“God is up in heaven where everything is pleasant, while we are down here suffering.”—Mary.*

TODAY’S young people have been born into a cruel world. Tragic earthquakes and natural disasters that snuff out the lives of thousands seem to be commonplace. Wars and terrorist attacks dominate the news. Sickness, disease, crime, and accidents rob us of loved ones. For Mary, quoted above, evil hit close to home. Her bitter words were uttered after the death of her father.
When tragedy touches us personally, it is only human to feel frustration, loss, or even anger. ‘Why did this have to happen?’ you may wonder. ‘Why me?’ or ‘Why now?’ Such questions deserve satisfying answers. But to get the right answers, we must go to the right source. Granted, as a youth named Turrell observed, sometimes people are “hurting too much to think things through.” So you may need to find a way to calm your emotions a bit so that you can think—logically and rationally.
Facing Unpleasant Realities
It may be unpleasant to contemplate, but death and suffering are facts of life. Job put it well when he said: “Man, born of woman, is short-lived and glutted with agitation.”—Job 14:1.
The Bible promises a new world in which “righteousness is to dwell.” (2 Peter 3:13; Revelation 21:3, 4) Before those ideal conditions are realized, however, mankind must go through a time of unprecedented wickedness. “Know this,” says the Bible, “in the last days critical times hard to deal with will be here.”—2 Timothy 3:1.
How long will these difficult times last? Jesus’ disciples asked more or less the same question. But Jesus did not give them a specific day or hour when this misery-stricken system of things would end. Instead, Jesus said: “He that has endured to the end is the one that will be saved.” (Matthew 24:3, 13) Jesus’ words encourage us to take a long-range view. We must be prepared to endure many unpleasant situations before the end finally comes.
Is God to Blame?
Does it makes sense, then, to be angry with God because he permits suffering? Not when you consider that God has promised to end all suffering. Nor does it make sense to feel that God causes bad things to happen. Many tragic happenings are simply the result of random events. Imagine, for example, that the wind blows a tree down and it injures someone. People may call this an act of God. But God did not make that tree fall down. The Bible helps us to appreciate that such things are simply the sad result of “time and unforeseen occurrence.”—Ecclesiastes 9:11.
Suffering may also stem from poor judgment. Suppose a group of youths indulge in alcoholic beverages and then go for a drive. A serious accident results. Who is to blame? God? No, they have reaped the consequences of their poor judgment.—Galatians 6:7.
‘But isn’t God powerful enough to end suffering now?’ you may ask. Some faithful men in Bible times wondered about that. The prophet Habakkuk asked God: “Why is it that you look on those dealing treacherously, that you keep silent when someone wicked swallows up someone more righteous than he is?” However, Habakkuk did not jump to hasty conclusions. He said: “I shall keep watch, to see what he will speak by me.” Later, God assured him that at an “appointed time,” He would end suffering. (Habakkuk 1:13; 2:1-3) We must therefore be patient, waiting for God to end wickedness at his appointed time.
Avoid jumping to the rash conclusion that God somehow wants us to suffer or that he is personally testing us. It is true that suffering can bring out the best in us and that the Bible says that the trials God allows can refine our faith. (Hebrews 5:8; 1 Peter 1:7) Indeed, many people who undergo trialsome or traumatic experiences do become more patient or compassionate. But we should not conclude that their suffering was God’s doing. Such thinking does not take God’s love and wisdom into account. The Bible plainly states: “When under trial, let no one say: ‘I am being tried by God.’ For with evil things God cannot be tried nor does he himself try anyone.” On the contrary, from God comes “every good gift and every perfect present”!—James 1:13, 17.
Why God Permits Evil
From where, then, does evil come? Remember that God has opposers—principally the “one called Devil and Satan, who is misleading the entire inhabited earth.” (Revelation 12:9) God placed our first parents, Adam and Eve, in a trouble-free world. But Satan convinced Eve that she would be better off without God’s rulership. (Genesis 3:1-5) Sadly, Eve believed Satan’s lies and disobeyed God. Adam joined her in this rebellion. The result? “Death spread to all men,” says the Bible.—Romans 5:12.
Rather than immediately squashing this rebellion by destroying Satan and his followers, God saw fit to allow time to pass. What would that accomplish? For one thing, it would allow Satan to be exposed as a liar! It would allow proof to accumulate that independence from God brings nothing but ruin. Is that not exactly what has taken place? “The whole world is lying in the power of the wicked one.” (1 John 5:19) Furthermore, “man has dominated man to his injury.” (Ecclesiastes 8:9) Mankind’s religions are a maze of conflicting teachings. Morals have fallen to an all-time low. Human governments have tried every conceivable form of rule. They sign treaties and adopt laws, but the needs of the common people are still unfulfilled. Wars add misery on misery.
Clearly, we need to have God intervene and end wickedness! But this will happen only in God’s due time. Until then, it is our privilege to support God’s rulership by obeying his laws and principles as found in the Bible. When bad things happen, we can take comfort in the confident hope of life in a trouble-free world.
Not Alone
Still, when suffering touches us personally, we may find ourselves asking, ‘Why me?’ The apostle Paul reminds us, however, that we are not alone in suffering evil. Paul says that “all creation keeps on groaning together and being in pain together until now.” (Romans 8:22) Knowing this fact can help you to cope with suffering. Nicole, for example, was emotionally traumatized by the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, in New York City and Washington, D.C. “I was horrified and scared,” she admits. But as she read accounts of how her fellow Christians coped with that tragedy, her viewpoint changed.# “I realized that I’m not alone at all. Slowly I’ve begun to recover from my pain and grief.”

It may be helpful to express your grief
In some cases, it is wise to seek out someone you can talk to—a parent, a mature friend, or a Christian elder. Pouring out your feelings to someone you trust will allow you to receive a “good word” of encouragement. (Proverbs 12:25) A young Brazilian Christian recalls: “I lost my father nine years ago, and I know that Jehovah will resurrect him one day. But something that helped me was putting my feelings in writing. Also, I talked things out with my Christian friends.” Do you have any ‘true companions’ in whom you can confide? (Proverbs 17:17) Then benefit from their loving help! Don’t be afraid to cry or express your emotions. Why, even Jesus once “gave way to tears” over the tragic loss of a friend!—John 11:35.
The Bible assures us that one day we will be “set free from enslavement to corruption” and enjoy “the glorious freedom of the children of God.” (Romans 8:21) Until then, many good people may suffer. Take comfort in knowing why such suffering takes place—and that it will not last long.

I don’t think God acted in self-interest in created beings who can voluntarily love God-Father, Son and Spirit. Just the opposite as a matter of fact. Creation was so that the Trinitarian God’s love, unity and joy could be shared with others. The Calvinistic mantra that everything was decreed (including unspeakable evil) for his glory seems to me to make God horribly egocentric. But I could be misunderstanding the issue.

God’s greatest glory is giving himself away.

Thanks for stopping by and commenting.
John

To be honest with you, I have met many believers who subscribe to various “brands” of theology, and this rarely seems to correlate with their spiritual maturity or their affections towards God. Likewise I know plenty of brothers and sisters of all theological backgrounds who have terrible thoughts about God and have no clue how to live out the Christian faith. Just as you council hurting people coming from Calvinist backgrounds (who maybe think of God as a hairy thunderer), I was the equivalent coming from an Armenian upbringing (who thought of God as a weak cosmic muffin).

Sometimes wonder if I am too quick to dismiss someone’s thoughts. Once becoming aware of theology, I remember being so curious about Calvinists and how they can think about God as they do and actually be in love with him. This curiosity drove me to understand. I’m not saying I am a Calvinist now, but I don’t mind telling you that journey changed my life.

One of the things I began to ponder is this: If God, as you say (correct me if I’m wrong), created the human race with free will for the resulting love relationship that would then be possible, He has still acted in His own self interests. God knew free will would be detrimental to mankind; however, He was willing to give it, which means He placed something before the safety and well being of the human race. His own glory perhaps?

I’m not saying this was a bad decision or that an all-knowing and perfect Creator can be selfish, because it isn’t possible for Him to be; however, I am saying that some of us only think we’re getting God “off the hook,” so to speak, and we’re not at all. In other words, we can talk about God being great, and we can talk about Satan being bad, and we can have our neat little explanations for all the inconvenience and tragedy in life, but I don’t think we can escape the fact that we are not the highest priority in this whole story. I don’t think we can escape the fact that the point of our existence is to worship The Creator with our very lives.

If that’s true, then I’m not sure figuring out who to blame for World War 2 is my biggest fish to fry. Maybe it is. Maybe the answer to that question solves all of my theological problems. All I know is that I must work to keep affections for God stirred up in my heart, and in order to do this, it has been necessary to be able to say that I love and trust Him no matter what. If He ordained or willed or allowed that tragedy to happen for some reason I can’t understand, then it is well with my soul. It has to be. To whom else will I turn? There is no other.

Some days I find myself ready to trust God, even if that means lying down in His gigantic hands to be crushed or to die for the sake of the gospel or…whatever else for His glory. Funny thing is happiness and fulfillment are at all-time highs for me when my heart is in that posture of surrender. Maybe that is how we are meant to live? Oh, I think the doctrine of God’s sovereignty can be really beautiful and helpful when balanced with the rest of the scriptures. He is in control. And He is good.

~Just my thoughts,
Chris

The reason (to use your language) we need Platonic philosophy in the biblical text is because there’s always already philosophy we’re putting in it when we’re reading. The philosophy that I fear Boyd reads into the biblical text (and it’s illusory to think one doesn’t do this, for there is always something in the background that informs the meanings of the words we use — words like free or perhaps even God) prevents him from talking about God properly. These meanings (probably somewhat more dynamic than I’m letting on) that are there before he uses them pull God into the creaturely world and make God one being among many whether he wants them to or not. When this happens, all language about God shifts, and, some theologians would say we’re no longer talking about God. That is the effect of the shift in understanding of causality by Duns Scotus and William of Ockham. Christian use of philosophy is almost always ad hoc. It is very rare (and perhaps impossible, depending on one’s views of the possibility of the “Thomistic synthesis”) to have a fully systematic Christian philosophy. Some theologians (such as Reinhard Huetter) think that it is the loss of neo-platonic ideas of participation in relation to analogical language about God that precipitated not only some of the major modern tendencies toward unbelief (there’s a way of reading Charles Taylor’s Sources of the Self this way) but also moral crises. Specifically, the argument is that nominalist voluntarism that denies that the intellectual will can be both directed by the Good and free has come under fire in modern moral philosophy. Both Kantianism (which is more complex and which I am deeply sympathetic with) and utilitarianism are seen from this perspective as moral systems we have when we can no longer talk about the good and the moral life. Servais Pinckaers (who Stanley Hauerwas thinks is one of the main writers of JPII’s Veritatis Splendor) makes this argument and contrasts “freedom of indifference” with “freedom for excellence” in his book Sources of Christian Ethics. He wrote a chapter that may cover some similar themes in the Cambridge Companion to the Summa that Denys Turner is editing right now.

Sean: By all means, read Hasker’s piece. You’re not likely to agree with his view, but it’s a thing of beauty.

…especially analytic philosophers, tend to allow their controlling question to be the problem of evil on matters of divine providence.

What does this mean? And how does the last clause of the last sentence of your comment relate to the preceding clause? Are you saying that the problem of evil is a far less interesting question than questions about freedom and power?

I used to think the logical and inductive problems of evil were really interesting. In my intro classes I used to spend a fair amount of time on them, taking students through the various moves and counter moves. And then it occurred to me. While my students should know what those problems are and have perhaps a general sense of the issues involved, the problem of evil that either has already kept them up some nights or will keep them up some nights, is not either of those merely academic problems; no, the problem that either has will keep them up is the religious or existential problem of evil, the problem of how to think about horrific instances of evil in light of a commitment to some sort of Divine providence. I don’t know that I’d say this is an “interesting” problem. But I would say it’s a problem of profound and paramount importance. (To say it’s interesting leaves a bad taste in my mouth; it’s to think of the problem in a disembodied sort of way. It’s sorta like the difference between a brain surgeon thinking of brain cancer as a “problem” and thinking of one’s spouse’s or child’s brain cancer as a “problem”.” Anyway, my aim is not to sell students on my view of these matters, but to get them to see what they are committing themselves to if they embrace various views. What their views cost them.

As for Keith, you can do better than working through issues with Keith. He’s a first-rate philosopher and a mighty decent human being.

I think Boyd is writing pastorally as well as theologically. Why do we need to press Platonic philosophy onto the biblical text?

My major problem is in the alternative that seems to reign: either widgets or children. It is the same as Hartshorne’s problem at the end of The Divine Relativity (an argument for a dynamic, relational account of God not significantly different from Boyd’s as far as I can tell). This is what you get when you begin to give up the second order belief (very hard to hold after nominalists like Ockham and Scotus, but mostly just Ockham) that God is radically transcendent and therefore exists on a higher plane of causality that is non-competitive with the creaturely sphere. Tanner’s project in her book is to argue that this second order belief needs to be made first order in order to preserve Christian faith in the “modern world”.

I don’t think Boyd (I haven’t read Hasker) to be far too surfacy and selective in his account of God. One can’t just decide what seems to be the case from one’s impressions of the biblical narrative; that’s what I think Boyd does. One case in point is the treatment of open theists of the static, eternal now of Augustine. For Augustine (see book III of De Trinitate, which is all about the way an eternal God relates to the world), God’s eternity meant not that God was somehow less alive, but as fully alive as possible, fully present to Godself in a way that we can’t even imagine so that all of God’s thoughts and works were always simultaneously present. God is, so to speak, overflowing with life — not static. It is only because we take our embodied, time-bound standard of what it means to be alive as the highest possible account of life that we project ourselves into an omnitemporality and give God as many powers as we could possibly imagine, and we think that anything like what Augustine says makes God sound like a machine.

I think Augustine’s account of God is very livable. Again, read De Trinitate. Living into God is the entire point. I think the problem is some ideas of what freedom must mean that came out of nominalist philosophers (mostly Fransicans) that prevent us from understanding this. Boyd’s account of freedom is held captive to an account of freedom that is, I think, finally antithetical to the gospel; it makes it very difficult to imagine how God could be incarnate (see Tanner’s Jesus, Humanity, and the Trinity). It is no surprise that the next move is to resort to a kenotic Christology. Augustine and Thomas are two great champions on the freedom of the will. But they don’t mean what many today mean by it. That should give one pause and cause one to figure out what changed. I think that Augustine’s account of God can “live” in another way. Serene Jones (Reformed theologian at Yale and now president-elect of union seminary) made the point in a seminar on trauma and grace that a classical augustinian God is exactly what someone who has been raped or shell shocked needs to save them (this seems to me to be an uncommon thing for a feminist theologian to say) — not a co-sufferer, etc. We could go back and forth forever on what lives better or what is pastorally better. That seems to be a matter of taste, which can often be quite undisciplined. But then we’re not really having a theological discussion.