An Unraveling Mystery

It was as if living in Russia (2000-2002) had provided the snag in my garment the fabric of which began to unwind at increasing rates. We arrived in Russia believing that it was only an exceptional case for a Russian Orthodox person to be a Christian. We left having met many Russian Orthodox who were irrefutably beautiful Christians, reveling the anemic nature my own Christian faith. Now we were presented with the possibility of weaving a new and more beautiful garment out of the same golden thread.

Herman Bavinck has a well known quote that begins the second volume of Reformed Dogmatics, which nevertheless has resonated with me since the first moment I heard it quoted by Rev. Dr. David McWilliams at WTS:

Mystery is the lifeblood of dogmatics. To be sure, the term “mystery” (μυστηριον) in Scripture does not mean an abstract supernatural truth in the Roman Catholic sense. Yet Scripture is equally far removed from the idea that believers can grasp the revealed mysteries in a scientific sense. [1]

At that time, it was precisely my modern enlightenment approach to Christianity that explicitly and implicitly attempted to reduce the faith to the confines of a mental spreadsheet. While I’m not convinced that modern Roman Catholics, particularly Thomists, would recognize themselves in Bavinck’s description of their own approach to mystery; it is the balanced sense of wonderful mystery represented in this quote that imbibed a way forward for me in autumn of 2002.

[1] Herman Bavinck, God and Creation, ed. John Bolt, trans. John Vriend, 3 vols., Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 2 (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2004), 29

My wife and I are reading through a most contemplation evoking paper presently on the Eucharist that has sparked a great wonder and awe of God in me. Traditionally, we have thought of God as being of infinitely greater and altogether different kind of being from which we have our being analogously. Even so, one of my favorite theologians begins his volume on the Doctrine of God:

Mystery is the lifeblood of dogmatics. To be sure, the term “mystery” ( μυστηριον) in Scripture does not mean an abstract supernatural truth in the Roman Catholic sense. Yet Scripture is equally far removed from the idea that believers can grasp the revealed mysteries in a scientific sense. In truth, the knowledge that God has revealed of himself in nature and Scripture far surpasses human imagination and understanding. In that sense it is all mystery with which the science of dogmatics is concerned, for it does not deal with finite creatures, but from beginning to end looks past all creatures and focuses on the eternal and infinite One himself.¹

For newer generations to theology, the term ‘dogmatics’ simply means ‘systematic theology’. Systematic theology then serves its greatest purpose when it exposes its very limitation and inability to circumscribe God, compelling us to a greater sense of worship in the face of wonder and mystery.

God’s Givenness in Redemptive History

God’s people have believed for about 3,500 years that God was the one who gives himself to his people. He confined himself to a pillar of fire in the desert of Sinai to lead his people out of Egypt. The infinite God took up residence in a structure built by human hands(!), in order to demonstrate his givenness to us.

4But that same night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, 5“Go and tell my servant David, ‘Thus says the Lord: Would you build me a house to dwell in? 6I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent for my dwelling. (2 Samuel 7:4-6, ESV)

The question here is ironic. David out of good intention wants God to “live” in a better place. God reminds him that he has chosen to limit himself to a tent. In asking the question, the Lord is drawing the reader towards his givenness and help us to see his utter humility, to limit himself in ways that we can perceive and with which we may relate.

So when the Lord takes on flesh and makes his dwelling among us (literally tabernacles among us in John 1:14, looking back to the tent in the above reference;), we find the apex of his givenness to us. He is not our God at a distance, but has taken on humanity that we might take on godliness.

Incarnation as Paradigm of Givenness

Therefore, the Incarnation of God in the person of Jesus of Nazareth is one of the greatest if not the greatest mysteries in all of creation. The Incarnation is a double-sided confrontation. First, exposes us, who are poor beyond measure, leading us to mourn our poverty to be made meek that we hunger and thirst for righteousness that we ourselves do not have.

Second, in our poverty we find that God throwing aside the glory of heaven, limited himself to a human being, in time, in space, in life and death and in so doing redefines all things created. In other words, God the Son made himself poor to mourn with us, demonstrating truly meek submission to the Father, whose righteousness he hungered and thirsted after to no end.

The Incarnation as the apex of God’s givenness to us shows us with the greatest alacrity that he is not a God that is far off. Nor is he a God who merely wants to make our lives more comfortable. No, the God of heaven and earth is the God who is given, who has through out all history, both before and after the Fall of Humanity into sin sought to give himself in the deepest fellowship to us. This at once underscores the compassion of our God and his passion for his people, while at the same time exposes the insanity of rejecting the means by which he gives himself to us not just 2,009 years ago (being born c.a. 2 BC). No, God has pledged himself to his church as an eternal bridegroom to be given to us eternally, apart from time, always.

Givenness in the Meantime

We now live in the time between when this givenness is initiated and when it is consummated. We live in a time in which our eternal and incarnate bridegroom has gone to prepare a place for us in eternity, apart from time, always. We now wait as the betrothed.

He has not left us or abandoned us in this time in between. He has allowed himself to be revealed through human, created, finite language in the Bible, both preached and read. He indwells us with his Spirit, while the Son intercedes for us to the Father and helps us to pray acceptably (Romans 8). He gives himself to us in the baptism, promising to attend the baptism with his Spirit. He allows himself to be communicated in the Lord’s Table, the Eucharist, in which believers feed upon Christ, who is our life (John 1:4):

32Jesus then said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. 33For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 34They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” 35Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst. (John 6:32-35, ESV)

God’s Eternal Givenness

The written Word of God, both read but especially preached now, directs us to the moment (if we can employ such a temporally loaded term as ‘moment’) when we will be with the Word of God, Jesus Christ, the Son of God for eternity. It compels us towards our eschatological destiny in Christ, who we are taught will come again to give himself to us, and us to him, completely.

Prayer to the Lord is mediated now and quite imperfect on our part; nevertheless, we may come before the throne of grace boldly (though not arrogantly), on account of God’s givenness in Christ, who now as a human being (also fully God) intercedes for us to the Father. We look to the time when our prayers are unhindered perfect interpersonal connection with the Lord:

Prayer is beyond any question the highest activity of the human soul. Man is at his greatest and highest when upon his knees he comes face to face with God.²

Where the Scriptures and prayer are verbal means by which God communicates to us himself; the sacraments of baptism and the Eucharist are visible ways. Jesus is not the bread, nor is he the wine, but he does communicate himself to us through the means of bread and wine. He does give himself to us in promising to bind himself to us in baptism and gives us his life in when we receive the bread and wine.

We live in the time between that is both unique and at the same time very consonant with all history before us. God of heaven and earth has sought to and accomplished the reconciliation of the world in Christ Jesus, the God-Man, who perpetually gives himself to us as a picture of the eternal and unhindered givenness of God we will experience in glory.

He prays, but He hears prayer. He weeps, but He causes tears to cease. He is bruised and wounded, but He heals every disease and every infirmity. He is lifted up and nailed to the Tree, but by the Tree of Life He restores us, yes, He saved even the robber crucified with Him. He dies, but He gives life, and by His death destroys death. He is buried, but He rises again…³

² Martyn Lloyd-Jones. Studies in the Sermon on the Mount, 2 vols. [ Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979], 2:45

³ Gregory of Nazianzus. The Fourth Theological Oration XX, NPNF Vol. VII, P. 309.

In the resurrection of Christ it was proved that there was a man who could not be contained by death, could not be ruled by Satan, by the power of corruption, who was stronger than the grave and death and hell. In principle, therefore, Satan has as a matter of fact no longer the domionion over death. Christ by His death has overcome death (Heb. 2:14).

A Jesus who had died would be enough for us if Christianity were nothing more, and needed to be nothing more, than a doctrine for us to grasp with our mind, or a moral prescription and example which we had to follow. But the Christian religion is something very different and much more than that. It is the perfect redemption of the whole man, of the whole organism of mankind, and of the whole world. And Christ came to earth in order in this full sense to save the world. He did not come to achieve the possibility of salvation for us all, and then to leave to our free will the question of whether or not we would take advantage of the possibility. Instead, He humiliated Himself and became obedient even to the death on the cross in order really, perfectly and eternally to save us.¹

Perhaps we might transplant this quote into our own context this way. Christianity is far more transcendent than being a Republican or striving to maintain political conservatism. Christianity is far more immanent than a Gospel of being busy doing the right things or merely believing that the doctrine of Justification by Faith Alone (which is true) is what saves us. It is Christ that saves, Christ that gives life, Christ that reconciles us to the Father both now and into an eternal age in which we will not have much recollection of what a Republican or Democrat was. There will be far too much of Christ to need to conserve him.

That same Christ is in our midst even now, already here but not yet as He will be. Nevertheless that same Christ is in the midst of His church really and truly now.

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¹ Bavinck, Herman. Our Reasonable Faith. (Baker Books, 1977). p 363.

I have been enjoying how marvelous some of the Reformed writers of the late 19th century have articulated thoughts on the Uberdisciple (my term), Mary the mother of Jesus:

Mary enjoyed a high honor, an honor greater than the prophets and apostles ever had. She is the blessed, the favored, among women, and the mother of the Lord.

Bavinck, Herman. Our Reasonable Faith. p 336.

The person born of the Virgin Mary was a divine person. He was the Son of God. It is, therefore, correct to say that Mary was the mother of God. For, as we have seen, the person of Christ is in Scripture often designated from the divine nature, when the predicate is true only of the human nature. On this particular form of expression,
which, from its abuse, is generally offensive to Protestant ears, Turrettin remarks:

“Maria potest dici vere θεοτόκος seu Mater Dei, Deipara, si vox Dei sumatur concrete pro toto personali Christi, quod constat ex persona Λόγου et natura humana, quo sensu vocatur Mater Domini Luc. i. 43, sed non precise et abstracte ratione Deitatis.”

Hodge, Charles. Systematic Theology.
Vol 2, p 393.

God and Suffering, Pain, and Evil
The pastor who wishes to comfort the afflicted, that they be not crushed; the perplexed, that they be not driven to despair; the persecuted, that they be not forsaken; those who are struck down, that they be not destroyed; must have clear in his own mind the pure goodness of God and the place of suffering in the divine economy to the degree to which the Lord has revealed this mystery. For Wiesel and many others, an all-good God, who is also all-powerful could not exist and at the same time have allowed such horror to occur as Wiesel describes from his own experience.

However, this way of thinking appears to affirm the Lord God, Almighty rather than argue for his non-existence. When a cat kills a canary we have no moral qualm with God. People overwhelmed with great suffering, tragedy which has come lacerating their lives, the indignation one may feel against God, itself presupposes Him. “A cat cannot sin, even though it may swallow the canary, for a cat does not know the difference. But a man knows evil, and therefore knows—God. Pain and death come from sinful failure” (emphasis added).¹ Wiesel, in agony few will every know in their lifetime, seems to turn his back on Judeo-Theism and embraces some form of agnosticism or atheism. Yet, neither of these worldviews can comfort the tormented soul. They can offer Wiesel no more hope than a theism without a Crucifixion. To view the Holocaust a vile evil and then conclude that this historical event proves that God does not exist, is to presuppose the Lord God Almighty in all the purity of His goodness, as the moral standard. To turn the back in unbelief against the Lord God on account of His choice to allow heinous suffering, does in no way address for Wiesel the vile evil that tormented him. It is painful autobiography of his own rejection of his Creator on the basis of the performance he feels God should have done for him. Indeed, this is Wiesel’s frustration when he writes, “I did not deny God’s existence, but I doubted His absolute justice.”² This is not submitted to minimize the torment that someone like Wiesel endured but to ask the question from where does the one who rejects God on a moral basis derive his morality? It is a pastoral call to counsel people at the root of their pain, to proclaim to them the Holy One in all His power, who alone can heal and comfort them.

Wiesel also records that many of the atrocities against the Jews were committed one to another. In the twilight of starvation, son would murder father for bread. May we rail against the Lord, for not helping us while killing one another? In the midst of his unbelief, Wiesel erupts into prayer, “My God, Lord of the Universe, give me strength never to do what Rabbi Eliahou’s son had done.”³ (Rabbi Eliahou’s son had abandoned his father to his death during a forced march). Ironically, the one prayer that Wiesel cries out in desperation is the very thing that came to pass. He stayed true to his own father until his death.

Man’s concept of goodness is derivative of God as the archetype of goodness. Apart from the Triune God there is no basis for determining good and evil. Consequentially, statements of what is good or that the Holocaust was evil reduce to meaninglessness. “…He is himself the absolutely good, the perfect one, he cannot and may not love anything else except with a view to himself. He cannot and may not be satisfied with anything less than absolute perfection.”⁴ Scripture instructs us in this way, that goodness is understood with God himself as both its source and goal:

6 Many are asking, “Who can show us any good?”Let the light of your face shine upon us, O LORD. 7 You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound. 8 I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety. (Psalm 4:6-8, emphasis added)

The child of God may rejoice in the wonder of the revelation of this passage. In these few lines of Hebrew verse the Lord teaches us that there is absolute good, and that this good is an ontological facet in the blinding spectrum of the diadem of His own being. It is the Lord who fills the heart with joy. The basis for peace and rest is that God causes one to dwell in safety (Hiphil imperfect – ynIbeyvi/T).

With the sovereignty of God in His decrees there is always the other side which is not as easily stomached. There are those such as Wiesel who have indeed not found themselves dwelling in safety nor sleeping in peace. Nowhere does God promise His people ease and prosperity, on the contrary, from cover to cover, God’s own testimony in the Scripture is that the world is fallen, and He is working throughout history, even by way of sin, suffering and pain, to redeem a people for Himself. We may, therefore, understand the Bible’s testimony that pain and evil may come our way, resulting from the sinfulness of fallen man, actively permitted by a sovereign God. Bavinck succinctly points out with regard to election and reprobation a principle which transcends “in a sense”⁵ to the problem of pain and evil when he writes, “If God foreknows and permits something, he does this either ‘willingly’ or ‘unwillingly.’ The latter is impossible. Accordingly, only the former remains: God’s permission is an ‘efficacious permission,’ an act of his will.”⁶

Do I have the reason for why God, in the purest light of his goodness, allowed the Holocaust to occur? Indeed, this is not the case; however, the Word of God makes graciously plain to man that war, sin and atrocity serves a purpose in the divine economy. The scriptures soberly remind all who would read that God is not the author of evil but that he does use evil to glorify himself. “God predestined the Fall, and though, as supreme ruler, as Supreme Ruler, he executes his plan even by means of sin; nevertheless, he remains holy and righteous; of his own accord man falls and sins: the guilt is his alone.”⁷

In summary, God in his sovereignty does actively permit pain, suffering, and evil, and that active permission is nothing short of ordaining these things to happen. How is it then that God is not guilty of Auschwitz or any other evil in this world? Much of the answer to this question lies beyond mankind’s ability or privilege to understand. The Apostle Paul gives us the most direct, and arguably the only direct answer, in the ninth chapter of Romans when he writes by way of divine inspiration:

19You will say to me then, “Why does He still find fault? For who resists His will?” 20On the contrary, who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, “Why did you make me like this,” will it? 21Or does not the potter have a right over the clay, to make from the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for common use? (Ro 9:19-21 NASB95)

In Job’s case the Lord responded to Job’s inquiry by informing him (in the last three chapters of the book) of the nature of Creation, that he was largely ignorant of the nature of the world and the evil in it. John Frame comments with a view towards this question via analogy⁸ between Shakespeare, Macbeth, and Duncan, whom Macbeth murdered. No one would charge Shakespeare as guilty for the murder of Duncan even though Shakespeare is ultimately responsible for his death.⁹ Essentially, what the Reformed tradition argues is that there are two kinds of causalities; i.e., first and second causes. The Westminster Confession of Faith seeks to articulate this same concept when it states:

God from all eternity, did, by the most wise and holy counsel of His own will, freely, and unchangeably ordain whatsoever comes to pass: yet so, as thereby neither is God the author of sin, nor is violence offered to the will of the creatures; nor is the liberty or contingency of second causes taken away, but rather established.¹⁰

Although, in relation to the foreknowledge and decree of God, the first Cause, all things come to pass immutably, and infallibly; yet, by the same providence, He ordereth them to fall out, according to the nature of second causes, either necessarily, freely, or contingently.¹¹

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¹ George Arthur Buttrick. God, Pain and Evil (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1966), 77.

² Elie Wiesel. The Night Trilogy (New York: Hill and Wang, 2001), 53.

³ ibid., 97.

⁴ Herman Bavinck. The Doctrine of God. (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1997), 204.

⁵ Bavinck makes certain, as do I, that the reader understand that we do not advocate that God is the author of sin and evil, but that these are instruments, actively and efficaciously permitted, by which he purposes to manifest the excellencies of His glory (see discussion of God’s glory at the top of p. 390 in Doct. of God).

⁶ Herman Bavinck. The Doctrine of God. (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1997), 388.

⁷ ibid., 385.

⁸ Analogies are tools for understanding in derivative fashion and not 1:1 in their correspondence.

⁹ John Frame. The Doctrine of God. (Phillipsburg: P & R, 2002), 179-81.

¹⁰ Westminster Confession of Faith III.1.

¹¹ ibid., V.2.

All things are of God, through Him, and unto Him. Hence our soul can rest in it with unperturbed certainty. It is God’s will, his eternal, independent, and immutable will, that in the church [humanity] be restored and saved. We are convinced of this comfort of election even more when we remember that the counsel of God is a work of His mind not merely, but also of His will, is not a thought merely which belongs to the realm of eternity but also an almighty power which realizes itself in time. So it is with all God’s excellences and perfections: they are not passive, silent attributes, but are almighty powers, full of life and action.

I am continually amazed at the Dutch Reformed theologians, or at least the Bavincks and Ridderboses of the world. They seem to have not swallowed the jagged pill of rationalism that the Enlightenment was handing out like a cosmic drug-pusher. Bavinck begins his volume on the Doctrine of God, “Mystery is the lifeblood of dogmatics.” He writes about a God who is really God! who is really and infinitely more than just a projection of himself. To write about such a God entails mystery. With that introduction, let me share with you a few lines on the Providence of God that I found worth pondering:

I would love your thoughtful reflections on this quote.