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Unsurprising - 12 March 2010
Tom Weinandy’s Does God Change? is wonderful. Truly wonderful. Yet I was surprised by one comment on Ignatius of Antioch’s defence of the full humanity and deity of Christ against the Docetists. Weinandy finds it “surprising that at such an early date one finds the full divinity and full humanity predicated of the one person of Christ almost in Chalcedonian rigor” (Weinandy, Change, p. xxiii).
Really? Why should this be surprising? Doesn’t the Bible itself teach clearly the full deity and full humanity of Christ? Granted that there is in Ignatius “a lack of [the] theological argumentation” (p. xxiii) one finds in later treatments, why should we be surprised to find an early Christian affirming bluntly what the Bible says plainly?
Helping Jehovah’s Witnesses - 14 October 2009
There are a fair number of Jehovah’s Witnesses in North London. It’s often quite hard to talk to them about the teaching of the Bible, since they generally seem to respond with ‘standard answers’ when facing biblical challenges to their doctrinal positions.
There are few things more tragic than seeing someone trapped by institutionalised spiritual blindness.
The problem is compounded by the fact that JWs have their own Bible translation, the New World Translation, which translates away many of the clearest biblical proofs for key biblical doctrines denied by JW theology, such as the deity of Christ.
However, we’ve got to begin somewhere, and the deity of Christ is a sensible place to open a conversation. Here, with thanks to Louis Berkhof (Systematic Theology, pp. 94-95), are some useful places to turn. The underlined references are (I think) likely to be most effective at helping a JW to see the inadequacy of the teaching they’ve received from their organisation.
Jesus is explicitly described as divine
John 1:1; John 20:28; Romans 9:5; Philippians 2:6; Titus 2:13; 1 John 5:20
Jesus is given divine names
Isaiah 9:6; Isaiah 40:3, cf. Matthew 3:3; Jeremiah 23:5-6; Joel 2:32, cf. Acts 2:21
Divine attributes are ascribed to Jesus
Eternal existence
Isaiah 9:6; John 1:1-2
Omniscience
John 2:24-25; John 21:17; Revelation 2:23
Omnipotence
Isaiah 9:6; Philippians 3:21
Immutability
Hebrews 1:10-12; Hebrews 13:8
Every attribute belonging to the Father
Colossians 2:9
Jesus does divine works
Creation
John 1:3, 10; Colossians 1:16; Hebrews 1:2, 10
Providence
Luke 10:22; John 3:35; John 17:2; Ephesians 1:22; Colossians 1:17; Hebrews 1:3
Forgiveness of sins
Matthew 9:2-7; Mark 2:7-10
Resurrection and judgment
Matthew 25:31-32; John 5:19-29; Acts 10:42; Acts 17:31; Philippians 3:21; 2 Timothy 4:1
The final renewal of all things
Hebrews 1:10-12; Philippians 3:21; Revelation 21:5
Jesus receives divine honours
John 5:22-23; John 14:1; Hebrews 1:6; Matthew 28:19
Practical preterism (2) - 3 August 2009
We’ve already looked at three passages in 1 Thessalonians to try to figure out whether or not the context supports a preterist reading. Next on the list is a longer passage, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18.
13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. 14 For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. 15 For this we declare to you by a word from the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will not precede those who have fallen asleep. 16 For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. 17 Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. 18 Therefore encourage one another with these words.
Several considerations suggest that Paul is talking here about the final judgment, not AD 70.
- The presenting issue is what will happen to believers who have ‘fallen asleep’ (i.e. died, 4:13-15; cf. 1 Cor 11:30). It’s hard to imagine how a reply about Jesus coming in judgment on the Temple would address this concern.
- Paul answers this concern by drawing a parallel between Jesus’ death and resurrection, on the one hand, and the way in which God will bring with Jesus those believers who have died (4:14), on the other. Just as Jesus died and was raised, the argument runs, so also these brothers and sisters who have died will be raised. Again, this points to the general resurrection.
- The reference to the general resurrection becomes explicit in 4:16: ‘the dead in Christ will rise first’.
So far, so good. But there’s a fly in the ointment. Paul seems to anticipate that he and his hearers will still be alive at ‘the coming of the Lord’ (4:15) about which he has been speaking. ‘We who are alive’, he says twice (4:15, 17); not ‘those who are alive’. How can the text be about the general resurrection if Paul expected to still be alive when the great day came?
Some have attempted to solve this puzzle by suggesting that Paul was mistaken about the time of Jesus final coming. Others (e.g. C. H. Dodd) have argued that Paul changed his mind about the timing of the last day: near the beginning of his ministry (when he wrote 1 Thessalonians) he expected Jesus to return very soon, but later he had decided that the final judgment would be delayed.
I’m not sure how these solutions can be reconciled with an evangelical doctrine of Scripture. It’s one thing to say that Paul’s understanding of the gospel developed during his life – after all, he started out as a gospel denying, church-persecuting Pharisee. But it is quite another to claim that Paul expressed his early misunderstandings in his biblical writings, for this effectively undermines the truthfulness of the Bible.
A much better solution is found by looking closer at the Greek text. It turns out that the phrase ‘we who are alive’ doesn’t necessarily imply that Paul expected the parousia to occur before his death. Following I. H. Marshall and C. E. B. Cranfield, Paul Woodbridge[1] has pointed out that the ‘we’ may be hypothetical (i.e. ‘if we are alive’), or indeed it may ’signify nothing more that a general designation’ (i.e. ‘we, insofar as this will, as events turn out, apply to us’). Paul’s ‘we who are alive’ does not, in itself, indicate that Paul expected the day of resurrection to come before his death.
Taking all this together, it seems overwhelmingly likely that 1 Thess 4:13-18, like 2:19-20; 3:11-13 and 5:23-24, refers not to AD 70 but to the general resurrection.
[1] Paul Woodbridge, ‘Did Paul Change His Mind? An Examination of Some Aspects of Pauline Eschatology,’ Themelios 28.3 (2008), p. 10. Online www.biblicalstudies.org.uk/article_paul_woodbridge.html
Practical preterism (1) - 25 July 2009
In a previous post, we looked at preterism in general terms – what it is, what it isn’t, and so on. In this and a few later posts, we’ll be thinking about how this works out in practice. In particular, we’ll be looking at 1 Thessalonians as a case study to work out what kinds of exegetical factors might incline us towards or against a preterist reading of a given passage.
We’ll begin with 1 Th 2:19-20; 3:11-13 and 5:23-24.
19 For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? 20 For you are our glory and joy. (1 Th 2:19-20)
11 Now may our God and Father himself, and our Lord Jesus, direct our way to you, 12 and may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, as we do for you, 13 so that he may establish your hearts blameless in holiness before our God and Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints. (1 Th 3:11-13)
23 Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. 24 He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. (1 Th 5:23-24)
It’s tempting, when reading these texts, simply to assume that the ‘coming’ (parousia) spoken of is the final coming of Jesus at the last judgment. After all, we all believe in the second coming. Well, it’s true that Jesus will return to judge the living and the dead on the last day, but to assume that ‘coming’ means this here comes dangerously close to begging the question about their referent. After all, the purpose of the present discussion is precisely to work out whether or not the text might actually be referring to Jesus’ ‘coming’ in judgment on apostate Israel in AD 70. It’s at least possible for parousia to be used in this latter sense, as in Matthew 24:3, 27 (so R. T. France, Matthew). So what does it mean here?
1 Th 2:19 says that the Thessalonians will be the ‘crown [stephanos] of boasting’ for Paul and his companions at Jesus’ coming. The term stephanos appears in only three other places in Paul’s letters – 1 Cor 9:25; Phil 4:1; 2 Tim 4:8. Phil 4:1 is especially relevant, because here Paul refers to his believing readers as his stephanos, just as in 1 Th 2:19. The context plainly has to do with the bodily resurrection, when Christ ‘will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body’ (Phil 3:21).
2 Tim 4:8 points in the same direction, for here Paul is contemplating his own death: ‘I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race’ (2 Tim 4:7). This being the case, clearly the next event in world history with particular significance for him would be the day of resurrection, not the destruction of the Jewish Temple. Again, the stephanos is the reward received at the final judgment.
Similarly, 1 Cor 9:25 speaks of an ‘imperishable’ staphanos, which must surely be understood as a picture of the everlasting blessings of the resurrection age.
Thus 1 Th 2:19 seems to refer to the final coming of Christ at the last judgment.
The use of the same word for ‘coming’ (parousia) in both 1 Th 3:11-13 and 5:23-24 might make us think that these texts also refer to the day of resurrection. But we shouldn’t be too hasty, for the same word can mean different things in different contexts. As it happens, though, the context in each of these two texts does in fact support a final judgment referent.
The two passages are remarkably similar. Both are prayers for the sanctification of the Thessalonians, and as prayers go they are pretty ambitious. Paul prays not just that they would ‘increase and abound in love’, but that they would be ‘blameless … at the coming of our Lord Jesus’ (3:13; 5:23). More than this, he appears confident that God ‘will surely do it’ (5:24). This can only refer to the final judgment on the day of resurrection, for only then (and not before) will God’s people be ‘blameless in holiness’ before him.
Thus a preterist reading of 1 Th 2:19-20; 3:11-13 and 5:23-24 would be mistaken. These texts refer to Jesus’ ‘coming’ to judge the living and the dead at the general resurrection.
What is preterism? - 25 July 2009
Following this post on the subject of preterism, perhaps a few more comments on the subject might be worthwhile. In this post we’ll take a step back and clarify in a bit more detail what preterism is. In some later posts we’ll take a step forward and see what it looks like in practice.
‘Preterism’, in the most general sense, refers to the view that a given future-oriented biblical text refers to an event that now lies in the past. All orthodox Christians are therefore preterists on some texts but not on others. We’re all preterists on Mark 10:45 (Christ came ‘to give his life as a ransom for many’, and the ransom has now been paid) but not 1 Corinthians 15:52 (the dead ‘will be raised imperishable’, but they haven’t been yet). However, although this is what preterist / preterism means in the most general sense, it’s not how the term is normally used.
Preterism most commonly refers to the view that a given future-oriented biblical text, which might be (and often is) thought to refer to the general resurrection / final judgment, in fact refers to the events surrounding the destruction of the Jerusalem temple in AD 70. The texts most often debated include Mark 13, Matthew 24, 2 Thessalonians 2 and the book of Revelation, but many others could be (and often are) thrown into the discussion, such as 1 Corinthians 7:26 (what is ‘the present distress’?), the book of Hebrews (what is ‘the world to come’ in 2:5, for example?) and a whole pile more besides. The term is normally used to describe a interpretation of these texts that relates them to AD 70, rather than the final judgment.
Preterism must be carefully distinguished from hyper-preterism (sometimes called ‘full preterism’ or ‘consistent preterism’), which wrongly claims that all such texts were fulfilled in AD 70. Hyper-preterism is heretical, not least because it denies such credal essentials as the future bodily return of Christ and the future general bodily resurrection.
Clearly, it is both possible (indeed, necessary) to be a preterist on some texts but not others. You could be a preterist on Revelation, but not Hebrews or 1 Corinthians 15; on Mark 13:1-31, but not 1 Corinthians 7:26, and so on. The question, ‘Are you a preterist?’ should therefore always be met with the reply, ‘On which text(s)?’
Moreover, the only way to answer the more specific question ‘Are you a preterist on text x’ is by careful exegesis of the text concerned. Taking a preterist reading of one text might incline us towards a similar reading of others – especially if they use similar imagery in similar ways, such as in Matthew 24 and Mark 13 – but it wouldn’t necessarily do so. Moreover, just knowing that it could be about AD 70 doesn’t by itself get us very far; it merely draws our attention to one possible interpretative option that we might otherwise overlook. Nonetheless, this is a step in the right direction, for it’s striking how many solid evangelical commentaries either dismiss preterist readings with a brief wave of the hand, or even don’t mention the possibility at all. Sadly, this often leaves them in a bit of a tangle. An awareness of preterism would often clear up the mess.
Theocentric sin - 21 July 2009
Ps 51:4 occasionally raises an eyebrow, because it seems odd that after the Bathsheba incident David should say to God, ‘against you, you only, have I sinned’. Yet this isn’t the only time in the Bible that God is identified as the one against whom person-to-person sin is ultimately directed.
When Potiphar’s wife keeps pestering Joseph to sleep with her, he replies at length about the privilege he enjoys at the hand of his Egyptian master. The obvious implication being that it would be an outrage to repay Potiphar’s kindness with such treachery (Gen 39:8-9). Yet at the climax of Joseph’s reply, his words echo David’s concern not to sin against the Lord: ‘how then can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?’
Roberts on Bavinck on Calvin - 11 July 2009
In an article on Herman Bavinck in Ecclesia Reformanda, Matthew Roberts draws a comparison between the theology of John Calvin (happy 500th birthday) and that of Rome, Luther, Zwingli and the Anabaptists.
The issue concerns the relationship between fallen nature, on the one hand, and nature renewed in Christ, on the other (ER, 1.1, p. 80). Following Bavinck’s analysis, he observes that ‘Rome construes the natural as being good in itself, not necessarily evil’. Though this appears superficially to be ‘honouring to nature’, in fact it consigns nature to a second-class status, for in the end ‘grace can do nothing to nature other than allow it its own space … grace and nature have little to do with each other’.
Sadly, ‘Luther never attempted to overcome [this] Roman dualism’, nor did Zwingli or the Anabaptists. But Calvin understood the relationship between nature and grace far more clearly, with significant results for the scope of his theology, especially in the public sphere.
Re-creation is not a system that supplements creation, as in Catholicism, not a religious Reformation that leaves creation intact, as in Luther, much less a radically new creation as in Anabaptism, but a joyful tiding of the renewal of all creatures. (quoting Bavinck)
Consequently, ‘not only the church but also home, school, society and state are placed in the dominion of the principle of Christianity.’ The Bible was, for Calvin, not merely ‘a source of salvation truth,’ but ‘the norm for all of life’.
Objections to preterism - 3 June 2009
John Owen’s massive seven-volume commentary on Hebrews is hard to avoid if you’re spending much time on that book. It also has some surprises in store.
Owen’s interpretation differs from that of most modern evangelicals: in Owen’s view many of the future-oriented texts refer not the the general resurrection / final judgment / etc., but to the destruction of the Jewish Temple and the Old Covenant order in AD 70. Such a view is called a preterist reading of the text, because it locates their referent in the past (hence preterist). Of course Owen still believes in the general resurrection / final judgment / etc; he just doesn’t think that’s what Hebrews is talking about.
As far as I can see, many of Owen’s exegetical judgments on this subject are pretty solid. But I think it would be fair to say that there’s an underlying anxiety about such a reading among many people, which is grounded not so much on exegetical conclusions but on fears about what such a conclusion might imply.
The same anxieties appear to be evident in relation to other future-oriented texts in the NT, such as Mark 13:1-31 and Matthew 24, which are commonly assumed to be about the final judgment / general resurrection, but which (according to at least some Reformed evangelicals) refer to the events surrounding AD 70.
Here are some of those anxieties, and some initial responses to them.
1. The ’stench of liberalism’ argument. ‘Some liberals have argued that future-oriented texts in the NT refer to AD 70, either because they think that predictive prophecy is impossible (the texts must therefore be written after AD 70), or because they deny a future general resurrection / final judgment, or possibly both. A preterist reading of these texts therefore puts us squarely on the road to Schleiermacher.’
Formally, this argument commits the fallacy of affirming the consequent. Less formally, just because some liberals believe some right things for some of the wrong reasons, that doesn’t stop evangelicals believing those same right things for right reasons. For example, you could believe that Hebrews was written before AD 70 (not least because the Temple appears still to be in operation at the time it was written, cf. 10:2, 11), and you could believe in a future general resurrection / final judgment etc (because of 1 Cor 15, for example), and you could at the same time without the slightest shred of contradiction believe that Hebrews is talking about AD 70.
2. The ’slippery slope’ argument. ‘Once you start interpreting Hebrews like that, pretty soon you’ll end up doing the same with every future-oriented passage in the NT, with the result that you’ll end up denying the general resurrection / final judgment.’
Not so. Though some espouse the heresy of hyper-preterism (affirming that every future-oriented text in the NT has been fulfilled, and thus denying the classical orthodox doctrine of a future bodily resurrection), this is not an inevitable result of affirming that some NT texts have already been fulfilled. Each text must be addressed individually.
Indeed, if a preterist wanted to be provocative (perish the thought), (s)he could deploy the same (fallacious) argument the other way: ‘So, you deny that Mark 13 has already been fulfilled? Wow, that’s really dangerous. You carry on like that, and pretty soon you’ll be saying the same about Isaiah 53.’
3. The ‘implied irrelevance’ argument. ‘If the text has already been fulfilled, then it’s not relevant for us, because the future judgment about which it warns lies in the past.’
But it doesn’t follow that a text is irrelevant for us just because its referent lies in the past. True, it might not have the relevance which some think it has, but it will be relevant in other ways. After all, everyone believes that some NT texts have already been fulfilled, right? Like Mark 10:45? Does that make them irrelevant for us today?
The lovely law - 20 May 2009
According to Jesus, the two greatest commandments are both about love – love for God and love for neighbour (Matthew 22:36-40).
People sometimes misunderstand what Jesus is saying here. They wrongly imagine that he is doing away with the category of law as such, and replacing it with love: ‘The Old Testament taught about law; Jesus taught about love.’
The problem with this ought to be obvious. The Bible commands us to love. Consequently, if commandments as a category are now to be abandoned, then by the same token love is lost as well. Listen to John Frame:
Scripture clearly makes love a command of God. That fact immediately rules out any opposition or antithesis between love and commandments in general. Any arguments directed against the keeping of commandments in general carry equal weight against the keeping of the love commandment specifically. But in an ethic governed by Scripture, such arguments carry no weight at all. (Frame, Doctrine of the Christian Life, pp. 194-195)
The relationship between law and love works equally the other way. Not only does the Bible command us to love; it also tells us that true love is necessarily expressed in obedience to God’s commands. For example:
You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. (Deuteronomy 6:5-6)
Frame again: ‘Jesus says that those who love him will keep his commands’ (p. 195; cf. John 14; 1 John 2; 5; 2 John).
An extraordinary man - 4 May 2009
Last Saturday I had the privilege of spending 6 hours in the company of a small crowd of enthusiastic Christians talking about the life and work of Jonathan Edwards.
Many thanks to all who came for a warm welcome and a wonderfully thought-provoking day.
Here’s an outline of what I meant to say.
And here are a few very brief tasters:
Edwards was extraordinary. By many estimates, he was the most acute early American philosopher and the most brilliant of all American theologians. At least three of his many works – Religious Affections, Freedom of the Will, and The Nature of True Virtue – stand as masterpieces in the larger history of Christian literature. (George Marsden, Jonathan Edwards: A Life, p. 1)
I think the notion of liberty, consisting in a contingent self-determination of the will, as necessary to the morality of men’s dispositions and actions [...] almost inconceivably pernicious. (Edwards to John Erskine, 1757)
Thus it appears, if we consider matters strictly, there is no such thing as any identity or oneness in created objects, existing at different times, but what depends on God’s sovereign constitution. And so it appears, that the objection [...] is built on a false hypothesis: for it appears, that a divine constitution is the thing which makes truth, in affairs of this nature. (Edwards, Original Sin, p. 404)
If it be so, that true religion lies much in the affections, hence we may infer, that such means are to be desired, as have much of a tendency to move the affections. Such books, and such a way of preaching the Word, and administration of ordinances, and such a way of worshiping God in prayer, and singing praises, is much to be desired, as has a tendency deeply to affect the hearts of those who attend these means. (Edwards, Religious Affections, p. 121)
The inadequacy of law - 23 April 2009
The every-insightful Jam Cary speaks a lot of sense about the inadequacy of law, and the corresponding necessity of the gospel, to restrain evil and promote the good.
Living by faith - 22 April 2009
One of the reasons why Psalm 22 is so pastorally helpful is that the glorious conquest of the gospel reflected in the second half of the Psalm is expressed as a future hope, seen from the context of present suffering. Notice the shift to the future tense in v. 22 onwards: ‘I will tell’ (v. 22); ‘the afflicted shall eat … those who seek him shall praise’ (v. 26); ‘all the ends of the earth shall remember’ (v. 27); and so on. This contrasts markedly with the Psalmist’s present suffering earlier in the poem: ‘I cry’ (v. 1); ‘I am a worm’ (v. 6); ‘I am poured out’ (v. 14). Consequently, Psalm 22 provides a biblical window on the right way to express our expectancy of the future triumph of God’s kingdom in a time when we experience (in our little corner of the world) so little of it.
Perhaps the most obvious facet of the Psalm’s teaching in this connection is that the hope, though still future, is undimmed. The fact that it is not yet experienced does not make it any less certain. Nor does it make the vision of the future any less magnificent, or the anticipated extent of God’s rule any less total. The Psalm teaches us to believe what God has said about his Son’s triumph, even though we don’t (yet) see it as clearly as one day we will, and even though our present trials sometimes make it hard to believe that the world is headed in the right direction.
To live like this is to live by faith, in the sense that it is to believe what God has said about the future while that future is still unseen. Faith in the Bible, though sometimes connected with believing in what is intrinsically invisible (God, for example), is also often connected with believing in what is now invisible only because it hasn’t yet happened. Think for example of the future blessings to which the heroes of faith looked forward in Hebrews 11. Faith is thus confidence in the future manifestation of a victory already accomplished.
A spiritual banquet - 20 April 2009
Matthew Mason has written an excellent article on John Calvin’s theology of the Lord’s Supper. It was published in Churchman 117.4 (2003), pp. 329-346, and is now available online.
Here’s a potted version:
Whereas many believers neglect the Lord’s Supper (maybe because we’re [rightly] suspicious of Roman Catholic or Anglo-Catholic sacramentalism, or maybe because we [wrongly] regard it simply as a dispensable memorial), Calvin held it in high esteem, arguing that ‘the Lord’s table should have been spread at least once a week for the assembly of Christians’ (p. 329, quoting Calvin), since (contra Zwingli) it is not merely a memorial, but also ‘a banquet, whereby we feed on Christ’ (p. 334).
This doesn’t mean that we feed on Christ physically (contra Luther and Rome). Christ is seated in heaven; he’s not ‘in’ the bread and wine. Rather, ‘we are united to him by his Spirit,’ who ‘raises us up to heaven to feed spiritually on Christ’ (p. 337) by faith.
A double feeding takes place: ‘our souls are fed by the flesh and blood of Christ in the same way that bread and wine keep and sustain physical life’ (p. 337, quoting Calvin).
When we eat, we ‘participate’ in the body and blood of Christ. As the Apostle Paul says:
The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? (1 Corinthians 10:16)
Pragmatism is traditionalism - 6 April 2009
In an earlier post, I noted Tuchman’s criticism of the realpolitik of the Rennaisance papacy under Julius II, whereby the Pope pursued what he regarded as good ends by what could only be regarded as corrupt means. Tuchman argues that under such circumstances ‘the process of gaining power employs means that degrade or brutalize the seeker, who wakes up to find that power has been possessed at the price of virtue – or moral purpose – lost’ (March of Folly, p. 103).
It’s worth pausing for a moment to ask why such pragmatism is such a bad idea. In one sense, pragmatism per se is OK. It’s fine to do things that work. The problem lies with pragmatism as a guide to moral decisions, resting on the (often unstated) dichotomy between ends and means, which in turn relies on the assumption that ends are morally significant whereas means (in themselves) are not.
This dichotomy, together with the assumption that underlies it, are unbiblical because the Bible speaks with complete authority and sufficient clarity on all the moral aspects of every decision we ever face. To deny this is to imply that God has left us in the dark about moral issues that matter to him. It is an attempt to ‘fence off’ some areas of human existence from the lordship of Christ, to claim that there are large slices of our lives where we can do what we like, where our Creator can safely be ignored.
The Bible knows no moral distinction between ends and means. A sinful action can never be justified on the grounds that it was a means to some other end, however laudable that end might be. The Bible just says, ‘Don’t sin’, and that’s the end of it.
In practice, this kind of pragmatism rejects Scripture as a guide to conduct, replacing it with whatever-we-think-works. In effect, it is a form of traditionalism, for it allows the word of God to be displaced by human conventions, human experience and human wisdom. And Jesus had some pretty uncompromising things to say about that.
Wrong motives - 26 March 2009
2 Samuel 24 says that ‘the LORD … incited David’ (v. 1) to take a census of the Israelites, an action that David later recognised (rightly) as sinful (v. 10). This text raises in a very pointed form one of the hardest questions in Christian theology (a question most commonly asked by inquisitive, thoughtful young Christians): How can God be sovereign over evil – indeed, cause people to commit evil acts – without himself being morally responsible for the evil committed?
Among the many things that might be said here, one important factor to bear in mind is that the LORD has different motives in causing people to commit such actions than the people themselves have in performing them. The (sinful) people intend evil, and their actions are therefore sinful; the LORD intends only good, and his actions are therefore holy. As Joseph said of his brothers’ wickedness: ‘you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good’ (Genesis 50:20).
Isaiah 9-10 helpfully draws attention to the importance of motives in determining the sinfulness or otherwise of an action.
Here the LORD promises to raise up Assyria as an agent of judgment against the wicked Northern Kingdom of Israel (10:5-6). The LORD acts righteously in doing this – consider the multitude of Israel’s sins in 9:8-10:4.
Yet at the same time the LORD threatens judgment against Assyria also (10:16-19) for the sinfulness of her (divinely appointed!) military campaign against Israel. For while the LORD’s motives are just and holy, Assyria is acting with very different motives:
He does not so intend … he says, “By the strength of my hand I have done it, and by my wisdom” (10:7, 13; cf. 15).
Thus the LORD’s (righteous) motives leave him morally blameless in decreeing Assyria’s conquest of Israel, which (because of Assyria’s unrighteous motives) leaves them morally culpable.
Building God’s City - 22 March 2009
John M. Frame, The Doctrine of the Christian Life. Chapter 45: What Is Culture?
Crystal clear, relentlessly logical, delightfully understated. How can anyone not love John Frame?
Scripture does not contain a definition of culture. (p. 854)
We use the term culture to describe anything that human beings work at to achieve. (p. 854)
We should make an important distinction between creation and culture. Creation is what God makes; culture is what we make. … Or, somewhat better: creation is what God makes by himself, and culture is what he makes through us. (p. 854)
Culture is not a creation, but something that God has commanded, or “mandated,” us to make. … (Gen. 1:28). … the “cultural mandate”. … This command governed everything Adam and Eve would do thereafter. It defines the very purpose of human life. (p. 854)
As we go back and look again at the various definitions of culture that people have offered, we can see that there is almost always a value element, a normative element. (p. 856)
Culture always involves evaluation, a common understanding, not only of what is, but also of what is good and right. (p. 857)
So now we can see how culture is related to religion. When we talk about values and ideals, we are talking about religion. … Culture and cult go together. (p. 858)
Every worldview, every philosophy, even if it professes to be nonreligious, has this totalitarian influence on human life, and, followed consistently, will dictate a certain kind of culture. Culture, therefore, is never religiously neutral. Everything in culture expresses and communicates a religious conviction; either faith in the true God or denial of him. (p. 858)
There are some kinds of goodness even in pagan culture. [These are products of] common grace, nonsaving grace. (p. 860)
The other source of goodness, of course, is God’s special grace, his work of saving the world through Christ. This work of God goes far beyond common grace. (p. 861)
Does God’s saving grace make an impact on culture? Certainly it does. When you believe in Jesus, your whole life changes direction … Whether you eat, or drink, or whatever you do, you seek to do it for God’s glory. (p. 861)
The gospel, you see, is not only a message for individuals, telling them how to avoid God’s wrath. It is also a message about a kingdom, a society, a new community, and new covenant, a new family, a new nation, a new way of life, and, therefore, a new culture. God calls us to build a city of God, a New Jerusalem. (p. 861-862)
The two Johns - 19 March 2009
One of John Frame’s most significant contributions to Reformed theology, to my mind, is his application of perspectivalism to pretty much everything that crosses his path. Here’s a rough summary, with application to ethics:
I call these three ‘perspectives’ normative (the law), situational (the facts, the world), and existential (the person). The normative perspective studies Scripture as the moral law that applies to situations and persons … The situational perspective studies the world as a field of ethical action … The existential perspective studies the ethical subject – his griefs, his happiness, his capacities for making decisions (Frame, Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, pp. 74-75).
Though each perspective covers the same ground and will lead to the same conclusions, they nonetheless do so with different emphases, shedding light on different aspects of the issue under consideration.
Another John (Calvin, this time), sees a similar (though perhaps not identical) relationship between our knowledge of something ‘out there’ (God) and our (existential?) knowledge of ourselves. These two aspects of human knowledge are interdependent, in the sense that each sheds light on the other.
The knowledge of ourselves not only arouses us to seek God, but also, as it were, leads us by the hand to find him …
Man never achieves a clear knowledge of himself unless he has first looked upon God’s face … For we always seem to ourselves righteous and upright and wise and holy – this pride is innate in all of us – unless by clear proofs we stand convinced of our own unrighteousness, foulness, folly, and impurity. Moreover, we are not thus convinced if we look merely to ourselves and not also to the Lord, who is the sole standard by which this judgment must be measured. (Institutes, I.i.1-2)
This observation implies (among other things) an intriguing methodological conclusion: Calvin and Frame think in very similar ways without expressing themselves in the same terms. It would be easy to leap to the conclusion that Frame is onto something novel and quirky, merely on the grounds that he expresses things in a new way. In fact, Calvin was singing from the same hymn-sheet, just in a different language.
Disciple what? - 12 March 2009
The Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20) is often read (rightly) as a charge to get on with evangelism. But there’s more to it than that. Here’s what it says:
And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations (matheteusate panta ta ethne), baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’ (Matthew 28:18-20)
The Greek text of Matthew 28:19 (matheteusate panta ta ethne) should be translated, ‘disciple all the nations’, with ‘all the nations’ as the object of the verb. And it means exactly what it says.
Think about that for a moment.
If our Lord had wanted his followers merely to disciple people from every nation, there would have been at least three different ways of saying it, but Jesus chose none of them.
(FWIW, they are ek with the genitive [cf. Galatians 2:15; Revelation 5:9; 7:9; 11:9], en with the dative [cf. Acts 10:35], or apo with the genitive [cf. Acts 2:5; 15:19]).
As it stands, however, Matthew 28:19 is quite clear: the nations are to be discipled, as anticipated by the Abrahamic covenant (cf. Genesis 22:18).
This obviously entails that people within the nations are to be discipled, but it envisages more than this. Nations, as nations, will learn to conduct themselves in all their affairs (legal, political, economic, social, etc.) in obedience to the Lord.
John Owen got the hang of it:
The great promise of Christ is, that in these latter days of the world he will lay the nations in a subserviency to him, the kingdoms of the world shall become his; that is, act as kingdoms and governments no longer against him, but for him. (Owen, ‘Christ’s Kingdom and the Magistrate’s Power’, Works 8:390)
That is what is meant, properly speaking, by ‘A Christian Nation’.
That ain’t forgiveness - 6 March 2009
A while back, the Vatican revisited its previous verdict on John Lennon’s 1966 jibe that the Beatles were ‘more popular than Jesus’. The announcement was made back in November 2008 in the Vatican newspaper Osservatore Romano, which said:
The remark by John Lennon, which triggered deep indignation mainly in the United States, after many years sounds only like a ‘boast’ by a young working-class Englishman faced with unexpected success, after growing up in the legend of Elvis and rock and roll.
I’m not sure exactly what the Vatican says this is, but it certainly is not forgiveness. This is revising the original estimate of the bad-ness of Lennon’s words (which may or may not be the right thing to do): ‘We used to think it was wicked, but we’ve changed our minds – it wasn’t so bad after all.’
That ain’t forgiveness.
Forgivenesss leaves the verdict of ‘wicked’ on the deed itself intact. It doesn’t redefine the action as ‘non-sinful’, but instead announces that the offence has been covered over, and the verdict reversed, whilst simultaneously insisting that it was a sin, and it would still be a sin if you did it again.
Forgiveness (well, God’s forgiveness, anyway) isn’t a make-believe re-write of history, with all the nasty bits rubbed out. God lets history stand intact, full of the glaring horror of human wickedness, and at the same time declares, ‘I won’t count that against you. Or that. Or that. Or even that.’
Next Entries »Blessed are those whose lawless deeds are forgiven, and whose sins are covered; blessed is the man against whom the Lord will not count his sin. (Romans 4:7-8)