Category Archives: Theology

The Problem of Animal Suffering in a Good Creation—Engaging Ronald Osborn’s Death Before the Fall (IVP, 2014), Part 1

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I’ve been interested in the question of how the Bible addresses the problem of suffering for a long time. This is sometimes called the theodicy problem—from the Greek for God (theos) and justice (dikē). Many writers through history have tried to “justify” God in light of the reality of suffering.

My own interest in this question is based both on theology and personal experience.

First of all, I am drawn to the Bible’s theological vision of a good creation. Having written quite a bit about God’s creational intent for the world’s flourishing (in articles and books), I am keenly aware of the need to grapple with the reality that the world does not at present match up with that ideal.

But it isn’t just that the world (out there) doesn’t match up to this ideal. Around the time I was coming to fully embrace a positive biblical vision of a good creation (having just completed a book on the Christian worldview), my life began to experience serious dissonance from this vision. As a result, I found it difficult over a period of some months to trust in God’s goodness. (I’ve recounted some of this story in a previous blog post.)

During this time I was introduced to the psalms of lament as a powerful resource for renewing trust in God in the midst of suffering. One outcome of this experience was an essay I wrote on the problem of suffering and evil that contrasted the attempt of classical theodicy to “solve” the problem with the more experiential approach of the lament psalms (“Why the ‘Greater Good’ Isn’t a Defense”). Another was the book that Brian Walsh and I wrote on Christian faith in a postmodern world.

The Question of Evolution and Evil

I’m now being pressed to think further about suffering, given what I’ve come to understand about the evolutionary processes uncovered by various sciences (including paleontology and genetics). I am interested in how we might think about the Bible’s presentation of origins (origin of the world, of humans, of evil) in light of cosmic, biological, and human evolution.

I will be presenting a paper that explores the origins of human evil in Genesis 3 in light of human evolution at a conference called “The Intersection of Evolution and the Fall” next March in Chicago.

One facet of this issue is the reality of death and suffering prior to the origin of human beings. It seems undeniable to me that that biological death, animal predation, and natural disasters all predate humanity. We are latecomers on the scene, and plants and animals (from bacteria to dinosaurs) were subject to death by extinction, predation, accident, disease, or simply old age (if they were lucky) long before us.

This means that we can’t reasonably attribute these factors to the results of human sin (a “curse” on nature). Indeed, my own re-reading of Genesis 3 and other biblical texts has helped me realize that the common Christian assumption that nature was systemically affected by of human sin isn’t clearly supported in Scripture. (I’ll get to the origin of this idea later.)

Even with this realization, questions remain. This is where Ronald Osborn’s thoughtful new book comes in.

Ronald E. Osborn. Death Before the Fall: Biblical Literalism and the Problem of Animal Suffering. Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2014.

With vivid prose and an engaging perspective, Osborn addresses the problem of animal suffering for Christians, whether of “creationist” or evolutionary persuasions.

The book is tendentious (in the best sense of that term), arguing both for and against particular positions with passion and verve, yet it does not in the end come to a clear or unambiguous position on its primary topic, namely animal suffering. But the book certainly made me think, which (in my opinion) is high praise.

Osborn on Literalism

There are two prongs to Osborn’s argument, which make it, in effect, two books, or at least a book with two purposes, and two audiences. Part 1 (nine chapters) attempts to help conservative Christians move out of narrow literalism in their reading of the Bible’s creation narratives (by literalism he means an approach to the text that assumes a simple correspondence between what the Bible says and concrete realities in the external world); this approach tends to be associated with a young earth and treats the Noahic flood as the explanation for the fossil record.

Osborn is uniquely qualified to address this sort of literalism, since he was raised in the Seventh Day Adventist church. Although he doesn’t go into details about this, it was the founder of the SDA church (Ellen G. White) who popularized the view that flood geology (and not deep time) decisively explained the current fossil record (this having been revealed to her in a vision, in which she claimed to have actually observed the flood).

This interpretation of the fossil record (along with its assumption of a young earth, and the lack evolutionary descent) informed the hermeneutics of William Jennings Byran, the famous prosecutor in the so-called Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925 (Byran had read SDA literature on this topic). To this day, many in the SDA church are principled defenders of young earth creationism.

Since I do not count myself among those who read the Bible this way, I was less interested in part 1 of Osborn’s book. Nevertheless, there are some good chapters here. These include chap. 2: “Unwholesome Complexity,” which shows just how certain creationist readings end up tying the reader into interpretive knots, and chap. 6: “The Enclave Mentality,” which is perceptive about absolutism and the demonization of the other often found in fundamentalism.

I was particularly taken with the author’s characterization of the anxiety of a literalist reading of Scripture as “a high-stakes game of Jenga” (p. 45), where if you touch one of the bricks near the bottom the entire theological edifice might collapse. However, Osborn’s rhetoric in this section of the book can be dismissive at times, and might put off some readers who need to grapple with the important issues he raises here.

In my next two posts I will address part 2 of Osborn’s book, which explicitly addresses how we might think theologically about animal suffering.

Designed to Work: Made in God’s Image—A Post from Bob Robinson

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Hands.

Hands that can hold a wrench or a paintbrush or a guitar or a scalpel or a child.

Eyes.

Eyes that can look through a telescope to study the glory of the heavens and through a microscope to investigate the intricacies of cells. Eyes that can gaze upon that which is beautiful and that which is ugly. Eyes that can see what is right and what needs to be corrected.

Ears. Toes. Biceps. Knees. Nostrils.

In the beginning there was God, designing a world that he deemed “very good” (Genesis 1:31). And at the pinnacle of this amazing creation were the human beings. Designed by God for amazing and various tasks. Designed by God for His glory.

Yes, human beings are glorious creatures. We are glorious because we reflect the glory of God, who said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground” (Gen. 1:26).

Over against the novel idea that we need to find our self-esteem and find affirmation about how great we are, the Bible says we inherently have dignity because we have been made to reflect God as image bearers. This is both an ennobling thing and a humbling thing, for the glory of being a human being is a derived glory. It shines only because God made us this way, and it is spectacular only because it is a reflection of God.

The Image of God

For centuries, there has been a lot of speculation on what this “image and likeness” means—some say it is our ability to reason, others say it is our ability to relate to one another. Could be. Probably these are major parts of what it means.

But what does the actual text say? According to Genesis 1:28, the image of God looks like a job description!

  1. Be fruitful and increase in number
  2. Fill the earth
  3. Subdue and rule the earth

First, we are designed to be fruitful in making babies and thus making communities of people, living together in flourishing relationships. In other words, reflecting the triune God, we are to relate with each other, lovingly providing for each other’s needs. Families, friends, neighbors, co-workers, and customers. Neighborhoods, towns, cities, states, nations, and the world.

I need to contemplate my relationships for a moment. How am I nurturing them, making space for connections, for hospitality, for conversations? How am I seeking the welfare of the community in which God has placed me (see Jer. 29:7)?

Second, we were designed to fill the earth with our cultural goods, making stuff from the raw material that God has so graciously created. In other words, we are to reflect the creator God by creating stuff ourselves. The whole earth is filled with God’s glory—all we need to do is look around us at the marvels of his creation. Now God tells us to fill the earth as well. And as we do so, the earth is filled with even more of his glory.

Therefore, I need to remember that my work has deep significance. When I contribute to culture by working to provide goods and services, I am reflecting the good Creator of all things, filling the earth with the good things that provide for those around me. How am I participating with God in bringing blessing to others through my work? How is my work a very practical means to love my neighbor?

Third, we are designed to subdue and rule the earth, to place it under our benevolent control. In other words, God makes us his vice-regents in charge of his good creation. But rather than doing what humans often do, we are not to exploit it; we are to “cultivate and care for it” (see Gen. 2:15). And the good creation is not merely limited to the natural beauty of birds and trees, sea and fish, and mountains and elk. The good creation is also all the things that God has dialed into the world—families, business, education, government, entertainment, etc. God is the Lord of it all and has placed us in charge under his rule.

How am I doing in this task of watching over the things of this world? What can I do to see God’s Kingdom come and will be done on earth as it is in heaven? Where I see things that are good, beautiful, and right, how can I help these things develop and be sustained? Where I see things that are wrong, unjust, or sinful, what is God calling me to do about it?

Designed to Work: From Architects to Computer Technicians to Farmers

So it is a very practical thing, this image of God in mankind. We see it play out in all sorts of ways, in all sorts of people, in all sorts of fields.

Take David Greusel, for example. He’s an architect that has figured out how his gift for design reflects God’s glory. David writes,

What does redeemed architecture look like? Does it have Bible verses encoded in the decoration? Scrolls of scripture hidden in the mortar joints? I think not. To my way of thinking, redemptive design seeks the good of the city, and of the people in the city, whether they live or work in the building or not. This means the building has to be a good neighbor, reinforcing the street and not alienating passers-by. It should promote human flourishing, whether as a place of dwelling, work, or recreation, and help people to be, in Andy Crouch’s phrase, most gloriously themselves. And regardless of its use, it should point to a higher reality, not with encoded Bible verses, but with excellence in design and craft. (“Designed to Work: Redeeming Architecture” by David Greusel)

Or look over at Mike Wittmer’s friend Jordan, a computer technician. As Mike observed this young Christian man in his work, juggling the task of fixing the computer in front of him while fielding phone calls for tech support, he is in awe.

Jordan’s job contributes to this larger endeavor. His behind the scenes role supports the technology that enables others to make something of the world … He never lost his composure through the entire ordeal. He exuded patience, the fruit of the Spirit that takes the longest to ripen, and so showed that he has been walking with Jesus for a long time. (“Designed to Work: What Do You Make Possible?” by Mike Wittmer)

And then there’s Billy Coffey’s story of farmers Clive and Darrell Howard, father and son. Darrell has decided that the life of farming is not what he wants, so he plans, “The university first, and then a proper job. Someplace in the city. Downtown, with a view of the skyline instead of the ridgeline. Suits instead of coveralls. Early retirement. The country club.” Clive wants the best for Darrell, but he worries that Darrell has not grasped the goodness of God’s design for hard work. He wants his son to experience how work, in and of itself, brings purpose.

It isn’t that he views his son’s goals as less than the life Darrell had been born into. Whether sitting in a corner office or plowing the back forty, so long as Darrell works, Clive will be happy. Work itself is Clive’s concern, and not specifically on the farm. What place will work have in the life of his son? That’s what Clive Howard wonders.(“Designed to Work: Are We Meant for Toil?” by Billy Coffey)

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Bob Robinson is a writer, speaker, mistake repeater, forgetful husband, silly father, and depender on grace and mercy. He consults with (re)integrate, he ministers with CCO, and he edits with The High Calling, where the above post originally appeared as part of a blog series entitled “Designed for Work” (see below) Read more of Bob’s work at www.re-integrate.org/magazine. Follow his tweets @Bob_Robinson_re.

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Designed to Work

“We are exploring together. We are cultivating a garden together, backs to the sun. The question is a hoe in our hands and we are digging beneath the hard and crusty surface to the rich humus of our lives.” Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation.

Work is not a curse. Before the Fall, God placed Adam and Eve in the garden and invited them to participate with him by cultivating the earth and tilling the soil and coaxing seedlings to find the sun. Our work is one way we participate in restoration. We were designed to work, and our good work is worship. In this series, Designed to Work, we’ll explore together and celebrate the gift of work, given to us by a God who loves us deeply.

What about the Intermediate State in 2 Corinthians 5:6-8? Problem Texts for Holistic Eschatology, Part 4

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The core hope of New Testament eschatology is the resurrection of the body and a renewed earth. This is the central argument of my book A New Heaven and a New Earth: Reclaiming Biblical Eschatology.

But there are some New Testament texts that seem (on the surface) to contradict this holistic vision of redemption. So I devoted two chapters in the book to addressing such “problem texts.”

In previous blog posts I examined two such texts (1 Thessalonians 4 and Matthew 24), both of which are typically thought to teach the “rapture” of believers to heaven at Christ’s return. I concluded that neither text actually teaches this idea.

But my examination of “problem texts” led me to wonder about the so-called “intermediate state” (or “interim state”), the idea of a temporary period between death and resurrection when the righteous (or their “souls”) are with Christ in heaven, awaiting resurrection.

When I began researching the topic I was ready to concede that there might be some sporadic evidence in the New Testament that pointed to such an intermediate state, even though it was clear from Scripture that this was not the core Christian hope.

C. S. Lewis on the Intermediate State

I was thus initially prepared to concur with C. S. Lewis when he stated in his book on Miracles:

“The earliest Christian documents give a casual and unemphatic assent to the belief that the supernatural part of a man survives the death of the natural organism. But they are very little interested in the matter. What they are intensely interested in is the restoration or ‘resurrection’ of the whole composite creature by a miraculous divine act.”

Admittedly, this was a decidedly unbiblical way of putting the matter, since there is no “supernatural part” of a human being; we are thoroughly “natural” creatures. I was nevertheless glad to see that Lewis affirmed that resurrection/restoration was the true focus of New Testament eschatology.

Like Lewis, however, I assumed that a few biblical texts might in fact portray an interim state for the righteous, in advance of their final destiny of resurrection and new creation.

N. T. Wright on the Intermediate State

Like Lewis, N. T. Wright has also affirmed the validity of an intermediate state, which he thinks was accepted by most first-century Jews and the New Testament. He calls this “life after death,” which is why he coins the phrase “life after life after death” to describe the resurrection and renewed creation.

Wright’s point is that while we may believe in “life after death” (an interim state, presumably in heaven), this is not the genuine Christian hope. And he affirms that too much concern with this can detract from our proper focus, which is that God intends to renew earthly life, starting now.

However, my own study of the New Testament texts that purportedly teach (or mention) an intermediate state has convinced me that none of them actually does.

Absent from the Body, Present with the Lord

Since I can’t deal with all the relevant texts here (for that you’ll have to read the book), let me illustrate my point with 2 Corinthians 5:6-8. More than any other New Testament text, this one seems clearly to indicate a blessed hope in heaven immediately after death. Even the literary context of these verses in 2 Corinthians seems to support an otherworldly orientation.

In an extended discussion (stretching from 2 Corinthians 4:8 to 5:10), Paul appears to contrast bodily life in the present with a heavenly, eternal future. At the end of chapter 4 he speaks of our outer nature wasting away, while our inner nature is being renewed (4:16), and contrasts what is seen and transitory with what is unseen and eternal (4:18).

It makes perfect sense, then, that in chapter 5 Paul would say:

So we are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord—for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. (2 Corinthians 5:6-8)

On the surface, these verses seem to emphasize a heavenly future. Doesn’t Paul say plainly that he would prefer to be “at home with the Lord” (presumably in heaven) than in his present body (on earth)? Doesn’t this clearly teach the hope of heaven that begins immediately at death (when we are separated from our bodies)?

I think we need to be just a bit suspicious of our habituated approach to such texts, given the biblical teaching of God’s plan to redeem creation.

Paul’s Desire for the Resurrection Body

The first thing we should note is that Paul has already stated in 5:1-4 that his actual hope is for the heavenly dwelling that God has prepared (the resurrection body). Speaking of the contrast between the present body and the resurrection body, Paul says:

For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling—if indeed, when we have taken it off we will not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan under our burden, because we wish not to be unclothed but to be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. (2 Corinthians 5:1-4)

Using the metaphor of the body as a dwelling or house, Paul says he doesn’t want to be “naked” or “unclothed” (that is, disembodied) in the eschaton, but rather to be clothed with a new, resurrection body, a building or dwelling prepared by God, hence “not made with hands” (5:1).

Paul’s use of the phrase “not made with hands” for the resurrection body (pictured as a building) may be dependent on the words attributed to Jesus: “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands’” (Mark 14:58).

While the resurrection is future, Paul affirms that we already have—in some sense—the hoped-for building or dwelling “in the heavens,” which is being made or prepared by God himself. This is part of a pervasive New Testament pattern of texts that indicate that what God is presently preparing for us (in heaven) will be revealed (on earth) at the coming of Christ.

Does Paul Have Contradictory Hopes?

Here it is important to note that Paul clearly states in 5:1-2 that his hope is for the resurrection body and he affirms in 5:3-4 that he does not want to be “naked” or “unclothed” (that is disembodied).

And yet Paul says that he prefers to be away from the (present) body and at home with the Lord (5:8).

Could Paul have contradictory hopes? Does Paul long for the resurrection while shunning a disembodied state and also prefer a disembodied state to his present life?

Perhaps he has a hierarchy: the resurrected body, then a disembodied state in heaven, then the present earthly body? Many read the text this way.

The Connection between Resurrection and the Presence of the Lord

However, we don’t need such an artificial solution to this seeming contradiction. Rather, we need to pay attention to Paul’s key statement near the end of chapter 4 about the basis of his hope even in the midst of tribulations and suffering (4:8-12).

The reason Paul says he can live faithfully in the midst of suffering is that: “we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and will bring us with you into his presence” (2 Corinthians 4:14).

Note that there is no separation here of resurrection and being with Christ. Not only does Paul look forward to the resurrection, but he conceives of being in a resurrected (embodied) state in the Lord’s presence.

Being “in the Lord’s presence” in 4:14 is equivalent to  being “at home with the Lord” in 5:8. There is no convincing reason to separate this latter statement from Paul’s hope of resurrection, except that we are habituated to reading the text this way.

In context, Paul is not speaking of being with Christ immediately at death. Rather, he is looking to the second coming, at which time we will be raised and be with Christ in the new creation.

A plain reading of 2 Corinthians 5:6-9 in the context of 5:1-2 and especially 4:14 thus suggests that being at home with the Lord is nothing other than Paul’s expectation that the Lord will dwell with redeemed humanity in a new creation (the vision of Revelation 21-22).

Thus it is not at all clear that 2 Corinthians 5 actually teaches an intermediate (disembodied) state as any part of the Christian hope.

Beyond Lewis and Wright

Thus, much as I respect C. S. Lewis, I think he may have been wrong in his comment about the New Testament’s “casual and unemphatic assent” to personal survival at death. And N. T. Wright (a contemporary scholar for whom I have the utmost regard) may also have conceded too much in his claim that Second Temple Judaism and the New Testament typically assume an intermediate state. Having studied the relevant texts I am surprised at how little evidence there actually is for this idea in the New Testament, certainly less than I had expected.

In the end, however, it does not matter. Authentic Christian hope does not depend on an intermediate state; neither do Christians need the Platonic notion of an immortal soul in order to guarantee personal continuity between present earthly existence and future resurrection life.

The Basis for Christian Hope

The God who brought the universe into being is the guarantor of the eschatological future. In the memorable words of 2 Timothy 1:12 (which became the refrain of a famous 1883 hymn by Daniel W. Whittle): “I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day” (KJV). We place our hope in the God of Jesus Christ, the Lord of the universe, who is able to raise the dead and who has promised to renew heaven and earth.

Whatever we think about the intermediate state (and I acknowledge that belief in such a state is dear to many Christians), it is clear from Scripture that “heaven” is not the final destination of the redeemed. Even supposedly “problem” texts fit remarkably well with the dominant tenor of Scripture, which portrays the redemption of the entire created order and understands human redemption as the restoration of bodily life on earth—that is, the renewal of God’s creational intent from the beginning.