REFLECTIONS: Why, God?

Ernie Ward was describing to me an article he had read recently in the Memphis Commercial Appeal where a columnist asked the question post-tsunami - "Why, God?" It sparked an interesting conversation on an ancient theme dating back to as ancient a source as the book of Job - Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people?

To ask the question presumes a couple of things. First, it presumes that whatever answer we might receive we would be capable of understanding. Second, it presumes that there is reason and purpose, perhaps even design behind human suffering. To ask the question, "Why" is to seek an underlying structure or interconnectedness that isn't readily apparent.

Some of the "design" theology of suffering comes naturally to Christians. We read about it in scripture. Why did God rain down fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah? Scripture tells us that it was as a punishment for the extreme wickedness of these two cities. (Gen. 18:20-21, 19:29) Why was the blind man in John 9 born blind? Jesus says that it wasn't because of anything he or his parents did (thus refuting an assumption of his disciples that bad things must be the result of previous evil actions) but "this happened that the work of God might be displayed in his life."

The writer of Hebrews 12 comments that hardship experienced could be an act of God's "disciplining" us as his followers - "for," the author notes, "what son is not disciplined by his father?" (Hebrews 12:7, NIV). The idea that persecution faced by the early Christians might be viewed as God's disciplining rather than simply the result of earthly power or even randomness was intended to be encouraging! (Heb 12:5)

And then there is Job. Philosophizing with three friends as he sits in sackcloth and ashes, Job despairs and cries out, "Oh, that I had someone to hear me! I sign now my defense - let the Almighty answer me; let my accuser put his indictment in writing," virtually challenging God to answer for Job's suffering. To which God replies out of the whirlwind in Job 38:2, "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge. Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you will answer me." And then God gives his famous reply in verse 4, "Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand."

None of this makes for comforting pastoral counseling scripture and none of this satisfies the human urge to find meaning in the design or structure of our suffering. None of this would or should be viewed as an adequate response - by itself - to tsunami victims, victims of the Holocaust, cancer patients, people dying of AIDS, women who have suffered rape - anyone who has ever experienced being radically violated by forces out of one's control.

There is something about the Job passage though that strikes a chord if you allow yourself to "sit with it" for a bit. It's the mystery. The unanswerability of the question that makes the most "sense." After all, "who am I" to understand life in all of its complexities and intricate detail. And yet, life's complexities and intricate detail and inner-workings often result in pain and suffering for human beings - pain and suffering to which we believe there can be spoken, indeed there MUST be spoken some good news.

In his book, The Crucified God, German theologian Jurgen Moltmann, retells the story of Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel as told in Wiesel's Night Trilogy. Wiesel wrote of a work crew in a Jewish concentration camp coming back coming back from their daily detail only to witness the hangman's gallows with a young boy hanging at the end of the noose - having been executed for some petty crime. As the crowd looks on in stunned silence, someone whispered so that others could hear, "Where is God?" The reply came from elsewhere in the crowd, "There he is. He is hanging in the gallows." Moltmann observed that at the heart of Christian theology is the idea that in human suffering and persecution human beings do not stand alone, but have alongside us a God who has experienced with us the hardship of crucifixion, rejection, humiliation, and radical violation of person. This, God has done in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

It's a mystery, to be sure. We cannot really know if human suffering fulfills some "divine plan." We won't know until we see "face to face" (1 Corinthians 13:12) We can't hope to comprehend, really, how it is that the creator of the universe stands alongside us in our suffering. But it brings comfort nevertheless to know that God is with us in ALL of our suffering and despair. He is with us "hanging in the gallows" as we experience anxiety, separation, and the death of loved ones.

We find comfort, not in comprehending the design of suffering (which there may not be), but rather in acknowledging its mystery or unknowability - that somehow, some way, the work of God continues after the disaster - after the violation. And that work is the work of love and mercy and forgiveness and salvation for all of creation. Perhaps, that is the divine plan. Suffering as an end in itself is pointless. Suffering that ultimately leads to love and deep community can be (with God's help) redemptive.

With God, the story doesn't end with the suffering. There is always another chapter to be told. And that's the chapter of hope.