PreacherMike

God is great;
God is good;
Now we thank him
for our food.

And therein is the problem. If God is great (all-powerful) and if he is good, then why does this world so often feel God-forsaken? Why is there such great suffering? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why must infants suffer?

“If there is an all-powerful and loving God in this world, why is there so much excruciating pain and unspeakable suffering?”

This is the question that has haunted Bart Ehrman, a prolific writer and professor of religious studies at UNC, for most of his lifetime.

The result of his quest to answer that question is his newest book, God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question–Why We Suffer, which I read this weekend.

He’s asking the questions I’ve been asking for many years. Those questions have led us in different directions, though.

Ehrman, once a student at Moody Bible institute and at Wheaton College and later a pastor of a Baptist Church while working on his Ph. D. at Princeton in New Testament studies, has decided that the answers for him do not lie in Christianity. “I now have lost [my faith] altogether. I no longer go to church, no longer believe, no longer consider myself a Christian.”

Then he explains, “The subject of this book is the reason why.” He had to finally admit to himself that what he was observing in life didn’t mesh with the claims of faith.

Ok, get ready for this: I like the book. I like it a lot. Maybe it’s not the kind of reading you want to give for May graduation gifts, but it strikes me as an honest journey — though a journey that ends in a very different place from where I am.

First, I appreciate how he honestly observes the pain and suffering in the world — from his personal experiences with suffering to the global agonies. Holocaust. Cancer. Starvation. Infant mortality. Tsunamis. Hurricanes. Diseases. Wars.

He remembers going to a Christmas Eve service during which they prayed for God to break into the darkness again.

Yes, I wanted to affirm this prayer, believe this prayer, commit myself to this prayer. But I couldn’t. The darkness is too deep, the suffering too intense, the divine absence too palpable. During the time that it took for this Christmas Eve service to conclude, more than 700 children in the world would have died of hunger; 250 others from drinking unsafe water; and nearly 300 other people from malaria. Not to mention the ones who had been raped, mutilated, tortured, dismembered, and murdered. Nor the innocent victims caught up in the human trade industry, nor those suffering throughout the world from grinding poverty, the destitute migrant farmworkers in our own country, those who were homeless and inflicted with mental disease. Nor to mention the silent suffering that so many millions of the well-fed and well-tended have to experience daily: the pain of children with birth defects, children killed in car accidents, children senselessly taken by leukemia, the pain of divorce and broken families; the pain of lost jobs, lost income, failed prospects. And where is God?

Sometimes when I’ve talked about suffering with my university students, I get the feeling that many of them — coming, perhaps, from comfortable, relatively pain-free lives — don’t yet get it. Darfur is too far away.

So, yes. I like his honestly. For me, it’s the great losses in my life; but it’s also the overwhelming flood of suffering in the world.

Second, I like his humility. Having read several of his other books, I think it maybe doesn’t come easily for him. (Couldn’t many of us say this about ourselves?) He points out that others who are equally aware and intelligent — including his wife, who is a distinguished prof of medieval English literature at Duke and a devoted Christian in the Episcopal church — come to different conclusions.

Third, I like his survey of how scripture attempts to answer the problems of theodicy, including these:

- The main voice of the Old Testament, which suggests that suffering comes because God is punishing us for being bad. At times, God is a fierce beast who rips his people to shreds for failing him (see Hosea 13 — the “prophet of love”). But does this really explain the suffering that we often see? Does that explain cancer that strikes godly people? How about babies who are perishing because they don’t have access to inexpensive malaria drugs?

- The implications of free will (emphasized in the novel The Shack, which I wrote about recently) — suffering as a collateral damage of the way we treat each other. But does this explain a tsunami? retardation? tornados? And if God SOMETIMES enters in to stop the suffering that might result (e.g., to protect a godly families from a drunk driver), then how do you explain that he doesn’t USUALLY seem to do that? If he EVER intervenes, isn’t that in some ways even more of a problem?

- The view that suffering is ultimately redemptive. “But I just don’t see anything redemptive when Ethiopian babies die of malnutrition, or when thousands of people die today (and yesterday, and the day before) of malaria, or when your entire family is brutalized by a drug-crazed gang that breaks into your home in the middle of the night.”

- The focus of some biblical authors that suffering is a kind of test. Think here of Job or Genesis 22 (God’s demand that Abraham sacrifice Isaac). Side note: his material on Job, and the important questions he asks, was worth the price of the book to me.

- The belief of some of the apocalyptic passages that suffering is caused by forces opposed to God. Ehrman says: “It is also rooted in a blind faith that eventually everything wrong will be made right — a nice thoguht, and one that I wish were true. But it is, at the end of the day, blind faith; and it can lead all too easily to social apathy: since problems won’t be solved until the end, there is no point in our working to solve them now.”

There is one biblical writer that he thinks gets it right: Ecclesiastes. In his reading of that book this means that suffering is mystery, this life is all there is, and that we should seek personal joy and joy for our fellow human beings as we live it.

Maybe you don’t want to read this book. I understand. It’s not for the faint of heart.

It’s called God’s Problem. But, as a believer in the Triune God, I have to ask this: does God really have a problem. Or do I?

So here, I think, are Bart’s Problems. (I say this with great respect for his scholarship. I’ve been blessed by reading several of his books.)

First, he believes that the earliest Christians didn’t understand Jesus of Nazareth to be God himself. Rather, he thinks that was a later development. For good reasons, I disagree. And if you disagree, that makes a lot of different. It does not solve the problem of suffering. I’m still confounded. Still searching. Still upset and flummoxed. But it matters deeply to me that I believe God came among us and suffered with us.

Second, despite his disclaimer in the beginning, it feels at times that he forgets that people with equal intelligence and courage have looked right into the monster of pain and have continued to believe. Even with questions and mystery swirling about them. Remember the story of Dr. Diane Komp? A pediatric oncologist, she actually came to faith in the midst of horrible stories of suffering. It wasn’t charismatic healing that convinced her; it was courageous, faith-filled suffering.

Third, and I know this is just kind of pragmatic, I think he’s advocating a view that won’t work for you when you die. Not after you die — but as you face your mortality. The end stories of unbelievers tend not to be pretty. Something in us insists that there is more. Our souls are, indeed, restless until they rest in him.

My journey to understand continues. I’m so thankful for Bart Ehrman as a conversation partner. If my son winds up doing his residency in North Carolina, perhaps we’ll have a chance to sit down some day and chat about it.