I reject the "God won't" position, as I explain in several books. It's not good news to victims and survivors. It says God can prevent evil but won't always do so.
I can't look a rape victim in the face and say, "God could have stopped your abuse but chose not to." That's not loving. A perfectly loving person prevents evil that's preventable.
To illustrate why God's presence isn't enough if God can stop evil, here's a letter sent to me by Monica:
"Let me tell you a bit about my story. I’m a survivor of sexual abuse, a lot and for a long time by my brother. In the midst of the worst years of my life, I had a very vivid dream of God walking over to my bed as I was being raped. God simply reached out, held my hand, and cried.
"For a few short days, I was elated: God hadn’t left me after all! Then came the anger. Anger that God was there, and instead of stopping it, God simply held my hand and watched!
"For a long time, years, I was angry about that. I prayed for a breakthrough. But I never got it, so I buried it. Now paging, praying, and contemplating through your book, I can see more clearly what may have been happening. God could not stop my brother; God gives free will. How could God have stopped him?
"The reality is God couldn’t, not that God didn’t. For me, this is a complete game-changer."
First, a confession. For some time I’ve read and appreciated the contributions both of you—Oord and Richmond—have made. I haven’t read all you have written, but I want to. Second, after a brief stint as a pastor during my seminary years, I served as a hospice and hospital chaplain for about ten years. But most of my ministry has been dedicated to serving as a pastoral psychotherapist. If I include the part time practice while also being a chaplain, this has been my work for almost 40 years. (I also taught in a theological school part time for 23 years.) In short, my entire career has been dedicated to addressing human suffering. This issue is very near to me. So, thanks so much for this discussion.
But, one important thing I think we should add to the mix is a differential diagnosis of suffering. Suffering is not monolithic. It is quite particular, even idiosyncratic. How we (or God) is present to suffering surely depends on the character of that distress. In my book, Caring for Souls in a Neoliberal Age, I identify three major forms of suffering, which I refer to as three “orders.” First order suffering is due to our finitude. It is therefore unavoidable. Obvious examples are illness, death, grief, etc. We might say such distress is “necessary” to our condition. Second order suffering occurs due to what we humans do to each other. Such suffering is, literally, “unnecessary.” This comprises injustice at every level, from interpersonal relationships (insults, abuses, discrimination, murder, rape, etc.) to societal injustices (racism, sexism, class exploitation, etc.), to global injustices (imperialism, colonialism, war, environmental degradation, etc.). This has many implications for this discussion. For example, if we (or God?) limit our response to “presence” without additional action against second order suffering, we might rightly be seen as negligent, or even complicit in injustice. Perhaps presence in this case requires and includes additional action.
Third order suffering has always existed in extraordinary situations, such as civilizational or cultural collapse. But under neoliberal capitalism it has become normative. In other words, neoliberalism creates this form of suffering not when it fails, but in its success, its very existence. What typifies this form of distress is its lack of awareness, its unconsciousness. Kierkegaard, in The Sickness Unto Death, claimed that the most severe level of despair is “despair that is not aware of itself as being despair.” Likewise, third order suffering is “suffering that is not aware of itself as suffering.” In neoliberal societies, this occurs due to the erosion of organic communities (which offer support and solidarity), the erasure of symbol systems and narratives that help express or understand our distresses, and, finally, the fragmentation of the self (diminution of soul) that these first two movements entail.
To confuse matters even more, these three orders of suffering often do not exist in isolation, but become entangled. Obviously, for example, death (and the grief that accompanies it) might not occur naturally, but due to injustice. (This is an entanglement of first and second order distress.) But even this experience is at least aware of itself. We know who or what is doing the harm. On the other hand, third order suffering is not replacing the first two orders. It arises alongside them, and becomes entangled in both. Thus, grief that is isolated from any community, that has no narrative for expression or understanding, that is fragmented, disconnected, and discontinuous, is an entirely different experience. It lacks awareness.
How are we (or God) to be “present” to third order suffering? This is puzzling. But, at minimum, it calls upon us to “make the unconscious conscious.” Neoliberalism works constantly to entertain us, distract us, amuse us, stimulate us, stoke shallow emotions, and so on. We become anesthetized to pain—our own and others. Being present to these sufferers involves helping them become aware, which, ironically, increases their experience of suffering. To an anesthetized observer, the “helper” may even be perceived as cruel.
Forgive this lengthy response. There is much more to say than can be expressed here. Maybe the three of us should have a conversation sometime?
I like the way you think, Bruce! And your suffering typology is helpful. I've used different terminology to try to get at this diversity. Not all suffering is evil, if we define evil as unnecessary events that make the world worse than it might have been. But we all live our lives as if some suffering is evil. Therefore, those of us who believe in a God of perfect love must account for why God does not prevent unnecessary suffering.
Yes. Unnecessary suffering is the matter you highlight, I think, when you articulate the “God can’t” principle. (This might also apply to Loren’s “God won’t” argument.) In my own musings, I think of this as God cannot violate God’s own character. For centuries, Christians have insisted that “God is love.” What is the one thing love cannot do? Love cannot, without violating its own nature, remove the agency of others (even the level of “agency” that may be present in the created order). If God is not love, then all of creation becomes a cosmic puppet, with God as the puppeteer. Such a world is a world devoid of love. But for love to exist, free agency must also exist. And that means things will occur that go against the being and character of God. Do i understand your thinking adequately?
Yes, I think you understand it pretty well, given this short response. Like you, I also conceptualize this inability to control as derived from God's character, although I usually say "nature." I call this "essential kenosis" or "amipotence." To people feeling squeamish about God "can't" and who prefer God "won't," I ask them why they think God "won't." If they say, "God won't because God is loving," I offer a follow-up: Can God choose NOT to be loving? If God's nature is love and God cannot do otherwise, the God "won't" view amounts to my God "can't" view. Because "God won't" can sound like God voluntarily refrains from controlling, however, I don't think it's wise to say "God won't." It's not good news to victims.
And I like the way you think! In this instance, “God won’t” implies the idea that God can choose not to be God (I.e., that God’s very being is not Love). But that becomes a senseless conundrum, similar to the age-old question, “Can God create a rock ‘He’ cannot lift?” It’s a meaningless question.
Thanks for continuing the conversation, Loren.
I reject the "God won't" position, as I explain in several books. It's not good news to victims and survivors. It says God can prevent evil but won't always do so.
I can't look a rape victim in the face and say, "God could have stopped your abuse but chose not to." That's not loving. A perfectly loving person prevents evil that's preventable.
To illustrate why God's presence isn't enough if God can stop evil, here's a letter sent to me by Monica:
"Let me tell you a bit about my story. I’m a survivor of sexual abuse, a lot and for a long time by my brother. In the midst of the worst years of my life, I had a very vivid dream of God walking over to my bed as I was being raped. God simply reached out, held my hand, and cried.
"For a few short days, I was elated: God hadn’t left me after all! Then came the anger. Anger that God was there, and instead of stopping it, God simply held my hand and watched!
"For a long time, years, I was angry about that. I prayed for a breakthrough. But I never got it, so I buried it. Now paging, praying, and contemplating through your book, I can see more clearly what may have been happening. God could not stop my brother; God gives free will. How could God have stopped him?
"The reality is God couldn’t, not that God didn’t. For me, this is a complete game-changer."
- Monica
First, a confession. For some time I’ve read and appreciated the contributions both of you—Oord and Richmond—have made. I haven’t read all you have written, but I want to. Second, after a brief stint as a pastor during my seminary years, I served as a hospice and hospital chaplain for about ten years. But most of my ministry has been dedicated to serving as a pastoral psychotherapist. If I include the part time practice while also being a chaplain, this has been my work for almost 40 years. (I also taught in a theological school part time for 23 years.) In short, my entire career has been dedicated to addressing human suffering. This issue is very near to me. So, thanks so much for this discussion.
But, one important thing I think we should add to the mix is a differential diagnosis of suffering. Suffering is not monolithic. It is quite particular, even idiosyncratic. How we (or God) is present to suffering surely depends on the character of that distress. In my book, Caring for Souls in a Neoliberal Age, I identify three major forms of suffering, which I refer to as three “orders.” First order suffering is due to our finitude. It is therefore unavoidable. Obvious examples are illness, death, grief, etc. We might say such distress is “necessary” to our condition. Second order suffering occurs due to what we humans do to each other. Such suffering is, literally, “unnecessary.” This comprises injustice at every level, from interpersonal relationships (insults, abuses, discrimination, murder, rape, etc.) to societal injustices (racism, sexism, class exploitation, etc.), to global injustices (imperialism, colonialism, war, environmental degradation, etc.). This has many implications for this discussion. For example, if we (or God?) limit our response to “presence” without additional action against second order suffering, we might rightly be seen as negligent, or even complicit in injustice. Perhaps presence in this case requires and includes additional action.
Third order suffering has always existed in extraordinary situations, such as civilizational or cultural collapse. But under neoliberal capitalism it has become normative. In other words, neoliberalism creates this form of suffering not when it fails, but in its success, its very existence. What typifies this form of distress is its lack of awareness, its unconsciousness. Kierkegaard, in The Sickness Unto Death, claimed that the most severe level of despair is “despair that is not aware of itself as being despair.” Likewise, third order suffering is “suffering that is not aware of itself as suffering.” In neoliberal societies, this occurs due to the erosion of organic communities (which offer support and solidarity), the erasure of symbol systems and narratives that help express or understand our distresses, and, finally, the fragmentation of the self (diminution of soul) that these first two movements entail.
To confuse matters even more, these three orders of suffering often do not exist in isolation, but become entangled. Obviously, for example, death (and the grief that accompanies it) might not occur naturally, but due to injustice. (This is an entanglement of first and second order distress.) But even this experience is at least aware of itself. We know who or what is doing the harm. On the other hand, third order suffering is not replacing the first two orders. It arises alongside them, and becomes entangled in both. Thus, grief that is isolated from any community, that has no narrative for expression or understanding, that is fragmented, disconnected, and discontinuous, is an entirely different experience. It lacks awareness.
How are we (or God) to be “present” to third order suffering? This is puzzling. But, at minimum, it calls upon us to “make the unconscious conscious.” Neoliberalism works constantly to entertain us, distract us, amuse us, stimulate us, stoke shallow emotions, and so on. We become anesthetized to pain—our own and others. Being present to these sufferers involves helping them become aware, which, ironically, increases their experience of suffering. To an anesthetized observer, the “helper” may even be perceived as cruel.
Forgive this lengthy response. There is much more to say than can be expressed here. Maybe the three of us should have a conversation sometime?
I like the way you think, Bruce! And your suffering typology is helpful. I've used different terminology to try to get at this diversity. Not all suffering is evil, if we define evil as unnecessary events that make the world worse than it might have been. But we all live our lives as if some suffering is evil. Therefore, those of us who believe in a God of perfect love must account for why God does not prevent unnecessary suffering.
Yes. Unnecessary suffering is the matter you highlight, I think, when you articulate the “God can’t” principle. (This might also apply to Loren’s “God won’t” argument.) In my own musings, I think of this as God cannot violate God’s own character. For centuries, Christians have insisted that “God is love.” What is the one thing love cannot do? Love cannot, without violating its own nature, remove the agency of others (even the level of “agency” that may be present in the created order). If God is not love, then all of creation becomes a cosmic puppet, with God as the puppeteer. Such a world is a world devoid of love. But for love to exist, free agency must also exist. And that means things will occur that go against the being and character of God. Do i understand your thinking adequately?
Yes, I think you understand it pretty well, given this short response. Like you, I also conceptualize this inability to control as derived from God's character, although I usually say "nature." I call this "essential kenosis" or "amipotence." To people feeling squeamish about God "can't" and who prefer God "won't," I ask them why they think God "won't." If they say, "God won't because God is loving," I offer a follow-up: Can God choose NOT to be loving? If God's nature is love and God cannot do otherwise, the God "won't" view amounts to my God "can't" view. Because "God won't" can sound like God voluntarily refrains from controlling, however, I don't think it's wise to say "God won't." It's not good news to victims.
And I like the way you think! In this instance, “God won’t” implies the idea that God can choose not to be God (I.e., that God’s very being is not Love). But that becomes a senseless conundrum, similar to the age-old question, “Can God create a rock ‘He’ cannot lift?” It’s a meaningless question.
I agree!