In response to both the objections of others and their own investigations, Christians are often faced with the task of resolving what appear to be Biblical inconsistencies. This exercise usually consists of contriving rationalisations which, however robust, fail to really convince either the plaintiff or the defendant.
Let me state from the outset that I am fully sympathetic with the field of apologetics. Contrary to what I have heard many Christians opine, I believe that a rational defence of Christianity is not only possible, but imperative. However, I would like to suggest that we should treat alleged contradictions not only on as logical inconveniencies that need to be resolved and expunged, but also as valuable carriers of profound meaning that need to be explored and embraced.
The mistake, I think, lies not in seeking to reconcile apparent contradictions, but rather in proceeding to disregard them. Since they are not really inconsistencies, we should not fear them. Rather, we should ask why they are there in the first place. Surely even the most ardent champion of Biblical infallibility would accept the premise that everything in the Bible is there for a reason. 'Everything' in this context includes those awkward, bothersome dichotomies that are so often the subject of debate - predestination vs. free will, God's love vs. human suffering, and so on. If we accept that even the thorniest of theological questions has been presented to us for a reason, however, the notion that we should merely 'reason them away' fails to satisfy.
One reason for the presence of these contentious, equivocal issues could be that they render faith necessary by precluding the possibility of basing one's belief solely on one's own understanding. The issues do not disprove the Christian message, but they do rule out the exclusive use of deductive logic in proving that message by leaving open alternative explanations. It is then up to the individual - her heart, perhaps, or even her mind if she is willing to apply inductive logic - as to which explanation to espouse. This idea is loosely analogous to Jesus talking in parables so that only those who were prepared to understand Him would do so, or to Him refusing to perform miracles in places of unbelief.
The merit of this perspective is to emphasise the insufficiency of logic. However, I would submit that it tells only half of the story - the negative side, that is. In isolation, it entails the contradictory (!) implication that God is intentionally obscuring Himself. We know that He wants everyone to come to Him; so why wouldn't He leave a trail of deductive logic? After all, parables are enlightening as much as they are enigmatic.
The answer, I propose, lies in the concept of paradox. A paradox can refer to "a self-contradictory and false proposition", but it can also refer to "a statement or proposition that seems self-contradictory or absurd but in reality expresses a possible truth" (Dictionary.com, emphasis added). A paradox therefore juxtaposes two or more dissonant ideas which may nevertheless be consistent; indeed, the dissonance may convey a unique truth that is not contained in any of its constituent elements. In short, paradoxes may reveal more than they conceal.
I would posit that when we earnestly engage with the paradoxes of the Bible rather than merely trying to escape them, we find that they perform this very function; far from being obstacles, they are signposts which point the way, that Way being Christ. An obvious example is the tension between the Old and New Testaments, the former replete with law, judgement, and sacrifice, the latter abounding with grace, love, and compassion. We know that Christ was the fulfilment of the law, the recipient of judgement, the ultimate sacrifice; and we know that it is through Him that God's grace, love, and compassion are most definitively exhibited. With Christ, the paradox is consistent - but it is still a paradox, without which the meaning of Christ would actually be diminished.
In fact, the reason that paradoxes are so powerful is that they are consistent with our own experiences. If you are a Christian, I would hazard a guess that you still sin on occasion. I would also venture to predict that you will one day die. How can this be, if we are saved from the slavery of sin and redeemed from the curse of death? Anyone who ignores this paradox is being disingenuous, for it confronts us inexorably. Its resolution is found in the Romans chapter 7, where Paul recounts the tension between his spiritual self and his fleshly self, the former having been redeemed but the latter remaining hostile to God. In the following chapter, Paul relates this personal paradox to a temporal paradox: although we "have received a spirit of adoption as sons" (verse 15), we "[wait] eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body" (verse 23). Christ has already come, and, in a spiritual sense, the work was finished on the cross; yet, paradoxically, we look forward its full culmination.
Later in the book of Romans, Paul indicates that, although we have already been saved, our "salvation is nearer to us than when we believed" (Romans 13:11); although we have been imbued with light and life, we will soon "awaken from sleep" as "the night is almost gone, and the day is near" (Romans 13:12); although we have been recreated, we look forward to the day when Christ will make "all things new". Essentially the same mystery is evident in the fact that we have never seen God even though He has revealed Himself to us - that we do not fully know Him even though we can in fact know Him personally (see 1 Corinthians 13). The literary device of paradox is the most literal way of describing these discordant realities.
Rather than embrace these familiar tensions, Christians are wont to brush them under the carpet, for fear of losing an argument or even losing their own faith. This is not surprising - etymologically, a paradox refers to something that is 'beyond belief'. When it comes to the Bible, however, I have tried to show that paradoxes, if approached unreservedly, can actually bolster our belief by accurately describing the reality with which we are familiar. In this paradoxical sense, paradoxes are akin to parables in the sense of both illuminating and obscuring, depending on whether they are accepted in faith or rejected in doubt.
My modest proposal is this: in resolving critical issues of faith, we should not seek to dissolve them; rather, we should appreciate them as crucial carriers of spiritual meaning.
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