Have you ever played the fantasy game, “god for a day”? I’m not referring to a computer game; it’s a mind game that I’ve played several times in my head. I usually play it after I’ve heard another news story about the horrendous evil in our world: destruction caused by war, famine, earthquakes, tsunamis. “If I were a big powerful god,” I reason to myself, “I wouldn’t let things like this happen.” Then, as I explore my solutions to the problem of evil and suffering, it begins to dawn on me: “God has put himself in an impossible situation.”
Take war for example. The temptation to sweep down from on high and stop the madness of war by crushing those who make war doesn’t sound very god-like. Such a god would only be contributing to the problem, making war against those who make war. So, when I consider the question, “God, why don’t you do something to stop this war?”—if I were god, I would say, “I didn’t start it. Why should I be the one to stop it?” Or, consider the human suffering caused by earthquakes. Certainly this is where God “messed up,” creating a world where natural disasters bring devastation. But, then again, if I were god, I would say, “earthquakes don’t kill humans. The houses they build are what kill them.” What about hurricanes? “Don’t live on the coast.” What about famine? “You mean the kind of famine resulting from war, when humans are manipulated like pawns and the losers employ a scorched earth policy? Or, do you mean the problem of hunger due to the fact that the haves refuse to share with the have-nots?” Indeed, when I play the game, I began to sound like the god who makes excuses, refusing to take responsibility for the humans I created. In my hypothetical world, whatever this “god” does to stop the madness of human suffering, at that very point he ceases to be God. And, that’s when I come to the undeniable conclusion, “I wouldn’t be a very good god.”
“Why doesn’t God show up and do something for a change?” That’s the question a friend blurted out one day when we were discussing the latest catastrophe in the world. “Maybe he already has done something,” I said, not fully realizing the implications of such a claim. If we were to ask God, “Where are you?”, perhaps he would say “Look around.”
Life: We live in a world of green and blue. We may be able to explain the color scheme of all living things in biological terms, describing the processes of chlorophyll and H2O. But, what of the sheer, irrepressible reality of life? Yes, death shows up every day. But, life always seems to eclipse what death tries to destroy. The sovereign power of life makes me wonder, “Could it be that God is staring me in the face every day?” I keep looking past the mountains and trees, animals and starry nights, trying to catch a glimpse of the divine. Maybe the fingerprints of God are right in front of me.
Beauty: The reliable gift of life may lead some of us to presume the absence of God. The mechanics of creation can certainly explain the daily rising and setting of the sun. But how do we explain the simple, pure joy of taking in the beauty of sunset? Why is there beauty? It isn’t functional. It doesn’t make the sun come up or go down. It isn’t necessary. Most of us start and end the day without noticing the swirling of colors and light that paint the sky twice a day. But, there it is. Beauty shows up every day, whether we see it or not. Why all the effort, this frivolous display of something so simple, so ordinary, yet so wonderful? Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but why should the eye behold it? And yet, every once in a while I stand slack-jawed, bowled over by the brilliance of light turning to darkness.
Hope: Why do we long for a better day? Left to ourselves—selfish creatures that we are—the ugly realities of “survival of the fittest” should lead all of us to a “doom and gloom” view of the future. After all, don’t we all, deep down in the core of our being, look out for ourselves above everyone else? And, if that is the case—that we all possess (as some have called it) a “selfish gene”—how do we explain our hope for a better world? Shouldn’t we all throw our hands up in resignation and say, “things will never get better because we know ourselves too well”? C. S. Lewis referred to this as the problem of “good.” For theists, the problem of evil and suffering is a difficult question, “God, where are you?” But, for those who do not believe that god exists, the problem of good is equally troubling. Maybe there’s a reason to believe hope springs eternal because God is.
This is one of the reasons why Christians place so much stock in Jesus. If it’s true—that Jesus is the Son of God—then God took upon himself the evil and suffering of the world. This is how God deals with the impossible dilemma of the human condition. Rather than destroy enemies, God loves them. Rather than let the world go to hell, God saves it. Hope has a face. Beauty is a person. Life is eternal because God has drawn near to us. A conversation between Jesus and one of his disciples reveals why Christians believe the ultimate answer to the question, “Where is God?” is Jesus Christ.