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christian counseling today
Vol. 21 no. 2
A
tailor prayed, “Lord, I cheat
on pieces of cloth; you let
babies die. But I am going to
make you a deal. You forgive
me my little sins and I’ll forgive you your
big ones.”
Renowned Christian author, ethicist
and theologian, Lewis Smedes, included
that haunting anecdote in his impor-
tant little book,
Forgive and Forget
.
1
He
uses it to call attention to a concept that
might be more comfortable to ignore,
theodicy
2
and the problem of pain—or
more to the heart of the matter, what is
the impact of our pain and suffering on
the way we view God?
We are promised pain in this world
(John 16:33), but can we find the prom-
ise of a loving God in the pain? Trying
to find a personal answer to that ques-
tion is one of the reasons Smedes’ story
has stuck with me through the years. I
read it while still reeling in the pain and
confusion caused by the death of my
best friend and cousin, Chuck, who died
tragically at age 21. He was a young
man sprinkled with star dust, having a
brilliant mind, amazing musical talent,
and an adoring girlfriend. His shocking
death almost killed my uncle… and it
wounded a lot of people’s faith.
While my uncle was in the midst of
a living hell, several “counselors” tried
to help. Three were memorable, in part
because each was speaking from one
of the classic theodicies—Augustinian,
Irenaean, and Kushnerian. Each meant
well.
An Augustinian comforter—based
on the early theologian and philosopher
whose writings influenced the develop-
ment of Western Christianity—who was
my uncle’s pastor at the time, encour-
aged him to blame sin and the fall for
what happened, but not God. It seemed
to my uncle that the primary motivator
for that helper was to relieve the Creator
of any responsibility for the existence
of evil.
3
The blame was placed, instead,
squarely on the shoulders of dependent
beings who have misused their free-
dom. Much talk was made of “the fall”
and “original sin,” as evil and tragedy
were renamed based on philosophical
justifications.
To my uncle, the chasm dug by the
Augustinian apologist—between the
God who continues to make creatures
who are cursed and the God of love and
comfort so often described by Jesus—
seemed so great that he could not
imagine crossing it during that time of
dark suffering.
An Irenaean counselor—based on
the second-century theologian and
philosopher, Irenaeus, who defended the
concept of an omnipotent and omnibe-
nevolent God—who was the hospital
chaplain, assured my uncle that, “There
is always a purpose in everything that is
allowed to happen; and there is always a
good and justifiable reason. You will see
much good come from all this in time.”
An Irenaean type of theodicy stands
in marked contrast to the Augustinian
type. There was no attempt to relieve
God of the responsibility of evil. The
main motivating interest seemed to be
showing my uncle that while God is
fully in charge, evil also exists for good
and justifiable reasons. Just as the body
of an athlete is strengthened through the
pain and stress of rigorous exercise, the
soul can only mature in an environment
that permits pain. No pain, no gain.
To say the least, the words of this
comforter left my uncle cold. He felt the
young man was minimizing his present
pain while asking him to look through
his profound grief and catch a glimpse
of the future good. Surely a man bleed-
ing from the stumps of two amputated
legs would not be expected to ignore his
pain and experience joy at the news that
someday prosthetic procedures will pro-
vide him with new legs that allow him
to dunk a basketball.
The third helper could have been
called a Kushnerian—after Rabbi
Kushner, who penned the popular
book,
When Bad Things Happen to Good
People
. He wrote the book as a result of
living a personal nightmare from watch-
ing his son die—of old age—before he
was 15. His son suffered from
progeria
,
a rare congenital abnormality character-
ized by premature and rapid aging.
The Kushnerian comforter said to
my uncle words very similar to these.
“I heard about the terrible tragedy. It’s
horrible. Senseless. As someone who is
also a Christian—and who recently lost
a son—I just wanted to leave you with
a few words that will, hopefully, be of
comfort. God is not perfect. He has let
you down by permitting this tragedy.
But never, not for a second, think that
He doesn’t love you. Although He can’t,
or at least doesn’t, stop tragedy, He loves
you deeply.”
This theodicy is appealing. It is
aimed at the heart. The focus is not
on the responsibility of either God or
humanity. A strong case is made for
the randomness or naturalistic origins
of much evil. What is primary is our
reaction
to tragedy. It is “the ability to
forgive and the ability to love [that] are
the weapons God has given us to enable
us to live fully, bravely.”
4
So much of Kushner’s thesis is invit-
ing that it is doubly distressing that he
leaves us with something less than God.
Whereas the Augustinian and Irenaean
positions go through elaborate gyrations
in an attempt to preserve both God’s
goodness and power, Kushner is willing
to sacrifice God’s power on a cross that
will not tolerate paradox and mystery.
If the Augustinians err in overempha-
sis on the past, and Irenaeans err in
«
Gary W. Moon, Ph.D.
reflections
Finding God in the Midst of Pain and Suffering