God Is Good

I think I know why the narrative of the “punishing-blessing god” is so prevalent and popular. We like control. This narrative allows us to live in the illusion that we can control our world, which is very appealing in our chaotic existence. This, though, is a form of superstition—don’t walk under a ladder, break a mirror or let a black cat cross your path. We know deep down that superstitions are silly, but that does not prevent us from believing in them.

The belief that God punishes and blesses us for our actions is not only superstitious, there is no evidence to support it. Augustine of Hippo, living in the fourth century, points out an obvious problem. He wrote:

We do not know why8 God’s judgment makes a good man poor, and a wicked man rich. . . . Nor why the wicked man enjoys the best of health, whilst the man of religion wastes away in illness. . . . Even then it is not consistent. . . . Good men also have good fortune and evil men find evil fortunes. . . . So though we do not know by what judgment these things are carried out or permitted by God, in whom is the highest virtue and the highest wisdom and the highest justice, and in whom there is no weakness nor rashness nor unfairness, it is none the less beneficial for us to learn not to regard as important the good or evil fortunes which we see shared by good and evil persons alike.

I love Augustine’s honesty—we do not know why God allows this to happen. And he also points out that good things do happen to the good, and bad things also happen to those who are bad.

Name some of the “peculiarly good” consequences (character, disposition, reputation) that are a part of the lives of those who do good.

Take infertility, for example. I know some really fine, faithful couples who cannot conceive a child, and it brings them pain and shame. Today I read in my local newspaper about a mother who prostituted her little girl for drug money. Why was that woman blessed with the ability to conceive, while my friends were not? So should we conclude that good people always suffer and bad people never do? Of course not. Bad people also suffer, and good people prosper. Clearly there is no way to make sense of it all, no system to explain the whys.

Even so, Augustine still continues to believe that God possesses the “highest virtue and . . . wisdom and . . . justice,” and that God is neither weak nor rash nor unfair. He concludes by saying that it is not “beneficial” to spend our time worrying about why good or bad things happen. It is not worthwhile because we simply cannot know. And more importantly, it will keep us from focusing on the right things. Augustine concludes, “Rather we must seek out9 the good things peculiar to the good, and give the widest berth to the evils peculiar to evil men.”

We should focus our attention on “the good things peculiar to the good.” What does that mean? It refers to the blessings that are given only to those who strive to do good. That is the only justice, in a sense, we can count on.

For example, as I am writing this I am in Brazil working with two pastors. For years both have been serving, preaching to and offering love to the people in Rio de Janeiro and Campinas. Though I do not speak fluent Portuguese and cannot understand what people are saying to them, I have watched throughout the day as dozens of men and women who have been blessed by their ministries come forward to hug and thank them. Pastor Eduardo’s and Pastor Ricardo’s faces radiated with joy.

This is something unknown to those who do wrong. Those who are selfish and spiteful and mean will never know the feeling those two pastors know. It is something peculiar to those who do good.

Conversely, Augustine says that we should also “give the widest berth to the evils peculiar to evil men.” Those who are selfish and spiteful and mean are intimately acquainted with guilt, loneliness, remorse and self-hatred. They know what it feels like to have darkness surround and overtake them. This does not solve the problem entirely, but it gives us a glimpse into the goodness of God. God promises that those who love and serve, and are honest and faithful, will know a kind of joy and peace that those who are evil never will.

We never know, in this life, why anything happens to any of us. If we are honest and objective we will have to admit that there is little justice in this life. Augustine offers one last word of wisdom about suffering. He tells us that one day we will understand:

When we come to Judgment Day10 not only will the judgments passed there seem to be most just, but all the judgments of God from the beginning will be likewise clearly fair. Then too it will also become clear how just the judgment of God is in causing so many—in fact, almost all—of his judgments to evade men’s grasp of understanding. Those who have faith will not fail to realize that such hidden judgments are just.

Does the fact that God has the final say in all of life offer you comfort? Hope? Frustration? Why?

If Augustine were my pastor he would say, “We cannot know these things here and now—they are beyond our grasp. But I believe that one day it will all become clear. One day you will fully understand why God allowed your daughter to be born with a birth defect and why she died young, and I believe that when you understand why, you will see that God was not only just, but good.”

I want to state clearly that it is not just the narratives of Jesus that have helped me, but Jesus himself has carried me along through my grief and doubt. Jesus not only explains suffering, he experienced suffering. He endured the worst kind of alienation possible as he hung on the cross, feeling that his Father had forsaken him. When we received the news about our daughter Madeline’s condition, I too felt forsaken by God. Jesus understands.

In his letter to the Galatians Paul wrote this moving narrative: “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:19-20).

If you look closely at your Bible when you read this verse, you will probably notice a footnote after the phrase “faith in the Son of God.” The footnote in most modern translations reads, “or can be translated ‘the faith of the Son of God.’ ” This is because it seems to be a more accurate translation, and your Bible translators want to be honest. So why do most translations not read that way? I think it is because we tend to emphasize our faith in Jesus, and are not used to thinking about Jesus’ faith for us.

Jesus said his Father was good. Jesus also refused to affirm the idea that external rewards and punishments are given by God on the basis of our good or bad works. Rain falls on the good and the bad. Sometimes we pray for rain (for our crops), and sometimes we pray that it will not rain (for our picnics). Both good and bad people get rained on, whether they want it or not. Jesus faced suffering, rejection and alienation, and the people jeered at him as he hung on the cross, questioning whether God was really with him. And Jesus believed. And he believes for me. He believes even when we cannot. He prays even when we cannot. We participate in his faith.

I affirm with Paul that I have been crucified with Christ. I do not understand that mystery, but I know that Jesus is closer to me than I am to myself. Christ lives in me, and I live by his faith. I am not alone. This is something more than simply getting my narratives right. It is allowing Jesus to live in and through and for me. The love of the Father, the redemption of Jesus and the communion I have with the Spirit are not based on anything I do. It is a gift from the Holy Spirit to believe in a God who is good even when things look bleak.

A few years after Madeline died I was in the middle of a day of solitude. My mind went over the last few years, thinking about the pain of hearing the news from the doctors, the countless sleepless nights on hospital floors, and the dark and rainy day we placed her body in the earth. I turned to God and said, without thinking, “Maybe it would have been better if she had never been born.”

That was when I received one of the clearest experiences of God responding to me that I’ve ever had in my life. On this day, at that moment, a little voice penetrated my mind, the voice of a little girl, a voice I had never heard but immediately recognized as Madeline’s. “Daddy, you should never say that. If I had never been born, I would not be here now. I am so happy here in heaven, and one day you and Mom and Jacob will come and see me, and we will live forever together. And there is more good that has happened because of me that you can’t see now but will one day understand.”

I immediately repented of my despicable thoughts and crumpled to the ground in tears. I was thankful to hear such words. Another narrative had entered my mind—the story about the promise of heaven. I was beginning to see how a person could face tragedy and still say “God is good to me,” to understand how Job could say, “Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him” (Job 13:15 KJV), and to know how Jesus could tremble in a garden and still call his Father “Abba.”

Two years after Madeline’s death my wife, Meghan, became pregnant. For eight months we lived with a lot of anxiety, mixed with a little faith. When it came time to have that final sonogram, our hearts were in our throats, bracing for bad news. The technician, who did not know our story, kept saying things we loved to hear: “Perfect hands . . . perfect heart . . . your baby looks just perfect. Do you want to know the gender?” We said yes. “It’s a little girl.” We both smiled. “What are you going to name her?” she asked.

At the very same moment we said, “Hope.”

It has now been a decade since Madeline died. So much now seems clear to me in regard to the nature of God. God’s goodness is not something I get to decide upon. I am a human being with limited understanding, and as I grow and mature in my walk of faith I increasingly see how little I understand. In the end, I have the testimony of Jesus to stand on. My own experiences of disappointment with God say more about me and my expectations than they do about God. The goodness of God, I now see with greater clarity, is vast and consuming. Jesus never promises that our lives will be free of struggle. In fact, he said quite the opposite: “In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33 KJV).

We should expect to go through heartache and pain, suffering and loss, because they are part of what it means to be human, and they can be useful in our development. As James said, “My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:2-4).

I have grown much more through my trials than I have through my successes. I do not ask for trials, and I am not as deep in God’s kingdom as was James, so I don’t consider trials “nothing but joy,” but I am learning to trust God in the midst of them.

To be sure, I have been through a lot of trials over the past few years. I have not been asked back to preach at the “call and response” church, but I do not need a pulpit to proclaim that God is good. I know with certainty that God did not punish my daughter with a congenital illness because of the sins of my wife, me or my daughter. And I know that God is just. And I also hold fast to the hope of heaven, a place where wrongs are made right and where I will understand fully. I believe all of this because of the faith of the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me. No matter where I am I can say with confidence, “God is good all the time, and all the time God is good!”