I
read a great article on “purpose” that I’d like to share from Robert Charles Sproul.
Why?”
This simple question is loaded with assumptions about what philosophers call
“teleology.” Teleology, which comes from the Greek word for “goal” or “end” (telos), is the study of purpose. The
“why” questions are purpose questions. We seek the reasons things happen as
they do. Why does the rain fall? Why does the earth turn on its axis? Why did
you say that? When we raise the question of purpose, we are concerned with
ends, aims, and goals. All these terms suggest intent. They assume meaning
rather than meaninglessness. Despite the best attempts of nihilist philosophers
to deny that anything has ultimate meaning and significance, the perennial
question “Why?” shows that they haven’t been successful. In fact, even the
cynic’s glib retort of “Why not?” is a thinly veiled commitment to purpose. To
explain why we’re not doing something is to give a reason or purpose for not
doing it. Purpose remains in the background.
Human
beings are creatures committed to purpose. We do things for a reason—with some
kind of goal in mind. Still, there is complexity in this quest for purpose. We
distinguish between proximate and remote purposes, the proximate being what is
close at hand and the remote referring to the distant and ultimate purpose. To
use a sports analogy, the proximate goal for a National Football League offensive
line is to make a first down. Making a touchdown is the more remote goal. A
goal that is even further off for the team is to win the game. Finally, the
ultimate goal is to win the Super Bowl.
Our
church is currently going through God’s Bigger Story in the book of Genesis. The
most famous Old Testament illustration of the relation between remote and
proximate purposes is found in the story of Joseph. At the story’s end, Joseph’s
brothers express their fear that he will take revenge on them for all that they
had done to him. Joseph’s response shows us a remarkable concurrence at work
between proximate and remote purposes. He said, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis
50:20). Here, the proximate and the remote seemed to be mutually exclusive.
The divine intention was the exact opposite of the human intention. Joseph’s brothers
had one goal; God had a different one. The astounding reality here is that the
proximate purpose (selling Joseph in slavery in Egypt) served the remote
purpose (Joseph saving the known world). This did not absolve the brothers of
culpability. Their intent and actions were evil. Yet God deemed it good to let
the brothers have their way with Joseph—to a limited extent—that He might
achieve His ultimate purpose. We all experience what seem to be tragic
accidents.
People
ask: “Why do “bad” things happen to “good” people.” The question looks for a final
purpose to bad things happening in a “Fallen World”. It assumes what we know to
be true, namely, that God could have prevented the accident. If we deny this,
we deny the God who is. If He could not have prevented it, He would not be
omnipotent—He would not be God. Moreover, our question “Why?” assumes another
truth: that the question has an answer. We know God had a purpose for bad
things that happen. For questions like these, we may not get a full answer in this life. We may never know
on this side of glory all of the reasons why a tragedy occurs. Nevertheless,
there is an answer to this most important question: “Is God’s purpose in
allowing this accident to happen a good one?” If we know anything about God, we
already know the answer to the question. The Lord’s purposes and intentions are
always altogether good. There is no hint of arbitrariness or wicked intent in
the Will of God. The pleasure of His Word, Will and Way is always the good pleasure
of His Will. His pleasure is always good; His Will is always good; His
intentions are always good. Paul’s incredible promise that “for those who love God all things work together
for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans
8:28) is a statement of teleology. Here, Paul addresses the remote
rather than the proximate. Note that he doesn’t say “all things are good” but
that they “work together for good”—for a final and ultimate goal. The Apostle
insists that the proximate must always be seen in light of the remote. This is
called “the eternal perspective”. The difficulty we face is that we do not yet
possess the full light of the remote. On this side of heaven, we see through a glass
darkly. Yet, we are not utterly devoid of light. We know enough about God to know
He has a good purpose for all things even when that good purpose eludes us. God’s
good purpose shows us that the appearance of vanity and futility in this world
is just that—mere appearance.
To
trust in God’s good purpose is the essence of godly faith. Thus, no Christian
can be an ultimate pessimist. The wickedness and tragedy we daily endure can
lead to a proximate pessimism, but not an ultimate one. I am pessimistic about secular
humanist government and the innate good
will of men. I am fully optimistic about divine government and the intrinsic
good will of God. We do not live in a world of chance or chaos.
It began with a purpose, it is sustained with a purpose, and it has an ultimate purpose.
This is my Heavenly Father’s world, and His rule is purposeful, not capricious and
arbitrary. Purposelessness is a manifest impossibility.
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