Sitting on the throne, he said, “I make all things new!”
When I recently passed this passage from the Apocalypse, I was reminded of the scene of the capture of the movie Passion of Christ in which Jesus, bleeding, humiliated and exhausted, collapsed under the weight of his cross on his way to the crucifixion. As the tearful Maria rushes in dismay to help her son, Jesus looks at her and says: “Look, mother? I am making all things new”. for no scripture makes such an exchange. Nevertheless, the scene has stuck with me for years, although I never knew why until I read in the book of Revelation and began to think more about how powerful it is that “I make all things new”. He cannot make new ones. He can make something new, but he cannot take away something existing and make something new. What is worse, every new man immediately creates his newness.
It is not so with God. It can be something existing, say an imperfect father of two of 26 years and make it new. Not only can he, but he wants to. Rather, novelty will never fail.
This idea confuses the mind, but it should lead to great comfort. It reminds me of something I once read in an article about man’s inability to understand the nature of God:
“There are none like God. Of whom we know nothing, there is nothing like God in any way. The language categorically does not reach the divine.”*
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I admit that I was confused by this at first. As a long-time student of life and an avid consumer of literature, I have appreciated the great power of language. I have always believed that, through some combination of exquisite words, even the most abstract thought can be successfully transferred.
But the author of the article is correct. When it comes to understanding God, our language is insufficient; so that it is said in the Apocalypse, that everything is new, I do not really feel. Besides, I can’t really understand much about God that I once thought I could. I do not know what omnipotence or omnipotence really entails. I don’t know what “holy” is. I know what it means, but I have never understood what “holiness” is in the same way that I understand “bliss” or “solitude”. Of course, this is not a new problem. We have struggled to make sense of God since the fall. It was important to me that one, another reminder of the righteous, how far I would be from God, were it not for his love and mercy; and two, because, as I have said, at first it was very indiscreet to perceive how little I knew of God. Why, language itself does not come close to describing God in any way to describe him accurately! . My eyes soon fell on Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and see that I am God.” I have noticed that I am very glad that I do not understand the nature of God as clearly as I understand others. If I could, God would be of no use to me. His nature would be vicious, and he could deliver me from my sin a little more than anyone else.
Bringing the idea of God’s love up to my grasp immediately diminishes the power of that love. I have two children. Shall I condemn one of them to a terrible death, except he who has sinned against me? Most importantly, no! But God did. What more should I do about his decision? And what do I, the author, feel I owe to such an understanding?
God owes me nothing, yet He has given me everything. What more would I like? His advice is simply to take it and take comfort in it, which is God. There is a power beyond my understanding and, thus, only capable of my wretched condition, which alone can make me new.
*Alan Mittleman, “The Wrong Question,” First Things, January 2009 , 16.
