Several people have said to me that in my last post I did nothing but raise questions without offering answers. I had written that we need to think about why we trust the Bible, but I didn’t say what my own reasons were for doing so. To demonstrate why I thought the question so important, I used an example of a Bible verse difficult to interpret in keeping with our experience.
In this post I’m not going to give reasons for trusting the Bible. Instead I’m going to offer my interpretation of Matthew 6, the problematic passage I picked on. Hopefully it’ll serve as a constructive example of how to hold Scripture and Experience tightly together.
This is the Bible passage:
Consider the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? … Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For the Gentiles strive after all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.
This is what I previously wrote:
The face-value implication of this saying conflicts sharply with our experience of Christians throughout history who have died of hunger, thirst or cold, despite seeking God’s kingdom. Perhaps we ourselves can also remember a time when we felt we desperately needed something and our need was not met.
In seeking a constructive interpretation of this Bible passage, I want to begin by pointing out that it was remembered, recorded, treasured and canonised by the Church in the midst of persecution. Early Christians were ostracised, punished, and occasionally tortured or killed for their faith. Not only that, but Jesus who said those words was later crucified, an event recorded in the same book that contains this saying. So whatever it means, it can’t possibly preclude suffering even to the point of death.
Let’s look a little closer at the analogy Jesus uses. What do we notice by considering the birds? One observation: birds die of cold and starvation as often as humans. There’s not much difference (in the end) between the safety of a bird and of a human – except that we go to a lot more trouble to try and keep ourselves safe. In neither case is safety guaranteed, so Jesus cannot be guaranteeing our safety by comparing us to birds.
So what’s the big deal? Is Jesus just saying that it’s pointless to worry because worrying won’t change anything? I don’t think so. I think Jesus knew that while our own interests are our priority, we will be powerless to stop worrying about the future no matter how irrational it may be. Instead, I think Jesus is saying that if we “seek first the Kingdom” then we become part of a bigger story in which we’re not the centre. If we submit to God’s rule, it means our security is no longer our highest concern. We become his agents whom he can use however he wants. To become obedient to God’s commands is to give up our deeply rooted instinct for self-preservation and self-promotion, and to go obediently on whatever dangerous/seemingly hopeless quest he may send us on. He will ensure that we have all we need – in order to fulfil his purposes for us.
But why should we submit to God’s rule instead of looking out for ourselves? Why should we trust that we’ll be better off by doing so? I think Jesus addresses this by referring to God as our “heavenly Father.” Jesus saw God as a king who treats his subjects with the same loving compassion that a father has for his children. If we make God’s concerns ours, then God will make our concerns his. How can that be comforting if we look at the way God treated his own son? We have to read to the end of the story to know that.
Whether or not we trust this passage by seeking God’s kingdom first may not change our circumstances. But it can so dramatically change our way of understanding them that our experience of them does change. To trust Jesus is to enter a world in which absolutely everything that happens to us can be seen as coming from an all-wise and loving father who has our best interests – and the whole world’s – at heart. You may think that this is not much comfort if what happens to us is the same. I reply that it is the only real comfort that is not self-deception. What could be more different than a dentist’s chair and a torturer’s, even if the pain inflicted was identical? Or how many of us would willingly endure ten times more suffering if we knew it was (somehow) saving other people’s lives – in other words, if we were sure that it had some kind of meaning attached to it?
To hold on to belief in a loving Father God who is in control is not easy at the best of times, but is particularly hard when circumstances are not the way we want them to be or when we look at the trouble our world is in. To our modern minds it can feel logically impossible. But it is coherent and can be interpreted to fit our experience. Without offering any proofs, the words of Jesus invite us into a new way of being that transforms our experience and brings hope amidst even the greatest despair. If we can learn to believe these words wholeheartedly, then our lives will become as free of worry as the birds.
Latest posts by Barney (see all)
- Where to find me now - 1st July 2025
- Ricœur at the Limits of Philosophy: Why I wrote it - 12th October 2022
- Violence in the Bible: The Case of the Canaanite Genocides - 6th July 2021
can you explain this sentence further: “To trust Jesus is to enter a world in which absolutely everything that happens to us can be seen as coming from an all-wise and loving father who has our best interests – and the whole world’s – at heart.” are you saying that the evil we experience in this world is somehow “coming from God”? i’ve always seen evil things (such as abuse or disease) as coming, in essence, from satan, but that God is still ultimately in control and will one day redeem or bring good from it. i have never assumed it has actually “come from a loving father”.
Thank you, Laura. That is a deep and important question as it touches on the problem of evil and I can’t hope to do justice to it entirely here. I just want to make certain observations.
First, we often think that responsibility is a univocal thing – which means that only one person can be responsible for any action. But in reality there is a chain of multiple responsibility behind any action. If a judge sends someone to prison, is the judge responsible for that person being locked up, or the guard who physically locks them up? Or is it the person who made the law they broke? Or the community who raised the person who made the law, shaping their sense of right and wrong? . . . . etc. etc. If I am an army general and I order someone put to death, am I the one who killed them or the person who actually pulls the trigger? But the question of responsibility is even more complex when we consider God, who is the first cause of all things. In the book of Job, evil things happen which are attributed to Satan AND God – God having given Satan permission to do them. The implication is that God is ultimately behind anything that happens We also see this in the seemingly contradictory Bible verses of 2 Samuel 24:1 and 1 Chronicles 21:1. The same action is attributed to God in one version of the story, and to Satan in another.
Secondly, to talk about what God wills and doesn’t will when it comes to evil is also an extremely complex matter. If a mother is teaching her infant to walk and the child falls because she let go of him, the mother didn’t “will” the child to fall, but she did will the circumstance which made it possible. Her ultimate goal is that he learns to walk, and it is unlikely that this will happen without him ever falling. Perhaps God’s will for the whole of creation history is comparable to this.
So when something unequivocally evil happens to me, I have a twofold reaction to it. I see it as a result of the broken world we live in, for sure. But I also see God as able to have prevented it and therefore “in control” in a direct and immediate way. I believe not just that God will ultimately redeem or bring good from it, but that he is already doing so. I trust him that he allowed it for some purpose beyond my understanding, but that when I understand, I will be grateful.
I know this only raises more questions! But they are good questions to ponder, I think. What do you make of the above?
thank you for your thoughtful reply barney. i am still struggling – but you knew this would happen;) do you think a woman who was gang-raped by a group of corrupt policeman will really look back with understanding one day and be grateful? or a father who accidentally runs over and kills his 3-year old child in their own driveway? i can understand these people one day saying “thank you God for the good you brought forth out of, and despite these horrific tragedies”. but to be able to say “thank you for the tragedies themselves” parallels feeling thankful for evil, or sin, or satan himself in my puny uneducated mind.
Laura, your mind is neither puny nor uneducated! I don’t think I have experienced enough tragedy in my life to confidently answer your question, as it is deeply reliant on personal experience and not merely abstract (I almost said “not merely theological” but I think theology can include phenomenology).
You’re probably right, and we should not be thankful for evil itself. But I believe that evil is always a corruption of something good, and is only possible because of the existence of the good which it corrupts. In a sense, the more types of good God creates, the more possibilities for evil he also creates. So without being thankful for evil, I imagine that one day we can all look back and be thankful for a world in which such evil was possible, because of the good that was also possible as a result. In regard to specific evil events, I believe that one day we will look back and at least understand why God didn’t prevent them when he could have. Beyond that I can’t say.
I spent a few hours yesterday mapping out a preach on Haggai with pretty much the same ethic as what you’re driving at in this post. In Haggai, God is clear enough to say that he actively withheld resources from his people (ch 1 v7-11) and even “struck” (ch 2v17) the work of their hands… How on earth does this fit with the idea of a loving God?
Depends on your idea of what “love” is I guess. If love is confined to “doing everything physically possible to ensure the safety and comfort of the object of love” then I wonder if we reduce our image of God to being little more than playing the role of benevolent uncle. And then we accuse Him of being unloving when our circumstances seem to incorporate lack, ill health or tragedy.
But could love be something far bigger, the invitation to – as you say – be part of a much bigger story than simply prioritising one’s own security and needs…?
Could love be an invitation into – and provision for- an adventure of growth, contribution of meaningful sacrifice? Is that what having “our best interests – and the whole worlds – at heart” looks like?
And just so Im not accused of offering questions without answers, let me clearly say that I think it is. 🙂