Where is God when things hurt us badly? pt. 2

In a recent post, "Where is God when things hurt us badly?" I quoted from two important works of science fiction, which have that question as a major theme. I received more than the usual number of comments on the post (a couple of which were really about something else). Here's the last comment (so far, anyway). That comment deserves a lengthy, serious answer:

David B. Ellis said...

The whole question is WHY if God loves human beings he stands by inactive while they undergo horrible unnecessary agonies.

Such behavior is not consistent with a loving nature.

The religious skeptic is able to give a clear and credible answer to the question of why a loving God would allow such suffering:

Because he's fictional.

Theism, on the other hand, has been able to give no credible answer.

Simply restating your premise that God loves us does nothing to address this question---one of the most puzzling of issues that theism must address.

Ellis's first paragraph will do as a statement of the issue. I agree with him that this is one of the most puzzling issues that theism must address. Many others have attempted to address it, and some of them have been more successful than I expect to be. Nonetheless, I'll muse about it in this post.

The usual Christian response to the problem of pain is that given by C. S. Lewis. The theology of this question is called theodicy. I am not a theologian, nor an expert in theodicy. I have read Lewis, and some criticism of his response.

My summary of the response by Lewis is the following:

Unselfish, agape love includes a desire for independence in the objects of love.

Although God began as an all-powerful being, He chose to give up some of His power, in that some of the beings He created were given the opportunity to make choices. If they really can make choices, then one of the results is that they (and often others, even innocent others) must experience the consequences of their choices, even though God would wish that they could be protected from such consequences. If there was no possibility of bad results of their choices they wouldn't really be choices. This is similar to, say, teaching a child to drive a car. Sooner or later, such a young driver, if she has really become an autonomous driver, must drive by herself. This means that she may have an accident, injuring herself, perhaps others, and even die, or kill others. Her parent knows this, but also knows that he cannot always be there to give advice, or take the wheel. In order that the young driver be able to transport herself to work, or to college, she must be able to make her own choices while on the road. Sometimes these choices will be wrong, with terrible consequences, but not allowing her to drive would be even worse -- she would always be dependent on others. Although allowing others to make choices may lead to terrible consequences, it may also lead to wonderful consequences. The daughter may get a good job, experience a good education, and meet a good husband. The creature, created by God, may choose to follow in His steps, without being forced to do so. A God who loves very much loved enough to allow for autonomy in some of His creatures.

Humans chose to admit evil into the world. From that came sin, sickness, war, death, and all kinds of evil. God didn't want that, but He did want humans (and angels, apparently) to have the capacity to choose. These terrible consequences have come about as a result.

God's answer to human problems, caused by our bad choices, original and current, is not to remove the problems, but to offer hope, and, especially, love. The ultimate love was to take on God Himself the consequences of evil choices, paying the price for our sin by His own sacrificial death -- love in the extreme. He also offers, to those who chose to accept it, an eternal life of (apparently) unmitigated good, in His presence. Thus, His answer to the terrible problem of pain is not to take the pain away, but to impart love and hope, and, finally, Himself. As Lewis put it fictionally:

"I know now, Lord, why you utter no answer. You are yourself the answer. Before your face questions die away. What other answer would suffice?" C. S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980, p. 308. (Faces is not exactly about the problem of pain. It is more about the problem of being alive. But the answer stands.)

Ellis, and others, may say that this is no answer, and, in a way, it isn't one. Job wondered where God was when he was sitting in the ash heap, scraping his boils with broken pottery, with his family and possessions mostly destroyed. God didn't exactly answer him, but simply asked Job to compare himself with God. This was good enough for Job -- God is all-powerful (except where self-limited by the choices of others) good, and loving. Job repented of his doubt.

Christ, Himself, while on the cross, cried out "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" I suppose that He Himself was wondering where God's love was, at that time of greatest suffering. He personally experienced the consequences of my bad choices, and those of others. But He also cried out, as His last utterance, "Into your hands I commit my spirit." God's love is the answer. Hope, Love, and God Himself do not stop suffering. They don't even explain it. But they offer a way to cope, and final relief.

I have also posted again on this topic, responding to another of Ellis's comments. I thank him greatly for those comments, whether or not he finds my responses satisfactory.

Thanks for reading.

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Added Jan 21, 2008: I have come to see that there is a serious omission in my musing on this subject, which I have attempted to repair with a fourth post on the subject.