Why do bad things happen…

 

Like a one-two knockout combo punch, recent events have floored me.  First, a hugely influential mentor I once depended heavily on for guidance left his family in disgrace, and secondly and even worse, a cherished friend who suffered years of estrangement from his children after his divorce just lost his 18 year old son in a tragic motorcycle accident.  I have plenty of tears, but I have no words.

Many years ago I suffered through deep perplexing questions I couldn’t answer.  That existential crisis led me to pursue my first graduate degree where I studied Christian Apologetics. Apologetics isn’t about saying you’re sorry, it’s from the Greek word “apologia” meaning “defence,” it’s the word we see in I Pet 3:15, “always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you...”

Yet, after years of listening to lectures, reading books, and writing papers, I still hadn’t found a satisfactory silver bullet to explain all the evil and suffering in the world.  I re-read the Book of Job sometime after graduation and though it offers no explanation, I thought to myself, its conclusion sufficed.    

I am still at a loss to explain away “why” bad things happen but I still see the value in my studies.  It was one of the best courses of action I took, Seminary was life changing, it opened my eyes and expanded my mind on so many levels and I am extremely grateful for the experience, but the fact that I can’t explain away the evil that pervades this world doesn’t disprove God’s existence or His love, instead it points out in my mind our limitations.  

Whether you subscribe to the idea it’s from our misuse of our free-will or that it is built into the fabric of the cosmos to teach some esoteric lesson, like C.S. Lewis thought with his “soul-building universe” where Lewis thought sufferings developed our character, we all demand answers.  In case you were wondering, “Theodicy” is the fancy theological word for the mental gymnastics we do to justify why God allows the worst to happen -- God doesn’t ask us to make excuses for Him, nor does He need us to.

It is humbling to admit we don’t know, we don’t have an answer, we can’t explain it away.  God has His reasons, and we simply can’t comprehend those reasons.  To say God is all-loving and all-powerful yet the world is filled with evil, suffering, and a lot of pain seems like a contradiction or the ultimate cliché.  Understandably so, many people walk away from the faith or flat out reject faith based on this problem.  

You might find this interesting though.  The brightest contemporary atheists who study philosophy and debate these abstract intellectual ideas have abandoned the argument of evil to support their views, giving up on that line they themselves have concluded that pointing out ultimate evil required admitting there was a standard for ultimate good.  

Once I proudly thought I could rationalize, explain, and then offer wise words to comfort or heal pretty much any situation.  No longer.  These days I find it’s better to listen than to try to talk.  Asking those devastated “How are you doing?” is, well, not always helpful -- obviously the folks who are suffering are in pain, so that nervously asked question is more for us than for them.  Maybe instead ask, “What can I do/how should I pray -- for you?” 

Selective “do you remember when…?”

 

You already know we form better bonds with friends, quality relationships that can be closer & stronger than with those we have with people who share our DNA, folks we pick up with where we left off with even after decades apart, people who feel closer to us than our own siblings.  People who welcome us, accept us, and authentically love us for who we are — yes it’s the heart of camaraderie that beats best.  What you might not have considered, is that even people who share our last name or who know us well won’t understand us in the way some-certain friends do. 

I’ll go even further, there are stories we are part of that many people will through no fault of their own misunderstand, they simply can’t comprehend us or where we are coming from.  You will enjoy sharing certain stories only with the people who were part of the experience or who have endured similar struggles.

Our “brothers in arms” can relate when our relatives can’t.   There is something hollow in the retelling of a personal story when your audience operates from an alien perspective.   Something feels lost in the translation. You will have a greater sense of satisfaction keeping your story to yourself when you feel prompted to share it with strangers you know, they being strangers to your circumstances that is.  If you tell someone about a situation and they have no actual context to draw from or connection to the situation, you as the storyteller will feel empty and let down afterwards.  

People who have never sailed out of sight of the visible shoreline will never appreciate the tragedy of being shipwrecked. It is self-delusional to assume that our story is interesting or entertaining to those without a proper point of reference. 

This is why it is more gratifying when we start out with “do you remember when…?” with old friends. Shared stories are more satisfying when we share them with the ones who were there.   Why?  Because the struggle of the situation formed them as well.   Similarly, if I share a tough time I went through in ministry with someone who has never been in ministry, they can’t connect with me, but if I’m sharing the same story with someone who has been in ministry elsewhere , they know what I’m talking about.   

Properly understood, “inside jokes” are not engineered to alienate outsiders, inside jokes align or of you will, realign old friendships, cementing the bonds.  These days I’m choosing to be more selective with “did I ever tell you about the time…?” and instead I’m cherishing the “do you remember the time…?”

We might not be able to understand or appreciate everyone else’s struggles and the stories they tell, but we can all relate to this passage, Proverbs 14:10, “The heart knows its own bitterness, and no stranger shares its joy.”