The Art of Life: An Introduction
The deepest challenges facing the church today are not primarily theological or intellectual, but practical problems in ordering the art of life.
Magnus Carlsen's baffling chess moves provide a striking picture of how God's higher wisdom appears strange to us while still displaying unmistakable genius.
In this essay, I want to explore the literary artistry of the Bible by looking at the genius of God through Magnus Carlsen, the greatest chess player alive.
There was a fascinating video featuring two chess grandmasters—that’s the highest designation in chess—Jan Gustafsson and Magnus Carlsen. If you follow chess at all, you already know this, but Magnus Carlsen is the greatest chess player alive and probably will be regarded as the greatest of all time. In this particular match, Gustafsson does not know that it is Magnus he is playing. They are playing online through the computer, and Gustafsson assumes he is facing an anonymous opponent.
I want you to look at how a great chess player interacts with someone he doesn’t know, but who is operating at a much higher level of skill than him. Notice the kinds of things Gustafsson says as the match unfolds:
“It’s just humiliating. Also very confused by his style, because he doesn’t make any sensible moves. No offense, but somehow he keeps tricking me. Just blitzing out stuff… There should be fork, takes bishop d3, are you serious? Either he’s the biggest genius in the world, or this is weird. Yeah, this looks way, way over my head. I’m not sure what’s going on there, Mr. Solomon. It’s too strong for me. Either he’s the biggest genius in the world, or this is just weird.”
Notice the psychology of what is happening here. Jan is confronting something truly great that sits far above him. Pay attention to how he describes it: it doesn’t seem to make sense; it feels weird. Yet at the same time, it isn’t just pure randomness or chaos. There is a glimmer of a pattern, an inkling of greatness. There is a hint that something unbelievable is going on beneath the surface. And at the end of the day, Magnus beats him. As Gustafsson remarks, his opponent tricks him over and over again.
I think this provides a helpful image of the relationship between God and humanity. Sometimes we view God as this distant, elevated reality way over here, and ourselves down here. In trying to characterize that gap, people sometimes say that God is so beyond us and so far out there that he is wholly and completely other. That impulse produces a theological tradition known as apophaticism, or negative theology. It claims that the only thing we can truly know about God is what he is not. God becomes a kind of dark void, so exalted and unknowable that he remains completely cut off from our grasp.
What this chess match illustrates, however, is how genuine genius—something truly above us—actually presents itself to us. When it arrives, it brings a dual impression. On the one hand, there is a feeling that this is strange, that this is weird, that it does not seem sensible. Yet in reality, it is profoundly sensible; it is simply higher than our comprehension. On the other hand, there is a recognizable pattern where we can discern goodness, order, and immense value. Something amazing is occurring, even if it remains far beyond our capacity to fully calculate. Notice that Gustafsson did not conclude, “This is pure lunacy; this is total chaos.” No, he recognized that something brilliant was there.
The same dynamic applies when we read the Bible or encounter events in our own lives that appear confusing or strange. We can recognize from familiar human experiences that when someone possesses vastly superior intelligence, their actions will naturally appear nonsensical to us at first glance. It will not seem to follow our expected logic, it will not seem to fit our categories, and it will look strange.
That is precisely what we should expect from God. We should not expect his ways to line up neatly with our limited expectations. A God whose actions were entirely obvious to us would lack the majestic authority, transcendent genius, and beauty that belong to the God of Scripture.
The deepest challenges facing the church today are not primarily theological or intellectual, but practical problems in ordering the art of life.
When physical strength is pursued for aesthetics rather than duty, protection, and sacrifice, it becomes a distorted caricature of masculinity.
Because reality is arranged in ascending, emergent layers, collecting more bottom-up data can never substitute for higher-order understanding.