Consistent from A to Z
By Anthony Casperson
7-6-24

Regardless of the fact that it’s been nearly twenty years since the film Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire released, you might still be able to find book fans who tweak out over one line spoken by Dumbledore.

These book fans stand disappointed over the way that the actor chose for his character to ask Harry if he put his name in the cup. As I’ve heard it pointed out, the book literally says that Dumbledore asks this question calmly. But the film shows a very different characterization as the words explode out of him.

For most, that difference is hardly the most egregious offense of changes in adaptation. The audience understands the intensity of the moment. Something impossible had just happened. And someone had to figure out how it did. And anyone who’s been a child can relate to an authority figure getting in their face about something that they didn’t do.

The issue here is that readers of the book will explain that Dumbledore isn’t one of those standard authority figures. He doesn’t need to yell or growl or snarl in order to be intense. Calm intensity is the standard for him. Something almost otherworldly that both draws us in, even while it makes us lean back in watchfulness.

Thus, readers who watch the film see the bellowing of that one question as an affront to the character whom they know and love. And therefore, they balk at the representation because they want a Dumbledore who is consistent with his characterization.

From beginning to end.

It’s the same type of principle whenever we see a character do something outside of what we think they would normally do. Those “They’d never do that” moments which drive us crazy.

This is because we innately understand that a person’s character is proven by their deeds. What they do—the works they perform—echo who they are. Whether they’re a character in a story or an actual person.

Or God.

It’s this idea of dissonance between character and deeds that causes people to question if there’s some difference between “the God of the Old Testament” and “the God of the New Testament.” The whole question our summer blog series revolves around.

People have a perspective of God’s love, then look at commands to wipe entire nations out and question how this can be the same God. They feel that it’s a betrayal of God’s character.

Whenever there’s inconsistency between character and work, we easily come to the conclusion that the one doing this thing has to be someone else. Or we think that we have to reevaluate the type of person they are.

But sometimes we should ask if it was our perspective on their character that was wrong.

Is it that there’s a “God of the OT” and a totally different “God of the NT?” Is it that God’s not actually as loving as his hype make him out to be? Or is it that we don’t understand his love as much as we think we do?

Throughout our series so far, I’ve been trying to explain that it’s the latter question which we need to ask. We have an understanding of God’s love that is more about acquitting the guilty—allowing people to do as they please without consequence—than being merciful and gracious.

And when we look at the steadfast love of God in a proper manner, we will see that every one of his works is consistent with his character. From A to Z.

Including the righteous judgement.

In the third of David’s song trilogy, which quote God’s bio that’s taken from Exodus 34, we come to Psalm 145. And in it, David sings praise to God while saying how good all of God’s works are.

We know David means to include all of God’s works because of the Hebrew acrostic that the song follows. Each of the verses beings with a different letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In order. That’s why I’m emphasizing the A-to-Z-ness of the whole thing. It’s a way to speak of all of God’s works being good without having to specifically spell it out. Or list the myriad deeds of our good God.

The application of what David writes is for us to praise God. We can clearly see that in verses 1-3 and 21. Everyday, over and over, all of creation should bless God’s name.

What reason does David give for us to praise him? His works. I mean, read the psalm and count how many times the words “works” and “deeds” appear, and then tell me that the song’s about anything else. And when we add to that all of the verses that show the types of deeds God does, it’s even more clear.

And they are all seen as praiseworthy. Wondrous works. Awesome deeds. Abundant goodness. He supports those who fall. Lifts the face of those bowed down. Gives food in its season. Satisfies living things with his grace. Is near to those who call on him. Hears the cry of those who fear him. And saves them.

Who wouldn’t want to serve this God? It sounds like it’s good times for everyone. Like the “God of the NT” in the words of the OT.

But much like the refrain of God’s bio, which we see in verse 8, there follows it a part of his goodness that we don’t want to see.

Throughout the whole psalm, we see God’s good works available to all people. Every work. And mercy ready for all of his creation. But look at the sides of his goodness in verse 20. “The Lord preserves all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy.”

It’s the record scratch moment. All fun and good times as we’ve been singing of this God abounding in steadfast love and forgiveness. Until we see his justice refuse to acquit the guilty. Until the wicked get destroyed. Until we can’t get away with doing the things we want to do.

The very things that go against his prescribed good for us.

We then find ourselves wanting to scream and cry that God’s being unfair and unloving. We thought love and goodness meant that we could keep going down our destructive paths without worry. But that’s not how God’s love works.

The steadfast love of the God who is gracious and merciful and slow to anger is available to all. But only those who truly call on him to change us will find him near. Only those who reverently fear him will be heard and saved. Only those who loyally love him will be preserved.

But those who don’t—those who wickedly refuse to accept his offer of forgiveness—won’t receive any of those things. He won’t acquit the guilty. He won’t just let everyone do whatever’s good in their own eyes and call it good too. Because much of what we human beings call good in our own eyes is selfish and comes at the cost of others.

For God to allow others to hurt us as they do what they think is good, that would mean that he’s not good. Not to us. Because it’s not for our benefit. And the same is true if they only hurt themselves. It’s not really good for them to hurt themselves. A god who allows such things to happen without penalty isn’t good. It falls outside of the character of the only real God.

So, we should be able to see that a God who is truly good and loving will always and only do good things. Including punishing those refuse to accept his forgiveness.

Righteous judgement is a part of God’s character. His consistent goodness. His A to Z.