Omnipotence: Part 1

God’s power is a blessing--and a problem.

If God were not so, we’d have to invent omnipotence and pin the attribute on him. We need a God of limitless power. 

We long for unparalleled divine power because we are only too aware of our unmitigated weakness. We cannot govern our world, let alone our lives. Even when we achieve good, we cannot do so without the bad leaking out all over the place. Think welfare—it alleviated grinding poverty, and it created a culture of dependency. Think warfare--even the most just wars shed innocent blood. In the one area over which we imagine we retain some sovereignty, our personal lives, control remains elusive: Even the most holy, as they are quick to confess, are plagued by ugly habits and compulsive narcissism.

Our weakness is so very weak, and we long for a power to heal us inside and out, for goodness to reach into the depths of our souls, for justice to rule to the ends of the earth. And we locate that power in God.

Power: “The ability or capacity to perform or act effectively… The ability or official capacity to exercise control; authority…. From Old French pooir, to be able, power, from Vulgar Latin ^*potre, to be able.” (American Heritage Dictionary, 2000 edition). That’s what we want--an able God.

Not coincidentally, the Bible reveals a God who is able.

From the opening words of Genesis—“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth” (Gen. 1:1 KJV) to the closing of the Book of Revelation--“the Lord God omnipotent reigneth” (Rev. 19:6 KJV), the Bible showcases a divine being who possesses unparalleled power.

This is the God who, without any materials to work with, fashions a universe. He destroys the pretensions of the haughty in Babel and creates life in the barren womb of Sarah. The biblical God is said to cause famines, instigate plagues, divide waters, and brutally destroy idolaters and armies. He demands obedience of his people, and when ignored, he raises up other nations who drag his people into exile—and then, when it is his good will, God ushers them back to their land.

This God does not strain nor sweat, but rather performs such majestic deeds as easily as humans talk. As the Psalmist put it, God “spoke and it came to be, he commanded, and it stood firm” (Ps. 33:9 ESV).  It is no wonder we find Jeremiah sensing God telling him, “Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh. Is anything too hard for me?” (Jer. 32:27).

Apparently not, for this God shows up in the New Testament as one who makes possible both virginal conception and miraculous resurrection. The birth of the God-man is accompanied by an army of angels, and the life of the God-man is characterized by healing the blind, curing the lame, casting out demons, and raising the dead.  

A Roman centurion, a man who understands power, grasps intuitively the nature of Jesus’ authority. When Jesus offers to walk to the man’s home and heal the centurion’s son, he refuses: 

Lord, do not trouble yourself, for I am not worthy to have you come under my roof. Therefore I did not presume to come to you. But say the word, and let my servant be healed. For I too am a man set under authority, with soldiers under me: and I say to one, “Go,” and he goes; and to another, “Come,” and he comes; and to my servant, “Do this,” and he does it. (Luke 6:7-8, ESV)

Jesus marveled at this, and told those standing nearby that “not even in Israel have I found such faith.” The centurion demonstrated faith in Jesus’ power.

We smile knowingly when we read that Jesus’ contemporaries looked for a political messiah, one who would usher in the kingdom with the sword. Yet for the longest time in Jesus’ ministry, it was an easy mistake to make. Jesus comes across as one who very much looks like God of Israel, whom, the prophet Isaiah said, “comes with might, and his arm rules for him, behold his reward is with him, and his recompense before him” (Is. 40:10 ESV). 

So it makes sense that when the early church wanted to sum up the faith in the Nicene Creed, it would revert to words that expressed God’s power and authority: “We believe in God the Father almighty….”

God’s almighty power is the cause of much awe and praise; it is also the cause of much lament—even in the Bible.  We didn’t have to wait for modern skeptics to note the problem. Many of these expressions of lament cannot be understood apart from a bedrock belief in God’s omnipotence. When injustice prevailed in his day, the prophet Habakkuk understandably cries out,

O Lord, how long shall I cry for help,
           and you will not hear?
     Or cry to you “Violence!”
          and you will not save?
      Why do you make me see iniquity,
          and why do you idly look at wrong?
     Destruction and violence are before me;
          strife and contention arise.
      So the law is paralyzed,
          and justice never goes forth.
     For the wicked surround the righteous;
        so justice goes forth perverted. (Hab. 1:2-4 ESV)

In short, where is almighty God when unlimited power is most needed?

In our own day we find this question dressed up in fresh garb: How can a good and all-powerful God allow so much evil? We of this generation do not presuppose God’s omnipotence, but we continue to long for it., We wonder: Is God not so powerful after all? Are we left alone to manage this mess?

We’re wondering, in other words, if God is really left-handed. 

When the biblical writers reach for a metaphor of divine power, they talk about God’s “right hand.” The Psalmist proclaims that the Lord will save his anointed “with the saving might of his right hand” (Ps. 20:5 ESV), and the author of Exodus says, “Your right hand, O Lord, glorious in power, your right hand, O Lord, shatters the enemy” (Ex 15:6 ESV).

While the New Testament gives us snap-shots of God’s right hand, we see another picture begin to emerge: evidence of God’s left hand. 

And it throws into question a fair amount of what we think we know about God’s power.  

More of this next week—and I mean next week, not in two weeks…. 

A Better Question
In the meantime, here is an article that wrestles fruitfully with the troubling aspect of God’s right hand.  The author knows whereof he speaks, as he is facing a life-threatening crisis himself.  But he is intent on moving forward, and he does so by pondering a more fruitful question: 

… when we go through trials and tough times, the tendency is to ask one key question: “Why?” It’s a big question, an understandable one to ask in difficult times. And I have no problem with people asking that question - or any other question like it. God is big enough. Even if he doesn’t answer it, he can handle it. Just look at the Psalms. Or Job. Or Jesus on the cross (“My God, my God, WHY have you abandoned me?”).

But I think there’s a bigger question to ask, one that I find more helpful in times of hurt: What? What do I do with this? What does faithfulness look like in THIS? 

Grace and peace,

Mark

---

Image: Sistene Chapel. God creating the moon and sun. Michelangelo.