Why is Rowan Williams so difficult? His elliptical prose style, his contemplative tone, and the difficulty attendant in trying to 'pin him down' on a certain philosophical or theological position, give even his most academically astute audiences a sense that one has learned something profound, while leaving them at a loss as to what it is in particular they have learned. Compounding this difficulty is Williams' penchant for developing 'his' positions by commenting upon other thinkers, most especially Augustine of Hippo. Williams' difficulty is no accident, standing in continuity with the 'content' of his theology—indeed, the heart of his theology is, in a sense, the difficulty itself: the unique ways in which he provokes confusion and discomfort in his audience in every genre, in every occasion. Williams' writings on art illumine what he sees as the nature of theological language and knowledge. For Williams, 'what the poet [and, I argue, the theologian] seeks to do is something quite close to provoking a "crisis" in the language she is using … so that a new perception is pushed into being' (The Edge of Words, 58). Williams' interest in art and apophatic language has to do with the ability to make us attend to difficulty. This difficulty is a necessary precondition for us to have a vision of infinite intelligence and love; the difficulties of making sense of this vision then open us onto a deeper vision of divine plenitude. Art and theology turn our focus to the difficulties of making sense of the world, not for difficulty's own sake, but for the beautiful vision of God. This paper offers an analysis of Williams' views about art and difficulty to indicate the possibility and promise of an 'Augustinian' aesthetic in the contemporary world.