“Who doesn’t love a good mystery?” goes the saying. In my family, Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie are popular reads. If you’re like me, you may be more familiar with the TV cliffhanger. Growing up, I would come home from school and watch the syndicated reruns of the Batman series that began in 1966. These episodes came in pairs of conflict and resolution. The worst was when the conflict episode happened on a Friday and I had to wait the entire weekend for the resolution episode to see if Batman and Robin had escaped. It didn’t take long before I realized that of course they did—every single time.
Fictional mysteries can have unsatisfying or unresolved conclusions. Sometimes this is intentional: a device used by the author so that the reader considers possible endings for himself. Or maybe the creator believes this cloud of mystery gives added depth to his work.
Paul warned in the Christian age (2 Tim. 3:1) that there was a class of people who were “always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth” (v. 7). This is apparent in the “mystery religions” that began under the Greek empire and continued well into the third century in Rome. Although some of these religions began to infuse elements of Christianity, “[t]he principal rites remain unknown because of a reluctance in antiquity to divulge them.”1 To the followers of these mystery religions, real religion belonged to the esoteric. This idea even influenced some Christians who left and began their own sects (e.g. the “Gnostics”).
In the New Testament, the term “mystery” usually refers to something which was once hidden but is now revealed. Often the term “mystery” refers to the gospel (“the mystery of God” in Col. 2:2; “the mystery of Christ” in 4:3; and “the mystery of godliness” in 1 Tim. 3:16). The gospel had been a “mystery” for centuries, even before the world began, but was being revealed through Jesus and the New Testament authors (Rom. 16:25-27; cf. 1 Cor. 2:7; Eph. 3:9; 6:19; Col. 1:26-27). The gospel had been a mystery, but was not mysterious. It was not intended to be kept hidden for a select few. God’s will had been “made known” (Eph. 1:9), was known and taught by Paul (Eph. 3:3-4), and there was no exception. Paul warned the Jews not to “be ignorant” of the “mystery” (Rom. 11:25; cf. Eph. 1:7-10) and convince themselves they could serve God in their own way. There was only one path to salvation for all, and it was now up to the seeker to find the mystery solved (Mt. 5:6).
Jesus taught in parables intending to be understood, but the understanding required effort on behalf of the hearer. Parables were only a “mystery” to those “outside” who refused to make application (Mk. 4:11). Concepts such as Christ’s love for the church (“gave himself for her” Eph. 5:25) and its relation to marriage responsibilities (Eph. 5:22-33) and what will happen to our bodies at the Lord’s return (1 Cor. 15:51) are mysteries only made known through Divine insight.
We sometimes groan at the conclusion of a movie, book or TV series because the ending is unsatisfying. I recently watched 2001: A Space Odyssey with my sons for the first time. Our house follows a strict “no spoilers” edict, and the film’s ending can be referenced in a general enough way to uphold this policy. As the credits rolled and cries of “What?!” came from the couch, I simply asked my sons where Arthur C. Clarke and Stanley Kubrick, two vocal opponents of the idea of a monotheistic God, came up with the idea of such an ending? Where did this concept of transcendence originate (hint: read John 3:1ff)? It’s an interpretation of the ending I haven’t heard discussed in film circles, but seems obvious to me (Eccl. 3:11).
Unlike movies that remain open-ended long after the credits roll, God’s revealed mysteries are enough to sustain us until the Lord’s return (Deut. 29:29). The point of the word “mystery” in the New Testament is to show God’s resolution—every single time. For instance, in Second Thessalonians 2 Paul refers to “the man of sin” or “the son of perdition” (v. 3) on whose identity scholars differ. However, to comfort the initial readers he says, “the mystery of lawlessness is already at work” (v. 7) and they are reminded that the matter had already been discussed (v. 5).
In the case of Revelation, although the name of the book is Revelation, it is treated like a mystery that is debatable but never understood. The point of the book is that enough is revealed to be faithful until death (Rev. 2:10). If there were any doubt, how could John reveal the “mystery” (1:20) of Jesus to the recipients, insuring them that “He who overcomes shall not be hurt by the second death” (2:11)?
Therefore, the mystery solved is the revealed gospel, intended to be understood, with a sufficient resolution.
We will certainly continue to face trials in life (Ps. 34:19), yet the Bible says that our faith should assure us of victory even over death (1 Jn. 5:4-5). The fearful uncertainty of death has long been considered a mystery to many, some because they choose to live in doubt (Jn. 3:19). To God’s faithful, there is no longer any mystery but guaranteed knowledge of “victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor. 15:57).
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Arndt, W., Danker, F. W., Bauer, W., & Gingrich, F. W. (2000). In A Greek-English lexicon of the New Testament and other early Christian literature (3rd ed., p. 661). University of Chicago Press.
Thank you, Daniel. It’s amazing to consider all that went into the “mystery” before it was finally revealed for our salvation. How praiseworthy is The Author!