Once you identify a paradox, the next job is to solve it. Which means: to show why some of those appearances are deceptive. The premises aren't really true, or the reasoning isn't really impeccable, or the conclusion isn't really contradictory or unacceptable. Of course, an omniscient being wouldn't first be tricked and then discover the trick. To God there are no paradoxes. Right? Well...roughly. (If there are counterexamples, it's going to be very, very tricky to say how and why.)
Sainsbury has an especially simple and economical way of explaining the paradox of the preface--
Recognizing his own fallibility, the author writes in the preface, with all sincerity, "Though I believe everything I've written, no doubt this book contains mistakes (for which I apologize." He believes each of the statements in the book, yet also believes that at least one of them is false, which is close to believing a contradiction; yet his position seems both modest and rational. The paradox stems from the fact that it cannot be rational to believe a contradiction. (from the Oxford Companion to Philosophy)Initial appearance: the author rationally believes a contradiction. But it can't be rational to believe a contradiction. The solver has to dispel the appearance.
What really sustains a paradox is people working on it and offering conflicting solutions. It's when you realize there are ten different views on what's wrong with the reasoning in the paradox of the preface that you really start to feel like you're in the presence of a paradox. All alone in your head, convinced of your own favorite solution, it may seem like there's nothing puzzling here at all.
Which makes me think there's something singularly human about paradox. For a solitary god who can't be fooled by appearances, and who has no one to argue with, there aren't any paradoxes. Or at least (I'm thinking of the liar's paradox and a few others) there are very few.