Thursday, November 6, 2008

"It's really hard to have your categories exploded."

The above statement was made by the professor during my Theology of Christ class today. We were discussing the Arian heresy and how Arius had all these categories he was trying to impose on the Trinity. The Son was either from the Father and thus a part of the Father, or He was from nothing. The Father either actively willed the Son's existence or He was forced to beget the Son against His will. In order to preserve these categories Arius had to say that the Son was made from nothing and that before He was begotten, He was not. (Two statements with which Bishop Alexander of Alexandria took issue.)

Christ explodes all human categories. If I skimmed through my copy of Jesus of Nazareth I could give you a few examples of how he exploded the Jews' categories. When they thought of the Messiah they had certain boundaries deliniating what a Messiah was, and then Christ came along and blew those ideas apart.

Lest this post become excessively long, however, I will give a couple of more personal anecdotes. One day over the summer, the Cobbler was visiting my house and during a conversation with me and my sister triumphantly proclaimed, "I am Scott, Destroyer of Boxes!" The other is from this past spring (early March to be exact), when I was pondering my relationship with the Cobbler and thinking, "Well, there are certain lines we'll never cross. For one, we've never had physical contact beyond shaking hands." A few days later he felt compelled to give me a hug, and did so. So much for that boundary. (I think it necessary to note that our relationship does have physical boundaries, but no hugging is definitely not one of them anymore.)

I'm starting to figure out that trying to fit the Cobbler into my carefully-drawn boundary lines is an exercise in futility. From the very first day I met him he's been destroying my preconceived ideas of how relationships ought to work, one by one. It hasn't been easy. I mightily resisted being friends with him; and the mental fuss I put up when I realized that I might be falling in love with him was something only the boundless patience of God could have dealt with (and He did, in His own time).

The Cobbler is the Destroyer of Boxes. It wasn't until class today that I realized I could just as easily apply that title to God. For over six years now He's been taking my preconceived notions of how God ought to work and obliterating them one by one, and I've been fighting Him every single step of the way.

So. Anybody want some discarded boxes?

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