Evil is Always Problematic: Part 2
In my last post, we began to consider the Problem of Evil, it’s history, and how we can’t escape its reach.
Today, I want to unpack a way forward.
If you read about the various attempts to reconcile the Problem of Evil, you’ll observe that people typically take one of two paths—the “free will defense” or the “greater good defense.”
We Can’t be Robots
The logic of the free will defense is that God created beings with free will so that they could enjoy an authentic relationship with Him.
This makes sense to us.
We might be able to have a conversation with Siri, but a real relationship is impossible.
We’re not robots, but we’re also not ants in the sandbox.
God doesn’t seem to regard us as animals who may have feelings and emotions but otherwise can’t relate to Him. Humans and angels were created to relate to God—which is to say we have the capacity to love Him.
But, in order for love to be authentic, it has to be a choice. So, the free will defense suggests that God gave us free will so that we could enjoy loving him—if we chose to do so.
As time unfolded, some chose to abuse or choose against this love, including Satan, and that’s why the world is in turmoil.
Again, we ask, wasn’t there another way?
The Best of All Possibilities
Others, on the other hand, argue for a greater good defense.
Here, the logic is that God knows what’s best and that this course of events somehow results in the best outcome.
We may hear this on a small scale: “This tragedy occurred so that this good thing would then happen.”
I invite you to consider the plot from the movie, Avengers Endgame.
In the movie, Dr. Strange sees millions of possible sequences of the future, and is able to discern the path forward that allows the team to be victorious—even though in that one path, they would have to experience some degree of loss.
Again, we ask, wasn’t there another way?
A Way Forward
For what it’s worth, I think both approaches have merits.
They both have some elements of truth.
God, for sure, gives us agency and expects us to worship him freely, and holds us accountable when we choose to worship other things.
At the same time, Scripture is not shy about God softening and hardening hearts, giving some the gift of faith and not others. He is also the God who brings rain, to water the fields and also to flood them. He raises nations to prominence to bring about His purposes and likewise tears them down in their wickedness.
We see this in the paramount declaration of Joseph near the end of Genesis.
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.
“God meant it …” Let that sink in.
The “it” is the evil mentioned in the earlier clause.
Once again, there’s nothing neat and tidy about this conversation.
In both the free will and greater good frameworks, God is making the call. He’s deciding what’s best in a way that we can’t fully understand.
And we want to demand of Him, “No! You should be able to find a way that accomplishes all you want and avoid evil altogether!”
In all of this, we’re pressed with the question: Do we trust this God?
And it’s here in the dilemma where we find shepherding care.
Reframing the Conversation
Charitably, both the free will defense and the greater good defense are exercises in hopeful speculation.
They are well intended. They are well-reasoned.
If they bring you some comfort, I won’t stop you. But I want you to keep going. If you need time, if you need patience to “be okay” with God, I get that.
But I want you to see an increasing view of God’s majesty.
I’m burdened that we abuse this thought exercise—that we make it a thought exercise at all, as if we can deal with it from a protective bubble.
I don’t want these “solutions” to block where your eyes are supposed to be fixed.
There’s no such thing as a silver bullet answer to WHY the problem of evil—the Bible barely only whispers here.
But where does the Bible shout?
. . .
It shouts the name Jesus.
Let’s try an exercise together:
I want you to compartmentalize your mind for one second. Set the Problem of Evil off to the side for one minute.
And instead, consider the cross.
Did the cross happen?
Do you believe that in your core?
Has the cross changed your life in a way that you can’t fully explain, but you’ve bet your life on it?
If it has, is God trustworthy with everything else?
Is He trustworthy with this mystery that doesn’t seem to make sense?
Our problem is that, too often, we set the cross to the side when we have this conversation.
We operate as if it’s of secondary importance or logical consequence.
We put God on the judgment seat, forgetting that the cross is right there staring at each of us.
We don’t know how, and we don’t get to read the owner’s manual or see the code behind the scenes, but God is sufficiently dealing with evil. He has done so on the cross.
I’m not saying we throw up our hands and say, “Oh well! I’m glad I don’t have to think about that anymore.”
Instead, I’m suggesting we recalibrate how pursue the conversation.
When we wrestle with the problem of evil, we’re ultimately wrestling with the substance and the efficacy and the power of the cross.
Is it the greatest good in the universe or not?
Is it merely a domino in the framework of Christianity, or is it Christianity itself?
Is it an appetizer or is it the main event?
Do we believe it makes right everything that went wrong?
Whatever evil is, do we believe that the cross somehow brings total healing?
The echo of the whole Bible is that this world is not as it should be, suffering is real, and in Christ there is comfort for now and hope for tomorrow—hope for forever.
Evil will be destroyed. And its defeat is radiating from the cross.
Whatever evil is, whatever goodness is, we see a maximal amount of both at the cross as God himself stepped into this world and subjected himself to total evil as its conqueror.
Jesus is not the appetizer. He is the main event.
But we still live in the thick of life. And rather than callously rebuke us for our shortsightedness, God works in anguish throughout the New Testament to help us re-center on Jesus as our means of hope—of walking through the mud of the world.
1 Peter 4:19.
Therefore let those who suffer according to God’s will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good.
Philippians 4:5-7.
The Lord is at hand; 6 do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
God gives peace that we cannot comprehend—it’s from the Supreme of the Universe. He is a God of miracles, and just as He gives the supernatural gift of faith, so does He give the supernatural gift of peace.
But also, He gives peace for that which we cannot comprehend. We can’t out-think God, and we can’t demand that He make it all make sense.
So in the darkness, in the mystery, He calms the unrest of our minds. He allows us to trust.
Just like Jacob, I encourage you to wrestle with God.
Don’t turn off your brains. But also, don’t disconnect your brain from your heart. Worship him authentically.
Let’s go back to Job.
The bulk of the ancient book is Hebrew poetry in which the reader is invited to consider God's ways, the sufferings of this world, and how everything is supposed to fit together.
By the end, Job is really having a hard time. He questions God with a raised fist, and God lovingly corrects Him.
God gives Job a vision to see the majesty of the universe and the expanse of God’s point of view. As an act of love, God humbles Job.
Then, God restores Job.
He blesses him once again.
He has a new family and a new life.
Now, it’s important for us to see that God did not reward Job for suffering well.
Once the narrative runs out, this new family would become sick like the rest of us, or suffer calamity, and die like everyone does. And those would be equally as tragic, because the world is still not the way it’s supposed to be.
But in the twilight of the book, Job was able to live with an even greater sense of sobriety. God provided context.
In his later days, Job walked with a weightiness and appreciation for the finite limits of his world and his understanding of it.
He was able to live with a greater sense of God’s majesty.
For you and me, we get Jesus. And in the radiating brilliance of the cross, we see majesty on full display.
How do you help someone who is in the thick of suffering?
You don’t attempt to give them an explanation.
You give them the healing power of Jesus.
They don’t need clarity. They don’t need answers.
They need a promise that won’t fail. They need Christ.