1 Timothy 3:16
Without any doubt, the mystery of our religion is great:
He was revealed in flesh,
vindicated in spirit,
seen by angels,
proclaimed among Gentiles,
believed in throughout the world,
taken up in glory.
I know many people who are fascinated by the way things work. Give them a watch and they want to take its face off to reveal the delicate machine inside. Give them a car and they want to open the hood and see its powerful engine. I love people like this—my grandfather Lindley was such a person, an electrical engineer who always loved the inner workings of things.
But I am not a person like this. Give me a car and I’ll dream of the places I could drive it: Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park in Montana; the road from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay that parallels the Alaska Pipeline; the salty, scenic road along the Delaware Bay to Bivalve and Fortescue, New Jersey. Give me a watch, and I’ll be encouraged to run faster, timing myself by the mile to improve on my 10K time.
That is why I love this passage from 1 Timothy. The (extremely) astute reader will recognize this as the passage from the second sermon I preached at Exton, back in September of ’02. I love the way it admits there is mystery to our religion, indeed that our religion is essentially mystery.
The question, “How does it work?” is not one Christianity can usually answer. We don’t know what happened on the molecular level so that Christ was “revealed in flesh.” We can’t say with precision what happened on a spiritual level when he was “vindicated in spirit.” We can’t say exactly how the Holy Spirit touched hearts so that, despite violent persecution, he was “believed in throughout the world.” We cannot measure the force that drew Christ upward when he was “taken up in glory.” The finitude of our minds simply will not let us know these things.
But “What does it mean?” is a question that Christianity can begin to speak to. Because Christ was revealed in flesh, we know that God shares our human joys and pains and can speak with authority to them. Because he was vindicated in spirit, we know he is victorious over any sinister and dark forces that rule those who do not know him. Because he was proclaimed among the Gentiles, those thought to be outside God’s favor, we know he will always be loved and have a special spot for those outside the elite. Because he was taken up in glory, we know that we will meet him there.
Mysteries, unlike watches and cars, are fragile things. Probe them too much and they fall apart. We don’t need to know how everything happens; we can never know it all. Instead, Christ calls us to simply celebrate what is.
He was revealed in flesh,
vindicated in spirit,
seen by angels,
proclaimed among Gentiles,
believed in throughout the world,
taken up in glory.
I know many people who are fascinated by the way things work. Give them a watch and they want to take its face off to reveal the delicate machine inside. Give them a car and they want to open the hood and see its powerful engine. I love people like this—my grandfather Lindley was such a person, an electrical engineer who always loved the inner workings of things.
But I am not a person like this. Give me a car and I’ll dream of the places I could drive it: Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park in Montana; the road from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay that parallels the Alaska Pipeline; the salty, scenic road along the Delaware Bay to Bivalve and Fortescue, New Jersey. Give me a watch, and I’ll be encouraged to run faster, timing myself by the mile to improve on my 10K time.
That is why I love this passage from 1 Timothy. The (extremely) astute reader will recognize this as the passage from the second sermon I preached at Exton, back in September of ’02. I love the way it admits there is mystery to our religion, indeed that our religion is essentially mystery.
The question, “How does it work?” is not one Christianity can usually answer. We don’t know what happened on the molecular level so that Christ was “revealed in flesh.” We can’t say with precision what happened on a spiritual level when he was “vindicated in spirit.” We can’t say exactly how the Holy Spirit touched hearts so that, despite violent persecution, he was “believed in throughout the world.” We cannot measure the force that drew Christ upward when he was “taken up in glory.” The finitude of our minds simply will not let us know these things.
But “What does it mean?” is a question that Christianity can begin to speak to. Because Christ was revealed in flesh, we know that God shares our human joys and pains and can speak with authority to them. Because he was vindicated in spirit, we know he is victorious over any sinister and dark forces that rule those who do not know him. Because he was proclaimed among the Gentiles, those thought to be outside God’s favor, we know he will always be loved and have a special spot for those outside the elite. Because he was taken up in glory, we know that we will meet him there.
Mysteries, unlike watches and cars, are fragile things. Probe them too much and they fall apart. We don’t need to know how everything happens; we can never know it all. Instead, Christ calls us to simply celebrate what is.
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