Author, Roger.
Published, March 31, 2009.

Simon, it is funny you should mention Calvin and Arminius and the debate between them and their followers.  There have been some interesting discussions in a Theology class that I myself am not privy to at my college.  The class is grace and eschatology—and as such has everything to do with salvation (or soteriology).  I have heard of the discussions and thought I would share a little of, I suppose, a thought (epiphany?) of mine.  Actually it has shaped my understanding of the task of a theologian, even a student theologian.  First I will share a little from a book I have read.  The book is called Mister God, this is Anna. It is a great book, a story of a young girl, an orphan, with an amazing insight into the realms of Mister God.  It may be hard to understand, but stick at it.  We join in a conversation between Anna, and Fynn;

“Not going to Sunday school no more.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cos she don’t teach you nuffink about Mister God.”

“Perhaps you don’t listen properly.”

“I do, and she don’t say nuffink.”

“You mean to say you don’t learn anything?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh, that’s good.  What do you learn?”

“Sunday school Teacher is frightened.”

“What makes you say that sort of thing; how do you know that she’s frightened?”

“Well, she won’t let Mister God get bigger.”

“How is it that Sunday school teacher won’t let Mister God get bigger?”

“Mister God is big?”

“Yeah, Mister God is good and big.”

“And we’re little?”

“Right enough, we’re little.”

“And there is a big difference?”

“Yeah, and then some.”

“If there wasn’t no difference, it wouldn’t be worth it, would it?”

This confused me a little.  I suppose I must have looked a bit puzzled, so she came again, sideways this time.

“If’n Mister God and me was the same size, you couldn’t tell, could you?”

“Yes,” I said, “I see what you mean.  If the difference is very big, then it stands to reason that Mister God is big.”

“Sometimes,” she cautioned.

It obviously wasn’t as simple as that.  In easy stages I was led to accept the fact that the bigger the difference between us and Mister God, the more Godlike Mister God became.  At such a time when the difference was infinite, then would Mister God be absolute.

“What’s all this got to do with Sunday school teacher?  She certainly knows about the difference.”

“Oh yes,” nodded Anna.

“So what’s the problem?”

“When I find out things it makes the difference bigger, and Mister God gets bigger.”

“So?”

“Sunday school Teacher makes the difference bigger but Mister God stays the same size.  She’s frightened.”

“Hey, hold on a tick.  How come she makes the difference bigger and Mister God stays the same size?”

I nearly lost the answer; it was one of those real “give-away” lines.  Tossed off so quietly.

“She just makes the people littler.”

Then she went on, “Why do we go to church, Fynn?”

“To understand Mister God more.”

“Less.”

“Less what?”

“To understand Mister God less.”

“Wait a blessed minute.  You’re flipped!”

“No, I’m not.”

“You most certainly are.”

“No.  You go to church to make Mister God really, really big.  When you make Mister God really, really, really big, then you really, really don’t understand Mister God—then you do.”

She was just a little surprised and disappointed to learn that this was over my head, way over my head, but she explained.

When you’re little you understand Mister God.  He sits up there on his throne, a golden one of course; he has got whiskers and a crown and everyone is singing hymns like mad to him.  God is useful and useable.  You can ask him for things; he can strike your enemies deader than a doornail; and he is pretty good at putting hexes on the bully next door, like warts and things.  Mister God is so understandable, so useful, and so useable, he is like some object—perhaps the most important object of all—but nevertheless an object and absolutely understandable.  Later on you understand him to be a bit different, but you are still able to grasp what he is.  Even though you understand him, he doesn’t seem to understand you!  He doesn’t seem to understand that you simply must have a new bike, so your understanding of him changes a bit more.  In whatever way or state you understand Mister God, so you diminish his size.  He becomes an understandable entity among other understandable entities.  So Mister God keeps on shedding bits all the way through your life until the time comes when you admit freely and honestly that you don’t understand Mister God at all.  At this point you have let Mister God be his proper size—and wham!—there he is, laughing at you.

Ok, so that was a little longer than I thought it would be.  But I don’t mind sharing this book, it is all of it like this, rather amazing.  But you see what she is saying?  The more we define God, the less we understand of him.  We try to understand him, but then he will break out of that box that we created.  Then again and again, until we realise that he is indeed infinite. As Simon mentioned, when you “follow” Calvin, or Apollos, etc. you cease to claim a following of the fullness of Christ, you follow something smaller.

The problem with the ongoing debates of these rival factions is not even that they disagree; but that their definitions of God, Christ and salvation are something less than that which the bible allows.  Our God is infinite, and the Bible allows for Yahweh to be so!  (The name Yahweh harks back to the Hebrew stem of the verb “to be”, i.e. I am that I am.)

The greatest work of Theology is the bible itself!  And all theologians should be careful not to restrict God’s own revelation of himself, and to balance expounding the character of God without denying other facets.