They both resist easy answers to the problem of suffering.
Scott Samuelson considers seven responses to the age-old mystery.
Talking about God in the face of wounds that won’t go away
I used to have Jeremiah 29:11 in a frame on my wall. I don’t anymore.
Maybe Jesus’ tears at Bethany come from more than grief.
My son’s death did not evoke in me an interest in the problem of suffering.
William Abraham's theological affirmations of faith are shadowed by a persistent question: Why don't they work?
Andrew Shtulman's book isn't just about understanding data. It's about moral concern.
God works in mysterious ways, not sadistic ones.
After Ruth Everhart was raped, she had to rebuild her beliefs about God’s will.
It's 2016 and the problem of evil is still unsolved. It's found a megaphone in Stephen Fry, who offers more rhetorical power than originality.
The answer that comes out of a tornado is not the kind of answer we want.
The “Jesus asleep in the boat during a terrible storm” story has always seemed unfair to me. I feel for the disciples when they wake him; they are understandably angry that he doesn’t seem to care that they are about to die. I’d be just as angry at Jesus for appearing so calm in the midst of real danger. The disciples are uncomfortable that Jesus is not acting according to the category of “concerned friend,” much less “messiah”—so they kind of yell at him. And when it comes down to it, who hasn’t yelled at God during the storms of life?
It takes a lifetime, as well as a remarkable life, to write a book like Eleonore Stump's Wandering in Darkness.