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Book Review: Christ and Human Suffering by E. Stanley Jones

Reviewed by Rebecca Lewis

Is God the author of human suffering? Why should we do anything about it? These are timeless questions asked the world over that E. Stanley Jones eloquently addresses in his book, Christ and Human Suffering, (published 1933). No one is better able to address this than Jones, who spent much of his adult life living in China and India, where suffering of the masses, and of the individuals trying to help them, was extreme.

Jones begins by honestly addressing the fact that God does not deliver the righteous from all suffering as we often expect or hope. He concludes, " something better than deliverance [is what] we must search for" if we are to understand Jesus' solution to the problem of suffering. He then proceeds to distinguish between "evils from within," due to choices of our own wills in self-injurious defiance of the moral laws of the universe, which we call sin, and "evil that comes from without," which we call suffering.

In order to address the full spectrum of suffering, Jones identifies nine different types of suffering based on Jesus' warnings about the end times in Luke 21:8-19. He faces these with humility and compassion, fully empathizing with the disillusionment of those who, doing their best to serve the Lord, find themselves bereaved of children or spouses, homes, or health, or those subjected to violence from man or nature, persecution, or, the most intimate of suffering, unhappy families.

All of humanity recoils from the injustice of suffering, so any discussion of the topic is inadequate without delving into the various ways that humans have decided to explain and to face suffering. Here Jones' global experience is invaluable, as he again shows humility and understanding of the answers societies have found.

 In brief, he explores the following:  Stoicism of the West — suffering is inevitable and impartial, courage equals "unyielding despair" (B. Russell); Buddhism — suffering comes from desire, cease suffering by ceasing desire/being; Hinduism — suffering is just, Karma, accept suffering as your due for deeds done in previous lives; Vedanta Hinduism — suffering is illusion, Maya, withdraw into Atma/the unconscious mind of the universe; Islam — suffering is God's will, the godly submit to it and accept suffering as God's plan; Judaism — suffering will be made right, ultimately God will bless the righteous and punish the wicked; un-biblical Christianity — suffering is God's way of developing our character.

While all of these viewpoints nobly try to make sense of the problem of suffering, they all produce inaction in the face of both individual and corporate suffering.

Jones dedicates the rest of his book to going step by step through the ways that Jesus spoke about and addressed suffering. He shows that Jesus teaches that, while people do reap the consequences of "internal evil," their own sins and the sins of those around them ("the fact is we do not break this [moral] law, we break ourselves upon it"), that the suffering of "external evil," is neither inherited nor authored by God, nor is lack of suffering a sign of God's special favor.

While all of these viewpoints nobly try to make sense of the problem of suffering, they all produce inaction in the face of both individual and corporate suffering.

Jones argues that Christ, far from withdrawing from or submitting to suffering, "represents the most amazingly active method of dealing with life," not merely teaching but showing us how to overcome evil with good. "With little explaining and no explaining away," Jesus shows us how to take hold of life at its direst points, and proactively turn what Satan intended for evil into victory. He came to give life and life more abundant, not primarily through the miracles of healing and deliverance from suffering, which he does do on occasion;  but, as he works out in his own life, by a "victorious vitality" that brings a greater life from the ashes.

 "The religion of Jesus does mean these three things: victory over sin, victory over self, victory over suffering."

Through the giving of many examples from the life of Jesus and those who know him, both in history and in his current experience, Jones shows that "the will of God was to be done, not by acquiescence but by activity — it was to be done by taking hold of the whole miserable business and turning it into a triumph of the love of God." Far from nursing our own hurts through self-pity, self-protection, apathy, anger, or noble despair, "Jesus would call us to sound the depths of life and to live dangerously there, to grapple with the great issues of life and show Life through them," what Jones calls "the highest expression of the will to live."

With depth and perception, Jones spends six chapters working out the objections to, difficulties, and results of the peaceful but purposeful activity that comes from this faith. Before his crucifixion Jesus said, "You will leave me all alone. But I am not alone, the Father is with me. I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:32b-33).

Indeed, the victorious Christ is also with us always, and just as "God was in him reconciling the world to himself," so also God's Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, is in us. As his disciple, John affirmed from his own experience, "You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world" (I John 4:4).

I highly recommend this book to anyone struggling with the problem of suffering and seeking to understand and, most importantly, to live God's way, overcoming evil with good, the way of Christ.

Rebecca Lewis studied history at both the BA and MA level, and holds an MA in International Development from WCIU. She taught at the university level for over ten years and has worked on curriculum development for 30 years. She has lived on five continents, most lately in India with her children and grandchildren, where she consulted on curriculum development for Indian government school teachers.

Founding the Roberta Winter Institute

In case you haven't noticed, things are looking pretty good over here at robertawinterinstitute.org. Along with our sharp new website, we have added some fantastic content and pages detailing the ins-and-outs of the institute. 

The Birth of an Institute follows our timeline from the Winters' early days among the Mam people in Guatemala, through Roberta's cancer diagnosis, which led Ralph to the pivotal shift in understanding upon which the RWI is founded. Ironically and tragically, not long after establishing the RWI, Ralph was diagnosed with the same disease that took Roberta’s life (multiple myeloma).

Through the establishment of the RWI, he was able to disseminate "some of the most interesting and far-sighted ideas of his career," before being taken out by the very “works of the devil” he was seeking to destroy. But the vision lives on, read the full story of the passing of the torch and RWI's continuing endeavours to ignite in the body of Christ a theological shift regarding disease and its eradication.

Posted on January 27, 2015 and filed under Third 30, Blog.

This Week's Links: The Root of Cancer and the Ethics of Ebola

By Emily Lewis

In our weekly links blog we like to share things, new and old, that have taken our interest here at the RWI. We don't always agree with the source or theory, but we find them to be important contributions to the discussion of disease eradication and/or theodicy.

From the Independent Cancer Research Foundation, here's an interesting and easy-to-read explanation of what might be the root cause of cancer. This is the microbe theory of cancer and the article explains in some detail how the tiny terrorists, also called "microbes," turn a cell cancerous, and what we can do to kill the microbes that cause the cancer in the first place.

Oncologist David Agus, who believes inflammation to be the root cause of cancer, also attests that the key to beating it is to address the problem before it starts. “I want doctors to treat toward health and not toward disease.” Read his five tips for prevention.

Yet another theory for the root of cancer: infection. The BBC reviews Lancet Oncology's report that two million cases of cancer a year could be prevented with proper use of vaccines and antibiotics.

But cancer is not the disease most people are talking about today, in the global fight against disease Ebola is the star of the hour. As we shared on Facebook and Twitter earlier this week, Bjorn Lomborg at the Guardian questions what we should be prioritizing, "It may sound cold-hearted to set health priorities based on cost-effectiveness, but it’s actually the best way to do the most good in the world with limited resources."

The truth is, there are a lot of complicated ethics involved in tackling disease. In this thought-provoking article from Forbes Matthew Herper discusses the ethics of ebola vaccine trials

At the beginning of his article, Herper contends, "Ebola virus and other emerging infectious diseases for which we don’t have effective treatments are the reality in public health. And they’re expected to keep on coming."

What do you think? If this is true, how should the people of God respond?

Scary God or Scary People?

The author Mark Twain famously said that “to trust the God of the Bible is to trust an irascible, vindictive, fierce and ever fickle and changeful master," and many would agree. Even Christians struggle with an Old Testament God who commands genocides and describes himself as both vengeful and jealous. 

But in this essay Brad Cole attests that "The message of the Bible . . . points to the character of God as being all-good, all-loving, and even incorporating supreme humility, service and kindness." The only right way to see the God of the Bible is through the lens of Jesus, who came in the flesh to clear up any misconceptions. 

"Eternal life is through a person, not a book, and this book is only helpful if we read it in such a way that all 66 books bring us to the Person of Jesus Christ." Follow Cole as he walks through the passages that give full meaning to the message of the Old Testament, as explained by Jesus himself. 

Posted on January 22, 2015 and filed under Third 30, Blog.

Don’t Call Me a Sissy

By Brian Lowther

My brother is five years older than I am. When we were kids, he was bigger, stronger and better than me at everything. This gave him plenty of reasons to pick on me, make fun of me, call me names, you know, brother stuff. I think my experience was pretty typical. He wasn’t a terrible brother, or a bad person. I probably would have done the same if our roles were switched. But when he’d call me a name, or make fun of my big head—which was admittedly disproportionate—I would lose my temper. I'd scream at him and then I'd go inside and tattle to my mother.

One fall afternoon we played wiffleball in our front yard, something we did most every fall afternoon. He was the pitcher. I was the batter. He threw a fastball. It blew past me and then I swung. I missed—of course—and struck out. He celebrated. I threw a tantrum. This gave him yet another reason to lampoon me. Ordinarily he was fond of garden-variety insults like “Lame-o” or “Idiot” or “Dipstick.” But on very special occasions he’d call me a name that would make my blood boil: “sissy.” He knew how to push my buttons, as most siblings do. I hated being called a sissy with a white-hot hatred. So I went inside.

“Mom, Tim called me a sissy,” I said with seething fury.

My mother's advice: “You go outside and you tell your brother that he is a typewriter.”

A typewriter?

That was her impenetrable comeback that would cause my brother to reevaluate his browbeating ways and immediately apologize?

You can understand why she would say this. She didn’t want one son to insult the other son. So she chose the first harmless inanimate object that came to mind. As a six-year-old trying to one-up my older brother, anything was worth a shot. Perhaps there was a magical insulting quality to the word typewriter of which I was unaware.

I went outside, and the very next time Tim called me a sissy, I looked him dead in the eye and shouted, “Oh yeah? Well you’re a typewriter!”

I was proud, and angry, certain that he would immediately repent, “Oh my. Am I a typewriter? I better change my ways. I don't want to be a typewriter. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, dear, sweet brother.”

To the surprise of no one, Tim didn't repent. Instead he replied, “Did mom tell you to say that?”

I was deflated. My mom-infused weaponry was a monumental failure. But suddenly an epiphany struck. I could go back inside to tattle and my mother would likely advise me to call Tim a saucepan or a coffee table. Or, I could attack my brother and try to beat him to a pulp. That would put an end to “sissy.”

Now, I don’t know if what I decided at that moment was right. I'm sure there is a very Christ-like way that I could have handled the situation. But you know what I did? I attacked him. From that moment forward whenever Tim would pick on me—especially when he'd call me a sissy—I would summon all of my six-year-old, Incredible Hulk-like ferocity and I would charge at him like a wild animal. I'd try to hit him, kick him, bite him, anything to catch him off guard. He was generally able to brush me aside with relative ease. But every once-in-a-while I would get in a good shot.

And you know what? He stopped calling me a sissy. In fact, he started calling me Billy the Kid, after the hot-tempered manager of the New York Yankees who would storm out of the dugout in a belligerent rage at the hint of a questionable call. I could live with Billy the Kid. That was almost a badge of honor. And it was certainly better than sissy.

This disposition has never left me. Now, don't get me wrong. I like to think of myself as a peaceful person. I try to exude gentleness and love. I know that violence only begets more violence. But inside, I still have the urge to belt somebody if they call me a sissy.

I think this is what drew me so strongly to the Roberta Winter Institute. Like most Christians, my attitude toward Satan was passive resignation: avoid him, try not to sin, resist temptation. Ralph Winter on the other hand, spoke the language of revolution, in defiance of the devil's tyranny. He championed proactive resistance against systemic evil. He wanted to overthrow the powers of darkness, or die trying. Given his intelligence, he could have been a NASA engineer, or a successful computer programmer or a rich businessman. Any of these titles would have garnered him respect. But he knew that men don't follow titles, they follow courage. I loved that about him.

Satan has spent all of human history sending us a message: that he can take whatever he wants and no one can stop him. But I think it's time to send HIM a message: the call of the RWI is to go out as fast and as far as the Holy Spirit will carry us to recruit those who follow Jesus to destroy the works of the devil. Let's show the prince of this world, that he cannot take whatever he wants, and that this world and all its inhabitants are meant for the kingdom and the glory of God.

Brian Lowther is the director of the Roberta Winter Institute. Prior to that he served at the U.S. Center for World Mission in graphic design and publishing.  He lives in Southern California with his wife Debbi and their two children.

Posted on January 20, 2015 and filed under Second 30, Blog.

2015: It's the Beginning of the End for Malaria, Mortality, and Maybe Even Humanity?

By Emily Lewis

"In the fight against infectious bacteria, humans are slowly losing the battle . . . By 2050 it’s expected that, globally, drug-resistant infections will kill more people than cancer." Discover Magazine tells the fascinating story of a new class of antibiotic being developed that might just turn the tide.

But speaking of the future of humanity, if you've been counting down the years since TIME Magazine gave us this scoop (like we have at RWI), then you know we only have 30 more to go until technology makes mankind immortal. Happy new year, everyone!

We at the RWI are finding a lot of things to celebrate in 2015, including organizations like Imagine No Malaria  that are daring to dream of a world where diseases are not just treated or cured, but completely eradicated. "Unlike many other diseases that are awaiting a cure, malaria was eliminated in the U.S. in the 1950s. However, in Sub-Saharan Africa, malaria continues to kill a person every 60 seconds. But there is hope . . . our generation can beat malaria once and for all."

And in case you don't know the story of the elimination of malaria in the U.S., here is Malcolm Gladwell's account of the controversial work of Fred Soper, "The Mosquito Killer."

Today's Question: Did God create parasites, or are they the product of malevolent, diabolical tampering? What do you think?

Posted on January 17, 2015 and filed under Second 30, Blog.