Romans 8:18-28 / John 1:1-5, 10-14
July 14, 2013
Where is God when bad things happen? Why do bad things
happen to good people? If God is good and loving and all-powerful, why doesn’t
God put an end to suffering? As we continue through this sermon series on
seeing gray in a world of black and white, today we pause from dealing with
specific issues to step back and look at a broader issue – the problem of
suffering.
Our goal in this sermon series is to help each one of us
think Biblically and critically about Christian ethics. In my first sermon, I
began by looking at the Wesleyan Quadrilateral – the role of scripture,
tradition, experience, and reason – in making faithful ethical decisions. We
revisited that this week in our small group studies. I then focused on the
importance and primacy of scripture as we wrestle with the difficult issues of
our day. Over the past three weeks Parker has helped us explore three specific
issues: science and religion, life and abortion, and war and peace. I hope
you’re beginning to feel like you’ve got the tools and resources you need to
articulate or at least explore where you stand as a Christian on these
difficult issues.
This week, as I’ve listened to Parker’s sermons,
participated in several of our studies, and reflected on the problem of
suffering, the thing that struck me was that our focus as we wrestle with these
difficult issues often seems to be largely on ourselves. We tend to ask, how
will this impact me? Even as we look at and acknowledge the primacy of
scripture, experience still plays a significant role in the way most of us do
Christian ethics. Experience is what leads us to wonder why bad things happen
to good people. It feels hard to step away from our own experiences and look at
the broader picture.
I think we all understand that suffering clearly falls into
the gray area of our lives. Dealing with suffering is difficult, even if we’re
trained professionals. But there are some things that just don’t work. I think
of those who try to help others by saying, “Everything happens for a reason,”
or “It must be God’s will.” These phrases tend to transfer responsibility for
the tragedy to God, lifting the responsibility from our own shoulders. “It’s
not your fault,” “There’s nothing you could have done,” “Everything happens for
a reason,” “It must be God’s will.” And perhaps lifting blame does help, but
transferring the blame to God is – well – wrong.
When I was teaching high school, the head cheerleader one
year was this amazing young woman named Vanessa. She was bright, talented, and
well liked by all her peers. One day on her way to school she was in a deadly
car accident that left the entire school reeling in grief. Everyone knew and
loved Vanessa. The thing is, people kept saying things like, “It must be God’s
will,” and “God must have needed her in heaven.” And I just wanted to scream. I
have no interest in worshipping a God who wills suffering or who takes the life
of a beautiful young woman for selfish purposes. If that is the God we worship,
then I’m out of here.
This understanding of God is called Determinism. In this
view God controls all things, knows all things, and is all-powerful. We are
merely actors in God’s plan. This simply doesn’t match my understanding of God.
My God is all-powerful but has chosen to limit Himself so that I might have
free will. That’s how much God loves me. My God doesn’t demand my love. My God
wants me to choose to love Him, to choose to follow Him, to choose to be
obedient. And my God has shown me through scripture, tradition, experience and
reason that when I choose other paths – as we all have done – those choices
have consequences. Seemingly random consequences that ripple out and impact
others the way a drunk driver might take the life of a child who was simply in
the wrong place at the wrong time. And consequences that are very clearly the
result of my own decisions. No, I don’t believe in Determinism. God doesn’t
control all things. But that often leads to the question, “Does God control
anything?”
At the other end of the spectrum we have Deism. The belief
in a creator God who put the stars in the heavens and the planets in motion and
established the laws that govern the universe, but now God is now sitting back
and watching the world go by. In
this view, God neither causes suffering nor intervenes to stop it. We’re on our
own.
I suspect there are many people today – both non-church goers
and church goers – who understand God in this way even if they would never
articulate it this way. They affirm that there is clearly some creative force
in the world – just look around at the beauty and wonder! – but that creative
force appears to be more or less powerless in our daily lives. Well, if this is
the God we worship, then I’m wasting a lot of time and energy. This God doesn’t
care about me and my problems! I need to take care of myself!
If Deism and Determinism mark the extremes – if a hands-off
God or a totally hands-on God mark our black and white – then we might as well
forget about Christian ethics and just do whatever feels right. After all, God
either already knows what we’re going to do or God doesn’t care. On the other
hand, I’m really not sure I want to worship a God who falls somewhere in the
middle of these two extremes. I need a God who is so much more than gray. A
gray God just sounds wishy-washy. I need a God who is all-loving, all-powerful,
and almighty. I need a God who is deeply relational – a God who walks with me
in my pain. I need a God who creates and redeems and sustains. I need a God who
loves me unconditionally, yet challenges me to grow into the child of God He
would have me be.
And this is the God we meet in Jesus Christ. John’s gospel
begins, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word
was God.” Think about this sentence for just a minute. In the beginning God was
not alone. The Word was with God. But more profoundly than that, God was still
one. The Word was God. John is opening our eyes to one of the most incredible
truths about our God. Our God is and has always been deeply relational. While
John is focusing on God the Father and God the Son, we know our God as Triune –
we know that in the beginning God the Spirit was also present – the Spirit who
intercedes with sighs too deep for words.
It is this God who made a covenant with us through Abraham.
It is this God who led us out of slavery in Egypt. It is this God who sent us
prophets and teachers. It is this God John speaks of when he writes, “and the
Word became flesh and lived among us.” From the beginning this God has actively
pursued a relationship with us. That’s how much God loves us.
In the book The Shack
the Trinity is visualized as three persons – Papa, Jesus, and Sarayu. The main
character, a man named Mack, is sitting at breakfast with God, listening to
them talk. I love the way the author describes the scene: “It wasn’t what they – Papa, Jesus, and Sarayu –
were talking about that captured Mack, it was how they related. He had never seen three people share with such
simplicity and beauty. Each seemed totally aware of the others rather than of
himself.” That’s quite an image of love and intimacy!
Mack comments: “I love the way you treat each other. It’s
certainly not how I expected God to be.” God asks, “How do you mean?” Mack goes
on: “I know you are one and all, and that there are three of you. But you
respond with such graciousness to one another.” After further discussion, God
explains, “We are a circle of relationship, not a chain of command... What
you’re seeing here is relationship without any overlay of power” (Young, The Shack (Newbury Park: Windblown Media, 2007), 126-7).
This picture of genuine relationship within the Trinity – of
love that is constantly focused outward without any power dynamics or selfish
thoughts – is a picture of the relationship God longs to have with us. “And the Word became flesh and lived
among us.” God so longs to be in an intimate relationship with us! Just think
of it – God the Son became a human being.
And we humans – who have always been rebellious and power-hungry and
selfish – just completely missed the incredible gift of relationship we were
being offered. Instead we crucified our Lord. I still stand in total awe of the fact that God still didn’t
give up on us – that God continued to love us unconditionally – that God still
wants to have an intimate personal relationship with each one of us. On the
third day God raised Jesus from the dead, giving us the promise of eternal life
with God. If we choose it.
No, our God is not a Deterministic God or a Deistic God. Our
God is a God of love and relationship. This is the core of God’s identity – a
God who is three in one – deeply relational, overwhelmingly loving, full of
grace and truth. Our God is so far from gray – I’d describe our God as all the
colors of the rainbow, more beautiful and more vivid than anything we could
ever imagine. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg because I have yet to
fully experience God.
So what does this have to do with Christian ethics and the
problem of suffering? Everything. Absolutely everything. A couple weeks ago we
read Psalm 139 in worship:
O Lord, you have
searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you
discern my thoughts from far away... You hem me in behind and before... It was
you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I
praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
God longs to be in relationship with you. God has been in a
deeply loving and intimate relationship with you since before you were born. It
pains God deeply to see us suffer. God weeps when we make decisions that have
painful consequences. God feels our pain when we are caught up in the chaos
that is the result of creation groaning. This life as it is was never God’s
plan for us, but through the cross and resurrection we have hope. We have a glimpse of God’s kingdom – a
glimmer of the life that is to come. Hope.
And yet, in this current age, we still experience suffering.
As Papa says to Mack in The Shack,
“Honey, there’s no easy answer that will make your pain go away...Life takes a
bit of time and a lot of relationship” (Young, 93).
Life takes a bit of time and a lot of relationship. Healing
takes a bit of time and a lot of relationship. Bringing an end to suffering in
our lives comes through a bit of time and a lot of relationship. Christian
ethics – really understanding how to faithfully respond to the issues of our
time – takes a bit of time and a lot of relationship. Time and relationship
with God. Time and relationship with one another.
Which is why the Word became flesh and lived among us. And
why the Spirit helps us in our weakness, interceding with sighs too deep for
words. And we gather to worship God, even or perhaps especially in the midst of
suffering, affirming that our God is awesome, that there’s no one like our God,
that our God is greater and stronger and higher than any other. That our God
loves us more than we could ever ask or imagine. Time and relationship.
I want to close with the words of the hymn, This Is My Father’s World. I vividly
remember hearing this song in the midst of a very dark time in my life – a time
of deep pain and discouragement. These words spoke to me powerfully, giving me
comfort and hope. The words remind me that no matter where I am in my life – no
matter how sad I am – no matter how wrong the situation is – God is with me. We
are not alone. God has an intimate relationship with His creation, God wants an
intimate relationship with me, God will never abandon me. Suffering will never
have the final word.
This is my Father’s
world. O let me ne’er forget
that though the wrong
seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s
world: why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let
the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the
earth be glad!
United Methodist Hymnal #144
