I was asked recently, "If God is omniscient, what does he think about?" I didn't have the presence of mind to ask, "What do you mean?" I'm not exactly sure what the inquirer had in mind, but let's speculate. If he meant, "He already knows everything; what more is there to learn or know if he already knows it all?" then he's just shown that he believes that the purpose of thought is strictly the pursuit of knowledge and nothing more. This seems to me a deficient view of the purpose of thought.
As a means to knowledge, Yes, thought is invaluable, indispensable, suitable, and constructive. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that knowledge is got by rational, and not irrational, methods. Whether, as Christians, we say that this rational pursuit of knowing things must necessarily remain subservient to the Scriptures, or, as Atheists, we say that this rational pursuit of knowing things is, itself, our criteria for discovering what "is" in the world, the point remains: irrational pursuit of what "is", of Truth, of Reality, is an oxymoron. So, in the end, discovery, learning, knowing, etc. require us to think.
But that's not the question. The question is, "Once you've learned all there is to learn, to what purpose now does one put one's thinking?" It brings to mind an image of an antique collector who's set out to acquire one of every original antique that's ever existed (I know, it's ridiculous; just stay with me), and now that they've succeeded, there they are, sitting, eternally looking at all their finds. Now what? This, I think, is not the situation in which we find our omniscient God. What, then, is he doing? It seems to me that he's rejoicing, delighting, loving, thrilling, exulting, basking, and any other suitable "-ing" that involves the divine affections. God knows everything, and he's not indifferent to what he knows; his affections are employed and engaged with respect to what he knows, both with respect to himself and with respect to creation.
When Jesus prays for his Father to restore him to the glory that he shared with his Father before the world began and the incarnation, I don't think he had in mind going back to heaven in order to share glory like you share peanut butter; I think he had in mind sharing glory like one shares joy: you participate in it as well as enjoy it. And this, I think, reveals an essential quality of the Triune God: he not only knows all things, but he's not indifferent to what he knows; his knowledge is not merely a rational acquisition of facts, data, info, etc. He knows things not merely intellectually, but affectively, emotionally, heartily, passionately. It's one thing to "know" algebra; it's another to "know" that as you're driving across the bridge constructed on the right calculation of algebra that you're not falling into a rubble heap below, and to like that fact. God, in his omniscience, knows things most fully, most penetratingly, most soundly, most usefully, which is to say that he knows nothing merely in its "abstractness" (i.e. like algebraic symbols on the page), but that everything he knows, he knows in relation to himself and to all things, and in these things he knows he rejoices (or rages, or laughs, as the case may be, Psalm 2).
Thought, whether human or divine, is necessary in the pursuit (or, as in the case of God, the act) of knowing things, but once we know this or that, the point is not "there, I've learned it, now I can put it down, forget it, never use it, etc." The point is, "What kind of response does this knowledge call for from me?" And if the point of the Bible is that we are meant to do everything in such a way as to display the glory and greatness of God, this would include the affective manner in which we regard what we know, whether of God or of anything else. Yes, in the eternal state, we will ever and always be encountering fresh discoveries of the glory of our Savior that were unknown to us before, but he will always be full of the knowledge of God and of all things: what will he be doing while we're learning? I think, among other things, he'll be smiling, and (similar to the way we delight in watching children make fresh discoveries) saying, "Nice" -and he'll mean it.
13 February 2012
Burning the Hand That Feeds You
Recently, my wife and I were having a conversation with some friends about marriage, particularly the passage in the book of Ephesians referring to the respective roles of husbands and wives (5:22-33). We were commenting on the metaphor that the apostle Paul employs: the human body. He says that wives are to submit to their own husbands, "as to the Lord", because the husband is her head just as Christ is the head of the church. He also says that husbands are to give themselves up for their wives "as Christ does" for the church and that this giving up of himself is how he loves her.
Now, let me ask you a question: When was the last time you shoved your hand into a fire for fun? Or, when did you last sit at the kitchen table wishing your hand would finally "get its act together" and pick up the fork to start feeding you? These are the kind of absurdities that came to mind during this conversation. When Paul says that wives are like bodies and husbands are like heads, he's pointing out, among other things, the absurd nature of sin: whoever heard of a foot that rebelled against what the head wanted? Or, of a leg "unwilling" to follow the direction of the brain? Husbands who love their wives as they were meant to don't ask their wives to do things that are destructive, harmful, and belittling to either themselves or their husbands. In fact, they are willing to hazard such dangers themselves before exposing their wives to such destructive potential. It's the difference between a man reaching into a fire to save, and a man reaching into a fire because he likes to watch flesh burn. Only an idiot and a fool does the latter, while only a loving hero risks losing his hand for the sake of another. And it is not hard to follow such a man gladly.
BHT
Now, let me ask you a question: When was the last time you shoved your hand into a fire for fun? Or, when did you last sit at the kitchen table wishing your hand would finally "get its act together" and pick up the fork to start feeding you? These are the kind of absurdities that came to mind during this conversation. When Paul says that wives are like bodies and husbands are like heads, he's pointing out, among other things, the absurd nature of sin: whoever heard of a foot that rebelled against what the head wanted? Or, of a leg "unwilling" to follow the direction of the brain? Husbands who love their wives as they were meant to don't ask their wives to do things that are destructive, harmful, and belittling to either themselves or their husbands. In fact, they are willing to hazard such dangers themselves before exposing their wives to such destructive potential. It's the difference between a man reaching into a fire to save, and a man reaching into a fire because he likes to watch flesh burn. Only an idiot and a fool does the latter, while only a loving hero risks losing his hand for the sake of another. And it is not hard to follow such a man gladly.
BHT
03 October 2011
Driscoll and Wilson on Spiritual Gifts and Intepreting Strange Happenings
Driscoll and Wilson on Spiritual Gifts and Intepreting Strange Happenings
Two classy men having an ejoyable and honest discussion. As always, this is the kind of stuff I love to hear, and even be around whenever possible.
BHT
Two classy men having an ejoyable and honest discussion. As always, this is the kind of stuff I love to hear, and even be around whenever possible.
BHT
20 September 2011
Spinning Into Control
I was minding my own business today when a thought invaded, arrested, and held hostage my mind. It was let loose by a memory I have had for years of something a pastor said regarding those "old time Arminians". If memory serves, he went on to say (as if commending even such Arminians as John Wesley) that "they cared about God" in contrast to so many Evangelicals (of an Arminian stripe) who apparently seem not to. And then my thought came: what if, somehow, I were to find the sermon or message in which that comment was made and (if I had such a platform and audience online) I were then to post it, with comment, and decry such "sectarian", "divisive", "dogmatic", and even "unloving" words? I'm sure I could start quite a firestorm, especially if the comments were made by a high-profile figure and were a long time ago (so as to sound even more unguarded)!
But this seems increasingly to me to come precariously close to assuming a role that is not rightfully ours. In Matt. 12:36, 37 we read that Jesus said, "I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned." Now, it's not clear exactly who will be doing this judging, but I think it's safe to say that Jesus does not intend to leave open the option of letting one of us fill that apparent vacancy. More importantly, though, is the trend I see in political punditry and celebrity blogging (whether of evangelicals, pop-singers, actors, or politicians of a sort) when it comes to what Sarah Palin has so eloquently labelled as "gotcha" questions or moments. It seems that one's opponents spare no expense these days not only in digging up dirt from one's past but in finding it in this mornings news interview before the words even hit the ears of most Americans (who don't make a living off watching internet websites). This seems to be one of the many ways in which we've usurped God's rightful role as judge of our words.
We ought to be mindful of what we say, but let's be honest: how much of what is called "fact-checking" or "due-diligence" is nothing more than an uncharitable effort to sabotage one's opponent simply because his or her comments can successfully be spun to one's own advantage? If Jesus is right, then the opponent who disagrees with me and is trying to "bring me down" is not the one my anxious thoughts ought to focus one: I ought to be a bit more concerned with what the God of all creation heard me say; and, no, He doesn't spin. He doesn't need to.
BHT
But this seems increasingly to me to come precariously close to assuming a role that is not rightfully ours. In Matt. 12:36, 37 we read that Jesus said, "I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned." Now, it's not clear exactly who will be doing this judging, but I think it's safe to say that Jesus does not intend to leave open the option of letting one of us fill that apparent vacancy. More importantly, though, is the trend I see in political punditry and celebrity blogging (whether of evangelicals, pop-singers, actors, or politicians of a sort) when it comes to what Sarah Palin has so eloquently labelled as "gotcha" questions or moments. It seems that one's opponents spare no expense these days not only in digging up dirt from one's past but in finding it in this mornings news interview before the words even hit the ears of most Americans (who don't make a living off watching internet websites). This seems to be one of the many ways in which we've usurped God's rightful role as judge of our words.
We ought to be mindful of what we say, but let's be honest: how much of what is called "fact-checking" or "due-diligence" is nothing more than an uncharitable effort to sabotage one's opponent simply because his or her comments can successfully be spun to one's own advantage? If Jesus is right, then the opponent who disagrees with me and is trying to "bring me down" is not the one my anxious thoughts ought to focus one: I ought to be a bit more concerned with what the God of all creation heard me say; and, no, He doesn't spin. He doesn't need to.
BHT
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)