Everyone experiences suffering. Yet when you believe in an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving God, these experiences can feel even worse. How can we trust in God's goodness when we experience suffering?
Everyone—Christian or not—experiences suffering of some kind. Yet when you believe in an all-powerful, all-knowing, and all-loving God, these experiences can, paradoxically, feel even worse.
How can we trust in God's goodness when we experience suffering, endure natural disasters, wrestle with the intellectual problem of evil, or even get crushed by the inhumanity of oppressive systems?
When the pain is personal, we shy away from pat answers, theological truisms, and well-meaning advice. Instead, we find ourselves in a disruptive, disorienting search for meaning amidst the madness.
To honestly embrace the complexity of suffering while remaining anchored in God's goodness, learning to practice lament, presence, and hope as we are formed to be like Christ.
My friend asked if I would pray for him with two other campus ministry staff. Of course, I agreed. He had terminal cancer; it was hard for us to contemplate him leaving behind his wife and young children.
So the four of us went into a small conference room and prayed our hearts out for God to heal. We begged, we pleaded, we quoted the Scriptures, we prayed in faith, we prayed in weakness and doubt, and we prayed every way there was to pray about a terminal cancer diagnosis.
And a few months later, he went to be with Jesus.
Why would a good God allow this? What possible purpose does it serve?
The highly regarded philosopher Marilyn McCord Adams takes this question to another level in her treatise Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God. In it, she forces us to pay attention to the worst kinds of suffering, the ones that thoroughly dehumanize an individual. This is the kind of damage where it becomes exceedingly difficult to contemplate any way God could allow someone to experience such torment.
Is our faith strong enough to face the horror experienced by a young child, repeatedly abused, then murdered—their life dominated by fear, pain, and cruelty—or is there a kind of suffering so great that we cannot sustain any confidence that God is good?
As Christians, our life is anchored in the conviction that God is good. It's not wishful thinking, but the consistent testimony of Scripture. Yet as we meditate on the goodness of God and keep our hearts open to the cries of those who suffer, the paradox can deepen.
**First, God is essentially good.** Repeatedly, he's revealed to us that he is loving, just, merciful, and faithful. He's not good when it suits him; it's who he is. As John tells us, "This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light, and there is absolutely no darkness in him" (1 John 1:5).
**Second, God is good in everything he does.** From Creation to Redemption to the ultimate Restoration of all things, all of God's actions reflect God's goodness. Psalm 145:9 teaches, "The LORD is good to everyone; his compassion rests on all he has made."
**Third, God is good as the Ruler of all Creation.** As philosophers might put it, God is not only all-good but also all-knowing and all-powerful. The Apostle Paul explains, "We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).
**Finally, God is good in his presence with us.** To avoid feeling the pain, I'm often tempted to intellectualize this paradox. But God intentionally walks with us, even in the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23). In his Incarnation, Jesus wept with those who grieved (John 11:28-37). His compassion extended to the agonies and humiliations of the cross, giving his life to us in the supreme act of self-giving love. God's goodness is not an idea but an experience: "Taste and see that the LORD is good" (Psalm 34:8).
If we were unfamiliar with the Bible, we might suspect a religion dedicated to the worship of a completely good God might sugarcoat suffering.
Yet God also reveals that his own Creation is drenched with evil, suffering, and pain.
**Suffering is pervasive.** To read through the Bible is to encounter shocking stories. If you have the stomach for it, read Judges 19. From the betrayal of Adam and Eve to the betrayal of Judas, from the murder of Abel to Herod's massacre of children, and from the sufferings of Job to the trials of Paul, the Bible depicts pain on every page.
**Suffering is painful.** Especially in the Psalms, the Scriptures create space for lament, confusion, anger, doubt, and even despair. The prophets weep and wail as they confront stubborn injustice, persistent unbelief, and the unmet needs of the oppressed. Jesus himself cried out, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?"
**Suffering is confusing.** Consider how Habakkuk opens his letter: "How long, LORD, must I call for help and you do not listen or cry out to you about violence and you do not save? Why do you force me to look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrongdoing?" (Habakkuk 1:2-3a). If even God's prophets were confused by God's inaction, then surely it is legitimate for us to ask our questions, too.
**Suffering continues.** We might hope that after the resurrection of Jesus or the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, we might see God remove suffering from his people. Why would he die for us and then allow us to endure the atrocities of persecution, famine, or war?
So what should we conclude? The famous skeptic Bertrand Russell once said, "No one can sit at the bedside of a dying child and still believe in God." Or is it wiser to affirm, as one person responded on a message board, "I don't think I could sit beside a dying child and not believe in God"?
One further challenge confronts us, what I call "the evil of evil." Imagine taking a trip to see the Louvre in Paris, but the day before your visit, the Mona Lisa is disfigured by a vandal. The knife cuts shred the portrait, and photos of the tattered canvas hit the front page of every newspaper.
Art historians, social critics, political pundits, and even podcasters may comment on the tragedy, but can any of them provide a sufficient explanation? Even after the psychological profile is released, the court case is resolved, the offender is jailed, and the documentaries are binge-watched, will we have a satisfactory resolution?
No. At its core, evil is senseless. It does not make sense. Why? Because evil is an intruder into God's good world. Evil should not be here: wherever it shows up in the story, the plot is broken.
Imagine Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego as they walked through Nebuchadnezzar's furnace. They'd just witnessed the raging flames kill the soldiers who threw them to their deaths. Yet as they walked around, to their astonishment, they found a fourth man with them in the fire, and they experienced no harm (see Daniel 3).
How else can we navigate this paradox, but in the presence of our crucified Savior? When I read the atrocities of American chattel slavery, unflinching reporting from genocides, or charitable appeals for the victims of famine, I don't know where else to turn.
If it were not for the cross, and God's willingness to die on our behalf, then this tension would seem unmanageable. Whatever mysteries or questions we cannot resolve, we can always direct our attention to Jesus, who willingly broke the curse of evil at the cost of experiencing it. We can only cover our mouths in wonder that a good God lovingly chose to bear the sin of the world.
In a culture that demands optimism, it's possible that lament is one of the most unappreciated, inexplicable, and foreign practices available to us.
Yet it is perhaps the most dominant of all the Biblical responses to suffering! Nearly the entire book of Job immerses us in Job's grief and anger, even as his so-called friends chastise him as a sinner. One cannot read the Psalms without concluding that the Bible validates the authenticity of bringing our raw pain before God.
Lament isn't faithlessness, but faith amidst suffering. When evil questions God's reality, lament responds with a conviction that God is near to us, cares about us, and can be trusted with anything—even our unrelenting anguish.
Just as the Incarnation represents God's ultimate response to human suffering, our best response to suffering is to show up.
Yes, God does provide us with heavy-hitting theological explanations, but all of our theology begins in the worship of Jesus. So how do we handle our times of need? We remember that "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses" (Hebrews 4:14-16). Knowing that Jesus experienced the fullness of human life gives us the courage to ask him to be with us in our trials.
It's fascinating that the gospels record the specific name of the man compelled to help Jesus carry his cross: Simon of Cyrene. His story is recorded to inspire us to imitate his example. God is at work in, among, through, and around us, that we might "weep with those who weep" (Romans 12:15). As we love one another, we participate in God's antidote to evil.
Though we cannot escape this paradox—each of our lives will end in death—that does not mean suffering has the final word! Just as we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, we hope in our future resurrection. God has promised us that he "will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4).
Consider the unspeakable agonies of a woman giving birth. While modern medicine has (thankfully) provided pain relief, what motivates anyone to become pregnant for most of a year, and then endure labor? The fierce hope of future joy.
We live in the "already but not yet" of God's kingdom. At times, we see miracles that remind us that God is still at work. In other seasons, we trust that his work will be completed one day soon.
Now a man was sick, Lazarus from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha... When Jesus saw her crying, and the Jews who had come with her crying, he was deeply moved in his spirit and troubled. "Where have you put him?" he asked. "Lord," they told him, "come and see." Jesus wept. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" But some of them said, "Couldn't he who opened the blind man's eyes also have kept this man from dying?" Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb...
How does this story demonstrate the goodness of God?
How does this story illustrate the stench of evil?
How does it show the diversity of human responses to the extremes of human life?
God.
…
What can I say to you?
Finding words…
For the unspeakable…
Feels like a sacrilege.
Be with me, weep with me, help me.
Amen.
We will discuss John 11:1-53 together.
How have you wrestled with this paradox?
What are some of the unhelpful ways we might discuss the goodness of God and the heartbreak of suffering?
How have you experienced the goodness of God in the midst of pain?
How have you wrestled with this paradox?
What are some of the unhelpful ways we might discuss the goodness of God and the heartbreak of suffering?
How have you experienced the goodness of God in the midst of pain?
If you are in the midst of the storm, who can you reach out to for help?
If you are on solid ground, who can you reach out to in friendship?
Holy Spirit, show me where I've tried to avoid this paradox through easy answers or spiritual bypassing. Deepen my capacity to trust your goodness even as I face the horrors of our broken world. Make me like Jesus, who wept with those who wept, and gave his life to end evil.
Start or update your 'rule of life.' How will you participate in God's plan to bring redemption to our world?
Consider how your church community acknowledges suffering. Is God leading you to start or support a ministry to those who are hurting?
Consider these suggestions for engaging with this paradox in a hands-on way: - Create art that provides space for people to grapple with their grief - Spend time with a friend who needs support - Make a donation to a cause close to your heart
Do you want to share this goal with the group for accountability?
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