Why Does God Allow Suffering?
In my first post of the year, I said, “…I’m also going to loosen up a bit and talk about interesting stuff I’ve come across on the Net, or whatever happens to be on my mind.” This is a “whatever happens to be on my mind” post.
Why has the question “Why does God allow suffering?” occupied some of my mind-space this week?
1. Earlier in the week, I wrote a conversation between Jillian and Sam, two characters in the Deiform Fellowship Series, that touches on this topic (before they quickly go off on a tangent).
2. I’m reading On Guard, a book by Christian apologist William Lane Craig. In the book, he addresses the “Why does God allow suffering?” question.
3. Henry, one of our cats, had a cyst removed from her neck yesterday.
Context is Everything
Let me frame the proper context for my thoughts. The question, “Why does God allow suffering?” can be answered with, “Because God isn’t good.” Or…because God created the world and everything in it, and then moved on to something else. He doesn’t care about our world or us anymore.
We’re done here. Or are we?
When people ask, “Why does God allow suffering?” they usually mean, “Why does a loving, good God who is interested in the world and our lives allow suffering?” But that would have been too long for the post title. It is, however, the context for my thoughts.
Of course, if God doesn’t exist, then answering the question is merely an intellectual exercise. Nonetheless, it’s still an interesting question to ponder, and many atheist philosophers and theologians do just that (of course, theists do, too!).
What I’m going to say isn’t THE answer, because THE answer doesn’t exist. I’m going to share some of my thoughts on the matter. Treat them as thinking points. They might spark a different answer for you, or open up new possibilities, or make you think about the question in a way you haven’t before.
My Thoughts
A little while ago, we noticed that Henry had a lump on the back of her neck. At first we thought maybe one of our other cats had scratched her and her neck was swollen, so we decided to keep our eye on it. It didn’t go away, and occasionally it bled, so we took her to the vet last weekend. Apparently it’s not uncommon for cats to develop cysts when they get older, and that’s what the vet suspected. They can’t just drain the cyst, they have to remove an epithelial lining while the cat is sedated (or under), drain the cyst, and then stitch the cat up—a minor surgical procedure.
When our cats have to go to the vet for a procedure, my partner usually drops the lucky victim off on the way to work. The vets do the procedure in the afternoon, and we pick up the dopey cat in the evening. So yesterday morning, I plunked a struggling Henry into a cat carrier and whisked her to the front door. As I listened to her frantic meowing and her wide eyes pleaded with me, I wished I could explain to her why it was a good thing that she was going to have a day from hell.
Think about it from Henry’s point of view: she has no clue what the hell is going on. She’s plucked from her comfortable cat bed (which is right next to one of the heat registers, of course). She’s trapped in a carrier and driven to a strange place, with all its unfamiliar smells and sounds (including barking dogs!). She’s handled by people she doesn’t know and locked in a cage. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever return to her familiar and safe environment again. At some point, she’s removed from the cage and placed onto a steel table. She’s surrounded by strange people. She has a needle stuck into her. She’s shaved. They do stuff to her (she had a local anesthetic and pain killer, so she was awake for the procedure). She’s terrified.
And it’s all for her benefit.
I, the almighty one, who had all the information and understood why she was going through hell; in fact, I’d deliberately subjected her to it because I knew it would benefit her…I was affected, too. I didn’t write. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to focus. Yes, it was a minor procedure, but I knew Henry was frightened and having a rotten day. I wished I could have told her that she’d be coming home to love and kisses and, more importantly to her, treats! I stuck to activities that didn’t require much brain power, like listening to podcasts. I thought of her often. I was with her in spirit. I was rooting for her. I also had a headache.
The vet called around 2:30 to let me know that everything had gone well. My headache was gone by five.
Henry: When I get home from the vet, I am *so* peeing on the carpet.
This led to me thinking about Hickory, our diabetic cat. She was diagnosed in January 2012, and she’s still going strong. That means I’ve given her 365 x 2 (I’m rounding it to two years, even though it’s been two years and two months now) x 2 needles, give or take. That’s 1,460 needles. Over the past 26 months, I’ve jabbed my cat 1,460 times. I’d love to explain to her that without those 1,460 needles, she’d be dead, not sitting on the window sill cushion watching the birds emerge after a long winter, or dozing on her favourite chair in the living room, or catching the sun in our bedroom in the afternoons.
Senseless Suffering
What about senseless suffering? Isn’t that what really punches us in the gut? The person who is stricken with cancer, suffers through chemotherapy, and dies. Someone is gunned down on the street for $5 and their loved ones go through hell. Sexual abuse. Bullying. I’m sure today’s news will deliver more examples.
Some thoughts on this:
1. A person might suffer to benefit others.
2. If this life isn’t it, then a person’s suffering might benefit them after this life.
3. Suffering furthers God’s purpose, which if we’re talking about a good God, we’ll assume is good.
One more note: When writing, it’s difficult to make characters suffer, even when I know things will turn out for them, or they’ll grow or learn something from the experience. It doesn’t matter. It’s still hard. I suffer with them, and I’m talking about made-up people, here.
Last thought: Suffering sucks, even when you understand the why.
Conclusion
Those are some of my thoughts about why (a loving, good) God allows suffering. I have more, but I’ve stuck to those I’ve pondered about this past week. I’ll have more to say about William Lane Craig’s book in an upcoming post, and when Deiform Three is released, you’ll be able to read about what Jillian and Sam have to say on the subject (though, as I mentioned, they quickly start to go at each other over something else).
People have proposed all sorts of reasons for why God allows suffering. What do you think?
Enjoy your weekend!
Why Does God Allow Suffering? is a post from: Sarah Ettritch
