Not a real cuddly whirlwind, I think
Returning form a few days hiatus, I'd like to follow-up my question: What is God's purpose in creating a universe with suffering?
Remember John 9:3? When Jesus was asked by His disciples, "Why was this man born blind? Who's sin caused it?" Jesus replied “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him."
What does this tell us? This man was blind for his entire life up until this point. Yes, he was healed--after a lifetime of suffering. For what reason?
Remember, the question was not "Why did Jesus heal the man?", but the question was "why was the main born blind?" We can--and should--emphasize Jesus' compassion in healing the man. Nevertheless, the question is not why Jesus healed him. We get that. We know a big part of Jesus' earthly ministry was healing. No one is questioning that. But why was he born blind at all? Did he have to be born blind? When Jesus was creating the cosmos, indeed keeping the cosmos existing by His active work, did He say "I think I'll make this man who will be born blind, so I can display my work in him"? Because that sure looks like what this passage is saying.
Remember the reason gave: "That the works of God might be displayed in him." Boy, that sounds pretty tough. You mean a man can suffer for 20-30 years or so just so that "the works of God might be displayed in him?" That God actually planned that this man be born blind, stay blind all of his childhood and into his adulthood, all to "display the works of God"?
Does that sound harsh to you? Does that sound unloving, like this poor man was just a pawn in some kind of divine game, just to prove that God has power? One might ask if God's power could have been shown some other way, rather than someone going through suffering and then being relieved of it. I mean, if we acknowledge that yes, God could have insured that this man was born with seeing eyes, then we acknowledge that yes, God has a purpose in this suffering. Indeed, right here, right in this very passage (in the red letter part of the Bible, remember), Jesus claims that this guy was born blind for a purpose.
I know it is passé to say "God has a reason for your suffering." It's seen as harsh, deterministic, unloving, unpastoral, cold, unhelpful in suffering, and generally not very nice. And probably Calvinistic, too.
As I mentioned before, Job's friends felt that suffering had a purpose in Job's life--but it wasn't the reason Jesus gave. Rather, the reason they gave was "Job, you're a sinner, and God is punishing you. If you were good these things wouldn't happen to you. Repent, because you are wicked."
But God, speaking out of the whirlwind, didn't agree with Job's friends. He didn't say "Yes Job, you're a sinner, that's why I'm punishing you. Listen to them." No, he said He was angry with them; that what they said wasn't right. Job's suffering was not because of his sin, even if that would make a nice, neat theological package.
But did God tell them why He let Satan attack Job? Does God tell Job in some kind of sweet, loving way, "Oh my dear child, I did this for you. It's for your good. I have a reason for the suffering, and it's all about you, my precious son!"
Read the book--but spoiler alert: He does not. In fact, God's answer in Job 38-41 seems remarkably harsh: here is this man, who just lost all his children, all of his worldly possessions, has three miserable friends who berate him for being a sinner, and has a wife who tells him to die and get it over with--and how does God answer him? With hugs? With just a sense of peace and love, that everything's going to be alright? With soft lullabies and cuddly kittens?
No. Instead, He says, "Be a man! Listen up! Get ready for a cross-examination that I know you can't answer!"
Yes, this is in the Bible. The Bible that Jesus quoted from, said could not be broken, said testified of Him--the Bible that was written under the inspiration of His Spirit. He didn't disavow it, didn't try to minimize it or correct it.
Or did Jesus give us fluffy kittens? Was the view of God in Job an error that had to be corrected, that it was just a terrible misunderstanding of God, that He really did act more sweetly than those primitive people thought?
In a word, no. Not just no, but μὴ γένοιτο--by no means! And if you look at reality, the theist must realize this: suffering is real. Life is not fair, the righteous often suffer and the wicked often prosper. And if we acknowledge that God exists, and that yes, He created and sustains the Universe by His Word, then He deems--for whatever reason--to allow it. And, at least in some cases, to create it.
And so, once we realize this, we grow terrified. We realize how utterly, utterly feeble and foolish we are. We become like Jill, in this famous interchange in The Silver Chair:
“If you're thirsty, you may drink.”So that is our dilemma: a very, very scary Lion guards the only stream to quench our thirst. We are utterly under His power, and fear Him, fear our annihilation, our destruction of self in His all-consuming jaws. We face Him, and we face annihilation; we turn from Him, and we face oblivion.
They were the first words she had heard since Scrubb had spoken to her on the edge of the cliff. For a second she stared here and there, wondering who had spoken. Then the voice said again, “If you are thirsty, come and drink,” and of course she remembered what Scrubb had said about animals talking in that other world, and realized that it was the lion speaking. Anyway, she had seen its lips move this time, and the voice was not like a man's. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.
“Are you not thirsty?” said the Lion.
“I'm dying of thirst,” said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the Lion.
“May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the Lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the Lion.
Sorry to leave you hanging, but to be continued...
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