God (not) from the machine
Listen, friends. We’ve known each other for a while: a whole five issues now! It’s about time that I tell you some nerdy stuff about my major.
For those wondering what my major is, it’s writing. Shocking, I know.
It’s important in every blossoming friendship with English or writing majors to bear with us when we tell you some English facts that you don’t care about. Otherwise, we’ll retreat to our caves of books and pens and ink, where an audiobook of “The Great Gatsby” echoes through the stone walls on repeat. So listen up before I retreat to my cave.
There’s a plot device that’s been around forever, and it’s called deus ex machina. Heard of it?
Whether you have or not, here’s the meaning: Back in the ancient days, when the Greeks thought about lots of stuff really hard because they didn’t have ChatGPT to think for them, they produced plays. And oftentimes, these plays would include the plot device known as deus ex machina.
The term translates to something like “god from the machine.” At the end of those Greek plays, when all hope was lost for the characters, a god or goddess would come swooping down on a crane system operated by pulleys (known as the “mechane”) and effectively save the day by fixing all the characters’ problems.
We see this today manifested in lots of genres. Most commonly (and the one that irks so many) is when the protagonist gets himself into loads of trouble and then the entire plot ends up being “all a dream.”
We English/writing majors hate deus ex machina. It’s an insult to our time, it’s lazy, and it’s weird. To have something pop out of nowhere, completely unwarranted by the previous parts of the story, and “fix” the plot and characters — that’s just bad writing.
I think we want deus ex machina from God, though.
We want God to do things in these grand, unexpected ways. The problem is, it doesn’t matter how he acts — we’ll be left disappointed if we expect the deus ex machina or not.
In other words, God can respond in a grand way (deus ex machina-style), and we would be left wondering, “Well, that came out of nowhere. Weird.” Or, he can respond in a little way, and we would be thinking, “Why couldn’t he have done more?”
Because our flesh presents him in a negative light either way, it’s a lose-lose situation for our perception of Big G.
If we are thinking of Jesus as a god of the Greek plays — where out of nowhere the god just pops in on some rope, singing George Straight (“I ain’t here for a long time / I’m here for a good time”) while sprinkling fairy dust on the characters and saving the day — we have an inappropriate outlook of our Lord.
Jesus doesn’t want to be our deus ex machina. He wants a long, lasting relationship with us. He wants to show us who he is so that whether he acts in grand or small ways, we can reply to his blessings with thankfulness because we know who has been supplying those blessings.
The best way to rid a plot of deus ex machina is to have written in the deus in the first place. This is what Jesus has done by making himself known to us.
It all comes down to this: No matter how Christ responds to our prayers and problems, he cannot be a deus ex machina because we have been made aware of who he is through his word. He is not a cheap ending or an annoying plot device. He is a unique storyteller, and we are his unique characters.
If you are left upset by his response in a situation — if you feel like his works come out of nowhere — that may be a sign that you should be spending more time with him and learning more about his qualities. Get to know how he works in your life so that his blessings don’t blindside or frustrate you.
Don’t let the flesh get you thinking our God is a deus ex machina god. His blessings are far more intriguing than a poor plot device.
Gilmer is the opinion editor for the Liberty Champion. Follow him on X