“Is. 45:15 Truly, you are a God who hides himself,
O God of Israel, the Savior.”
I was doing my gratitude list this morning, and I finished my list with the words “God in all his puzzlingness.”
I was puzzled by this. And, yes, I know that “puzzlingness” is not a real word, but perhaps it should be. Frankly, there are a lot of things about God that puzzle me.
I am somewhat comforted by the struggles of others with the puzzling nature of God. For example, Christopher J. H. Wright—in a book appropriately entitled, “The God i Don’t Understand [1]—acknowledges, “I live daily with the grateful joy of knowing and trusting God. But knowing and trusting does not necessarily add up to understanding. Even knowing somebody very well is not the same as understanding them fully, as the most happily married couples will readily testify.”[2]
I am also comforted by something my systematic theology professor said many years ago: “If you’ve got a god you can get your mind around, you’ve got an idol just as sure as shootin’!” Thank you, Dr. Tom Parker!
In twelve-step programs, we talk a lot about “the God of our understanding.” This is pretty generic, but perhaps it should be even more generic. How about “the God of our puzzlement”?
Now, don’t get me wrong. There are some things that I think can indeed be known about God. However, as I get older, I am more and more tolerant, even appreciative, of the unknown aspects of God.
Of course, many (probably even most) of my puzzlements are due to my own willingly chosen confusion. The truth is that I don’t always want to understand God as God is. I would much rather have a god who is made in my image.
Also, I confess that I’m not particularly good at understanding my fellow-humans as they are. I find them recalcitrantly puzzling. Why should I expect God not to be puzzling, really?
But perhaps the puzzling nature of God is not a problem, but a blessing. Perhaps “puzzling” is another name for “Mystery”. And the word “Mystery” is capitalized for a reason. Maybe I should give thanks for God’s puzzlingness more often.
[1] Christopher J. H. Wright, The God i Don’t Understand: Reflections on Tough Questions of Faith (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008). And yes: The “i” is lower case in the title of the book. Wright seems to be trying to wrestle with his reflections with the attitude of a little “i”, rather than a big I.
[2] Ibid., 13.
“The LORD demands accurate scales and balances; he sets the standards for fairness.” (Proverbs 16:11, New Living Translation)
“Not fair!!” (My youngest daughter whenever her older sister and brother beat her in a footrace)
I was thinking about fairness this morning, and it suddenly occurred to me that fairness is very important, but very rare.
The words for “fair” in the Bible are often translated with words like “just, justice,” and “judgment.” However, justice seems to me to be a word that is too narrow to really convey what the Hebrew and Greek words mean. “Fair” and “fairness” seem to be a fairer translation.
Throughout the Old and New Testaments, we are told that God is fair. It may not seem so to us. In fact, to tell the truth, God very often appears to be anything but fair. However, I need to distinguish between who God is and who God may appear to be to me.
Furthermore, both the Old and New Testaments tell me that I also need to be fair. Now, the Scriptures are getting plumb meddlesome!
Being fair to others is very hard work. If I let a person into my lane on the highway, I may be trying to be fair. But what about the people behind me? Am I being fair to them?
It occurred to me this morning that there is one person that I am particularly unfair to: myself. I frequently talk badly about myself. I am demanding. I want to be the perfect everything. I try to hold myself to a higher standard than I would anyone else—including God. Seriously! I would more readily allow for some sort of weakness in God than in myself.
Not FAIR!
But how can I truly believe in the fairness of God, unless I am at least trying to be fair to myself? If I don’t practice fairness, I tend to make God over into my own image. That is called idolatry. It is also called stupidity.
And if I am not fair to myself, how can I be fair to others? I can only act, based on who I am. If I am not practicing the fine art of fairness toward myself, how can I make a serious attempt at being fair to others.
So, today I am going to be fair to myself. To practice and to make progress in the spiritual realm, I need to practice all the virtues—fairness included—toward myself, as well as toward everyone else.
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