Human Suffering: Why?

Three years ago, I was asking a lot of questions about God, faith, and theology – even going so far as denying the existence of God. Nevertheless, asking those heavy questions made for a short dance with Atheism, which led to the foot of the cross, a message of grace, and a deeper understanding of what I believe and why I believe it. At that time, my pastor was talking with me about life, how intense my life has been, and if I ever pondered why me and my family go through a lot of hardship. I said, “No, I’m kind of used to it.” Today, I’m asking, “Why?”

I’ve never had much of a theology of human suffering and I stopped believing in Dispensationalism many years ago. If justification (salvation) is not about Eschatology (the end times) and God doesn’t cause our hardships, then why are some protected and sheltered, while others suffer? God must be saving us for something; if not, I don’t have a clue what I’m being saved from. Admittedly, my life has been a bit of a monsoon and it keeps raining hard and heavy – at some level I can live with this – but not today. I’ve watched people hurt, suffer, mourn, weep, die, and bleed more than I’ve ever gotten to see them blessed, smiling, laughing, and “living the dream.”

However, I’m a minister, a biblical scholar, and a theologian; therefore, I’m bound to have some view on this human suffering thing. Human suffering sucks, it’s not balanced in a socialist aspect across humanity, everyone can face hardship, and God allows it. Often, people blame God for the bad stuff in this life. Honestly, I think that’s because people don’t know why. It’s not God’s fault that my sixty-two year old father, who has more health issues than I can list, fell down a flight of stairs, breaking his back for the second time – but, it does piss me off.

Finally, I’m asking “why?” I’m tired of being “used to it.” I’m angry that I have to watch my dad slowly deteriorate every day from a chronic disease, I’m angry that this poor man has to endure a broken back – for the second time – on top of a life threatening disease, and I’m angry that someone, whom I love very much, has sacrificed everything for me; only to suffer for thirty years. In turn, I look to the God I believe to be gracious and loving, and ask a “never-ending why?” 

   

Pieces

An ego of shattered glass…

A broken mirror taped back together…

A well of tears bursting forth…

The dam walls no longer hold them….

Pieces of a failure…

Anything but glue…

Watching you take the pain…

Nothing for the walls to lean on….

 

The remains of a loser…

Held together by scars…

A blood-stained cross…

What’s left of the walls; a dirty pool called grace….

A heart of sand…

All that’s left of ground up concrete…

Yet tears rain, rain, rain…

The dam is broken…

The pool is flooding…

 Reflections of ego in the tear-covered walls….

The God Who Wasn't There: a Scholarly Response

The documentary film, The God Who Wasn’t There, by Brian Flemming makes a lot of statements, but not all of them are obvious to the film’s creator. The filmmaker is a former Fundamentalist-Christian, turned Fundamentalist-Atheist. Thus, his interpretive lens is trapped by his past and present bias; unable to see Christianity, its scriptures, its doctrines, or traditions outside of that Fundamentalist viewpoint. Strategically, the documentarian attempts to turn “Moderate Christians” and Fundamentalist Christians against one another, by claiming that Fundamentalists have it right. In the film, Flemming uses historical criticism and literary criticism to bolster his anti-theology. However, his historical criticism is weak, his literary criticism fails miserably, and he completely ignores any cultural analysis.

In a historical timeline, the documentarian refers to the time between the gospel events and the gospel recordings, as the period “everyone forgot.” He goes on to state that this was a forty year time span. As for forgetting, in the words of scholar Rowan Williams, “There is little or no trace in the first Christian decades of a Christianity unmarked by devotion to Jesus as a living agent.” In contrast to the film’s proposed 70 A.D. authorship, of the gospel accounts, and the forty year gap between events and their recordings: the first accounts of Mark could be as early as 65 A.D. (Christopher Tuckett). Additionally, Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians and Galatians were recorded around 50 A.D. (Markus Bockmuehl). Okay, so what, the film’s historical timeline is off by two, possibly three, decades; Flemming still has literary criticism.

In conjunction with the filmmaker’s weak historical criticism, there are at least three major literary criticism failures. The first, claiming that “God isn’t a moderate,” the film quotes Luke 19:27 for support, and ignores that this is the end of a parabolic text. In other words, Jesus was telling a story. The second, inferring that Paul never thought Jesus was, “on Earth,” the documentary uses a quote from a verse in the book of Hebrews. Yet, if “nobody told Paul,” why does he mention Jesus’ interaction with Peter and the twelve (1 Cor. 15:3-7)? Nevertheless, many scholars – conservative and liberal alike – indicate that we don’t know the author of the book of Hebrews.

The third fail, claims that the Gospel according to Mark was not based on history; this automatically implies that the accounts of Matthew, Luke, and John weren’t either – because the documentarian, Brian Flemming, says they all came from Mark’s account. Using the film’s position against itself – because the Synoptic Problem (Matthew and Luke) and the Two-level Drama concept (John) are too great for the scope of this post – if the events of the gospel accounts were not historical, why did non-Christian figures in history, like Josephus, mention that Jesus was put to death by Pilate? Perhaps, The God Who Wasn’t There showed up in the scholarship. Perhaps, The God Who Wasn’t There is gracious enough to redeem a trapped interpretive lens. Perhaps, The God Who Wasn’t There is no reduced God, to this “Moderate Christian.” The God who is there, died for you.


 For more thoughts on this film visit:The Logic of the Cross.

 

CFA: the Hegemony of the Human Will

There is nothing greater than the grace of God, brought forth through the cross event. Nevertheless, even in the grace of Christ’s redeeming work, we can become control freaks. “Hello, my name is Tim, and I’m a control freak.” Preachers have given sermons, Theologians have written discourses, and Apostles have proclaimed the truth; humanity is infected with a chronic illness called sin and it deceives us.

In turn, this condition of sin is nothing new. The Apostle Paul said, “For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate” (Romans 7:15, NRSV). Thus, I welcome you to CFA (Control Freaks Anonymous). As a professional grace pusher, I know that the grace of God trumps the effects of sin. As a human, I know that we live with this tension of sin and grace. The human will is “mutable” – forever changing and fickle – and cannot willingly cling to this divine promise of grace that is beyond its comprehension.

As a result, we are addicts of the sin that ails us, and the only cure is the unmerited grace of God. Translation, we are not in control, but we’re fixated on the illusion of control. Certainly, we could blame an American workaholic attitude for our false conceptions of control and perfection, but this is a symptom of a greater condition. Still, if grace is the cure, why are people, like me, control freaks? Our human will is in a state of hegemony – it perceives that it is free to do all things, through its own determination; yet, it is a slave to addiction, blind to illusions of its own creation – and this is the result of our sin condition.

However, there is hope because this hegemony is not the work of God. “Wherefore, the work of Satan is, so to hold men, that they come not to know their misery, but that they presume that they can do all things which are enjoined” (Martin Luther, The Bondage of the Will). Therefore, I confess that I am a control freak (insistent that my determination will endure the hardships of life) and only the grace of God, illuminated in the cross event, can cure my condition and heal my addiction.

This post was inspired, influenced, and "standing on the shoulders" of the words and story of a "Sarcastic Lutheran".