Simplicity and Analogy: How We Talk About God

When you look up at the starlit sky and ponder the vastness and beauty of the heavens above and the diversity and unity of the earth below, your thoughts are moved to the God who created such marvelous things. If the universe is so unfathomably expansive and so indescribably beautiful, what is the nature of the God who created it? What is God like, the one who exceeds the greatness and grandeur of the world we inhabit? When we begin to ask these questions, we quickly acknowledge that we are finite creatures contemplating the infinite God. Though we are finite creatures, the one true and infinite God has revealed himself to us in the world he has made and even more clearly in the word he has caused to be written. World and word together (natural and supernatural theology) teach the glory and majesty of our God.
Simplicity
God has revealed himself to his creatures as the God who is simple. At first glance, to say that God is simple sounds counterintuitive. The great and glorious God is simple? The Creator of the complexity of the cosmos is simple? Yes, because by the simplicity of God we mean that there is no composition in God. God is not made up of parts, or any form of composition whatsoever. God’s simplicity is fundamental to a true understanding of him.
We gather divine simplicity from Scripture, in three principal places. The first is God’s self-revelation of his most sacred name, “I am that I am” (Exodus 3:14). God reveals his name as the one who is. He is his own existence. God is being itself subsisting. The one who is, who is his own being, indeed who is pure being itself subsisting, cannot possibly be a composite being. Therefore, we say he is simple. God is pure simple being itself.
World and word together teach the glory and majesty of our God.
The second is Jesus’ statement that “God is spirit” (John 4:24). Angels are spirits, but they are created spirits. They are composed of the possibility to be, and God making them to be. God is spirit, but not like the angels. He is not a being that has been brought into being. God is pure simple being itself.
The third is Paul’s doxology, “For from him and through him and to him are all things” (Romans 11:36). For all things to be from, through, and to God, there can be nothing before God. But all things composed have a composer. All things with parts have been put together. If all things are from, through, and to God, he must be pure simple being itself, without any composition or cause preceding his being. God cannot be reduced to more fundamental parts. Because his is not composed, he cannot be decomposed. God is pure simple being itself.
If one were to respond that God’s being is “necessarily composite,” or that God is “necessary complexity,” but without a composer, not only is this a self-contradicting proposal when investigated, but also it would follow that there may be necessarily composite beings other than the one we know as God. Divine simplicity protects the uniqueness and singularity of God because he, and he alone, is pure being itself. The one who is, pure and simple being, gives existence to all things. From the infinite fullness of his perfect simple being, God has given them that most fundamental of compositions, to be brought from possibility of being into actual being and made “according to their kind.”
Analogy
God’s simplicity reminds us, once more, of the vast and inviolable distinction between the Creator and his creatures. We must confess that our words and thoughts of God fall short of reaching the height or finding the depth of his majesty.
Can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty? (Job 11:7)
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it (Psalm 139:6).
How can we speak of such a sublime God? As we form our understanding and speech of God from both the world and the word, we must do so in a way that keeps the infinity of God and the finitude of creatures in place. We must think and speak of God in a way that is fitting with his infinite being as God, and to think and speak of creatures in a way that is fitting with their finite being as creatures. When we do this, we are using analogy or analogical speech. In this context, to use analogy, or analogical speech, is to attribute something to God according to his being, and the same thing to man (if at all fitting) according to his being.
So, for example, to speak analogically is to say, “God is good,” and, “John is good,” but to understand that because of divine simplicity God is the goodness by which he is good, whereas John is good only insofar as he reflects God’s goodness. The difference between goodness in God and John is not merely one of quantity (more or less), but of being itself. God’s goodness is his own simple being—essential, infinite, eternal, immutable, and perfect. John’s goodness is a quality, something extrinsic to himself in which he participates proportional to his being, capable of increase or decrease. To speak of goodness according to God’s being, and according to man’s being is to use analogy.
We must think and speak of God in a way that is fitting with his infinite being as God, and to think and speak of creatures in a way that is fitting with their finite being as creatures.
To give another example, consider the difference between fire, and being fired up, or between heat and being heated up. It is of the nature of fire to be hot. Other things can receive heat from fire, but when the source of heat is removed, they lose that heat. When I eat lunch, I sit under a pergola with a metal roof. The roof heats with the midday sun, creaking as its temperature rises, but when a cloud covers the sun the roof immediately begins to creak oppositely as it cools down. It is not of the nature of metal roofs to be hot, so it heats and cools insofar as it participates in the heat of the sun. We attribute heat to fire, or to the sun, in a way that fits the nature of the thing, and so also with metal roofs, or anything that is heated or fired. For one, it is the nature of the thing to be hot. For another, it only participates in heat, or becomes hot, as it is exposed to that which is heat.
This example may be illustrative, but it falls short because the sun, so scientists say, will eventually burn out, and fires can be extinguished. The sun can increase or decrease in a number of ways, as can fire, but God is all that he is infinitely, eternally, perfectly, and immutably, like a celestial flame that is an infinite fuel unto itself. Despite the shortcomings of the example, it illustrates the point that in all our thoughts of God, we must think analogically, that is, according to the being of the thing of which we are speaking. Though we speak of God in the language of men, we must do so in a way that acknowledges and preserves his being as God.
This applies to how we read the Bible. God condescends to speak to us in human language in the written word, and we must recognize this to be an accommodation to our capacities as creatures. We must read the Bible in a way that keeps God’s infinite being in mind. So, for example, the idea of “regret” or “repentance” is inconsistent with the perfection and immutability of God, and yet the Bible attributes these to God in various places. At the same time, the Bible denies that God regrets or repents.
God is not man, that he should lie, or a son of man, that he should change his mind (Numbers 23:19).
The Glory of Israel will not lie or have regret, for he is not a man, that he should have regret (1 Samuel 15:29).
What is the solution to these apparently opposite statements? It is analogy, which God himself teaches us when his word says, “God is not man.” This means that repentance must be attributed to God in some way that is fitting with his being as God. This we can do, by recognizing that the God who decreed all things immutably, whatsoever comes to pass, decreed to make Saul king, to permit his demise, and to remove and replace him with David. All of this was decreed by the unchanging eternal God, without remorse, regret, or a change of mind. However, from the human perspective it appears as a complete reversal of plan and action, which is precisely what repentance is.
Repentance is borrowed from human speech to communicate the providential reversal of events within God’s unfolding plan, and therefore when we attribute it to God we must remember that God is not a man. If we forget this, we will bring God down to the level of the human language he has used to communicate with us. The point to be grasped is that the world and word teach us of the greatness of God, and we must think and speak of him analogically, that is, in a way that is fitting with his being.
The One Who Is, the great I AM,
Exceeds the meager mind of man.
As creatures, all we say or know
Of God above comes from below,
Because the things that he has made
With his own likeness are inlaid.
Behind our thoughts, Beyond our reach,
God, in kindness, speaks our speech.
But he remains transcendent still.
He always has, and always will.