In the early Spring of 2025 a dear friend and I found ourselves sharing thoughts on what might be considered some of the deepest issues in faith, specifically Christian faith. I found my friend's questions and reflections to be personal, sharply-reasoned, yet universal. Perhaps you've had similar thoughts. With their permission, I share the dialog here. I suspect there will more installments. Questions from my friend, my responses, and their replies to my responses are shared here. As always, this blog reflects only my personal convictions.
Question:
I have a thought about Pastor Rick Henderson’s question on goodness... Isn't much of what makes something good simply our choice to see it as such? Perhaps not everything is overwhelmingly good, but there is always some goodness if we look hard enough. Goodness is also subjective. The phrase, "One man's trash is another man's treasure," comes to mind. So even things that are perceived as rotten to the core by some, may be perceived as salvageable and valuable to another.
Response:
I’d expect no less philosophically difficult question from you, my friend!
As Rick Henderson said in his talk, the likes of Plato and Augustine were wrestling with this issue centuries ago.
I think much of the issue is about vocabulary and language and the question of what things are arguably absolute and what things are relative, and how we can know the difference.
As you rightly point out, “good” can be very much a relative term. That’s how I think of it most of the time, just like your examples.
There is an interesting Bible passage relevant to this point, and it is a bit mysterious. It is in the Gospel account attributed to Mark, chapter 10, starting at verse 17. The Message translation puts it:
“As Jesus went out into the street, a man came running up, greeted him with great reverence, and asked, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to get eternal life?’
Jesus said, ‘Why are you calling me good? No one is good, only God.’”
The conversation then goes on to illuminate the ironic need to surrender in order to win, an idea we have discussed, and an idea central to the message of Christianity.
But, the point was that in this exchange, Jesus chose to illustrate the word “good’ as an absolute, not a relative, and an absolute defined by the character of the one God of the universe, a character not equaled by any other being. [Christian theology of the trinity of course holds that Christ, God, and God’s Spirit are co-equal and of one substance, so in essence Jesus’ question was rhetorical and he was pointing out that by calling Jesus “good” and Jesus saying that only God is truly “good”, the man was correct in calling Jesus “good”, affirming that he was the Messiah – God with us.]
So, of course you are right that “good” is generally a relative term, and I agree with that. My point here is that Jesus argued that ultimately the word “good” can be said to be reserved only as a description for the God of the universe, and by that absolute definition, no one else is good. I would agree that if the “good” standard is God, and his son when he was with us on earth in the flesh, nobody else is good. I’m sure not. Recognizing that I cannot live up to my own standards, let alone God’ standards, created the guilt problem that originally led me to accept in 1978 that Jesus had already paid for all my faults forever. When I accepted that, I became absolutely “good” in God’s eyes. That is the core message of Christianity. It is the message that God sees Jesus when he sees me.
It is interesting that I often have a similar discussion about the word “truth.” In many ways “truth” can be relative in that creative expressions in art and music can be said to be “true” and reflect “truth”, and I often apply that kind of definition of “true” to the many kinds of literature collected in the Bible. I have blogged about this because it is important to understand the ways that the words of the Bible can be understood as being true. In my blog post
https://jim-maher.blogspot.com/2021/12/words.html
I talk about being cautious in our understanding of the Bible, recognizing that its truth is very often in the sense that art or music is true. That is different from the way that mathematics is “true” and 2+2 absolutely equals 4. On the other hand, there are sections of biblical narrative that purport to be eyewitness accounts and are intended to be taken as true in an absolute way different from creative artistic expression. Thus, like the word “good”, the word “truth” can be both relative and absolute. As you can tell, I think it is important to think hard about relative and absolute for both words.
What do you think?
Reply to response:
As always, I appreciate your thoughtful response to my question. I'm sure it's just the scientist in me, but for every question to which I find a satisfying answer, twenty new questions arise. For a long time, my skepticism (which believers would more likely call pessimism), prevented me from exploring religion in a meaningful way. When I first reached out to you many months ago about it, I nearly quit my exploration early on, because there were so many points I didn't agree with, couldn't find an acceptable answer to, etc. I thought of you, whose skepticism I greatly admire, and realized your faith may not be so different from science in your eyes.
In science, we have far more questions than answers, often disagree as a community, discover our data and the subsequent interpretations were flawed, etc., but that doesn't mean we no longer believe in science... We accept with grace and humility that we know very little about science in the grand scheme of things, but that we shall remain faithful to it as a concept nonetheless. Our lack of understanding, frequent doubts, and mistakes don't hinder our trust in it as a field. Science is simply a foundation; each new discovery is a brick we add. Sometimes, the entire thing seems to collapse, but even when that occurs, the foundation is still standing, ready to be built upon again and again. I kept going with the idea that perhaps faith is similar, a foundation that many build their lives on. Sometimes all the bricks topple over, but the foundation remains, like science. I am glad I've kept going thus far.
Regarding your thoughts on what "good" truly means in the context of today, I think we are on the same wavelength as fellow writers. I'm sure more than one person has been annoyed at my fixation on semantics. I learned from a young age that words hold great power, both to hurt and to help, and that created a sense of responsibility to find the best word, whenever possible.
I appreciate the verse from Mark you shared. I can see how the interpretation by readers, and those in the story, could vary. The man may not even have been calling Jesus good... "Good Teacher" could be interpreted at least three ways:
The man is indeed calling Jesus both good and a teacher, with "good" not being an adjective of "teacher" here. They are independent. In this case, the man is expressing that he knows Jesus to be both good and a teacher.
The man is calling Jesus a "good
teacher", with "good" being the adjective of teacher. In this
case, the man is implying that Jesus is simply good at his job, teaching.
The man is calling Jesus a good teacher, a
teacher of good. In the same way you would call someone a science teacher, math
teacher, etc. In this case, the man may not be implying that Jesus IS good, but
that he is a teacher OF good.
Your thoughts on truth really resonate with me, as I have had many of the same questions regarding the Bible. In science, we publish papers, groundbreaking ones, that turn out to be incorrect... We make discoveries that rock the field, that turn out to be incorrect. At the time, we view them as fact, because we have not yet looked at the problem through the correct lens and have not interpreted the data correctly. What if we have done the same thing with religious texts? What if our interpretations are yet to be correct and are only getting more off base as time progresses? What if elements of the Bible we interpret as fact are not and elements we interpret as analogies, hyperboles, etc. are indeed fact? I certainly agree that for nearly every word, both a relative and an absolute interpretation can be held.
As always, I never mean to inundate you with questions or offend. Just too curious for my own good.
New question:
One of the concepts with which I have struggled most, which probably won't come as a surprise, is the concept of God's role in human suffering. Particularly in the context of diseases that result in great pain and/or are ultimately fatal, I have struggled to understand why an all-powerful God would allow such an experience. What I most struggle with is what seems like contradictory claims about God on the topic. It's my understanding that God is all-powerful, meaning He has the ability to prevent or heal certain ailments, but as we both know, he doesn't do that. I struggle to understand why God would allow a young child to suffer and die of cancer. I've also frequently heard that we are each designed exactly as God intended and that God does not make mistakes. While I certainly don't believe God "gives" people cancer out of spite or punishment, if God's design of you includes multiple genetic mutations that make it certain you will get cancer... did he not have a hand in it? Could he not have prevented it? I struggle to understand why God's answer to some pleas for help is “no.” I also don't understand the concept of God giving someone an ailment in order for His light to shine through them. The story of the blind man in the Bible comes to mind…that he was born blind so that others will come to know Jesus through Him. This seems selfish on God's part. While some may not mind being blind, others find it immensely difficult to cope with their blindness. It seems selfish to bestow upon someone a disease, disability, or immense hardship simply so others may come to have faith.
People who often mean well will say things like “God wouldn't allow you to go through this trial if He did not know you could handle it” or, “it's all part of God's plan.” I feel those things are very easy to say when you are not the one suffering. Those phrases don't feel helpful when your pain and exhaustion cause you to cry every day. In summary, since my thoughts were probably a mess here, I don't understand what God's role in disease and suffering truly is. If He is all-powerful and everything is according to His plan, does He determine whether one gets sick and whether they are "healed"? If not, if He has no role in whether someone becomes ill, then everything we experience is NOT according to His plan, correct?
Response:
My friend, you have restated, eloquently, among the very deepest questions that challenge any philosophy that is based on faith in one or more powerful deities – the problem of suffering, especially what I might call “innocent’ suffering. This is the kind of suffering experienced by animals and by those who inherited genetic disease predisposition, including the youngest or even unborn children.
How can I have faith in, and love for, a God who apparently superintends a universe where there is at least one planet full of messes, obviously unfair suffering, and pain shared by so many living creatures, including us humans?
The great philosophers and apologists have devoted lifetimes to struggle toward some way to make sense of this paradox….and it is a paradox.
C.S. Lewis wrote a lengthy, thoughtful, complex, and dense book The Problem of Pain on this subject. I wish it were an easier read. Lewis was a university professor and his writing can be complex. What is unique about Lewis, like Tolkien, however, is that they both loved to write fantasy fiction that embodied some of their deep theology. In fact, as you may have read, it was challenges from Tolkien (a Roman Catholic and friend of Lewis) that formed a main impetus for Lewis to re-examine what had become his atheism, and return not just to a belief in God, but specifically to a belief in the Christian God. I honestly would have loved to have heard those conversations over pints of beer at the Oxford pub that my wife and I happened by last spring at a science conference.
Sometimes I think I most appreciate the way CS Lewis approached his thoughts about Christianity through my reading to my daughters of The Chronicles of Narnia, especially The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, where Lewis retells the ancient Christian story by analogy, with Aslan the lion showing us both Christ and God himself. I admit that Lewis’ story of the death of Aslan on the stone table, and Aslan’s resurrection with the help of tiny mice, touches me as deeply as the actual story of Jesus’ death and resurrection reported in the Bible.
I mention this because of its relation to the problem of understanding pain and struggle and imperfection in our world. Lewis’ famously writes about Aslan: Lucy asks, "Is He safe?" "Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
Mr. Tumnus later says, "He's wild, you know. Not a tame lion."
Lewis is speaking to our expectations of what God “should” be like, what we want him to be like, and what we think would be fair and just. Lewis is challenging the idea that we get to decide if God’s patterns in creation, and the way he relates to his creation, are fair and beautiful (and tame) enough to earn our faith. Your thoughtful note amounts to honestly saying that your perceptions of God’s patterns in creation, and the way he relates to his creation are NOT fair, and NOT beautiful enough to earn your faith. I get it. We don’t like a God who is not tame.
That is an incredibly honest position, and I respect it.
So what would I say?
I think of time and space and our tiny planet in this universe we inhabit (probably just one universe in a blindingly complex multi-dimensional multiverse) as the stage for an epic story, authored by God in a mysterious way where free will is a central attribute given to humans. This free will has resulted in catastrophe after catastrophe. No, I don’t blame inherited mutations on bad human free will choices, but I see all of the mess on this planet as part and parcel to a disaster playing out as part of the epic plot.
Sounds pessimistic, doesn’t it?
But there in the middle of this disaster has been placed a rescue story. THE one most fantastic rescue story
The whole plot of the whole epic story has been written for one reason: to point to this rescue story.
In fact, I believe our timeless God wrote the epic to be played out in time and space in order that the rescue story could be told. To me, this fallen world where children suffer innocently, and wars are fought selfishly, and pride grows ever greater in me is a story line written from the very beginning to set the stage for the rescue story.
In my view, our God is first and foremost the great rescuer.
I have argued that the peacefulness of the Garden of Eden was never intended to be the plot of this epic story. It was boring. God endowed us with free will knowing that our pride would trigger catastrophe after catastrophe. He knew full well before time began that what would unfold on this planet would involve unfairness and animals suffering and dying and children (and young women) crying in pain every day because of disease that is no fault of their own.
He knew where the mess and suffering would lead, yet he still set it all in motion.
He set it all in motion because in the plot there is something that is so unsurpassingly beautiful that awaits us all in the end.
The rescue story is so transcendently beautiful that it is capable of drowning out and even erasing all the screams, all the tears, all the anguish, all the suffering ever experienced –silencing it. Making it nothing.
We live in a story of disaster written because it sets the stage for a rescue that would make no sense without the full depths of this hopeless mess.
You thoughtfully quoted Jesus reminding his followers that human suffering (in the case of the blind man) is not always attributable to punishment for, or consequences of, human pride. Sometimes blindness is just part of this mess. Like germline chromosomal deletions.
I would offer that the greater insight about God’s relationship to his creation comes from two aspects reported in the Gospels in the Bible recording his time with us when he, effectively the author of the epic story, briefly wrote himself into the plot as Jesus.
The first aspect is that Jesus loved to heal people. The Gospels are filled with those stories as you well know. He was fully capable of healing and he loved to do it. Physical healing is a small taste of the real relationship healing Jesus ultimately came to accomplish. He still is capable of physical healing, which is why I pray for his physical healing in your life.
But the second, more powerful aspect of God’s relationship with his creation is seen in the Gospel of John, chapter 11, verse 35. Here Jesus is confronted with the anguish and suffering and pain of his friends Martha and Mary, and their whole village, at the death of their brother, Lazarus. Jesus did not prevent Lazarus’ death. We are told that Jesus, the author of the epic story himself written into its pages briefly, broke down and cried to see and experience the rawness of the mess of creation so poignantly displayed in the agony of these friends.
He cried.
He cried because of the suffering. He cried with the sufferers. He cried to experience the mess of his creation. He cried with us.
May I dare say it – My friend, when you are alone and frightened, hopeless, in pain in the dark, crying…
…Jesus is crying with you.
In those tears is a message to me that the terrible pain and sorrow and suffering of this messy world hurt God every bit as much as they hurt us. They represent the core of the necessary disaster that set the stage for the epic rescue, a rescue that is and will be so awesome as to drown out all memories of what came before.
God wrote the story outside of time, and I take solace and joy in believing that he has always known that it is such a wonderful, beautiful story...in the end. It always has been. The ending is so amazing that all else will drop away in insignificance. He would not have started time had he not known the beauty of its culmination.
That makes me the ultimate optimist, perhaps.
I write this with all attempts at due respect for the unfair and inexplicable suffering you experience that I cannot imagine.
Yet I remind us both that God chose to write his rescue story ironically, because the rescue involved God’s own decision to willingly suffer in our place, once and for all, on the cross, unjustly, even meaninglessly, to erase all of the debts and imperfections of everything that has ever or will ever have lived. That rescue has now been accomplished in principle, but we experience just a hint of it on this side of eternity.
The real rescue is just on the other side waiting for us.
I would not doubt that you may have countless objections to my view and may even find that it is sadistic to justify a beautiful ending by creating such catastrophic and meaningless suffering by so many for so long. I have no convincing answer to such an objection.
I will leave you with another quote from Lewis before I go:
“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”
These emails are evidence that you have been well roused.
Reply to response:
In my search for God's role in disease and suffering, it also occurred to me that His allowing such things to occur or even ordaining them would not render Him unworthy of devotion in my eyes; it would not necessarily turn me away from faith. I could accept and understand His justification if I found it to be reasonable. In my eyes, God does not have to earn my devotion. I simply feel the devotion must be justified. As you pointed out, His justification for the suffering we experience may be that it will all be irrelevant to us in the end due to the reward being so great once our journey on earth is complete. If that's true, I suppose it's not dissimilar to how countless mothers feel after the discomfort of pregnancy and pain of childbirth. Even those who have miserable pregnancies followed by complicated, painful births, frequently express that the stress and memory of it all became so small and insignificant the moment they held their child for the first time.
In the case of children, mothers likely don't doubt that the journey will be worth it, even in the worst moments, because they know what they are receiving at its conclusion. They know they will receive something beautiful and tangible for their effort. Maybe we struggle to see the painful aspects of human life because we are not capable of truly understanding the reward, or as you put it, rescue, that occurs in the end. We hope and we speculate, but we don't truly understand. If that's true, it seems obvious why it is called "faith". One must trust that all will be well in the end. I'm reminded of the phrase, "Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."
I am familiar with C.S. Lewis and know the titles of many of his works, but I have not read them myself. They certainly sound intriguing from your descriptions of them and from the excerpts you shared.
In regards to healing and the concept of miracles, I also don't believe that a physical cure, which would be an obvious miracle, should be our only definition of the word. Thinking back to our discussion on whether good is absolute, relative, or both, I think we have come to only perceive events as miracles if they are grand. It must be bigger and better than anything we could have imagined in order for us to consider it a miracle. To me, that is flawed and robs us of seeing the beauty and grace that fill our everyday lives. To me, meeting you was a miracle. Meeting other dear friends was a miracle. Ending up at this institution just a few months before diagnosis was a miracle. Being able to comfort a young child before their brain surgery by letting them touch the scars from my own brain surgeries was a miracle. So many stars had to align for each of those events to occur. Despite having a physical battle that seems to deliver a new horror daily, I am incapable of seeing my circumstances as unfortunate or unfair. I feel my life has been full of miracles, so even if, for argument's sake, we want to call the entire experience of cancer all bad, one bad apple does not spoil the barrel.
New question:
I have also wondered what Christianity's view on achieving eternal life is for people who will never have the opportunity to even learn about Jesus. I imagine this is a question everyone has. If the fabric of one's life never affords the opportunity to learn about Jesus and become a follower, how is possible that they may not be afforded eternal life, if God Himself controlled the circumstances of their life? If someone is raised in a different culture with a different religion, and they live an honest life in which they are a devoted parent, a faithful spouse, and a loyal friend, how is it possible that they may not be granted eternal life simply because Christianity was not the faith they chose? Given how many religions there are, it also seems statistically impossible (nearly) that one could pick the "right" one. So, how does one find the conviction to feel and say that they were lucky enough to find the one true path to salvation? Of course, I know the argument would be that it is not "luck", but again, why would God not ensure that all paths lead to Him? If above all, God is a rescuer, let's picture Him as a life raft. Stick with me. Let's say that life raft is the one and only one capable of rescuing us from the storm in the end. If every religion believes the same to be true for themselves, they also have their own life rafts. If that is true, each religion asserts that the life raft of every other religion has a hole in it. It will sink and a rescue will not be successful. How do we pick the one life raft (religion) that doesn't have a hole in it when they all appear to be similar. They make similar promises, preach similar principles, etc. By the time we would discover that we picked the wrong raft, it may be too late. Does God extend grace in those circumstances?
Response:
My answer to your deep and appropriate question about how God’s rescue can extend to all of our planet, and all its creatures, and all human souls that will ever have lived, past, present, and future, is probably a different answer than you might hear from other Christians or Christian teachers. It doesn’t make me right or wrong, it means that there is a wide range of opinion on how God’s rescue works. Much of the range of opinion depends, unsurprisingly, on how we understand the concept that that Bible is inspired, and what it means to say that it is inspired.
I believe that God’s mercy, love, and patience with his creation vastly exceed anything we can imagine. I believe that all souls and beings, human, and animals to the extent that animals have self-awareness will meet Jesus Christ at their death and, whether they have met Jesus Christ in this life or not, they will meet him then and be enabled to understand the free rescue gift that he offers based on his death and resurrection. I don’t take literally Bible passages that tend to suggest that accepting Christ’s death and resurrection as payment for our imperfections must occur before death or else the deal is void.
The verse from St. Paul that is read at the end of every worship service at our church says:
“One man died for everyone. That puts everyone in the same boat. He included everyone in his death so that everyone could also be included in his life, a resurrection life, a far better life than people ever lived on their own.”
I can’t help but note the repetition of the word everyone in this translation. Jesus’ death and resurrection are sufficient to pay for the imperfections of all souls who will ever have lived. I believe his offer of grace is made evident to every soul that has ever lived, regardless of culture or timing (whether their life is before or after the actual life and death of Christ) and regardless of whether that soul heard the message here on this side of death and accepted it or not.
I choose to believe that all will ultimately be offered the opportunity to freely accept Jesus’ gift of rescue.
Some of us will recognize our savior at the moment of death, others will need to be introduced for the first time to him and the rescue he offers. Those who have not previously understood or accepted his gift will then have the choice. God’s grace is far deeper than we can imagine. His love and patience far beyond anything humans have experienced.
Our friend C.S. Lewis argues that even if my aspiration is true, there may still be some whose pride and self-satisfaction would make them miserable accepting the rescue offered by Jesus. Lewis believed that some souls will choose to go it alone in the next life. He didn’t believe in a hell based on torment, rather a hell of grey separation and boredom inhabited by souls disinterested in acknowledging a king of the universe and his offer of redemption. Of course, I have a hard time imagining those whose stubbornness would be that great, but Lewis felt that those with such a rebellious attitude would never enjoy heaven with Jesus anyway, and Jesus would not impose it on them.
I am not a “universalist” in that I don’t hold that all souls automatically end up with God in heaven at death. Rather, I believe that all souls will be given the opportunity to understand the free gift offered by Jesus, and the chance to accept it once and for all, either here on this side, or on the other side of death. It will be a free gift, offered not because we are good, but because he is good. The concept of free will – that each soul can and must decide for herself whether to accept, and that God will not force himself on anyone, appears the central concept in the epic story God has written for this planet in this universe.
3.2025
