For those looking for an interesting analysis of Albert Camus, and existential philosophy in general, you should check out the book (or listen to the audio version) The God Who is There by Francis Schaeffer.
For those who have read The Plague, this is one of my favorite excerpts from Schaeffer's book - in addressing the problem of evil and the nature of man presented in The Plague, Schaeffer closes with the following insights:
A Christian can fight what is wrong in the world with compassion and know that as he hates these things, God hates them too. God hates them on the high price of the death of Christ.
But if I live in a world of nonabsolutes and would fight social injustice on the mood of the moment, how can I establish what social justice is? What criterion do I have to distinguish between right and wrong so that I can know what I should be fighting? Is it not possible that I could in fact acquiesce in evil and stamp out good? The word “love” cannot tell me how to discern, for within the humanistic framework love can have no defined meaning. But once I comprehend that the Christ who came to die to end “the plague” both wept and was angry at the plague’s effects, I have a reason for fighting that does not rest merely on my momentary disposition, or the shifting consensus of men. (The God Who Is There, 117–18)
For those who have read The Plague, this is one of my favorite excerpts from Schaeffer's book - in addressing the problem of evil and the nature of man presented in The Plague, Schaeffer closes with the following insights:
A Christian can fight what is wrong in the world with compassion and know that as he hates these things, God hates them too. God hates them on the high price of the death of Christ.
But if I live in a world of nonabsolutes and would fight social injustice on the mood of the moment, how can I establish what social justice is? What criterion do I have to distinguish between right and wrong so that I can know what I should be fighting? Is it not possible that I could in fact acquiesce in evil and stamp out good? The word “love” cannot tell me how to discern, for within the humanistic framework love can have no defined meaning. But once I comprehend that the Christ who came to die to end “the plague” both wept and was angry at the plague’s effects, I have a reason for fighting that does not rest merely on my momentary disposition, or the shifting consensus of men. (The God Who Is There, 117–18)
