When the realities of good and evil exceed our limited perceptions, overwhelm our limited comprehension, and threaten to override our psychological and emotional circuitry, there is a reason for this. We may be fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14), but we are also fearfully finite. There are things too wonderful for us to know. The peace that surpasses our understanding (Philippians 4:7), which we need so much, is available to us if we are willing to trust in the Lord with all our heart and not lean on our own understanding (Proverbs 3:5).

I’ve recently had some conversations with younger Christian friends who have been reeling from experiences and observations of confounding evil. And as a man more than double the age of the friends I have in mind, I can vouch that comprehending what appears to be senseless evil doesn’t get easier the longer you live.
Perhaps that sounds discouraging, especially since I remember as a younger Christian hoping that I’d have greater wisdom in my golden years. After all, isn’t sagacity part of “the splendor of . . . gray hair” (Proverbs 20:29)?
I hope this is true of me to some extent. But as I grow older, I’m discovering that the greater part of wisdom isn’t accumulating a greater knowledge of good and evil so much as learning how to deal more faithfully with my deficit of such knowledge. So, if I have any wisdom worth imparting to Christians struggling with incomprehensible evil, it lies in cultivating the spiritual discipline of handing back the fruit.
Problem of Evil
Theologians and philosophers call it “the problem of evil” — how horrific evil and suffering can exist in a world created and providentially governed by an almighty, all-good, all-knowing God. But calling evil a “problem” hardly begins to describe our existential experiences of it in this fallen world.
An apparently buoyant friend unexpectedly takes his life. Every member of a missionary family on home assignment is killed in a car accident. A beloved young child dies of cancer. A trusted pastor’s adultery is suddenly exposed. A spouse who vowed lifelong faithfulness demands a divorce. Sexual abuse leaves a young girl soiled with shame and psychological damage for decades. Palestinian terrorists rape and murder more than 1,500 unsuspecting noncombatant Israeli citizens. The Israeli military then wipes out more than 15,000 noncombatant Palestinians. An oceanic earthquake near Sumatra, Indonesia, produces tsunamis that sweep away over two hundred thousand souls. Such traumatic suffering, tragedies, and sins almost never make sense to us. And the closer we are to the destruction, the more chaotic and senseless it often appears.
In such experiences and observations, we glimpse the real nature of evil. And it’s almost always worse than we could have imagined. The evil events themselves, and God’s good providence in choosing not to prevent them (especially when we know he has chosen to prevent others), exceed the bounds of our rational capacities, leaving us with anguished, perplexing questions only God can answer. And most of the time, he doesn’t — not specifically. God rarely reveals his specific purposes for allowing specific tragedies and their resulting wreckage.
We find that we simply aren’t able to bear the weight of the knowledge of good and evil. It exceeds our strength to comprehend on both sides: we cannot comprehend the full breadth and length and height and depth of the goodness of what is good (though we rarely perceive this a “problem”) or of the evilness of what is evil. And mercifully, God does not ask us to bear it. He asks us to trust him with it. He asks us to hand him back the fruit.
Whence This Unbearable Weight?
Some mysteries are great mercies for finite creatures not to know. Great, great mercies.
The fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil contained a secret — one that God said should remain a mystery. God warned the man and woman that it would be better for them not to eat it. It would be the death of them if they did.
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Hopeful, dedicated, and spiritually zealous Rev. John R. Peale completed seminary, was licensed and ordained, married Rebecca, and with his bride they embarked on a lengthy journey to China only to be murdered in the streets of Lienchou by some of the residents they had hoped to serve.

John Rogers Peale was born to Samuel Alexander and Elizabeth (McIntire) Peale September 17, 1879 northwest of Harrisburg in New Bloomfield, Pennsylvania. He prepared for college in a local academy and professed faith in Christ in the Presbyterian Church at the age of twelve. For college he attended Lafayette in Easton. John was involved in several extra-curricular activities including president of the campus YMCA chapter, membership in the Dramatic Association, a brother of Delta Upsilon fraternity, and editor of the college yearbook. He won the Coleman Biblical Prize his freshman year and graduated Lafayette with honors in 1902.
That fall John moved to New Jersey to study for the ministry at Princeton Theological Seminary. The president of Lafayette College at the time of Peale’s studies was Ethelbert D. Warfield who may have influenced him to go to Princeton given that he was on the board and his brother B. B. Warfield was a professor. Included among his extracurricular activities at the seminary were leading the student band and participating in just about anything related to missions. Demonstrating for all visitors to his dorm room his interest in foreign missions was a large map including annotations for the various fields. Seminary friends commented that when they dropped in to visit John they often found him with an open Bible and in prayer. He was quiet, reserved, and greatly admired by other students and the faculty. John looked out for opportunities to promote world missions by scheduling mission-minded students to fill pulpits in area churches. Before graduating Princeton Seminary in May 1905, he earned a Master of Arts from Princeton University.
Before he could leave for the mission field there were a few things to do. As a Presbyterian ministerial candidate it was necessary for him to be licensed and ordained by his presbytery. On April 11, 1905, just before he graduated seminary, the Presbytery of Carlisle of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America (PCUSA) licensed him, then just a month later on May 15 he was ordained an evangelist to serve on the foreign field. With his education and ecclesiastical requirements completed before moving overseas, the next step for Peale was marrying Rebecca Gillespie June 29, 1905 in Maryland. Before leaving the port in San Francisco for Lienchou, Kwangtung Province, Rev. Peale expressed hope that he and Rebecca would be allowed to serve the Lord with the Chinese people for forty years.
At the time the Chinese were transitioning from the ways of the past into the modern world. China had lost the Sino-Japanese war (1894-1895) due to the superiority of Japanese weaponry manufactured with technological guidance from world powers such as Great Britain and the United States. In China, modernization lagged behind the Japanese because of greater resistance to modifying the ancient ways. The Presbyterians and other Western missionaries brought with them not only the gospel and the Bible but different clothing, foods, ways of and media for writing, recreation, and ways of thinking about life. Growing resentment towards foreigners among some Chinese had led to the Boxer Rebellion at the end of the nineteenth century. It is believed that most of the 200 to 250 foreign individuals killed by the Boxers were missionaries, however the greatest death toll was suffered by Chinese Christians with thousands murdered. Not long after the Boxer Rebellion ended, there was an uprising in Paotingfu resulting in the murders of sixteen missionaries and family members including eight from the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions, PCUSA. It was the worst massacre of PCUSA missionaries since killings in India in 1857. The Presbyterians that died included Rev. and Mrs. Frank E. Simcox and their three children, Dr. George Yardley Taylor, and Elsie and Cortlandt Van Rensselaer Hodge, MD, who was the grandson of Charles Hodge’s brother, Hugh Lenox Hodge.
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Simply because Christ is impeccable—unable to sin—does not mean that his sinless perfection is any less glorious or any less incredible! Christ succeeded at every point where we have failed. He was tempted in every way we are, yet without sin (Hebrews 4:15).

Last week at the Seminary, we had the privilege of a guest preacher in chapel. During his sermon he shared a powerful illustration about his love for his bride—that speaking accurately about her is not the same as love for her, but since he loves her, he will always seek to speak accurately about her. He applied this, of course, to our love and commitment to the Lord Jesus. Having accurate theology about Christ is not the same as love for Christ, but if we love him we will always seek to speak rightly about him.
It was a beautiful illustration, an accurate illustration, and a helpful illustration. Assuredly we are not saved by correct theology—but we who are saved should relentlessly pursue correctly thinking about and speaking about the One we love.
There is one area, however, about our precious Lord Jesus that seems to be falling out of vogue when it comes to speaking rightly about him. That area of theology is what theologians refer to as the “impeccability of Christ”. Now before you click away and go read a more “entertaining” blog post, please allow me to explain, because as the illustration above points out, this is worth it! We must want to know our Lord in a way that accords with his truth. The impeccability of Jesus means that Christ was unable to sin. Now, all who affirm the Bible would agree that Christ did not sin, but far fewer these days are willing to take the next step beyond his sinlessness and speak of the fact that Christ could not sin; or in other words, his impeccability.
The impeccability of Christ means that Jesus could not sin.
The fact that Christ could not sin, flows from the simple truth that Christ cannot change. In Hebrews 13:8, the author says “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.” This short but incredibly profound sentence means that it would be impossible for our Savior to change. Elsewhere in Hebrews, the same author says of our Lord, that the heavens and earth change, but Jesus never does: “Like a garment they will also be changed. But You are the same” (Hebrews 1:12). Christ does not change, and cannot change. If it were possible for Jesus to change, then the book of Hebrews would also have to change, for it would no longer be true!
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