Ivan gave his brother a penetrating look. “The question is this: Is freedom a gift or a curse?”

“Are you serious? Of course it’s a gift.” The provocative question unnerved Alvin. Why would anyone question the value of freedom?

“Be careful what you wish for,” Ivan cautioned. “For if you embrace the gift of freedom, you can no longer blame God for evil. You can’t have it both ways.”

Alvin was incredulous. “Wait a minute. How does freedom let God off the hook?”

This was a sensitive issue for both of them. They had lost their sixteen‑year‑old sister to a drunk driver ten years ago. Traveling home from a football game, someone crossed the center lane and killed her. Alvin had been angry at God ever since.

“Either God was not powerful enough to stop her death, or he was not loving enough to prevent it,” Alvin contended. “Either way, count me out.” And so he had.

“So what’s the connection between freedom and evil?” Alvin asked.

“Let’s suppose, for example, that you continue on this path of cynicism,” Ivan answered. “You don’t betray God altogether, but you keep him on the periphery of your life. You agree that you have the freedom to do that, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Alvin responded. “Freedom is what makes us fundamentally human. Without it, we are little more than intelligent apes.”

“Right. So let’s assume that  one of your children develops a drinking problem. He gets in a car when he shouldn’t and before you know it, he has repeated the accident that took our sister’s life.

“Here is the big question. Whose fault is it?”

Alvin paused. He could see where this was leading. If the accident was his son’s fault, then how could he blame God? If it was God’s fault, then was his son truly free?

Seeing his path, he said, “Each must be accountable for his own level of responsibility. My son is responsible for the misuse of his freedom. I am responsible for short comings in my child rearing. But God is also responsible for not preventing the accident from occurring. If he is God, he could have prevented it. Since he didn’t, he must be either impotent or impertinent. My argument stands.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ivan conceded. “But let’s take it a step further. Suppose your son is an infant. Imagine that you are granted the opportunity to give him a special potion that would guarantee that he would always make the right decision. No terrible 2s, no temper tantrums, no disobedience, no drinking problem. We might call it the ‘perfect child’ pill. Do you give your kid the pill?”

Alvin paused. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because perfection is not worth it at the expense of freedom,” Alvin continued. “In order to choose right, there has to be the potential to choose wrong. After all, angels are perfect, but they have no choice. I want my child to do right because he wants to, not because he has no choice.”

Ivan clarified, “I take it, then, that even if you had the power to do otherwise, you think the truly loving thing would be to give your son freedom, even knowing it could lead to disaster for him or others. Why don’t you grant God the same prerogative with humanity that you would exercise toward your son?”

Now it was Alvin’s turn to be sarcastic. “I think I’ll give my kid the pill.”