God of all comfort?

Richard Beck, author of the Experimental Theology blog, recently ran a fascinating series of essays on why people believe in God, evaluating the theories of Sigmund Freud and William James.

Freud, in his book "The Future of an Illusion" described faith as a sort of psychological narcotic, a way that some people deal with the pain and futility of existence. James, on the other hand, argued in "The Varieties of Religious Experience" that not all those who have faith find it a comfort. For some, faith creates as many problems as it solves, and yet they continue to believe. Thus faith cannot simply be the product of wishful thinking.

Since I can't do justice to Beck's arguments, I recommend you read the articles for yourself (or at least the conclusion, which summarises the whole series.) I'd like to pick up on just one aspect of his essays. In what way is knowing God a comfort and consolation? While not in any way denying that evil and suffering are the direct result of human sinfulness and the work of Satan, I've often struggled with the question "But didn't God himself create human beings and Satan?"

God is good. I know this from scripture and from experience. But he is also the all-knowing creator of everything, including human beings and Satan. So isn't he ultimately responsible for the existence of suffering and evil? Didn't he know, before he began the work of creation, what human beings and Satan would become? Didn't he know in advance about every war, every famine, every disease, every disaster that would happen throughout history?

If he knew David and Jeremiah before they were even conceived, didn't he also know Hitler and Pol Pot? Didn't he see Auschwitz and the Cambodian killing fields before time began? Surely he must have known in advance about every unkind word, every abuse, every mean-spirited action of ours that would add to the store of evil and suffering in the world.

Yet he still chose to create this world. Which seems to leave me with three options. I can choose to ignore such questions and have a neat and tidy faith that says " Satan and sin are the source of all evil, God is the source of all goodness and comfort." This can lead to a form of dualism that glosses over many uncomfortable verses of the Bible about God's involvement in suffering and catastrophe.

Secondly, I can reject the whole idea of God and, like Freud, decide that faith is just a form of wishful thinking. Read Richard Beck if you want to see why this doesn't work.

Or I can try to come to terms with the fact that the God whom I know as good is nevertheless the one who permits the existence of evil and suffering. God is light, but he created a world which would become full of darkness. Such a God is not always a comfort and a consolation. Sometimes he's frighteningly unknowable, dreadfully distant.

When I read the Bible, and the Old Testament in particular, I encounter this God almost as often as the God of grace and peace. Think of Job. Think of Jeremiah and the other prophets. Think of Jesus in Gethsemane.

But perhaps there's another way to look at this, using my own experience as an analogy. When I chose to have children, I knew that no matter how good a parent I tried to be, those children would inevitably experience suffering, pain, grief, loss, and all the other evils that are common to human life. Sometimes I would even be the cause of their pain. How do you explain to a child the need for discipline? How do you explain that some painful medical procedure is being done for their good?

I also knew before they were born that they would surely cause me pain and suffering at some time, through their words and actions. Being a parent would be costly in many ways. Despite my best intentions, they might turn away from me and ignore me. They might even turn around and curse me for having given them birth.

Yet knowing all this, I still chose to become a parent because it was worth it. And perhaps in that is a hint at why God chose to create this world, despite knowing exactly how much evil and darkness would be mingled with goodness and light. Because, for some reason, it was worth it.

There's another aspect to being a parent that tells me a lot about God. Before I had children, I knew that if and when they suffered, I would suffer too, because love is like that. But knowing this wasn't enough to prevent me from wanting to share my love and the good things of my life with children of my own. Fortunately my children have been relatively healthy and happy, and have caused me little grief. Even so, I've come to know what it is to be in anguish with them and for them when they've been sick or distressed, disappointed or misused.

As a created being I don't and can't know why God created the world with all its attendant evil. But I know enough about him to know that his reasons were good and the cost to him was great. Faith is not denying the reality of evil, but trusting that God has his reasons for allowing evil to exist for a time and he will not let us be overcome by it. Faith is believing that one day we too will be able to say "It was worth it."

Questions about unanswered prayer

What should we do when our prayers seem to go unanswered? Sadly, we often just shrug our shoulders and get on with life. We forget about this prayer and move on to the next one. Our response suggests either that we didn't really care about what we were praying for, or that we don't really expect God to answer our prayers. Either way, we're not praying with the sort of faith that cries "Why, O LORD, do you stand far off?" (Psalm 10.1) or "How long, O LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen? (Habakkuk 1.2) . Unanswered prayer ought to raise questions in our minds.

Another unhelpful response is to try to conjure up more faith in ourselves when we pray. We try to put ourselves into some state of mind where we're "just believin' that it's gonna happen." This isn't faith in God, it's faith in faith.

A third response is to rationalise. A while ago I read a piece by an atheist mocking Christian's who say "God's answer to prayer may be 'Yes', 'No' or 'Wait'." As he pointed out, you could pray to a bottle of milk and expect to get the same responses. If what you prayed for happened immediately, the bottle's answer is 'yes', if it happened later the bottle's answer is 'wait', and if it never happens, the bottle has answered 'no'. You haven't left any option for saying 'the bottle hasn't answered my prayer'. While there was a major flaw in his argument (no bottle has ever spoken and promised to hear and answer prayer) it has some truth in it.

Of course God does sometimes answer 'no' to our prayers. Sometimes we do have to wait. But I think we should only conclude that the answer is 'no' or 'wait' if God gives us some clear indication to that effect. Other rationalizations include "I'm not a good enough Christian" and "God must be testing me". Again, I think unanswered prayers should raise questions in our minds, but we rationalise when we think out answers to our own questions (or those of other Christians) rather than bringing our questions to God.

Asking "Why, O Lord, do you stand far off?" is not impertinent, if we're prepared to listen to the answer. So along with "Why?", we might prayerfully ask:

Is what I'm praying in line with God's will as he has revealed it in scripture?
Can I really say "In Jesus' name" after this prayer?
Am I doing anything that might be preventing God from answering my prayer? (Of course we're all doing things that are not what God desires, but let the Holy Spirit show you if there is anything specific.)
Is there anything I should be doing? (Again, be guided by the Holy Spirit. This has nothing to do with trying to think up ways to impress God.)
Do I trust that God loves me and has my best interest at heart, even if my prayer is never answered the way I'd like it to be?

The last question is probably the most difficult to answer, and ironically, one that becomes easier to answer positively as our experience of unanswered prayer increases.