
I remember clear as day the thought in my mind as we swung out on the blind bend to pass the car in front of us, high up in the Alps: “I hope they’re right!”
Quite what the French car we were overtaking thought, as our Rover 218 with 6 kayaks on the roof screamed (OK, struggled) past, I’m not sure. ‘Les idiots’ is a mild guess.
But thanks to our trusty two-way radios, we felt confident, ish. We were travelling in convey, a sort of default Brits-abroad move that has been bred into our DNA across generations of international explorers. The lead car would radio back to tell us that the road was clear and we can overtake. This way we spent less time in the mountains and more time on the rivers. Made perfect sense at the time.
Thinking back to that part of my youth I am reminded that an act of following is always a step of faith.
Now following might be one of the most natural things to us in the world. As children we learn by following examples of those around us. We grow up following behind leaders: teachers, sports captains, parents etc. It’s a very naturally assumed relationship.
But as we get a little older we often begin to question these relationships. ‘Why am I following this person?’ we might muse – which is the polite expression of an inward belief that we can surely do better ourselves. Questions like this one also come, rather quickly I suppose, after we have been let down. As children, grown-ups can do no wrong. But that doesn’t last for long. A let down by a leader rocks our faith in the assumed understanding that the leader has our best in heart, that they know and care for us and are competent to take us to where we need to go.
Sooner or later we all realise that our leaders – other people – are as flawed and limited as we are. People we look up to can wound us deeply when they fail to live up to our standards for them. A toppled hero can be devastating. A quick look at public reaction when much-loved celebrities become embroiled in scandal is proof enough of this.
This is true everywhere. Work, sports, and yes, sadly, even within the church.
Some will cease following others, and follow their own desire. They’ll set their own path and appoint themselves captain of their one-man ship. And of course, we don’t all look for meaning by following people. We follow teams, brands, entertainment, fashions, the recycling code …
In John’s gospel Jesus makes a series of ‘I am’ claims. He uses these to communicate who he was to his hearers. In one scene Jesus is standing in the treasury – part of the temple in Jerusalem – between two great lamp stands that held many lamps as a representation of the pillar of fire that led the Israelites through the desert at night time.
The pillar of fire was the presence of God, and in following it, the Israelites moved from captivity to their own Promised Land.
In a similar way, we I think seek to follow people, things, desires, dreams … in the hope that they will lead us from where we are – what might feel like captivity to us – to our own Promised Lands.
Jesus, using the two great lamp stands as his illustration, points to himself and says,
“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12, ESV)
Jesus’ invitation is to follow him, and in him find meaning in this life. Jesus doesn’t make this statement without support however. He doesn’t say to people to follow him without looking at who he is, without investigating his life, his death, and ultimately his resurrection.
The tragic thing about a let down is that the real hurt comes not in the sting of the moment, but in the shutting down of that part of us so that we don’t get let down again. People, dreams, hopes: it sucks when they let us down. So we say to ourselves it won’t happen again.
We might sing about all those years of hurt experienced since England last won a major football competition and say we still dream, but we dream with our armour on. We hope against hope that something good will happen, but we also limit our excitement.
When a person lets us down we can vow to never trust to that level again. A failed marriage, or bad boss really can change us. But as Brene Brown rightly points out, “Our capacity for whole heartedness can never be greater than our willingness to be broken hearted.”
Passion, whole-hearted commitment, when we have it drives us to great things. It brings life to our world. But realism says that we should be careful; we should watch out. Jesus asks us to watch him, to see who he is. He asks us to learn that he will never let you down, that he will “never leave you or forsake you.”
The power of Jesus’ perfect life and perfect love to us is that it allows us – and requires us – to take our armour off of our hearts and become wholehearted again. Wholehearted, passionate people, who yes can be hurt and let down by others, but who know that they are following one who will never, ever wound us. By following Christ supremely, we can follow others lightly, allowing their talents and gifts to bring out the best in us, and absorbing their mistakes through the love we have been given by God in Jesus.
The nature of light is that is exposes and reveals what is around us. It identifies what is truly there.
We are told that followers of Jesus “will not walk in darkness” but as people in the light we will see the world truly. Jesus lights up the reality of the world, the good, the bad, the ugly, and shows us how things really are. He doesn’t sugar-coat it, or provide a fluffy cocoon to shield us from this brokenness, but he instils in us bona fide hope for the future and strength for today.
The theme of light has been explored by many minds over many years, perhaps because its qualities and properties are fascinating.
C. S. Lewis in 1944 delivered an essay to the Socratic Club at Oxford University (a university whose motto was and is Dominus illuminatio mea ‘The Lord is my light’) entitled Is Theology Poetry? His concluding words, now surrounding the plaque laid for him at Poets Corner, Westminster Abbey:
“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen, not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”
‘What possible good reasons would God have for permitting evil?’
This is a question often voiced when an explanation of why God might allow suffering is presented. The Free Will argument goes some way to providing an explanation for why a good God might allow suffering. To add to this line of thought it’s worth thinking about the nature of ‘good’ itself. What do we mean when say something is good?
The ancient Greeks were known for their deep thinking – and, thanks to 300, their incredible abs – had some ideas about this. They may have been around a long time ago but I think that they’re not so different from you or I.
One of these Greeks, a chap by the name of Epicurus, decided upon a definition that what is good is that which is pleasurable. If it feels good, it is good. We’re not a million miles from that today in our society. In this way of thinking, a good thing is an event or action that results in pleasure, whereas, correspondingly, a bad thing is a something that results in pain.
There is some truth to this. It is undeniable that many pleasurable things are good. A fun night at the pub with friends that leaves us feeling good, can be truly good! Likewise, breaking an arm when mountain biking is painful, and it is bad! But this definition isn’t large enough to describe the whole picture.
So we then ask, ‘Are there things that are good that aren’t pleasurable?’ Well, what about selfless acts of bravery that risk life to save others? The parents, for example, who are badly injured after running back into their burning house to rescue their young child? We would all want, I think, to say that this is a good act.
Richard Swinburne, Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at Oxford University and one of the top philosophers of religion in the last 50 years, acknowledges that the problem of pain in relation to a world comprised only of pleasurable goods would be a very big problem.
“My suffering would be pure loss for me if the only good thing in life was sensory pleasure, and the only bad thing sensory pain; and it is because the modern world tends to think in those terms that the problem of evil seems so acute. If these were the only good and bad things, the occurrence of suffering would indeed be a conclusive objection to the existence of God.”[1]
Swinburne is saying that because there are some things which are good, which are not pleasurable, we can allow for the painful alongside the good without contradiction. The painful moment never, ever feels nice, but there can exist a deeper element to the moment which is truly good.
In a me-centered culture, where my happiness is king, pain can be a terrible thing. When my felt-happiness is the most important thing for me then I will do all I can to avoid pain.
Perhaps this is why so many people ask ‘Why?’ when the pain comes. As Swinburne observes, the ‘acute’ nature of pain when we’re living for pleasure is a shock to us. It’s a jolt that awakens us to reality that our self-centredness has obscured. In this way, some pain is not without its (valuable) uses, as C. S. Lewis observed[2]:
God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.
[1] Richard Swinburne, Is There A God?, Oxford University Press, 2010, p. 89
[2] C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain, Harper, 2001, p. 91

The following is an extract from ‘The Ulimate Survival Guide: How to talk about God, the Bible, and stuff‘.
The Problem of Evil is something that has gripped the attention of many of the brightest minds throughout history. If God loves us, cares for us, wants our best, then he wouldn’t want us to be in pain, right? And if God is all-powerful, and can do anything that he wants, nothing is too big for him, then he can make sure that we don’t suffer, right? And if God is all-knowing – he knows the future, he knows the choices you are going to make, he knows the ideas and thoughts and intentions of those you interact with – then he knows what will happen and, coupled with his great power, will intervene to stop our suffering, right? This problem, a Trilemma (a three-part problem), needs to be given due thought.
For many people who are in the midst of suffering there might not be much immediate relief given from dealing with the logic of the problem. People in pain want comfort. But this is a two-sided problem, and if we don’t want to give shallow, trite, empty hope to hurting people we need to spend time dealing with the philosophical problem of pain. So here are some reasons to suggest that belief in God, and specifically the Christian God, doesn’t have to ignore this problem, but actually stands strong in the face of it and provides a true hope for all of us.
When we look at one part of this problem, the idea that God is all-powerful, we can take it to mean that God can do whatever he likes. But hang on a moment. Is this true? Would we want to, for example, say that God is a good God if he could lie? The Bible itself states that this isn’t something that God can do.[1] Or would it be possible for God to make a square circle?
It would seem that there are some things that we would want to suggest that God couldn’t do, that nonetheless don’t make him anything less than the greatest being imaginable. Not being able to lie or cheat doesn’t make God less great. In fact, some might argue that this attribute adds value.
How, we might ask, does this begin to answer the problem of pain? On the face of it there’s nothing seemingly illogical about ending the suffering of someone. That’s not making a circle square. These good objections need to be remembered as we continue to dig further.
As well as saying that God is all-powerful, the Christian alongside this will say that God is all-loving. The Bible states it rather simply: ‘God is love’.[2] When we say that God loves us, what do we mean? That he wants our best? Yes. That he doesn’t will any bad thing to happen to us? Yes. Well, if God doesn’t want us to be in pain and God has the power to prevent pain, then the question remains, ‘Why evil?’
It is at this point that the Free Will argument helps us to see through the confusion. To illustrate this, let me share a story from my own life.
When I started going out with Helen, now my wife, it was a slightly nervous time for me. You see, we were friends for a couple of years and the thought of making that transition from good friends to something more was both something that I wanted yet couldn’t be absolutely, 100% sure she wanted. I had a pretty good idea, of course. Helen didn’t strike me as someone who would lead me on!
But the value of our friendship was at stake and in my wanting to transition the relationship to something romantic I had to weigh the risk of losing that state of friendship that we were in. It wasn’t a debilitating problem, and it didn’t stop us from dating. But never did I once think to make absolutely sure that Helen felt the same way I did before making that jump. Helen is an independent, clever, deep-thinking woman. And I love this about her. I wasn’t going to wait until I knew for absolute certain how she felt, and nor was I about to do anything weird to ensure she felt the same way about me. There were no drugs involved in our getting together!
It had to be Helen’s free choice. It had to be this way if there was going to be real, meaningful love between us. I couldn’t force Helen into loving me – even if I had wanted to – it had to be freely offered by her. In the same way for God to truly love us, and to want to be in a meaningful relationship with us, he had to leave the choice for us to love him up to us. I suppose he could if had wanted made a world of robots that were programmed to respond to his love. But would we say this was love by our standards?
Free love, selfless love, is the only true love and God would have to make us this way if he truly loved us. Of course, with this freedom comes choice and responsibility. If we are truly free to love God, then we are truly free to not love God. Both must be true. In this freedom of choice God is not going to overrule our decisions, even if our decisions result in pain and suffering for ourselves and others – what the Bible simply refers to as sin.
This, the Free Will argument offers an explanation for why an all-powerful and all-loving God might allow suffering in this world. At this point however, you might be thinking, ‘Well, this doesn’t sound very good. I’m sure there must be some other way God could have created this world.’ But hold on just a moment. What do we mean when we say ‘good’?
The argument will be extended in our next article.
[1] Numbers 23:19
[2] 1 John 4:8
The whistle went, the crowd booed, and the ref sprinted for the tunnel. It’s safe to say that Scotland vs. Australia did not end up the way that anyone with blue face paint on that day wanted.
The fateful quarterfinal will probably be a memory I carry with me for a long time. We were this close. But, alas, ‘twas not our time.
Watching on my phone, on my way to church, I couldn’t be entirely sure what happened at the very end. The penalty looked harsh, the Scots looked devastated, the Aussies jubilant. Then social media exploded with reactions to the swift exit by Craig Joubert, who refereed the match. Matt Dawson and Gavin Hastings in the BBC commentary box weren’t pleased. The people tweeting weren’t pleased. It just, well, it just wasn’t the rugby way, really.
The next morning came and though the sting of the previous night remained, the edge had lifted (slightly). With time and the subsiding of enflamed passion we came to wonder if we had been a little harsh on Joubert.
The sin binning earlier (was it really a yellow card?) and the penalty at the end may both have been mistakes, but one could hardly say that they were outlandish. Pause long enough and it’s obvious that if only a portion of the action from events preceding those decisions were visible to the ref then the logic of his decisions was plausibly true. Deliberate knock-ons do produce yellows. Offside play results in penalties.
At this moment in time I’m not sure why Craig ran off the field so quickly. Certainly it didn’t look good.
But now I am responsible for my judgement. Ban Mr Joubert from officiating northern hemisphere games? Ask the home office to deny him entry to the UK? Send him back to refereeing school?
The fact that one man runs around a pitch for 80 minutes keeping up with professional athletes and analysing every angle, position, tackle, etc. etc. is quite frankly herculean. The one time I reffed a game (football) I was so focussed on the play that I forgot to start my watch. Longest first half ever.
Referees need minds as fast as their legs, with snapshot decisions cruelly denied the processing time that spectators in days after indulge in. The TMO has afforded the referees some degree of certainty, and when the system works well bad decisions can be prevented or reversed (like an earlier knock-on in the game from Australia, that otherwise left uncaught, would have resulted in a try for the boys in Gold).
Referees make mistakes because referees are human. The larger the game and the perceived injustice is amplified accordingly.
So what then should be my response?
In the moment when passions run high it’s hard to bring the emotion under control. With time, and common sense, it’s easier to see that whatever happened is forgivable.
When people wrong us in life, typically, with time we calm down. The problems begin however when we don’t come off the boil. Some times there are wrongs done to us that are so deep, so painful, so upsetting that time doesn’t heal. Forgiveness is an ideal that seems too far from us. Perhaps we want to forgive, to move on, but we can’t. We just can’t let it go.
I think these instances afford us an opportunity to observe what we prioritise in life. We defend the things most valuable to us, and when these things are threatened or hurt we can react strongly.
If the Scottish Rugby Team is Number 1 in your life (and if it is, you sir take the medal for ‘grandest stoic resistance in the face of protracted misery’) Joubert’s actions are unforgivable. His mistake trampled on your beloved, your idol.
The Christian makes a choice when following Jesus to put God as number 1 in their life. We are defined but what we choose as most valuable, and having a forgiving God as supreme allows us to realise as He forgave us for everything we can forgive others for anything.
Of course, as broken humans – yes, even Christians – we don’t always live up to our promises and standards. We say God is Number 1, but other things have a way of muscling in on the top spot. Our careers, our possessions, our relationships, our dreams – all good things that left unchecked seek to become preeminent in our lives.
All-too-often subtle, it’s only when they are trampled on that they scream at us.
So let us use the painful, ‘damned-if-I-forgive-them-for-that’ moments to enquire of ourselves and ask who or what is most important to me? There is power to forgive all people all things, but it does not come from within but from on high. Setting God as Number 1 releases us from the prison of bitterness and unforgiveness. It sets us free.
Mr Joubert, I wish you well in your future rugby career. Perhaps one day you’ll be there when Scotland triumph in an autumn international series or win the 6 Nations (it’s coming). But even if you’re not, good luck to you.
Shortly after Sgt Mehmet Ciplak picked up the toddler, snapshots from the moment – one that he’ll never forget – bombarded the world. The powerful photographs prompted a furious outcry. The boy was just a toddler. His family were searching for peace after their country had been torn apart. Their European future, awfully close, would never be.
Through the politics, and the opinions, and the protestations, and the answer-searching melee that consumed the online-world, the reality of the situation pierced through it all. The little boy had died and it was a tragedy.
Sadly it is a tragedy all too common but too little observed by those of us far from the epicentre of this horror. But on that day we took note. That son could have easily been our own. The innocence of youth shouted louder than our grown-up arguments. We were moved; we were shamed.
The episode was deeply emotional. Too emotional, perhaps, if that were possible. Accompanying the images, in suit, were the comments and the opinions. The deep and traumatic feelings we experienced at first were later replaced by a haunting suspicion that maybe we had missed something before. Mediterranean deaths aren’t new. Families looking for their future across the sea aren’t new. This tragedy wasn’t original.
We pause to process and our reason catches up to our emotion, like the shy child at primary school who is finally heard after the kid on too much sugar crashes. We reason that our emotion is getting the better of us and we ought to bring everything in to balance. We should consider the wider problem etc. We won’t be hijacked by our emotions, we muse.
But the picture of the boy on the beach doesn’t go away. Artists memorialise him and ensure that he is not forgotten.
The little boy died and that is tragic. It is tragic because he was valuable. He was valuable to his family – to his brother, and his parents. He was valuable to his wider community; he may have even been a part of the rebuilding of his country one day. He was valuable to his never-met host country that would have played home to him for a while.
But his value was so much more than that. This little boy was valuable because he was a little boy; he was a human being. We may reflect our value as humans by the way we love, the way we work, the way we help others, but our intrinsic value is not in what we do but in our very being. When tragedy strikes a fellow human, something inside of us breaks for them because deep down we realise the wrongness of the marring of something so dear.
It was right and appropriate for the watching world to catch its breath and experience a sliver of the pain of this boy’s life. It was right to be shocked and to be shamed. One of our own had died.
Our emotional responses to pictures of suffering point us to the felt reality of our inherent value. Our reason then asks questions of this. How and why are we valuable? What determines our dignity?
It seems to me that we have three options here: we can say that human beings aren’t valuable (pessimistic and dangerous); or human beings are valuable because we say so (wishful thinking); or human beings are valuable because they have been ascribed value (unconditional). History will tell us that the first option has been tried often, and supressed entire nations. The second option is where most of us are probably at now (often a position taken because we don’t like the former). But the third option – commonly rejected out of hand – is truly interesting. If our experiences in this world point to a value that we can’t properly define, shouldn’t our search for meaning ought to look to loftier realms?
If the clues lead us to investigate an area that we don’t want to go, shouldn’t we rethink our underlying assumptions and motives? Europe – by and large – doesn’t ‘do God’. But the outpouring of grief over this tragic loss suggests perhaps, deep down, it so desperately wants to.

A couple of years ago we highlighted some apologetics books worth reading. As we were putting the finishing touches to the new Demolition Squad apologetics book (out next month!) we thought it would be good to include a list of further, recommended reading.
Here is that list for you. 14 apologetics books, across different subjects, with our thoughts on each one. Our hope is that these will serve you well as you communicate Jesus to those around you.
I don’t know about you, but I seem to bump into this objection from time to time, particularly online. The basic thrust of this objection levelled at the Christian faith is that the story of a god’s resurrection is nothing new. That, in fact, it is a popular feature of ancient religious beliefs. Therefore, because we can reject the many other ‘resurrection accounts’ it should follow that we ought to reject Christianity.
That in a nutshell is the logic behind this objection. So to answer the objection we need to tackle the logic. We need to ask questions to pry open assumptions. Questions like, “Should Christianity be placed in to the same bracket as other ancient religions?” “What cultural framework should we interpret these ancient stories by?” “Does the historical accounts of the resurrection of Jesus Christ place that episode into a unique category?” etc.
Focus.org.uk have produced an 8-minute video on the objection that the resurrection of Jesus Christ was borrowed from pagan myths (embedded above). In the clip Focus interview four top scholars on this subject, who take this challenge and begin to respond with some helpful critiques of the question posed.
Each one of the four scholars has contributed to the subject in hand, some at considerable length (see below for further reading). Whilst the answers could fill hours of video, the scholars have cut to the heart of the question to give us a snapshot of the beginning of a response.
Ed: Have you come across this objection? Why not share your thoughts and experiences in dealing with this objection in the comments below?
In addition, it’s worth noting that we have covered the 4 Minimal Facts of the Resurrection on this blog. These 4 facts underline the unique historical grounding for the the Resurrection of Jesus. In this way the evidence sets apart this resurrection narrative from the others found in ancient religions.
Focus have produced many short video responses to common objections raised against Christianity. You can find them online on their YouTube Channel.
Big questions require big answers, but sometimes to get going we all need a pointer in the right direction.
Andy Bannister and Nathan Betts, who work for RZIM Canada, have created a series of videos answering dozens of the hard questions that Christians are asked about their faith. They have already produced 30 answers and the series continues to grow.
They manage to pack in some wonderful responses into just 3 minutes. We have really enjoyed this series and see it as a valuable tool to aid people in sharing the Good News of Jesus.
Here at CVM, we’re busy putting the finishing touches to our first book specifically tackling the common objections to Christianity that we face here in the UK.
Due to be launched in the autumn, this short-read will help you to continue useful conversations with people who have their own big questions about Christianity. We take the questions seriously because every question comes from a questioner who we really want to see meet Jesus for themselves.
You can read an excerpt from the book here.
| 1 | Isn’t religion just a psychological crutch? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 2 | Islam and Christianity: Is it the same God? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 3 | Isn’t faith just for the stupid and gullible? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 4 | What does it really mean to be human? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 5 | Why is the Bible against sexual freedom? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 6 | Is it arrogant to claim you have ‘the truth’? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 7 | Why choose Jesus and not Buddha or Muhammad? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 8 | Prove to me that God exists! | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 9 | How can you believe in God without evidence? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 10 | Is atheism a religion? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 11 | Do all good people go to heaven? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 12 | Why did Jesus have to die? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 13 | What about those who haven’t heard about Jesus? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 14 | Hasn’t science buried God? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 15 | How can you really know what is true? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 16 | If God, why is there evil? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 17 | Who made God? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 18 | Why believe the Bible rather than the Qur’an? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 19 | Why would a loving God send people to hell? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 20 | Isn’t belief in the Trinity irrational? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 21 | Why is there so much violence in the Bible? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 22 | Did Jesus really rise from the dead? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 23 | Does the Trinity even make sense? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 24 | Aren’t all religions basically the same? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 25 | Why do bad things happen to good people? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 26 | Does religion poison everything? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 27 | Why are Christians so judgemental? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 28 | Can we be good without God? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 29 | Hasn’t Christianity done more harm then good? | Vimeo | YouTube |
| 30 | Is life really meaningless without God? | Vimeo | YouTube |
As I approached the roundabout I could see the helicopter through the top of my windscreen. It was hovering, purposefully, keeping a keen eye on something yet unseen by me. I next caught sight of the police bikes. Two of them, both with their riders with their hands in the air bringing the oncoming traffic to a halt. I sat in my car, waiting, and with the other drivers around me wondered what was going on.
Would there be a glimpse of someone famous? A dignitary, perhaps royalty, or a senior politician maybe?
The sirens came next and more police bikes sped through the gap before fast-response cars followed. It was then that I saw the first hearse. It took the roundabout at speed, and was followed in quick succession by eight more. With only a length between each of them it was like watching an ominous race.
They sped off followed by more chase cars, all under the eyes of the men in the sky above.
9 hearses; 9 coffins. 9 of the victims from the Tunisia beach attack. I was suddenly only a few feet away from this shocking episode of evil.
One moment the victims were holidaying on a beach and now under comprehensive escort they were travelling the A40 at record pace. The hearses caught me by surprise. But I remember thinking that no one would have been more surprised than the victims themselves.
We’ve just remembered 7/7 in the UK. The memories from that fateful day are still fresh. The images bring it all rushing back. In a world where atrocities seem to take place at an alarming rate, the horror of evil actions remains shocking when observed by those near to them.
We feel the wrongness of these situations. We think of the pain of those caught up in the events. We mourn.
When the immediate grief subsides people caught up in suffering move from looking for comfort to looking for answers. ‘Why’? And, ‘how’? And, ‘could it have been prevented?’ And so on.
In this tragedy – as in many – there are tales of heroism. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things. The acts of evil, punctuated with humanity’s finest qualities. The good alongside the bad.
It really can be quite hard to make sense of it all. Humans have the capacity for incredible acts of love and we have the capacity for incredible acts of violence.
Everyone who lives has to face the suffering of the world. It is a worldwide problem; it is a human problem.
What we believe about the reality of the world goes a long way to how we answer the problems that we face. Diagnosing the malady correctly is the first step on the road to health.
The Christian understands the world to be full of both happiness and suffering. Human beings have the ability to create, bring life, love well, and serve others. But at the very same time the heart of humanity, of each one of us, has been corrupted, led astray, and all kinds of wrong happen to us, stay with us, and come out of us.
Humans are valuable because they are made by a loving God. They are not a random collection of atoms. We are not accidents. And like tarnished silver, our value is not lost when our appearance has been marred.
At the very same time the Bible does not shy away from the reality of evil. It is full of brokenness. It is full of hurting people. The Bible is not shy to call good, good, and evil, evil.
And the God of the Bible did not remain distant from the suffering of the world, but entered into it and suffered himself.
The world is far from perfect. It is in fact broken. For those that agree with this, the effort must then be placed on finding the solution. The fix. Is it more knowledge? Is it a greater collective human effort? We will do anything: work harder, sacrifice more etc. Our history is full of incredible efforts to this end but while they may have bandaged some wounds, they have not brought lasting health.
We have tried so much and we are left collectively exasperated and worn out. Who or what can we trust to bring us hope?
When we have exhausted the search for answers from within perhaps we should turn to answers from afar and when we do we can look, searchingly, at the life of a man who lived 2,000 years ago who suffered greatly for the people he loved and then astonishingly after a brutal death was raised to life once more.
It’s preposterous. It’s extravagant. It’s utterly different. But isn’t this exactly the sort of answer we need for the problems of the world today? When all that is obvious to us has been tried perhaps it’s time to look beyond our own horizons.
The problems that we face have proven to be huge. The answers that we require will need to be bigger still.
Kidlington Baptist Church held a public lecture series in the Summer of 2015. Featuring four leading Christian thinkers, who also happen to each be an Oxford professor, these talks tackle some of the weightiest arguments against belief in God.
These talks are all available as a free download (below).
We’ve covered some of these topics, religion, science, wishful thinking etc., here on the Demolition Squad blog – but this is a great way to learn from some of the current Christian thought-leaders of our day.
3 June — Atheism is more rational than Christianity (MP3)
Alister McGrath, Professor of Science and Religion, Oxford University
10 June — Religion is bad for the world (MP3)
Keith Ward, Regius Professor of Divinity, Emeritus, Oxford University
17 June — Science has disproved God (MP3)
Paul Ewart, Professor of Physics, Oxford University
24 June — Suffering exists, so God doesn’t (MP3)
John Lennox, Professor of Mathematics, Oxford University