On Suffering and Evil

In the wake of massive damage and loss of life here in Alabama, I am reminded again of the problem of evil and the problem of suffering. Tornadoes, death, and suffering are a kind of message to all of us, whether we are a Christian or an atheist. They say something about the world in which we live, and if we believe in God they must say something about the God we believe in. Regardless of where we are theologically, disaster and calamity dig deep into our hearts and root up age old questions and quandaries.

There are those, I'm sure, who are convinced atheists due to scientific reason alone. They have been convinced that logic alone should drive everyone to see that there is no God or gods, and that our belief in such is simply what drives us to behave for the propagation of the species. Death by tornado, or famine, or drought, is a random process exactly like the randomness that produced life in the first place. You cannot explain randomness in a big picture way; it simply is. We feel the loss, but even these emotions come from the need to self-preserve. It is natural, and we must cope the best way we know how.

I suspect, however, that at least as many people are atheist and agnostic because of what disaster would imply about a God or a group of gods who would supposedly rule over this world. If there is an omnipotent God who is good, why are children dying of cancer? Why are people starving? From the data, one might well reason that such a God is either not omnipotent or not good. And so goes the old quip about what the atheist really believes, "There is no God, and I hate Him."

I am a convinced Theist, and I believe that there is one God who is both omnipotent and good. I am aware, painfully aware, that there is much suffering in this world. Suffering marks us all. I know that pain and suffering can pull a veil over the eyes with regard to spiritual things, especially regarding an omnipotent God who loves and is good. Pain and suffering are like a stormy night at sea, all stars are obscured, navigation is not possible, and sometimes the best a man can do is batten down the hatches and hope for daylight.

I feel as if unbelief is a kind of blindfold that can ruin a man. It will embitter his soul, and it blinds him from any hope and dooms him to a sort of pessimism that cannot be hidden or squelched. It breeds cynicism. He may be able to see a crack of light from under the veil, just enough to keep his feet moving forward, but it prevents him from seeing that there is, indeed, a real hope and a big picture. This is why, at best, such a man would see me as a naive optimist, or perhaps a weak fool who cannot embrace the reality of this world and so I must embrace fairy tales to survive.

Somehow, it is my prayer that despite the input of pain and suffering, I can patiently, seriously, and steadfastly point to a hope that can bring peace. I am not seeking to give perfect understanding, that is naive. But I am seeking to point to a light in the darkness, a guiding star in the storm.

Some would think it cruel to tell a person who is suffering that God is good, and indeed, it may be presented in such a way. But I think it cruel not to give hope to a man drowning in despair. If there is an empty tomb, if there is a God who resurrects the dead, if there is a God who alone can bring perfect justice, if there is a God who fashioned, formed, and sustains the earth, if there is an all-wise, all-knowing, all-powerful God who strikes and heals, who brings down and lifts up, who calms the sea and causes it to rage, then I ought to say so. Pain is real, and it is terrible. But the pain that bring darkness can also bring clarity. As the Puritans said, the same sun that melts the ice hardens the clay.

When I encounter suffering, as I am bound to in the next few weeks, I want to start with the grave of Jesus of Nazareth. I don't want to be cliche, I don't want to be Polyanna, I want to be grave yard serious. Is the tomb empty, or isn't it? If it isn't, then I despair and embrace the darkness that must swallow all. But if it is, if that man Jesus really did shake the earth and rise from the grave, then there is a hope that beats back the darkness, and a dawn that calms the storm.

She Kissed His Feet (Lk. 7:36-50)

Simon was a religious man. He understood morality; he understood right from wrong. He knew what things a good person should do and what things a good person should avoid. Mostly, I would guess that Simon and I would probably cast similar votes on election day. I would guess that he and I would avoid the same places, habits, and people. One day, Simon had the privilege of having Jesus over to his house for dinner.

During the course of that meal, a very unusual thing happened. A woman who was a known "sinner" came over and began to kiss Jesus' feet. She kissed his feet. She was crying as she did this, and she was wiping off his feet with her hair. How awkward for Simon. How awkward this is for me to watch, you might say, as I read this story. I am a by-stander, these many years later, to a very intimate, and potentially humiliating moment.

I am not really concerned with Simon. I don't need to analyze his thinking. I understand him well enough because I'm like him. I relate to Simon. I think most people I know are probably like Simon.

I have also known a few women like the one in this story. That is, I have known some sinful women. I have known some, what others call, "loose" women. I only mention this to say that I know some folks like her; who do and have done the things she did. She is hardly an unusual character.

I do not understand Jesus. I do not know anyone like him. He is the odd thing in this story for me, and the one that I most want to be like. I can relate to Simon because I am Simon. And really, I think he is the most common, if not the most easily despised character in the story. I can understand the immoral woman. I cannot understand Jesus, and yet I must.

I know that the main point of this story is that the immoral woman loved Jesus more than Simon. I get that part of the story. I amen that part of the story. I love it that Jesus rebukes Simon's, and therefore my, pettiness. I need more than that.

I want to know how Jesus did it. How did he gain this woman's love, real love. She was a woman of "ill repute." She knew what it was for men to desire her. She knew what it was to enjoy a man. So, I have to wonder, how was her encounter so different with Jesus? He obviously did not pursue her as an object of lust. I want to know what he said to her. I want to know where he met her. I want to know how his kindness to her and his love for her as an individual was made so obvious to her that it broke her heart and healed it at the same time. I want to know what he did or said that was so powerful that it would overcome her probable dislike of Simon so much that she would break taboo to go into Simon's house and kiss Jesus' feet! How did he do that? I say with those gathered, "Who is this, who even forgives sins?" I say this and I know who he is. He amazes me.

There are plenty of Simons in my town, and there are plenty of people of ill-repute. I want the church to be like Jesus, who was able to sit with both, who was able to amaze both. Oh that God would help the church to be amazing again like his Son is! For myself, today I must be contented to watch Jesus as the woman kisses his feet while Simon scowls, and the guests shift nervously in their seats.

The Truth about "Joe India"

Once upon a time, I wrote a post about whether or not people who never hear the gospel, read the gospel, or in some way find out about the gospel, go to hell. I answered that yes, they perish without hope. Of all the posts I've written, I have gotten more 'late' comments on it than any other. Mostly, people are opposed to my answer because they believe it to be unjust. I want to challenge that notion.

I have a character that I call "Joe India" or "Joe Africa" or "Joe Brazil". It doesn't matter where he's from, the thing about the guy is that he has never come into contact with the gospel of Jesus Christ. I tell people that "Joe" will certainly perish in his sin and go to everlasting torment. I do not relish this thought in the least, and I have invested time and money and prayers to see to it that as many hear the gospel as possible. But is it unfair that such a person should go to hell without a 'chance' at being saved?

Here's why it is just: Joe India is a sinner who hates God. There's the problem. Joe India does not 'deserve' a 'chance' to be saved. If he did deserve a chance to be saved, then the gospel would not be grace: it would be something that God owed Joe India. He does not owe anyone anything, and therefore it is perfectly just to allow a pagan to die in his trespass.

I know that people who object to this often point out that my stance seems to make God out to be cruel or unjust. I do not believe that God is either cruel or unjust. I believe that He is merciful and compassionate. I submit that my position does not make God cruel or unjust, but it is the only position that can make Him both merciful and just at the same time.

Most evangelicals will agree that sinners deserve hell. Indeed, most will agree that everyone on earth deserves hell. If they did not truly deserve hell, then there is no need for them to have a savior in Jesus Christ. Yet, many of these same folks will irrationally argue that it is unfair for someone to perish who has not heard the gospel. It cannot be both just and unjust for someone to go to hell at the same time. Therefore, if Joe India deserves hell, never hears the gospel, and perishes in his sin, then he will certainly go to hell as he deserves. This establishes that God is just.

How does it establish His mercy? It establishes His mercy because I, for one, am not going to the hell that I deserve. I did hear the gospel of Jesus Christ, and by God's grace, I believed it. I should have gone to hell, and I did not deserve the opportunity to repent. Yet God, in His mercy, allowed me to both hear and believe the gospel. He did not allow this privilege to Joe India. That does not make God unjust or cruel. It makes Him just towards Joe India and merciful toward me. He did have a degree of mercy on Joe India by allowing him to live life as a God-hater, but God did not extend to Him the same sort of mercy that He did to me. God was not obligated to do that.

What is Evangelism? Part 1

I'm going to try to do a series here that answers the question, "What is Evangelism?" It may only be two posts; it may be five. No big promises here. But it occurs to me that answering this question is very important because, by all accounts at the last convention, the problem with the SBC is that we aren't doing enough of it. Even the President of the Convention said so, and I do not doubt that it's true.

So let's get a rudimentary definition of "evangelism." I'll say that evangelism is the heralding of the gospel of God. This can be one on one, or it can be done in crowds of thousands. That sounds easy enough, but the concern I have is that we have lost the key component of evangelism: the gospel itself. If we have no sound gospel, then we have no evangelism. Do you suppose this is what President Page means?

Secondly, I am afraid that we have lost the purpose of evangelism. I will say, just to get things going, that the chief end of the gospel/evangelism is not to get people saved. I believe that even if we have a sound gospel, if we try to use it in a way that it is not intended, or expect from it what it was never intended to do, then we will become frustrated with it. Sort of like trying to use a screwdriver to drive a nail. Or better yet, trying to turn a screw with the tip of a butterknife. While I believe that it is true that many "evangelicals" could not give a satisfactory answer for "What is the Gospel?" I believe that most would do even worse with, "What is evangelism for?"

I wrote that the chief end of the gospel is not for the salvation of people. Though by God's grace, many are saved through its proclamation. The reason this cannot be its chief end and primary purpose is because not everyone is saved by the gospel. Let me through another point in here; I believe that neither evangelism or the gospel fail in their purpose. My outline looks like this:

1. Evangelism is the heralding of the gospel.
2. Evangelism never fails in its chief end.
3. Often, people are not saved after they are evangelized.
4. Therefore, the chief end of the evangelism cannot be the salvation of souls.

So if evangelism's chief end is not for the salvation of souls, what is the purpose of evanglism? My simple answer is that evangelism, which is the heralding of the gospel, has for its chief end the glorification of God. This, I believe, should be self-evident and basic. It should not shock, and after building up to that point, you may have hoped that I was going for something a bit more profound.

If it is true that the chief end of evangelism is to glorify God, is it true that evangelism never fails in its purpose? I say that yes, it never fails. "Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place. For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing. To the one we are the aroma of death leading to death, and to the other the aroma of life leading to life. And who is sufficient for these things?" (2 Cor. 2:14-16). When we herald the gospel, we are always a pleasing aroma to God, regardless of whether people believe.

If this is true, then why is it that almost every year our success in evangelism is measured in terms of conversions and/or baptisms? Why is it that we push men and women onto the mission field with pleas to go to people who are "starving for the gospel?" Do we wonder why missionaries and church members burn out after going "door to door" and living amongst the lost when they see no conversions? The reason they get so discouraged is because, on some basic level, we are taught that the purpose of evangelism is to get people saved. I cannot imagine a more potentially discouraging situation.

One of my chief discouragments, year after year, is to hear evangelism preached at the convention in terms of "we've got to win people to Jesus." God knows that I long to see people won to Christ with all my heart. But what I long for above all things, indeed the chief end of my life, is to see God glorified. Maybe missionary and evangelistic endeavor is marked as "failure" because we have forgotten what it is for. Couldn't one, just one pastor stand at the convention and preach on evangelism as if God's glory is at stake and not just the fate of wretched, rebellious people who hate Him with every fiber of their being? When I say that His glory is at stake in the gospel and evangelism, I do not mean that He is gambling His glory there as if He could lose it or gain it according to our faithfulness. Rather, I mean that His glory is at stake in terms of our seeing it manifested, by salvation or by glorious judgment, if we do not herald it.

Tomorrow, we'll have to answer, "What is the Gospel?" if we want to understand evangelism better. Stay tuned.

The Foolishness of the Gospel

I recently had another one of those funerals where I knew no person involved. I was called because one of the family members contacted a friend about a minister to do the service, and that friend contacted me. I had never even met the friend, she knew me only by reputation. They asked me to come, and I went.

The family was rather nice, and they seemed well-educated and pretty cultured. They were polite with me, and they thanked me for coming. They gave me the order of service. I was to open with prayer and then lead the family and friends in the Lord's Prayer. At the close of the service, I was to give a devotional thought and close with the 23rd Psalm. After this was explained and I had offered condolences to the family, one of the family members spoke up and said something to the effect of, "Now, we don't need a sermon pastor, or some speech on, 'Repent or else!' Just something nice. I'm sure you know what you're doing." The family laughed in agreement. They wanted no sermon and no message on repentance.

I was oddly stunned. I was called at the last minute, and I had planned on speaking from Ecclesiastes 12 and the vanity of clinging to this life without regard to God. I felt as if the rug had been pulled from under me because I knew that if you take away sermons and messages on eternal life and repentance and hell and heaven, I'm just a guy in a suit. The janitor would have had more things to say than me, and he wouldn't have had to drive as far to say them.

So I went in the back and I prayed. I did not speak on Ecclesiastes 12. Instead, I chose 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18, which is all about the resurrection from the dead and the glorious appearing of our Lord. I did the opening condolence, recited the Lord's Prayer, and sat and waited in growing discomfort.

The family gave the eulogy. One read a poem about how the deceased had not really died but simply had become one with nature. She was now a bird and the wind and the grass and the water. She was everywhere and always with them. The family wept; I fidgeted.

My part came soon, and I took my Bible and stood behind the lectern. The family waited, and I struggled. I knew that what I was about to say would probably offend, but that is not what bothered me. I felt deeply, for perhaps the first time, the foolishness of the gospel. I don't know why it struck me so deeply at that moment, but it did. As I was turning to 1 Thessalonians, the thought in my head was, "I am about to tell these people that a Jewish man some 2000 years ago died and came back to life. And if that weren't enough, I am about to tell them that this same man is going to appear in the sky and that when He does, He will teleport people into the air to hover with Him there." Internally, I chuckled to myself. How absurd I was about to sound to these people!

So I preached, contrary to the request that was made. I did not raise my voice or yell, I simply presented the hope of the gospel in all of its glory and foolishness, and I told them that I believed it with all of my heart. I came to give hope to those who mourn, but more importantly, I came to give honor to the One who is Sovereign over life and death. That is why I disregarded the request, and that is why I always will.

Next time, I will be better prepared for such a circumstance. If someone says something like that, I will simply say something like, "Sir, I am servant of Jesus Christ, not a hired professional. I must say what I must say, and if that is disagreeable to you, then I will leave. But I promise you this, what I say will be sweet because repentance and salvation is sweet, though not everyone finds such truth palatable."

The gospel is foolishness to those who are perishing, and I am a fool for Christ's sake. May the Lord bless the gospel that was not wanted but was given, and may they come to see a likely offense as a tender mercy. Amen.