into despair about life, this is when we have failed to trust in the One who has all things in his hands, who causes the rain to fall (in a good sense) on the righteous and unrighteous alike. He has created people with the ability to make it. While the situation with my mother seemed unbearable, I am bearing it. While the fear of having a gun waved in my face was severe, when the time came, right or wrong, I was composed. It is only when we are controlled by the prospect of something that we are defeated.Similar Posts:

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We must be careful not to relegate this problem exclusively to the intellectual realm. I think J.P. Moreland and William Lane Craig have it right when they say we must distinguish between the intellectual problem of evil and the emotional problem of evil (Philosophical Foundations for a Christian Worldview, 536). The intellectual problem of evil asks, “Is it possible for a good, all-powerful God to exist in a world where evil is present?” The emotional problem of evil asks, “Why would God allow such a thing as _______?” See the difference? One question is concerned with the objective coherence of God and evil, the other is concerned with the subjective coherence of God and evil.

While I think the primary issue today is more with the emotional problem of evil, I do believe that the intellectual problem is one that must be faced before the subjective problem can be addressed with integrity. Therefore, I believe that while the two can be distinguished, they should not be separated.

The foundation for both comes from this syllogism:

1. If God is all-powerful (omnipotent) and
2. If God is all-good (omnibenevolent)
3. Then His goodness would motivate Him to use His power to eradicate evil.

The intellectual problem of evil is easier to answer since evil’s existence does not, in reality, present the logical contradiction the syllogism suggests. In other words, the conclusion is not a necessary conclusion, only a possible one. While God could use His power to eradicate evil, His goodness does not necessitate such an act. The following will attempt to explain.

There are three possible defenses to the problem of evil:

1. The free-will defense: Many would say that God cannot create a world where there is true freedom, yet determine all that happens. In other words, being all-powerful does not mean that God can do anything. There are many things that God cannot do. For example, God cannot make a square circle, He cannot make a rock so big that He cannot pick it up, He cannot sin, He cannot commit suicide, and He cannot lie (Titus 1:2). In short, God cannot do anything that is inconsistent with His character, and He cannot harmonize logical contradictions (since, by definition, they are beyond reconciliation). According to the free-will defense, it would be a logical contradiction to say that God can create a world where true freedom exists, yet evil is guaranteed not to exist.

Positives:

• It does seem consistent with the very idea of personhood, which requires some degree of freedom.
• God is not ultimately responsible for evil.

Problems:

• True libertarian freedom is a difficult notion to sustain, both biblically and philosophically. While we make free choices, we make them based on who we are, which is not completely self-determined.
• This seems to give ultimate control to human freedom, thereby diminishing the sovereignty of God.
• This does not deal adequately with the problem of natural evils (hurricanes, floods, droughts, etc).

2. The greater good defense: Others would say that God has a transcendent purpose that ultimately legitimizes all evil, even if our understanding of this purpose is absent. What might seem like meaningless suffering and pain to us is actually serving to produce transcendent good. For example, what Joseph’s brothers meant for evil (selling him into slavery out of envy), God used for good (preservation of the nation of Israel). While what the Jewish leaders did to Christ was evil (crucifying Him on a cross), it served God’s purpose as a transcendent good (redemption of humanity). Therefore, God’s goodness is actually harnessing evil to bring about something greater.

Positives:

• Strong biblical support
• Keeps God’s sovereignty intact.
• Brings meaning to suffering even if we don’t understand its end purpose.
• Analogies in our own experience (discipline of children, the pain of a workout, surgery)

Problems:

• Can seem rather cold as a subjective defense of personal pain and suffering
• Would seem that God could find a better way, especially when the evil is so atrocious (loss of children, pedophiles, severe depression)
• It is hard to conceive of any possible good that can be found in certain evils (prolonged suffering of those buried alive, miscarriages that are not even detected, suffering and pain among heathens who never hear the Gospel, etc.).

3. Evil defines good defense: This argument would propose that evil itself is a conduit through which good can find a definition and reality in contrast to its opposite. In other words, one cannot recognize, define, or appreciate good without evil. God allows evil so that good can be seen more clearly. As when a diamond is placed against a black background, one can better appreciate its beauty, so when good is placed against a backdrop of evil, one can understand its true goodness. Other examples may be found in the assumption that without evil circumstances, there can be no acts of bravery, heroism, and self-sacrifice. Therefore, evil creates opportunities for good to present itself as truly good.

Positives:

• Gives evil a purpose
• Finds analogies in real life, where people find distinct dignity as they rise above humanity’s natural evil inclination toward selfishness through outstanding acts of sacrifice.

Negatives:

• Seems like a rather cold way for God to define good
• The assumption that good cannot be defined or recognized without evil is hard to accept. Did God himself not know good until evil was present?
• Does not explain what seems to be meaningless suffering and pain or natural evils

While I have presented these options as mutually exclusive, they are not. In fact, I don’t know of any who will actually defend the Christian worldview with regards to the problem of evil by offering any one of these alone as sufficient. However, some will emphasize one more than another.

I believe all of these have their place so long as they are defined correctly. I believe human freedom is the ultimate cause for the genesis of evil (natural or moral). Yet I also believe God is in providential control of all things, including evil, and has a purpose which He is free to reveal or leave in a shroud of mystery. I also believe that part of the good that comes from the allowance of evil is the opportunity for us to see true righteousness in all its beauty.

Whatever position that we take, we must be sensitive to the magnitude of this issue, especially today. We must also approach these issues with great humility, knowing that the problem of evil is a problem precisely because it causes great pain and suffering. Discouragement and disenchantment with God when evil is present must not be looked down upon with a smug attitude of theological elitism. Theological understanding, mixed with some degree of agnosticism (i.e., not knowing), is vital. This should prepare us to face our own upcoming evils with deep roots. It should also give a foundation for tender comfort to those in pain.

Genesis 50:20
“As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”

Romans 8:18
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”

1 Peter 4:13
“But to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing, so that also at the revelation of His glory you may rejoice with exultation.”

Hebrews 2:10
“For it was fitting for Him, for whom are all things, and through whom are all things, in bringing many sons to glory, to perfect the author of their salvation through sufferings.”

Romans 8:28
“And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”Similar Posts:

• A Brief Primer on the Problem of Evil
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Warning:  You will be leaving the world of Pollyanna Christianity and entering real life.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. (Romans 12:15).  Simple, right?  Well, I find it is when we can relate to what someone else is going through, whether it be pleasure or pain.  The test comes when it is something we can’t relate to and particularly when there is suffering involved that keeps one suffering or hinders the ability to rejoice.

Last Sunday, I left service for the ladies room and ended up in a discussion with one of the leaders.  The doors had closed by the time I came out of the restroom so I sat out in the open area where several big screen TVs were available to watch the service.  A few minutes after I got comfortable on the couch, a woman with a baby came and sat at a table near me.  Admittedly, I am not fond of babies and so my first thought, as is usually my thought whenever sitting in proximity to an infant, was that I hope the kid doesn’t cry.  But to my surprise, my second thought was how much differently that scenario would have impacted a woman who longs to have a baby but for whatever reason it hasn’t happened yet.  I could observe that lady all day long playing with her baby but a would-be-mother in that same scenario would most likely have a different longevity.  It would most likely be too painful.

Now I suppose with the mandate of Romans 12:15, for the non-sufferer there might be some encouragement or maybe just a hug.  But it is likely there would be a limit on the tolerance of how much the person in pain might be allowed to suffer.    Because let’s be honest, if someone is lamenting a situation that does not touch us, that we cannot relate to, we will most likely tend to allow only so much suffering  before the imposition of our thoughts intrude on our tolerance…’they should get over that’ or ‘I don’t understand why they are having such a problem’ or ‘let it go already’.  Our response in that case is tempered by our own sensibilities of what we think a person should or should not suffer.  It will not be long before that attitude is projected in tangible ways leaving the sufferer to feel they must suffer alone.

The same goes for rejoicing when nothing inside of us wants to rejoice.  Anyone who has experienced holes in their life that they want plugged understands the confrontation of their pain with the pleasure of those who enjoy that same thing.  It is different when it doesn’t matter to you than when it does.  I consider my own challenges with my own holes and unanswered prayers as I sit on the sidelines watching a party I long for.  I think of challenges especially today on Father’s Day, as I have witnessed  on Facebook blasts of well wishes for dads and proclamation of great ones.  All I could think of was what of the person for whom Father’s Day is painful, for whatever reason.  It might be hard for that person to rejoice given that internal conflict.  And it might be even harder for the fulfilled Father’s Day celebrator to understand why that person doesn’t rejoice on the same level they do.   Yet, we are to rejoice with the other who is rejoicing.  Admittedly, in some situations that is very difficult.

Relating to pain does not make it any less real for the other person.  Suffering comes in all forms and just because we can’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not valid.  I find too that people generally don’t want to be confronted with suffering.   I think the main issue is that we don’t like suffering, in ourselves or in others.  Cheerful Christianity is much more popular and acceptable.  We want to hear when things are right, not when they’re wrong.   We generally want to be happy and suffering intrudes on that, especially by those who busts our spiritual bubbles with laments.  If something good is happening we expect people to be on board and are aggravated when they aren’t.  Yes, the sufferer must rejoice with the rejoicer but the rejoicer must also suffer with the sufferer.

So what’s the remedy?  The solution is not to prescribe acceptable criteria for suffering but to realize that it is suffering and the person has to work through it.  The remedy is understand when we don’t understand.  The remedy is to step outside of ourselves and exhibit a greater level of sensitivity, curbing exhibitions if necessary.  Remember that the person has something real that is hurting them.  Pray for them, love them, encourage them, minister to them, be there for them but don’t tell them their pain is not valid.  I think by doing that we just might find that the sufferer will be able to rejoice with rejoicers and the non-sufferer will be able to suffer with those who do.

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I was thinking about the pain and its severity the other day. You see, I have been prevented from exercise to some degree, and I love to work out. I love the way it makes me feel. I can always assess how good my workout was by taking account of my pain level the next day. When I can hardly move my arms, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction that my workout was not in vain. We call this being “sore.” If you are not sore the next day (at least to some degree), the workout was a failure, as the lack of soreness is a sign that you did not challenge your muscles enough to tear them down. In this sense, working out intentionally injures our muscles. Sometimes, the soreness is so severe that I cannot straighten my arms. Other times, I walk funny because my quadriceps hurt so badly from the “hip sled.”

But here is the issue: I can deal with the soreness from a good workout all day long. The more pain, the better. Often, when I think about it, the pain from a good workout is just as severe as that from my “degenerative disc decease.” But from one of them, I get a sense of victorious satisfaction. From the other, I have an attitude of debilitating defeat.

Why? Why does the same severity of pain bring about such contrasting attitudes?

Charles Darwin began his journey, according to his testimony, as a Christian. In fact, there was the possibility of him going into ministry before his ride on the Beagle. However, there were some things that changed his mind. No, it was not his “discovery” of evolution that changed him. In fact, it was something else that pushed him into this evolutionary paradigm: meaninglessness. More precisely, meaningless suffering. In his book Saving Darwin, Karl Giberson gives three primary observations in nature that contributed to Darwin’s eventual rejection of God. The first was a species of rhea. They were flightless birds. “Why would God create a bird with so much unused aerodynamic paraphernalia?” A bird with wings that could not fly, according to Darwin, made the wings meaningless and sad (p. 33). The second was a goose that, though it had webbed feet, never went into the water. “If this was the handiwork of God, it was a cruel joke” to make him try to walk on meaningless webbed feet (ibid). Finally, there was the Ichneumonidae wasp. The mother wasp introduces a paralyzing chemical into a caterpillar and then lays its eggs inside. The hatched wasps have instincts that cause them to eat the host caterpillar in such a way that keeps the caterpillar alive as long as possible. From Darwin’s perspective, God could not be responsible for such a horrific and painful process.

There were two other pains that Darwin could not reconcile with his Christian worldview. One was the doctrine of hell. Concerning the idea of eternal punishment, Darwin wrote near the end of his life, “I can hardly imagine anyone who would wish Christianity to be true . . . The plain language of the text seems to show that men who do not believe, and this would include my father, brother, and almost all my friends, will be everlastingly punished. And this is a damnable doctrine” (The Autobiography of Charles Darwin and Selected Letters, p. 87). Then there was the death of his daughter, Annie, at the age of 11. This came towards the end of his faith, when he still struggled to believe in a good God. His prayers for his daughter’s survival went unanswered. The remainder of his faith died with her.

Why all of this about Darwin? Because it shows how powerful the idea of meaningless suffering is. One can ascribe meaninglessness to all kinds of things, but when pain loses the force of meaning, its power is enough to rob us of all meaning.

Pain and suffering is a matter of perspective. If we can look up and find the hand of God behind the hurt, then we can bear it. But when God’s hand seems far from our pain, we become disillusioned. I don’t fault Darwin for his loss of faith. Well, let me put it another way. I cannot imagine losing a child, especially at the age of eleven. While I sit here today hoping and aspiring to be able to handle such a tragedy in a way that is fitting for my faith, I honestly don’t know how I would respond.

My sister committed suicide at the age of 33, after a long battle of depression. We all called on God to heal her to no avail. I can look at that right now and find a bit of meaning. In my own subjectivity, I put the puzzle of her death together and, whether my interpretation is right or not, I can see a picture of hope. My mother had an aneurysm and stroke that happened two years later, at the age of 57. She is unable to walk or talk (except some really odd phrases) and seems to have a child’s mentality. As I take care of her each Friday (Fridays are my day), I often grope to find meaning. That puzzle is not quite as easy to put together right now.

On to something less severe (but still retaining faith-disruption potential): Due to financial issues, my family and I are only able to rent a house. We just moved into a house right down the street from the Credo House a year ago. However, three weeks ago, our landlord said that they are moving back into their house and we have thirty days to get out. Financially, another move (finding a new home, down payments, and the cost of the move itself) was just beyond our ability to bear – but we had to do it. It is incredibly frustrating and, seemingly, meaningless. It was like the webbed feet of those ducks. Why? Why do we already have to move, Lord? Why when we cannot afford it? It is hard to make sense of it all.

Let me say this again: It is not just suffering and pain that is at issue. It is that which seems to be meaningless suffering and pain. It is the type which may cause us to think it makes more sense if God is not in control. It is the difference between being sore from a workout and having a sciatic nerve that lays its eggs in your life.

I was telling Carrie (my assistant) the other day that there are two types of Christians out there: those that find immediate hope and reasoning behind every pain and are perpetually joyful, and those who simply ”punt to the eschaton” (the end) to find their joy and meaning. More often than I would like, I punt to the eschaton. I am not saying that is the right thing to do, but it is biblical.

The thing that must unite us as Christians is that there is no such thing as “meaningless.” That word does not need to be in our vocabulary. It is a word reserved for the atheist, the deist, and the pantheist, but not the Christian. I am not saying we don’t look it in the face from time to time (God knows I do), I am just saying that we cannot allow ourselves to camp there. That campground is off-limits for Christians. There are so many things out there that have webbed feet on dry land. There are so many sciatic nerves which cause us to cry “why?” There are so many mothers who are unable to walk or talk. There are so many children who die untimely deaths. There are so many times when a move seems meaningless. But our faith is not dependent on finding immediate understanding and fulfillment for our pain. Sometimes we do punt to the eschaton knowing that there is meaning behind it, even if we don’t know what that meaning is today.

Darwin’s problem was that he put God on trial. He required God to give an immediate answer for the oddities of pain. He placed himself above God and became God’s judge, jury, and executioner.

Isa 55:8-9
“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

Do we really believe this when we are going through what seems to be meaningless pain? Or do we play God and require him to give an account of himself? Do we really believe that all things work together for good for those that love God (Rom. 8:28)? Is the “webbed feet on dry land” destroying your faith?

Pain is a matter of perspective. All things can be either soreness from a workout or a meaningless sciatic nerve. God knows what he is doing with ducks that don’t swim and he knows what he is doing with you.Similar Posts:

• An Outline of What I Taught on Suffering and Evil
• Sometimes Believing God is the Cosmic Telos of Our Suffering
• A Brief Primer on the Problem of Evil
• The Problem of Evil in a Nutshell
• Dealing With Pleasure and Pain of Others When We Can’t Relate

Our reconnect involved uncomfortable re-tellings of our former days of sin along with some (compromising?) laughter about such. We spent the next year, however, talking about Christ. I was very excited and prayerfully hopeful about what God might be doing in his life. We talked on the phone about once a week. Often, it would be for hours late into the night. During these talks, he would present his objections and questions and I would present the possible answers. He would put his wife on speaker phone many times to ask questions of her own and listen along. I sent him a couple of books that really helped him overcome some of his misleadings concerning the nature of Christianity. Primarily, he saw Christianity as a legalistic set of “do’s and dont’s.” He had never even come in contact with the idea of grace. Our conversations culminated in his reading of Chuck Swindoll’s Grace Awakening. He was refreshed. Hurdle #1, successfully jumped.

In the backdrop of our conversations was his supposed perception that Christianity is naive and has no place for the serious intellectual reasonings. We talked much about this and I sent him a copy of one of my favorite apologetics books (save the Open Theology leanings) Letters to a Skeptic by Gregory Boyd. He slowly began to see that the central tenants of Christianity were not only sustainable but ultimately persuasive. Hurdle #2: successfully jumped.

Through this process, his objections, it seemed to me, were slowly losing their hope and sustainability. It was incredible to see the slow transformation of his mind. The misinformation was corrected. The intellectual conviction was now present. He had only one step left: an act of the will to stand before Christ and proclaim his helpless condition and ask for mercy. We were almost there.

But then he asked a question that I did not expect.

It was the day of Angie (my sister’s) funeral. He came to my parent’s house along with many other guests after I had preached at the church. He sat by the side of the house, timidly lurking about, not really knowing what to say. He knew Angie well and, like the rest of us, was devastated and confused by her passing. When we finally talked (it was the first time that I had seen him since our reconnect), I could tell something was on his mind that needed to be expressed. It was something that the tragic circumstances of that week brought to his mind. It was a new objection that went beyond mere information and intellectual vitality. 

We began to talk outside by his car. He mentioned my sermon at the funeral and seemed very appreciative. We talked a bit about Angie and many of our friends that had shown up. Then things turned serious.

“Look, Michael,” he said, as if all our conversation until this point was just a deterring prelude to something more, “I get it!”

“Get what?” I responded.

“I get it. Call me whatever you want—a believer, Christian, or whatever . . . I get it. I believe. I believe all that stuff about Christ.”

Then there was some silence. I knew there was something more coming.

He continued, “But I am scared.”

“Scared of what.”

“You love Jesus and have been doing so much for him,” he said. ”Yet look at what has happened to you. Look at what happened to your sister. Look at the pain of your family. Look at your mom. Especially your mom. Your poor mom. She has always been into Jesus. She is the best example of a Christian I know of. Look at what God is doing to her. I am scared. I am scared of God.”

After another period of silence he asked the question of the hour, “Will God protect my kids?”

He went on, “Will he protect them or is he going to do to me what he did to your mom? Because from where I sit it looks like that if you follow the Lord too closely, he brings terrible things into your life. I love my children and I am scared to death that he might hurt them or take them from me because I follow him . . . to test me or something. I don’t want that.”

My friend was no longer questioning the reality of God, Christ, the resurrection, or even his own need for a savior. He was questioning God’s plan. He was questioning God’s intentions. Simply put, he was scared of God.

This is really the broader question of suffering. But it is also particular. It is not, “Why does God allow suffering in general?” It was not even a “why?” question. It was a “will?” question. What will God do? What can I expect as a child of God? What kind of Father is he with regards to these things? Is he going to require too much of me? It is a question of counting the cost of following the Lord.

How do we answer such questions?

Wrong Answers:

Wrong answer #1: Yes, of course he will protect your children. That is one of the benefits of being a child of God. Sign the dotted line.

I have searched throughout the Scriptures and cannot find any guarantees that when we follow the Lord, we, along with our loved ones, fall under a shield of protection that guarantees physical longevity, health, or safety. Believe me, I have searched for such promises.

My friend Trevin Wax in his upcoming book Counterfeit Gospels calls this the “Therapeutic Gospel.” It is the Gospel that offers benevolent guarantees of mundane goodness. It is the Gospel that says that once you have faith in God, you can expect physical blessings and security. About this Trevin says:

“If you believe that coming to Christ will make life easier and better, then you will be disappointed when suffering comes your way. Storms destroy our homes. Cancer eats up our bodies. Economic recessions steal our jobs. If you see God as a vending machine, then you will become disillusioned when your candy bar doesn’t drop. You may get angry and want to start banging on the machine. Or maybe you will be plagued with guilt, convinced that your suffering indicates God’s disapproval of something you’ve done. When we emphasize the temporal blessings that come from following Christ, we plant the seeds for a harvest of heartbreak.” (p. 54)

Some people object bringing up certain passages of Scripture. Certainly, in the Old Testament, Israel lived under a different set of rules in their relationship with God. These rules provided physical and national blessings for obedience and curses for disobedience (Duet. 28). But we, this side of the New Testament, are not under the this covenant. Those type of provisions, limited though they were (i.e. the Israelites still died), do not apply to us. Theologians speak of this as a “Theocracy.” A theocracy is a kingdom or a type of government where God was the king providing blessings to his subjects for obedience. Even then, the blessings were for the nation as a whole, not necessarily for every individual (as is evidenced by the provision for the poor and maimed under the old system). Christ came and fulfilled the law and we entered into a new covenant.

Under this new covenant, we don’t have the guarantees of national blessings that the Israelites had, much less individual blessings of guaranteed health and longevity. In fact, we can see very clearly that those who followed Christ the closest in the New Testament suffered much, being imprisoned for their faith and even suffering martyrdom.

Wrong answer #2: No, he will not protect your children. There is a good chance that God will take them from you to test your faith. Its called “bearing your cross.”

This is also an answer we must avoid. Suffering and evil are a part of the fall and are in God’s hands. While God uses suffering to bring us closer to him and while we should not be surprised by these type of trials (1 Pet 4:12), we don’t know what God is going to do in our lives. Matthew 5:45 says that God “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.” Suffering and pain are part of life. They are a part of everyone’s life. There is no way to know what God is going to do. While God is not in the business of making sure everyone lives as long a life as possible, he does desire Christians to live as full a life as possible. All Christians I know have their share of suffering. All people I know have their share of suffering. The major difference between the suffering of the believer and the suffering of the non-believer is that the believers’ suffering is full of purpose. Romans 8:28 says that God is working all things together for good for those that love him. This “all things” includes suffering. One thing we can be sure of is that life is going to take many terrible turns, but to know that these things have meaning and purpose does make it bearable.

Wrong answer #3:  Your misinterpreting things here. God was not involved in the death of my sister. God wanted my sister to live, but she decided to take her own life. God is not in control of the well-being of your children either. He has a “hands-off” policy to these type of things.

This is often referred to as “Open Theology”. It puts God in the cheerleading section of the game of life. Many people do this so that they can live with the reality of evil. If God could not have stopped what happened, then he is acquitted in their mind of any charge of creational malpractice.

However, this is not the God of Christianity. The God of Christianity is a God who is sovereign over everything that happens. Daniel 4:34-35 is one of the great passages in all of Scripture speaking of God’s sovereignty. “His dominion is an eternal dominion; his kingdom endures from generation to generation. All the peoples of the earth are regarded as nothing. He does as he pleases with the powers of heaven and the peoples of the earth. No one can hold back his hand or say to him: ‘What have you done?’” Even Satan has to come to God for permission to act (Job 1:6-12).

This does not mean that evil and suffering are part of God’s perfect plan, but they are a part of his redeeming plan. Death, sin, and suffering are all evil. They were brought into the world when man fell in Eden. But God’s redeeming plan uses sin to right the wrong. This is why God brought the greatest evil in the history of the world upon his Son. What seemed to be a defeat when Christ died on the cross was a wonderful expression of God’s love, redemption, and sovereignty introduced, not by the will of man, but by the predetermined plan of God (Acts 4:27-28). 

God is in control of all things, even our suffering.

My Answer:

“I don’t know if God will protect your kids in the way that you desire. I really don’t. I am sorry.” I had no guarantees for my friend. There are no prenuptial agreements that we can have had God sign.   

I love the story in the book of John. In John 21, Christ has already risen from the grave. He is talking to Peter and has some hard news. He tells Peter, in essence, that he is going to suffer and die for his faith. Peter, curious and somewhat agitated, looks at his friend John, looks back at Christ and says, “What about him. Is he going to die too?”

That is where we are. We come to Christ and say, “What about . . . ? What are you going to do? What is in store for me if I follow you? Are you going to protect my children?” I suppose that the Lord’s response to Peter is the best answer we are ever going to get. Christ said to Peter “If I want him [John] to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me” (John 21:22). In the Greek, this is emphatic. You follow me. “Take your eyes off the details of the future and you follow me.” “I have got John under control. You follow me.” “Your children are mine and I love them. You follow me.” “I don’t follow you. You follow me.”

We don’t come to Christ because of guarantees of health, wealth, or protection from physical danger. We come to him because he is Lord. We don’t become Christians because of fringe benefits, we become Christians because Christianity is true. We come to Christ and bow our knee knowing he loves us enough to die for us. We come to him knowing that his plan, whatever that may be, is full of love, purpose, and wisdom. We come to him because of the guarantees of the life to come, not the guarantees of this life.Similar Posts:

• An Outline of What I Taught on Suffering and Evil
• God loves me, God loves me not . . .
• The Problem of Evil in a Nutshell
• A Brief Primer on the Problem of Evil
• “No” is No Response to Unanswered Prayer

• 200 million Christians in at least 60 countries are denied fundamental human rights solely because of their faith.
• 176,000 Christians are martyred each year.
• If the trend continues, 210,000 Christians will be martyred in 2025.
• Abel was the first Christian martyr in the Bible (Gen. 4:8).
• James was the last Christian martyr in the Bible (Acts 12:2).
• The divorce rate among Christians and non-Christians is about the same.
• The percentage of Christian who get cancer is the same as the percentage of non-Christians
• The death rate of Christians and non-Christians is the same:
  • 1/1 Christians who tithe die
  • 1/1 Christians who pray regularly die
  • 1/1 Christians who go to church regularly die
  • 1/1 Christians with orthodox theology die
  • 1/1 Christians die
  • 1/1 non-Christians die

The main point: Christians should not expect to be delivered from the problems of this life.

The “Problem” of Suffering and Evil Defined:

• Premise 1: God is all-good (omnibenevolent)
• Premise 2: God is all powerful (omnipotent)
• Premise 3: Suffering and evil exist
• Conclusion: An all-good all-powerful God could not exist sense there is so much suffering and evil in the world. If he did, he would eradicate it.

Wrong Ways to Look at this:

The Sadotheistic response:

• Premise 1: God is all-good (omnibenevolent)
• Premise 2: God is all powerful (omnipotent)
• Premise 3: Suffering and Evil Exist
• Conclusion: God does not really care whether suffering and evil occur.

Open Theistic Response:

• Premise 1: God is all-good (omnibenevolent)
• Premise 2: God is all powerful (omnipotent; God has limited his own power for the sake of free-will)
• Premise 3: Suffering and evil exist
• Conclusion: God has self-limited his abilities so that he can truly relate to mankind. Therefore God cannot stop all suffering and evil.

The Pantheistic Response:

• Premise 1: God is all-good (omnibenevolent)
• Premise 2: God is all powerful (omnipotent)
• Premise 3: Suffering and evil exist
• Conclusion: Suffering and Evil is an illusion that we create with our own mind. To eradicate it, we must deny its existence.

Christian View:

• Premise 1: God is all-good (omnibenevolent)
• Premise 2: God is all powerful (omnipotent)
• Premise 3: Suffering and evil exist
• Conclusion: God has a reason for allowing suffering and evil to accomplish a greater good, even if we never know what that reason is.

Types of suffering and evil Christians can expect:

• Physical: pain, cancer, accidents, etc.
• Emotional: depression, anxiety, etc.
• Financial: bankruptcy, poverty, etc.
• Spiritual: personal sin, God’s hiddenness and silence, spiritual depression, etc.
• “Meaningless”: stubbing my toe, minor irritations, phone dropped in the toilet, flu.
• Referred: suffering of others, loved ones, world news, Facebook friends

Matt. 5:45

“He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”

My emphasis during this session is that while we experience the evil of this world, while we get discouraged about so many things, don’t ever take God off the throne. He is in charge of the evil and suffering and uses it for his own purposes. Don’t deny his goodness, his power (sovereignty), or the reality of the pain. Hand it over to him. He knows what he is doing.Similar Posts:

• A Brief Primer on the Problem of Evil
• The Problem of Evil in a Nutshell
• If Evil, Why God?
• Sometimes Believing God is the Cosmic Telos of Our Suffering
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I remember when a church I was attending switched from one service to two. It was not pretty. Most certainly the church needed it. It was packed. The general rule is when the service is consistently up to eighty percent full, plans need to be made for some sort of change. If no change is sought, filling out that extra twenty-percent usually won’t even happen. The idea is that people don’t like to be that crowded and will just seek other places of worship. It was time for this church to think bigger.

Half the people thought it was a good idea. The other half did not. The half that did not argued that it would take away from the intimacy that was currently present. They liked the way it was and did not want it to change. The half that did wanted to experience the excitement of growth and new faces. They liked the way it could be and were willing to risk the change. It is amazing how many people left because of this growth ”problem.”

Change did occur. A second service was inaugurated. Invariable, certain (predictable) things happened. There was an “early” and a “late” service. Those who did not want the change (and stuck around) went to the first service. I don’t know why, I suppose it felt like it was the “original” service. Those who did want the change went to the second service.

Head with me for a slight turn here.

When I preach at a church that has two services, more often than not, I get a lot better reception from the second service than from the first. They laugh more at my jokes. They cry more at . . . well, those parts they are suppose to cry. Their facial expressions are more dynamically indicative of the movements of the sermon. And there is even a bigger line of people who want to talk to me afterward. All and all, it is simply a more positive experience during the second service.

“Yeah, that is because the second service is LATER, Michael. People are more awake!”

I don’t think so. You see, first service Christians never fall asleep. Their eyes do not even glaze over. Fatigue is not the issue. They are listening to be sure. But the type of listening is different. Generally, they are more likely to have their arms crossed. Their countenance seems to default to scowl. If it is not, then they look like they are having to make quite an effort at keeping it from gravitating to such. In short, they are more critical. It is as if they are looking for creative ways to criticize me rather than listen to the word of God and let it change them. Are they waiting for me to slip up? Do they already know everything? Are they (perish the thought) the fundamentalists of the church? I don’t know. But one thing I do know is that excitement and energy are far from them.

When this church switched to two services, there were two personality types that were separated. Those who did not want growth and change and those who did. First service Christians are protective. They are protective of their way of life. They are protective of their truth. They have made it as far as they can go and only exist to keep the status quo. On this journey called Christianity, they have set up camp, become comfortable in this camp, built walls to protect themselves, keeping their flock in and others out, and stationed canons pointed toward the outside. They are scary to be around. It’s that simple.

Second service Christians are excited about possibilities. They are never ready to make camp and build walls. Their arsenal is small. They have “Yes faces.”  They are looking for the good first, rather than the bad. They gravitate toward acceptance rather than criticism. Their arms are never crossed. They just seem to have hope. That is why I like to preach during the second service.

Now, hopefully you have realized that much of what I have said is somewhat metaphorical. It is not really about first and second services. 

I know of a local church pastor who is head of one of the largest churches in America. One time he said that he would not hire pastors who were outside of their 20s. When asked why, he said because in your 20s, you still believe you can change the world. After your 20s, you don’t.

I have struggled with this idea. Most of the struggle is because I realize there is some sense of truth to what he is saying. Many times when we get older, we slowly lose the excitement about life and possibilities. We start to become first service Christians. Our self-evaluated “wisdom” and experience reekss of bitterness, hopelessness, and a downcast spirit. We begin to fold our arms to life itself. Any thoughts of change, hope and development become living heresies. “Been there, done that” is our motto. Joy is replaced by self-preservation. We become immobile and, worse, we justify this and seek to reproduce after our kind. We just want things to remain as they are. Change is a treat.

Not all first service Christians are “first service Christians”…don’t go there. And I know that there are churches who have more than two services, so don’t ask about “third service Christians.” By now you should know that the first and second service stuff is not really my point. Also, not all of us outside our 20s are “first service Christians” (I hope!). But we have to fight, as individuals and churches, to keep from becoming such. The moment this disease (and it is a disease) infects us, spiritual rigamortis is next on the calendar. The gravitational pull of lives filled with hurt and disappointment causes us to roll up into a ball on the floor for the remainder of our existence.

But we are not called to be in this ball. We cannot duck our head in our shell. Yes, change, development and starting a second service are all risky. Standing up straight is risky. It is easier to have no hope than to expose ourselves by fickle hope again. It is easier to be critical than hopefully accepting. But did you know “Been there, done that” is not in the Proverbs?

Let us find joy again. Let us become second service Christians and return to the joys of hope and possibilities.Similar Posts:

• A Theology of More III: Worship
• Should We Be able to Interupt a Sermon?
• Why Even Bother Going to Church?
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