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By In Theology

What is Holy Saturday (Blessed Sabbath)?

The Passion Week provides vast theological emotions for the people of God. Palm Sunday commences with the entrance of a divine King riding on a donkey. He comes in ancient royal transportation. That royal procession concludes with a Crucified Messiah exalted on a tree.

The Church also celebrates Maundy Thursday as our Messiah’s commandment to love one another just as He loved us. We then proceed to sing of the anguish of that Good Friday as our blessed Lord is humiliated by soldiers and scolded by the unsavory words of the religious leaders of the day. As he walks to the Mount his pain testifies to Paul’s words that he suffered even to the point of death. But hidden in this glaringly distasteful mixture of blood, vinegar, and bruised flesh is the calmness of the day after our Lord’s crucifixion.

After fulfilling the great Davidic promise in Psalm 22, our Lord rests from his labors in the tomb. Whatever may have happened in those days prior to his resurrection, we know that Christ’s work was finished.

The Church calls this day Blessed Sabbath or more commonly Holy Saturday. On this day our Lord reposed (rested) from his accomplishments. Many throughout history also believe that Holy Saturday is a fulfillment of Moses’ words:

God blessed the seventh day. This is the blessed Sabbath. This is the day of rest, on which the only-begotten Son of God rested from all His works . . .(Gen. 2:2)

The Church links this day with the creation account. On day seven Yahweh rested and enjoyed the fruit of his creation. Jesus Christ also rested in the rest given to him by the Father and enjoyed the fruits of the New Creation he began to establish and would be brought to light on the next day.

As Alexander Schmemann observed:

Now Christ, the Son of God through whom all things were created, has come to restore man to communion with God. He thereby completes creation. All things are again as they should be. His mission is consummated. On the Blessed Sabbath He rests from all His works.

Holy Saturday is a day of rest for God’s people; a foretaste of the true Rest that comes in the Risen Christ. The calmness of Holy Saturday makes room for the explosion of Easter Sunday. On this day, we remember that that darkness of the grave and the resting of the Son was only temporary for when a New Creation bursts into the scene the risen Lord of glory cannot contain his joy, and so he gives it to us.<>vzlomannyeзачем нужно наполнение ов статьями

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By In Scribblings

God’s Storehouse of Givens: Kuyper on Nature

In the first volume of his trilogy on the kingship of Christ, Abraham Kuyper devotes a chapter to the relationship between the kingdom and science. Following the Belgic Confession, which states that creation is a beautiful book by means of which God reveals Himself to man, Kuyper underscores the importance, authority, and necessity of knowledge drawn from nature:

“Nowhere does Scripture suggest that all of our knowledge about nature and the world should be derived from Scripture. It posits that there are things that we can only come to know from nature, from the world, and from the course of the world; and that there are other things, about which nature tells us nothing, that can only be known from revelation. Rather than pulling down the knowledge of nature, Scripture instead expresses that God’s great power and divinity can from the very outset be understood and comprehended from creation. It is the height of folly if you imagine that, with Scripture in front of you, you should be able to know from Scripture about nature, the life of the world, and its history without ever actually investigating nature or the life and composition of the world. (more…)

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By In Theology

Upgraded Humanity: What was Biblical history for? (Part 1)

One of my favorite novels of the nineties was the “cyberpunk” thriller Snow Crash by Neil Stephenson. (Content warning: not a Christian book.) The most unrealistic element in the book, however, was the posited “true meaning” of the story of the Tower of Babel. In the book’s retelling, humans used to be programmable using something a lot like machine code. Consciousness and free will came about through a virus introduced into the human race at Babel.

To repeat: this was the most unrealistic part of the novel, but it allows conflict as Hiro Protagonist (his real name—the novel doesn’t take itself too seriously) discovers a global conspiracy to reverse the virus and make humans programmable again. I took it as a metaphor for the quest for unity versus the value of freedom despite the social costs.

How Do You Upgrade Human Software?

But recently I’ve been thinking again about this fictional alternative to the Biblical story and the Bible’s own information about how humans are upgraded. After all, at Babel, something like a change in human “software” did miraculously take place. God wiped out a vocabulary and rules of grammar in people’s brains and uploaded new words and grammar rules in their place. The analogy to computer programs isn’t that much of a reach.

But when God called Abram (the story that follows the story of Babel and the scattering of humans into diverse nations), he does so in a way that makes clear that Abram is his “tower.”

And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be dispersed over the face of the whole earth.” (Genesis 11:3-4; ESV)

Now the LORD said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you. And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing. I will bless those who bless you, and him who dishonors you I will curse, and in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.” (Genesis 12:1-3; ESV)

We know from the miracle of Pentecost that God wanted the divisions imposed at Babel to be ameliorated so that a unity could be provided through the Gospel.

But what was the purpose of history between Babel and Pentecost? What was God doing?

Maybe we should ask ourselves how human “software” is normally “installed” or changed. Unlike what some science fiction may lead you to imagine, one can’t change thinking and behavior simply by plugging the brain into a computer. Brains are part of bodies, not machines.

How do people normally acquire language? Outside of the events of the special creation of Adam and Eve and the tower of Babel, we get our language from being immersed in a speaking and acting culture from the time we are born. We learn language not only by listening, or listening and watching, but by bodily interacting with others. We learn through our bodies.

And perhaps that’s the answer. Consider what the Bible tells us about God feeding Israel with manna in the wilderness. He gives them food to gather day by day six days a week. Any attempt to save up for the next day is frustrated because it becomes inedible except on the sixth day. On that day, they can gather for the daily bread and for the seventh day. And on the seventh day no manna appears on the ground.

God didn’t simply tell the people to work six days and rest on the seventh; he trained them to do so. (more…)

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By In Interviews, Theology

Is Genesis History? – Changing the Question

Thomas Purifoy has set out to reframe a debate.

The maker of the documentary style film, “Is Genesis History?” is doing his part to provoke a public conversation about science and the Bible, and he wants to change the main question from being about science, to being about history.

The Film and the Interview

“Is Genesis History?” came to theaters in February – and in June, it has come to Netflix. You can find it on Amazon video as well. The recent video release of the film prompted me to call Thomas, who is an old friend, and discuss the film in an interview for Kuyperian Commentary – that interview will be the content of the podcast here on Wednesday.

An Evolution in Theological Thought

When Thomas and I spoke, he and I shared our common concern over what he called, “the incursion of evolutionary thought” into the current stream of evangelical theological (more…)

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By In Theology

The House and the Ascension

Long ago, our Father in Heaven had a plan. His plan was to create the world as a theater to display his glory. The world was to be a house that reflected his name. The Shekinah glory was to remain there forever. And through many dangers, toils, and snares, the house was little by little losing the purpose the builder had for it.

It would appear that God’s building project had become an abysmal failure. But God’s construction plans are not like our building projects. His ways are not our ways. He had a plan. He had a restoration project. He was going to restore, rebuild, and reclaim his own house. This time, the house was not going to be built on spiritual adultery or religious idolatry. It would be on the Rock, which is Christ. The builders rejected him, but the new humanity composed of men and women, and children united to the Rock, will no longer deny him.

In the life of Jesus, the foundation was poured on the earth. In his death, the wall and roof were placed to cover the world and give it shade. In his resurrection, fresh, clean water is available. Come and drink of the river that never runs dry. But there is one part of this earthly construction that is missing. There is a foundation, a roof to protect you from the storms, running water to shower and be replenished, but now we need to turn it on. We need electricity! We need the power to turn the refrigerator, stove, microwave, air conditioner, heater, fan, laptops, cell phones, etc. We need to activate the house so that everyone can live with a purpose. I propose that the Ascension of Jesus is that singular event in history that gives life to everything; that sets everything into motion. It is the electricity that the Church needs to disciple the nations.

Without the Ascension, we are living in an almost finished property. The Ascension means that the house/world is ready to be inhabited once and for all. The power is on. We can now move in together as a Church and take care of it. The workers can all go home. Our only task is now maintaining the house. Now, this house is the world. And the world is a big place. It needs to be energized by the Ascension. The Ascension is God’s way of saying: “My Son’s work is done! Now it’s your turn!” (more…)

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By In Politics, Theology

The End of the Evangelical Christian? A Response to Russell Moore

The rise of Donald Trump has caused Christians of all varieties to question their conservative bona fides. There are many reasons conservatives have chosen Donald Trump. Some have chosen the real estate mogul as the most suited to destroy the Washington machine. Some support the former Apprentice host as the voice of anger for those silenced by the mainstream media and the establishment GOP. Others find his open hostility to illegal immigration his most redeeming value. But while conservatives may have a few reason for voting for the Donald, conservative Christians, in particular, are having a more difficult time. After all, these conservative evangelicals are contemplating voting for someone who believes in God but has not sought God’s forgiveness. In Trump’s world, that is not a contradiction, and for some evangelicals, the contradiction is an acceptable compromise.a

The result has been unnerving for many evangelicals who are generally on the side of Ted Cruz; a conservative Southern Baptist from Texas, who speaks the evangelical language with extreme ease. They cannot fathom why conservative Christians have endorsed someone who does not understand the most fundamental of evangelical commitments.

Some evangelical leaders have embraced Donald Trump enthusiastically. Consider the very conservative Southern Baptist, Robert Jeffress, who endorsed Trump and referred to the Republican front-runner as a “great Christian.” Liberty University President Jerry Falwell Jr. praised Donald as “a successful executive and entrepreneur, a wonderful father and a man who I believe can lead our country to greatness again.” (more…)

  1. While the passion for a Trump candidacy seems to be on the rise, a vast majority of Conservative voices on the right and liberal voices on the left have found  a surprising common ground: #nevertrump.  (back)

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By In Books, Culture

Why Christians Should Read Virgil

Why Christians Should Read Virgil

The works of Virgil are often associated with painful assigned readings and Latin lessons, but a careful reading of this Roman poetry can help the modern Christian understand the first century context of the Christian Church. The poetry of Virgil’s Eclogues, Georgics, and the Aeneid represents a new shift in classical literature, away from tragedy in the Greek sense and toward the expectation of a new golden age.

Virgil Writing on the Eve of Christ’s Birth

Roman Virgil EcloguesWriting in the period following the death of Julius Caesar (44 BC) and during a time of unrest and civil war, Virgil’s initial poetry longs again for peace. Recognizing that the power of the Caesar was not enough to provide a stable future, the poetry focuses on a greater motif of the goodness of creation and nature. Virgil’s agriculture poetry serves two purposes in that it remains relatable to their common life and points to the perfection of the original creation. In relating to his fellow Romans, Virgil’s pastorally lines about husbandry and agriculture remind us of those used a few decades later by the triumphalist born of a virgin who hailed from the town of Nazareth.

The parables of Virgil and Jesus offer accessible wisdom for a generation caught amidst uncertainty and turmoil – hope for people crushed by the weight of the Roman Empire. The use of pastoral parables by Virgil and Jesus are also aimed at the same goal of bringing forth the image of creation. Both the Yahweh of the Jews and the Jupiter of Olympus offer a perfect garden-city where man ought to return. Restoring paradise or returning to Eden is the cultural lens of these pacific scenes of simple farming life. With a clear common cultural context on this issue, it is no surprise that Western culture has kept Virgil in the realm of their own hagiography.

The Messiah’s Garden-City in Virgil’s Poetry

Virgil’s Eclogues represent the first and prophetic part of the poet’s commentary on the political future of Rome. It is here again that Western thinkers picked up on the more messianic triumphalism of Virgil’s writing. The golden age of Rome, according to Virgil’s fourth Eclogue, was to be brought about by the birth of a savior. The following lines represent a messianic view of the man to come:

Yet do thou at that boy’s birth,

in whom the iron race shall begin to cease,

and the golden to arise over all the world,

holy Lucina, be gracious; now thine own Apollo reigns. (2. 8-11.)

It has been speculated whether Virgil may have been influenced by Jewish or Eastern thinkers in putting forward a prophecy similar to those made by Isaiah. Although there is not evidence to suggest that Virgil interacted with the Hebrew writings or even that the later Gospel writers interacted with Virgil’s poetry. Virgil’s messianic verses have caused Christian thinkers throughout the centuries to consider the poet a type of prophet for Christ. The timing of this prophecy is perhaps one of the reasons Dante Alighieri employs Virgil as a “guide” in his own poetry in the Divine Comedy.

Virgil, Dante and the boatman, Phlegyas

Virgil, Dante and the boatman, Phlegyas

Rome’s Version of “Thy Kingdom Come”

While the prophecy of Isaiah would predict the coming of a Messiah whose, “Kingdom would have no end” (Isaiah 9:7), Virgil’s later work would reveal Jupiter putting forth Rome as the “imperium sine fine” or the endless empire. The hope of Virgil’s triumphalism is the imminent realization of this savior to usher in the new world, albeit through Virgil’s personal identification with Roman patriotism, morality, and heroism.

Expecting that the Golden Age of Rome is at hand, Virgil is called to write his great epic The Aeneid.  The story is again a garden story. The story of noble and perfect beginnings that Rome now longs for under their current emperor. In a triumphalist sense, Aeneas is to Adam what Octavius is to Jesus. The Rome that was once Eden is to be restored to wealth, virtue, and peace under the rule of the endless empire. There is in this climax a certain parallel between the Pax Augustus and Pax Christi.

Hail! King of the Jews!

Their parallels ultimately converge as St. John the Baptist announces the coming of Christ’s Kingdom. Christ’s role as the “Son of God” serves as a direct challenge to the narrative of Virgil with the Roman Emperor as “son of God.” This doctrine coupled with the Christians’ commitment to only worship the true emperor, is the source of the conflict between Rome and the Christian Church. Christ’s imperial reign begins at the edict of Pilate as this title was hung above his dying body: “Jesus Of Nazareth The King Of The Jews.”  The Roman world hungry and ready for the Kingdom of the “Son of God” then follows the Roman Centurion, who at the foot of the cross transferred that title from Rome to Jesus.

Roman Coin Son of God

Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, and subsequent Roman emperors were regularly referred to as “son of God” (divi filius)

Reading Virgil allows us to see how the Romans of the first century would have received Christ’s ministry and understood the reality of his kingdom. A hearty reminder that the sentimental and personalized Jesus born out of our modern age would make little sense to the ancient reader of the Gospels. Christ’s ascension was a clear picture of his enthronement and his reign from the right hand of the Father. The Kingdom really is now. The hope and longing of all of history is realized in the present reality of the reigning King who has and is making all things new.

Recommended Resources for Reading Virgil

  1. Deep Comedy: Trinity, Tragedy, & Hope In Western Literature by Peter Leithart
  2. The Cambridge Companion to Virgil  by Charles Martindale
  3. Virgil’s Gaze: Nation and Poetry in the Aeneid by JD Reed
  4. Virgil: A Study in Civilized Poetry by Brooks Otis
  5. Virgil: Eclogues (Cambridge UP)
  6. Virgil: Georgics (Cambridge UP)
  7. Virgil: The Aeneid (Cambridge UP)
  8. C. S. Lewis’s Lost Aeneid: Arms and the Exile by AT Reyes


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By In Culture, Theology

No Adam, No Christ

Here are some quotes from J.P. Versteeg’s book Adam in the New Testament

In this first quote, he is addressing the argument that Paul thought Adam was historical, but now we know he was not. He shows that despite claims to the contrary, this idea unravels Christ’s work as a historical event. 

Therefore, if in the case of Adam the intention of Paul in his own time is divorced from its significance for us today, that must also have consequences with respect to Christ. For the redemptive-historical correlation between Adam and Christ entails that if what Paul says about Adam no longer holds for us [i.e. that Adam was a historical figure standing at the beginning of the human race], it is impossible to see why what he says about Christ in the same context must still hold for us. What is the sense of an antitype, if there is no type? What is the sense of fulfillment, if there is nothing to fulfill? The redemptive-historical correlation that Paul sees between Adam and Christ means that no longer honoring Paul’s intention when he speaks about Adam must entail no longer honoring Paul’s intention when he speaks about Christ…To no longer honor Paul’s intention when he speaks about Adam entails that the framework in which Paul places Christ and his work, collapses.

Versteeg again, quoting another author:

And suppose that Paul…did indeed believe in the historicity of the first Adam but that is this is no longer relevant for us…because we are only interested in the function of Adam as a ‘teaching model’ why should we…not take the same view regarding the last Adam?

Versteeg brings up an interesting point regarding the guilt of man if we deny a historical Adam. Christians have held that sin entered the world because our representative head, Adam, chose to eat of the fruit in the garden. In Adam, we all sinned. There has been debate about how this works itself out, but the basic structure is essential to Christian orthodoxy. What happens when there is no historical Adam (and Eve) to sin? Here is what Versteeg says:

If Adam only lets us see what is characteristic of everyone because Adam is man in general so that the sin of Adam is also the sin of man in general, and if on the the other hand Adam may no longer be regarded as the one man through whom sin has come into the world, it is apparent that in a certain sense sin belongs to man as such. Sin thus has become a given “next to” creation…In Romans 5 Paul intends to say how sin has invaded the good creation of God. The concept “teaching model” cannot do justice to [Romans 5]. If Adam were only a teaching model, he would only be an illustration of man in whom sin is inherent. The concept “teaching model” eliminates the “one after the other” of creation and fall, and leaves only room for the “next to each other” of creation and sin. In essence, then, one may no longer speak of the guilt of sin…Where evil thus becomes a “practically unavoidable” matter, sin loses its character of guilt. 

I had not thought of the historicity of Adam from this angle before. Normally, I think of Adam in reference to Christ and salvation, not man and sin. But of course, these cannot be separated. If we mess with Adam, we mess with Christ, sin, redemption, man, and—as Richard Gaffin argues in his foreword—the resurrection, in the process. Where do sin and guilt come from if there was no Adam? Have they always been? Is sin inherent in man? Did God create man sinful? How can man be guilty if sin has always been? If sin has not always been, when did it enter? Who/what brought it in? 

I am convinced that a denial of a historical Adam leads naturally and logically to heresy. As Versteeg says:

To be occupied with the question of how Scripture speaks about Adam is thus anything but an insignificant problem of detail. As the first historical man and head of humanity, Adam is not mentioned merely in passing in the New Testament. The redemptive historical correlation between Adam and Christ determines the framework in which—particularly for Paul—the redemptive work of Christ has its place. That work of redemption can no longer be confessed according to the meaning of Scripture, if it is divorced form the framework in which it stands there.

Not all who deny the historical Adam become or are heretics, but given their framework, there is no reason they couldn’t be. To capitulate here is to begin unraveling the basics of Christian orthodoxy, and most importantly, to strip away the glory of Christ’s work in redeeming fallen man.

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By In Culture

Art in the Shadows

My fellow Kuyperian contributor, Dustin Messer, recently wrote some worthwhile reflections on David Skeel’s book True Paradox. Explaining Skeel’s take on art, Messer notes that in the Christian worldview, art must tell the truth about the world by witnessing to its entire story: creation, fall, and redemption:

“This story of creation, fall, and redemption permeates the Scriptures, and because the Scriptures tell the true story of this world, it permeates our experience as well. Thus, for art to be affirmed by the Christian worldview, it of course can—and must—touch on these themes. Granted, each and every piece of art won’t include each and every theme each and every time. A work which reflects the pain and depravity of creation is no less true than the work which points to the world’s inherent dignity and goodness, or a work which alludes to the balm and remedy brought by Christ, for that matter.”

Unfortunately, modern Christian forays into art seldom aspire beyond portraying the happy aspects of life in the world. Christians often treat art as something that exists only in the sphere of redemption—a discipline dealing only with the aesthetically pleasant. Rather than engaging the world, art functions as sanctified entertainment, leaving unexplored vast areas of human life. The full story of the fall is left untold—it may as well never have happened.

But the wonder of redemption is unintelligible apart from the horror of the fall. The reality of the fall is a truth no less than the new creation. Thus, if Christians are to tell the true story of the world, our involvement with art (whether as creators or audiences) cannot be limited to the brightness of redemption, but should entail confrontation with the darkness of the fall. Scripture certainly does not shy away from revealing the harrowing extent of the fall and its effects on all of creation.

A classic example of this is J. S. Bach’s masterpiece oratorio, St. Matthew’s Passion, whose final chorus is a lamentation on the death of Christ, entitled, “We Sit Down in Tears.” The Passion does not end with the resurrection, and so leaves the listener unsettled. Bach understood that profound art contains truth and tension, and even with a sacred work, he did not feel the need to append a happy ending so his audience would leave with good vibes. By concluding his piece with the burial of Christ (and dealing with the resurrection in a separate work), Bach enables listeners to feel the weight of sin and death and more fully identify with the sadness and despair experienced by Christ’s disciples.

For Christians, depicting the brokenness of creation is not lapse into nihilism, but rather a truthful, even hopeful, artistic endeavor. Simply acknowledging the reality of the fall presupposes that the world was created good, but that things are not now as they should be. Attesting to the darkness in the world can also illustrate the pervasive extent of the fall, narrate the misery and consequences of sin, expose injustice, point to the necessity of redemption, and accent the incompleteness of restoration until the life of the world to come.

Such a perspective ought to open up new vistas for Christian artistic endeavors and encounters. Life on this side of the new heavens and new earth will always partake of unresolved tension, and so artistic engagement with the fall will always be appropriate. Works of art presenting the depths of the fall can witness to the truth as much as works that are explicitly redemptive.

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By In Culture

The Transcendent Source of Beauty and Art

“But if you confess that the world was once beautiful, but by the curse has become undone, and by a final catastrophe is to pass to its full state of glory, excelling even the beauty of paradise, then art has the mystical task of reminding us in its production of the beauty that was lost and of anticipating its perfect coming luster.” -Abraham Kuyper

In his book True Paradox, David Skeel makes the point that beauty—especially that beauty which is seen in art—is the result of tension, of one kind or another. Obviously, the kind of tension that typically comes to mind is that between good and bad, right and wrong. Christianity gives a full throated voice to this tension. While the world was created good, it is fallen—which is to say it’s both broken and rebellious—but Christ has come to restore and redeem creation. In other words, Christ has come to resolve this tension.

This story of creation, fall, and redemption permeates the Scriptures, and because the Scriptures tell the true story of this world, it permeates our experience as well. Thus, for art to be affirmed by the Christian worldview, it of course can—and must—touch on these themes. Granted, each and every piece of art won’t include each and every theme each and every time. A work which reflects the pain and depravity of creation is no less true than the work which points to the world’s inherent dignity and goodness, or a work which alludes to the balm and remedy brought by Christ, for that matter.

The fact that beauty is a result of tension—and the tension between good and evil is resolvable—poses an interesting and important question vis-à-vis the Christian aesthetic; namely, “is beauty eternal?” The answer to this question is more complex than one might first expect. To begin with, the tension between “good” and “bad” is contingent upon evil—which is finite. Obviously, before the fall and after the second coming of Christ, there is no such tension. This tension has a beginning (Gen 3) and an end (Rev 21).

Now, at least the three Abrahamic religions (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam) agree on this point: evil is not eternal—it has a beginning and an end. This tension, most of us agree, will be resolved. However, the Christian faith has a unique claim on beauty specifically. Before the fall, indeed before creation, God lived in perfect love, peace, joy, and relationship. The Father, the Son, and the Spirit were one yet three. Were God only one—were He a mono-personal being—there would be no tension in eternity past, let alone in the perfect world to come.

However, as we know, God is not such a being. While we can, without reservation, affirm the “oneness” of God’s essence, we can also, without reservation, affirm the various personalities of the Trinity. This tension—between Father, Son, and Spirit—is irresolvable. It is the governing reality of the cosmos. Of course, this reality is why we can say that love is eternal. There has always been “love,” a “lover,” and a “beloved.” However, this is also why Christians can say beauty is eternal. Before the creation of the world, God was not stagnant. He was in a complex and textured relationship with His Trinitarian Self.  Tension is eternal, in other words, because of the eternality of the Trinity.

As Trinitarians, Skeel argues, we can heartily acknowledge that there are more tensions in the world than those between “good” and “bad.” As a result, when we look at a truly beautiful painting, we appreciate the tension; not only between right and wrong, but also between colors, shades, fabrics, etc. These tensions—those which exist apart from sin—allude to the complexity found in the Godhead. Perhaps this is why a given piece of art can have such a transcendent effect on the viewer. In viewing beauty—as with experiencing love—the viewer is coming in contact with something that lacks a beginning and an end. At its best, this is what art does. Art makes us worship—not the object, but the reality which lies beyond the object, the Triune God of the universe.

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