A Theology of God-Talk

The Language of the Heart

J. Timothy Allen, Harold G Koenig

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9780789015150
• eBook ISBN: 9781317956426
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Religion

Use this common coping mechanism to help people respond to crises!This thoughtful book offers a fresh theological interpretation for the ways people talk about God in times of crisis. A Theology of God-Talk: The Language of the Heart probes the meaning behind phrases like "It must have been God's will" and "The Lord took Uncle Harry." Though many caring professionals dismiss such talk as insensitive or irrational, these phrases offer powerful clues to the speaker's personal religious feelings. A Theology of God-Talk demonstrates the ways that God-talk moves the sufferer through the grief and doubt of the crisis. By recognizing the ways God-talk resembles myth, apocalyptic tale, tragedy, story, and even prayer--all literary categories--the caregiver can begin to help sufferers rewrite their personal narratives in the wake of tragedy. A Theology of God-Talk examines the crucial issues of God-talk, including:

• common false assumptions about it
• the theology of God-talk
• interpretations and misinterpretations
• how to glean counseling insights from God-talk
• differing stances for sufferers and survivors of tragedy

Bringing together psychology, theology, and narrative theory, this insghtful and sensitive book offers new ways of looking at this common reaction to crisis. A Theology of God-Talk is an instant classic and an essential resource for pastors, chaplains, therapists, grief counselors, and theologians.

Chapter 1
Typical Responses to God-Talk

In the Introduction we encountered and briefly examined several examples of God-talk. We applied Donald Capps’ method of reframing to these pastoral phenomena and examined them in regard to what he called second order change. We learned that God-talk often hints at or assumes second order change. But one question remains for us here. Why do pastoral caregivers frequently misunderstand God-talk in this way? One answer is the resources that counselors and sufferers refer to generally utilize first order language. Their thoughts on suffering are important and helpful, but they generally do not ask, and sometimes even evade, the questions that would allow a move to second order change. Thus, the sources we ordinarily look to for guidance in times of tragedy unwittingly make problems out of difficulties, to use Capps’ terminology.

In this chapter we will explore in greater detail some of the typical learned responses to God-talk by people whose thoughts on suffering have garnered much respect from and informed many pastoral caregivers in their approaches to grief and tragedy. Several different sources were chosen for examination and all represent a responsible, intellectual and passionate approach to the interpretation of suffering by fellow sufferers. These theologians and writers cover the theological gamut from liberal to evangelical and represent Christian and Jewish backgrounds.

This discussion of typical responses to God-talk reveals why pastoral assessments fall short of understanding the language of the heart. We will also find that, paradoxically, those who deny the validity and theology of everyday God-talk reveal in their own words that they actually believe the implications of the very God-talk they have just refuted. Thus their criticism of God-talk reveals their own deep spiritual need for the healing comfort God-talk can bring when used and understood correctly. This chapter then should prove that Godtalk and its peculiar implications of how God deals with humanity is a necessary part of grief reactions and that it reflects a genuine need of the soul to express itself in times of suffering.

The Christian Century

The Christian Century is well known for its academic slant in the world of Christian religious reporting. Its editors and writers pen much of the groundbreaking and transformative religious ideas that effect religious trends in America. Ministers and theologians benefit from its publication and, if we look through its pages, we can learn much about how God-talk is perceived and interpreted in the academic and ministerial world.

In a stimulating pastoral offering, Robert McAfee Brown wrote a letter of consolation to his granddaughter Mackenzie who hovered on the brink of death shortly after her birth.¹ While working through his own questions of suffering, he struggles to answer the universal question of why one so young is being placed near the brink of death so soon. Along with this he wonders, if she is to die, what good has her short life brought to this earth. His questions are typical of those asked by all sufferers, yet his rational responses are typical of those offered by caregivers in that they appear cold and limit the providence of God.

In the midst of his grief he writes, “I want to believe that God does not play cat and mouse with us, at least not interminably.” Notice the struggle between what he now believes and what the evidence seems to reveal within his hurting heart. This is an erudite way of stating what many sufferers blatantly say in the midst of tragedy: “Why are You doing this to me?” While Brown says he “wants” to believe that God does not do such things to us, we can clearly discern from his question an internal struggle and possibly even a trusting desire to accept the latent belief that God really is doing this to little Mackenzie.

Brown reflects the deep question most sufferers must confront in their own time of turmoil. It is far easier to deny God’s involvement in our suffering and make up a theology that fits our beliefs. This is the method followed in Rabbi Harold S. Kushner’s When Bad Things Happen to Good People.² Theologians, ministers, and even pop psychologists probe the reasoning behind the God who does or does not do such evil things to us. But we do not have the option to make up a new theology of God. A quick reading of the Bible, especially the Psalms, reveals many descriptions of God doing things, both good and bad, to people. These stories and hymns were not written on a whim by “primitive,” nonacademic theologians. Instead, they were carefully penned with the wisdom of hindsight and much reflection about the indescribable ways of an apparently whimsical, capricious, yet loving Deity. The fact that they were selected as scripture, as informative for our spiritual growth, should lead us to understand their value and truth for our religious questions. Their theology makes us confront the very real possibility that God is very much at work in our lives, creating both weal and woe, as Isaiah prophesied centuries ago (Isaiah 45:7). We are not free to deny God’s power to direct our lives in whatever direction the Divine Will leads. Instead, we must learn to accept what comes our way, and then we must work to understand the theology that comes with such acceptance.

Brown’s personal reflections on Mackenzie’s illness reveal that, whether she lives or dies, he believes her life has already given something to this world and therefore has served a purpose in the larger design of Creation. Such observations reveal that, deep within his heart, he feels her young life has a purpose. This understanding of her life poses yet another question. Does this not imply that God then has some purpose in her life as well? If so, then aren’t believers allowed to step out in faith and imply that God was behind Mackenzie’s illness if it “widened the circle of love” and “deepened the mysteries of love” and affirmed “the realities of love” as Brown asserts in his own version of God-talk? Who but God can reveal such mysteries through the short life of a little child? If little Mackenzie’s life brought on these deep, profound realizations to Brown (and to us through his writing), then, looking back with the wisdom of hindsight and standing at some distance from the emotions of grief, her illness indeed could be said to come from God since it has served the very Divine Purpose of bringing more love to this earth.³

It is this line of reasoning that is reflected when many opine that “God must have a reason for this accident” or “there is a reason for this, and we will understand it one day.” They are trying to find some salvific purpose to an act that, on the surface, appears cruel and unjust. Their God-talk does not make light of the sufferer and the present tragedy but focuses on a future hope and salvation from suffering that will come to fruition one day.

Brown writes about the mysteries of life that appear when we suffer. “What has happened to you is bad, and yet good has come of it.”⁴ We could probably safely suggest that Fate, Chance, or even the Devil would never bring about a calamity that eventually ended in good. But certainly God can turn tragedy into goodness. Once again, we see a hint of God’s providential hand in the tragedy as betrayed by Brown’s own words. This would make God the God of Good and Evil, which is exactly what the Bible says about God.

Some point to the cross of Christ as an example of bad turned into good. What the Jews or the Romans meant for evil (to rid Judea of this troublesome itinerant teacher), God meant for good. But this interpretation of Jesus’ death misses the point too. The Gospels consistently focus on Jesus’ determined journey to Jerusalem to fulfill the will of God manifest in being handed over, persecuted, killed on the cross, and then resurrected. In Mark 8-10, for example, we read three times how Jesus predicted his impending death to deaf ears. He even struggled with this death, this “cup” as he called it, just before his time to die (Mark 14:32ff.). All of these passages clearly demonstrate that Jesus knew the cross was meant for good from the very start.

This is not to suggest that grief and tragedy are to be greeted with jubilation. The Bible certainly teaches us to cry and also rejoice in the proper season. Jesus’ own struggles with his death on the cross reveal that sadness and tremendous grief come along with a greater good. Tragedy catches us off guard and humbles us with its unexpected arrival. Indeed, we will see in a later section on God-talk and tragedy that the humbling experience may be one of the Divine Reasons for tragedy in life. But the previous statement by Brown reveals one of the more popular assumptions of the modern world: suffering is bad, tragedy is wrong, and grief is something we need not endure.

The assumption behind these assumptions, whether expressed or not, however, is that we should have life only in its good forms, never in its bad experiences. While most would never admit to thinking such thoughts, the latent assumption is quite obvious from the expressions of grief that question why bad things happen to good people. Part of the problem, as we saw in the Introduction, is that the Bible itself teaches this assumption. The Book of Job, however, confronts the issue head on. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Then what? Job concludes that meting out suffering to good (or bad) people is God’s prerogative. It is only when Job finally and humbly accepts this divine dictum that the tension in the story resolves and his grief-stricken life is restored to normal.

Philosopher Peter Kreeft notes that while pre-modern societies believed we must conform our will to reality, as Job eventually did, modern societies influenced by Enlightenment intellectualism try to make reality conform to its beliefs. Rather than accept suffering as part of reality, modern people question why we must suffer at all.⁵ Ruth Nanda Anshen, writing about evil in humankind, notes that “The idea of progress assured Western man, erroneously, of the inevitable victory of the Good as a positive force in history and in human life, while Evil was considered to be a negative principle eventually to be overcome by God’s grace, a fortunate fate, by self-discipline, a righteous life, and now even by technology itself.”⁶ Frederick Sontag likewise notes that philosophers and theologians have for too long placed their rational assumptions upon God and thus tried to make God fit their preconceived notions of justice and reason. He suggests that modern society has turned the problem of theodicy, the justice of God in the presence of evil, into anthropodicy, the making of God into our own image. In the aftermath of the Holocaust and all of the issues it raised for theology and the justice of God, not to mention our enlightened minds, Sontag says we must begin our questions about God by first of all looking at evil itself. Then we can begin to ask questions about God.⁷ From these observations we can see that the modern assumption that bad things are not supposed to happen to good people is misguided positivism, if not an arrogant and presumptuous theology.

Interestingly, this is exactly what Brown learns as he reflects on Mackenzie’s suffering. One of the results of tragedy I have witnessed time and again is revealed in Brown’s letter. Although “bad things happen to good people,” good ultimately comes out of it if we are willing to faithfully work toward that goal. Brown admits as much a few lines later in his reflection. “Instead of making us bitter, suffering can make us tender, and help us to focus on others who are going through comparable experiences . . .”⁸ This humbling effect is not new. It is found in Peter’s advice to his constituents to stop thinking about their own suffering and to consider the suffering of others, not to mention the suffering and death of Jesus Christ (1 Peter 5:9).

This suffering of others is exactly what is behind such God-talk as “Yeah, but there are a lot of others hurting worse than me right now” or “Just remember that somewhere in the world someone else has it a lot worse than you.” Such comments accurately reflect biblical teaching concerning suffering. Suffering humbles people and brings communities together as they realize that, indeed they do not have it as bad as others and that, while they are hurting, others need help too.

Surprisingly, while displaying disdain for such trite epithets about God, Brown resorts to similar God-talk when he writes, “everyday is a gift.” This proverb is a favorite expression of many trapped in the snares of grief and tragedy, and it becomes an important lesson learned by those who must stay after school in the class of suffering. The fact that it was revealed to Brown during this time of illness shows that much good has already come from the suffering of this innocent little baby. Mackenzie’s precious life was not being wasted on the world. Even in her sickness, God was using her small body and precious life to reach out and teach vital, spiritual lessons to others.

Despite the important revelations Brown confronts and the fact that he finds them during the child’s sickness, he still refuses to give in to the notion that God is somehow behind little Mackenzie’s struggle with life.

I know that there is one answer that does not tempt: the pious statement that “whatever happens is God’s will and we must accept it.” It is not God’s will that you or any one of God’s children should suffer or die in infancy. It is God’s will that you live joyously and fully.⁹

Here we see Sontag’s anthropodicy argument fully manifest in Brown’s God-talk. Questions arise from this statement. How does Brown know that God wants only joy for our lives? He does not; this is his belief, his personal God-talk myth, being projected upon God. Ironically, however, all throughout this letter to Mackenzie, Brown hints that God is involved in this tragedy.

Brown’s God-talk is often used to ward off other God-talk that he is not comfortable with. But with Brown’s assertion comes another question: If God is not involved in this situation, then who is? The Devil? Fate? Chance? Are we ready to live in a world where such an impotent God is overruled by evil or a Las Vegas-styled divinity? Why bother writing about or even worshiping such a God if this deity is so ineffective? This is a clear example of Capps’ argument that a difficulty is turned into a problem by the refusal to move toward different questions during a time of crisis. Brown’s God-talk clearly opens up more problems than it solves. For example, he writes toward the end of the letter that he, like the psalmist from whom he gets his inspiration, believes in God’s power to deliver (Psalm 130:7), yet his God-talk consistently overrules this belief.

We have already encountered Brown’s own admission that much comes out of little Mackenzie’s struggle with life and death: love, a closer comprehension of God, the embrace of mystery, and the humility of grief. These are many of the gifts that Mackenzie’s brief life brought into our world, and even Brown admits that these are good. If we consider second order change, then we need to ask a different, disturbing question: Could this have been the purpose of this tragedy? In a world that, as Brown hints, needs more love and a truer perception of God, could this not have been God’s will for her life? We really do not know, but Brown withholds the decision from God and stubbornly, humanistically holds on to the folder of possible rational answers rather than trustingly going with what his very heart has revealed: despite his not understanding the purpose behind this tragedy, little Mackenzie’s suffering has brought him and, consequently, his readers, closer to God.

All of Brown’s struggle implies that suffering, when viewed from a biblical perspective, is, or eventually can work for, good. Therefore, for the believer who dares to move to a deeper, more mysterious faith, suffering can indeed be perceived as brought about by God. This is not a concept most modern people want to agree with, yet St. Augustine said as much: “Since God is the highest good, He would not allow any evil to exist in His works unless His omnipotence and goodness were such as to bring good even out of evil.”¹⁰ The real question is whether we choose to believe in this aspect of God’s Providence and choose to accept the humbling required of such a choice,¹¹ or whether we remain convinced only of God’s goodness and ours, and, thus, continue to believe that we do not deserve suffering at all.

Throughout Brown’s letter to his struggling granddaughter (who survived her brief brush with death), we encounter the very grist of grief. The mysterious is faced head on: “there are things we will never understand” Brown relates. The risk in this precarious life as frail humans is highlighted in Brown’s phrase “the vulnerability of love.” Brown confronts the injustice of this world once more when he laments “It s...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface and Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Chapter 1. Typical Responses to God-Talk
• Chapter 2. Theology, Myth, and Imagination in God-Talk
• Chapter 3. God-Talk and the Storms of Life
• Chapter 4. God-Talk As Myth
• Chapter 5. God-Talk and Apocalyptic
• Conclusion: Genres of Faith
• Notes