Graven Images

Martin Luther taught that anything we trust, other than God, can become an idol. Anything.

In that case, we are all guilty.

I've been asking myself this question: Is it possible to be guilty of idolatry in the very act of believing in God? I suppose this seems ridiculous, so bear with me. God is beyond understanding, yet we tend to think we understand. That's a problem. We don't trust God nearly so much as we do our own perception of God.

We have a long history of doing terrible things, because we believe God agrees with our beliefs: if you disagree with me, you disagree with God and deserve his wrath. And I am all too willing to execute the judgment you obviously deserve. This has been the MO of too many religious leaders and their followers.

We are more tame (I hope) than some of our ancestors, who marched on crusades, burned witches, and tortured heretics. But there seems to be a growing intolerance of others in general, and of religious others in particular.

The title of a book by Peter Enns sounds right to me: The Sin of Certainty. Maybe I don't even need to read the book. Maybe the title is enough. The subtitle is: Why God Desires Our Trust More Than Our "Correct Beliefs."

If we are guilty of idolatry when we trust our own perspective of God, what else have we got? Perhaps worse is trusting someone else's view of God.

It's not that we shouldn't trust God. It's that whatever our perspective of God is, it's inadequate, a small bit of the truth at best. Trusting God includes a lot of wonder and, frankly, a lot of not knowing.

Listening to prominent Christians fawn over a man who makes no bones about idolizing himself has forced me to ask whether beliefs can be idols. Not only do these people defend the man, they are certain that he is to be admired. God is on his side and theirs. God sent him—and them—to judge evildoers.

I believe I should remain open to the possibility (however slim) that they are right. But I won't trust their judgment on the matter. They are too certain of themselves. They are too quick to condemn. If only they had the grace of Job's friends, who demonstrated their concern for their friend by sitting with him in silence for an entire week.

When Job's three friends did start talking, they warned Job with the best of intentions and the best theology of the day. Job argued with them, and they impressed upon him just how God does things. After all of their sermons and arguments, God finally weighs in. We are hoping for a clear answer, but there is none. Instead, Job is chided for expecting to understand God, and his friends earn God's wrath for claiming to.

While the term idolatry has been expanded on (for example, in the book Playing God, by Andy Crouch) it didn't occur to me to think of graven images as anything other than carved piece of wood or chiseled stone or molded metal—fulfilling quaint and old-fashioned notions of divine protection. We, of course, have moved beyond such silly superstitions.

Maybe not. If we don't understand that our images of God are necessarily inaccurate, we risk trusting little more than graven images.