God’s Dictionary
Being a card-carrying child of the eighties, I LOVE The Princess Bride. I can quote it for days. One of the most quotable parts (you probably know where I’m going with this) is the repetition of the word “inconceivable” by Vizzini, the self-proclaimed mastermind behind Princess Buttercup’s abduction.
As the Man in Black’s ship gets closer and closer, Vizzini’s response is a bewildered, “inconceivable!” When the Man in Black begins gaining on them as they all climb up a very severe looking cliff, Vizzini exclaims, “inconceivable!” Abashed that anyone could outwit him or thwart his “brilliant” plans, Vizzini sees the Man in Black clinging to the side of the cliff and says in astonishment, yet again, “He didn’t fall? Inconceivable!” This time, though, Inigo, his hired sword, responds, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Feel free to watch the clip here, if you are so inclined. I 10/10 recommend it.
If you are in my generation (or have a parent who is), I’ll bet you’ve heard this before - always said dramatically and hyperbolically. It’s fun to make fun of arrogant people who believe they know all the things, when they reveal the foolishness they can’t see themselves.
Definition: Inconceivable - adj. Not capable of being imagined or grasped mentally.
Though it may have been hard for Vizzini to grasp that both his genius and careful plans were faltering before his eyes, as Inigo Montoya points out, it wasn’t impossible to grasp, especially since he’d said it a handful of times in just a couple minutes of film and clearly the Man in Black was becoming a threat. It might have been, though, less an issue with the word itself, and more an issue of how Vizzini defined himself. He felt his genius was inconceivable to most - that anyone who might come up against him would be doomed to failure. The fact the Man in Black appeared to be gaining ground (literally and metaphorically) on him, a genius, was to Vizzini, “inconceivable.”
Spoiler – it turns out Vizzini’s perception of the height of his genius and the infallibility of his plans both fell well short of expectations, which are, themselves, a sort of definition in disguise.
I am never sorry when Vizzini is bested by the Man in Black in the movie. He is a pompous little man whom I want to thump.
Lately, though, I have been reminded about how my own definitions are often inaccurate. God, like Inigo, has pushed on them a bit and challenged what I thought was clear. “Nikki, you keep saying that. Are you sure that means what you think it means?”
Definition: Impossible - adj. Not able to occur, exist, or be done.
I recently started a new Bible study on the book of Judges by J.D. Greear with a group of wonderful ladies. I was looking forward to learning, but I wasn’t expecting to be hit with conviction, revelation, and rescue in such a way so soon. Much of it had to do with faulty definitions.
Let me set the scene. In the first book of Judges, each tribe of Israel is tasked with going out and claiming a portion of the promised land; however, there are enemies there they must battle. The Canaanites, Perizzites, Asherites, Naphtalites, Amorites, and others all stood against them.
Even so, all is going well at the start. God gives them the task, and who can stand against God? “When Judah attacked, The Lord gave the Canaanites and Perizzites into their hands” (Judges 1:4). They keep pressing forward and keep winning, as “The Lord was with the men of Judah” (Judges 1:19), until, it seemed, he wasn’t.
In that same verse, we see they fail in conquering the people of the plains because “they had chariots fitted with iron” (1:4). I mean, I wouldn’t want to come up against a chariot of iron, for sure, but what is a little metal to God? The rest of chapter one isn’t a chronicle of Israel’s victories; it is a chronicle of defeats. Loss follows loss as each tribe attempts to clear out their section of land and fails for one reason or another.
The Benjamites failed to drive out the Jebusites (1:21).
The tribes of Manasseh failed to clear out their land because “the Canaanites were determined to live in that land” (1:27).
Ephriam and Zeblun also failed with the Caananites (1:29-30).
Asher failed (1:31).
Naphtali failed (1:33).
Even Joseph, previously victorious, fails with the Amorites because they “were determined also to hold out” (1:35).
This begs the question: What were the tribes of Israel expecting these people to do, exactly? Were they surprised these groups didn’t willingly and easily give up their lands? It sounds to me like they began defining their tasks as impossible.
“But God! Those guys have chariots with metal. It’s impossible!”
“But God! They really don’t want to leave. It’s impossible!”
I imagine something like this going through their heads as they march home in defeat.
God wasn’t buying Israel’s excuses, for that’s all they were. They defined their circumstances as “impossible,” when the issue was something else entirely.
God sent his angel to give them a little vocabulary lesson.
You see, it wasn’t that all of the sudden God lost his omnipotence. The God who had just been leading them to victory didn’t catch a cramp and have to sit out the rest of the battles.
The problem is never in the strength of God.
As the angel told the Israelites, “You have disobeyed me” (2:2). Very clearly, the problem was with them. In fact, the end of Judges chapter two sees the Israelites facing the anger of God. He says to them, “Because this nation has violated the covenant I ordained for their ancestors and has not listened to me, I will no longer drive out before them any of the nations Joshua left when he died” (2:20-21).
It wasn’t IMPOSSIBLE for the Israelites to defeat their enemies. We know while humans are limited, “with God all things are possible” (Matt 19:26).
See, the Israelites got their definition wrong. They were crying “impossible!” instead of “Please forgive us.” It wasn’t that the task couldn’t be done; it was that the Israelites, like Vizzini, blinded themselves to their own shortcomings. These tasks weren’t impossible at all. The Israelites were disobedient and prideful. God said to do one thing and He would give them victory, and they responded, in arrogant opposition, “Inconceivable God! We cannot win.”
Can you imagine telling God he was wrong? When we tell God what he tells us to do is “impossible,” isn’t that the same thing?
Definition: Insurmountable - adj. Too great to be overcome.
I was struck to the core by the story in Judges. The day before, my son’s kindergarten teacher called because he was having an emotional outburst and couldn’t calm himself. Emotional regulation is hard for him, and I didn’t know how to help. So, as a mother who loves her child very much, I stressed about not knowing how to help. I worried about what I could do differently. I obsessed over figuring out a plan. I felt this issue was insurmountable, that I couldn’t find a way to help him, especially when I was at home, and he was a school.
I even prayed. I prayed God would help me find a solution, that He would show me a way to help.
There is nothing, I think, inherently wrong in this prayer; however, for me there was. You see, I wasn’t praying because I wanted to hand the problem over to God. I wasn’t praying because I believed He could provide a miraculous solution. No, my prayer was still firmly rooted in my power and an incorrect definition of both the problem and my own abilities.
Instead of recognizing God for the omnipotent and loving father He is, the emotion behind my prayer was more whining with a side of pride. I probably sounded like this in his ears: “I have to figure out how to help my son, and I’m frustrated, tired, and unsure of what to do. Can you make this not so hard on me? Can you, God, just do what I tell you?”
What foolishness.
Not only was I blatantly wrong in my definition of the issue, thinking it “insurmountable.” I was also blatantly wrong in defining my own place and self-expectations.
As I read about the Israelites in Judges who faced what seemed like big, insurmountable obstacles, I realized I was treating God in much the same way, and I know better than that. I was dealing with the same arrogance of challenging what God had promised me and even who he is.
God made my son. He made him unique and wonderful. He knows every single hair on his head. He loves my son so, so much and has plans for his good.
What’s more, there is nothing “insurmountable” about, well, anything really. Not with my son, not with anything you might be facing. Because nothing is insurmountable for God. NOTHING. Not a single thing. Zero. Nada.
Trying to learn from the failures of the Israelites, I adjusted my prayer.
“God, I know you love my son and you can do all things. I pray you would work this out according to your will and in your power. Help me to trust you with my life and with his.”
Do you see how my focus changed from being about me and what I could do to being about God and what he could do? My definitions were getting better.
I’ve heard it said that “impossible” isn’t in God’s dictionary, but I’m not so sure that’s the case. Maybe it’s there, but we are just not using it right.
It is “impossible” to focus on God’s power when we are focusing on our own.
Victories are “inconceivable” when we only have our own myopic, human perspective.
The troubles of this world are “insurmountable” when we face them with nothing but inflated self-importance and pride.
Maybe God wants to remind us there is a way these words apply to him. Maybe He wants us to remember, in whatever we are facing, that it is impossible for God to go against his own nature of inconceivable love and might that is insurmountable by anything that might come against it.
The question is, whose definitions are you going to choose?
