The Mystery of Intercession

Frequently I am asked to pray for those with illnesses or personal (or family) troubles, and I count it a privilege to do so. But, I also must admit to being a bit conflicted about the nature of such prayers. Often the one requesting prayer is quite specific: “Pray that [name] might be completely healed from his [affliction],” or “Pray that the results of the test for [disease] might be negative,” or something similar. These requests reflect very real and very appropriate human concern for those we love and are quite honorable for precisely that reason. But, are they fully proper in a theological sense? That is my dilemma and the nature of my conflict: For what should I pray?

Part of my conflict is personal. I have a dear friend who, for some time, has experienced severe and debilitating pain. On one level I want to pray – and have repeatedly done so – that God might relieve his suffering and restore him to a healthy and normal life. For over one year, that did not happen. Instead, I have watched his suffering become a vehicle of grace, producing maturity, humility, patience – so many of the fruits of the Spirit – in his life. He is not now the person he was or the person he might have been but for the illness. Was the illness from God? How would I know? Was the illness used by God for his good purposes and for welfare of my friend? That I do know: yes, certainly. So what of my prayers for relief and healing – all well-intended, all offered in love and compassion? God, in his wisdom, knew better. God answered not the prayer I offered, but the prayer I would have offered had I but known his mind and his purpose. As another friend reminds me, God has four answers to prayer: Yes, no, not yet, and I have something better in mind. A bit more poetically, God speaks through Isaiah:

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

So, what am I to do when asked to pray for relief or healing or other specific intent, knowing not the particular thoughts and ways of God in the matter? The answer depends, in large part I think, on our understanding of the purpose of prayer. If the purpose of prayer is to advise God on the proper course of action or to persuade God that my will should be done on earth, it matters very much that I “get it right,” that I know precisely what to pray for. But certainly, this understanding of prayer is a misunderstanding of prayer. If, instead, the purpose of prayer is to enter into the pain of a brother or sister and to carry that pain to the mercy seat of the throne of God, to take up not only my brother or sister’s cross but the cross of Christ who bore all our pain on his cross, then it matters little that I “get it right.” What matters is that I pray, that I commend my brother or sister to God’s care, that I, in my prayer, come alongside another and walk with the other in company with Christ, led by the Holy Spirit, unto the throne of God. Let God “get it right;” my privilege is simply to pray, and to pray as I can, in my ignorance, but in my trust in God’s merciful wisdom. My forebears have thought more and better about all this than I ever will, and I treasure their Godly wisdom as preserved in the following collect from the Book of Common Prayer.

For a Sick Person
O Father of mercies and God of all comfort, our only help in time of need: We humbly beseech thee to behold, visit, and relieve thy sick servant N. for whom our prayers are desired. Look upon him with the eyes of thy mercy; comfort him with a sense of thy goodness; preserve him from the temptations of the enemy; and give him patience under his affliction. In thy good time, restore him to health, and enable him to lead the residue of his life in thy fear, and to thy glory; and grant that he may dwell with thee in life everlasting; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Amen, indeed.

Catholic Stew

I receive a daily email message from the Society of St. John the Evangelist, a monastic community of the Episcopal Church. I generally find these messages -- excepts from sermons preached by the brothers -- quite helpful. But, occasionally one leaves me scratching my head, not quite certain. The snippet for 22 August 2013 reads:

God’s vision is expansive. God’s loving-kindness is expansive. The net is cast wide to catch fish of every kind. We come to celebrate God’s infinitely expansive catholicity, the wide-reaching embrace of his love. It’s a mystery! And, here we all are, in the midst of this most savory, this most delectable stew.

Well, yes. And no. I've been fishing enough to know that some fish are quite unsavory, some are quite dangerous, and some are poisonous. I began to wonder what the sermon from which this was excerpted was all about. If you would like to read it in its entirety, it may be found at Catholic Stew. Some aspects of this sermon should wave caution flags, I think.

There seems to be a shift away from thinking of church as having to do mainly with individual salvation and toward seeing the church as agent of global transformation. Transformation of the economy, transformation of political systems, transformation of the environment. Even evangelicals appear to be moving in this direction in their very recent engaging of ecological concerns. The church is embracing a global, comprehensive perspective, which is to say, a catholic perspective.

Well, yes. And no. The Gospel is certainly broader than individual salvation. It is true to say that "Jesus died for your sins," but it is not quite the Truth. The truth is that Jesus died for the sins and restoration of the cosmos: "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." But, because that is the truth, it is therefore true that Jesus died for your sins. Take the whole and get the part for free. So while it is the truth that the church -- actually the Holy Spirit acting in and through the Church -- is an agent of global transformation, it is also true that such large scale endeavor begins with individuals being baptized into Christ, having their individual sins forgiven, and being indwelt and empowered by the Holy Spirit. There is danger in focusing too intently on either end of the spectrum: individual salvation to the exclusion of global/cosmic restoration or social activism to the exclusion of personal salvation. Perhaps this is what our brother meant in his sermon.

We see this impulse alive and well in the energy for ecumenical and interfaith relations. Although it’s hard to see how Christian truth claims can be reconciled with those of other world religions, there is, generally speaking, a curiosity about “the other”, a growing generosity of spirit toward those who understand God differently, a growing willingness to engage in conversation. A growing desire to collaborate in works of justice and compassion. A growing concern for the whole.

What does this mean, "a growing generosity of spirit toward those who understand God differently"? Is Islam, for example, a different understanding of God, or do Muslims worship a different God than do Christians? I do believe that many devout Muslims would be incensed if we insisted that Allah is simply another name for Father, Son, and Holy Spirit -- a different understanding of the same God, if you please. Quite to the contrary: a devout Muslim will insist vehemently that God is one, to the exclusion of Son and Spirit. Jesus is a prophet, yes, but he is not and was not God. Muslims understand that we do not understand God differently, but in fact worship different gods. William Willimon was correct when he said that a Christian has not said God until he has said Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Anything else is not merely a different understanding, but a different god. I do agree with our brother that "a growing generosity of spirit...a growing willingness to engage in coversation...[and] a growing desire to collaborate in works of justice and compassion" are important. But even this is problemmatic. Justice looks very different when comparing sh'ria law to Western democratic notions. And they both fail to bear much resemblance to the restorative justice -- the putting of things to right -- of the Gospel. Again, is this a different understanding of justice or a fundamentally different justice? If our concepts of justice and compassion are based upon the nature and person of the God we worship, then they will be as different as the gods we worship. "A growing concern for the whole" is important, but not at the expense of the part we believe to be most true.

Fish of every kind are being gathered in the church’s nets. And the parable reminds us that we don’t need to sort it out—angels will do that at the end of time. Our job is to be the bouillabaisse. And to realize and appreciate that the delightful complexity and subtlety of the stew depends on a wide variety of fish—fish like us, and fish not like us.

This sounds so darned nice on the face of it: keep 'em all, let God sort 'em out. So ... well, so non-judgmental. But, is it not, in reality, a failure to be discerning, a failure to say that while God accepts us all as we are, he leaves none of us in that sorry state? Is it not, in reality, a failure to proclaim the most basic message of the Gospel -- the message Jesus first proclaimed -- "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand"? Somewhere, there is a need for repentance, for realizing and saying that not all fish are savory, that some are dangerous or even poisonous. In fact, we probably need to say that all of us fish are unsavory, dangerous, and poisonous and in desperate need of the grace of God to transform us into the likeness of Christ. I'm not sure I hear that message clearly in our brother's sermon.

Egypt and the Beatitudes

Ruins of a Coptic Church Razed in Egypt's Protests

Sunday last, as our parish reflected upon the challenges and blessings of life in the Kingdom of God -- living as resident aliens amidst the rebellious earthly kingdoms (cf Ps. 2) -- as described in the Beatitudes (Mt 5:1-12), our rector pointed toward our Christian brothers and sisters in Egypt as examples of those persecuted for righteousness' sake -- reviled and persecuted and spoken evil of falsely. We joined with them in the solidarity of prayer and in the communion of saints at the Table of our Lord. And all this is good and right and our bounden duty. And yet.

This morning -- two days later -- a local newspaper featured a photograph of Egyptian Coptic Christians in Nashville, TN protesting the coup d'etat that ousted President Morsi. Both the photograph and article's headline were disturbing. The caption of the photograph read in part: "Egyptian Christians from Coptic Churches demonstrate Monday in Nashville to show their support of the Egyptian military and denounce violence against Christians." The most prominent sign held by any protestor read: WE SUPPORT EGYPTIAN MILITARY. The headline of the article declared: Egyptian Christians hold Nashville Protest.

 My mind returned to Sunday and to the Beatitudes. How, I wonder, does this response of Nashville's Coptic Christians fit with the Beatitudes?

Blessed are those who protest, for the loudest voice will be heard.

Blessed are those who support the military, for God's kingdom comes with tanks and bombs.

Blessed are those who look to the rulers of the earth to usher in the Kingdom, for the means of man accomplish the ends of God.

The truth of the matter -- the hard truth of the matter -- is that the Beatitudes paint a picture of life in the Kingdom of God -- here and now -- as a life salted with poverty of spirit (and the powerlessness that goes with it), sorrow, meekness (and not demonstrations), mercy, purity, peacemaking (not dependence on or support of the military and its violent means), persecution, and suffering. To the extent that the newspaper article and photograph reflect the reality in Egypt -- and not just in Nashville -- the actions of these our brothers and sisters seem bound up more in the politics of the world than of the Kingdom. And while it is right that we pray for an end to all persecution, while it is right that we show solidarity with our persecuted brothers and sisters through prayer, worship, and material support, we dare not accept their actions uncritically as representative of the ethics of the Kingdom. We all are, and must be, challenged by Christ's most basic message: "Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand."

Of course, I write all this from the safety of a land in which, for the moment, Christians are not violently persecuted based either upon faith or politics; what I write can be dismissed -- and perhaps justly so -- on just that basis. Were our churches being razed and my family being harmed, I can only pray that I would cling to the truth of Jesus' vision and to the hope of God's Kingdom already but not yet here. I pray, but I also wonder. Lord, have mercy upon our persecuted brothers and sisters and bring them peace. Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner.

Rule of Life

To my dear friends in the Stanford Group:

I thank you for sharing a part of your faith journey with me this summer; I hope that we may -- in whatever way you choose -- continue to walk together, not least by praying for one another.

In our last session I mentioned the benefits of developing a Rule of Life and I referenced a resource available through the Society of St. John the Evangelist.  Following is a link to that resource.

Rule of Life:  Framework for Freedom

I hope you will find it helpful.

Peace of Christ,

John

People Who Know My Heart

I have a Facebook account, but very few friends -- intentionally.  I am not antisocial; I just don't care for social networking technology.  I prefer to share coffee and conversation directly and not digitally.  But, recently, I posted some photos from a teaching mission to India with Capstone Bible Institute, and that brought me to the posts of my few friends.  And there it was -- a photo with the caption:

People who know my heart never have to question it.

If there is an answer to theodicy -- and the recent destruction of Moore, OK begs for one -- this must surely be it:

People who know my heart never have to question it.

Of course, we do question.  I remember driving home from work the day of the tornado, before it hit.  As I listened to the radio and heard the weather forecast for the region, I prayed that God might spare his creation and his people from loss of life and property, that he might have mercy on them and be gracious to them.  The next morning I learned of the destruction of much of the town and of the tornado's direct hit on two elementary schools.  Many questions...

People who know my heart never have to question it.

What I don't know, what I likely never will know this side -- or even that side -- of heaven, is why Moore, OK was devastated by the tornado in spite of the prayers of God's people and of his ability to spare the town.  But, when my questioning heart and mind have become still enough to listen, in myriad ways I perceive God saying, "You know my heart.  You never have to question my love."  And that is true.  Before the dark times come, we must learn the heart of God, so that in the dark times we never have to question it.

People who know my heart never have to question it.

Of course, this isn't truly an answer to theodicy.  Instead, it is the way through it and out the other side, just as the cross was the way through human sin, suffering, and death and out the other side to forgiveness, comfort, and life:  not an answer at all, but a solution.

People who know my heart never have to question it.

Amen.

Innocence

Innocence

Following is a post from Br. Curtis Almquist of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, a monastic community in the Anglican/Episcopal tradition.  I highly commend their website and daily reflections.

Posted: May 13, 2013 01:00 am

If Jesus, knowing you even better than you know yourself, were to say to you, “You are innocent,” could you take it in? This is not the adjudication of our innocence but rather the restoration of our innocence. Our being made innocent again by Christ.

-Br. Curtis Almquist
Society of Saint John the Evangelist

What a profound idea, that the declaration of our innocence by the Lord Jesus "is not the adjudication of our innocence but rather the restoration of our innocence."  The judge does not simply decree my innocence, with both of us knowing full well I am guilty as hell; rather, the judge, through his perfect identification with me and incorporation of me, makes me innocent, overcoming "original sin" with original innocence.  Of course, the working out of this innocence takes a lifetime; it is already true but not yet fully evident.  We struggle and pray and work to live into that innocence.

Baccalaureate Address

Following is the Baccalaureate Address I gave on 10 May 2013 for the graduating class of the high school at which I teach.
_________________________________________________________________

Good evening, Senior Class of 2013, parents, family and friends, and members of First Baptist Church.  It is a privilege and honor to address this senior class one final time before graduation, and especially to have been invited to do so by the senior class sponsors of the Baccalaureate service.  Thank you.

This evening, Seniors, I would like to tell you two stories:  one as ancient as time itself and one as modern as the next tick of the clock, as near as your next breath.  These two stories, though they may seem quite different and separate, come crashing together this evening in this place, at this moment.  And, their collision sends out ripples and waves of grace and hope and possibility throughout all space and time, and even beyond.  These stories are the common heritage of all men and women.  They are your parents’ stories.  They are my stories.  And, especially tonight, they become your stories – stories which illuminate your past and point the way forward into your future.  These stories are creation stories.

The first of the creation stories begins…well, in the beginning.  Perhaps you’ve heard it?

1 In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2 The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.

3 Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. 4 And God saw the light, that it was good; and God divided the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. So the evening and the morning were the first day.

6 Then God said, “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.” 7 Thus God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament; and it was so. 8 And God called the firmament Heaven. So the evening and the morning were the second day (Gen 1:1-8, NKJV).

And so the story goes, through the six days – the six epochs – of creation.  There is a refrain that runs throughout this creation story in one form or another:  Then God said, “Let there be.”  God speaks and worlds come into being:  heaven and earth; light and darkness; sun, moon, and stars; the sea and the dry land; herbs and grain, apples and asparagus; ostrich and trout; giraffe and cattle; and finally, as stewards of God’s creation, man and woman.  And at the end of the six days of creation God says, “It is good.”  How could it be otherwise?  From the depths of his being, from the depths of his goodness, God speaks, and his words, “Let it be,” bring forth goodness into the void.

Before God spoke, before his voice reverberated through the great mystery, all creation was already there, in the heart and mind of God.  God had a purpose for speaking creation into being and a direction he wished creation to follow.  We can know this purpose and this direction because the voice of God still echoes through creation.  If we listen carefully – with all our senses, all our reasoning, all our imagination – we can hear this echo of God’s voice of creation, this echo that reveals the heart and mind of God and that propels creation forward into God’s purpose.

“Listen” to the heavens – to the regularity and pattern of sun, moon, stars, and planets – to the echo of God’s voice singing the universe into being.  This echo tells us that God’s purpose for creation is order, not chaos.

“Listen” to the earth – to the sound of sowing and reaping.  The farmer plants a single seed and from it harvests a basketful of produce:  the echo of God’s voice once again and always saying, “Let there be.”  This echo tells us that God’s purpose for creation is abundance, not lack.

“Listen” to man.  He lies down at night and, for a few hours, ceases to be – the little, gentle death of sleep.  And yet, in the morning he stirs to life again, called into being by the echo of God’s voice of creation.  This echo tells us that God’s purpose for creation is life, not death.  Death never has the final word, for the echo of God’s voice is always and everywhere saying, “Let there be.”

God is not silent in his creation; the echo of his voice is everywhere present, filling all things.  The echo of his voice compels creation onward toward the purpose God established before the foundations of the world.

This is the first and ancient creation story, the beginning of all things.

Now, Seniors, I must have your help to tell the second creation story.  What I ask of you is simple.  I will count to three and then I want you to shout your first name, or the name by which you are called.  Shout it loudly; make the church ring with the sound of your names.  Let’s try it.

As good as that was, it is not nearly loud enough.  So, this time, I would like to ask your parents to help.  If you have a son or daughter in the class of 2013, would you please add your voice to theirs?  Again, I will count to three and then I want seniors and their parents to shout the first name of the senior student.

I think we can do better still.  If you are a relative or friend of a graduating senior, please add your voice this time; shout loudly the name of the senior you are here to celebrate this evening.

This is wonderful, but there is one voice yet missing – not really missing, but not quite represented yet:  the voice of God.  Seniors, some eighteen years ago for most of you, God once again said, “Let there be!” and called each of you by name.  This second creation story is your creation story.  The same God who spoke from the fullness of his heart and mind and called worlds into being, also spoke from the overflowing abundance of his heart and mind – spoke your name – and spoke you into being.  And his words must be heard again here this evening.  I am finished with counting.  This time, I will speak for God in his powerful words of creation, “Let there be.”  And seniors and parents, relatives and friends, you will shout a name – your name, your child’s name, your relative’s or friend’s name.  And as you shout, hear the voice of God and listen for its echo.

Seniors, you were on God’s mind, in God’s heart, before he laid the foundations of the world.  He spoke your name, he spoke you into being, because he knew that his grand creation would not be complete without you.  There is some unique grace that you bring to creation, a grace given you by God, a grace spoken into being when he called your name, a grace without which the creation is left wanting.  This is the second creation story, the story of your creation.

God had a purpose when he spoke you into being, a direction for you to follow when he called your name.  What is that purpose?  What is that direction?  I don’t know.  Your teachers don’t know.  Your parents don’t know.  Only God knows and only you can discover it.  And how can you discover it?  Only by a lifetime of patient and attentive listening for the echo of God’s voice reverberating within you, the echo of God calling you by name.  Others can help you to listen – parents, teachers, pastors, friends – but they cannot hear for you, and you dare not trust them to.  Some things you must do yourself, and this is one of them.

So, you must listen carefully – listen with all your senses, all your reasoning, all your imagination – if you wish to hear this echo of God’s voice of creation, this echo that reveals the heart and mind of God and that propels you forward into God’s purpose.

“Listen” to your desire, to your longing.  What fills you with holy and satisfying joy?  Perhaps it is art or music or poetry.  If so, know this:  that longing, that desire, that joy is the echo of God’s voice calling you to add to the beauty of God’s creation, to join with God in the creation of beauty.  And God knows the world needs more beauty.  As St. Paul writes in Philippians,

whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things (Phil 4:8, NKJV).

And, I might add, create these things.  God has called some of you into being for this.  Listen to your desire.  Listen to your longing.  You might just hear the echo of God’s voice that spoke you into being.

“Listen” to your gifts.  You are good at what you are good at for a reason:  fluency in languages, clarity in science, precision in mathematics, perception in history, strength and agility in sports, creativity in design, dexterity in construction.  There is no limit to the gifts we have been given, but only in our imagination to perceive them and in our willingness to recognize in them the echo of the voice of God urging us onward.  Listen to your gifts.  You might just hear the echo of God’s voice that spoke you into being.

“Listen” for the call to service and meaning.  Mother Teresa said, “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.”  This is the echo of the voice of God calling you to service.  Perhaps God has spoken you into being to become his agent of healing in a broken and wounded world:  doctors, nurses, medical technologists, psychologists, counselors, priests and pastors, aid workers – all those who bring the healing power of God to hurting bodies and minds and spirits.  Perhaps God has called you to business – not to amass a private fortune but to create a public trust, to earn and to give, to work and to provide work, to show that money and mercy are not opposites, that wealth and integrity can coexist.  Perhaps God has called you to politics, not to gain personal power but to answer the question, What would it look like if God were in charge here? and to live knowing he is.  Perhaps God has called you to the legal profession, to show that justice and judgment mean more than punishment, to show that the justice and judgment of God mean making thing right, mean making things whole, mean caring for the least and the weakest among us.  Listen for the call to service.  You just might hear in it the echo of the voice of God that spoke you into being.

“Listen” to your needs and to the needs of the world.  Listen for the empty places in your life, for the wounds, for the brokenness, for the ache.  No, these dark places are not the echo of the voice of God which called you into being.  But they just may be the echo of the voice of God calling you to bring light to the dark places of the world, to fill the empty places with the love of God, to bind up the wounds of the world, to take up the cross of Christ, to become one with the least and the lost among the brothers and sisters of our Lord.  They may just be the echo of God’s voice calling you to pour out your life for others, to become God’s answer to the prayer of St. Francis, a prayer which just may become your own:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.  Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope, where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.  Grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.  For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

“Listen” to your needs.  They just may be the echo of the voice of God calling you to bring light to the dark places of the world.

Listen, Seniors.  Listen for the echo of the voice of God that spoke you into being.  Listen for the echo of the voice of God that calls you forward into an unknown future and gives you the hope and light to make your way into it without fear.  Listen to the echo of the voice of God in your longing, in your desire, in your joy; in your unique gifts; in your call to meaning and service; in your need.  Listen for the echo of the voice of God in the words of your mentors – parents and teachers and pastors and wise elders.  Listen for the echo of God’s voice in the silence of prayer and in the words of Scripture.  Listen.  God is not silent and he never ceases to call your name as he did at your beginning.

We send you from this place to God knows where with this most holy task:  to listen for the echo of the voice of God who spoke you into being and who calls you onward.  And we send you forth from this place with our most holy blessing:

The Lord bless you and keep you.
The Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you.
The Lord lift the light of his countenance to you and give you peace.

And the blessing of God Almighty – the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit – be with you now and remain with you always.  Amen.



Baccalaureate Benediction

Almighty God, in Whom we live and move and have our being:
You spoke into being each of these young men and women seated here before You, and now You call them forth from this place to grow in knowledge and wisdom, in faith and understanding, in love and service.  We commend them – these priceless treasures you have given us for a time – to Your Fatherly keeping, knowing that You desire better things for them than we can ask or imagine.  Guide them in the ways of truth and righteousness.  Give Your holy angels charge over them to preserve them in peace, and let Your blessing be upon them always, through Jesus Christ our Lord, Who lives and reigns with You and with the Holy Spirit, now and for ever.  Amen.

The Will of God

How do we discern the will of God?  Sr. Joan Chittister offers this reflection in her commentary on the Rule of St. Benedict.

"The will of God for us is what remains of a situation after we try without stint and pray without ceasing to change it."

Why Do Bad Things Happen To Good People?

(I wrote the following reflection some few years ago.  The problem it addresses is recurrent, however, and each new episode requires us to revisit and rethink prior answers, particularly when we, or those we love, are affected.  Following the initial reflection, I will offer some additional, current thoughts.)  

Some questions contain hidden assumptions or fallacies that render them nonsense, impossible to answer meaningfully. What color is yesterday? makes a category mistake; so too When is a square? What meaning would any answer offer?

My region of the country – the south and southeast – recently has experienced devastating storms, costly in property and, most tragically, in lives as well. In this we are not alone; the Midwest has suffered and is suffering still. More than once in the aftermath of these storms I have heard the age-old question, Why do bad things happen to good people? More lament than query, likely no answer is required, just prayer and compassion and assistance. That is just as well. The question as posed allows for no meaningful answer. Hidden assumptions and fallacies lie in wait for the unwary.

First, there is the notion of “good people.” This is a Romantic idea and perhaps an Enlightenment one. But, it is not a biblical notion. When hailed as “Good Teacher” by an apparently honest seeker, Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone” (Mk 10:18, NRSV). Following this line of assessment, Paul writes:

‘There is no one who is righteous, not even one;
there is no one who has understanding,
there is no one who seeks God.
All have turned aside, together they have become worthless;
there is no one who shows kindness,
there is not even one.’

‘Their throats are opened graves;
they use their tongues to deceive.’
‘The venom of vipers is under their lips.’
‘Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.’
‘Their feet are swift to shed blood;
ruin and misery are in their paths,
and the way of peace they have not known.’
There is no fear of God before their eyes’ (Rom 3:10-18, NRSV).

The Christian faith is not unduly pessimistic, just unflinchingly realistic about human nature. G. K. Chesterton once remarked – tongue-in-cheek but quite accurately nonetheless – that original sin is the only truly demonstrable Christian doctrine. Christians – at least those who look honestly into Scripture and into their own hearts – understand “good people” as a category mistake not unlike a blue yesterday or a 5 o’clock square. There simply is no category of people – even the best of the lot – that may be called good and thus may be granted immunity from the difficulties and tragedies of life. Those Christians well grounded in the ancient faith are much more likely to ask why good things happen to bad people rather than the other way round.

Second, there is the notion of “bad things.” It takes a bit more work to see this also as a category mistake, but I think it is worth the effort.

Things – by which we generally mean actions or events – certainly may be evil. Christians consider anything that opposes the will of God to be evil. Nor does one need be a Christian to recognize evil, though the lack of absolute referent may be problematic. Christian or not, humans consider such atrocities as the Holocaust evil; to refuse to apply the word “evil” to such things is to bring one’s own humanity into question. There is, then, clearly a category of things labeled evil, a category usually reserved for the actions of men. And it is legitimate to question why evil things happen – not to good people but to any people at all. The Christian story offers an answer, though one I am afraid is much out of favor presently: sin. Evil is the product of human choice – free choice, yes, but free choice which has been conditioned by all the errant choices of humanity that have shaped a world in which evil is most often the easiest of choices to make. An addict is free to refuse the next drink or pill, but his freedom is conditioned by all the previous choices to feed his addiction and by the culture of addiction in which he almost certainly lives. This is not to reduce personal responsibility, but to place it within a context of corporate responsibility, as well. We are individuals, but also corporate members of humanity and our choices matter not only to ourselves, but to all men.

In a separate category, things may be tragic. These are impersonal events which violate a sense of proper order, a sense of how things “ought” to be: the untimely death of a child or young adult; the devastation wrought by tsunami, tornados, floods – “natural” disasters; the hardships wrought by drought and famine, and the like. Unlike evil things, there apparently is no one to blame for tragic events – unless one seriously considers them “acts of God.” Such events are nondiscriminatory and random – they just happen – making no distinction between saint and sinner or prince and pauper. Yet again, the Christian story offers the same explanation for tragic events as for evil ones: sin. Human sin has disrupted the order of creation and has introduced entropy and corruption where once there was order and incorruption (cf Rom 8). Clearly human behavior impacts nature: oil spills, greenhouse emissions, deforestation, etc. The Christian story sees these specific examples as signs of a disease that infects man at a much more fundamental level. The world is out of sorts because man has failed to fulfill his vocation as steward of God’s creation. Creation suffers at our hands, and we, in turn, suffer at creation’s hands.

We could add other categories. Painful things come to mind – loss and hurt common to all men – like the dissolution of a marriage, the death of an aged parent, the financial collapse of a family business: things not unusual or unexpected, but hurtful nonetheless. But no matter how many categories we add, one will be missing: bad things. For by “bad things” I mean irredeemable events that separate one from the love and will of God; and these simply do not exist.

As one case in point Scripture offers the story of Joseph: sold into slavery by his brothers, falsely accused of attempted rape, wrongly imprisoned, and forgotten. And yet, when time came that Joseph could exact revenge on the very brothers who instigated these evil events he said instead:

“Do not be afraid! Am I in the place of God? Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good, in order to preserve a numerous people, as he is doing today” (Gen 50:19-20, NRSV).

This text does not deny that Joseph’s brothers intended evil. Nor does the entire story deny that evil resulted from their actions; slavery and false imprisonment are clearly evil acts. But the story will not allow any of these things to be called bad precisely because God redeemed them and used them not only for Joseph’s salvation, but for the salvation of many – and ultimately for the salvation of all through the preservation of Israel.

The story of Joseph is but one of many examples offered in Scripture. Paul draws all the specific examples together in a grand theological picture of the good things in the providence of God:
We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose (Rom 8:28, NRSV).

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Rom 8:35, 37-39, NRSV).

Evil things? Yes. Tragic things? Certainly. But bad things – things which are irredeemable by God, things which cannot be incorporated into his will for the salvation of man and the restoration of the cosmos? No. So, the Christian has no answer for the question of why bad things happen to good people because he knows it to be a meaningless question. Instead, the Christian would prefer to tell the story of a God who is even now through Christ putting all things to rights, who is even now drawing good from evil and tragic events alike. The Christian prefers to tell the final chapter of the story in which heaven and earth are joined, God’s will is done on earth as in heaven, and God is all in all – the final chapter:

God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away (Rev 21:3b-4, NRSV).

This is more than semantics and sophistry; it is the Christian faith and hope that praise God as sovereign over his creation, that recognizes that our God is good and never stands helpless before his creation. It is the faith and hope that allow us to enter into the pain of the world in redemptive prayer and work, knowing that our God draws straight with crooked lines. He is, after all, the one who brought life for all from the death of his son – the greatest good from the worst evil. In light of the cross, there are no bad things – only things which God can and will use for good, for the life of the world.

Additional Thoughts:The foregoing still represents my best attempt at a theological answer to theodicy.  I still believe it to be true, but, when the evil days come, I am not convinced that it will be real.

When evil comes to us, I suspect we all want the same thing – the one thing we cannot have:  we want the evil “undone” and everything made right again.  But, the reality is otherwise.  The hateful word spoken cannot be retracted regardless of the multitude of “I’m sorry”s and “I didn’t mean it”s.  One act of infidelity shatters the trust so painstakingly fashioned from thousands of moments of faithfulness and cannot be turned to fidelity.  The mistake made cannot be unmade, though perhaps the consequences may be mitigated.  The true diagnosis once given is never retracted.  

Time has an arrow and it points resolutely forward.  And though we believe in being born anew, the “old things” never pass away as completely as we wish.  In his resurrected body – surely the best example of being born anew – Jesus retained the scars of his evil days.  And we retain ours.

So, we are left aching for total renewal:  for a true “do over,” for all things to be made new and right, for evil to be not only defeated but destroyed.  And that is precisely what we cannot have.  Not here.  Not now.  Not by our own power.

All we really have in the face of such evil is hope that the One who has promised to make all things new can and will, in the last great day, do so.  All we really have is the hope that, as Andrew Peterson sings in After The Last Tear Falls:

And in the end, the end is
Oceans and oceans
Of love and love again
We'll see how the tears that have fallen
Were caught in the palms
Of the Giver of love and the Lover of all
And we'll look back on these tears as old tales.

All we really have is trust that God is, that he loves us in ways and to depths that we cannot understand, that nothing can separate us from his love, and that ultimately his love will resemble that which we do understand:  a love that dries and then banishes tears with laughter, a love that comforts and then replaces sorrow with joy, a love that conquers and then finally destroys death.

Why is it not this way now?  Why the evil days?  I have no answer.  I cannot find a clear and direct answer in Scripture.  Things are not as we wish they were; that is the reality that keeps me praying, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

I am convinced that it is useless – and perhaps even harmful – to grapple with theodicy in the midst of evil days.  Some things must be decided beforehand.  If I have not – through prayer and worship and reflection and experience – determined that God is good and trustworthy before the evil days come, it is almost certain that I will not reach those conclusions in the depths of them, while desperate and suffering.  And this may be the only real answer to theodicy after all, though it is likely helpful to none but oneself:  I know God.  I have experienced his love for me and his faithfulness to me.  And while the evil days may shatter my theology and, for a moment, challenge my love for God, they cannot shatter the Truth or defeat God’s love for me.