No Ouchless Answer
Dave Faust
A couple of evenings ago, I accidentally touched the wrong key on my computer keyboard and lost some writing projects I've been working on for months. My quick, thoughtless flick of the Delete key was followed by hours of frustration and regret. "How could I be so careless? Why did this happen? How can I recover what I lost?" Thankfully, it wasn't a total loss. My friend Bob the computer genius came to the rescue and retrieved many of my files. But for a while, I identified with the witty person who remarked, "Now I know why they call that computer program 'Windows.' You get so frustrated, you want to throw your computer out one!"
My experience with my computer was nothing, though, in comparison with other painful problems. Every day, people face the frustrating realization that something they valued is irretrievably gone, irreversibly lost. Health fails. A plane crashes. A factory lays off workers. A young mom comes home to find her husband gone. A baby dies. A tornado devastates a town. With one wrong turn of the steering wheel, a teenager leaves behind hundreds of grieving family and friends.
We want to know why. In hospitals and funeral homes, and in our own private moments of pain and doubt, we ask hard questions. If God is powerful and loving, why is there so much suffering in the world? Why doesn't God intervene? Why do bad things happen to good people?
That's what our magazine is about this week. We know that one issue of The Lookout can't fully resolve a complex problem great minds have wrestled with for centuries. But we do want to offer some practical insights that will encourage you in times of hardship. Perhaps this week's issue also could serve as a useful resource when other sufferers come to you for help or advice.
As unpleasant as this topic may be, it's important for us to think about. In The Problem of Pain, C. S. Lewis wrote that pain is God's "megaphone to rouse a deaf world"—compelling us to think about the devastating consequences of sin and to recognize our need for God's grace. In *Where Is God When It Hurts?, *Philip Yancey explained that pain is not "God's great mistake"; it is "the gift nobody wants."
There is no adequate answer to the problem of evil apart from Jesus Christ. By living on this painful planet, Christ showed that God is not simply sitting back, powerless and unconcerned, watching passively while people suffer. He got personally involved. "Christ suffered for you" though "he committed no sin"; and when he suffered, he "entrusted himself to him who judges justly" (1 Peter 2:21-23).
Jesus' suffering on the cross shows the depth of God's love, and his resurrection underscores the reality of God's power. In fact, no one comprehends the "suffering of the innocent" better than the Lord himself. He understands our questions, our sorrows, our broken hearts. If we complain about "bad things happening to good people," we need to remember that bad things happened to the best person. Jesus never sinned, yet who ever suffered more than he?
Our losses are still painful; our disappointments still hurt. But the Bible assures us that God has done something about them. A joyful future awaits us in an eternal dwelling place untainted by sin. And in the meantime, our struggles can serve a positive purpose as we grow in faith and character.
No matter what hardships you are facing, I pray that this issue of The Lookout will help you fix your eyes on Jesus "so that you will not grow weary and lose heart" (Hebrews 12:2, 3).
This column first appeared in The Lookout on Dec 8, 1996.
No More Mr. Nice Guy
You might be surprised to learn that the word *nice *never appears in the Bible. My dictionary says it derives from the Latin *nescius *("ignorant" or "foolish"). Nice used to mean "wanton," "coy," or "finicky," although in modern times it's come to mean "pleasing," "virtuous," "respectable," or "polite."
No Pain, No Grain
While driving through a small town the other day, I stopped at a traffic light at the town's main intersection. A building on the corner caught my eye. It was an old, classic-looking structure, with decorative carvings etched into its walls. Graceful woodwork surrounded its front door, covered by many layers of paint.