The assigned reading in my religion class was Elie Wiesel’s Night. A few pages in, this college sophomore found a profound gem. I can’t find the exact quote, but some passage led me to realize that I can’t explain the meaning of another person’s suffering. To impose or even suggest a reason for why another human being or group of people endured evil was an act of cruelty. I shared my brilliant insight with my professor who promptly retorted: “Of course you can’t! Duh!” I received a “duh” from one of the smartest people I’ve ever encountered. I was humbled. Compared to others in the field, I am still that wise fool.

In my search for that quote, I found three even better Elie Wiesel quotes:

1. “It is not always events that have touched us personally that affect us the most.”

2. “Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith forever.”

3. “I did not deny God's existence, but I doubted his absolute justice.”

It’s not always events that have touched us personally that affect us the most.

For those who have suffered personal loss or been in the presence of true evil, I have no other response than to weep with you, grieve, and provide full acceptance as you vent pain and anger. There are no words. Just silence. I hope you find the resources you need to recover and heal. I then want to link arms with you to help dissolve the source of anger if it was at the hands of another person, group, or societal injustice. If you’ve been rejected or condemned by bigotry, intolerance, racism, or emotional/spiritual abuse from the community with which I strongly identify - Christians - would it be okay if I apologize on their behalf?

As a young and immature Christian, I harmed my best friend in high school. I told him that I couldn’t be his best friend anymore because his new girlfriend should be his best friend based on something I heard in a sermon. I didn’t know how to handle the changes that were occurring inside of me as I developed my faith. I alienated myself from my group of friends. I quoted cryptic lyrics from Christian songs, and they, in their love and concern, saw the school psychologist on my behalf to see if there was any help they could offer me. I did the best I could as a ninth grader, and I’m sorry that it caused a rift. For this mistake and several more insensitive things I’ve said to friends and strangers, I apologize for myself and on behalf of my Christian family. There are a lot of us ninth graders walking around in adult bodies. It doesn’t rectify the bruises, but I hope it’s an opening toward dialogue.

For the events that do not touch us personally, my own sensitivities cannot fathom the depths of horror and suffering in our world history on a level that rivals the sting I feel for my own personal suffering. I’m just too self-centered, and my heart wasn’t built for world empathy. But some truth seekers’ hearts truly break when confronted with accounts of events that cannot be explained in any other way than originating from the pits of hell. And even in my use of metaphor, I realize that my description cannot be captured in prose alone. The emotions are valid and I can understand why the only logical conclusion for some is that God does not exist or is not good. How much more can I respect the position of those who’ve experienced personal suffering who come to the same conclusion? Or at least withhold a conclusion pending further evidence? Rather than add pain with another act of cruelty, I can only offer how I’ve wrestled with personal suffering and the impact of true evil on my life. This is not to impose that my story should be yours. And I offer my story only to those who are open to listen.

Never shall I forget those flames that consumed my faith forever.

I’ve had my share of experiences or flames that weakened my faith. Whether it be neglect, loneliness, or personal loss, I wrestle with the same questions as any other man, woman, or child - is there a God who is good in light of my past and present suffering?

I’m also a skeptic and identify with the disciple Thomas, known for his doubts. A group of friends couldn’t convince Thomas that they saw Jesus with their own eyes. Me too. As compelling as the historical record is that some “event” occurred that transformed a few scattered disciples into the beginning of a world movement, I need to have my own encounter with Jesus. I also say that I will not believe until I have placed my fingers in the holes made by the crucifixion nails. My God encounters have come in the most pain-filled moments of my life. Through the depth of feeling the emotional scars in my own heart, I’ve had many personal encounters with Jesus. As the God of the universe comforted me in my silent cries (because I didn’t want anyone to hear), I touched Jesus’ nail-scarred hands as he held my tattered heart. He grieved with me and wept with me. He let me vent my full anger and sorrow. And not that this serves as the reason or justification for my suffering, but there is a redemption. I get to comfort others with the comfort I myself received.

My faith is indeed consumed in the flames. But it is replaced by something more durable - knowledge. I have no other basis than my subjective experiences, my God encounters. I used to say that I know Jesus is alive because he lives in my heart. I used to share a riddle I once heard. The question is, “What’s the only thing in heaven that’s man-made?” And after letting my audience ponder the question for awhile, I triumphantly give the answer, “The scars on Jesus’ hands and feet.” I might then refer to a song from my youth group that says, “And when the heavens pass away, all your scars, they will remain. And forever they will say, just how much you love me.” All of those quasi-explanations fall short of the current mess of my life. So I’m once again wrestling with God. I’m convinced that there is no single answer, but there are as many answers as there are individuals seeking to find meaning in their suffering. I am one individual. I have since found others who have struggled and share their stories for redemptive meaning in suffering. I’m so grateful for them because a major component of the pain I felt growing up was the naked loneliness - day in and day out loneliness - that so defined my adolescence. I have two prayers for you: (i) that you would not feel alone and (ii) that you would have more experiences of good than evil.

I did not deny God’s existence, but I doubted his absolute justice.

I’ve stopped engaging in the debate of God’s existence. Like Wiesel, many do not deny God’s existence. Further, there is no objective argument that disproves an all-loving and all-powerful God in light of human suffering when individuals have subjective experiences. And honestly, I’m happy. Just let me be happy believing that a sovereign God exists and loves me unconditionally, even though you think it’s without merit or unwarranted. I’ve already written a 100-page paper on this topic, and there is no shortage of intellectually satisfying treatments of this field of philosophical and religious inquiry called theodicy. One popular name is “The Problem of Pain.” Though I intend to address the question of God’s absolute justice in another article, I’d like to wrap up this question of God’s existence with another. I call it “The Problem of Original Sin.”

Christians refer to the story of Adam and Eve who disobeyed God by eating from the tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and then brought original sin onto the human race. Just like the Problem of Pain presents a challenge to those who believe in the existence of an all-powerful and benevolent supreme being, the Problem of Original Sin presents a challenge to naturalists, atheists, and agnostics. My challenge is whether humanity has the ability to reason to God’s existence given the Knowledge of Good and Evil? And why is original sin is tied to the knowledge of good and evil?

The first question is not new. It is referred to as the “Moral Argument” which is an intellectual argument for God’s existence. I don’t know why but we covered a bunch of other arguments in my philosophy of religion class in college, but only discussed the moral argument because I brought it up. I read C.S. Lewis in tenth grade and remember how compelling it was. There seems to be an invisible moral law that we all abide to. As kids, we’ll argue about what’s fair. And even when we debate, the very ability to cite an exception to the “rule” points to an appeal to a higher concept of right and wrong. “That’s my seat because I was there first!” “Yes, but you left for more than 15 minutes.” “True, but I asked mom to save the seat for me.” C.S. Lewis writes, “conscience reveals to us a moral law whose source cannot be found in the natural world, thus pointing to a supernatural Lawgiver.”

The follow up question is my own. And it can stand independent from the first. For me, the question is a paradox and asking it gives my heart a flutter of excitement and wonderment in who this God-character is. Did God really work out the solution in the fall? That even in our disobedience, that knowledge of good and evil was a bit of mercy so that anyone could use practical reason to conclude that God exists. Has God’s always been there this whole time?