4 Surprising Truths About God from a 17th-Century Thinker

 

Our modern understanding of God can sometimes feel a bit thin, polished down to simple affirmations and comforting platitudes. We often hold a version of the divine that fits neatly into our expectations. But what happens when we reach back in time and listen to the sharp, intricate theology of the past? Exploring the writings of a 17th-century thinker like Stephen Charnock can reveal surprisingly deep and counter-intuitive insights that challenge our most basic assumptions. Here are four startling truths from his work that push us beyond the Sunday school answers and into a more profound contemplation of God.

1. The Deep-Rooted Reason We Get Worship Wrong

Humans have a powerful, innate tendency to represent God in a physical, corporeal form. It is, as Charnock observes, "natural to man." We are creatures of sense, and we instinctively try to bring the divine down to a level we can see and touch.

A profound example of this is the story of the Israelites and their golden calf. The surprising detail often missed is that they weren't trying to invent a new god to worship. They were attempting to worship the true God, Jehovah, under a physical image they had created themselves. Aaron called the celebration a "feast to the Lord [Jehovah]." This impulse, Charnock argues, is timeless. The Egyptians worshipped an ox, and even in the Christian era, he points out, the "picture of God, in the shape of an old man, is visible in the temple of the Romanists."

This reveals a fundamental conflict at the heart of the human spiritual struggle: our inclination to rely on our senses is directly at odds with God's true nature as a pure Spirit. He cannot be captured in an image or localized in an object we create. True worship, therefore, must transcend the physical and be offered "in spirit and in truth."

they made a calf in Horeb, and changed their glory into a similitude of an ox that eateth grass: they changed their glory, that is, God, the glory of Israel; so that they took this figure for the image of the true God of Israel, their own God...

2. The Universe is Less Permanent Than You Think, But God is More Stable

We look to the cosmos—the heavens and the earth—as symbols of permanence. Yet, Charnock presents the counter-intuitive idea that even these seemingly eternal structures are destined to "perish."

This doesn't mean they will be annihilated or cease to exist. Rather, the term "perish" signifies a profound change in their qualities and appearance. The current frame of the universe will be dissolved and replaced with a new, more glorious one, much like a person takes off an old garment to receive a new one. The substance may remain, but its form and state will be utterly transformed.

This cosmic impermanence stands in stark contrast to God's absolute unchangeableness. God cannot change, not simply because He is already infinitely perfect, but because change itself is a logical impossibility for an eternal being. Change implies a "before" and "after," a sequence in time. For an eternal "I AM," however, such a sequence cannot exist. As Charnock reasons, "What is changed doth not remain, and what doth not remain is not eternal." While the universe will be altered, God remains immutably fixed in His own perfect being.

The dissolution of heaven and earth is meant by the word perish; the raising a new frame is signified by the word changed: as if the Spirit of God would prevent any wrong meaning of the word perish, by alleviating the sense of that, by another which signifies only a mutation and change; as when we change a habit and garment, we quit the old to receive the new.

3. God's Presence Isn't Stained by Our Messy Reality

The concept of God's omnipresence—His presence in all places at all times—can create a subtle reservation in the human mind. How can a perfectly pure God be present in impure, "nauseous" places? How can He be present in Hell itself without being diminished?

The answer lies in the distinction between a spiritual essence and physical reality. God's spiritual nature cannot be defiled by physical filth. His presence isn't a passive observation; it is the very power that actively sustains the essence of all things. Just as His power cannot be separated from His essence, His presence is the force that prevents even the foulest places from collapsing into nothingness. An angel's glory isn't stained by being in a coal mine, and likewise, God's purity is unaffected by the places He sustains.

The most powerful analogy for this abstract concept is that of a sunbeam. It shines upon the foulest swamp or the most fragrant, perfumed room, yet it is neither stained by the one nor sweetened by the other. Its light touches all things without mixing with them or being changed by them. So it is with the presence of God.

Whoever heard of a sunbeam stained by shining upon a quagmire, any more than sweetened by breaking into a perfumed room?

4. Your Wandering Mind During Prayer is a Timeless Struggle

For anyone who has tried to pray with focus, the experience of a wandering mind is frustratingly familiar. We sit down for a sacred moment only to have our thoughts skip to the office or some lingering anxiety. It’s easy to see this as a sign of modern distraction or personal spiritual failure.

But Charnock offers a comforting truth: this struggle is not new. He acknowledges that even in our most spiritual moments, we carry within us "a nest of turbulent thoughts, which, like busy gnats, will be buzzing about us." This is described not as a unique weakness, but as a natural human condition known even to the most faithful figures in history.

He cites the specific example of Abraham, whose solemn sacrifice was interrupted by fowls pecking at it—a symbol for how intrusive thoughts disturb our holiest duties. He adds another: the prophet Zechariah, who became "drowsy in the midst of his visions" and needed an angel to wake him. This ancient acknowledgment provides both solidarity and grace, reminding us that the battle for a focused mind in the presence of God is a timeless struggle.

The sacrifice of Abraham, the father or the faithful, was not exempt from the fowls pecking at it (Gen. 15:11).

Conclusion: An Invitation to Deeper Thought

These four truths from a 17th-century theologian reveal a profound tension. They paint a coherent, albeit challenging, picture of a God who is radically other—a pure spirit, immutably perfect, and utterly unstained by our reality—who is also intimately acquainted with our most human frailties, like the struggle to focus during prayer. Charnock doesn't resolve this tension; he invites us to live within it, pushing us toward a faith that is less about easy answers and more about deep, rewarding contemplation.

Which of these ancient ideas most challenges or comforts your modern view of God, and why?