The Problem of Evil
(the following is a modified repost from the old blog, originally dated 08/19/2009
In the ongoing responsibilities of a minister, I deal with life and death often. In fact, it’s not unusual to address both ends of life’s continuum within the same day. Sometimes (thankfully rarely), it happens within the same family on the same day. As such, we ministers often become steeled to the loss of life even as we welcome precious new lives into the world. Even so, the reality of death is difficult to reconcile, particularly when death event is unexpected or tragic.
You see, I operate from a worldview that God is sovereign. He knows the end from the beginning. He alone knows when life will end, and under what circumstances it will come to a close. I believe that this foreknowledge is true for every person, everywhere, throughout history. And as a minister, I have the privilege of getting to see details of people’s lives that sometimes might otherwise be hidden, but that reveal an “ah!” understanding of why a person dies. For example, I might learn that a person who was by all appearances upstanding actually had a hidden life of alcoholism or addiction that explains a surprising terminal sickness or disease. When that happens, knowing these things helps bring understanding or reconciliation to the graceless event we call death.
However, once in a while, we find no such hidden explanations. Every day, “good” people die. Cars that normally follow the laws and patterns of traffic unexpectedly swerve headlong into the opposing lane. Cancer strikes a person who is young, healthy, and full of promise. A person makes an unthinkable decision to end their own life, without offering adequate explanation of how or why that decision was determined (as if any explanation would be satisfactory). So, without any clues that help make sense out of the senseless loss of a life cut tragically short, we find ourselves in a Jacob-ian wrestling match with our own faith.
The ramifications of these types of death wakes me when I should be sleeping soundly. I pray and pray for the families left behind, asking God to give them the rest they need to have the strength to face each new day. And even as I do that, I find myself angry at the reality of evil that is in this world. We call it “sin,” for that’s what God calls it. But it is evil. It is the reality that our world is terminally sin-sick and that death is yet another gut-wrenching, insomnia-inducing symptomatic manifestation of this plight. It is because of evil that good people die unexpectedly, causing mourning and uncertainty and sorrow and concern.
A rationalist will simply say that life and death are mere biological functions and any consternation over the details is unnecessary romanticism. While this might give some relief to the skeptic, any person of faith realizes that life and death are so much more than chemical processes resulting from eons of chance, change, and survival of the fittest. The Bible declares that we are fearfully and wonderfully made in the eternal image of our Creator. God has determined that every life is precious, worth the redemption cost of his own son, Jesus. And for the person whose faith is in Jesus, life offers the promised fulfillment of that redemption with a reunion in heaven with God, forever.
Ultimately, it is this expectation that God does and will keep his promises regarding heaven that give the mourner the ability to have hope that overcomes evil. It is the flame of faith that may flicker in the gale winds of a trial, but is not extinguished because its source is the God of truth, holiness, and love. This is no pastoral platitude designed to help sorrow-filled, grief-stricken, loved ones find their slumber at night. This is the deeply-established harbor upon which our lives our tethered as the hurricane of grief passes over us. We, like all people, are shaken by evil, but because of the grace of God shown in the victory of Christ, we are not undone by it.
It is impossible to have answers to questions that were never promised to be revealed on this side of eternity. Why? What if? The inability to answer these questions leads some to depression, and others to her twin sibling anger. Releasing these imponderables to God doesn’t mean letting go, giving up, or not caring. It just means that whatever the situation, I will trust God.
The Bible says that faith is the substantiation of things that I expect based upon evidence that cannot be seen. And while my faith is based on things I cannot see, it is also based solidly and consistently upon things I have experienced. I have experienced God’s grace. I have experienced God’s goodness. I have experienced God’s faithfulness. I have experienced God’s compassion. I have experienced God’s trustworthiness. And God has never…ever…let me down. So by faith, I expect that he will substantiate (or make real) my expectation that he will continue to show goodness, faithfulness, compassion, and trustworthiness to me…and more importantly to the families who mourn because God loves them all with a perfect love.
Every day, good people die. And despite their goodness (as we perceive it), life still comes to a close before anyone around them is ready. In this, I see that our goodness is not quantified in the amount of good we do, but it is qualified in the identity we have in God through faith in Christ. I hope that my life and your life will be testimonies that remains untainted by the reality of evil in this world and are one day worthy of celebration because of the attention that death brings to the God who gives life its meaning and purpose.
