Polar Bears in a Snowstorm

Polar Bears in a Snowstorm

One of the classes at Chambers College this semester is honing its skills in apologetics and persuasion. The students have been watching and analyzing master debaters on the Supreme Court and from the highest echelons of government and professional life as they tackle the sticky wickets of public policy. They have also watched Christian leaders debate with atheists the existence of God. They have read many sources that should help them sharpen their own thought processes and prepare them to engage their world about their worldview.

A sticking point that has popped up more than once is “the problem of pain.” In a nutshell, it goes something like this: if there is a gracious, loving, merciful, and all-powerful creator God in charge of the universe, how can He allow so much sickness, poverty, war, disaster, injustice, etc., to come upon the people He ostensibly cares for?

Much has been written during all the centuries of human history on this topic. One of the earliest pieces of literature, the book of Job in the Bible, is a lengthy exploration of the range of human suffering and man and God’s respective roles and responses in it. Pain as a consequence of human hubris, pain as a motivation for heroic action, pain as a revealer of character (either for good or evil), pain as an obstacle to overcome: these are all themes in the world’s great stories because they are part of our common experience as human beings.

But no matter what cases, religious or secular, are made for the positive aspects of pain and affliction, some people will not be persuaded that there might be a good or a righteous reason for allowing murder and mayhem to happen in the world of men. (Isn’t it ironic that we regularly find murder and mayhem so entertaining from the safety of an armchair?)

John Horgan, who has deeply considered all of the arguments for and against the existence of God, and who articulates his views in the public arena on a regular basis has said,

“If God is all-powerful, just and loving, why then is existence so painful and unfair for so many people? …I have never encountered a satisfying solution to the problem of evil (although a psychedelic trip more than 30 years ago briefly convinced me that I had solved it).” Horgan here has merged two distinct issues into one, the problem of pain and the problem of evil. Admittedly, the two overlap, but they do not fully coincide. I am going to address pain specifically.

I do not presume to be in his persuasive league; I am not even in his persuasive universe, nor am I likely to even appear on his persuasive radar screen. But these are some thoughts on the subject that come from my experiences in life and in the field of fine arts. If you are one of the handful of people who sometimes read this blog, perhaps these ideas will encourage you or help your neighbor someday.

The real problem of pain is not that it causes us to cast doubt on the existence of a good God; the problem with pain is simply that we do not like pain. If it gets bad enough, we hate it. We especially eschew it for ourselves, but if we have an empathetic side to our nature, we hate it on behalf of others because it comes back on us in the form of reflected pain. The “fact” of pain is a “problem” because we want to get rid of it– all of it– when it is writ small in our life and when it is writ large, but usually we have little power to do so. But perhaps we can get rid of it by using it to coerce a “good God” into proving Himself by removing some of it– especially from ourselves. But as the wise old saint said to a young seeker named Cosmo, “What if God is not interested in you knowing Him in that way?” [in Warlock O’ Glenwarlock by G. MacDonald]

That we can imagine and desire an existence without pain is in itself an argument that we are created for that kind of existence. In the chapter called “Hope” in Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis wrote, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that I was made for another world.” The desire to be “pain-free” is one of those cravings that can only be satisfied outside our present existence. We can have that longing fulfilled in heaven, when it is good for us, but not now, when it would not be good for us.

Right now, however, we still have such an aversion to pain that we become like little children whining, fussing, and throwing tantrums to twist the emotional arm of an uncooperative parent. Parenthood requires the infliction of pain for a child’s health and well-being; think of unpopular eating regimens, “unreasonable” bedtimes, unstylish apparel (like boots and mitts), potentially painful doctor and dentist visits, school! Not to mention various corrective disciplinary measures.

It is not hard to see how this is analogous to our relationship to our Father in heaven. And, just as many of us conspired to run away to escape some unpleasantness at home, humanity makes many attempts to run away from our Heavenly Father for the same reason. In the spirit of the humorous slogan, “When all else fails, ask Grandpa,” Lewis astutely observes,

“What would really satisfy us would be a God who said of anything we happened to like doing, ‘What does it matter so long as they are contented?’ We want, in fact, not so much a Father in Heaven as a grandfather in heaven– a senile benevolence who, as they say, ‘liked to see young people enjoying themselves’ and whose plan for the universe was simply that it might be said at the end of each day, ‘a good time was had by all.’”
This, however, is not the way of the universe. We do not have a Grandpa in the sky: we have a Father who is trying to help us grow up into the image of our perfect Older Brother.

Growing involves growing pains, and our Father is more, rather than less, loving because He allows us those pains. As Lewis further states, “…since I have reason to believe, nevertheless, that God is Love, I conclude my conception of love needs correction.”

A popular metaphor for life in Christian literature is the unfinished piece of artwork, particularly a tapestry. On this earth, we see God’s picture only from the backside, but God sees it on the side that will someday be finished and put on display for all to see for eternity. Indeed, He drew up the plan in eternity past. The finished work has been in the mind of God since before it was even begun, and soon, He will complete the task of working it out in time and space.

I want to take the analogy a little further. Not only do we see the tapestry from the underside, each of our lives is just a tiny square centimeter on a canvas that could fill the skies. (John 21:25) Often, we cannot even understand how our few stitches relate to the square meter around us, which is our generation. Nowadays, it would probably be more meaningful to put this in terms of pixels or DPI. You might say, each of us is only a single line in a very large program.

Any scene that comes before our eyes, natural or virtual, is a combination of light places and dark places. God made our eyes to appreciate the distinctions (remember “rods” and “cones” from third grade science?). The old Italian master painters called this “chiaroscuro,” which comes from the Latin roots from which we derive the English words “clear” and “obscure”, that is, light and dark.

The scene on our metaphoric tapestry is a historical depiction– like the famous Bayeux Tapestry– only it is infinitely bigger and more beautiful. Until it is finished, the Master Artist will necessarily be making more light and dark stitches. By “dark stitches” I do not mean that God is the source of anything evil; that is not possible. (James 1:13) But God regularly redeems difficult circumstances, including the results of evil choices, and uses them for good. (Gen. 50:20)

We have all laughed at the childish joke about the student who turned in a blank piece of white paper in art class. When asked to explain his lack of creativity, the student says that it is a picture of a polar bear in a snowstorm. Sadly, that is the kind of picture many people expect a “good God” to make of them– all lights and no darks. A study recently published in the Journal of Positive Psychology concluded, “…happy people get joy from receiving; people leading meaningful lives get joy from giving to others. ‘Happiness without meaning characterizes a relatively shallow, self-absorbed, or even selfish life, in which things go well, needs and desires are easily satisfied, and difficult or taxing entanglements are avoided.’” In other words, polar bears in a snowstorm might think they are happy, but their lives lack meaning.

1SnowA framed and matted “polar bear in a snowstorm” might be good for a quick laugh, but would quickly become dull and unsightly. It is, after all, the visible marks on a page that convey meaning. What is a life of all warmth and no cold, all sun and no clouds, all dry and no rain? We call it a desert– a nice place to visit, but a hard place to live.

Life shouldn’t be a polar bear picture, but neither is it a grizzly bear at midnight– unbroken blackness. Unless we choose to live in a dark cave of sinful choices, we can expect blue skies when the clouds roll on, warm Chinooks as well as cold north winds, flowers after rain, even new channels and dramatic landscapes after floods. As King David said at the end of his earthly life,1night

“And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a morning without clouds; as the tender grass springing out of the earth by clear shining after rain.” 2 Sam 23:4
God’s tapestry is the expression of who He is, the fleshing out of all that is in His infinitely wise and creative mind. Each one of us is being crafted in His image. God serves all of His creation. How can we learn to serve if no one needs to be served? He gave up heaven to meet our eternal need. How can we learn to meet needs if no one has any needs? He suffered ultimate pain to demonstrate ultimate love. How can we learn to love sacrificially if no one needs our loving sacrifice? If God Himself had to suffer unjust pain to be experientially perfect (Heb. 5:8), how can we think we are above it?

In heaven, we will no longer be concerned about the knots, crossed threads, and loose ends of the underside of the tapestry. We won’t mind if our square centimeter had a high percentage of dark stitches. We will see them in the context of God’s beautiful design. We will live forever in awe of the completed work and the skill of the Artist, and rejoice that the few, small stitches of our lives are part of it.

I am not being flippant or cavalier in what I am saying. In many ways, this has been one of the hardest years of my life– a multi-front battle involving the deepest emotional struggles of my life, eclipsing even my year of cancer surgery and treatments 27 years ago. I cannot wave away my experience with a magic theological wand. I understand, better now than ever, what Oswald Chambers was trying to communicate in his wartime commentary on the book of Job,

“Always remain true to the facts and to the intuitive certainty that God must be just, and do not try to justify Him too quickly. The ‘juggling trick’ tries to justify God for allowing sin and war. Sin and war are absolutely unjustifiable, and yet the instinct of every Christian is– ‘I know that in the end God will justify Himself.’ Meantime you can justify Him only by a venture of faith which cannot be logically demonstrated.”

How willing was Jesus to die,

That we rebel sinners might live!

The life they could not take away,

How ready was Jesus to give.

They pierced through His hands and His feet,

His body He freely resigned;

The pains of His flesh were so great!

But greater the pangs of His mind!

No nearer we venture to gaze

On sorrow so deep, so profound;

But tread with amazement and praise

And reverence such hallowed ground.

–Joseph Swain, 1761-1796 (vs. 1,2,5)

References:

Chambers, Oswald. Baffled to Fight Better. (Grand Rapids: Discovery House Publishers, 1990 ed.) p. 69.

Horgan, John. “Can Faith and Science Coexist?” February 23, 2015 Scientific American accessed through http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/2015/02/23/can-faith-and-science-coexist/

Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity. (London: Fontana Books, 1960) “Hope”, p. 116-119.

_____ The Inspirational Writings of C. S. Lewis. (New York: Inspirational Press, 1994) “The Business of Heaven” January 10, p. 300.

Smith, Emily Esfahani. “Happiness: It’s Not All It’s Cracked Up to Be” Reader’s Digest, April 2015, p. 37.

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