The problem of evil and other cheery things

Or, why you shouldn't focus on one realm of theology at the expense of the others.

 

In keeping with what has become the confessional nature of this blog, there are two things I must admit to from yesterday:

1. My mind wandered in chapel.
2. I'm glad it did.

For a year now, the problem of evil has been randomly plaguing my mind. Depending on each person, there are some things which are easier to obey God in than others. For example, as an individual who has gone on record for thanking a cop for a license plate citation, fits of rage generally aren't my problem. But when it comes to verses like, "The secret things belong to the Lord our God," my reaction is typically: "BUT WHY DO THERE HAVE TO BE SECRET THINGS?!!??!?!" Without much more of an explanation for the reason God let evil exist than, "It's for His glory," Sarah, who operates on logic and reason, breaks down. I am my namesake.

Enter ROMANS 9.

 

At the same time, I am a good sober Calvinist. Namby pamby angst at not being included in the inside information of God's providence gets answered with "who are you, O [wo]man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, 'Why did you make me like this,' will it?" God, who is, well, God, has this figured out. Quit whining.

 

While all of this theology is correct, my attitude began to move in a dangerous direction. Without realizing it, my view of my relationship with God began to take on keywords such as  "stoic," 'detached," and "cold."

 

Enter CHAPEL.

 

Bad Christian alert: I don't remember what the speaker was saying. But somehow it got me thinking about all of the above. In the midst of all that, this suddenly dawned on me:

 

A detached, cold God, who arbitrarily allows evil into the world He created would not send His son into it to die an excruciating, cosmically-humiliating death in order to redeem us from said evil. He would not personally involve Himself.

And so we come back to the essence of the Gospel, and the need to daily remind ourselves of the reality of all that Christ has done for us. When you focus on God's sovereignty and meanwhile forget to dwell on His lovingkindness, you end up crying in a parking lot for an hour over the apparent meaninglessness of the crap which has happened (or that you're scared will happen) in your life*.

 

Enter SARAH, ascending SOAPBOX.

 

We rightly advocate the need for precise theology. But in doing so, we must remember that incomplete theology can be just as dangerous as the incorrect variety as well. We are not going to get by living on only half the story. God is just and God is good. He is powerful and also loving. He is Creator and Redeemer.

 

This side of eternity, we will never get a rationally-satisfying answer for the problem of evil. But the work of Christ reassures us. The words of Job, whose story essentially revolves around this problem, come to mind:

 

“As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives,
And at the last He will take His stand on the earth.
Even after my skin is destroyed,
Yet from my flesh I shall see God;
Whom I myself shall behold,
And whom my eyes will see and not another.
My heart faints within me!”

 

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*This is, of course, just an example and obviously never actually happened.