The presence of evil in the world creates a logical conundrum that for many unbelievers is too much to reconcile with the existence of God. Their thinking goes like this:
This logic is perfectly valid; it makes good sense. But it doesn’t capture the gospel, which contains a logic and a wisdom that exceeds the wisdom of the world (1 Cor 1:25).
The logic of the gospel is that God has justly dealt with the evil that exists in the universe—at great cost to himself. He personally experienced the presence and power of evil, becoming more all-knowing than even an unbeliever would suspect. And he didn’t overcome evil by simply eradicating it with a broad sweep of vengeance—though well he could, being all-powerful. He’s more all-good than we can imagine. He doesn’t just kill the bad guys; he changes them from the inside out.
He changes us.
And yet, for many Christians, the presence of evil in the world becomes an even harder conundrum to solve as we discover, to our horror and shame, how deeply the presence of evil runs in the inner universe of our hearts.
This ever-increasing awareness creates a kind of despairing logic that isn’t completely unrelated to the logic of unbelievers I described above. We’re not really struggling with the existence of God: we’re struggling with whether or not the gospel actually works. Here’s the logic:
We are right to expect the work of God to produce real-life outcomes: visible, tangible triumphs over evil in us. God claims to have “delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son” (Col 1:13). We know we ought to be experiencing the victory and freedom of this transfer “as those who have been brought from death to life... For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace” (Rom 6:13-14).
And yet, daily, we sin.
Where is God? Why, even when we ask, does he often let us go on sinning? Does the gospel really work? What is God doing?
Uncle Screwtape took a crack at this question. But, shrewd fellow though he was, I don’t think he had it right when he told Wormwood that:
God has a curious fantasy of making all these disgusting little human vermin into what He calls His ‘free’ lovers and servants—‘sons’ is the word He uses... Desiring their freedom, He therefore refuses to carry them, by their mere affections and habits, to any of the goals which He sets before them: He leaves them to ‘do it on their own’.1
What Screwtape is really saying is that our worst fears are confirmed. If he’s right, then God doesn’t overcome evil. He leaves us to do it ourselves. In that case, the gospel doesn’t solve anything; we must.
But the Bible is clear: God has power and wisdom to overcome evil, and he does so powerfully, decisively, on our behalf (Rom 8:2-4, 26, 32-34).
One thing Screwtape got right is the fact that our grueling present struggle against sin is indeed part of God’s plan to transform us into his free lovers, servants, and sons. But he accomplishes this plan not by leaving us to do it on our own. Instead, he becomes our daily husband, saviour, and father—our constant companion. He overcomes evil in the world by making his holy dwelling in us because he loves us. From that justified, purified place he does the work that only an all-knowing, all-powerful, all-good God can do: the inside-out work of love.
Love is ultimate proof of the existence of God. It is the opposite of evil; by love evil is overcome (Rom 12:19-21). Even the world knows this—hence, their logic. Love signals new creation, which is what we are (2 Cor 5:17); love is the pinnacle of holiness and justice (Rom 13:8-10). Love is the distinguishing quality of a follower of Christ (John 13:35), and where true gospel love is found, there God is proven real—first to us, and then to the world. As John says:
By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us. (1 John 4:13-19)
Our daily failure to love makes us nervously conscious of our sin:
If anyone says, “I love God,” and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother. (1 John 4:20-21)
But by that daily failure to love we are sent back to the reasonable, tangible, proven logic of faith. This logic causes us to forsake ourselves and turn again to the God who has what it takes—the God who overcomes evil with love. In forsaking ourselves we gain humility, the single most necessary ingredient for love, and in turning to God we are recharged with energy and strength to persevere. Our weakness gives way to his strength—his perfect, powerful, evil-annihilating love—and we become more like him. Here’s how it breaks down:
It’s an ingenious kind of spiritual calculus that thwarts the two-plus-two logic of the devil.
Yes, evil does exist—for now. But this is not evidence that the gospel doesn’t work; rather it shows that the gospel does work, that it is working right in front of our eyes. God does exist and you know it because he is overcoming evil in the world… starting in the deep places of your heart. The struggle we endure against our own sin provides us with much more than logical postulations; it gives us visible evidence of the gospel’s power in our lives.
1. CS Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, HarperCollins, New York, 2001, p.7.↩