OK, I admit it.  It’s my fault.  I bear the full share of blame.  It’s on my shoulders.

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            Often in conversations about God, a profound question comes up, “If God is supposedly a loving God, then why is there so much pain and suffering in the world, especially among the innocent, who couldn’t possibly have done anything to deserve it?”  This is a valid question; one which theologians and philosophers have battled with for centuries.  A whole category of theological study has been given to it, which is called theodicy.  Most of the time, those who delve into this question strive to maintain the sovereignty of God, but are frustrated by the details which don’t seem to make sense.  Usually the serious inquirer who brings up the question is given a vapid and unsatisfying reply, which goes something like, “God’s ways are higher than our ways, and often His purposes remain a mystery to us.  We simply have to trust Him to have some grand purpose for this tragedy, and believe that all will work out for the greater good in the end.”  It is obvious why this appears to be more of an evasion than a real answer, and most of us, when asked, are too proud to simply say “I don’t know.”

            Others have suggested that the main question here is really, “Where was God when such-and-such happened?”  This, too, leaves us cold—wondering why we call God sovereign if He may have somehow been caught off guard by some event, or if He may be too impotent or indifferent to care.  Surely an all-powerful God must have enough control of nature and physics to prevent any tragedy.  Matt. 10:29 says:  “Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father;” reminding us of His ultimate awareness.  And other statements such as “no temptation has taken you but such as is common to man,” and “all things work together for good,” simply tell us that stuff happens, and we need to deal with it.  Even so, we still don’t know why.

            If you, like me, believe that this only scratches the surface of the issue, then let’s look at some of the fine points, first of the question itself, and then of the Biblical ideas and principles which can point us to a better answer for this enigma.  Surely there’s more God will show us through His Scriptures, since He is a revealer of the secrets of His heart as well as of our own hearts.

Understanding pain

            It is easy to understand the application of the term pain in this context.  We generally understand it to encompass the full range of discomfort and calamity which befalls us, ranging from injury and disease to natural disasters to poverty and man’s inhumanity to man.  So when we want an explanation, we want one that covers it ALL.  Fair enough.  After all, if God deserves His definition as the all-powerful sovereign, then He should be more than able to deal with any instance of suffering in any category.

            Many times at this point the discussion gets sidetracked on whether God causes the pain Himself, or does He merely sit back and allow affliction to come upon us from some other source, indirectly causing the problem merely by failing to intervene.  This question is irrelevant, for whether He directly or indirectly causes pain, surely in either case He still would be able to prevent it, or at the very least end it quickly.

            Most will say that pain is a great teacher, if for no other reason than to tell us what to avoid doing if we wish to avoid future pain.  This may deal on a personal level with an individual’s unintentionally self-inflicted problems, but what am I to learn from someone else’s natural disaster, some other continent’s epidemic, or some neighbor’s accident?

            The purpose of physical pain is easily understood by the medical profession.  Any doctor will tell you that pain is an indicator of a problem, but is not necessarily the problem itself.  Pain serves as the body’s alert system, warning us that something is wrong, which then triggers nerve sensations which the brain interprets as painful.  The course of action then becomes diagnosing the problem which caused the pain, and then once the source is corrected, the painful sensations will disappear in due course.  We’ve all heard the one about the injured athlete who yells, “Just give me something for the pain!” so he can then return to the game, injury and all.  Assuredly, any medical expert worth his paycheck would not stop with the administering of a mere pain reliever.

            So if pain is an alarm, society’s pain must have been triggered by something societal in scope.  At this point in the discussion, theology agrees with the assertion that the release of sin into the world at the fall of man in the Garden of Eden is the cause of the pain, and then tells us that the death of Jesus on the cross is the remedy.  The final cure will come at the consummation of the age, when Jesus returns and sin is finally and fully rooted out.  In the meantime, the redemption of man one by one is the beginning--the precursor to the ultimate healing.  This is true, as Romans 8:19-23 tells us:

For the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth for the manifestation of the sons of God. For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope, Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.  And not only they, but ourselves also, which have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.

            For some, this is clearly as far as we can go with the matter.  But yet, too many questions still go unanswered.  Why then would Christians not be exempt from this pain?  Why does it continue in such a seemingly random manner?  And with the number of Christians growing in many parts of the world, why are they unable to ward off at least some of this suffering by their prayers?  The truth is that the issue is not so cut and dried; all this theological rambling still doesn’t give us much to go on.  Thus we end up retreating to the same non-answers that we had before--unless we take another step deeper.

Understanding love

            A good look at the beginning of the question tells us of something else we need to understand before we approach an answer.  “If God is Love ...” or “If He’s a loving God ...” flag for us another term we need to look deeper into—love.  As I discuss elsewhere, the word love is best understood when taken in context with its four Greek counterparts (for this understanding I am indebted to the C. S. Lewis book The Four Loves).  We will here briefly look at three of these, mainly so we may contrast them with the fourth, into which we will then delve more deeply.  (For a more in-depth unraveling of this topic, redundant though I may become, please see the essay The Christianese Top Ten List which is linked below.)

            The most commonly understood type of love in our culture is represented by the Greek word eros, which is a reference to the Greek god of love.  It is here where we get the term erotic; a reference to romantic/sexual attraction.  The next word is storgos, which might be rendered in English as affection.  This is the love of parents to children, or among siblings, grandparents, or other close relatives.  Another Greek word is phileo, often synonymous with friendship or brotherhood.  It is the most general term, at times denoting a mere preference or fondness, or when used more widely a sense of civic or societal responsibility we cheerfully attend to.

            Our final word is agape, which is the most etymologically obscure and specifically Christian term.  Some Greek scholars assert that it was probably made up by Christians to describe a love for and by God which the other words could not properly convey.  So then the only valid way to see what this word means is to look at the actions it causes.

            As we spend some time with the word agape, some things become quite clear.  Throughout the Gospel of John we read of such events as Jesus telling Nicodemus that “God so loved ... that He gave ...,” and then later telling His disciples that they would be known as Christians if they love one another.  We discover also that we are to love the brethren, our neighbors, our enemies, and God Himself.  Lofty sections in I Corinthians 13 and in I John also give much description of the idea behind agape.  Therefore as we progress through this study, the first common thread we find is that Christian love gives, and does so without measure or reservation.

            But to continue this line of thought, in John 15:13 we read that the greatest love is when a man lays down his life for his friends.   Does this mean the classic idea of jumping in front of a speeding train in order to push someone else out of harm’s way?  If this were true, we could only love once!  Biblically, life is defined with a broader stroke, encompassing all that which we value and live for.  Luke 12:15 explains the non-material aspect of this idea, saying that “a man’s life consists not in the abundance of the things which he possesses.”  There is also much discussion about the affairs of life, one’s manner of life, and of hating one’s life in this world in order to save it unto the next.  So life—as Jesus used the term—encompasses all of one’s goods, concerns, values, and activities; and to lay all this down for the benefit of another without special consideration or respect for the status of the one loved is the second common thread.

            Finally, a third common thread is the idea of the emotion of compassion which accompanies agape love.  Merely committing acts of giving or self-sacrifice fails to fulfill the requirement; in I Cor. 13:3 Paul tells us that even if he were to give the most he had, if he were to “have not charity (agape in the Greek), it profiteth me nothing.”  The emotion portrayed here is different from those of the other three Greek words we saw earlier, for in this case the emotion of love motivates rather than dominates us.

            So with all this being said, we can see that a good definition of Christian love, or this “God-kind of love,” might be expressed as compassionately contributing to or acting toward another’s benefit without consideration of what it might carry as a personal cost.  This attitude will place the ultimate good of someone else above any personally valued object or situation.  So when a person loves another with Christian love, that one must do so without regard to reward, reputation, comfort, convenience, or even an offering of gratitude.

Understanding our role

            Certainly within the Church we have a general understanding that, corporately and individually, we are God’s agency by which He communicates to the world.  We are called His ambassadors, the light of the world, and the salt of the earth.  We are His hands, His feet, His voice.  Of course there have always been signs and wonders as confirmation of the word spoken, and the occasional miraculous intervention when God’s purposes allowed.  But without question it is primarily up to us; we are the expression of the Gospel to those around us as bearers of His Word, and truly “the only Bible some people ever read.”

            So what does all this have to do with our initial question?  If God’s love for the world fits our above description, then we can easily see His love through Jesus, as described by the Gospel, in that the sacrifice of Jesus was for our benefit, coming at a high price to God, and was done with great compassion for us.  But how does that apply to those who are suffering around the world?  And if pain truly is a teacher, what is the lesson of this pain, if there is one?  Have we properly diagnosed the cause of this pain as the sin in the world?  If so, then the fulfillment of the Great Commission would bring about the end of all hurricanes and earthquakes!  And we know that at our Lord’s return this will be the case.  But suddenly we’re right back where we started, without an answer that applies to the random pain we see here and now.

            Perhaps we have allowed the sheer size of the problem to give us a sense of futility about addressing it.  We ask, “What can one person do?” yet we so easily forget the size of the God we serve who is capable, through us, of doing it all.  We conveniently forget about our brothers and sisters in the faith with whom we can band together, or else make excuses that they might not agree with us about what we should do or how we should do it.  We conveniently cast the burden on someone else whom we might consider bigger, more capable, or better equipped, and then sit on our sofas and watch it all on TV, criticizing them when they inevitably fail to do it the way we would have—when it should have been us in the first place.

            A Christian’s ability to love is often seen as a measure of that individual’s maturity in Christ.  We are expected to mature, which is why the Holy Spirit is given to us.  And we are expected to increase and abound in knowledge and in good works, as God’s love is “shed abroad in our hearts.”  But do we love those who are suffering?  Do we run to the aid of those in need, whether they are in the Church or not?  Have we sacrificed of ourselves in order to act in the best interests of those in pain, even to the expense of our own comfort or security?

            Could it be that the very thing God wants to teach us in the midst of this world’s distress is to be the avenue of his uncompromising love to a hurting world?  Have we not become the “miserable comforters” as were the three elders in the book of Job (see chapter 13 of that book)?  At the end of the book we note that although God certainly rebuked Job, He required no sacrifice of him, but sacrifices were required of the elders for not “speaking what is right,” or giving God proper glory in this time of need.  Rather than being a classic example of what not to do for a friend in need, how much better an example could they have provided if perhaps Eliphaz had said, “let me apply this salve to your boils,” or if Bildad had said, “accept these camels laden with food and clothing for your relief,” or if Zophar had said, “please come to my house and take shelter for as long as you need.”  But instead, theirs is the very picture of the failing of a natural, practical compassion among God’s people that we see coming so easily from the world every time an outpouring of relief comes in to a humanitarian organization in response to news reports of a disaster in the world.  Could not these elders, who had sat and grieved with Job for a full week and were able to intelligently discuss with him the things of God, have given him some tangible assistance?

            The ninth chapter of John’s Gospel begins with a story about a blind man who caught the notice of Jesus and His disciples.  The disciples’ first question to Jesus was, “Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”  Jesus’ response to them immediately directed their thinking away from playing this “blame game” and onto the situation at hand.  His words, “that the works of God should be made manifest in him” preceded a practical tangible solution based on compassion, not on passing the buck or on pointing fingers.

            In His story known as the “parable of the Good Samaritan,” Jesus shows us a picture of someone who demonstrated the altruistic inclination that He expects from all of us.  For though the priest and the Levite should and could have been the best ones to help the victim, they washed their hands of the problem and didn’t want to get involved.  Jesus related no conversation between the Samaritan and the victim, but it is certain that no such conversations as those which occurred in the book of Job are implied to have taken place.  The victim didn’t have to explain his ethnicity, his reasons for his traveling, or what he did wrong that left him open to thieves.  Sadly, our habit has become to emulate the “bad guys” of the parable and the book of Job, mouthing off about where to place the blame while perching on our pedestals and muttering something like “I’m glad it wasn’t me.”

            If there is a lesson behind this grief, then certainly it must be for us to learn love for the suffering people of the world.  If pain is a symptom of something deeper, then the true malady that this pain points to is our inattention to those people for whom we have been given the responsibility to love.  If love is self-sacrifice for the good of another, then clearly we have not given ourselves sufficiently for the remedy of any other person.  We have become incapable of “loving” without a vested interest—and that isn’t love at all.

Understanding society’s role

            A brief look at recent North American history and theological trends will reveal an alarming mindset.  There have been signs since the beginning of the twentieth century (or perhaps earlier) that we in the Western Church have increasingly been losing sight of our God-given responsibility to minister to the needs of those around us, and have replaced it with a greater attention to trivialities and every minor dispute we can come up with.  When times become difficult for those around us, we default to government institutions to take care of our neighbors in need, and shun the very idea of soiling our own hands by becoming involved ourselves through our ministry as the church.

            Throughout the history of Western civilization before this development, it had always been understood that when someone needed help, they could turn first to their family, or, failing that option, to the church for help.  The New Testament is full of admonitions to the believers to take care of the widows and orphans in their midst, comfort and pray for the sick, and honor and care for the weak, elderly, and otherwise marginalized.  It was the saints of old, not the kings and princes, who built and ran the hospitals and orphanages, opened the soup kitchens, and banded together as a community to help one of its own, whether they were a fellow believer or just a neighbor.

            But no more.  We, the church, have allowed ourselves to become so completely embroiled in meaningless debates that our eyes are clouded, and we fail to attend to our true responsibilities.  And so, because needs are so great and the church so neglectful, the government has stepped in to act as relief agent, caretaker, and healer.  Therefore we acquiesce and make statements such as, “isn’t that what the government is for?”  This is the definitive and premier violation of the idea of the separation of church and state, and is welcomed by all parties with open arms.

            To justify our inaction, we have constructed elaborate theologies to excuse our laziness, and have even said that Jesus’ teaching indicates that good works were the province of “nations,” entirely side-stepping His Biblical understanding of what a nation is, not to mention all the other scriptures on the topic.  And for the icing on the cake, when a secular charitable organization, abounding with Hollywood spokespersons, sports heroes, and political figures, begs the public for additional help, we are content to throw a little money at the problem, hoping that a quick and painless E-mail donation will ameliorate our conscience and make it all go away.  Behold, how small a bowl of red stew we have sold our birthright for!

God’s expectation

            It will do us little good to sit in our comfort zones and pray for miraculous intervention in the lives of those affected by the natural disasters, pandemics, and freak accidents that so easily surround us all.  How dare we cast blame on God for allowing tragedy to occur, when our neglectfulness to respond in the face of such tragedy is the very thing He is trying to remove from us!  No matter how incomprehensible the event, no matter how innocent the victim, and no matter how immense the scope of the tragedy, our compassion, self-sacrifice, and inexhaustible action must not fail to demonstrate the love and mercy of God to the hurting of the world.  There is no short supply of need; therefore there must be no short supply in our response to it.  The deep lessons are there for us to learn, and they will be ours when each one of us stops shirking our responsibility to respond with reckless abandon to aid the one our Master might well refer to as “the least of these.”

            Am I asserting that if the Church, or perhaps society in general, were to effectively and lovingly respond to these needless tragedies, that God would see that our lesson is learned and stop such things from occurring?  Of course that would be impossible; each new generation of saints would need their testing, and each group of less mature believers would need their experience in doing this.  However, I can’t help but feel that it stands to reason that if we catch on to this bit of instruction, God would take notice of our righteous behavior and perhaps lessen the occasion of its need.  In any case, the call to love is not a mere suggestion or option, but a key characteristic of God’s people.