Living in the Tension: Embracing the Paradoxes of Scripture

The Bible Is Full of Paradoxes….

Jesus offers us his light and easy yoke (Matthew 11:28), yet also demands that we take up our cross (Matthew 16:24).

Paul says God’s grace is sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9), yet Jesus tells us to be perfect as he is perfect (Matthew 5:48).

No one can snatch us from his hands (John 10:28), yet we are warned that we could be disqualified and lose our inheritance (1 Corinthians 9:27; Galatians 5:21).

Blessed are the peacemakers (Matthew 5:9), yet the gospel comes with a sword that turns family members against one another (Matthew 10:34).

Grace is free (Ephesians 2:8), but it costs us everything (Luke 14:33).

Justification is by faith (Romans 3:28), but the holy sacrament of water baptism is essential for salvation (1 Peter 3:21). 

Women are told to be quiet in church (1 Timothy 2:11), yet they are also prophetesses (1 Corinthians 11:5), deacons (Romans 16:1), teachers of men (Acts 18:24), and house church leaders (Colossians 4:15).

Arguing our way through these verses has not proven fruitful. Too often it turns us into people who weaponize scripture and proof-text to defend our preferred interpretation. And yet, how we interpret certain passages shapes how we do church, how we live our lives, and how we view those who practice differently. These are not small things, so I understand the urgency to defend what we see as Truth. Still, there is danger in this kind of thinking. One only has to look at the Western Church today to see that we are fractured institutions, losing people at accelerated rates. People are longing for something deeper, more meaningful, and the Church as we know it does not seem to be filling that need for them.

I believe the way we have historically interpreted scripture has reinforced the idea that there is always a right way and a wrong way, a good way and a bad way, an either/or. But what if there is another way forward?

What if Truth is sometimes found in the in-between? I am not talking about relativism here. I am talking about embracing these seemingly contradictory ideas as the paradoxes they are, and trusting that Truth will reveal itself in due time.

G.K. Chesterton once said that a paradox is Truth standing on her head to get attention. There is something about holding two opposing truths that forces us into the tension of struggle. Instead of being willing to remain perplexed, we often rush to land on the “right” answer—because then we no longer have to face the possibility of being wrong.

But what if, instead of digging in our heels, we tilted our heads toward the Truth standing on its head? What if we became more open, more curious, more courageous—asking God to reveal himself even if it challenges our understanding?

I believe these paradoxes are Jesus’ clever invitation for us to stretch under the weight of tension. Just as a muscle requires pressure to grow stronger, so too are we invited to be both burdened and relieved through the living word of God at work in our bodies.

The Pharisees knew the truth so well that they had built their entire lives around the laws and traditions of their forefathers. Yet when Truth himself showed up in the person of Jesus Christ, they could not detach themselves from what they “knew to be true.” They missed all that Jesus had to offer: love, healing, beauty, transcendence, and the fulfillment of everything they had ever hoped for.

They were God’s chosen ones, set apart, but they could not yield to Truth when it came in a way they could not understand. The very word, “understand”, means to be willing to stand under something—even when it sounds far-fetched or crazy at first. The truth of the matter is that Jesus sounded so blasphemous that it automatically caused them to shut off. Their danger flags went up and they went into defensive mode. 

Can you blame them? Their entire way of life was at stake. How could they abandon the identity they had spent a lifetime building? Who was this crazy man claiming he would tear down their holy temple and rebuild it in three days? They were so focused on defending their truth that they missed the deeper meaning of Jesus’ words. What if their defensiveness had yielded to a willingness to be perplexed, where would that have led them?  

I’ve often wondered why some of Jesus’ words were so brash and exaggerated. Perhaps if he had softened his words a little, then maybe the religious people would have been more open. It’s hard to win over a crowd of suspicious holy men with words like the following: 

• “If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out.”

• “Sell all your possessions and follow me.”

• “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven.”

• “Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye and ignore the plank in your own?” 

• You brood of vipers! White-washed tombs!

  
  

Perhaps in his divine knowing, Jesus understood that we would need to be shocked out of our self-constructed patterns. He seems to be most offensive to those who thought they had all the answers and most compassionate to those who knew they had none. Are these strong words true for me today? Am I willing to have Jesus’ razor-sharp words tear down my white-washed constructs of religion? Do I trust him solely to rebuild? 

We encounter answers by reading the Word (Romans 10:17). But those answers deepen as they plant themselves in the heart of the sojourner—revealing images, feelings, visions, and sometimes turning answers back into questions. Just think of Peter’s vision in Acts 10 when he was instructed to take and eat animals that had been explicitly forbidden by God himself. Imagine his confusion! Yet, with a knock at his door, a universal call of salvation was unfolding before his eyes, a vision that slowly manifested itself and one to which he struggled to conform (Galatians 2:11-14). Where in the sacred scriptures did Peter miss this offensive message that salvation was also for the Gentiles? I can only imagine how deeply he must have wrestled with this seeming contradiction. It wasn’t scripture that landed him on this revolutionary path–it was a vision and the substantiation of that vision through the actions of other unsuspecting collaborators. (But it had been under his nose for so long! Jesus showed him the way by continuing to break cultural and traditional barriers during his ministry.)

I am learning to have a willingness to be perplexed even when I feel like I am on the verge of heresy. It feels like a dangerous place sometimes, but I continue to ask Jesus to tear down my temple and wait for him to rebuild. Perhaps this place should feel dangerous, a place where I claim my vulnerability and strength as I leave behind the temple that made me feel safe. I remind myself that taking up my cross and setting my face towards Jerusalem should never feel safe because it isn’t. 

The gospel message is simple and accessible to all. Yet it is also deeper and more mysterious than most of us will allow ourselves to experience. It is freeing and refreshing while at the same time asking me to risk more than I think I am able to risk. It demands my time, and attention; in essence, my heart. Many refuse to step into the tension of biblical paradoxes, not just because they fear losing salvation, but because they fear losing themselves. What becomes of them if the Truth as they know it seems to be transforming before their eyes? What if it isn’t something to be pinned down, but something that must be perpetually sought after?  

Perhaps those of us who think we have most of the answers might do better if we admit that we don’t. Perhaps it is this vulnerability and openness that people are hungering for. Peter learned this firsthand when the unexpected knocked on his door and demanded that he embrace what he thought was the impossible: that the Holy Spirit would be poured over a people he considered unclean and unworthy. 

Dear God, let me not be the one that keeps people from experiencing you because I think I have all the answers. Let my love, and not my scant knowing, be the thing that draws them to you. 

What are the temples in your life that need to be torn down? What would it look like to experience the tension of scriptural paradox? What if you gave yourself permission to be free from the need to be right? Maybe, just maybe, this experience might bring an unexpected knock at your door. A knock asking you to open your heart to a life-altering outcome you never saw coming, but one that brings life to more people than you ever dreamed about…starting with yourself.