We’ve all read it. We’ve all seen it. And we’ve all been pissed off by it.

Deus ex machina—defined by Merriam-Webster as “a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty.”

It’s convenient for the writer. Dissatisfying for the reader.

I think the idea of deus ex machina has bled into religion and other spiritual beliefs in a way that’s stripped life of its meaning for a lot of people. And this isn’t me trying to belittle anyone’s faith—but I do want to challenge how we think about it.

Is it easier to believe that some higher force is controlling everything—that it’ll either save you or let you down? Or would you rather believe we control our own destinies?

At first glance, most people shout the latter. But give it a minute, and the former starts sounding a lot easier to swallow. Why take responsibility if we don’t have to?

(This concept shows up across many religions, but most of my examples come from Christianity—simply because that’s what I’m most familiar with.)

Even Jesus denied the idea of God as a deus ex machina. During the Temptation in the Desert—after Jesus was baptized and spent 40 days fasting—Satan tests him three times. One of those tests has always stood out to me.

Satan says:

“If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down from hence: For it is written, He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee: And in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot against a stone.”
—Luke 4:9-11

Jesus responds:

“It is written again, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

I haven’t read the Bible in full—or any religious scripture for that matter—but this moment stuck with me. If God wouldn’t intervene to save His own son, why would He save me? And then it hit me: maybe He already did.
Maybe the gift is the chance to save ourselves.

Free will is the greatest gift of all. If God can just swoop in and save us anytime, what’s the point of the struggle? Of the story? Of life?

That idea reminded me of something from Jordan Peterson’s 12 Rules for Life. In Rule 12, he shares a question from an old Jewish story:

“Imagine a being who is omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent. What does such a being lack?”

The answer? Limitation.

Limitations might look like flaws or setbacks, but they’re the birthplace of meaning and beauty. If everyone could throw a football like Aaron Rodgers, no one would watch the NFL. If everyone sang like Beyoncé, music wouldn’t matter.

So I’ll leave you with this:

Would you rather believe the afterlife is granted through strict belief—or through how you live and treat others?

If someone strives to live like Christ but never finds “the one true religion,” are they really less deserving than the spiteful churchgoer who shows up every Sunday? What kind of God would deny the former? Would you even want to go to that version of Heaven? That’s not for me to decide.

But I challenge you—no matter your beliefs—to live like a Christ-like figure. Pick up the ones who’ve reached their limit. Then look for beauty in that limit.

Love you all. Keep your head up, your heart higher, and be thankful for the day.

Until next time,
NB