Good Morning and happy Friday, digital neighbors from across the interwebs! I hope this week has treated you well; and if it hasn’t, I hope the coming weekend will bring you some relief—or at least release from it. If that isn’t possible, I do pray you have the means to find support in bearing your burdens, whether through a good friend, a caring community, or your belief in a Higher Power who is personal. (And if you’re wondering, “If God doesn’t give a crap, why bother?”—fair question. Keep reading.)
The problem of evil, of course, challenges believers to wrestle with the reality of so much brokenness in this world. How can a good God allow so much evil—and for so long? It is, in my view, the single most serious argument against the existence of a God who is all-knowing, all-powerful, all-good, and all-loving. So much suffering makes us wonder whether one or more of those attributes must be false. My best answer is that God’s permissive will allows it, while His salvific will continually invites us to trust and seek Him. For people buried under pain, that can feel like the hardest part of faith. In those moments, others—especially fellow pilgrims and disciples—need to show up. We listen, empathize, support, and encourage.
I’m not a fan of the line “God never gives you more than you can handle.” I don’t believe God sends misfortune into our lives; He permits it. That distinction can still feel brutal. I don’t believe God is micromanaging your life, but He is micro-observing it—sending subtle, humble graces that are easy to miss when we’re drowning in sorrow or anger. Those graces are meant to be lifelines: a nudge, a brush with the Divine, a quiet reminder that He does, in fact, care and pay attention.
I actually think God allows us to be stretched beyond our limits all the time. That stretching is often an invitation to truly trust Him—not just to claim we do and then turn on Him the moment adversity hits. The Bible is full of stories showing how quickly we distrust, accuse, abandon, or ignore God. Yet He chastises and immediately offers a path back: reconciliation, redemption. God did not create us to damn us. He created us to know Him. In knowing Him, we grow to love Him and seek His will—even though He needs nothing from our service or worship. It’s hard for many to accept that serving and worshiping God is ultimately for our good, not His.
All of this musing was prompted by watching A Christmas Carol last night. It may be the greatest Christmas story of change ever told. Scrooge is trapped in wealth and bitterness—rich in coins, profoundly poor in humanity. I watched the 2009 Disney version (with Jim Carrey), and it’s among my favorites. I still give a slight edge to the Patrick Stewart one, but that’s neither here nor there. The dreams, the spirits, the relentless confrontation with his life—it’s all about change and reassessment. I’ll either watch or listen to a few more versions before my Christmas celebrating is done. This year the season stretches all the way to January 11th!!! (Yes, I’m already hearing Spinal Tap in my head: “This one goes to eleven.”)
“Mankind was my business. Charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”
Marley says no rest or peace will come to him unless Scrooge is saved. As he departs, Scrooge sees countless ghosts bound by the chains of their sin and indifference—a truly purgatorial moment. Scrooge will either be purged this very night or damned forever. Then comes the moment with the Spirit of Christmas Present, when the robe is lifted and two wretched children are revealed:
“They are Man’s,” said the Spirit, looking down upon them. “And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased.”
Both Ignorance and Want are dangerous, but Ignorance is worse. It breeds indifference; indifference breeds hatred; hatred unleashes endless varieties of crime and violence. Ignorance frees us to hate on unimaginable levels. The Spirit warns Scrooge—and us—to care about ending both Ignorance and Want. But is more essential to end ignorance than want.
With the final Spirit, Scrooge’s heart finally cracks open, and we all know how the story ends. It remains one of the greatest tales of transformation ever told. Have a blessed Friday, dear neighbor!
Snow child - Kateryna Hliznitsova - Unsplash
