“Vanity of vanities, said the preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.” (Ecclesiastes 1:2, LXX)

Last May, I voluntarily admitted myself to a psych ward after a suicide attempt left me questioning my place in this world. They had about five books available for patients, including a shoddy translation of the Bible. After a few days of being stabilized on medications, I picked it up and turned to Ecclesiastes. I had just survived an overdose; needless to say, I possessed quite a somber mindset. I found a slight sense of relief in knowing that the biblical authors were not exempt from the feelings I experienced at that time.

I felt that I had let myself down. Moreover, I felt that God had abandoned me. While in active psychosis, I experienced severe auditory hallucinations. Specifically, I heard the voice of God telling me that I needed to end my life. Earlier that year, after reading Amos and determining that the God of the Bible is a monster, I became an agnostic. Because I had rejected the God of Christianity, I carried the guilt of apostasy. This guilt, along with severe alcohol use and medication withdrawals, led me to believe that God was punishing me for rejecting him.

In the weeks and months following my attempt, I carried the burden of being a moral failure. I found consolation in Ecclesiastes’ message that human beings possess a strong moral standing, while the divine does not. In this post, I wish to survey the Ecclesiastical theodicy that, in many ways, saved my life.

All is Vanity: An Overview

The book of Ecclesiastes may be considered a long list of grievances its author holds concerning God, the world, and human life. At the core of Ecclesiastes, as with much of the ancient didactic wisdom literature (especially in the Bible), is the human experience of suffering. The author of Ecclesiastes, without a doubt, understands the impact suffering has on all breathing creatures; this pain, he understands, is vanity.

The book begins with the repeated use of the word vanity. The Hebrew word he employs, hebel, literally translates to “vapor.”¹ This term indicates that which “is lacking substance, ephemeral, without any result.”² The author does not refer to one singular item or belief, but that all or everything lacks substance. This opening phrase sets the tone for the remainder of the dialogue.

Theology as an Ancient Coping Skill

In antiquity, suffering humans did not have access to resources such as therapy or psychiatry. The field of psychology would not develop for millennia. But trauma is certainly as old as life itself, as is the belief in beings greater than ourselves. People needed a way to cope with suffering, and the greatest help available resided in the hands of the divine. To this day, belief in deities remains a coping strategy in times of hardship.

The picture I have painted in the preceding paragraph is exactly why the question of theodicy is so important. Those of us who believe in something(s) higher than us find it hard to rectify our suffering with their existence. It was no different for the ancient Israelites. To understand what these ancient texts mean, we must consider the framework of the authors’ psyches.

As one researcher says, “[T]here was a common tendency in Israel and Mesopotamia to understand human suffering and trauma in terms of divine punishment and human flourishing in terms of divine favor.”³ …or “both Israelite and Mesopotamian cultures operated within a worldview in which sin—whether disobedience to God/gods or failure to complete a religious ritual to the deities’ satisfaction—resulted in human suffering.”⁴

This concept is seemingly instinctual. We suffer, then we wonder why we are suffering. We ask questions such as, “What have we done to deserve this? Why is God doing this to me?” As I mentioned early on in this blog, such questions alone beg the problem of suffering. The idea that God inflicts suffering upon a person due to that person sinning is known as retributive theology. I think we can all acknowledge that this branch of theology does not provide a satisfactory resolution for the problem of suffering.

And neither does it for Qoheleth.

Retribution Theology Cannot Explain All Suffering

The book of Ecclesiastes is probably the least theological and most philosophical book in the Bible. The key belief behind Qoheleth’s monologue is, “Life is meaningless because actions fail to correspond with their consequences.”⁵ I think our modern translations are flawed in that meaningless carries an overwhelmingly pessimistic connotation. We all know that life is not meaningless. That life is a vapor, and thus it is fleeting, seems to fit better with the overall message of Ecclesiastes.

As I have heard the great biblical scholar Bart Ehrman explain in many debates on suffering, “vapor,” the literal transliteration of hebel in Ecclesiastes, means something that is here one moment and gone the next. That is life. We never know when our last day will be. We never know what tomorrow will bring. Life is not meaningless; our English Bibles do a great injustice to the original text with such translations. Life is a vapor—we need to enjoy it while it lasts.

We cannot live our lives believing what the church says. “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom. 3:23). Yes, this verse is true; but it is not the end of the story. There is no need to spend each day worrying that our pasts sins will result in hardships. We need to accept that we are wrong, we sin, and we can still enjoy life. As Qoheleth observes to be true, “A person can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in their own toil. This too, I see, is from the hand of God” (Ecc. 2:24).

Coherence, Significance, and Purpose in Ecclesiastes

Ecclesiastes is certainly a grim book; however, it is also extremely hopeful. It is truthful in the sense that it acknowledges the pain and misery we face in life. But it also serves as the example of one who, seemingly hopeless, hopes to find the meaning of life. And in my honest opinion, Qoheleth achieved his goal.

We as humans are instinctively inclined to seek out the meaning of life with hopeful hearts. Everyone hopes to see the sun rise another day. It is basic human psychology. In our quest for the meaning of life, psychologists have determined a “threefold scheme comprised of coherence, significance, and purpose.”⁶ Qoheleth, even if indirectly, addresses each of these in Ecclesiastes.

Coherence

We all long for coherence. We become frustrated when life does not make sense; the righteous suffer and the evil receive blessings. This, truly, is meaningless. Being upset when life is illogical is only part of being human. We know that we cannot change this, but we hope that it will all work out in the end.

Significance

We all crave significance. Nobody wants to simply lie down in isolation until the day we pass on. We want to forgive our pasts, make the most of the present, and hope for a better future. It is without a doubt that death is evil, but also inevitable. We all have that same ultimate destiny (Ecc. 9:3) and we hope that when that day comes, we can look back and appreciate our achievements.

Purpose

Lastly, we desire purpose. Whether our goals are to have a great career, find the love of our lives, or provide hope to the hopeless, we desire to know that our efforts are not in vain. We want to know that, at the end of the day, we have done something to make the world a better place. This, too, is not meaningless; it is being human.

Conclusion

Life is fleeting. Qoheleth knew this to be true, and you and I know it to be true. Ultimately, we desire to find the meaning of life through coherence, significance, and purpose. There is no sense in regretting the past, hating the present, and dreading the future. Of those three, the only two that are certain are the past and present. Tomorrow is never guaranteed.

Live each moment like it is your last. Do not waste your time beating yourself up over not going to church that one Sunday, or not making a donation to United Way (it’s only going to their CEO, anyway). We sin. Christian or not, it is important that we correct our ways of wrongdoing, but we cannot forget that life is only a vapor. It is here today, gone tomorrow. We must make it count.

1. Fox, Michael V. “Ancient Near Eastern Wisdom Literature (Didactic).” Religion Compass 5, no. 1 (2011): 6, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1749-8171.2010.00251.x

2. Murphy, Roland E.. Ecclesiastes, Volume 23A. Grand Rapids: HarperCollins Christian Publishing, 2015, 88.

3. Meek, Russell L. and Elizabeth Mehlman. “Resilience through Disclosure and Meaning Making in Qoheleth and the Babylonian Theodicy.” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 47, no. 3 (2023): 292. https://doi.org/10.1177/03090892221149047

4. Ibid.

5. Keefer, Arthur. “The Meaning of Life in Ecclesiastes: Coherence, Purpose, and Significance from a Psychological Perspective.” Harvard Theological Review 112, no. 4 (2019): 453. Gale In Context: Biography (accessed June 23, 2024). https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A603404458/BIC?u=vic_liberty&sid=summon&xid=605c1299.

6. Ibid., 450.

I think a very common misconception, concerning those who convert or deconvert, is that there is suddenly this great “A-ha!” moment. One suddenly connects the dots and knows whether God is real or not. This is not the case. We owe this misconception to both Christian and anti-Christian media. It sure does make for a great story! But oftentimes, the greatest stories are not ones that occur in reality.

Losing my faith was not an easy process. I never wanted to renounce Christianity. I wanted the convictions I held since childhood to remain true until my deathbed and beyond. I was not living in denial, by the way; I was living in undesired ignorance. I could never question my faith because doing so is a sin, I was taught. Growing up in a conservative, Christian home, attending church twice a week, and being homeschooled sure did a number on me. Here, I will discuss how I overcame this.

Beginnings – My Quest for Answers

I have told the story a million times, both in real life and here on Living by the Logos. Just after I turned eighteen, I faced the very beginning of my greatest suffering. Shortly after graduating high school and beginning full-time college, my loving mother, true follower of Christ, was diagnosed with stage four liver cancer. At the time, I was very devout. I attended my own church, went to one of the most conservative Christian universities in the country, and prayed daily. Might I add, I studied political science that one semester (yuck!).

But when my mother received her diagnosis, my entire world was turned upside down. Immediately after hearing the news, depression entered my body, where it has remained ever since. I collapsed on the floor in my bedroom, bawling my eyes out. “God, how could you do this? Why her? Why me?” I cried. I had not the slightest idea what the problem of suffering was in that moment, but I know now that I was begging it. In that moment, my life’s journey began.

I was heavily inspired by Lee Strobel’s book The Case for Christ at the time. For those who do not know, Lee Strobel was a staunch atheist who launched an investigation into the Gospels to disprove Jesus and the Christian faith as a whole. In his investigation, he consulted numerous biblical scholars who all wooed him. He concluded his case by accepting Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior. I must admit, I still hold a high degree of respect for Strobel, even if I disagree with him.

I took inspiration from Strobel and launched my own investigation into the Christian faith. However, I was already a Christian; my goal was not to disprove, but to prove that God always has a reason for our suffering. I knew for certain that my case would allow me to grow closer to Christ and heal the wounds that grew from the sickness and eventual death of the most important person in my life. I knew God was real, God cared, and I would show the world that this rang true.

However, I did not have faith in my faith. There was certainly a degree of skepticism regarding God’s care for our suffering, and this must be noted. Although I believed God had reasons for suffering, these reasons were hidden from me. As I began to ask fellow churchgoers, past and present, why God would allow my mother to suffer, I began to notice a common theme. These answers were far from satisfactory, and I knew there was something else buried deeply in the Bible. I was determined to find these answers.

The Case Builds (And So Does My Skepticism)

As I studied at Liberty University, it seemed as though I was only getting farther from the answers I was after. The courses I took never touched on God’s allowance of suffering. The problem of suffering? I discovered this through extracurricular research my sophomore year. I tried to find answers, but instead I constantly received information on why the Bible has one unified narrative.

Now, Liberty requires its students to uphold their fundamentalist standards in all papers, projects, and presentations. I remember one of the worst classes I took, Introduction to Church History Survey I. One of the assignments was to write a brief summary of church history since 33 CE (or AD by Liberty standards). For this assignment, I had points deducted because I mentioned the Crusades and the Inquisition (how dare I mention two of the church’s most notorious and evil acts!).

The classes I took at Liberty never provided any insight into the problem of suffering. All of the knowledge I do possess of it, I gained outside of school. Needless to say, this was a massive part of my deconversion. I took up this study to explore theodicy, yet I only received training on defending the fundamentalist faith. It was not all useless; I use this knowledge now to pigeonhole this toxic narrative and expose the flaws of evangelicalism. But I did not find what I sought at Liberty.

In Death, I Found My Answer

Last year was an extremely difficult year for me. I have written extensively on my psychosis, relapse, and suicide attempts. Why? Because these are the events that truly made me realize how destructive organized religion, Christianity in particular, has been in my life. Much of my psychosis was religious; I saw demons, I heard voices, and the greatest cross I bore was that I had renounced my faith, and as such, God was punishing me.

Early last year is when I came to the conclusion that I could no longer defend the God of Christianity. As I read the book of Amos, seeing the destruction God caused his own nation, along with its neighbors, I realized that the God of the Old Testament is not just wrathful; he is pure evil. Mind you, Satan did not exist in the Old Testament, so we cannot attribute death and destruction to God’s archnemesis.

Additionally, about these scriptures… Are they really perfect and inerrant? How can the church be so certain? We do not have the original manuscripts. We have copies of copies of copies of copies of copies. Seeing that, for about one thousand years, the Catholic church only allowed its priests to read the Bible… how are we certain that what we have today is not tainted? The answer: we cannot be!

While the Bible is the basis of my life, the foundation of everything I am and do, it is far from perfect. It has been edited. I believe there is valid information within it that can be used to live a happy, healthy life (thus, Living by the Logos), but it is not magical. It does not have all the answers. Moreover, the Bible does not answer the most important question in this life. Once upon a time, I was certain that the Bible contained this answer or answers. But, in fact, although it does deal with the question, it never provides any kind of answer.

You’re a Terrible, Terrible Father

The God of Christianity is frequently compared to a father, both in the scriptures and the church. My actual least favorite song, what I believe to be the worst song ever written, composed, and/or performed, is the cringe-worthy “Good Good Father” by Chris Tomlin. “You’re a good, good father,” the artificial chorus says. But is God a good father? The same God who plagued his own people? The God who, according to the Old Testament, started wars because he was offended? The God who kills the innocent? Is this really a good father?

I never had a good father. My father, who I typically refer to as my sperm donor, is a horrible person and has devastated my life, from birth to now. It is because of him that I drank. It is because of him I struggled with self-image for much of my life. The idea of God being a father at all disturbs me. I cannot reconcile God being a good father when A) he is not good and B) I never had a good father, so how can this comparison provide any meaning to me?

This concept alone I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. The closest solace I found was in Wm. Paul Young’s controversial book, The Shack. In this book, God is portrayed as an African-American mother (one of its biggest controversies; ridiculous). Viewing God as a good, good mother I could understand. I think we all could. Mothers are typically, though not always, more empathetic and caring than fathers. Gender roles aside, I cannot believe that a God who allows innocent children to die of horrid diseases to be a “good, good” God.

Stepping Away, Finding Peace, and Fighting Religion

As I lay in my bed that night I attempted, I apologized to God. I apologized for failing to keep the faith. I apologized for becoming one with the world, rather than one with God. But did the God of Christianity deserve this apology? I think not. I think I deserved the apology. For my entire life, I believed that God was just and good. When I found out that this was not the case, and that the answer (God being a monster) was right in front of me in his own book, it shattered my world.

I abandoned the church shortly after my mother’s death, in the early days of the pandemic. While in my first round of treatment for alcoholism, I learned that the legalism of Christianity was the root cause of most of my struggles. Religious legalism, I can best describe in layman’s terms, is being told, “You must live this way, or God will punish you with eternity in hell.” You are told to act a certain way, or believe something as fact… or else.

Despite this awakening, I continued to hold Christian beliefs, just minus the church. Then I worked for a church. Seeing the inner workings of a church, and how it functions just as any other business, was a major revelation. Seeing how the church continues to be involved in sexual abuse scandals made my blood boil. But it was the prophet Amos who finally made me say, “No more, God.” I realized, through my study of Amos, that God is, indeed, a monster.

The Case Concludes

This has been a very brief overview of why I abandoned Christianity. Let me be clear, I did not want to leave it. I fought to hold these beliefs for almost my entire life. I never wanted to be “that guy” who just denies Christianity. I went into the study of theology, determined that I would grow in my relationship with God and lead others on the same path. I mean this wholeheartedly. But it did not work out that way.

I held onto Christianity with every fiber of strength. But I had to recuse myself. Sometimes, holding on is much harder than letting go. In this case, instead of alleviating my suffering, it took me to the brink of death. I will not say God is dead. I still fully believe that the God of the Bible, the horrific monster he is, is still real. But is he the only God? I don’t think so. Is he the God I want to place my faith in? Hell no! But despite all of this, I have made the Bible the foundation of my life. And it will always be… though not for the reasons I once hoped.

Well no, actually. I can already hear the fundamentalists screaming, “But the snake in the Garden was Satan!” But where does the Bible say this? My favorite Christian dumbtank, Answers in Genesis, argues that it is no stretch to believe the Genesis serpent is Satan, because two verses in Revelation assert that Satan is a serpent.¹ Satan and his minions possess the ability to enter humans and animals to complete their evil tasks. Great, demon-possessed snakes… sounds like an idea for the creators of Sharknado.

My concern in this post is not on the Genesis serpent, however. My concern is with the first reference to “Satan” we have in the Bible. Satan first appears in the Book of Job, which some argue to be the oldest book in the Bible. But the Satan of Job is not the Satan of contemporary Christianity, or even Second Temple Judaism. The Satan is a member of God’s heavenly council. Let’s take a closer look at who this figure truly is.

The Satan: Who?

The Satan, in Job, is not so much a character as an office that reports to God. Modern scholars typically accept that the Hebrew title, ha-Satan, means “adversary,” “accuser,” or “executioner.”² Looking at the dynamics between the two in the prologue to Job, it is clear that Satan is more of a subordinate to God, rather than an adversary. In the book, Satan carries out the work of God. He is, after all, a member of God’s celestial council.

There is some debate that the book of Job is actually a pagan book. This is because God does not act alone; he acts through his henchmen, including the Satan. These council members are, however, lower than God. In Job, they are literally identified as “the sons of God”—including the Satan. This makes us stop and wonder, who is really the bad guy in Job? Is it the Satan, for attacking Job? Or is it Yahweh, for selecting Job and allowing his subordinates to determine to torture Job?

The Satan, in Job, is God’s instrument of suffering. We in our 21^st Century thinking typically believe that “the mean ol’ devil” is the enemy of Job. But this could not be any further from the truth. God is the cause of Job’s suffering. As one commentator notes, “The dialogue does not explore the possibility of Job’s suffering coming from any hand other than God’s.”³ In this proper reading of Job, the Satan is the knife that God uses to cut Job. God is the antagonist of this story, not Job, and not the Satan.

The Satan: What does he do?

What do you think the Satan of Job does for work? Poke people with his pitchfork? Do the exact opposite of everything God does? Lead an army of demons against the church? The answer may shock you: he is sent to judge and punish the wicked. He does not recruit humans to torment the righteous, he tortures those who are not righteous. One researcher argues that the Satan functions as “the eyes of Yahweh,” in finding the unrighteous and serving retribution.⁴ Because Job is righteous, the Satan must receive special permission from God to chastise him.

The figure of Satan as we know today is the product of intertestamental books. As we already know, the God of the Hebrew Bible is violent and wrathful. Once we get to the prophets (e.g., Amos) God is all but Israel’s greatest adversary. Portraying God as the source of suffering started to become a bit complicated. Thus, the apocryphal literature made the manifestation of evil a powerful deity named Satan. The New Testament would go on to expound upon this figure, the scapegoat of causal suffering, and make him the archenemy of God.

But in Job, Satan is not a monster. The Satan we know today is not present in the book of Job. The Satan, the office of God that causes human suffering, accomplished the necessary work of Yahweh. The Hebrew Bible never posits that God has an archenemy who inflicts the world with suffering. No, the deity who makes Job suffer is the same deity who created him and the world. The God of the Bible is the cause of suffering throughout the Old Testament. He is not merely a God who is sometimes wrathful, as the church often portrays the Hebrew God. The Hebrew God is the God who makes both the righteous and the wicked suffer.

There are only three places in the Bible that make reference to “the Satan:” Job 1-2, Zecheriah 3, and 1 Chronicles 21. None of these verses depict a tall, red goatman holding a pitchfork. None of these passages depict an opponent of God. The problem of suffering produced the idea of a Satan character. Judaism reached a point where explaining God as the cause of suffering was not conducive; the religion needed to blame suffering on someone, and thus, Satan was created.

Conclusion

Is Satan real? I do not believe so. The Satan of Christianity evolved as a way to explain evil and suffering. The Satan of Job is an officer of God who accomplishes God’s dirty work. He is God’s hitman, in a sense. Christianity needed a scapegoat. Saying that God causes suffering is in line with what the Old Testament teaches, but that is not a pretty idea. It will not cause the church’s numbers to spike. So, a villain was necessary. Since the intertestamental period, the character of Satan has evolved into the being we know today. But in Job, Satan was not what we think he is today. Because of the church, we read our own ideas of Satan into Job. But that is not biblical exegesis. That is indoctrination by the church.

1. Bodie Hodge, “Was Satan the Actual Serpent in the Garden?” Answers in Genesis, https://answersingenesis.org/angels-and-demons/satan/was-satan-the-actual-serpent-in-the-garden/

2. Ryan E. Stokes, “Satan, YHWH’s Executioner” Journal of Biblical Literature, Vol. 133, No. 2 (Summer 2014), 252. https://www.jstor.org/stable/pdf/10.15699/jbibllite.133.2.251.pdf?refreqid=fastly-default%3Adfacac0deec924a3dd8e0051d71c9df1&ab_segments=&origin=&initiator=&acceptTC=1

3. Wilson, Lindsay. Job. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015, 190.

4. Stokes, Ryan E.. The Satan : How God’s Executioner Became the Enemy. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2019. 42. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/liberty/reader.action?docID=6172714#

Faith, hope, and…

Fill in the blank. Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:13, “And now these three remain: faith, hope and ____. But the greatest of these is ____.” Is the missing word logic? No! Because when we are discussing matters of life and death or good and evil, logic simply has no place. I say this as a polemic towards both militant Christians and offensive opponents of belief. Why is it that there is so much debate on the issue? Is proving or disproving God really this important? That it would require one to take advantage of the hardest part of being human? How can we as a species be so divided on a topic that, one way or another, affects us all?

The problem of suffering is often categorized as a philosophical problem. And while yes, there is a time and place to debate the issue, I believe we should be more concerned about what we are doing to resolve the issue. It is not so much about explaining the reason for suffering as it is seeking to mitigate the prevalent suffering in our world. Of course, this is not an easy task. But nobody ever said it would be easy. Look around at the world. There is suffering everywhere. It’s on the news. It’s on the streets. It’s raging inside each and every one of us.

Love. That’s all it takes. No, love cannot cure a genetic disease. But it can minimize the ill effects of suffering prevalent in the one with the sickness. Explaining how God does or does not exist—what is that going to accomplish? The research I have reviewed for this post answers that question quite simply: nothing. Theodicies do not remove the sting of pain and suffering. Likewise, attacking people’s belief systems and boldly, yet selfishly asserting there is no god is producing nil results. I mentioned in a previous post that to have a purely logical answer to the problem of suffering, one must be a psychopath. I stand by my words.

A problem greater than the problem

Rationalization of suffering, in fact, worsens the effects of suffering. I can reflect on a time in my life when this certainly rang true. During one of my darkest times on this earth, when my mother was battling liver cancer, I struggled to make sense of her suffering and mine. Why did God do this to me? What have I done? I asked. The church gave me logical answers. Granted, I am endowed to note that the church I attended did so in a loving manner. But I was offered logic. In those moments, I did not need logic. The stress of trying to understand “why me?” and “what have I done to deserve this?” only added the stress I was already experiencing.

I came across a literature review of the sociologist Max Weber, who often discussed theodicy and suffering. In this review, the author explains, “The potential for the problem of suffering to shatter and shock people’s lives grows with the advance and force of rationalization.”_¹ The author continues that as intellectual beings, humans are driven by a desire to understand the meaning of suffering.² Believers of any faith, of course, become stressed and anxious to make sense of the apparent inconsistences of their belief systems and the world to which they belong. A world full of rampant suffering.

A biblical response

Now, I am not a sociologist. My purpose in this post is not to explain how societal beliefs and religious beliefs combat each other. My point in raising this issue is to address the word, the logos, we can live by. As I am a student of the Bible, I turn to this source for finding the solution. And the solution to this problem is, of course, love. That is the word I omitted in the aforementioned verse. But I would like to turn the attention to another verse, in which the author makes an important calling. Galatians 6:2 (CJB) states, “Bear one another’s burdens — in this way you will be fulfilling the Torah’s true meaning, which the Messiah upholds.”

My solution to the problem of suffering is found in this verse. Bear one another’s burdens. As cliché as it may sound, we are all in this together. Whether we identify as Christian, agnostic, atheist, or anything and everything else, we are all on this world together. We all share it. We share the good, we share the bad. We share the suffering, we share the joy. It is not our place to shove dogma down the throats of those who are already walking in darkness.

Galatians is written to “the church of Galatia,” and thus its audience is rather specific. It is the responsibility of Christians to bear the burdens of one another. I would take this a step further in my opinion. It is not the responsibility of Christian’s to only look out for each other, but to serve those in their community. Christian or not. In fact, the call to “bear one another’s burdens” is likely included to echo the sentiments of pagan philosophers Xenophon and Socrates.³ Believers of the Bible are called to serve each other, indeed, but they are also called to serve others.

The church and the temple

All too often the church views itself as some kind of utopian kingdom on the earth, superior to those who do not associate with it. In this way, it has become like the Temple in Jesus’ day. It has become a place for pious individuals to gather and hear about a book that was, in their view, written exclusively for them. Sinners are not allowed. Pastors have become the Pharisees. They assert that if you do not conform to the beliefs of the church, you cannot belong to it. I have seen this happen. It seems the church has accepted the idea that they are only to bear the burdens of its members.

Jesus led a revolution, but he did not do so by sitting in the temple and sharing the burdens of his fellow believers. Much to the Pharisees’ disgust, he communed with sinners. He shared the burdens of the religious outcasts. Why is it that the modern church refuses to follow his lead? Instead of prescribing philosophical defenses to the problem of suffering, the church should be leading the charge to eliminate suffering. And not only within itself, but within the greater community to which it belongs.

A call to change

Rationalizing suffering in the church is not alleviating the burden of human suffering. A pastor telling churchgoers why their perspective on the problem of suffering is superior to that of non-Christians is not ending the suffering. In fact, it is making the problem much harder to reconcile. While I believe that “there is a purpose for the pain” and “everything happens for a reason,” these beliefs accomplish nothing without action. Faith without works is dead. And works is not exclusively confined to missionary trips to other countries. Works out of faith are simply any actions performed for the purpose of showing love.

The love that Christ showed to sinners. No, pastors are not miracle workers and cannot cure blindness. But they can make every effort to love on the members of their church, as well as the members of their community. Instead of sending someone home for wearing dark leather or making one feel alienated for showing up to their facility high, why not make every effort to show them that they are loved? Instead of casually hanging out with church staff, why not show humility and develop relationships with those who do not attend the church?

The problem of suffering is a colossal problem. I feel that in the world, and especially in the church, the problem is overlooked. When it is touched upon, it becomes an opportunity to argue for a particular belief. This only makes the suffering worse, as I have experienced firsthand. We should be making every effort to bear each other’s burdens, regardless of where we come from or what we believe. In the end, three things remain, and rationalization is not one of them. Love is.

1. Wilkinson, Iain. “The Problem of Suffering as a Driving Force of Rationalization and Social Change.” The British Journal of Sociology 64, no. 1 (2013): 128.

2. Ibid., 130.

3. Weidmann, Frederick W. Galatians. First ed. Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2012, 124.

For many years, I have struggled with a few mental health disorders. I have struggled with substance abuse. At least twice, these ailments led to a crisis. Twice, I was hospitalized as a result. In those moments, I could not possibly wrap my mind around the idea that my suffering was temporary. And yet, it was. I am supremely thankful to have the support system I do. I am beyond grateful for the nurses, therapists, counselors, and professionals who pushed me to believe the truth of this message.

I think the idea that pain is only temporary is a universal truth. You do not have to be a Christian to believe it. I will say that in my years as a churchgoer, I always appreciated teachings on verses such as Romans 8:18. They were scarce; more often than not, I was presented with theodicies. The free will theodicy. The original sin theodicy. The heaven theodicy, if you will. Indeed, there is a time and place for discussions on these concepts. But when one is grieving or facing a health crisis, saying people suffer because of sin can only make matters worse.

I am not saying churches should embrace a universalist message. Not that it would matter much, but I believe I would be excommunicated from every denomination if I were to say so. What I can say is that there are moments when logical doctrines cause nothing but harm. In my last post, I mentioned that in the face of grieving, logic is tossed out the window. Suddenly, defenses and offenses become blistering reminders of how polarizing religion can be. And it can certainly make the situation much worse.

Yes, most of the time when faced with hardship we beg the problem of suffering. “Why me?” “What have I done?” “How could God allow this to happen?” Imagine if instead of presenting a logical defense of God’s allowance of suffering, a pastor could change the course of the conversation. Instead of defending their point of view, why not try to help the suffer understand that God never intends suffering to permanent? No one suffers for eternity—unless you accept the Christianized concept of hell, which I do not.

I do not believe that we go to heaven when we die. This simply is not biblical. I likewise do not believe that “bad people burn in hell.” Hell is never even mentioned in the Bible! This is all clearly up for debate, and I hope to write on the topic one day. My point in raising this issue is to correct the idea often sucked out of this verse. Paul is not saying that “going to heaven” is the primary purpose of our suffering. “The glory that will be revealed” is Paul’s way of acknowledging that one day, whether in heaven, on earth, in purgatory, or wherever, God’s purpose will be revealed.

In this life, it is impossible to understand why we suffer. In this life, the purpose of hardship is for us to endure for the hope of what is to come. While researching this verse, I came across an old research article which explains of Paul’s intentions,

“[Paul] looked at the world and the human struggle with wide open eyes. The hope he finally came to was reached through despair. His hope respects an ultimate glory: this alone prevents his despair from being complete.”¹

Hope. That was Paul’s solution to the problem of suffering. That was his drive to endure his despair. It was my mother’s drive to endure the harshness of her cancer. It was my drive to process the grief of losing her. The pain is only temporary; but hope is eternal.

If it is hope that you will be in heaven someday, then I encourage you to cling to such hope. But heaven itself is not necessarily the glory we anticipate in suffering. The glory that will be revealed to believers of the Bible is one day understanding that there was a purpose for the pain God allowed. Taking it a step further, as Mr. Lewis has argued, humanity’s destiny is to one day be united with their god (or gods).² This union is, indeed, the ultimate essence of glory.

I mentioned earlier that I loved hearing verses such as Romans 8:18 exegeted in church when I still attended. I believe the ultimate aspect that I enjoyed the most is the encouragement to have hope. It was often distorted to a very specific hope, the hope that when we die, we enter paradise. But that is a very Western way of thinking. It centers solely on the self as it implies that we deserve to enter heaven. Do we? Have not all sinned and fallen short? Many modern scholars argue that the glory Paul speaks of is the “hope of redemption.”

Redemption from what, though? Sin? Possibly. But the following verses in Romans suggest it is redemption from the frailty of human life (e.g., 8:21, 23). One of my favorite scholars, Craig Keener, writes that humanity has been subjugated to perishability; we acknowledge that our bodies, our material life, is mere vanity, and we long to escape this.³ He states, “‘Redemption’ refers to the freeing of slaves; the goal of freedom here was liberation from death (7:24).”⁴ Don’t we all anticipate the end of suffering?

Human life is only temporary. And as such, suffering is only temporary. In regards to the problem of pain, I think we can draw this from Romans 8:18: every soul anticipates the end of suffering. We all question why we suffer. But as Paul acknowledges, we may not know why we suffered in this lifetime. That is to be revealed at another time. What we should focus on, and what we should encourage those struggling to know, is that we can hope in the future. We must certainly acknowledge the pain and devastation, but we can rest in knowing that it will not last forever.

Whether you are a theist, polytheist, atheist, or anything else, I believe we all possess a desire to see the pain end. It is a universal truth and a path I have walked many times. We may not all agree with the Bible or Paul (I, for one, think Paul is a bit overrated… but that’s just me) but we can agree that there is always hope. Sometimes, we have to realize the pain is only temporary. It may get worse before it gets better. And it may very well be that the trials do not compare to the glory that is yet to come.

1. Lewis, Edwin. “A Christian Theodicy: An Exposition of Romans 8:18–39.” Interpretation (Richmond) 11, no. 4 (1957): 405.

2. Ibid., 411

3. Keener, 106.

4. Ibid.

Meet Dusty. That’s the name of the cat in the picture at the beginning of this entry. Our family, particularly my mother and older brother Josh, adopted Dusty in January of 2016. He was a gift to my younger brother, Cameron. I can recall the day Cameron received his gift. I remember finding Elvis Presley’s song “Rock-a-Hula Baby” to be one of my all-time favorite songs. I remember, at the time, not knowing the value pets have and the impact they can make on a person. 

I have never owned a pet. When I began studying theology and found my focus in the problem of suffering, I read C.S. Lewis’ classic work The Problem of Pain. There is a section in the book dedicated to the problem of animal suffering. Admittedly, I skipped this portion of the book. I admit, I discarded the problem of animal suffering because it did not seem to be as important as the problem of human suffering. And while I would certainly strive to prevent the suffering of a child over that of an animal, this problem has resurfaced in my mind in recent weeks.

Josh and I, along with his four cats (taking proper ownership of Dusty), moved into an apartment three years ago this month. That summer, a year after losing my mother to liver cancer, I had begun to develop an appreciation for pets. This only continued to develop after moving. I would like to take a moment to write on each of these cats. Majesty, the oldest, was gifted to Josh when he was about 13. I remember going to pick her up from the shelter. Lucky, a petite black cat, I found while camping at my childhood friend and neighbor’s home at the age of nine. Dusty came into the picture seven years later. Lastly, Sporty was a rescue and taken in by Josh and my mother, just a year before she passed.

Living with these cats and seeing them each day, I quickly came to love each of them. Lucky was always my buddy, since I found her years prior. I was not mature enough at the time, nor was I years later, to care for and protect her. Josh welcomed her with Majesty and took wonderful care of them both. Even after moving, when the other three cats were, frankly, hesitant of me, Lucky demonstrated a love for me that I could never understand. Lucky and Majesty crossed the rainbow bridge in 2021, only months after I initially recovered from alcoholism. Even then, I did not know how important these cats were to my life and how much they shaped me and showed me a love comparable to the love of my mother.

Dusty. Dusty passed away on August 20th, 2023. The cat in the picture above has, like Majesty and Lucky, crossed the rainbow bridge. Seeing this loving cat suffer, and Josh as a result, I began to reevaluate the problem of animal suffering I had skipped over a few years ago. I have come to the conclusion that, regardless of identification as a species, all living beings suffer. And it is our responsibility to care for them, to love them, and to cherish them for the value they serve in our lives. 

Suffering is inevitable. Suffering is a problem. And suffering cannot be avoided, but it can be mitigated. I have wrote extensively on the church’s belief that all suffering is caused by human evil. But while human evil plays a role in the problem of suffering, it cannot explain everything. BioLogos is a controversial organization for supporting the concept of theistic evolution. I learned about the organization while studying at the fundamentalist, evangelical school Liberty University, where I earned my Bachelor’s. Regarding the problem of animal suffering, I came across a post that says this: 

Some of the suffering and evil in the world is clearly the result of human sin: genocide, rape, and countless other acts of evil. These are sometimes called “moral evils” because they are caused by our intentional actions. As such we have moral responsibility for them. Such evils are very difficult for us to experience, but are not as problematic to reconcile with a good Creator, since they are caused by us, not by God.¹

The problem is, the church views this as the only answer to the problem of suffering. However, Dusty was loved and cared for, tremendously, by Josh. I learned to love this cat. Human evil played no role, whatsoever, in what came to be. Cancer is a disease; it is one that I absolutely despise and wish to eradicate completely. And while there are trashy humans who mistreat animals, there is more to the story. Animals suffer; humans suffer; every living being, created in God’s image or not, suffers. To say this is all the result of sin simply aggravates me. Or, to say that suffering is meaningless because we are all “dust in the wind” is heartless. The church is wrong. There is evil in this world that exists beyond the confounds of sin and human nature.

I cannot say why animals suffer. I cannot say why humans suffer. There are many debatable reasons, each contingent upon specific circumstances. Circumstances that you and I may never even know. What I have learned in my experience with suffering is that suffering cannot simply be rationalized. To have a purely logical, Platonic explanation for the problem of suffering, one must be a psychopath. There are many Christians who “know” how to solve the problem of suffering. There are many opponents to Christianity who “know” the problem cannot be solved. 

But how can a loving Christian tell a parent who has lost their child in a vehicle accident that they are suffering because of their choices? How can an atheist tell a passionate theist that there is no point as to why their best friend died of cancer and God’s will thus will not prevail? In the face of such extreme losses, logic is tossed out the window. It is forgotten. And it should be.

In my earnest belief, life is about finding beauty in the rage, as I have discussed before. The loss of Dusty was tremendous and I would do anything to reverse it. But I see the beauty that lies in my brother’s hope. It lies in the constant care he provided, that he gave this cat a wonderful life, and in the midst of his suffering, drove to another state twice in one day to give him the best care possible. This beauty does not remove the tragedy, but it makes the burden much more bearable.

Yes, sometimes we suffer because we have made bad decisions. Sometimes we suffer because people are just inherently evil. Sometimes our pets suffer, and we suffer as a result. Sometimes we suffer for no reason at all. And sometimes we suffer so that we can learn to better appreciate and cherish life. There are countless other “sometimes.” No living creature is “dust in the wind” because each soul contributes to the beauty of life. And each soul has value that is magnified by the love and care shown to them, as I have seen with Dusty. What matters most is that we have faith in what we cannot see, hope in what could come, and love for who and what is important to us.

Rest in peace, Dusty Bear. You will not be forgotten.

1. BioLogos, “Is Animal Suffering Part of God’s Good Creation?” Retrieved from https://biologos.org/common-questions/is-animal-suffering-part-of-gods-good-creation.

In and of itself, the idea that God punishes people because they sin is not a misconception. The problem is that, all too often, the church interprets this as the only solution to the problem of suffering. Surely, you are familiar with the free will theodicy. If everybody lived perfect, Christ-like lives, there would be no suffering. But, we would all be programmed robots. With free will, we have the choice to do good deeds or sin incessantly. In truth, I can understand why the church focuses so heavily on this singular topic. It’s the “easy way” to explain how an all-loving, all-powerful God can allow so much depravity in this earthly life.

In my last post, I discussed a topic very close to my heart. That topic is the loss of my mother to liver cancer. When she was suffering such excruciating suffering to this awful disease, I knew the free will defense completely. I knew that God punishes sin with suffering. But what I did not know is how God can allow the righteous to suffer. While I can admit that no person is perfect, my mother did not deserve this horrendous level of suffering.

She birthed ten children. She homeschooled all twelve of us. Unless she was sick, she never missed a church service. She was actively involved in the community. She understood her role as a churchgoer; not to sit and listen to a pastor once or twice a week, but to go out and help those who struggle. She was faithful to her husband, even when he treated her worse than the dust on his feet. She lived to serve; and for that, she was punished? Needless to say, I had many questions. A lifetime of questions. Was she perfect? Absolutely not. But I cannot think of one thing she would have done to deserve God’s punitive wrath.

The word “innocent” is a Latin word, literally meaning “not harming.” Yet, all too often, we see that the innocent are dealt more harm than the vilest of humans. Will it be made right in the afterlife? Maybe. I do not believe in hell because it is an invention of Western theology. Argue as you will, there is no biblical basis for a fiery pit of demons torturing the wicked for eternity. None. There is a certain level of suffering that troubles me, and that is the suffering of the innocent. A child dying of starvation when there is enough food in the world to feed everyone? A family torn apart by the loss of life in a natural disaster? A person tormented in war because of their religious preference or ethnic origins? How can free will explain any of this?

In the simplest response, it cannot. The free will theodicy can explain the bulk of suffering prevalent in the world, but it is not capable of explaining all suffering. In his book God’s Problem (and one of my favorite books on the subject), biblical scholar Bart D. Ehrman notes, “The Bible contains many and varied answers to the problem of why there is suffering in the world.”[1] Some of these answers, he contends, are at odds with one another. The response of Ecclesiastes, that everything in life is “meaningless” or “vanity” may be the surest answer as to why the innocent suffer.

Space does not allow a full treatment of this issue, but in a very personal sense, I am not satisfied with the view of Ecclesiastes. Like the free will defense, Ecclesiastes can explain a great deal of the suffering we see in the world. But as one who has walked through the dark path of grief and loss, I find it exceptionally hard to accept that my innocent mother suffered tremendously for no apparent reason. As one who earnestly believes that “everything happens for a reason,” I have a difficult time believing that my mother suffered in vain.

That is my rant on the issue. Coming back to the point of this entry, free will is not the only definite answer to the problem of suffering. This is a monumental problem that tugs at the heartstrings of each and every individual. It is not solved as simply as 2+2=4. As the Bible makes clear, the solution is as confusing as polynomials. There is not always an absolute answer. I recall struggling to understand how some equations in algebra can result in a positive or negative number. Either answer is correct, although the answers are opposites. I am no math genius, and I hate algebra with a burning passion, but as I learned from the subject, there can be multiple “right” answers to any problem.

The same goes for the problem of suffering. Free will may explain one facet of the problem, while responses from Ecclesiastes or the Prophets may explain another. As one who lived and breathed the church for the majority of my life, I know that the church believes in one absolute answer. You sinned, you failed, and because of that, God is making you suffer. It is ironic to me that this is the same answer Job’s friends gave, and they were condemned by God.

I do not think I will ever understand how God can allow, or even make, the innocent suffer. It is an eternal mystery to me. What I do know is that there is no “one size fits all” solution to the problem of suffering. This idea of divine retribution that the church proclaims certainly has its grounding in the biblical texts, but so do the multiple other solutions offered throughout. I can tell you that whatever you are going through, it is not only because you are a bad person and God is punishing you. There certainly is a reason, but frankly, it is one that you and I may never know.

[1] Bart D. Ehrman, God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question – Why We Suffer, (New York: Harper Collins, 2009), 15.

Five years ago, my mother was diagnosed with stage 4 liver cancer. In the weeks leading up to the diagnosis, I was sure that I was about to experience my best days. I had just graduated high school, after dual-enrolling at my dream school and receiving my diploma and Associate of Arts. I was hired as a coach for the swim team I had been on for several years. I was doing excellent with my full-time job. I was accepted to the same school’s political science program (I was extremely passionate about politics at the time—gross!). I met a girl at my job who I was certain was “the one” for me. Things were going marvelous, and then my best friend, my mentor, my rock was given just a few weeks to live.

I will never forget the night I received the news. My mother called me to her room, closed the door, and explained the diagnosis to me. She recited Job 14:5, which speaks of God knowing the number of our days. She explained that she remained faithful to him and his will for her. She told me that she loved me and gave me a hug that I can still feel to this day. I did not know how to process this news. I remained calm, then went to my bedroom and stood still for a moment. Shortly thereafter, I collapsed on the floor, bawling my eyes out.

Depression entered me, and it has not yet decided to leave. The most obvious signs were the loss of weight and hair. I started drinking heavily. I lost the girl. My family started to fall apart. The only thing going well for me was my job at a grocery store. After the summer semester of studying political science, I quickly learned that I passionately despise American politics and wanted absolutely nothing to do with it. I was ready to drop out and pursue a career with my company, following the footsteps of many of my siblings. But my terminally ill mother would not let that happen.

I told her my plan to drop out of school. She did not want to hear it. She had homeschooled all twelve of her children, but I was the only one she taught from kindergarten to high school. She worked extremely hard to instill a passion for research and writing in me. And of course, I realized I could not let that go to waste.

As we all know, when we suffer, we learn to heavily rely on faith. Whether that is faith in God, in the people closest to us, or even just the faith in knowing that the darkness is only temporary. I had started attending a small Methodist church just months before mom was diagnosed. The church played a special place in my life and I eagerly became involved. In all honesty, I was a bit of a “Jesus Freak” at the time. My beliefs were of vital importance to me at the time, and religion was the other subject I always excelled at in school. After about a week of deep thought, I decided to pursue a degree in theology.

Central to this decision was the question I now deal with in every post on Living by the Logos: why do we suffer? How is it that a loving, merciful God could allow his obedient follower to suffer a terminal illness? How is it that the same God could allow an entire family to collapse at such devastation? How could he allow me to suffer when I was earnestly trying to follow the faith my mother possessed? How is it that he could create an entire species and subject them to endless suffering, from birth to death? Why does God allow suffering?

In this post, I have included a picture of a painting I started around the time I decided to study theology. Art and music have always played a tremendous role in my life. When my mom was sick, I found a new meaning in one of my favorite albums. The Christian rock band Red was and is one of my favorite groups. They released an album when I was going through a hard time in high school titled “of Beauty and Rage.” When mom was sick, I returned to this album and appreciated the deep insight conveyed on the record. There is beauty and rage in every aspect of life. There is good, there is evil. There is suffering, there is hope. There is hate, there is love.

This post is a bit of a mess. I am trying to explain the heart of who I am as a person, where I come from, and where I am headed in just a couple hundred words. There is so much more to expound upon, from this dark chapter in my life to the one I am seeking to close. As I have crawled from the pit of despair once more, I have found myself reflecting on the summer of 2018. At the time, I knew the road ahead was going to be dark and rocky. But I maintained hope that the good always overcomes the bad.

I mentioned in the previous post that I attempted suicide in April. It was not the first time. This time, it has been especially difficult to recover and find myself again. But take this as a word of hope in whatever you are going through right now: darkness is only temporary. You may only see the rage, but always seek to find the beauty in life. Whether that beauty is in God, in others, in nature, or anything else, always seek it out. It may not be apparent, but I can promise you that it is there.

It has been a great several weeks since I last posted. I have more than appreciated the support of those closest to me. I have seen a marvelous difference in the things I have struggled with. I have been able to appreciate my life. I have learned to appreciate the good times as well as the bad. I have been able to reconnect with old friends. I have learned to appreciate the past and embrace the future. Most importantly, I have been able to cling to the words that concluded my last post: there is hope. There is always hope.

I am still fighting my way back. That being said, my posts will likely remain infrequent for a bit longer. But I appreciate your support and the time that you have taken out of your day to read this blog and understand who I am. I hope to write to you soon. Until then, I will remain focused on the fact that my life is certainly a life worth living.

Hello dear friends,

I have been absent from this site for quite a while. I wish to use this newsletter to clarify some things for you and provide some updates.

I recently found myself in the woes of a serious mental health crisis. A number of factors contributed to this event: I tried coming off antidepressants well before I was ready, I was dealing with serious and unmerited stress at my job, finding myself unaware of what I believe and who I am, reexperiencing the grief of losing my mother and childhood trauma, recovering from a relapse in February after 19 months of sobriety, and struggling to maintain relationships with my loved ones due to my own insanity. I lost the job. I lost my closest friends (one to death) and a relationship with the only person who seemed to understand me. Most painful of them all, I lost myself.

On April 23^rd of this year, I attempted suicide. That is truly hard to admit. I have struggled with suicidal thoughts for over half my life, attempting on several occasions, yet this one was the most extreme and consequential. The last times I had attempted, now over two years ago, I felt a sense of relief and contentment to be alive afterward. This time, the thoughts, the plans, the ideas only continued to get worse. I finally made a call that potentially saved my life. I called 988.

I had always been hesitant about calling this number. I feared the police would come and lock me up. It was not so. I was connected with a professional counselor who dispatched a team to come to my home and perform a mental health assessment. I spent over a week in a crisis center. It was coming; I sought therapy after my attempt in April, but that was not enough. My therapist essentially forced me to call the number. Either I would, or she would have me involuntarily committed. Obviously, I took the first choice.

Writing has always been an excellent coping strategy of mine, yet recently I have found it rather burdensome. Especially to dedicate to writing on the problem of suffering and Christianity, which plays a traumatic role in my life alone. That being said, I do not know when or if I will return to posting regularly. Right now, my focus lies in repairing what I can of the damage I caused myself physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It lies in repairing the bonds I have broken, the few that I can salvage. And it lies in ensuring that I do not repeat these mistakes again.

I am in therapy. I am on new medications that have worked better than the ones I was on previously. I have a new job. I have a desire to live and take things one day at a time. And most importantly, I have hope. Part of this recovery process requires me to confess my shortcomings to you, the readers who have supported my efforts. It has required me to be honest with the few friends and family remaining, after causing them extreme worry. Of course, it has required me to be honest with myself. That, my friends, is recovery. It’s a work in progress, but it is one I am wholeheartedly committed to.

There is a certain stigma about mental health, especially where I am in the southeastern US. But it is very real and very concerning. If you or someone you love is struggling, help is available. I was not aware of this help when I needed it most. The danger is real. As someone who struggles with a variety of mental health disorders, I can attest that it is no laughing matter… Despite what your pastor tells you.

Please continue to share Living by the Logos. It is my mission to provide hope to others who struggle. And I hope to return to it soon. But I cannot give hope if I do not have hope to give; the current mission is to rekindle such hope. I am confident that there is hope. There is always hope.

Your thoughts, concerns, and prayers are much appreciated during this time.

I hope to write to you soon,

Luke.

Yet, the church will not face this judgment. You are definitely familiar with the extrabiblical concept of the rapture. Before this day of judgment comes, God is going to rescue the church and place it in heaven. The sins of church-going Christians? Forgotten. Erased. As long as you attend church, proclaim the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and deny your former unbelieving self, you will not face the wrath due to, say, Hollywood.

In Amos, God does not save his chosen from justice. He does not move these people and then destroy the land in which they lived. Because they are his people, they are even more deserving of his wrath. We’ve covered the Oracles Against the Nations. The foreign nations are doomed, no doubt. But Israel, the nation God selected to fulfill his will, faces a lengthier and more painful fate than its neighbors.

Let me clarify that I am not arguing Amos is an apocalyptic book. Its focus does not lie in the end of the world. But it reveals an interesting aspect of God’s character that you will not hear about in the church. God does not overlook the sins of those who recite a statement of faith. Because they are committed to him, and yet continue to stray from his commands, they stand in greater judgment than those who do not know him or reject him.

Open your eyes to the evil of the modern evangelical church. The sex abuse scandals rocking the Southern Baptist Convention (which it tried to hide), the abuses of power and bigotry from Mark Driscoll at Mars Hill Church, the corruption in the Catholic Church that has defined it for centuries. And the list goes on and on. The church is supposed to be a safe haven, a reflection of what heaven is like. But every church I have attended is marred with scandals. And it isn’t just my luck.

A Timeless Warning from Amos

In the prophetic literature of the Old Testament, we find a time in history where God’s chosen were defined by their sin. And God does not rapture them. Consider what Amos prophesies for Israel:

“Now then, I will crush you
    as a cart crushes when loaded with grain.
The swift will not escape,
    the strong will not muster their strength,
    and the warrior will not save his life.
The archer will not stand his ground,
    the fleet-footed soldier will not get away,
    and the horseman will not save his life.
Even the bravest warriors
    will flee naked on that day,”
declares the Lord.

Israel will be crushed. The swift cannot escape. The archer will falter. And the bravest of the brave, the strongest of the strong will flee naked. They do not escape the wrath of God; they are at the very center of it all.

In the preceding verses (2:9-12), God reminds the nation of how he has cared for them. He destroyed their enemies. He orchestrated the exodus. He gave them prophets. He saved the nation from the punishment they deserved. But they continue to neglect him; and this time, he will not revoke the punishment due to them. Shalom M. Paul words this concept with great precision in his commentary: “The acts of kindness of God stand as a stark antithesis to their persistent deeds of disobedience.”¹

Like the previous oracles, we must interpret the oracle against Israel within a military context. The crimes for which the first six nations will suffer are war crimes; the crime for which Judah is indicted is theological. We find a sense of synergy in the oracle against Israel; because they are God’s chosen, the oppression and injustice the nation has caused will result in military defeat. God is not going to simply wipe Israel off the map with natural disasters; he is going to use its enemies to destroy it, and he will weaken the nation to ensure their defeat.²

What does this mean? Imagine you are an Israelite in the sixth century BCE hearing Amos’ proclamation. Surely, you would want to deny this impending doom. A nation is going to overtake us? Well, we have a great army, so good luck! But Amos does not simply say a nation will rise up against them. God, their God, will weaken their strongest warriors. As Tchavdar Hadjiev argues, “Under divine pressure human skill loses its usefulness.”³ And thus, Amos’ message challenges the idea that somehow, some way, Israel will avoid God’s wrath.

Let us return to the present. We hear that the church will avoid God’s wrath at the tribulation. Where do you find this in the Bible? Can you? Not without taking select passages out of context, as the church does with great ease. The church is hardly innocent. They bear the special status of God’s chosen, as Israel did in Amos’ day.

Does this mean the church will avoid God’s wrath? I believe Amos would agree that, no they would not. In fact, they should expect to face the brunt of it all.

Personal Reflection

Not all churches are bad. Not all pastors are scandalous liars. But can we say the global church is innocent? Look at its history. Look at the controversies going on in the present day. I do not think anyone can argue that the church is without sin. If and when the end comes, will the church avoid God’s wrath? A biblical answer would not support the idea of the rapture. A biblical answer would say that the church is due for an even greater punishment than those who do not know God.

I have spent the better part of my life attending church. For a few years, I even worked for a Southern Baptist megachurch. Regardless of denomination, the church concerns itself with lesser things. It’s all about attendance. It’s all about a show. It’s all about convincing the audience to overlook the crimes of the church and support its cause (especially financially!). The church is a business. It is not what the early Christians created, a haven of hope and justice.

It is characterized by rampant injustice. And maybe I’m just crazy, but I believe God will not save the church from what it deserves. I believe the God of the Bible, the God of Amos, the God of the church, will ensure that even the most prominent pastors flee naked on that day of judgment.

1. Paul, Shalom M. Amos: A Commentary on the Book of Amos, edited by Frank Moore Cross Fortress Press, 2016, 87

2. Hadjiev, Tchavdar S.. Joel and Amos : An Introduction and Commentary, InterVarsity Press, 2020, 114.

3. Ibid