It’s Complicated
Facebook used to have a designation for one’s relationship status—I don’t even know if it’s still used—but in a person’s profile, there was a designation for “relationship status.” The common picks were “single,” “married,” and “in a relationship,” but my favorite one was the very strange, “It’s complicated.” There’s something very honest yet very truthful about that one.
How if we were to have Facebook add a new category (as if they’d listen!) “spirituality” with the same choices? “Single”—for the agnostic/seeker, “married” for the devoutly committed, “in a relationship” for the non-denominational, and “it’s complicated” for…whoever, whatever.
I’m coming to believe that “it’s complicated” is not only the best answer for absolutely everything, but I’m thoroughly convinced that it’s true for our relationship with God. Certain aspects of the faith are simple, but the deeper you go and the longer you search, the more complex, the more wondrous, and surprisingly unsearchable the greatness of God becomes. It is complicated.
God in Paradox
As we continue Learning to Fly, I’d like to recap where we’ve been. Two weeks ago we told the Parable of the Geese from Soren Kierkegaard. The geese lived in a barnyard with high walls and plenty of good corn, so they became quite comfortable. When other geese flew overhead in the autumn, the geese in the barnyard no longer thought of following them. We, as Christians, are called to world beyond the one presented to us. That calling can be dulled by devoting ourselves to this world rather than the kingdom of God. We are meant for flight.
Last week, after a failed story about a pair of ducks, we talked about paradoxes, and how much of Scripture speaks through paradoxes rather than simple, polarized types of statements. We said that paradoxes, coming from Christ himself, are better at containing truth than are many of our axiomatic type of statements. We find our wings as we live in the unresolved tensions created by paradoxes, but that unresolved tension is what gets our wings stretched out and what enables us to fly.
Today we’re going to consider how God’s own character and nature are revealed in Scripture as paradoxes, and we’ll note why these unresolved tensions are superior to other, popular, over-simplified statements about God.
So let’s kick it off with the biggest paradox: God is three; God is one—the Trinity.
The Trinity
God is one in essence, one in being, yet three in persons. This basic doctrine of the Christian faith has bothered thinkers since the first century. The paradox that God is three and God is one has been a challenge from the start. But the Scripture is full of references to the Trinity. The heart of the Church’s mission is worded in Matthew 28: 18-20:
And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
Notice, it does not say “in the names,” but “in the name”—singular—of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In Scripture, God is revealed as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—one God. It’s complicated—this paradox contains truth that stretches us beyond our comfort zones. And from the beginning, many have tried to reduce it to a simpler, more manageable and digestible form—all of these are heresies.
Some just tried to do away with the Trinity altogether—Islam did so, as did Unitarianism, and even some Pentecostals, troubled by the paradox, have claimed that it is not biblical.
C.S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, says:
“We cannot compete, in simplicity, with people who are inventing religions. How could we? We are dealing with Fact. Of course anyone can be simple if he has not facts to bother about.”
But consider: why should it be simple? What in the universe really is simple? Why, of all things, would the nature and character of God Almighty be something we consider neat, tidy, and simple? And herein is one of the most important themes of this series: that the human preference for simplicity will take any truth and try to dumb it down into an uncomplicated form. People dislike unresolved tensions, and prefer one wing and life in the barnyard to the greater life of flight.
Aside from the Trinity, we can find paradoxes speaking to each person of the Trinity as well.
Father Paradoxes
First, as we consider the Father, there is a basic paradox confronted by every child let alone every adult. It’s a simple one: God is omnipresent yet God is invisible. God the Father is everywhere—omniscient and ever-present—yet completely invisible to us. We pray, “Our Father, Who art in Heaven…” which says He’s up there, as though not here at the same time. We talk about God being distant, but that is impossible, because there is no place where God cannot be.
In Christian worship, I take issue with the kind of language that talks about “God showing up”—usually from a group that means to work itself into a fair emotional lather of sincerity—but let’s be clear: God is there already. God was there when room was empty and the lights were off. We con’t call God into our presence as though He’s somewhere far off and needs to be brought down to our presence. No, God is everywhere and eternal. When we worship, we awaken ourselves to His ever-presence.
Second, God is almighty, all-powerful, and all good; yet He allows evil to exist. This is a paradox because in the simple math of our own minds, if God is good, He would simply wipe out all evil immediately, in a snap. Boom! No more evil, no more devil, no more Hell—just God and God’s goodness everywhere forever. Why does a good, loving, all-powerful God even tolerate the presence of evil in His world? I don’t know, but we all live with this as an unresolved tension. One day, we will know and it will make perfect sense to us.
Next, God hates sin. Sin repels God’s presence, which is what the Hebrew word tamei (usually translated unclean) means. God cannot tolerate sin and cannot co-exist with sin. We could say God hates sin. But God loves sinners and continuously through Scripture reveals that He wants sinners rescued. If He despises sin, how can He help but despise those who cause sin? God hates sin, but loves sinners. That is a paradox and tough to wrap our minds around, but again, we live with it as an unresolved tension.
God the Father is the judge of all sin. He calls it out, calls it wicked, demands righteousness and justice from people who have the power to do these things but don’t do them. This same judge is also the merciful one who forgives sin. He is the Prodigal Father who runs to bless the wayward, sinful child who looks toward home. This is a paradox, but it is also wonderful, most excellent, good news.
Son Paradoxes
Next: the paradoxes about Jesus, God the Son. First, the great mystery of the dual nature of Christ: Jesus is fully God and fully human. Jesus was neither just God nor just a man. He has a divine nature and yet he is fully human, even as we are.
Describing this paradox led to centuries of theological argument. Two natures or a single, hybrid nature? How many wills? One, two, or another hybrid? Early theologians went back and forth for decades and decades attempting to articulate Jesus’ dual nature, and every time someone thought they’d figured it out, they’d write it up in an elegant theological treatise and share it with all the bishops of the world. Then came the critiques: “No, no, no, because Scripture says…” and heresies were named.
After nearly two thousand years of theological quibbling, science gave us the perfect analogy in quantum physics. Light: is it a wave or a particle? It turns out is a wave and it is a particle. Not half and half, not some other explanation—but light exists as waves—completely—and as particles—completely, just like the dual nature of Christ, completely God and completely human. Yes, it’s complicated.
Second, Jesus died, yet he lives. On the surface this sounds like a flat-out contradiction. Did Jesus die? Yes, he did. Did he really die? Yes. So, he’s what we should call dead? No, he is alive—he lives. Right here, at the heart of Christian faith is the most complicated paradox. Jesus is raised; He is risen indeed!
Revelation 1:18
I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and of Hades.
Jesus lived two thousand years ago, but he is every bit as much alive today. There is no body to be found in this world—the atoms that made up his flesh and bones are no longer here. He has ascended. His resurrected body, which left the tomb empty, has put on immortality and resides in the eternal place of God. There is nothing simple about Christianity. At the very center stand the most complicated realities.
Thirdly, Jesus, who is God in the flesh, Lord, ruler, master of the universe, came to us in utter humility, subjection, and servanthood. Begotten by God into the smallness and impoverishment of first century Palestine, born in a manger, living a peasant lifestyle, the King of Glory revealed Himself veiled in humility.
Philippians 2: 6-8
though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited, but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form, he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross.
There is no discussing Jesus, the Son of God, without immediately having to face these paradoxes—these enormous complexities. Let no one say that Christianity is really quite simple.
Spirit Paradoxes
And now to the Holy Spirit. First, the Spirit is paradoxical because his roles seem contradictory. The Spirit is sent from the Father and the Son to convince—or convict—the world of its sin, yet the Spirit is our comforter as well.
John 16:8 And when he comes, he will convict the world of sin and righteousness and judgment.
That is like a district court judge telling you that you are completely guilty, yet she wants to give you a big hug to make you feel better. The same Spirit who reassures us that we belong to Christ is the one who tells us that we don’t deserve it. Can you make sense of that? It’s not easy; it’s light-years from simple.
The greater paradox is in the nature and function of the Holy Spirit; namely, how little we can know about the Spirit.
John 3:8
The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.
The Holy Spirit is not self-revealing, but the Holy Spirit reveals Jesus as He is. The Holy Spirit never points to himself, but points with eternal persistence at Christ. The evidence that the Holy Spirit is working is that someone—anyone—looks at Jesus and sees the Son of God.
No mere human being can look at Jesus and see Him as Lord unless the Holy Spirit acts. No one can read Scripture and be convinced that it is true, or good, or of God unless the Holy Spirit reveals that truth. There is nothing we come know—no spiritual insight or light of faith—that takes place by ourselves. All require the work of the Holy Spirit, who remains unrevealed, and when sought, only reveals Christ.
Yes, It’s Complicated
If your mind is spinning a bit, then congratulations, you are thinking theologically, which is better than thinking in lesser ways: merely materially, economically, sociologically, psychologically, and so on.
Finally, I want to remind us that we’re supposed to fly—we live by these unresolved tensions and by them our wings support us on the air.
The alternatives to complexity are all unbalanced and flawed. Reality is not simple; it is complex. There is no path to radicalism or extremism that doesn’t necessarily involve oversimplifying reality, oversimplifying the world, or politics, economics, or even other people. The path to extremism always begins by dumbing down reality and denying the largeness of truth. There is no way to become a fundamentalist or extremist except by first denying the basic complexity of things.
Extremists live in the realm of selective vision and willful, selective blindness. They have simply chosen not to see certain things—things that don’t agree with their over-simplified worldview. Fanaticism is not only the loss of perspective of the whole, it is a fierce commitment to a single view, a single wing, and though they think they’re being progressive leaders or firm loyalists, they’re unbalanced, unreliable, and they will never get off the ground with their single wing.
Sanity—let alone wisdom—begins with the fear of God, which is a way of saying, “God is great, God is good, and God is more complicated than we will ever be able to work out in our comparatively tiny minds.” That’s the fear of God. That’s the beginning of wisdom. We look around and call it like it truly is: It’s Complicated.
May God continuously draw us all into the depths of knowing Him, preserving us from our love of oversimplification, and may we take on humility as a noble pursuit in imitation of Christ. And may we all be blessed to discover the richness, the joy, and the unsearchable, wondrous, complexities of our God. †