The Unillustratable God

What do the following things have in common? An egg . . . a pretzel . . . water . . . a man . . . and Aquafresh toothpaste.

The answer? Each of these has been used as an illustration of the Trinity. An egg has three parts—a shell, a yolk, and a white—but it’s all one egg. A pretzel is one long finger of dough twisted into three loops. Under the right conditions, water can simultaneously exist in three different modes: solid, liquid, and gas. A man can be somebody’s father, another person’s son, and another person’s husband—three different names and roles, but one person. And triple-protection Aquafresh strengthens teeth, fights cavities, and freshens breath—thee distinct functions all in one unique toothpaste!

These illustrations of the Trinity have something else in common: they all illustrate heretical views of the Trinity. Not a single illustration of the Trinity communicates what the Bible and orthodox Christianity teach about the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Every single illustration falls short, often leading to misunderstanding, confusion, and a false doctrine of God.

The true doctrine of the Trinity states that there is but one God, but in the unity of that one Godhead, there are three distinct (not separate), co-eternal, and equally divine Persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. The Father is fully God; the Son is fully God; the Spirit is fully God. However, the Father is not the Son; the Son is not the Spirit; and the Spirit is not the Father. While there is equality of divine essence, each Person of the Trinity functions in a unique role in His relationship to creation and to each other.

Common pitfalls with regard to the doctrine of the Trinity include: 1) separating the three Persons into independent gods; 2) collapsing the three names into a single Person; 3) divvying up divinity in a way that makes each Person one-third God; or 4) distinguishing the Persons so that the Father is God in the proper sense, while the Son and Spirit are lesser generated beings.

Both the egg and pretzel illustrations divvy up divinity, so each part represents only one third of the whole. The water and man illustrations best fit the heretical view that Father, Son, and Spirit are different modes or names for a single Person. And the Aquafresh illustration? Let’s not even go there.

A Historical Warning

Anybody who has been exposed to church history will recall the heretic Arius of Alexandria. He was the presbyter who taught that the Son was a lesser being than the Father, and that there was a time when the Son did not exist. Arius also insisted that the Son was of a different essence than the Father, but was still the highest of the created beings and co-creator of the universe. Only in a relative sense could the Son be called “a god” by humans. In most respects, the view of the Arians is similar to that of the Jehovah’s Witnesses today. The false teachings of Arius were condemned as heresy at the first ecumenical council of Nicaea in AD 325. From that council we have the Nicene Creed, which confesses Jesus as having “the same essence” as the Father, “God from God, light from light, true God from true God.”

Arius fell into his heresy partly because he built his doctrine of God around faulty illustrations of the Trinity set forth by several teachers before him. For example, Dionysius of Alexandria, who died in AD 263, taught that the Father, Son, and Spirit were all co-eternal and fully God, but he used illustrations and analogies of these relationships that communicated inequality. He said the relationship of Father and Son was like that of a shipbuilder and a ship, or a farmer and a vine. Arius later appealed to the illustrations of Dionysius and other teachers of the third century for his heretical view on the relationship of the Son and the Father.(1) In short, the misleading illustrations of Dionysius and others helped confirm Arius in his heresy.

The same thing can happen today when we attempt to illustrate the Trinity with pretzels, pizzas, or apple pies. It just doesn’t work because every illustration grossly distorts the truth.

The Unillustratable God

I’m a fan of making theology simple, but if it means distorting and twisting the doctrine of God, forget it. I like the view of Irenaeus of Lyons at the end of the second century. After exploring all the various possible explanations for the Son’s “generation” from the Father, Irenaeus urges us to leave the mysterious matter unresolved. He writes:

If any one, therefore, says to us, “How then was the Son produced by the Father?” we reply to him, that no man understands that production, or generation, or calling, or revelation, or by whatever name one may describe His generation, which is in fact altogether indescribable. Neither Valentinus, nor Marcion, nor Saturninus, nor Basilides, nor angels, nor archangels, nor principalities, nor powers possess this knowledge, but the Father only who begat, and the Son who was begotten. Since therefore His generation is unspeakable, those who strive to set forth generations and productions cannot be in their right mind, inasmuch as they undertake to describe things which are indescribable.(2)

I don’t know about you, but I like the fact that Christians believe in a God who is utterly indescribable, incomprehensible, and unillustratable. Think about it: would you really want to worship and serve a God whose very essence can be accurately described by an egg, a pretzel, or a tube of toothpaste?

Let’s teach the doctrine of the Trinity accurately. That means dropping all illustrations of the Trinity from your teaching, because every illustration only distorts the unillustratable God.

NOTES:

(1) See Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1, From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451),
trans. John Bowden, 2d rev. ed. (Atlanta: John Knox, 1975), 157–158.

(2) Irenaeus, Against Heresies 2.28.6.

The Disease of Success

For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh
Romans 7:18

There are no guarantees of success in life and ministry. In fact, I’m not exactly sure what “success” actually means. In a recent novel I just read by Graham Greene, A Burnt-Out Case, one of the main characters likened success—along with fame and fortune—to leprosy. Once you have it, you can’t be cured. Even if the disease itself is healed, the effects are permanent and you will—forever and always—be marked as a leper. But unlike leprosy, success seems to be a disease everybody wants. Instead of avoiding those infected and marred by it, we rush to them, assault them with flattery, linger in their aura . . . hoping some of it will infect us as well.

But with success comes the real possibility of failure.

This brings me to the troubling realization that I may someday fail in a successful and fruitful ministry. I have no confidence in my own strength to guarantee that the disease of success will not mar me. The potential mutilations are manifold. I could collapse under stress, sickness, or exhaustion. I could even have a moral fall. Pride and arrogance could consume me and turn me into the monster I’d never want to be.
I pray that day never comes, but if it does, I’ll be in good company. Like the mutilated victims in a leper colony, I would sit down beside the rest of those failed ministers of something that’s not quite like the gospel, but passes for it anyway. I’ll sit in the dust with the Christian authors who betrayed the Lord for a bigger advance. I’ll be with all those preachers and teachers who thought they were good enough for television and for that very reason, weren’t.

In the mournful silence, I’ll ask them: “How did it come to this?”

Then, one by one, they’ll answer:

“I lost sight of that vision God gave me.”

“I lost that inner focus.”

“The Enemy threw too many temptations in my path.”

“My opponents at NBC took me down because they hate it when God blesses His people.”

“I just devoted too much time and energy to ministry and neglected my family.”
“I got caught up in the glitz and glory.”

“I started believing my own press releases.”

When their excuses for failing have run their course, it’ll be my turn.

With all their gazes fixed on me, I’ll answer: “I fell because I’m a dirty, rotten, sinner—a white-washed tomb—full of lies, deceit, hypocrisy, envy, pride, and hate. I fell because of what I am, not because of what I’ve done. And if not for the incomprehensible grace of God, I would be burning in Hell this very moment.”

Each of them will turn their gazes away, not because my words will shame them, but because they simply won’t believe me.

That’s because Christians naively think their love of sin vanished when salvation came. No. We are, as Luther said, simultaneously sinners and saints. We struggle with the desires of the flesh and war against the Spirit. Yet God will be glorified even by our failures. He will be glorified even if He has to discipline us because our ministry in the name of Christ has been built on lies, deception, hypocrisy, and pride . . . all in the name of success. And in the end all heaven and earth will glorify God for finally letting us have it.
Face it: you and I are never as great as we make ourselves out to be, never as valuable to the kingdom as others think we are. We’re all just clay in the hands of the Potter and the sooner we accept that, the better off we’ll be—regardless of how bad off we are.