If you haven’t read the previous post, you might find it a helpful introduction to this one.
Words work because they materialize in the visible world. Assuming we know the word, we can’t detach it from its meaning. The word represents something, either visible or invisible, and we know the meaning by the word that identifies it. God made the world this way. He made the world out of words so that the world is a visible word. And this is why metaphor works. A metaphor identifies something distinct from and yet fully identified with something else. Words themselves are metaphors because the word isn’t the material thing, but when we think of the material thing, we want to know its name.
Preachers need to know this because we deal in words. We use words to communicate God’s truth, conveying our message with words. The gospel is good news, which means the gospel is words. We ought to know the power of words to effectively communicate God’s truth.
In the previous post, we offered three treasures found in words. Here, we’ll offer two more.
Treasure #4: Poetry communicates more clearly than science.
From something less true, we can learn more truth. [1]
God is immutable.
I’ll pause while you look that up. Actually, no, I won’t. We’re all preachers reading this, so we know what immutable means. Hopefully, we have taught our churches to understand and honor the immutability of God. If we have, we know that the Bible doesn’t spend much time on the topic. Hebrews 6:18 provides the singular appearance of this amazing word. If we want our people to know what it means that God is immutable, we might find it helpful to use a more familiar yet equally Biblical expression, perhaps like this:
But the LORD is my defence; and my God is the rock of my refuge. (Psalm 94:22)
The Bible tells us that God is a rock at least twenty times. Think about that. If you demand scientific accuracy for every expression, the Bible must disappoint you terribly. If I were to ask you to explain the similarities between God and a rock, you might struggle a bit. As you take your kids hiking, how often have you pointed at a rock and said, “See that, kids! God is just like that!”
But you could. You should, in fact. God identifies Himself that way. If I’m honest, I can only think of one or two qualities of a rock that resemble God – a rock is unchangeable; a great big rock is nearly immovable. But the Bible says, “God is a rock.” Not that He is every way like a rock or a rock is every way like God. But a rock depicts God’s immutability in a way we can grasp, in a way that the word “immutable” doesn’t.
If you want your kids to know that God is immutable, tell them that God is a rock. A child can grasp that.
But that isn’t true for kids only. Think of the way science expresses truth compared to poetry. Science always wants to quantify things, usually with a number. On a scale of 1-to-10, how much pain are you feeling? A 55-year-old gets a senior discount. And on a cold day, temperatures might dip into the teens or even below zero.
Now, of course, this scientific mode of expression has become familiar enough to us that we know the lingo. We may have never considered how inane the idea of “zero” degrees of temperature might be. We might wish we could store a few degrees when it is 100 outside and pull them out of the pantry when it is zero. But what about below zero? What does that even mean? If my bank balance gets below zero, I’m in trouble. Does that mean we’re in trouble when temperatures get below zero? Do they owe us something they need to repay?
The scientific or “analytical” paradigm takes itself very seriously and sometimes acts as if accuracy is more important than clarity. But the Bible doesn’t rely on the analytical paradigm as often as we might think. The Bible is much more likely to describe God as a fire, Jesus as bread or light or water, the Bible as a sword, and a contentious woman as a continual dripping on a very rainy day. The Bible doesn’t get all that technical. In fact, the scientific way of saying things is more precise and accurate, but also more abstract. If you don’t believe me, draw me a picture of a degree. Not just one – draw me fifty of them huddled together in the air surrounding your house on a warm spring afternoon. Show me what a degree looks like, and we’ll discuss how great scientific expression really is. And tell me which expression makes it more apparent that Tom Bombadil is quite old – if I tell you his age in years or if I quote Tolkien:
There’s earth under his old feet, and clay on his fingers; wisdom in his bones, and both his eyes are open.
The poetic way of saying things (imprecise but more concrete) is often the Bible way of saying things.
A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pictures of silver. (Proverbs 25:11)
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. (I Corinthians 13:1-3)
And the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell. (James 3:6)
The Bible speaks this way for a simple reason: we understand it better. The concrete images used in poetic speech aren’t always the most accurate, but they express the idea in a way our minds can grasp.
How should this affect our preaching? We should recognize first that theology, like any science, uses a fair amount of jargon that the noninitiates might not recognize. You can speak of “getting saved,” the “atonement,” “justification,” “sanctification,” and the “vicarious” suffering of Christ all day long. Half your audience will have no idea what you mean.
Continue reading “Preaching, Poetry, and the Power of Analogy”
