The Intangibles of Faith

The Trinity is a concept that would be best described as a mystery of faith.  It is not a doctrine spelled out in Scripture, though it is a doctrine the church has agreed is a binding one.  The word trinity itself does not occur in the Bible at all, and there are only glimpses of it as a concept in the Bible itself. 

It is, however, a central tenant of our faith.  Yet it remains a mystery and, as a mystery, an intangible. 

And intangibility is a hallmark of religion.  Intangible, incorporeal, ethereal, spiritual.  That which cannot be defined, held on to, or even seen.  Intangible.  Perhaps that’s why the church is losing ground – there is no gadget, no app, no hook, no gimmick, no thing.

Worship has to be that which becomes the vehicle for experiencing the intangible.  Community has to be that which becomes the vehicle for experiencing the intangible.

And much of that community and worship is built on other intangibles – greater intangibles, greater mysteries.

For example, to speak of justification by faith in the eyes of God, to speak of love poured out by the presence of the Holy Spirit…these are intangibles.  Ideals, yes, but ideas primarily.  Ideas given form through words that seek to convey that which we cannot see, beliefs that we cannot know in the presence of God which we cannot describe.

To talk of theology or of philosophy or of Christology is to speak in specifics regarding abstractions.  It is as if we seek to measure the distance between objects in a dream after we awake.  The parameters of the dream baffle the strictures of an awakened mind and yet it is the same mind in which the dream was conceived. 

To speak of the Trinity is to speak of a concept that, while never specifically occurring in the Bible, bespeaks of an attempt of the early church to put definition to an idea that, like trying to hold a cloud, can never adequately work.  And yet in the attempt to try we find an act of devotion.

To not speak about God or not to try to speak about God is to fail to appreciate God.  Striving for definition is human nature.  Recognizing that which is beyond our language and understanding pushes us to develop clarity of language, a deeper understanding, as well as an increased respect for that whose presence is awe-inspiring.  The concept of the Trinity, flawed or accurate or a combination of both, is to view the theological anthropology of the Christian faith. 

To say that our faith in Christ somehow mitigates whatever ills have befallen our souls before God is an action of the language of faith – giving description and definition to an intangible state of which we cannot physically witness, and to which there is no paperwork.

Instead, these words are affirmations of faith, affirmations of belief, and an affirmation that both faith and belief have consequences in life and in life on plains of existence we can now only fathom as we do our own dreams.

We clam and affirm that we find peace with God through a mediated relationship proctored by a man, but more than a man, who existed 2000 years ago.  Something in and of his existence still reverberates across time to have bearing upon that divine spark of existence within us that we call our soul.

We claim that whatever state in which our souls existed, Christ, like the twilight state between waking and sleep, moves between us and God and works to create something new, or at least bring about a transformative option to which we may give our ascent.  From that we find ourselves in a new relationship with God and, it might be argued, with ourselves and those around us.

Perhaps there are the truly visible, truly tangible aspects of our faith such as the transformation of the self, of the individual, even the transformation of the community.  Here is the practical to the mystical, the visible to the invisible.  That which cannot be seen is made manifest in our hearts which leads to a different kind of life.  So that which cannot be seen taking place with our souls is seen reflected in our lives.

And yet it remains something of a mystery.  How does the nature of our soul affect the immediacy of human physicality and existence?  How are we sure that, for example, Paul’s description of a metaphysical reality in Romans 5:1-5 is factual or legitimate?  Where does our soul reside and what is it if we are not consciously aware of it?

Perhaps the answer is not to be found in words.  Perhaps the answer is musical.

I say that from a place of deep love and wonder at the mystery that is music.  Music is a gift from God.  Martin Luther once wrote, “Music is the art of the prophets.”  For those who aren’t musicians, though, talking about music can be confusing if not confounding, because describing music is no small task.  Try to describe a sound.  Perhaps you can sing it, hum it, or even pronounce the rhythm of a piece, but you can never actually describe music.

And to try to describe music and how or why a piece of music elicits emotion usually leads to long, awkward pauses that end in phrases like, “I don’t know what it is, but I am moved by it.”

The philosopher Thomas Carlyle once wrote, “Who is there that, in logical words, can express the effect music has on us?  A kind of inarticulate, unfathomable speech, which leads us to the edge of the infinite, and lets us for moments gaze into that!”

We are moved by music.  It speaks where words cannot, hence the difficulty in describing it.  It exists, but it is a mystery, and thanks be to God for it.  It is an intangible, as is the mystery of the Trinity and the conceptualizations of God.

We gather in places of worship to surround ourselves with that which we cannot see.  Yet, like music, the mystery surrounds us, reverberates, and echoes within and around us.  It is that same faith which resonates on and on.

And here is the final observation.  The mysteries of faith are degraded and devalued if they are whittled down to tangible facts or objects to which we can pick up or put down.  Instead the church should remind us that we speak of mysteries and instead of problems to be solved; these mysteries are intended to be objects of contemplation.  They are that which allow us to glimpse truths beyond that which we think we know.  And there is where we find that intangible mystery that is the presence of God.