Consider the following statements: (1) There is a God . . .

Consider the following statements: (1) There is a God; (2) God is all-powerful; (3) God is loving and just; (4) There is innocent suffering in the world.  Most Christians would see this as a list of obvious truths—a set of givens, if you will.  Of course there is a God; and of course the God who raised Jesus from the dead and defeats the forces of sin and evil is all-powerful; and of course God is loving and just; and of course there are occasions in life when people suffer tragic and horrible things through no apparent fault of their own.  All of these assertions are true!

However, since the mid-eighteenth century, people have increasingly questioned whether, logically speaking, these claims can all be true at the same time.  That is, if God is all-powerful, then surely God can intervene and prevent the suffering of innocent people.  And if God has the power to do so, but chooses not to (deciding instead to watch passively as the innocent suffer), then one is hard-pressed to see how such a God can rightfully be called loving and just.

In a nutshell, this is known as the theodicy problem.  Some have argued that it is an impossible conundrum, and that the only option is to give up one of these truth claims.  But which one would we be willing to forfeit?  The belief in the existence of God?  The goodness of God?  The power of God?  Or should we simply close our eyes and pretend that there is no such thing as innocent suffering in the world?

In 1981 Rabbi Harold Kushner published his best-selling book When Bad Things Happen to Good People.  What prompted Kushner to write the book was a personal tragedy.  His son Aaron, just three years old at the time, was diagnosed with progeria, a rare and universally fatal genetic disease which has, among its other symptoms, the appearance of rapid aging.

When faced with the undeserved suffering and subsequent death of his son, Kushner found himself unable to reconcile a God who is all-powerful with a God who is also loving and just.  After wrestling with the matter for some time, Kushner finally concluded that, if he had to give up one of these two truths, he would relinquish the claim that God is all-powerful.  As he explains, “I can worship a God who hates suffering but cannot eliminate it, more easily than I can worship a God who chooses to make children suffer and die, for whatever exalted reason.”

While there is much to admire in Kushner’s book—particularly his courage and candor—I wonder if what we really need is a clearer understanding of the affirmation that God is all-powerful.  Perhaps, in the same way that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, the nature of God’s power is also radically different.  What if God does intervene like a mighty warrior against the forces of evil and death, but not as a warrior who fights in the manner that a human combatant would?  What if God’s very character demands that this battle be waged solely with the weapons of love and compassion?

Unlike Kushner, I continue to believe that God is all-powerful.  But it is the power of a love that takes the form of weakness rather than strength.  Indeed, it is a power expressed most profoundly, and most dramatically, on the cross!