No easy answers

Jesus took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them. Mark 10:16

Where was God when Arthur Labinjo-Hughes, age 6, was tormented to death by the people who were supposed to be looking after him?

It’s an uncomfortable question to ask, isn’t it? - especially for those of us who are Christians and who believe in the God revealed to us in Jesus. Why didn’t God do something?

An uncomfortable question indeed. But a question I think we must, in integrity, face up to. For many people who are not Christians will ask it in their minds if not out loud. What would we say if one of them decided to put us on the spot: “Where was this God of yours? this God you make so much of? How could he allow such a terrible thing to happen? How could he stand by while Arthur staggered around wailing ‘There’s no-one to look after me. There’s no one to feed me’?

“You say he is all-powerful – which means, surely, he could have stopped it happening. And you say he is all-loving – which means, surely, he would have stopped it happening. So either he is not all-powerful or he is not all-loving. Not much of a God! Or perhaps he just doesn’t exist at all…”

Any answer we offer would probably be along the lines of the freedom God has given to human beings to do evil if they so choose. We are not robots, pre-programmed always to do the perfect will of God; no, we are free agents, and if we choose to do evil there are bound to be repercussions. In this particular case the consequence happened to be the horrible suffering of a little boy.

Arthur Labinjo-Hughes is therefore a terribly prominent example of what human evil can do; horrible, terrible things are, after all, happening all over the world every minute of every day. At this very moment something equally horrible could be happening just round the corner from where you or I live – we just aren’t aware of it.

Such an answer to the person questioning us would be true. But it gives cold comfort. The fact is that Christianity has existed for two thousand years; and throughout those two thousand years some of the holiest and wisest Christian people have struggled to offer an explanation of “the problem of evil”. And none of them has succeeded fully.

One twentieth-century theologian wrote a book called Love almighty and ills unlimited, which was an attempt to tackle the question head-on. But while the title captured the mystery nearly perfectly, and while the book argued at a high level - both humble in spirit and philosophically sophisticated, using scripture thoughtfully and human reason too - no-one would claim it got to the bottom of things.

So what’s the point of someone like me writing my little blog? Probably no point at all. My only excuse is that it seems almost cowardly to be confronted with such a question and not try at least to grapple with it. (I claim poor, suffering Job as my inspiration.)

What strikes me is this. While we naturally look for explanations to hard questions like this (and that’s not wrong – God has given us minds, after all), explanations are rarely what we find in the Bible (think Job again). But what we do find, often, are stories. And in this case I find it hard not to think of the beautiful story of the parents bringing their children to Jesus – a greater inspiration, of course, than Job! - and of Jesus’ anger when the disciples tried to turn them away.

It appears in each of Matthew, Mark and Luke, in slightly different forms.

Luke tells us that Jesus “called the children to him” and pronounced that “the kingdom of God belongs to such as these”, but not that he did anything, though it is obviously implied that he “placed his hands on them” (Luke 18:15-17).

Matthew spells it out that Jesus “placed his hands on them” (Matthew 19:13-15). Can you see him?

But Mark adds another little detail: not only did Jesus place his hands on the children, but “he took the children in his arms”, where the word used carries the idea of “enfolding” them - “cuddling” them might be a good translation (Mark 10:13-16).

Of course the story doesn’t directly tackle the tragedy of what happened to little Arthur. But would it be wrong to apply it to such things? It’s hard to think so.

So… I find Mark’s extra little detail very comforting. I see in my mind’s eye Arthur Labinjo-Hughes enfolded now in the arms of Jesus, free of all pain and with every memory of his suffering completely erased.

Does that mental picture fully answer the question, Where was God when these things happened? No, of course not. Am I guilty of building teaching not on scripture but on wishful thinking? I hope not.

I think, simply, that it is the nearest the Bible comes to giving us an answer. Certainly it is the best I can come up with. Would anyone like to offer something better? Or tell me where I may be wrong? Please feel free!

Lord Jesus, thank you for the compassion you feel for the sufferings of the human race – a compassion which was enough to take you to the cross. As we grapple with the mystery of pain, please fill our hearts with your compassion, and even where we are unable to fully understand, to do all we can to bring that compassion to those in pain. Amen.

Soften my heart, Lord, soften my heart.

From all indifference set me apart.

To feel your compassion, to weep with your tears.

Come soften my heart, O Lord, soften my heart.

Graham Kendrick