The Problem of Evil and Wishful Thinking

At the "Debating Christianity" site I recently began a discussion with the above thread title. In it I posed the following skeptical dilemma:

In Christian theology evil is a function of moral freedom. The painful results of evil can be felt by each of us, to varying degrees, every day. Many skeptics tell me that this situation is logically incompatible with the very God described in Christian theology. Therefore the barest hint of evil – let alone the gross injustice that persistently plagues our world – is enough to negate Christianity completely.

But Christian theology also posits a comprehensive solution to the problem of evil, one "built in" to the creation from the beginning. That solution begins with the work of atonement and subsequent resurrection of Christ, and culminates in everlasting life in the kingdom of heaven. Many skeptics tell me that such a scenario is just wishful thinking, a failure to squarely face the harsh realities of life.

It seems to me, then, that for many skeptics any amount of evil is too much and no evil at all is not enough. But that can't be right. Tell me what I'm missing here.

One of the more thoughtful skeptics replied in part,

Since it's apparently not moral freedom itself that gives beings intrinsic value, what was God's moral imperative to create morally free beings?

I thought that deserved a reply and so I answered,

Great question. I'd say that confusion here arises from thinking that unrestricted moral freedom must be perpetual to give beings intrinsic value. My position is that great moral latitude is initially (i.e., here and now) necessary for us to decide what it is we really want, specifically whether we want to spend eternity with a holy God. In other words, an eternal friendship with God freely chosen may be morally preferable to one which has been simply imposed upon me. On this view the wedding of the Lamb and his bride is not the result of an arranged marriage.

It is only after I have decided over the course of a lifetime that I only want to taste the fruit of life, not of both good and evil, that moral freedom becomes much more restricted in scope. In the kingdom of heaven I will still be free to love others, to bless and honor God, and to forever discover God's greatness and the glory of his kingdom. I will not be free to do evil. But right now I am acutely aware that evil only causes suffering anyway, so why should I want to retain the power to commit it?

In a very real and very sobering way, we have been granted freedom by God to choose our eternal destiny. We get what we want. But even on earth this powerful liberty to do with salvation as we will has an expiration date, known only to God. Every day we resist the gracious conviction and pleading of the Holy Spirit we run the danger of death, of missing the imminent return of Jesus Christ, and perhaps most frightening of all, of our own hearts becoming irreversibly hardened to the truth of the gospel. God loves you and wants to receive you into the glory of his eternal kingdom. Believe it.

"For He says: 'In an acceptable time I have heard you, and in the day of salvation I have helped you.' Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation" (2 Cor. 6:2).

Little Things for a Larger Audience

Something thoroughly unspectacular happened in my office's break room the other day. There alone and ready to return to work, I tossed a straw over toward the trash bin. It missed. I shrugged and started toward the door, but hesitated when I thought about the janitors whose job it is to clean up after us every day. They probably struggle just as I do to keep up with their work, I thought, so why not stoop down, pick it up and throw it away myself? I did so, and as I did, felt a sense of being momentarily flushed with the presence of God's Spirit. That gave me pause. Could it be that God is acutely interested in the actions we take when no one is looking and nothing monumental is at stake?

Years ago, I preached a sermon about "little things" from Genesis 23, the little things being the actions and attitudes of Abraham while arranging for the burial of his wife Sarah. In that less-than-thrilling story Abraham showed himself to be faithful to God and his wife, humble in his dealings with others, and generous to a fault. Yet he was doing nothing spectactular or noteworthy. To the contrary he was busy with the depressing, mundane tasks associated with burying the love of his life. There were no crowds watching, no heroic exploits being performed. But this sort of difficult, dreary and lonely setting  is just where we should expect character to be tested most powerfully.

Character defines who we really are, which is best discovered in the secret places and the predictable, unexciting drudgery that makes up so much of our daily experience. It would be a mistake, however, to think that strictly no one is watching us during such times. "The eye of the Lord is in every place," says the Scripture, "keeping watch on the evil and the good" (Prov. 15:3). Indeed, God watches our behavior most interestedly, and seems to take paticular pleasure in acts performed for his eyes only. Again and again Jesus declared that the greatest eternal rewards are found by those who reject the plaudits and praises of men, instead serving the Lord's purposes for his own sake: "And your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you openly" (Matt. 6:4, 6, 18). This should be an encouragement for anyone who really wants his work to count, for our God is far and away the largest audience of all.

Tribute to a Man of God

My brother in-law, brother in Christ, and friend Barry Parker passed away unexpectedly this last weekend, between Christmas and the New Year. I am writing this brief tribute because to me Barry was not a typical Christian, but a genuine standout.  

Upon the passing of some men, we have to search around a bit for good things to say. Not so with Barry. He lived* an exemplary life of Christian sacrifice and service, so that words of commendation come easy. Barry did not merely pass away; he left a priceless gift to those who knew him in the example he set for us. 

What made Barry such a remarkable character? Exactly that: His character. He served his country in the military, served the sick in the medical industry, and then served his church as a pastor, foreign missionary, and evangelist. More importantly, he served his immediate family with an example of leadership that some men can only hope to emulate. (To know his wife and children is to know this to be true; to various degrees and in various ways they reflect his influence.) Most importantly of all, he served God with all his heart. Indeed, because of that love for God serving in general seemed to come naturally and joyfully to Barry. Two days before his passing, he tweeted this message: “How you love those who do not love you back and give to those who have nothing to give in return is the truest reflection of your character.”  

Now, all of this is not to say that Barry was syrupy-sweet (and he would be the first to acknowledge his own sinfulness). To the contrary, he held to some serious “old school” convictions that gave him a somewhat gruff veneer. And he was no stranger to conflict or controversy. (He and I certainly did not agree about everything!) But like the proverbial “teddy bear,” his gruffness very thinly overlaid a warmth and compassion for others that clearly ran deep. If that didn’t win you over, the highly animated sense of humor did. I could go on, but the description so far has left me with an impression that speaks most highly of the man: Despite the inescapable flaws of his humanity, Barry reminded me just a little bit of Jesus.

 

*I hesitate to speak of Barry in the past tense, for I am confident that he is alive even as I write, but will do so for the sake of clarity and convention.