Chris Krycho - Theologyhttp://v4.chriskrycho.com/2019-10-21T08:55:00-04:00Sympolymathesy, or: v5.chriskrycho.comhttps://v4.chriskrycho.com/2019/sympolymathesy-or-v5chriskrychocom.html2019-11-18T20:00:00.000-07:00<p><i><b><a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/assumed-audiences.html">Assumed Audience</a>:</b> literally every single subscriber of this blog!</i></p>
<p>(I apologize if you’re seeing this in multiple feeds, if you are one of the people subscribed to more than one sub-feed on this site. I needed to make sure *all* my subscribers saw this.)</p>
<p>I’ve just officially launched v5.chriskrycho.com, “Sympolymathesy”. As such, this is the final post on this site! For all the details, check out <a href="https://v5.chriskrycho.com/journal/relaunch!/">the relaunch post</a>!</p>Chris Krychohello@chriskrycho.comhttps://www.chriskrycho.comReview: What is an Evangelical2019-10-21T08:55:00-04:002019-10-21T08:55:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2019-10-21:/2019/review-what-is-an-evangelical.htmlRecommended: A short and accessible history of “evangelicalism.”
<p><i class=editorial>I keep my book review ratings simple—they’re either <em>required</em>, <em>recommended</em>, <em>recommended with qualifications</em>, or <em>not recommended</em>. If you want the TL;DR, this is it:</i></p>
<p><strong>Recommended:</strong> Thomas Kidd’s <cite>What is an Evangelical?</cite> is a short and accessible history of “evangelicalism”: where it came from and how it developed into the multifaceted movement it is today, including but very much not limited to its political engagement. Even-handed and well-researched, but accessible – you don’t have to be a religious history buff to follow this (and if you are it’ll probably be a lot you already know). The book’s biggest weakness, sadly, is Kidd’s prose: it gets the job done, but gets pretty monotonous. That aside, this is a great introductory history of the movement that is such a cause of political consternation.</p>
Christology: God With Us and For Us2019-08-11T20:15:00-04:002019-09-01T17:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2019-08-11:/2019/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us.htmlFor the four Sundays starting today, I’m teaching a class at [our church], “Christology: God With Us and For Us”. If you like, you can check out the notes or recordings.
<p><i><b><a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/assumed-audiences.html">Assumed Audience</a>:</b> orthodox (note the little ‘o’!) Christians. You’re of course very welcome to dig into this material if you are <em>not</em> a Christian, but it’s a Sunday School class, so I’m not addressing non-Christians!</i></p>
<p><i class=editorial><b>Updated September 1, 2019:</b> added <abbr>EPUB</abbr> and <abbr>PDF</abbr> links at the bottom of the post, as well as direct links to each class page on the Forestgate website.</i></p>
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<p>For the four Sundays starting today, I’m teaching a class at <a href="https://forestgate.org">our church</a>, “Christology: God With Us and For Us”. The summary for the class:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The topic of Christology probably sounds important, but it might also seem a little abstract or heady. But—as Colossians and Hebrews and many saints along the years will help us see—while Christology is indeed a feast for our minds, it is also comfort for our weary souls, because it’s our truest, deepest, richest picture of God’s love for us. By God’s grace, we’ll all come out encouraged by Jesus the Son’s work on our behalf, and stirred up to love and worship him more!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>If you’re interested, you can find each week’s notes and audio on the <a href="https://forestgate.org/sunday-school/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us">dedicated page for the class</a> (as on <a href="https://forestgate.org/sunday-school/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us/2019/8/11/week-1-introduction-and-the-eternal-son">the page for today’s lesson</a>), or you can follow along by subscribing in any podcast player in the teaching and sermons feed I set up for these kinds of things a few years ago:</p>
<ul>
<li><a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/sermons-by-chris-krycho/id1083193863">Apple Podcasts</a></li>
<li><a href="https://overcast.fm/itunes1083193863/teaching-and-sermons-by-chris-krycho">Overcast</a></li>
<li><a href="https://pca.st/slox">Pocket Casts</a></li>
<li><a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/sermons.xml">RSS</a></li>
</ul>
<p>If you prefer to read, you can see the full text I prepared (<em>not</em> identical with what I said: I extemporize!) at the pages for each day of teaching:</p>
<ul>
<li><a href="https://forestgate.org/sunday-school/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us/2019/8/11/week-1-introduction-and-the-eternal-son">Week 1</a></li>
<li><a href="https://forestgate.org/sunday-school/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us/2019/8/18/week-2-israels-messiah-and-the-incarnation">Week 2</a></li>
<li><a href="https://forestgate.org/sunday-school/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us/2019/8/25/week-3-suffering-and-death-and-the-resurrection">Week 3</a></li>
<li><a href="https://forestgate.org/sunday-school/christology-god-with-us-and-for-us/2019/9/1/week-4-ascension-session-and-return-qampa">Week 4</a></li>
</ul>
<p>You can also download the full text for all four weeks:</p>
<ul>
<li><a href="https://cdn.chriskrycho.com/file/chriskrycho-com/teaching/Christology.pdf"><abbr>PDF</abbr></a></li>
<li><a href="https://cdn.chriskrycho.com/file/chriskrycho-com/teaching/Christology.epub"><abbr>EPUB</abbr></a></li>
<li><a href="https://cdn.chriskrycho.com/file/chriskrycho-com/teaching/Christology.docx">Word</a></li>
</ul>
<p>(Note that, per my <a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2016/dont-be-a-brand.html">standing principle</a> of avoiding self-promotion and branding, this is the only time I’ll post about this series.)</p>
Review: Retrieving Eternal Generation2019-07-16T08:05:00-04:002019-07-16T08:05:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2019-07-16:/2019/review-retrieving-eternal-generation.htmlRequired: Most anthologies of essays are hit and miss. This one… isn’t.
<p><i class=editorial>I keep my book review ratings simple—they’re either <em>required</em>, <em>recommended</em>, <em>recommended with qualifications</em>, or <em>not recommended</em>. If you want the TL;DR, this is it:</i></p>
<p><strong>Required:</strong> <cite>Retrieving Eternal Generation</cite>, edited by Fred Sanders and Scott R. Swain, is a collection of essays defending the doctrine of eternal generation from recent criticism (“recent” meaning the last half century or more) and aiming to show how the traditional, creedal, catholic<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> articulation of the relationship of the Father and the Son is indeed <em>correct</em>. Surprisingly even for an anthology volume, and in my view quite effective in achieving its aims: most anthologies of essays end up being a very mixed bag. Even given my long-standing appreciation of Fred Sanders, I was not expecting <cite>Retrieving Eternal Generation</cite> to be an exception to that nearly iron-clad rule. Every essay brings something distinctive to the table and its theological scholarship is of the best sort: simultaneously engaged with current research programs and the Great Tradition of the church… while still being readable. This is for theology nerds, but it should absolutely be required reading if you <em>are</em> a theology nerd.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
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<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Note the little ‘c’ here: ‘catholic’ as in <i>universal</i>.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩︎</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Review: All That’s Good2019-07-16T08:00:00-04:002019-07-16T08:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2019-07-16:/2019/review-all-thats-good.htmlRecommended: Hannah Anderson’s All That’s Good is a popular theological treatment of the idea of “discernment”. The first several chapters are worth the price of the book; after that, it’s *fine* but not *amazing*, and seemed very much a product of the demands of the publishing industry (it read like "This could use a relatively basic exposition of the fruit of the Spirit to appeal more/fill out the page count"). Nonetheless, recommended in general and probably a very valuable book for women’s groups (to whom it seems targeted)—men would benefit equally, but the marketing will likely make that a harder sell.
<p><i class=editorial>I keep my book review ratings simple—they’re either <em>required</em>, <em>recommended</em>, <em>recommended with qualifications</em>, or <em>not recommended</em>. If you want the TL;DR, this is it:</i></p>
<p><strong>Recommended:</strong> Hannah Anderson’s <cite>All That’s Good</cite> is a popular theological treatment of the idea of “discernment”. The first several chapters are worth the price of the book; after that, it’s <em>fine</em> but not <em>amazing</em>, and seemed very much a product of the demands of the publishing industry (it read like “This could use a relatively basic exposition of the fruit of the Spirit to appeal more/fill out the page count”). Nonetheless, recommended in general and probably a very valuable book for women’s groups (to whom it seems targeted)—men would benefit equally, but the marketing will likely make that a harder sell.</p>
Heresies2019-04-22T20:00:00-04:002019-04-22T20:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2019-04-22:/2019/heresies.htmlFor all that heresies always plague the church, I find comfort in seeing how she has—by the grace of God—endured them and grown to truth by countering them.
<p><i><b><a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/assumed-audiences.html">Assumed Audience</a>:</b> People up for hearing a brief take on the history of the Christian confessions of faith—and why their long history gives me hope today.</i></p>
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<p><i>I wrote this as a <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/1120501091588890630">tweet storm</a> originally—not something I do often, but something I’ve decided to do <em>occasionally</em> just to keep things interesting for my very weird mix of a Twitter audience. As usual, though, my blog is the “source of truth” for my internet presence, so here we are.</i></p>
<p>Most heresies, so far as I can see, are effectively elevating one Christian doctrine over another, rather than doing the hard work to see how they hold together. One of the things I appreciate about the ecumenical church is how hard they worked to confess <em>all</em> God’s truth.</p>
<p>The Trinitarian creeds are master-works in saying <em>yes</em> to things that at first blush don’t fit together, and saying <em>no</em> to things that at first blush seem necessary for one or another of those “yes”es to hold. My favorite of these is in the Chalcedonian Definition (the whole thing is 😍, but this set of affirmations and negations especially):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We, then, following the holy fathers, all with one consent, teach men to confess one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the same perfect in Godhead and also perfect in manhood; truly God and truly man, of a reasonable soul and body; consubstantial with the Father according to the Godhead, and consubstantial with us according to the Manhood; in all things like unto us, without sin; begotten before all ages according to the Godhead, and in these latter days, for us and for our salvation, born of the Virgin Mary, the Mother of God, according to the Manhood; one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, to be acknowledged in two natures; inconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably; the distinction of natures being by no means taken away by the union, but rather the property of each nature being preserved, and concurring in one Person and one Subsistence, not parted or divided into two persons, but one and the Son, and only begotten, (5/6) God the Word, the Lord Jesus Christ, as the prophets from the beginning have declared concerning him, and the Lord Jesus Christ himself has taught us, and the Creed of the holy Fathers has handed down to us.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>They worked for literally <em>centuries</em> to hammer that out—trying to avoid veering into first this ditch and then that, some of them getting it wrong one way and some another; but they kept coming back to the same deep well of truth and seeking to confess it <em>rightly</em>.</p>
<p>I find hope here not only in that they <em>did</em> eventually learn to confess these core elements of the Christian faith aright, but also in that they did <em>eventually</em> learn it. It took time and prayer, faithfulness in the faith, and by the grace of the God we confess, they got there. So when I see God’s people—me included—stumbling around in folly today, it’s a good reminder: so it has always been. But the same Spirit that—as the church has for two thousand years confessed—raised Jesus from the dead* is at work in the church still. And that’s good news.</p>
Social Media, Remote Work, and Vocation2019-03-23T16:25:00-04:002019-03-23T16:25:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2019-03-23:/2019/social-media-remote-work-and-vocation.htmlA meditation on embodiment and calling, attention and social media and physical presence—inspired by seeing many friends at EmberConf.
<p><i><b><a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/assumed-audiences.html">Assumed Audience</a>:</b> Anyone interested in changing dynamics around work, especially “remote” work as enabled by the internet.</i></p>
<p>I spent the week with a bunch of internet friends at <a href="https://emberconf.com">EmberConf</a>—and I have been mulling (yet more) on the dynamics of social media, embodiment, attention, and presence. This is the content of my <a href="https://buttondown.email/chriskrycho">email newsletter</a> for the week—not my normal habit, but this piece lives in both worlds, I think.</p>
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<p>I spend a non-trivial part of my day every work day in “closed” social media spaces: a handful of community Slack organizations and my work Slack, a couple of open source software Discord communities, and a Twist subscription where Stephen and I coordinate our <a href="https://winningslowly.org">Winning Slowly</a>. I still use Twitter—but decreasingly so: I pop on once or twice a day, skim through my feed, and close it out. I almost never use Facebook at all: it simply stopped being useful <em>at all</em> in the last few years. I check LinkedIn… mostly because my day job is to support that app. I never use <em>any</em> other social media anymore—Instagram I dropped years ago; others are dead (App.net) or never caught on for me past an initial experiment (Ello).</p>
<p>Going to EmberConf highlighted for me both the deep value of those platforms and their stark limitations. The deep value, because I spent a lot of time this week with people I have come to consider colleagues and indeed friends. Their stark limitations, because for all that we spend a great deal of time conversing with each other online—planning, arguing, helping each other, joking—there is something profoundly different, profoundly <em>better</em>, about standing or sitting by from someone and hearing their words (not merely reading them). We are embodied beings and disembodied interactions simply are not the same.</p>
<p>I am increasingly a proponent, and a loud one, for remote work. I have worked remotely myself for over six years now: over half my career to date. I have said often in the past few years that remote work is now a non-negotiable for me: it is too important in my family life for me to do otherwise. Remote work is profoundly empowering in many ways. It enables me to collaborate with peers around the country and around the world. It gives me more time, by way of eliminating a commute. It affords me the ability to simply turn off the distractions and work deeply.</p>
<p>Perhaps most valuable of all to me, it allows me to be present with my family—to have been there as my daughters learned to walk and to speak; to be able, when my dear wife needed a break from the potty-training, to <em>give her that break</em>; to give both my wife and my daughters my attention when they need it (and not only in hours deemed convenient by an employer)—in short to give those I love most what they deserve from me.</p>
<p>I will not willingly give up those benefits.</p>
<p>But notice: it is precisely a matter of my <em>presence</em> that is at issue here. The difference is not in whether my embodied nature matters, but where it matters most. I am grateful for my various remote employers these past few years, and I aim (and have aimed) always to honor my employers by doing my best work for them. But I owe no employer the hours or the attention that belong first of all to my family.</p>
<p>We speak sometimes of “vocation”—but mean by it almost always “our mode of employment.” The word means more than that. My callings are manifold and pluriform, and so are yours. I am first of all a follower of Jesus: the calling that shapes all the others. I am then one of God’s people, then a husband, then a father, then a son and brother, then a friend, then an employee. (If that ordering seems odd, well, it always has: even to Jesus’ first followers.) My vocations are broader and deeper than merely “a man who writes software for LinkedIn” (glad though I am of that one)—and the others, rightly understood, demand much more of me than does my career.</p>
<p>I am glad, therefore, of Slack and Discord, and to some degree even of Twitter (and, at times in the past, Facebook also). I have made friends there and done good work there. I am likewise grateful for the tools that make remote work possible. But I must not mistake those social media and tools for the truer goods for which they cannot substitute: sharing good food and drink with each other, and living out <em>all</em> our callings in the places where we find ourselves.</p>
A Christmas Homily2018-12-25T08:40:00-05:002018-12-25T08:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-12-25:/2018/a-christmas-homily.htmlA little meditation on Advent from Hebrews and Gregory of Nazianzus.<p>Merry Christmas! Have a little homily from me!</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Now since the children have flesh and blood in common, Jesus also shared in these, so that through His death He might destroy the one holding the power of death—that is, the Devil—and free those who were held in slavery all their lives by the fear of death. (Heb. 2:14–15 HSCB)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As Gregory Nazianzus reflected, centuries later: “…that which He has not assumed He has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved.” And the good news is that he united <em>everything</em> about our humanity to His Godhead: he heals and saves everything of us.</p>
<p>So happy day! We remember the first Advent of God the Son, and look with hope for the second, when there will be no more tears, no more sorrow, no more war, no more death.</p>
<p>Grace and peace to you all. Merry Christmas.</p>
Dealing With Burnout In Public2018-08-20T07:00:00-04:002018-08-20T07:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-08-20:/2018/dealing-with-burnout-in-public.htmlIf I'm going to go through burnout, it might as well be a help to others. Especially if I can offer a more thoroughly Christian view of burnout than much of what I see in either secular *or* Christian literature on the subject.
<p>For the last several months, I’ve been experiencing what I <a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/some-mild-burnout.html" title="Some Mild Burnout">initially described</a> as <em>mild burnout</em>. I’m not sure how mild it is at this point, but I’m definitely still experiencing it. As a result, I’m still thinking about how to mitigate it, minimize the length of it, and not least to walk through it well as a Christian.</p>
<p>One of my aims–we will see how this plays out, but it is an aim–is to walk through this experience of burnout as publicly as seems appropriate. My reason is basically the same as I noted at the end of the post where I first noted publicly my experience of burnout. Seeing that others have gone through this, and seeing what helped them, can sometimes be a help to us as we walk through things. My experience won’t totally generalize. Some of the things I conclude aren’t going to stick for others because they reject my priors–more on that in a moment. But nonetheless, having something of a public record of dealing with something like this seems to me to be a broadly good thing if it’s done well. I hope to do it well. (I also hope you’ll bear with me insofar as I don’t!)</p>
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<p>I noted that one of my interests is in what it looks like to walk through burnout as a Christian, specifically. This seems to be an interesting and relatively open topic. Most of the literature I’ve bumped into on the subject is explicitly secular, and it uses language and approaches I find <em>partial</em> at best and <em>outright wrong</em> at worst. I have a good resource paper to work through from my pastor–who, in God’s providence, wrote an academic research paper on the question for part of his D. Min. work–and I expect to be leaning a fair bit on the things I find there and in further secondary resources.</p>
<p>At the same time, if my experience watching my wife walk through serious clinical depression over the last decade is any guide, there is a lot yet to be thought through and written about in this space. Nearly all the material I’ve encountered on depression in that time–<em>not</em> all, but nearly all–misses the boat in one way or another. On just one of the many poles: the approaches tend either to wholly medicalize depression, or to throw medical factors out the window. Both of these responses seem to me very specifically <em>sub</em>-Christian in their view of the human person.</p>
<p>So likewise does much of the literature I have found on burnout so far. The language of “self-care,” for example, is well-intentioned and much of the advice that comes with it is good. (I’ll try to unpack some of that at some point.) Yet I also think that framing does as much harm as good. My response to burnout is not merely a matter of taking care of myself as though my being happy and healthy is an end in and of itself. Rather, in a Christian frame, I ought to think in terms of <em>wisely stewarding my body and mind</em>–a very different thing. The language of “stewardship” implies the end of the things I choose to do and not to do: not merely my own well-being, but my being able to steadfastly and faithfully honor God and serve the church and love all those around me well (Christian and non-Christian alike!).</p>
<p>This is not merely a semantic game. The language we use, the way we choose to frame our lives, <em>matters</em>. Self-care is about me. Stewardship involves me but is not about me.</p>
<p>On the other hand, much of the Christian discussion of issues like depression or burnout seems (curiously) narrow in its understanding of how to treat these problems. They are very often reduced simply to a question of one’s faith: if one were only more intent on taking joy in salvation, this problem would go away. To which I say: <em>have you read the Psalms?</em> And more: <em>have you read Genesis 3?</em> And not least: <em>have you read the gospels?</em> When above I described what I have read as “sub-Christian,” I had these kinds of things in mind no less than the more “secular” advice. This kind of advice–to pray more and read one’s Bible more and repent of sin more–is not wrong, but it is desperately incomplete. When “seek joy more!” is <em>all</em> that is on offer, what is evidenced is an impoverished anthropology, a view of human nature that forgets our physicality or diminishes it to an ancillary to the <em>real</em>, spiritual self; and which fails to grasp the ways our brokenness is not merely a matter of our choices but also of the world we encounter and the bodies and minds we find ourselves bearing as their own kinds of crosses in this age.</p>
<p>My own thoughts here are still nascent in many ways, though already shaped in many ways by the experience of watching my wife bear up well under her own burdens these last ten years. But I hope that as I trace them out–and also simply explain <em>how things are</em>–that it will be helpful and encouraging to some other travelers along this particularly thorny way.</p>
Imprecatory Psalms and Comfort for Weary Souls2018-08-08T07:00:00-04:002018-08-08T07:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-08-08:/2018/imprecatory-psalms-and-comfort-for-weary-souls.htmlPsalm 94 shows us what to pray and how to pray, even when our circumstances are not so dire as enemies trying to murder us.<p>I read Psalm 94 in my devotions this morning—one of the “imprecatory psalms” which prays for God to judge the wicked. After the last couple days I’ve had, I joked with my wife that I was praying it against Microsoft Windows.</p>
<p>The imprecatory content of the psalm is a deep well I shall not plumb today; in any case Windows is not an “enemy” the way the psalmist meant it. The thing I noticed as I reflected on the psalm, though, was how much it did that <em>is</em> good and right for me to imitate. This is not merely a prayer for God to deliver from oppression and to right wrongs. It is also a prayer that simultaneously demonstrates and practices trust in God: <em>demonstrates</em>, because only one who trusts God can pray like this; and <em>practices</em>, because the act of prayer is the necessary outworking of that trust. This is the right model for us whatever our circumstances—including for me, in the midst of some burnout and some particularly deep frustrations with the <a href="http://bib.ly/Ge3.17-19" title="Genesis 3:17–19">thorns and thistles</a> of work and labor in this life.</p>
<p>Put more directly: If a man facing enemies of the murderous sort could say “When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ / your steadfast love, oh <span class="divine-name">Lord</span>, held me up. // When the cares of my heart are many, / your consolations cheer my soul,” then I can—and must—say the same with him.</p>
How Do Virtue Ethics Arise From Metaphysics?2018-07-14T10:15:00-04:002018-07-14T10:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-07-14:/2018/how-do-virtue-ethics-arise-from-metaphysics.html<p>Context: I’ve just picked back up Shannon Vallor’s <em>Technology and the Virtues</em> about a month away from it (since my <a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/good-arguments.html" title="Good Arguments—Learning a great deal by disagreeing with an excellent interlocutor — and thinking hard “out loud.”">last post about it</a>). And in light of a number of things I’ve been thinking about over the last month,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> I’m trying to publish short …</p><p>Context: I’ve just picked back up Shannon Vallor’s <em>Technology and the Virtues</em> about a month away from it (since my <a href="https://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/good-arguments.html" title="Good Arguments—Learning a great deal by disagreeing with an excellent interlocutor — and thinking hard “out loud.”">last post about it</a>). And in light of a number of things I’ve been thinking about over the last month,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> I’m trying to publish short thoughts on things like this as they come up. <a href="https://blog.ayjay.org/new-uses-for-old-blogs/">Blogging as gardening</a>, if you will.</p>
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<p>Vallor argues (relatively persuasively, but I confess my relative ignorance of these traditions) that Aristotelian, Confucian, and Buddhist ethics all have deep commonalities in the actual virtues they espouse and practices they endorse for the formation of those virtues, despite their sharp differences in their metaphysical priors. But—and this is, to my eye, the book’s most significant weakness—Vallor seems uninterested in what is to me an extremely important question: how and why do such different frames of viewing the world come to such (relatively!) similar conclusions about how we ought to live in it?</p>
<p>Why, in other words, does wisdom have a particular shape? Is there indeed such a thing as <em>human nature</em>—and if so, what is it and where does it come from? (As a Christian, I have thoughts on this, of course. I think there’s a good reason the wisdom/virtue traditions end up landing in similar places, and it’s because there <em>is</em> an order to the world and to human beings. But more on that later.)</p>
<p>Vallor presupposes some of this, and of course I can’t fault her for not tracing out every single one of her priors. But in a book arguing that there is indeed a basis for a shared virtue ethic we can use to work together across these traditions when confronting specific questions about technology, this <em>particular</em> omissions seems curious indeed.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>including an ironically unpublished blog post<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
“Life Hacks” Are Dumb2018-05-30T07:00:00-04:002018-05-30T07:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-05-30:/2018/life-hacks-are-dumb.htmlThe anthropology implicit in the phrase “life hacking” is dumb. What we need is wisdom.<p>I don’t know where the idea of “life hacking” first appeared, or who first coined the term, and frankly I don’t much care about the details. The phrase itself says enough. It is the stereotypical and often self-caricaturing ethos of Silicon Valley: the rejection of what has come before, only to discover/invent/disrupt it as if it were wholly new, and proclaim the glories of tech startup culture.</p>
<p>We did once have a word for the idea of being attentive to your own strengths and weaknesses, and disciplining yourself in response to this so you could accomplish the things that are truly important. We called it <em>wisdom</em>, and the pursuit of it was considered—in some circles, anyway—one of the great aims of human existence. All the great philosophical and religious traditions have had something to say about it. Many of them even find considerable concord on the sorts of practical wisdom for accomplishing goals that is an essential part of human flourishing, even as they disagree sharply about what constitutes that human flourishing!</p>
<p>But look to the tech startup scene and “wisdom” is not a word to be found in that vernacular. Instead we have “life hacks.” The anthropology here may be implicit, but it’s also obvious, and very dumb. We are not machines to be hacked. We are people, who ought to seek the good—wisely.</p>
“Cultural Marxism” and “Evangelicalism”2018-05-10T07:30:00-04:002018-05-10T07:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-05-10:/2018/cultural-marxism-and-evangelicalism.htmlWould Gramsci or Bebbington recognize your use of the terms?
<p>Alan Jacobs <a href="https://blog.ayjay.org/just-for-the-record/" title="just for the record">posted this yesterday</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>There are no ideas, no beliefs, no positions that reliably correspond to the phrase “cultural Marxism.” It is a phrase whose use is purely emotive and without denotative value.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It occurred to me that the same thing is now equally true of “evangelicalism”: both “cultural marxism” and “evangelicalism” are terms that did have specific content at one point—but, by dint of their cooptation as overly-broad descriptors used primarily in the culture wars, both have been emptied of all of that meaning and therefore utility.</p>
<p>(I’ll grant you an exception if you demonstrate that you’re actually talking in terms Gramsci or Bebbington respectively would recognize. But not otherwise.)</p>
Handling “The Liberal Order” Correctly2018-03-19T20:50:00-04:002018-03-19T20:50:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-03-19:/2018/handling-the-liberal-order-correctly.html<p>An example of handling <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/stop-saying-what-capitalism-does.html">“the liberal order”</a> <em>correctly</em>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The modern liberal order abets technology’s formative power to the degree that it disavows any strong claims about ethics and human flourishing. It is in the space of that disavowal that technology as an implicit anthropology and an implicit politics takes …</p></blockquote><p>An example of handling <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2018/stop-saying-what-capitalism-does.html">“the liberal order”</a> <em>correctly</em>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The modern liberal order abets technology’s formative power to the degree that it disavows any strong claims about ethics and human flourishing. It is in the space of that disavowal that technology as an implicit anthropology and an implicit politics takes root and expands, framing and conditioning any subsequent efforts to subject it to ethical critique. Our understanding of the human is already conditioned by our technological milieu. Fundamental to this tacit anthropology, or account of the human, is the infinite malleability of human nature. Malleable humanity is a precondition to the unfettered expansion of technology. (This is why transhumanism is the proper eschatology of our technological order. Ultimately, humanity must adapt and conform, even if it means the loss of humanity as we have known it. As explicit ideology, this may still seem like a fringe position; as implicit practice, however, it is widely adopted.)</p>
</blockquote>
Prayer Apps and Evaluating Technology2018-01-26T07:30:00-05:002018-01-26T07:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2018-01-26:/2018/prayer-apps-and-evaluating-technology.htmlI use apps for lots of things. But something about the thought of using one for my prayer life in particular made me pause and think about what it means to offload everything to an app.
<p>I use technology a <em>lot</em> to get after the goals I care about in my life. But over the last few years I’ve been thinking about, and I’m increasingly concerned about, the ways that we are shaped by our use of technology. We could generalize this discussion to all sorts of things, and I’m sure I will (though I’m also pretty sure you’d just be better off reading <a href="https://thefrailestthing.com" title="The Frailest Thing">L. M. Sacasas</a>, whom I’ve linked in this connection before). But for today, I want to just zoom in and think about this question specifically in the context of technologies we employ in the context of the Christian faith. (If you’re not a Christian, I suspect much of what I have to say here will still ring true, so don’t run off just yet.)</p>
<p>I’ve been using apps to manage my list of tasks to get through for a long time: first <a href="https://todoist.com">Todoist</a>, then <a href="https://www.omnigroup.com/omnifocus">OmniFocus</a>, and now <a href="https://culturedcode.com/things/">Things</a>. So as I’ve been wanting to develop more rigor around my prayer life, and in particular to make sure I pray for certain people and the <em>very</em> difficult circumstances they’re currently facing, it was natural to go looking for an app to manage that. And although “There’s an app for that” is no longer an Apple marketing campaign, is truer than ever it was when it <em>was</em> an Apple marketing campaign. So there are a lot of prayer apps on the App Store.</p>
<p>I snagged an app both my wife and another woman I really respect have found helpful as a tool for <em>their</em> prayer lives. And it’s been sitting there unused for a month. I launched the app once. I’ve had an item in Things for that whole time to populate it. But I haven’t.</p>
<p>The whole time the app has been sitting there on my homescreen, I’ve been stuck on this question: <em>How does this tool form me?</em></p>
<p>And this is the broader question that’s nagged at me for quite some time. How are we shaped and formed by our use of, and indeed our <em>dependence on</em>, the tools we employ to remember things, to form habits, etc.? What happens if the tool goes away? Nick Carr has written fairly extensively<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> about the effects on concentration and memory; but those merely point to a broader concern: what kind of people do we wish to form ourselves to be? And are our tools helping or hurting us in that aim? For our tools <em>do</em> form us, no less than we form them.</p>
<p>It’s not really about this (or any particular) prayer app. And I certainly don’t think it’s <em>inherently wrong</em> to use a prayer app, or anything of the sort. But it nags at me. Will I truly learn to be disciplined about prayer, or will I simply learn to be further hooked on alerts from my pocket supercomputer? If I end up praying faithfully for people, but also end up more distracted, more reliant on this little slab of metal and glass, less engaged with my family, what is the net on that? It is, at a minimum, not a clear <em>win</em>.</p>
<hr />
<p>Of course, none of these concerns are specific to prayer apps. I have been using a digital Bible for most of a decade now. I use a pomodoro timer to help my maintain my discipline and concentration throughout my work. I use <a href="http://www.bear-writer.com">Bear</a> for keeping a log of what I’ve done for work every day,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> and for jotting down writing ideas. This very post started out that way.</p>
<figure>
<img src="https://f001.backblazeb2.com/file/chriskrycho-com/images/bear-blog-idea.png" title="Bear app" alt="The note in Bear that was the germination of this blog post" /><figcaption>The note in Bear that was the germination of this blog post</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Using a digital notes app is not the same as disciplining myself to remember things. But the same concerns apply, of course, to <em>all</em> aids we employ. Using a digital notes app is not identical to using a physical notebook as a place for jotting down ideas—but they’re more similar to each other than they are to <em>not using a tool at all</em>. Both have a cost in effective, <em>active</em> memory of those ideas. On the other hand, they also have the benefit of helping us remember more ideas, and more clearly, than we would otherwise, and also of freeing us to think on and remember <em>other</em> things.</p>
<p>This also points to another of the fundamental challenges in evaluating the tools we use. We’re accustomed to thinking of many things—these days, mostly computers and computerized things—as technological and other things as sort of “natural” and “untechnological.” But of course, literally everything we do is unnatural and technological in many ways—too many to count; but for a start consider that clothing is not <em>natural</em>; it is a technology! So are books. So are forks and cups and plates. So are journals, and pencils, and pens. And those technologies all shape and form us, too.</p>
<p>Scribbling notes in a paper journal day after day will change your body and your mind; you will have calluses from holding the pen, and will know that your ideas are found in that journal. The loss of a journal filled with sketches of ideas might become a horrifying thought, because in writing down one’s ideas, one intentionally lets the paper do the work that one’s memory might have done otherwise. <em>Many</em> of those things—though by no means all—are just the same whether using a digital journal or a paper one.</p>
<p>At least in my own experience, some of the important differences include the way it feels mentally to think with a pen vs. to think with a keyboard. (I use the phrase “think with” here to emphasize what it is we’re doing either way: using the tool to help us think as well as to remember.) That difference is, so far as I can tell in considering my own thinking, not just one of <em>feel</em>, either: I write different things, in different ways, with pen and paper than I do with a keyboard. I’m a much better poet with pen and paper, for example.</p>
<p>But those differences do not void the core they share: they are memory-replacements.</p>
<hr />
<p>Not for nothing have people worried about the effects of new technologies on memory for millennia. And it is worth note: those who thought the advent of each kind of new information technology would come with costs were not wrong. Literate cultures seem inevitably to lose the power of oral recall. Members of illiterate cultures can often accomplish feats of memory that astound members of literate cultures, because they do not have books to offload their stories and histories to. The only way to keep them—and we value stories, so we <em>always</em> find a way to keep them—is to commit them to memory, and deeply. The tradeoff with books is real. The tradeoff with a physical journal is real. The tradeoff with the internet is real.</p>
<p>The question is not <em>whether</em> but <em>how</em> we will be formed by the technologies we employ—at least, unless you plan to go back to living naked, surviving off of whatever you can manage to collect with your bare hands and eat raw (fire, too, is technology, after all).</p>
<p>To narrow it further: the question is which specific shapings we find needful in our specific contexts. Perhaps, if there is a problem, it is not with a prayer app individually, or a todo app individually, or a notes app individually, but with offloading <em>all</em> of our mental tasks to a smartphone. No harm done in using a prayer app; but maybe write your to-do list on paper; and perhaps find something, anything at all, to simply <em>remember</em> to do every day.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p><a href="http://www.roughtype.com/?p=8248">Here</a>, on the smartphone, is just one of many times and places; his book <em>The Shallows</em> is perhaps the best-known and longest treatment of it.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>For my own purposes; Olo doesn’t ask anything of the sort from me; but it helps me see what I actually get done over the course of a year, and that’s pretty neat.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
On Public (Theological) Histories2017-05-07T21:15:00-04:002017-05-07T21:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2017-05-07:/2017/on-public-theological-histories.htmlIt might behoove use to take down some of our old posts after a while, and also to print the things worth keeping from our digital publishing.<p>Over the past decade—yes, a full decade, and more at this point—I have been blogging about theology. That means that at this point I have over a decade of theological thought “on record” as it were. You can look at things I wrote in 2006 and have some idea where I landed on many a theological issue, and for that matter in my slow maturation in my faith.</p>
<p>I am increasingly unsure about the tradeoffs that go with this. Being able to trace someone’s theological and personal trajectory has its upsides, in the case of significant theological figures. But I am not a significant theological figure, and even to speculate that someday I might be seems hubristic in the extreme.</p>
<p>Many of the things I have written have a great deal of standing in the eyes of Google and other search engines: they are old, have various links which point their way, and in several cases are one of only a few posts (or posts still up) on a given book. I feel—and feel the more keenly the further distant from their writing I get—the weight of responsibility for those words. They are public and they have some influence (even if small); if I mislead by leaving them online, that certainly outweighs whatever “benefit” I or someone else might find in their being online.</p>
<p>I have written and talked before about the problems of link-rot, and those problems are real. But there is also this: link-rot is a problem for content of <em>significance</em>, of <em>importance</em>. Even granting that what is significant or important to one person may be very different from what is significant or important to another, much of what I have written online certainly is neither significant nor important. Would it be so bad a thing for some random ramble—<a href="http://blog.chriskrycho.com/2007/01/dangerous-obsessions.html">this one</a>, say, from a decade ago—to go away? No. It wouldn’t.</p>
<p>Two things occur to me here:</p>
<p><strong>First</strong>, if things are worth saving, they are likely worth saving in a form that is not merely digital. <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2015/01/26/cobweb" title=""The Cobweb: Can the Internet be Archived? by Jill Lepore"">Excellent</a> as the work of the <a href="https://archive.org">Internet Archive</a> is, and diligently as any individual may work at preserving their own content (as I have to date), things do break. If Blogger shuts down, I will have archives of my old site, but if in some horrible event my machine and all its backups <em>also</em> failed… well, that content would be lost. Things truly worth keeping are probably worth keeping physically.</p>
<p>This highlights another reality, though: when you start to consider what, exactly, you consider valuable enough to <em>print</em>, you start to realize how little of value is on a website like my old blogs. That’s not to say they didn’t have value of all sorts when I originally wrote them—perhaps they did and perhaps they didn’t—but if, a decade on, you can’t see a reason to keep them around in hard copy, you might well wonder if there’s a reason to keep them around at all. More and more, I think the answer is probably <em>no</em>.</p>
<p><strong>Second</strong>, there is no reason to make this an all-or-nothing affair. There <em>are</em> things in the murky depths of my web history I’d like to keep around—book reviews, mostly, but also perhaps a few other relatively high-traffic posts with which I still largely agree, or others with which I now disagree but which that is useful to me in some way. For example, I can readily enough think of times when it might actually be helpful to me at times to be able to point to two different posts from different times in my intellectual development and say: I was <em>wrong</em> here and I now think <em>this</em> instead.</p>
<p>But what this points to is not the need for universal preservation, for holding on for dear life to everything I have published online. Rather, it suggests that <em>curation</em> is valuable. Or, to use a word we might have used in an earlier time with a less haphazard and hyper-individualized approach to publishing: <em>editing</em> is valuable. In this case, that editorial work might simply be my own culling and deciding what to keep and what not to. But the more material I generate, the more valuable I think that kind of trimming is. With it comes the work of figuring out to present that kind of “archival” material—what qualifiers to prepend to it, for example, and where on the site it should live, and how to make sure that links still work even if I move the actual content around on the site… in short, doing this well is a lot of work. But more and more I think: do that work, or shut it all down. There’s too much noise as it is.</p>
<p>So then, as I have suggested before:<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> I need to print these things (if only for my own long-term curiosity). And then, as I have not suggested before: I need to throw some things away, as well.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Ironically, given the content of this post: perhaps only in a microblog post I am apt to delete entirely from my site in short order.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Theological Anthropology2017-05-06T10:50:00-04:002017-05-06T10:50:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2017-05-06:/2017/theological-anthropology.htmlWe need to faithfully extend our doctrine of humanity—to think harder about Creation and Incarnation as our lenses into human nature as we confront “technologism” and “algorithmism” and the ways they distort our understanding of ourselves.<p>A bit of context for this post: Off and on over the past year, and with some frequency since he picked up blogging again after Lent, Alan Jacobs has been tackling what he has variously called a “technological history of modernity” and the problems of the <a href="http://text-patterns.thenewatlantis.com/2017/04/anthropocene-theology.html">“Anthropocene Era”</a>, i.e. a world in which humanity so dominates the world we inhabit that we are physically remaking it, but in which we increasingly feel cut off from our humanity. (I’m eliding an enormous amount; you should really take a close look at the whole series of posts on <a href="http://text-patterns.thenewatlantis.com">Text Patterns</a>.)</p>
<p>A few posts recently have asked questions and thrown out some curious thoughts about the Biblical language of “powers and principalities” and how they might be at play in our world today, and those are certainly worthy of pushing harder into as we consider. (See also <a href="http://blogs.mereorthodoxy.com/matthewloftus/2017/04/27/new-gods-old-demons/" title="New Gods and Old Demons">this post by Matthew Loftus</a> in which he interacts with those ideas.) Needless to say, there is a lot of interesting stuff in play here, and I’m intrigued to see where Jacobs goes with it—even if, as I currently suspect, I don’t agree with his every conclusion. So you can take all of this as a sort of sideways introduction to Jacobs’ project (which is worth your time) and also to the kinds of things I may ramble on more from time to time here.</p>
<hr />
<p><a href="http://text-patterns.thenewatlantis.com/2017/05/restocking-toolbox.html">Jacobs’ latest post</a> returns to a broader question that seems to be underpinning his whole project, and which I would argue is one of the essential: how do we even <em>do</em> this kind of theology? And how do we answer the particular questions of our age in a way that faithfully extends the foundation laid for us from the Apostles’ time till now?<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> From his <a href="http://text-patterns.thenewatlantis.com/2017/04/anthropocene-theology.html">original post</a> on the subject:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>To this claim there may be the immediate response, especially from orthodox Christians, that theology need not be different in this age than in any other, for human nature does not change: it remains true now as it has been since the angels with their flaming swords were posted at the gates of Eden that we are made in the image of God and yet have defaced that image, and that what theologians call “the Christ event” — the incarnation, preaching, healing, death, resurrection, ascension, and ultimate return of the second person of the Trinity — is the means by which that image will be restored and the wounds we have inflicted on the Creation healed. And indeed all that does, I believe, remain true. Yet it does not follow from such foundational salvation history that “theology need not be different in this age than any other.”</p>
<p>We may indeed believe in some universal human nature and nevertheless believe that certain frequencies on the human spectrum of possibility become more audible at times; indeed, the dominance of certain frequencies in one era can render others unheard, and only when that era passes and a new one replaces it may we realize that there were all along transmissions that we couldn’t hear because they were drowned out, overwhelmed. The moral and spiritual soundscape of the world is in constant flux, and calls forth, if we have ears to hear and a willingness to respond, new theological reflections that do not erase the truthfulness or even significance of former theological articulations but have a responsibility to add to them. In this sense at least there must be “development of doctrine.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This all seems exactly right to me. Our robust doctrine of the Trinity, for example, was a doctrine developed specifically in response to the pressures and challenges facing the church in a specific age. The philosophy and the cultural context of Athanasius meant that the church had to answer who and what Jesus Christ is in relation to the Father and the Holy Spirit, and the Spirit to the Father and the Son, and the Father to the Son and the Spirit, in a way that our own age does not <em>demand</em> such answers. It is not that the question has ceased to be important, but changes in culture plus the Church’s (mostly) faithful exposition of those answers in the centuries since mean other questions are now at the fore. Moreover, the other questions which are coming to the fore may indeed be questions the Church has never had to confront, and especially on exactly the terms she confronts them today.</p>
<p>And the challenge or question she confronts today, perhaps more than any other, is this: <em>What even <em>is</em> a human?</em> Put in a bit less “millennial” a way: the question of human nature—the ontology of the embodied, soulish, creaturely things we are—is the central question of our day. If you want to understand the last seventy-five years of cultural change in the West, you need to ask: “What do these people understand it to <em>mean</em> to be human?” If you’re confused about how and why there has been such a radical shift in popularly-accepted views about human sexuality and gender, this is at least a significant part of the answer. The confusion about sex is a symptom of a much deeper confusion: about the very nature of <em>homo sapiens</em>. Indeed, identity politics in general is symptomatic of deep confusion about human nature: how malleable it is or is not, and also what it means.</p>
<p>I think on the whole Jacobs is right when he suggests that much of what theologians have offered here—perhaps especially theologically orthodox theologians—<a href="http://text-patterns.thenewatlantis.com/2017/05/restocking-toolbox.html">is inadequate</a> to the task:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>…professional theologians have acquired in the course of their training a conceptual toolbox which they believe to contain the tools necessary to evaluate and critique cultural developments…. in my judgment the existing toolbox is inadequate; but it does not appear that way to the theologians.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>To reiterate: the problem in Jacobs’ mind is not the theologians’ orthodox answers, but that we are in need of further development of the tradition and further application of the answers it provides. To return to the example I opened with: we desperately need a recovery and a <em>ressourcement</em>, the (re)formulation of a thick and rich Nicene Christology. But we need that as a tool to answer different questions than the Fathers were answering, and so we need it as the foundation on which we build, rather than supposing that it provides already the answers we need <em>without</em> further elaboration. We need to think about Incarnation as an answer not only to Gnosticism (which it still handily rebuts) but also to technologism and what I have started calling “algorithmism”: an unwavering faith that if we just have enough data and smart enough machine learning techniques, we will be able to solve all the problems of our humanity—not least our embodied state.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a></p>
<p>So it has analogies to that old Gnosticism, but there are also possibilities (or the appearance of possibilities) before us which the Fathers did not have to confront: the pursuit not in mystical but in technological terms of escape from the constraints of the body. And that pursuit is not merely the fever-dream of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technological_singularity">Singularity</a>-seeking futurists. It is already the reality of a world of bodily modification, of at a minimum <em>confusions</em> about racial and sexual categories (is <a href="http://nymag.com/daily/intelligencer/2017/05/transracialism-article-controversy.html">“transracial” an invalid category but “transgender” a valid one</a>? If so, why?). And the reason I think Jacobs’ project is important is that much even of the radical individualism, self-definition, and so on which so typifies our day is a result—more or less direct—of this shift in what is technologically <em>possible</em>, and perhaps equally of what is <em>conceived</em> as technologically possible.</p>
<p>What we need in response is the combination of a more coherent understanding of technology<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> and undergirding and shaping it a more robust <em>theological anthropology</em>.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> We need a thoroughly Christian account of human nature; and by that I mean a thoroughly <em>Christ-oriented</em> account of human nature. The technological transcendentalists are not inventing something out of thin air. The desire to ascend to a sort of godhood runs deep in fallen human nature, but it is a perversion of the good and right desire to be like God in a way appropriate to our finitude. The theological work we need to be doing is not a sort of turning-away-from-God-toward-mere-anthropocentrism. Rather, it is turning to the inspired, image-making acts of Creation and Incarnation and asking how those answer the questions of our age, with the confidence that the answers we need are there in God’s making us in his image, and then taking on our image and imaging himself to us in our very midst.</p>
<p>An aside: there are two modern thinkers, very different from each other, whom I think warrant careful consideration in approaching this project. One is a sort of necessary background: T. F. Torrance, whom I have only read on the Trinity, but whose works in general I have seen referenced in ways that make me think he’s going to be helpful across the board here. In general, Torrance is too little read by American theologians as far as I can tell. The other is the (orthodox) New Testament scholar whom I have seen take Jesus’ <em>humanity</em> most seriously: N. T. Wright. A close reading of <em>Jesus and the Victory of God</em> and its portrait of Jesus as a messiah whose humanity comes into view more clearly was enormously helpful in making me read the gospels again with some of this more clearly in view. I’m sure there are others as well; I rather suspect an encounter with O’Donovan would do me good, for example. But I also think there is a great deal of uncharted territory here, and a good deal of work to be done in a faithful development of our orthodoxy in a way that addresses <em>humanity</em>.</p>
<p>Long enough for today. But more to come in spurts and drabs as I am able to read more and make more sense of these questions for myself.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I’m borrowing the language of “faithful extension” here from William T. Cavanaugh and James K. A. Smith’s <em>Evolution and the Fall</em>, which is an interesting work that tangentially but perhaps significantly relates to these same questions.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>I could readily scare-quote “smart” and “machine learning” there; I think both of those words mislead in ways that mirror the kinds of mistakes Jacobs highlights in the same post I’m interacting with here. <em>Much</em> more on that in the future.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>especially of technology as a technique of control and therefore a possible avenue either of right worship as we carry out our Creation task, or of idolatry as we seek not to steward the world but to dominate and distort it.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>A phrase Jacobs has also used in this off-and-on series over the last year, but which I have been using for quite some time: it is always a happy thing to find a term or phrase being adopted independently.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Odd Bits and the Occasional Long-Form Essay2017-04-02T15:30:00-04:002017-04-02T15:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2017-04-02:/2017/odd-bits-and-the-occasional-long-form-essay.htmlOne of the things I'm considering carefully is what *theological blogging* will look like for me now, and in the years ahead. The problem is that I'm not particularly sure I want to be doing any of them quite like I was three to five years ago---and I'm *quite* sure I don't want to be doing it like I was ten years ago!<p>In the midst of congratulating me on finishing up my M. Div. classwork a few weeks ago, an acquaintance noted—as a joke, but with more than a kernel of truth to it—that he was looking forward to <em>even more</em> podcasting and more blogging from me, what with my freer schedule. I laughed and agreed: no doubt I will have a bit more time for both (though I don’t currently plan to add any more podcasts to the already long list).</p>
<p>But one of the things I’m considering carefully is what <em>theological blogging</em> will look like for me now, and in the years ahead. Most of the theological content on this site in the past four years has come directly out of my coursework. (Click into the <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/theology/">Theology section</a> of the site and see how many items are tagged <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/sebts/">#sebts</a>. It’s <em>most</em> of them.) My theological writing before that (<a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/">here</a> and <a href="http://blog.chriskrycho.com">here</a>) was largely a mix of the <em>exploratory</em>, the <em>explanatory</em>, and the <em>response-to-current-events</em> kinds of blogging.</p>
<p>In the exploratory category, I was working out my thoughts on given topics in public. My <a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/topics/devotions/">personal devotions</a> posts back in 2013 fit well here: these were basically reflecting “out loud” on whatever I was studying in the Bible any given day. In the <em>explanatory</em> category, I was laying out how I’d already come to think on a given topic, in the hopes it would be helpful to others. <a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/will-of-god/">This post from 2013</a> and <a href="http://blog.chriskrycho.com/2010/11/debt-and-dogged-discipline.html">this post from 2010</a> are both good examples of that. My <a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/category/articles/reviews/">book reviews</a> fit somewhere else in that mix, too—a bit of both of those, probably. And finally there were the (even then rather rare for me) <a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/an-aspen-in-a-forest-of-pines/">responses to other articles</a> out there. All of those are a good kind of blogging.</p>
<p>The problem is that I’m not particularly sure I want to be doing any of them quite like I was three to five years ago—and I’m <em>quite</em> sure I don’t want to be doing it like I was ten years ago!</p>
<p>In the last few years, I’ve found my voice as a technical writer. I know that I can site down and work out even a fairly complicated subject in software in a voice that is approachable and engaging, and which people seem to enjoy reading. But at the same time, I’ve “lost” my voice as a theological writer, though <em>lost</em> is the wrong word for it. It’s not so much that I couldn’t write the way I did a few years ago, but that I don’t want to. I’m glad for people doing that kind of casual blogging, and I still read a few of those blogs (mostly by friends). But I mostly quit reading <a href="https://blogs.thegospelcoalition.org/justintaylor">Justin Taylor</a> or <a href="https://blogs.thegospelcoalition.org/kevindeyoung">Kevin DeYoung</a> or <a href="https://blogs.thegospelcoalition.org/thabitianyabwile/">Thabiti Anyabwile</a><a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> or any of the others I read regularly a few years ago—they’re generally publishing good material, and I think they’re a gift to evangelicals. But very little of what they’re saying is particularly interesting to me at this point. They’re doing great topical work. I’m much more interested in looking at structural and systems-level questions, or at things which really can’t be addressed well in the 500–2,000-word range, but require a long essay at a minimum or even a book to tease out the nuances of. I was starting to feel that way a few years ago; and my experiences in seminary have (in ways that might not be exactly what you expect of a seminary experience<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a>) sharpened that profoundly.</p>
<p>I do want to <em>write</em> on things theological, whether those be theology proper, or theological anthropology, or the ways those press out into ethics and culture and politics and family life and so on. But not so much in the regular-blogger-tackling-current-issues way. People are doing that, and doing it well. Go read <a href="http://blogs.mereorthodoxy.com/matthewloftus/">Matthew Loftus</a> or <a href="http://blogs.mereorthodoxy.com/samuel/">Samuel James</a> over at Mere O; read <a href="http://text-patterns.thenewatlantis.com">Alan Jacobs</a>—<em>please</em> read Alan Jacobs—read anyone you find helpful along those lines. It just won’t be me. I’m far more interested in essays than in blog posts at this point in this space.</p>
<p>As such, what I’m going to be doing here, I expect, will be more in the “thinking out loud about topics I’m chewing on” vein. Snippets, not long blog posts—but perhaps pieces of things on the way to being full-blown essays. I’m thinking hard about something I’m calling “algorithmism” (you can follow the bits I’m reading online on that subject <a href="http://feeds.pinboard.in/rss/u:chriskrycho/t:algorithmism/">via Pinboard</a>). Don’t expect regularity, and certainly don’t expect hot takes or even commentary on what is current. Odd bits and the occasional long-form essay are more likely to make appearances here.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>All of whom, amusingly enough, ended up at <a href="https://www.thegospelcoalition.org">The Gospel Coalition</a>. Another thing which has changed in the last five years is that indie bloggers are even <em>more</em> rare; the move away from individual sites and toward blogging networks which was hitting when I started seminary has turned into a <em>de facto</em> standard.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>It’s <em>not</em> because SEBTS was an incredibly academic school which turned me into an overly-academically-minded person. Perhaps I’ll write on that more in the future, but it’s totally ancillary to this post.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
The Collect of the Day2017-01-16T07:17:00-05:002017-01-16T07:17:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2017-01-16:/2017/01-16-collect.html<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Almighty God,<br />
in Christ you make all things new:<br />
transform the poverty of our nature by the riches of your grace,<br />
and in the renewal of our lives<br />
make known your heavenly glory;<br />
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,<br />
who is alive and reigns with you,<br />
in the unity …</div></blockquote><blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Almighty God,<br />
in Christ you make all things new:<br />
transform the poverty of our nature by the riches of your grace,<br />
and in the renewal of our lives<br />
make known your heavenly glory;<br />
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,<br />
who is alive and reigns with you,<br />
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,<br />
one God, now and for ever.<br />
Amen.</div>
</blockquote>
The Prayers of the Church2017-01-03T06:08:00-05:002017-01-03T06:08:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2017-01-03:/2017/the-prayers-of-the-church.html<p>The prayers of the Church are a gift.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Almighty God,<br />
who wonderfully created us in your own image<br />
and yet more wonderfully restored us<br />
through your Son Jesus Christ:<br />
grant that, as he came to share in our humanity,<br />
so we may share the life of his divinity;<br />
who is …</div></blockquote><p>The prayers of the Church are a gift.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Almighty God,<br />
who wonderfully created us in your own image<br />
and yet more wonderfully restored us<br />
through your Son Jesus Christ:<br />
grant that, as he came to share in our humanity,<br />
so we may share the life of his divinity;<br />
who is alive and reigns with you,<br />
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,<br />
one God, now and for ever.<br />
Amen.</div>
</blockquote>
Tony Merida, sermon on November 20, 20162016-11-20T09:30:00-05:002016-11-20T09:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-11-20:/2016/11-20-0930.html<blockquote>
<p>If you’re waiting to get out of trouble to praise God, <em>you will never praise God</em>.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>If you’re waiting to get out of trouble to praise God, <em>you will never praise God</em>.</p>
</blockquote>
There Is No Second-Order Guilt2016-10-26T09:54:00-04:002016-10-26T09:54:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-10-26:/2016/there-is-no-second-order-guilt.htmlLink: “There is no such thing as second order guilt. This election, economic reasoning, and so many of our choices would be greatly simplified if more people were aware of this.”
<p><a href="http://www.ethicsandculture.com/blog/2016/there-is-no-second-order-guilt">“There is no second-order guilt”</a>—solid and helpful bit by Andrew “Spence” Spencer here:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>There is no such thing as second order guilt.</p>
<p>This election, economic reasoning, and so many of our choices would be greatly simplified if more people were aware of this.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="http://www.ethicsandculture.com/blog/2016/there-is-no-second-order-guilt">Read the whole thing.</a></p>
Constant Evaluation2016-09-13T07:10:00-04:002016-09-13T07:10:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-09-13:/2016/constant-evaluation.html<p>I’m reading John Frame’s <em>The Doctrine of the Christian Life</em>, and find a great deal to commend in it, but also some real head-scratchers. The same page, for example (287), includes both of these quotes—</p>
<p>On rejecting mere traditionalism:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>This [Paul’s example of self-sacrifice for evangelism] means …</p></blockquote><p>I’m reading John Frame’s <em>The Doctrine of the Christian Life</em>, and find a great deal to commend in it, but also some real head-scratchers. The same page, for example (287), includes both of these quotes—</p>
<p>On rejecting mere traditionalism:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>This [Paul’s example of self-sacrifice for evangelism] means that in our evangelistic methodology, and indeed in our worship (for that also has an evangelistic element, [1 Corinthians] 14:24–25), our goal must not be to please ourselves, but to bend and stretch, toa ccept discomfort and the trauma of change, in order to speak the Christian faith to the contemporary world.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>On the Fathers:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We have had much more time to study Scripture than did the early church fathers like Clement and Justin Martyr. And in some ways, I think, contemporary orthodox Reformed theology has a far deeper and more precise understanding of the gospel than did the church fathers. I say this contrary to those evangelicals who are joining Eastern Orthodox churches in order to return to the supposedly more profound teachings of the early church fathers. Although the Fathers did wonderful work in their day, standing heroically for the faith amid terrible oppressions, their writings were confused on many important points, such as the Trinity and justification by faith. (287)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The first quote is an <em>excellent</em> summary of the Christian obligation to continually reapply the testimony of Scripture to the present. The book is full of these kinds of enormously helpful bits; I have written far more ✓ than ✗ marks—i.e., many more affirmations than rejections—in this text.</p>
<p>But that second quote makes me want to bang my head against the desk. When Frame waves his hand at “the Fathers” and declares “their writings” “confused on… the Trinity and justification by faith,” I am left saying: <em>Which Fathers?</em> and, even more importantly, <em>Frame, where do you think we <em>got</em> our doctrine of the Trinity, if not the Fathers?</em> To be sure, there is plenty of variation in quality and reliability of the Fathers. Origen is a brilliant, fascinating hot mess of a theologian, for example, while Irenaeus, Hillary, Augustine, Athanasius, and others are no less sure or reliable than any major Reformed author. Moreover: reading early Reformed writers makes it very clear that <em>they</em> thought the Fathers broadly reliable and helpful!</p>
<p>Every author has strengths and weaknesses. Even the most helpful require <em>constant</em> evaluation.</p>
Misreading Tolkien and Misreading Scripture: Responding to O’Keefe and Reno2016-07-25T10:00:00-04:002016-07-25T10:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-07-25:/2016/misreading-tolkien-and-misreading-scripture-responding-to-okeefe-and-reno.html<p>It turns out the fastest way to get me to write <a href="https://mereorthodoxy.com/misreading-tolkien-hermeneutics-allegory-lord-rings/">1,700 words on hermeneutics</a> is to misread Tolkien.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I am reading John J. O’Keefe and R. R. Reno’s Sanctified Vision for the independent study on hermeneutics and theological method I am doing this summer. I have …</p></blockquote><p>It turns out the fastest way to get me to write <a href="https://mereorthodoxy.com/misreading-tolkien-hermeneutics-allegory-lord-rings/">1,700 words on hermeneutics</a> is to misread Tolkien.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I am reading John J. O’Keefe and R. R. Reno’s Sanctified Vision for the independent study on hermeneutics and theological method I am doing this summer. I have found the book fairly helpful overall, and think the authors are right to commend the church Fathers as models for Biblical interpretation in many ways. The authors do good (albeit somewhat tendentious) work arguing for whole-Bible/“intensive reading” strategies and the validity of typology as part of theological method. When they come to allegory, though, their argument almost immediately goes off the rails with a deeply misguided interpretation of The Lord of the Rings….</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You can read the rest <a href="https://mereorthodoxy.com/misreading-tolkien-hermeneutics-allegory-lord-rings/">over at Mere Orthodoxy</a>.</p>
A Simple Children's Catechism2016-06-21T20:45:00-04:002016-06-21T20:45:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-06-21:/2016/a-simple-childrens-catechism.htmlThe simple catechism we use with our girls—there’s nothing original here except perhaps the specific form and order. But I hope someone finds it useful! The aim is deep answers that are easy for little kids to remember and to say.
<p>I was talking with some family today about how we all approach catechizing our children, and it made me think: I should write up the simple catechism we use with our girls. The goal is to package the great truths of our faith in terms that little kids can <em>remember</em> and that they can <em>say</em>. There’s nothing original here except perhaps the specific form and order. But I hope someone finds it a little bit useful! If you’re curious about sources or reasons, see the footnotes, which in this post serve as commentary.</p>
<hr />
<dl>
<dt>Who made you?</dt>
<dd>The Trinity!<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a>
</dd>
<dt>Who is the Trinity?</dt>
<dd>God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
</dd>
<dt>And they are…</dt>
<dd>…three persons, just one God, and no divisions.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a>
</dd>
<dt>Why did the Trinity make you? Why do you exist?</dt>
<dd>To love God and be happy in him forever.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a>
</dd>
<dt>What is the most important rule?</dt>
<dd>To love God with all your everything<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a>—with your heart, and your mind, and all your everything.
</dd>
<dt>What is the second most important rule?</dt>
<dd>To love others as much as you love yourself.<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a>
</dd>
<dt>What is the first rule that comes with a promise?</dt>
<dd>To honor your father and mother.
</dd>
<dt>And what is the promise that comes with it?</dt>
<dd>It will go well with you and you’ll live a long time.<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a>
</dd>
</dl>
<hr />
<p>Beyond this, we started memorizing Genesis 1 with our oldest when she was three. We need to pick that back up (she’d memorized 12 verses!), but haven’t figured out what it looks like schedule-wise yet.</p>
<p>I’d like to start adding some further explication of the gospel going forward as well—<em>how</em> God has loved us. We talk about that on a regular basis, but including it in our catechism will be helpful (and I’ll just keep borrowing regularly from the existing catechisms).</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>This might surprise you, as most children’s catechisms use “God” or “God made me” here. Our oldest child simply couldn’t remember that answer. But we sing “Doxology” every night before bed as well as doing our catechism, and one night I said to her, “God is the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. That’s the Trinity,” and she said Trinity happily. So when I asked her “Who made you?” a moment later, I prompted her with “The Trinity” and… it stuck. So we ran with it; the questions which follow were a natural progression from there.</p>
<p>I actually think this happy turn is a <em>profoundly</em> good thing: the God we confess is, as Athanasius pointed out many centuries ago, not just some abstract God, not first and foremost the Creator. God is in eternally, internally, <em>triune</em>. The gospel we proclaim is a Triune good news—the Father sending the Son who is empowered by the Spirit, so that through the Spirit’s applying the Son’s work to us we might be the adopted children of the Father, and so reconciled with God and (astounding thought) participating in the very life of the Trinity. <em>That</em> is the good news.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>As our kids get older, we’ll elaborate on this. Eventually I’d love for us all to be able to say together the Nicene-Constantinoplan Creed, which carries this much further. But this gets the most important bits in place.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>Borrowed fairly directly from the Westminster Shorter Catechism.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>I was riffing off of the word we usually translate <em>strength</em> from the Hebrew. “All your everything” isn’t an amazing translation, but it gets the point across decently, and our oldest had an easier time with it than “strength.”<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>Here, as with our paraphrase of the Shema, the point is to get the <em>point</em> across. In both cases, we’ll switch to more usual wording as the kids grow up.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>Again: getting at the gist of things. We’ll elaborate on this and start talking about how it fits in the context of salvific history as they keep growing. But Paul’s use in Ephesians 6:1–2 gives us good warrant for continuing to apply it to our own children, I think.</p>
<p>Applying the promises to our own children is, I know, complicated for Baptists. I have… <em>thoughts</em> on this. They will emerge at some point, probably after substantially more study, and <em>probably</em> without my becoming Presbyterian.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Irreducible Complexity and Design Discourse2016-05-17T22:22:00-04:002016-05-17T22:22:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-17:/2016/irreducible-complexity-and-design-discourse.htmlEven if Michael Behe's analysis fails as an inductive argument, there is good reason to think complex biological systems were <em>designed</em>.
<p><i class='editorial'>Is the biological evidence for ‘irreducible complexity’ best understood in terms of a design argument or design discourse?</i></p>
<p>Michael Behe has suggested that many structures found in biological systems are <em>irreducibly complex</em>, that is, complex in such a way that they could not have arisen via indirect, chance development but bear clear evidence of having been designed. This evidence of design comes from the fact that these systems have a number of parts without which the mechanism in question simply does not function—not with degraded or partial function, but no function at all. He offers up several prominent examples of this phenomena, among them the human eye and the bacterial flagellum. With each, he shows how problematic a materialist evolutionary account for their development must be, charting six steps in “design space” which any such account must fulfill. Take the human eye: (1) Development begins with a light-sensitive spot. (2) All steps which finally result in a human eye occur via heritable genetic variation. (3) At no point does a designer intervene; all steps occur solely by random mutation. (4) Each step along the way must be either adaptive, conferring greater survivability and reproductive success on the organism, or at least not maladaptive, making the organism less likely to survive. (5) No step may be exceptionally improbable relative to the others in the sequence. (6) The final step in the sequence must be the actual, functioning human eye. Behe argues variously that such a naturalistic evolutionary path is either impossible or at least incredibly improbable for many biological systems. As such, he thinks he has evidence or proof that the systems did not develop (and perhaps could not have been developed) via purely naturalistic means.</p>
<p>Several major lines of criticism have been advanced against Behe’s argument, notably by Paul Draper. Draper first notes that while Behe establishes a challenge for evolutionary explanations of these biological, he by no means proves them irreducibly complex. Asserting that they are is not <em>proving</em> that they are. Second, and closely related, many evolutionary biologists deny that these systems, complex as they are, are <em>irreducibly</em> complex. A number of potential explanations have been offered for how the systems Behe describes might have developed in a way that satisfies his criteria. Third, he notes that Behe struggles to define clearly what constitutes a “part” in such systems. But since a “part” is an integral element of his scheme of irreducible complexity, it seems a definition should be forthcoming. Finally, Draper suggests that there are evolutionary phenomena capable of explaining the phenomena Behe outlines. If an element S has a function F at time T, and later at time T ʹ develops into S ʹ, which at time Tʹʹ is integrated into a larger system Q which confers functionality Fʹ, then Sʹ is not an irreducibly complex part of Fʹ. It arose independently, even though it was incorporated into the later function Fʹ.</p>
<p>A partial rejoinder to Draper is in order. Though he is right to note that Behe has not proven these structures to be irreducibly complex, neither have evolutionary biologists offered any actual path through the design space as hard evidence against Behe. Granted that it may not be possible for them to do so; still, telling a just-so story does not constitute a particularly strong claim. Moreover, that such a story can be told in no way makes it probable. This might defeat Behe’s stronger claim (irreducibly complex structures <em>cannot</em> arise by purely natural evolutionary means), but not the weaker form (it is extremely <em>unlikely</em> that irreducibly complex structures could arise by purely natural evolutionary means). Draper’s points do weaken Behe’s case, however.</p>
<p>Alvin Plantinga offers two further criticisms. First, assume Behe is right and that these developments are extraordinarily improbable. So what? Many extraordinarily improbable things have happened. If humans <em>do</em> inhabit a materialist universe in which no intelligent designer exists, then this extraordinarily improbable thing is precisely what happened. Second, and perhaps more serious—not only for Behe but for other Intelligent Design theorists, such as William Dembski—the prior probabilities of these outcomes are simply unknowable. One might devise some set of numbers in an attempt to represent the problem space, but such an attempt would always be fundamentally just guesswork.</p>
<p>As an alternative option, Plantinga suggests that Behe’s approach be taken not as an inductive argument for these systems’ being designed, but as a sort of <em>design discourse</em>. That is, Behe’s points are not something like an inference to the best explanation; rather, they are a normal, rational part of human cognition, and as such may be well-warranted even if a sustained argument for them cannot be mounted. Plantinga notes that many rational beliefs cannot be argued: the reliability of one’s senses, or memories, or the existence of other minds. The existence of other minds is particularly relevant, because when an explorer finds something and attributes design to it, that is just what she is doing: attributing the existence of some artifact to another mind. Such behavior is clearly rational in many situations: if astronauts on the moon discover a very large obsidian monolith, they are not obliged to chalk it up to some purely mechanistic and hitherto unknown lunar process. They immediately, and <em>rightly</em> attribute it to another intelligence.</p>
<p>Behe’s discussion seems to be just along these lines. When humans look at complex biological systems, they give every appearance of having been designed—and not only to the theists who would presumably have a bias in that direction. This appearance of design has led eminent atheists to offer up any number of comments explaining away that appearance, Sir Francis Crick and Richard Dawkins both famously among them. When atheist writers are wont to say things like “Biology is the study of things which appear to have been designed, but were not,” they strongly suggest that Plantinga’s reading of Behe may be on the right track.</p>
<p>Beliefs formed basically are not, of course, unassailable. A person suffering from amnesia might come to distrust her memories. If someone is informed he is under the influence of a hallucinogen, he would have reason to doubt his observations of the world. Basic beliefs can be defeated by being undercut, or by being flat-out rebutted. In the case of a design discourse, for example, the belief could be totally rebutted if one could offer proof that natural, totally unguided evolution <em>had</em> produced one of these biological systems. This, however, is impossible: science itself is incapable of showing that the evolutionary process was not directed by God. Even if the mutations that led to the development of the system were totally random, they could nonetheless have been planned by God in the creation of the whole universe from the beginning. Such a claim is therefore inherently metaphysical, and cannot be demonstrated empirically. It would be easier to undercut the design belief, by showing it both possible and not <em>profoundly</em> unlikely that an evolutionary path could have given rise to the phenomena in question. If such a path could be shown, it would indeed serve to weaken one’s confidence in a design assessment. For one thing, though, such paths do seem to be rather improbable (even if the actual probabilities are not knowable). For another, even if such an undercutting defeater were granted entirely, it might not totally defeat the basic belief, because there can be <em>deflectors</em> for such defeaters. If one has many other reasons (philosophical, empirical, experiential, and so on) to affirm Christianity, for example, then even a reasonable claim for the viability of some naturalist evolutionary path might not <em>defeat</em> the design assessment—only weaken it.</p>
<p>In short, Behe’s analysis <em>qua</em> argument has a number of weaknesses. It may serve as one part of a broader inference toward theism, but on its own merits, it does seem to fall prey to some of the critiques Draper in particular offers—not least, because Behe advances a very strong claim about the irreducible complexity of the structures in question. It falls to him to defend that claim. But taking his analysis as exemplary of a basic, and therefore well-warranted, <em>recognition</em> of design in biological systems seem rather more secure. Taking the two together may be the best of all. It may be possible to see and immediately recognize design, <em>and</em> to reason inferentially about designed mechanisms, and for both to have a confirmatory status in one’s affirmation of Christian theism.</p>
Fine Tuning2016-05-17T22:21:00-04:002016-05-17T22:21:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-17:/2016/fine-tuning.htmlThe universe gives every appearance of having been fine-tuned to support the existence of humans. Neither the so-called anthropic prinicple nor a many-worlds hypothesis provide good alternative explanations to Christian theism.
<p><i class="editorial">What is the fine-tuning argument for God’s existence, what are two of the strongest objections to it, and how would you respond to those objections?</i></p>
<p>The fine-tuning argument notes that human existence in the universe depends on a wide array of natural constants existing within very narrow ranges, and that it does not seem that those constants <em>necessarily</em> had to be within those ranges, and infers from these two observations that the universe has been fine-tuned for the existence of human life. For example, the balance between the strong and weak nuclear forces is just such that matter forms, and not only matter but the wide variety of light and heavy elements found throughout the universe (not just something like hydrogen). The strength of the gravitational constant is just such that the universe neither inflated so rapidly that no stars could form, nor so slowly that it collapsed back in on itself under the influence of its own mass, during the Big Bang at its origin. The electromagnetic force is of just the right strength so that electrons are bound to their molecules, but not so tightly that they cannot be exchanged between particles, with all the extraordinary effects on exchange of energy that enables in a wide variety of systems.</p>
<p>Many more examples could be multiplied; the point is that if any of these or many other factors were only very slightly different, the universe would not exist as we know it, and nothing remotely like human life could exist at all. Moreover, there seem to be very many (possibly infinite) other possible values for these constants. There is no apparent reason the gravitational field <em>could not</em> be twice as strong or a third as strong as it is, for example. So the universe seems to have been designed—its basic “settings” fine-tuned—to be a place inhabitable by creatures like human beings.</p>
<p>Two of the stronger and more common arguments advanced against the fine-tuning hypothesis are the anthropic principle, and the many worlds hypothesis. Proponents of the anthropic principle as an explanation of the fine-tuning note that the only way anyone <em>could</em> exist to observe the universe is if it had these constants. Since people are here and do observe the universe, it is unsurprising that the universe has these constants. On the one hand, this seems patently obvious: of course the only kind of universe which could be observed by creatures like humans is one suitable for them to live in. On the other hand, it seems to miss the point entirely. If a firing squad of a dozen crack marksman line up to carry out an execution, all with live ammunition, all at close range, and after they all fire the person to be executed still lives, it does not serve as an explanation to him to say, “Well, obviously you could only be here to talk with us about this if you lived; if you had died you wouldn’t be here.” The improbability of surviving such an event demands explanation. So, too, the improbability of the one universe that exists having these properties demands explanation. After all, its existence does not <em>depend</em> on the people observing it (not least since there were no people around to observe it for most of its very long history). These factors exist entirely independent of the observers, and as such the fine-tuning argument is well-warranted.</p>
<p>A strong form of the argument might take into account the problems that come from observation selection effect. If one noted that all amoebas which have ever been observed were within an inch of a microscope, and then inferred that therefore all amoebas which <em>exist</em> are within an inch of a microscope, this would be a bad observer selection inference. The limitations of the observation prejudice the availability of the data. Likewise, if one had a net which was capable of catching only ten-inch-long or larger fish, and inferred from catching only ten-inch-long or larger first that there were not smaller fish in the pond, the inference would be a bad one. However, the fine-tuning argument is not like this. Rather, it is more like an argument which says: (1) Offspring are usually fairly like their parents. (2) This fish is just over ten-inches long. (H3) The fish might have parents which are only one inch long each. (H4) The fish might have parents which are nine to eleven inches long. (5) Observation 2 is much more likely on H4 than on H3 given Observation 1. Therefore (6) this fish’s parents were probably nine to eleven inches long. This argument might be wrong, but it is nothing like the earlier, obviously silly examples. The fine-tuning argument is of the same basic form: (1) The physical constants of the universe could have had any of a very wide, possibly infinite array of values. (2) The universe’s physical constants are just such that life is possible. (H3) The universe was created by God. (H4) The universe arose by chance. (5) Observation 2 is much likelier on H3 than on H4 given Observation 1. Therefore, more probably the universe was created by God.</p>
<p>Because of the severe problems with the argument from the anthropic principle, some atheists have instead advanced a many-worlds hypothesis. In this view, there are many universes—trillions, perhaps an infinite number. Universes constantly bubble into existence from the quantum foam, expanding with their own randomly chosen variations on the constants. Given such a plethora of universes, it is no longer improbable that a universe such as this one exists; in fact, its seems <em>very</em> probable. There are several serious problems with this idea, however. The first is that while it may make more probable the existence of <em>some</em> universe with a given set of constants, it does not make more probable the fine-tuning of any specific universe. The same basic problem faced by the anthropic principle explanation therefore still applies: out of all the universes out there, why is <em>this</em> one well-tuned for existence? Turning the earlier example slightly: imagine that an execution would be stayed only if every die in a set of 20 20-sided dice came up with a one. If an execution <em>were</em> stayed on that basis, the event would not be explained by the existence of many worlds such that it is likely that such a thing would happen in <em>some</em> world. It would still seem (and be!) a miraculous survival. Second, and more seriously, the many-worlds hypothesis introduces an infinite regress, but of something which is not apparently <em>necessary</em>: the universe. But if the problem is to be solved by introducing either infinite regress, or by treating something as necessary, the multiplication of worlds seems to radically reduce simplicity relative to the idea that God exists. Moreover, incidentally, on the Christian God’s existence it seems far more probable that universes would be fine-tuned for life even on the many-worlds hypothesis, for the Christian God is interested in knowing and being known by creatures; no such constraint is operative in a non-theistic many-worlds scenario.</p>
<p>Neither of these arguments against the fine-tuning argument is very telling. Both are very nearly question-begging, in fact, and in each case it still looks far more likely that the universe is fine-tuned because someone wanted it to support life, than that it just happened that way by chance.</p>
Classical Mechanics Doesn't Exclude Miracles2016-05-17T22:20:00-04:002016-05-17T22:20:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-17:/2016/classical-mechanics-doesnt-exclude-miracles.htmlSome philosophers and theologians have supposed that classical mechanics excludes God's acting in the world specially (i.e. miracles). This is nonsense of the highest order.
<p><i class=editorial>Does classic (Newtonian) physics constitute a defeater for belief in special divine action?</i></p>
<p>It is a common-place of some older philosophy of science and religion to suppose that the universe described by Newton’s laws of mechanics, Maxwell’s equations, and so on was a place of such regularity that there was no room for miracles. Because the laws posited deterministic systems in which the outcome of any given system could be known <em>exactly</em>, given the total set of antecedent conditions, some philosophers took the system to be indicating that determinism was a fact of the universe. Divine intervention would then be ruled out: God interacting with the universe would break Newton’s laws of mechanics and Maxwell’s laws of electromagnetism, and scientific laws more generally. Antithetical though this stance might seem to be to the Christian faith, a number of prominent philosophers and theologians, including such high-profile figures as Mackie and Bultmann, have affirmed this premise and integrated it into their theologizing. They were willing to affirm the “C phenomena”—God’s <em>creating</em>, <em>conserving</em>, and <em>concurring</em> work in the world—but not the “M phenomena” of <em>miracles</em>, God intervening directly in the world.</p>
<p>The first and most obvious problem with the idea that the scientific laws in question would be violated by a divine special intervention is that the laws themselves specify that they hold for closed systems. Newton’s laws of mechanics, for example, require conservation of mass and energy within a system—as long as, and only as long as, there is no external input into the system. If an external force does act on a system, then momentum (e.g.) is not conserved. Likewise, Maxwell’s formulations describe the behavior of electromagnetic fields in a closed system. God intervening, however, would by definition mean the system is <em>not</em> closed. It is not that God would be violating the laws. Rather, the laws describe a different situation from the one in which God acts specially.</p>
<p>Theologians such as Mackie and Bultmann who rejected miracles as “mythologizing” and out of bounds did not deny that God interacted with the world in any way, only that he did not interact <em>specially</em> with it. Unfortunately, the arguments they raise against God’s acting specially in the world argue against God’s acting in the world at all. Their argument runs something like this: if the state of the world is known at time T, and these laws hold, then the state of the world at time T* can be known as well. But if God specially intervenes, if he engages in a miracle, then this is no longer so. That would be violating the laws, and so he does not (perhaps cannot, if he wishes to uphold his world) perform miracles. However, precisely the same is true of those “C-phenomena.” If God had not created the world, obviously the world would not exist and nothing would occur. If he does not conserve the world so it continues to exist, then no matter what was known about the state of the world at time T, nothing whatsoever can be said of it (even that it still exists) at time T*. If he does not continue to concur with the function of the world he has designed, so that the laws he designed remain in force, then chaos follows. Whatever was so at T is in no way related to what happens at time T* if God is not upholding the causal powers of everything in the universe. Miracles, then, are not <em>special</em> in this way. Their specialness is in their distinction from the way God ordinarily conducts himself in the world.</p>
<p>It might here by objected that this leaves the theist with no way to distinguish between miraculous and ordinary events: both are simply the outcome of God’s will. This is patently false. On this objection, no one could ever identify any rare event, nor claim that something had happened which had never happened before. Nor could science develop; it is precisely identifying outlying phenomena and ways things differ from human expectations and current predictions about the world which drives scientific exploration. If indeed God conserves and concurs with the universe in a pattern he ordained, then the times when he acts unusually—out of step with the normal—will look quite different.</p>
<p>One further objection might be raised, about the inconsistency of God’s acting specially in the world at all. Why, the skeptic about miracles might ask, would God <em>need</em> to act in the world in these ways—should he not be able to set everything up ahead of time so that things fall out without his intervention. This has an apparent simplicity in its favor. It seems, though, that it assumes a particular view of the desires of God—for a basically mechanical system in which he will never need to intervene. If instead God desires to be known by some of the creatures in his world, it seems the opposite is true. Establishing an orderly world will not only make it habitable for those creatures, and will not only allow them to flourish and succeed therein; it will allow him to reveal himself to them <em>by way of miracles</em>. If the world were chaotic, no event would seem strange. If he never intervened, he would be difficult or impossible to know. Precisely because he creates an orderly world and both conserves it in being and concurs with the causal powers with which he initially endued it, the times when he <em>does</em> act distinctively are revelatory.</p>
<p>In light of all this, any discussion of God “breaking” or “violating” the laws of nature seems entirely wrong. The laws simply do not apply to those conditions. They describe what happens in the case when the world proceeds in the ordinary way, precisely because of God’s creating, conserving, and concurring with the world. But God is not constrained by them; the regularities exist because he desires them to! He is free to act in different ways when it suits his purpose.</p>
Realism and Antirealism2016-05-16T23:55:00-04:002016-06-06T07:35:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-16:/2016/realism-and-antirealism.htmlCritical scientific realism, though it has serious challenges, is the best explanation of the success of science and model of scientific knowledge. Applying this to the question of creationism yields helpful insights into the debate.
<p><i class=editorial>N.B. This copy of the paper has been lightly revised for grammar, spelling, etc. You can see the full revision history <a href="https://github.com/chriskrycho/chriskrycho.com/commits/master/content/classwork/phi7650-paper.md">here</a>.</i></p>
<hr />
<section id="part-i-argument-for-realism" class="level1">
<h1>Part I: Argument for Realism</h1>
<section id="introduction-definition-constraints" class="level2">
<h2>1. Introduction, Definition, Constraints</h2>
<blockquote>
<p>Because these facts… are so striking, because there was no reason <em>a priori</em> to expect man to be able to achieve such cognitive feats, because no undertaking can guarantee success <em>of this particular sort</em>, we are confronted with a genuine problem: why is science so successful?<span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:beyond-realism"><a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></span></p>
</blockquote>
<p>The success of science over the last four hundred years has produced a radical increase in effective prediction of natural phenomena across a wide array of domains. It has also yielded a striking ability to intervene successfully in the natural world in areas as diverse as biology and medicine on the one hand, and particle physics and the development of computing technology on the other. Yet, when scientists speak of electrons, quarks, dark matter, and so on—phenomena not directly accessible to ordinary human experience, but in many cases directly related to this empirical and technological success—it is an open question in philosophy of science whether such entities really exist, or are merely useful ways of solving problems and dealing with data. Scientific realism is the affirmation that the entities postulated by scientific theories actually do exist. This claim does not entail the success of all scientific theories, and is therefore not compromised by the failure and replacement of some scientific theories. Nor does it require that all theories be embraced equally firmly. It simply means the claims and practice of science do really, if only approximately, describe the world. This paper will argue that critical realism is the best explanation for science’s success, and that it correctly characterizes the relationship between scientific models and the world they describe.</p>
</section>
<section id="reasons-for-accepting-realism" class="level2">
<h2>2. Reasons for Accepting Realism</h2>
<section id="a.-analogical-reasoning" class="level3">
<h3>a. Analogical Reasoning</h3>
<p>One of the most straightforward arguments in favor of scientific realism is the intuition toward realism in general. When a detective examines a murder scene, she tends to assume the hypothesized criminal actually exists. Further analysis may or may not bear out the initial hypothesis about who committed a crime—perhaps it was a psychotic killer escaped from a mental ward, not an acquaintance of the deceased—but her normal faculties reliably point toward real entities in the world. Moreover, the process of analysis generally leads an (honest) investigator toward an increasingly accurate mental picture of the perpetrator. Missteps may occur in the analysis, but are amenable to critical reassessment, so that even when the revision from the original hypothesis is substantial, the trend-line of the mental model is toward increasing accuracy. The basic picture was refined, not destroyed: the victim was not after all killed by a wizard from Alpha Centauri (and even that would be a malicious, person-like agent).</p>
<p>Science, on a realist view, operates similarly. Initial hypotheses may prove to have more or less in common with the real world, and not only may but <em>must</em> be subject to revision, even radical revision along the way. However, theories should be treated realistically, both ontologically (there really is something out there to know) and epistemically (science grants access to reality, albeit in approximate and limited fashion).</p>
<p>The primary argument against this analogy toward scientific realism is the idea of in-principle unobservables.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> The crime scene investigator has direct experience of things like criminals (other human persons, at least) as well as of the evidence itself. No one has direct experience of electrons. More than this, the postulates of quantum mechanics (are taken to) suggest that no one <em>can</em> have such direct experience. Then, the antirealist argues, the scientific claim is at best unknowable: electrons may exist, but scientists have no way of knowing. They may observe a trail in a gas cloud, but whether the thing leaving the trail is really like an electron is unknowable.</p>
<p>Any such attempt to distinguish in principle between observables and unobservables fails.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> First, antirealists use “unobservable” to mean anything not directly observable by human senses. However, declaring such objects in-principle unobservable is question-begging: the point under debate is just whether things detected indirectly are being observed or simply hypothesized. Antirealists must first establish such an in-principle distinction between indirect and direct observation. Realists note that indirect observation is rightly considered reliable in the realm of ordinary experience, and can rationally be extended analogically. It is reasonable to conclude that the wind is blowing from seeing its effects on trees even if sitting inside a closed room (with no direct experience of the wind). This would be so even for a person who had spent his entire life locked up inside and therefore had never had direct experiential access to wind or trees. Indirect observations still count as observations.</p>
</section>
<section id="b.-whole-cloth-reasoning" class="level3">
<h3>b. Whole-Cloth Reasoning</h3>
<p>Moreover, human reasoning seems to be “whole cloth.” It is difficult (if not impossible) to find any particular line, even a blurry one, where this kind of inferential reasoning becomes suspect.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> Granted that electrons are quite different from anything of which humans have direct experience, this is not finally telling against reasoning about them. Humans are quite capable of making the requisite fine distinctions required for analogical reasoning to be valid; indeed, scientific models of electrons expressly include both similarities to and sharp discontinuities with human experience.</p>
<p>Second, a realist view rightly makes sense of the way “observability” lies along a spectrum. On one end are those phenomena which can be detected through (normal, healthy) human senses such as hearing or vision. Moving down toward the not-directly-observable spectrum, scientists use telescopes and microscopes to enhance their ability to observe things inaccessible to ordinary human sight because of distance and size respectively. In both cases, however, there is no clear line distinguishing “observable” from “unobservable”—only a spectrum of more- or less-<em>directly</em>-observable phenomena. Insects may be observed with the unaided human eye, bacteria with optical microscopes, individual molecules of materials with electron microscopes. In each case, the same principle is at work in the observation: light bouncing off an object and being received.<span class="citation" data-cites="maxwell:theoretical-entities"><a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a></span></p>
<p>The anti-realist may object: the fact that the distinction between observables and unobservables is blurry does not mean it does not exist. As Samir Okasha notes, the line between “bald” and “hirsute” may be fuzzy (pun intended), but it is still possible to identify a bald man.<span class="citation" data-cites="okasha:science-introduction"><a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a></span> Even granting the in-principle distinction between “observable” and “unobservable,” however, the objection fails to establish the strong claim made by antirealists. It does not establish that the items in question are in fact unobservable (especially when confronted with the realist argument for indirect observation). Nor does it establish that scientists would be in principle incapable of correctly modeling unobservables. At most, it establishes that there <em>may</em> be unobservable phenomena.<span class="citation" data-cites="okasha:science-introduction"><a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a></span></p>
<p>Thus, it is reasonable to suppose that though current models of astronomical behavior, or of quantum mechanics, or gravity, or any other only-indirectly-observable phenomena may be incomplete or partial, they nonetheless represent something <em>actual</em>. There really is an electron leaving a trail in the gas chamber.</p>
</section>
<section id="c.-no-miracles" class="level3">
<h3>c. No Miracles</h3>
<p>The substantial success of science in both predicting and providing coherent explanations for empirical phenomena, it seems <em>prima facie</em> strange that the hypotheses in question would have nothing whatsoever to do with reality. It would be a miracle of sorts if a set of theories which do not directly rely on each other would all work effectively, and effectively <em>in conjunction</em>, while not actually saying anything true about the world. These predictions are more than merely theoretically interesting; they have real-world application used every day: “laser technology is based on a theory about what happens when electrons in an atom go from higher to lower energy-states. And lasers work…”<span class="citation" data-cites="okasha:science-introduction"><a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a></span> It seems reasonable that one reason scientific theories have been so successful is that they are approximately accurate, and increasingly so over time (if in fits and sometimes with false starts).<span class="citation" data-cites="putnam:mathematics:1979 vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a></span></p>
<p>Many critics think the evidence of change in adoption of given theories, and varying degrees of empirical success over time, is hard evidence against the notion that scientific theories generally do refer in this way. Similarly, some theories once held to be <em>true</em> are now thought to be neither approximately true, nor even subsets of what is true. Larry Laudan, citing a number of changes in this vein, sniffs: “The realist’s claim that we should expect referring theories to be empirically successful is simply false.”<span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:confutation"><a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a></span></p>
<p>First, the fact that science is an iterative and approximative process does not tell against the realism asserted. Any given theory may be substantially false. This does not mean all theories are <em>likely</em> not to refer, only that realists must be critical, aware of the possibility of failure, and willing to hold their claims tentatively, especially at first. No scientist with a knowledge of the history of the discipline should think otherwise. Electrons might not exist; but at least for the present, there is good reason to treat them not only as useful but as real. The longer the predictions of the model are (not dis)confirmed by the evidence, the more reason scientists have for holding the conclusion confidently. Likewise, as other theories developed without direct reference provide further corroboration, it is increasingly rational to affirm a theory as true, as well as empirically useful.</p>
<p>Second, even if Laudan’s point is granted, it does not disprove realism. It simply proves naïve realism false—naïve, even. True: empirical success does not guarantee the truthlikeness of a theory, and vice versa. It does not follow that there is <em>no</em> correspondence between the two. Laudan insists that the truthlikeness of a given theory has zero bearing on its empirical fruitfulness, but it is at least possible that it is instead a contributory factor.<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a></p>
<p>Finally, what about later theories which do <em>not</em> make special cases of the earlier theory? When Laudan, Kuhn, van Fraassen, and others examine e.g. the fluid and aether theories and compare them to the atomic theories now held by most physicists, they note that science has been empirically useful without being true in the past; the same may be true today. However, later views, currently held by realists to be accurate, can often explain the success of the earlier theory even without claiming it as a subset.<span class="citation" data-cites="putnam:three-kinds-of-realism"><a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a></span> The atomic theory lets scientists explain the appearance of the aether. Newton’s mechanics can be applied to show why Ptolemy’s epicycles worked, even though they were false. The later theory not only has greater empirical success; its explanatory power also includes the now disconfirmed theory—whether as a special case or not. To be sure, the idea that all science proceeds linearly and that every theory is this kind of empirical superset of the former is incorrect.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a> Still, the fact that later theories <em>often</em> can do so is further evidence that truthlikeness is a contributory factor in the success of scientific theories.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="alternatives-to-realism" class="level2">
<h2>3. Alternatives to Realism</h2>
<p>The two broad categories of antirealism, rational and non-rational, both deny the rationality of believing science truly describes the world.<a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a> Larry Laudan’s instrumentalism, Bas C. van Fraassen’s constructive empiricism, and J. P. Moreland’s eclectic approach are <em>rational</em> antirealisms. They all affirm the rationality of the scientific enterprise and reject conceptual relativism.<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a></span> Non-rational antirealisms such as a strong Kuhnian approach deny the rationality of science and affirm conceptual relativism. Each fails as a critique of or alternative to critical realism.</p>
<section id="a.-larry-laudans-instrumentalism" class="level3">
<h3>a. Larry Laudan’s Instrumentalism</h3>
<p>Instrumentalism takes the effectiveness of science as indicating only its effectiveness in delivering more reliable predictions.<span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:beyond-realism"><a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a></span> Philosophers like Larry Laudan reject as both irrelevant and false the idea of “partial truth” or “verisimilitude” as incoherent: in a semantic model, statements are either true or false. This is partly fair: scientists claim their models have a semantic content corresponding approximately to the world. Yet the critique fails to account for the way scientists use the notion of “approximate-ness.” Models may be incomplete, yet yield correct results <em>when the approximation is appropriate</em>. There are thus three important distinctions to be made. The first is between accuracy (how near the <em>actual</em> value a given experiment is) and precision (the repeatability of a measurement). An archer who consistently shoots four inches to the right of the bullseye is precise but not accurate; one who is always within two inches of the target but all around it is accurate, but not precise. The second is between accuracy and the philosophical binary of truth. A scientific model might in the strict sense be “false”—that is, even its predictions are not empirically <em>true</em>, only <em>close to correct</em>, while the model may be more accurate than any previous model. An arrow is either within the bullseye or not, but there is more to scoring an archery contest—and more to evaluating the accuracy of scientific claims.</p>
<p>The third distinction, and the most serious, is between models’ empirical content and their semantic content. A theory might be said to be “more true,” i.e. more <em>accurate</em>, than any predecessor, if it is more consistent with the empirical data or capable of explaining a broader set of such data. However, the semantic claim is more likely to be binary. Either there are electrons, or there are not. If not, there may be nothing very much like electrons at all. Even so, this distinction is less sharp than Laudan supposes. Increasing approximation of reality is possible. Models may have more or less fidelity. A perfectly round globe may strictly be a false representation of the earth, which is slightly squashed due to its spin; but it is nearer correct than a piece of paper or a donut. The earth is much more like a sphere than a plane or a toroid. If reality is more like the Standard Model of quantum mechanics’ description of electrons and quarks than it is like a pre-atomic view of reality, the Standard Model is a better approximation to reality than the pre-atomic view. Voiding the distinction between accuracy and binary truth is simply a category mistake.</p>
<p>Finally Laudan shows how the scientific methodologies developed over the past several hundred years work, but not <em>why</em>—especially in cases quite different from his example of double-blind clinical studies.<span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:beyond-realism"><a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a></span> In scenarios where technological control over the environment is at stake, science clearly has an edge on other methods (so his critique of relativism stands).<span class="citation" data-cites="vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a></span> It is less clear why drug trials should be amenable to this sort of testing if the human body and drug interactions are not <em>more like</em> the scientific models than the non-scientific models. It was precisely the belief in the accuracy of such models which gave rise to the instrumentally effective methodology! One might posit, then, that <em>realism itself</em> is instrumentally useful in the pursuit of these technological gains. The problem, of course, is that such an epistemic stance is difficult to maintain at best. It is one thing (and not a very controversial one) to say that the scientific method is instrumentally effective. It is another to say that belief in scientific realism is instrumentally effective and false, because no one can sustain a belief they think false.</p>
</section>
<section id="b.-bas-c.-van-fraassen-and-constructive-empiricism" class="level3">
<h3>b. Bas C. van Fraassen and Constructive Empiricism</h3>
<p>In Bas C. van Fraassen’s constructive empiricist model, science is (or at least should be) concerned solely with explaining the empirical data available to the human senses. Theories are useful but not true; they “do much besides answer the factual questions about regularities in the observable phenomena which, according to empiricism, are the scientist’s basic topic of concern.”<span class="citation" data-cites="vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn19" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref19" role="doc-noteref"><sup>19</sup></a></span></p>
<p>At least three major problems confront van Fraassen’s view. One is van Fraassen’s prior commitment to materialist empiricism. He asserts, for example, that criteria such as mathematical elegance, simplicity, scope, completion, unification, and explanatory “provide reasons for using a theory… and <em>cannot</em> rationally guide our epistemic attitudes and decisions.”<span class="citation" data-cites="vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn20" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref20" role="doc-noteref"><sup>20</sup></a></span> Why? Because he regards human observational powers as the sole grounds of knowledge. As such, he also rejects any critique of the limitations of “sense data” or problems with human perception as “armchair psychology” which can safely be ignored.<span class="citation" data-cites="vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn21" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref21" role="doc-noteref"><sup>21</sup></a></span> The <em>sole</em> point of interest, for van Fraassen, is explaining those regularities in observable phenomena. As Grover Maxwell comments, though:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Surely the main concerns of, say, a theoretical physicist involve such things as the actual properties and varieties of subatomic particles rather than mere predictions about where and how intense a certain spectral line will be.<span class="citation" data-cites="maxwell:theoretical-entities"><a href="#fn22" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref22" role="doc-noteref"><sup>22</sup></a></span></p>
</blockquote>
<p>Indeed, even in conducting their ordinary research, theoretical physicists and chemists are concerned with things they think actually exist. However much van Fraassen thinks science <em>should</em> only concern itself with those regularities, realism seems basic to the scientific endeavor as actually practiced.<a href="#fn23" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref23" role="doc-noteref"><sup>23</sup></a></p>
<p>The second problem for van Fraassen is closely related to the first: “empirical adequacy” is a necessary but insufficient condition for the acceptance of a scientific theory. Scientists do (and must) embrace those other conditions for accepting theories as true, and rightly so. Nothing about using those criteria to decide between theories is irrational in the least apart from van Fraassen’s prior commitment to empiricism.</p>
<p>Finally, van Fraassen simply reasserts the distinction between observable and unobservable entities. He begins with the idea of in-principle unobservability, but on encountering Maxwell’s argument from technological improvements, he moves the goalposts. He has in mind, he says, the limitations of human beings “<em>qua</em> human beings;” technological aids actual or imaginable are irrelevant.<span class="citation" data-cites="vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn24" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref24" role="doc-noteref"><sup>24</sup></a></span> As shown above, though, the lack of any such clear distinction is the major problem for the antirealist interested in maintaining this distinction.</p>
</section>
<section id="c.-morelands-selective-antirealism" class="level3">
<h3>c. Moreland’s Selective Antirealism</h3>
<p>J. P. Moreland suggests an alternative from within a Christian epistemology and ontology. He fully grants a generally realist epistemology and affirms a correspondence view of truth. However, he also approves a cautiously eclectic approach to <em>scientific</em> realism.<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn25" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref25" role="doc-noteref"><sup>25</sup></a></span> He offers two major criteria for adopting antirealist stances. The first is “in those cases where the phenomena described by that theory lie outside the appropriate domain of science, or the scientific aspect of some phenomenon is inappropriately taken to be the whole phenomenon itself.”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn26" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref26" role="doc-noteref"><sup>26</sup></a></span> For example: scientific explanations of mind currently tend toward reductive physicalism. But if there are good reasons to suspect that the mind is not reducible to the brain (say: the whole history of dualist arguments), any scientific theory which purports to explain mind solely in terms of material function should be treated antirealistically—as instrumentally useful, but not <em>true</em>. But a critically realist claim about physical-mental state correlation does not entail physicalism. Rather, the physicalist claim is not scientific but philosophical. This should certain chasten the materialists, but it is not proof against realism—not generally, and not even in the case of this specific theory. It is proof only against unwarranted extension from the claim.</p>
<p>Moreland also argues that “an antirealist stances should be taken toward some scientific theory in those cases where a realist view conflicts with a rationally well-established conceptual problem for that theory but an antirealist view does not.”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn27" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref27" role="doc-noteref"><sup>27</sup></a></span> He suggests that the logically problematic claims of some interpretations of quantum mechanics suggest a non-realist interpretation: “the indeterminacy in nature is due to the uncertainty of our knowledge of nature or our inability to measure nature and is not a feature of nature itself.”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn28" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref28" role="doc-noteref"><sup>28</sup></a></span> Similarly, if there are good philosophical reasons for rejecting infinite regress, one should be confident rejecting even an instrumentally-useful cosmological model of an infinite universe.</p>
<p>In these latter examples, however, as well as in the further criteria he briefly mentions,<a href="#fn29" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref29" role="doc-noteref"><sup>29</sup></a> Moreland lumps together two distinct phenomena under the same label of “anti-realism.” One is an in-principle denial that certain kinds of data are available to us; the other a denial that a <em>specific model</em> comports with reality. One might think that all theories about electrons are permanently subject to antirealist critiques and that we can have no true knowledge of such allegedly unobservable entities. This is quite different from thinking that a given cosmological model is wrong. Both entail prior commitments, and the warrant in both cases arises outside science. They are nonetheless different kinds of claims: one about what is knowable, and one about what actually is. Even if Moreland’s criteria were granted, this is very different from van Fraassen’s empiricism or Laudan’s instrumentalism. Rejecting a given theory is quite different from rejecting the possibility of a theory being true.</p>
</section>
<section id="d.-non-rational-antirealism" class="level3">
<h3>d. Non-Rational Antirealism</h3>
<p>The strongest form of Thomas Kuhn’s description of scientific history emphasizes that the theories on either side of a scientific revolution are totally incommensurable, actually operating in “different worlds.”<span class="citation" data-cites="kuhn:revolutions:2012"><a href="#fn30" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref30" role="doc-noteref"><sup>30</sup></a></span> The shift away from Aristotelian is one where Galileo <em>saw differently</em> than he had before.<a href="#fn31" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref31" role="doc-noteref"><sup>31</sup></a> Kuhn’s protests that he understands the problem with the phrase notwithstanding, he regularly reverts to the idea that scientists before and after revolutions lived in different worlds.<span class="citation" data-cites="kuhn:revolutions:2012"><a href="#fn32" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref32" role="doc-noteref"><sup>32</sup></a></span> This cannot be right: even if the theories are distinct in important ways, and even if are not totally commensurable, there are certainly data on which they can agree. Even if what the planets were seen <em>as</em> shifted between the Ptolemaic and the Keplerian eras, the basic observational data were agreeable to both, for example. Likewise, though mass has different semantic content in the Newtonian and Einsteinian conceptions, both agree on many of the empirical values—including problematic measurements which prompted to the transition between them.</p>
<p>Taken as a chastening of overconfident or naïve realism Kuhn’s historical critique is to be appreciated. His view of scientific revolutions leads him (or at least many of his readers) further, though—to conclude that observation is so theory-laden that, though the objective world is “out there” to describe, humans have no true access to it. The data itself is always subject to the flux of another revolution. Such a view, whatever its attractions, is first of all suspect simply on the reality that scientific approaches <em>have</em> accomplished goals (like predicting and controlling floods) which cut across scientific and non-scientific cultures.<span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:beyond-realism"><a href="#fn33" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref33" role="doc-noteref"><sup>33</sup></a></span> Second, any such non-rational antirealism stands clearly opposed to the Biblical idea that truth is knowable and that both moral and empirical data may be true or not—that the final standard is not human knowledge but the God-created reality outside the human knower. Third, such a view is self-defeating, as it claims objective knowledge about scientific theories while purporting that no such objective knowledge is possible.<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn34" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref34" role="doc-noteref"><sup>34</sup></a></span></p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="conclusion-the-best-option" class="level2">
<h2>4. Conclusion: The Best Option</h2>
<p>Scientific realism, then, is the best option. It has its limitations, and specific theories may well not be finally accurate descriptions of reality. Phlogiston, after all, is not real; it may turn out that quarks are not either. But neither radical skepticism nor even hard agnosticism are therefore warranted. Rather, a critical realism which acknowledges the limitations and possibility for inaccuracy in any given model is far more appropriate. This model best accounts for both science’s instrumental effectiveness as a standalone discipline and its applicability to other disciplines. It best makes sense of the philosophical issues around epistemology and ontology. It best explains how scientific theories advance over time, not necessarily linearly but such that later models to tend to be capable of treating earlier models either as special cases or as comprehensible misunderstandings. Not least, it best comports with the Biblical view of truth and knowledge.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="part-ii-excursusrealism-and-creationism" class="level1">
<h1>Part II: Excursus—Realism and Creationism</h1>
<p>Antirealism holds an undeniable appeal to many young-earth creationists. If science is meaningful only in a pragmatic sense, then the creationist may happily accept the utility of science for technological innovation, while still rejecting scientific claims about the age of the earth and common descent of living organisms without any serious conflict. As Moreland comments, “After all, if one does not assume that evolutionary theory is approximately true or objectively rational, then why bother to argue against it or to integrate Christian theological claims about the history of life with evolutionary theory?”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn35" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref35" role="doc-noteref"><sup>35</sup></a></span> The more traditional (and admittedly more straightforward) reading of the Genesis narrative may be maintained, and the propositions of secular science safely sidelined as merely useful models which say nothing about the actual world. More, the off-putting claim often associated with scientific realism, “that science or the scientific method represents the <em>only</em> (or, more weakly, the <em>most</em>) effective instrument for discovering truths about the world”<span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:beyond-realism"><a href="#fn36" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref36" role="doc-noteref"><sup>36</sup></a></span> may be safely rejected.</p>
<p>This excursus aims to show that, whatever the appeals of an antirealist stance for young-earth creationism, such a view is deeply mistaken. First, as seen above in Part I, there are good reasons to embrace realism in general, and to reject the major alternatives on offer. Second, even if one embraces an eclectic stance, <em>a la</em> J. P. Moreland, the relevant criteria do not apply to the creation-science debate specifically. Third, in order for the antirealist objection to prove useful in the creation-science debate, it must go far beyond those criteria anyway—it must treat nearly <em>all</em> modern science antirealistically. It smuggles in a radical skepticism not especially congenial to Christian thought. It proves too much.</p>
<section id="the-argument-applied" class="level2">
<h2>1. The Argument Applied</h2>
<p>The constructive empiricist program has severe problems for the Christian. As van Fraassen freely admits in the introduction to “The Scientific Image”:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>By empiricism I mean the philosophical position that experience is our source of information about the world, <em>and our only source.</em><span class="citation" data-cites="vanfraassen:scientific-image"><a href="#fn37" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref37" role="doc-noteref"><sup>37</sup></a></span></p>
</blockquote>
<p>The motivation for a constructive empiricist view of science, then, is expressly the defense of empiricism. But empiricism as a worldview is antithetical to Christianity. Grover Maxwell searingly points out the underlying philosophical commitment: “the conviction that there are very few ontologically legitimate kinds of entities, perhaps only one.”<span class="citation" data-cites="maxwell:theoretical-entities"><a href="#fn38" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref38" role="doc-noteref"><sup>38</sup></a></span> Empiricism as an all-encompassing <em>gestalt</em> must be distinguished from the employment of empirical methods within other paradigms, of course: the Christian believes that the God-given senses are broadly trustworthy as a means of acquiring knowledge. However, Christians do (and must) affirm that non-empirical sources of data provide real warrant for belief: particularly divine revelation. Constructive empiricism is plainly antithetical to Christian theism—and certainly no friend to a claim about the age of the earth driven entirely by special revelatory considerations!</p>
<p>Thus, the two kinds of anti-realism regularly embraced by young-earth creationists are instrumentalism and J. P. Moreland’s eclectic antirealism. Instrumentalism is at least at first blush much more appealing an option for Christians than empiricism. It allows the believer to affirm that science produces enormously helpful insights for technological advancement and control of the world.<a href="#fn39" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref39" role="doc-noteref"><sup>39</sup></a> Beyond the basic critiques of instrumentalism noted in Part I, however, there are further problems for the young-earth creationist considering instrumentalism as an “out.”</p>
<p>For example, one might reject scientific approaches for measuring the age of fossils or the earth itself. Current isotope decay rates explain some observations, and are technologically applicable to e.g. managing nuclear reactors—but they are merely useful, not true. As such, they are certainly not applicable to the past. Therefore, any claims about their past behavior should thereby be ruled out of bounds. Granted that the past is strictly inaccessible to scientists, this should still give the young-earth antirealist some pause. Dating a manuscript or a particular piece of pottery is not terribly dissimilar to dating a fossil. Taking this stance equally rules out much of the archaeological support mustered for the antiquity of the Bible. For that matter, how can one know that paper did not transmute words in the past? Claiming that documents changed their meaning would seem patently silly, but there is no more and no less evidence for it than that isotope decay rates have changed. Historical investigation of any sort, but especially archaeology, depends on the accessibility of the past much as geology does. It is not at all clear that reasoning about the earth suddenly becomes out of bounds at some arbitrary point far enough back in the past, or that radiometric isotopes should be assumed to be reliable up to a given point but no further.</p>
<p>Worse, while astronomy and geology seem at least partly to follows Laudan’s model of problem-solving—the practice of the disciplines results in more empirically-adequate explanations over time<a href="#fn40" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref40" role="doc-noteref"><sup>40</sup></a>—his pragmatic approach asserts that science never approaches the truth whatsoever. Science solves empirical problems and helps humans accomplish certain technical tasks, but it reveals nothing of the world itself. Like van Fraassen’s constructive empiricism, it is thus contrary to the biblical view of the world.</p>
</section>
<section id="morelands-criteria" class="level2">
<h2>2. Moreland’s Criteria</h2>
<p>Notably, many young-earth creationists such as Ken Ham take an explicitly realist stance toward science overall, arguing for something like the eclectic realism of J. P. Moreland, rather than a true instrumentalism or empiricism. This makes sense: it seems that one or more of J. P. Moreland’s criteria for eclectic antirealism might give warrant for taking an antirealist stance toward some of the relevant theories. However, even if Moreland is right that “We should not automatically assume that if science and theology conflict… the scientific theory should be read in realist terms and attacked accordingly,”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn41" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref41" role="doc-noteref"><sup>41</sup></a></span> there remain two major problems with applying Moreland’s criteria in this way.</p>
<p>First, even if Moreland’s criteria for skepticism are valid, they are not applicable to the majority of the data under consideration in creationist arguments about e.g. the age of the earth. His first criterion certainly does not apply: the investigation of questions like the age of the earth or the life-cycle of stars or even the relationship between various kinds of life on earth all seem to be well within the legitimate territory of scientific explanation. His second criterion, having “a rationally well-established conceptual problem for that theory [which] an antirealist view does not,”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn42" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref42" role="doc-noteref"><sup>42</sup></a></span> seems more applicable. Surely a well-established history of young-earth exegesis counts as a “rationally well-established conceptual problem”? Indeed, this is the strongest argument in favor Moreland’s eclectic empiricism applied to the issue. But of course, interpretations of the early chapters of Genesis have varied widely throughout the history of the church. This suggests at the least that the problem is less well-established that its proponents might think or hope. Moreover, it is relatively straightforward to propose readings of the creation narratives which accord with both the rest of Scripture <em>and</em> with science—far more straightforward than to propose entirely new, mutually compatible systems of physics, geology, biology, etc. The shoe seems to be on the other foot.</p>
<p>What about Moreland’s other suggested criteria?<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn43" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref43" role="doc-noteref"><sup>43</sup></a></span> Most of the fields are <em>not</em> especially young.<a href="#fn44" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref44" role="doc-noteref"><sup>44</sup></a> Few of them (especially the cornerstone fields of astronomy, geology, and particle physics) have experienced a large proportion of theory replacement over refinement of existing theories. None of the fields are in a period of Kuhnian crisis. One stronger contender is that “non rational, sociological factors account for much of the theory’s acceptance by the scientific community.”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn45" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref45" role="doc-noteref"><sup>45</sup></a></span> This certainly looks to be the case in some ways, and it is fair to critique the scientific community on those terms. However, the same could equally be said of the young-earth creationist stance itself: it has at times been difficult even to get a job in conservative evangelical institutions while denying young-earth creationism.<a href="#fn46" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref46" role="doc-noteref"><sup>46</sup></a> Moreover, although the critique stands for some of the fields, it is certainly not applicable to all of them; there is no particular sociological pressure on findings about isotope decay rates relevant to the discussion, for example. Finally, one might claim of evolutionary biology that “the main virtue… is its empirical adequacy, and its more metaphysical, theoretical aspects can be understood as unnecessary, excess baggage”<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn47" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref47" role="doc-noteref"><sup>47</sup></a></span>—but again, the same can hardly be said of isotope decay or stellar life-cycle theories, neither of which has particularly strong metaphysical implications here!</p>
<p>The second, related problem—conflating two distinct phenomena into a single label of “antirealism”—was noted above but warrants further discussion.<span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989"><a href="#fn48" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref48" role="doc-noteref"><sup>48</sup></a></span> Again: one (strict instrumentalism or van Fraassen’s constructive empiricism) is an in-principle denial that certain kinds of data are available to us; the other a denial that a specific model is correct. So for example, one might think that all theories about electrons are permanently subject to antirealist critiques and that we can have no true knowledge of such allegedly unobservable entities; we can never know whether our theories about these things are in fact <em>true</em>. Regardless of whether this claim is correct, it is quite different from thinking that a given cosmological model is wrong, while another one is correct (and demonstrably so if certain key assumptions were to be revisited). Both of these entail prior philosophical commitments, and in both cases the warrant for critiquing the realist claim arises outside of science itself, e.g. from a commitment to empiricism, or from a specific reading of Scripture. But they are nonetheless different kinds of claims: one about what is knowable, and one about what actually is the case.</p>
<p>One can of course imagine an antirealist critique of the former sort being levied against some cosmological model or another, but this is not what young-earth creationists who adopt an antirealist stance toward cosmology (Moreland included) seem to be proposing. Moreover, precisely because these are different kinds of claims, the kinds of warrant for skepticism that are in play for scientific knowledge about electrons or quarks are quite different both in principle and practice from the relevant factors for cosmology, geology, and so on.</p>
<p>Taking an anti-realist stance toward these phenomena, then, requires a radical degree of skepticism—more radical than Moreland’s criteria warrant, and as it turns out with rather sharp consequences for other domains.</p>
</section>
<section id="severe-and-undesirable-consequences" class="level2">
<h2>3. Severe and Undesirable Consequences</h2>
<p>It is not sufficient to grant a certain suspicion about unobserved or indirectly observed phenomena.<a href="#fn49" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref49" role="doc-noteref"><sup>49</sup></a> Rather, the would-be <em>creationist</em> antirealist must commit to rejecting the realist validity of some or all the claims of: nuclear physics, geology, and paleontology (with serious repercussions to archaeology); general relativity; evolutionary biology; and observational astronomy (with direct application to cosmology). The consequences are no less devastating for the Christian worldview than for the physicalist,<a href="#fn50" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref50" role="doc-noteref"><sup>50</sup></a> albeit for different reasons.</p>
<p>First of all, the no-miracles argument applies not only to the question of realism in general but also to the age of the earth and universe specifically. It is profoundly unlikely that one could derive an empirically adequate scientific model of something like fundamental particles without any correspondence to reality. It is at least as unlikely that findings from a variety of unrelated fields should all agree, while also all being totally wrong. Though some young-earth creationists chalk up this outcome to conspiratorial forces in the sciences (so Henry Morris) or to the presuppositions held by non-Christian scientists (so many disciples of Van Til), the claim both strains credulity and also—more to the point—is simply inaccurate both historically and in the present. The history of scientific estimates of the age of the earth is particularly illuminating; committed Christian Lord Kelvin’s early and foundational work already pointed to an age in the millions of years at a minimum. Likewise, many working Christian scientists today find the evidence for the antiquity of the earth and the universe quite reasonable, and they would be neither member of a Morrisian conspiracy nor, as regenerate believers, subject to precisely the same Van Tillian noetic defects as their non-Christian colleagues.</p>
<p>Independent lines of evidence for the antiquity of the universe and the earth include: astronomical observation and theories of star formation; cosmological development models and the prediction and discovery of the Big Bang background radiation in line with those models; geological and paleontological observations and associated data from decay rates which derive from fundamental physics. Many of these lines of data arose independently but have since been found to confirm one another. For example, isotopic decay rates are both predicted by particle physics and well-verified, and provide an independent line of evidence for the age of the earth in line with the ways of estimating that age: from patterns of stratification, to tree ring samples, to similar measurements of the age of other objects in the solar system. Models built up from the plate-tectonic theory of geology corroborates paleontological evidence of geographic colocation of certain species in the past. Radiometric dating of the age of the earth also accords with analyses of the age of the universe based on current models of star life-cycles and the formation of heavy elements, which in turn accord with models of cosmological development. These astronomical observations and analyses depend on both general and special relativity as well. Moreover, the evidence for these individual claims appears quite defensible to many confessing evangelical Christians. That <em>all</em> these independent lines of evidence, leaning on nearly every major area of physics, earth science, and biology should coincide at all—much less so neatly—while being entirely false is just the kind of miracle subject to the critique levied above.</p>
<p>Moreover, this kind of strong antirealism leads to a radical skepticism that seems very out of keeping with Scriptural teaching on the role of nature. Surely passages such as Psalm 19 and Romans 1 indicate clearly that the world has a kind of revelatory content, which points to the nature of the one who created it. But imagine the young-earth creationist adopts an antirealist stance toward astronomical observation as a way of rejecting the apparent age of the universe. This requires asserting all of the following: No star has gone supernova before the last 10,000 years, and thus the heavy elements were all created “in situ” and are not, as currently believed, the product of supernovae. Indeed, any kind of apparent stellar life-cycle is an illusion (or at least: has never actually been experienced by any star). The evidence of background radiation is merely coincidence, and is in fact unrelated to the apparent expansion of the universe indicated by the red-shift of stars further from the earth. The apparent expansion of the universe is just that: apparent only; it has only ever been fractionally different than it is. Whatever the apparent evidence, the light seen is not in fact from the stars apparently observed: given the apparent distance to most stars, and the best models of how stars work, many of the stars in the night sky would have ceased to be visible, whether by exploding into supernovae or by burning down to white dwarfs, long before they were actually created. In other words, there is literally nothing true revealed by observing the stars—not even the brute fact of their existence.</p>
<p>Much the same could be said for the other sciences. The earth shows apparent geological history including incredible catastrophes—ice ages, impacts from meteors, and so on—which in point of fact <em>never happened</em>. This is far more radical than instrumentalism, and stronger even than van Fraassen’s empiricism. It even goes beyond the kinds of claims advanced by the conceptual relativists. There is no possible evidence which could countervail against it. It is sheer fideism.</p>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>4. Conclusion</h2>
<p>Antirealism, particularly of the instrumental or eclectic varieties, may seem appealing to Christians troubled by the claims advanced by modern science. Whether the concern is with a kind of materialist “scientism” which strongly asserts a monadic view of human consciousness, or the apparent contradictions between Scripture and claims about the age of the universe, treating science as useful but not necessarily <em>true</em> seems a helpful escape-hatch. However, adopting such a stance brings along so many other, and such severe, problems that whatever gains appears in this area seem not to be worth the cost—especially if there are other means of reconciling a realist view of science with Scripture’s teaching. Note that this does not mean that young-earth creationism is wrong. There may be other good reasons, including scientific reasons, to think that the earth is young.<a href="#fn51" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref51" role="doc-noteref"><sup>51</sup></a> Programs of research oriented this direction may be fully realist while not affirming the veracity of any particular model. The distinction between principled antirealism and the rejection of a given theory is helpful and important.</p>
<p>Scientists at times maintain their views in the face of contrary evidence, or because of presuppositions they refuse to relinquish. But so may exegetes. If there is good reason to be a realist about science generally (and there is), and seemingly good evidence for the age of the earth (and there is), it behooves Christians at the least to hold their young-earth views tentatively. The strength of the claim that the earth is young, given all the evidence, warrants some humility.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="bibliography" class="level1 unnumbered">
<h1>Bibliography</h1>
<div id="refs" class="references" role="doc-bibliography">
<div id="ref-diegues-lucena:laudan:2006">
<p>Diéguez-Lucena, Antonio. “Why Does Laudan’s Confutation of Convergent Realism Fail?” <em>Journal for General Philosophy of Science</em> 37, no. 2 (2006): 393–403.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-vanfraassen:scientific-image">
<p>Fraassen, Bas C. van. <em>The Scientific Image</em>. Clarendon Library of Logic and Philosophy. OUP Premium, 1980.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-kuhn:revolutions:2012">
<p>Kuhn, Thomas S. <em>The Structure of Scientific Revolutions</em>. 50th Anniversary Edition. 1962. Reprint, The University of Chicago Press, 2012.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-laudan:confutation">
<p>Laudan, Larry. “A Confutation of Convergent Realism.” <em>Philosophy of Science</em> 48, no. 1 (March 1981): 19–49.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-laudan:beyond-realism">
<p>———. “Explaining the Success of Science: Beyond Epistemic Realism and Relativism.” In <em>Science and Reality: Recent Work in the Philosophy of Science</em>, edited by J. T. Cushing, C. F. Delaney, and G. Gutting, 83–105. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-maxwell:theoretical-entities">
<p>Maxwell, Grover. “The Ontological Status of Theoretical Entities.” In <em>Scientific Explanation, Space & Time</em>, edited by Herbert Feigl and Grover Maxwell, III:3–27. Minnesota Studies in Philosophy of Science. University of Minnesota Press, 1962.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-moreland:science:1989">
<p>Moreland, J. P. <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science: A Philosophical Investigation</em>. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1989.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-okasha:science-introduction">
<p>Okasha, Samir. <em>Philosophy of Science: A Very Short Introduction</em>. Very Short Introductions. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-putnam:mathematics:1979">
<p>Putnam, Hilary. “Mathematics, Matter and Method,” Second edition., 1:60–78. Philosophical Papers. Cambridge University Press, 1979.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-putnam:three-kinds-of-realism">
<p>———. “Three Kinds of Scientific Realism.” <em>Philosophical Quarterly</em> 32, no. 128 (1982): 195–200.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-rosenberg:philosophy-of-science:2012">
<p>Rosenberg, Alex. <em>Philosophy of Science: A Contemporary Introduction</em>. Edited by Paul K. Moser. Third edition. Routledge Contemporary Introductions to Philosophy. 2000. Reprint, New York: Routledge, 2012.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-torrance:reality-scientific-theology:1985">
<p>Torrance, Thomas F. <em>Reality and Scientific Theology</em>. Edited by T. F. Torrance. Theology and Science at the Frontiers of Knowledge. Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1985.</p>
</div>
</div>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Larry Laudan, “Explaining the Success of Science: Beyond Epistemic Realism and Relativism,” in <em>Science and Reality: Recent Work in the Philosophy of Science</em>, ed. J. T. Cushing, C. F. Delaney, and G. Gutting (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1984), 89.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>See also the discussion of Bas C. van Fraassen’s constructive empiricism below.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>The following material is adapted from a short essay written for Dr. Welty’s PHI7650 midterm.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>The general problem of induction is left aside and the basic validity of inductive reasoning is assumed for the sake of argument; this is obviously contentious in its own right, and orthogonal to this issue. Perhaps all inferential reasoning is suspect, but if so that tells against empirical and instrumental accounts of science as well.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>Grover Maxwell, “The Ontological Status of Theoretical Entities,” in <em>Scientific Explanation, Space & Time</em>, ed. Herbert Feigl and Grover Maxwell, vol. III, Minnesota Studies in Philosophy of Science (University of Minnesota Press, 1962), 4–11.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p><em>Philosophy of Science: A Very Short Introduction</em>, Very Short Introductions (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), 69–70.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>Okasha, 70.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>Okasha, <em>Philosophy of Science</em>.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Hilary Putnam, “Mathematics, Matter and Method,” Second edition, vol. 1, Philosophical Papers (Cambridge University Press, 1979), 72–73; and <em>contra</em> Bas C. van Fraassen, <em>The Scientific Image</em>, Clarendon Library of Logic and Philosophy (OUP Premium, 1980), 39.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>Larry Laudan, “A Confutation of Convergent Realism,” <em>Philosophy of Science</em> 48, no. 1 (March 1981): 24.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>See the discussion and analysis in pp. 398–399 of <span class="citation" data-cites="diegues-lucena:laudan:2006">Antonio Diéguez-Lucena, “Why Does Laudan’s Confutation of Convergent Realism Fail?” <em>Journal for General Philosophy of Science</em> 37, no. 2 (2006): 393–403</span>.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Hilary Putnam, “Three Kinds of Scientific Realism,” <em>Philosophical Quarterly</em> 32, no. 128 (1982): 197–99.<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>Kuhn’s discussion of Galileo’s measurements vs. those conducted today is enlightening (see <span class="citation" data-cites="kuhn:revolutions:2012"><em>The Structure of Scientific Revolutions</em>, 50th Anniversary Edition (1962; repr., The University of Chicago Press, 2012).</span> 119ff). Note, however, that though Galileo’s measurements are not reproducible today, reasons may readily be adduced for the measurements he took from within the context of later theories—the accuracy of the measuring apparatus available to him, for example. Kuhn’s objection is weaker than he thinks.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p>Categorization from <span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989">J. P. Moreland, <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science: A Philosophical Investigation</em> (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Book House, 1989)</span> 140–141. For a more detailed discussion of the strengths and weaknesses of these views, see <span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989">Moreland</span> ch. 5, though he is perhaps overly sympathetic to antirealist critiques (especially of theoretical physics), on which see below.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 194.<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p>Laudan, “Explaining the Success of Science,” 91.<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p>Laudan, 98–100.<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Fraassen, <em>The Scientific Image</em>, 40.<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn19" role="doc-endnote"><p>Fraassen, 70.<a href="#fnref19" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn20" role="doc-endnote"><p>Fraassen, 87.<a href="#fnref20" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn21" role="doc-endnote"><p>Fraassen, 72.<a href="#fnref21" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn22" role="doc-endnote"><p>“The Ontological Status of Theoretical Entities,” 19–20.<a href="#fnref22" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn23" role="doc-endnote"><p>On the idea of embracing realism instrumentally, see above in §2a, and cf. <span class="citation" data-cites="rosenberg:philosophy-of-science:2012">Alex Rosenberg, <em>Philosophy of Science: A Contemporary Introduction</em>, ed. Paul K. Moser, Third edition, Routledge Contemporary Introductions to Philosophy (2000; repr., New York: Routledge, 2012)</span> 211-214.<a href="#fnref23" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn24" role="doc-endnote"><p>Fraassen, <em>The Scientific Image</em>, 18.<a href="#fnref24" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn25" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science</em>, 193–41.<a href="#fnref25" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn26" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 206.<a href="#fnref26" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn27" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 210.<a href="#fnref27" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn28" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 210.<a href="#fnref28" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn29" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989">Moreland, <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science</em></span> 211; and see discussion in Part II below.<a href="#fnref29" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn30" role="doc-endnote"><p>Kuhn, <em>The Structure of Scientific Revolutions</em>, 111.<a href="#fnref30" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn31" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="kuhn:revolutions:2012">Kuhn, <em>The Structure of Scientific Revolutions</em></span> 119; see pp. 118–124 on this transition specifically and ch. 10 on paradigm-shifts more generally.<a href="#fnref31" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn32" role="doc-endnote"><p>E.g. his discussion of chemistry in Kuhn, 133.<a href="#fnref32" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn33" role="doc-endnote"><p>Laudan, “Explaining the Success of Science,” 94–95.<a href="#fnref33" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn34" role="doc-endnote"><p>So, rightly, Moreland, <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science</em>, 201–2.<a href="#fnref34" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn35" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 142.<a href="#fnref35" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn36" role="doc-endnote"><p>Laudan, “Explaining the Success of Science,” 85.<a href="#fnref36" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn37" role="doc-endnote"><p>Fraassen, <em>The Scientific Image</em>, 8, emphasis mine.<a href="#fnref37" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn38" role="doc-endnote"><p>Maxwell, “The Ontological Status of Theoretical Entities,” 27.<a href="#fnref38" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn39" role="doc-endnote"><p>In this author’s experience, instrumentalism is far more common among Christians trained in engineering than to those trained in the sciences—perhaps (and this is merely speculation) because the engineering disciplines <em>already</em> instrumentalize science. Cf. <span class="citation" data-cites="torrance:reality-scientific-theology:1985">Thomas F. Torrance, <em>Reality and Scientific Theology</em>, ed. T. F. Torrance, Theology and Science at the Frontiers of Knowledge (Edinburgh: Scottish Academic Press, 1985)</span> 22.<a href="#fnref39" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn40" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. <span class="citation" data-cites="laudan:beyond-realism">Laudan, “Explaining the Success of Science.”</span> Interestingly, Laudan’s view comports in this area with van Fraassen’s constructive empiricism.<a href="#fnref40" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn41" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science</em>, 211.<a href="#fnref41" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn42" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 210.<a href="#fnref42" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn43" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 211.<a href="#fnref43" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn44" role="doc-endnote"><p>To be sure, there are related fields which are quite young and, in this author’s view, quite suspect, e.g. evolutionary psychology. But the field’s findings are irrelevant to the age of the earth, and thus to the question at hand.<a href="#fnref44" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn45" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 211.<a href="#fnref45" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn46" role="doc-endnote"><p>Nor is this limited to creationism; for much of the last century, many evangelical institutions demanded fealty to dispensationalism!<a href="#fnref46" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn47" role="doc-endnote"><p>Moreland, 211.<a href="#fnref47" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn48" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Moreland, 206–11.<a href="#fnref48" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn49" role="doc-endnote"><p><em>a la</em> <span class="citation" data-cites="moreland:science:1989">Moreland, <em>Christianity and the Nature of Science</em></span> 210–211.<a href="#fnref49" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn50" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Part I § 2a and 2b above.<a href="#fnref50" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn51" role="doc-endnote"><p>This author tends to think the earth is as old as it appears, and that young-earth views hinge on hermeneutical and philosophical commitments which are unnecessary and incorrect—but this is beside the point.<a href="#fnref51" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Full-On Question-Begging2016-05-12T21:09:00-04:002016-05-12T21:09:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/full-on-question-begging.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>Scientific naturalism, as a worldview (not an instrumental technique applied in certain circumstances) is certainly question-begging. First, the claim that “the physical world is the only thing which exists” is fundamentally …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>Scientific naturalism, as a worldview (not an instrumental technique applied in certain circumstances) is certainly question-begging. First, the claim that “the physical world is the only thing which exists” is fundamentally a philosophical and not a scientific claim. That is, if science is a broadly experimental approach to discovering truth about the physical world, it is incapable of determining whether a non-physical world exists, and it is not even asking—still less answering!—metaphysical questions about the nature of reality. The basic issues of epistemology, ontology, and ethics are themselves not subject to empirical analysis. Evidence from the natural world may certainly be useful and even helpful in considering these domains, but by definition cannot be finally determinative. For example: if the physical world is <em>not</em> the only thing which exists, what sort of purely physical test could demonstrate that? Likewise, if humans have cognitive access to spiritual realities, because they are dualist and not purely physical beings, they might have genuine non-physical experiential knowledge. No ontological, epistemological, or teleological claim is finally resolvable through merely physical testing; claims in such areas are finally philosophical and theological.</p>
<p>Second, the efficacy of science in the domain of explaining the physical world is in no sense evidence that it is a particularly effective way of describing <em>all things</em>. This is akin to suggesting that because musical notation is particularly effective for representing notes to be played, it is the only form of notation required; all written words should immediately be discarded, as should all computer programs. That is, the utility of one form of description or program of study for a given domain does not make it immediately applicable to or indeed at all relevant for other domains. Even with the context of scientific efforts, this is obvious: different techniques are used in observational astronomy than in ecological analysis, and different methods of analysis in assessing the claims of theoretical physics than in analyzing data from a given paleontological dig.</p>
<p>Third, and perhaps most importantly for current debates, the efficacy of science in describing the physical world provides no evidence whatsoever that the physical world is the only thing which exists. To suggest otherwise is simply to commit a basic logical fallacy. This is obvious if the premises and conclusion are laid out explicitly: The argument might be laid out so: “(P1) Science describes the physical world effectively. (P2) Science does not and cannot describe the non-physical world. (C) Therefore, the physical world is the only thing which exists.” But the conclusion clearly does not follow from the premises, even inductively. The argument might be modified into an inductive form: “(P1) Science describes the physical world effectively. (P2) Science has provided increased effectiveness in describing an ever-wider variety of phenomena over time. (P3) In so doing, science has found physical explanations of phenomena which at one time seemed intractable to such explanations. (C1) Therefore, science will at some point in the future find physical explanations for all phenomena. (C2) Therefore, there are no non-physical phenomena.” Even so strengthened, there are two major problems with the argument. First, C1 is an incredibly strong claim, and the purported evidence toward it in this form’s P3 is itself disputed. Moreover, even if C1 were granted, it would offer some evidence for C2 but <em>would not prove it</em>. There still might be reason to think that physical phenomena and their corresponding explanations were expressions of the will of a wise divine being, for example. Moreover, while claims for non-physical purposes for or fundamental explanations of physical mechanisms might then be on shakier ground in virtue of being apparently less simple, the physicalist would need to make a (philosophical) argument for the apparent scientific virtue of simplicity! There is no escape from claims which are themselves not even capable of being tested empirically.</p>
Empirical Equivalence, Real Semantic Difference2016-05-12T21:08:00-04:002016-05-12T21:08:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/empirical-equivalence-real-semantic-difference.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>When two theories make contradictory claims, even were they to have empirically equivalent outcomes, the contradiction in their claims is not merely terminological or semantic. It is fairly easy to conceive …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>When two theories make contradictory claims, even were they to have empirically equivalent outcomes, the contradiction in their claims is not merely terminological or semantic. It is fairly easy to conceive of claims are <em>merely</em> semantically different, but which have the same basic content: “That is a chair” and the Spanish equivalent “ésa es una silla” both have the same basic referents, and even intend broadly the same meaning. Their variance is terminological, by dint of being in two distinct languages. It is far more difficult to find two claims which are in opposition to each other, but their opposition is merely terminological.</p>
<p>This is not just the case in science. To make a claim, scientific or otherwise, is to assert something about the world as it actually is. Thus, “The sky is blue” and “The sky is green but appears to us as blue because all our eyes are defective in a way we cannot measure” would have the same base empirical content, but make very different claims about the nature of human sight and the sky. This particular claim is trivially testable in some other way; but different claims in fundamental physics—empirically equivalent string theories, for example—might not be trivially testable, or testable at all: they might be empirically equivalent in principle as well as in practice. But the trivial example serves to highlight the reality that empirical equivalence does not entail semantic equality. The blueness or greenness of the sky is not merely a matter of human descriptions of things. Rather, even though they are meaningful only because of their semantics, their semantics carry force that is not merely different ways of saying the same thing: that is one of the basic necessities for language to function. If different semantics did not actually entail different claims, communication would be impossible. Less pragmatically, if one affirms that the referents in question are in some sense “out there” and not merely the contents of human speech or human sense data—that is, if one embraces a correspondence theory of truth and a basically, albeit critically, realist view of human knowledge including scientific knowledge—then the notion that two claims are merely terminological variants even though their semantics stand in contrast is clearly false.</p>
<p>To take an example particularly appropriate to a science-and-religion course: it is quite conceivable that a disinterested god (quite different from the one we worship) and a pantheon of disinterested gods and a universe which came out purely by chance would all be empirically equivalent. Yet “there is one bored god out there” and “there is no god out there” and “there are many bored gods out there” are clearly and obviously not terminological variants of each other, even if there is no empirical way to tell them apart. A similar thing would hold of two string theories, one which postulated 12 and the other 28 hidden dimensions. Even if both yielded the same empirical predictions (which were verified) and were in-principle incapable of any further test, they would nonetheless be claims with semantic content about the nature of reality which is <em>not</em> reducible merely to a terminological variant. The fact that the truth or falsity of a claim may not be knowable does not tell against its distinctive semantic content, only against its pragmatic utility. If one of the two string theories suggested above were true, it might not make any practical difference which one it was. After all, if the contents are permanently inaccessible to humans, and the theoretical consequences identical, then either may be used in the pursuit of other knowledge. However, by dint of the fact that they make distinct and countervailing claims to one another, at least one must be false. And truth is no small matter!</p>
Realism, Generality, and Precision—In Tension?2016-05-12T21:07:00-04:002016-05-12T21:07:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/realism-generality-and-precision-in-tension.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>The tension between realism, generality, and precision posited in biology is a function not of those constraints in general, but of the specific constraints on biology and other sciences dealing with …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>The tension between realism, generality, and precision posited in biology is a function not of those constraints in general, but of the specific constraints on biology and other sciences dealing with what is often described as having “emergent” phenomena. The closer the science is to physical first principles, the less these terms stand in contrast. For example, in chemistry, a realist description of the chemicals in question is actually <em>helpful</em> in dealing precisely with the terms in question. The behavior of the chemicals at large scales can be modeled more effectively precisely because the underlying principles are relatively well understood and the phenomenon describable not merely as a representative abstraction but in terms corresponding to what seem to be the <em>actual</em> characteristics of the system in view. The same is true of much of physics. For example, the idea of general relativity is (as its name suggests) extremely general, covering the behavior of all macroscopic systems at least; is sufficiently precise in its predictions to enable extraordinary feats of timekeeping and geolocation; and is understood by the majority of working physicists to be a <em>true</em> and not merely a <em>useful</em> description of how space-time behaves.</p>
<p>The question arises then: assuming the claim is correct for biology, why is this so? The answer seems to be that biological systems are not subject (at least so far as they are understood so far) to be capable of reduction to the same kinds of general theorems as the more purely physical sciences. Though biological is concerned of physical subjects, those subjects seem not to merely the expression of mechanistic phenomena (though of course this point is debated by some physicalist philosophers and scientists). Rather, their behavior emerges atop the underlying physical system, and then diverges in unpredictable ways from individual subject to individual subject. As a result, descriptions of the trends that occur in a given <em>population</em> may be general, but do not do justice to the behavior of any one member of that population, and so are not <em>precise</em>. Thus, ecologies are functions of <em>aggregate</em> behavior, but that aggregation is something like the “average American family”: it is a description of no individual element within the system, but of the combined output of the whole system. Moreover, under even trivially different conditions (a lightning strike occurring in one place rather than another, for example, and changing the behavior of the animals in that area), the specific outcome of the system might have been meaningfully different—even if still able to be modeled under the same general descriptions.</p>
<p>Indeed, most effective general models of behavior in biological systems are neither realistic nor precise. Attempts to model the function of neurons are often precise, but intentionally non-realist and non-general, not least because in most organisms, neurons are non-generalizable: only the simplest creatures have non-differentiated neurons. But in each of these cases, these are functions of the kind of increasingly complex systems, which are not apparently describable purely in terms of their underlying components. The brain, for example, is composed not just of an extraordinarily large number of neurons, but of a great variety of kinds of neurons as well, and the neurons all have the same basic chemical makeup and the same basic genetic structure, but develop in different ways because of specific driving factors in their environment, signals from chemicals driven by other parts of the body, and so on. Any description of any part of this system will necessarily be subject to the constraints the biologist describes simply because there is no single underlying principle driving the system; rather, it is a complex system where each part informs the others. The same is true (and even more so) of systems made up of biological actors, such as communities and ecologies; it is unsurprisingly also a common feature of systems which include actors with agency (such as economics).</p>
Aristotle, Newton, and Progress2016-05-12T21:06:00-04:002016-05-12T21:06:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/aristotle-newton-and-progress.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>Aristotle’s impetus theory provided an effective and predictively accurate (and indeed, <em>scientific</em>) model of the behavior of objects in terrestrial contexts. Though it was later superseded by Newton’s model …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>Aristotle’s impetus theory provided an effective and predictively accurate (and indeed, <em>scientific</em>) model of the behavior of objects in terrestrial contexts. Though it was later superseded by Newton’s model, which had no impetuses at all, Aristotle’s method was a perfectly defensible model because it accounted for the <em>known</em> phenomena well. The method worked because a number of constraints in the systems observed were not yet themselves understood. In a limited sense, Aristotle’s view could be construed as a <em>for-certain-conditions</em> subset of Newton’s laws (though, strictly speaking, this is inaccurate). That is, in the conditions in which Aristotle made his observations, and failing to account for some of the phenomena for which Newton’s approach <em>did</em> account, the impetus model for motion was valid.</p>
<p>In systems where there is resistance—e.g., all terrestrial systems—objects do not remain in motion without some other object providing an impetus to them, and objects of different masses but the same basic size do not fall at the same rate. Newton’s revolution was not in denying this but in recognizing that the grounding assumptions were incorrect: terrestrial systems are a <em>subset</em> of a broader possible systems. Because this is so, there exists a more general set of laws which govern the behavior of objects in both terrestrial and non-terrestrial systems. This in turn led to the recognition that Aristotle had made a false generalization from the observed (terrestrial) data: the idea that objects require impetuses to remain in motion was empirically sound, but incomplete. Thus, a feather and a similarly-weighted needle fall at different rates because their different densities and surface areas relative to their masses result in different degrees of resistance. A bowling ball eventually comes to rest because of the resistive forces it experiences due to friction. These are not the general case, but subsets of the broader laws Newton derived; but Aristotle’s formulation can readily be seen just as that subset, under certain conditions.</p>
<p>This is not an unusual pattern in the history of science, and in fact is similarly applicable to Newton’s own system of mechanics, since superseded by both quantum mechanics and general relativity. As the constraints under which a given law operates become better-understood, it is sometimes possible (at least in the case of physical laws) to derive deeper generalizations about the systems in question, generalizations of which the currently-held set of laws are recognized to be a subset. Granted that at times, the new laws do not supersede but wholly replace the old model, and that both the Aristotle-Newton and Newton-Einstein/QM transitions contain some degree of this latter, it is still the case that newer theories ofttimes succeed because they demonstrate themselves capable of solving the same set of problems as the preceding theory, while also addressing many of the unresolved issues in it. So: Newton was able to derive more, and more accurate, predictions than was the Aristotelian model, and to provide more thorough explanations of the systems in question; and likewise Einstein than Newton. In both cases, however, the original model had the utility it did (and the empirical success it did) precisely because it was in some way a <em>for-certain-conditions</em> subset of the more general theory.</p>
<p>A rather more interesting contrast, then, is between theories where the earlier theory is not even construable as a for-certain-conditions subset of the later, as in the phlogiston theory of combustion, since replaced by an oxidizing view. The idea had substantial explanatory power and harmonized quite well with the data, but was ultimately overthrown by the alternative (and now current, albeit revised) view of oxidation. Such cases, unlike the Aristotelian-Newtonian or Newtonian-Einsteinian/quantum mechanical transitions, are much harder to reconcile with a progressive view of the development of scientific theory, or with realist accounts of scientific explanation.</p>
Statistical Regularities and Explanation2016-05-12T21:04:00-04:002016-05-12T21:04:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/statistical-regularities-and-explanation.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>It is easy to mistake <em>exactness</em> for <em>explanatory power</em> in the realm of explanation. Thus, it might be tempting to suppose that precise and consistent statistical regularities have greater explanatory power …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>It is easy to mistake <em>exactness</em> for <em>explanatory power</em> in the realm of explanation. Thus, it might be tempting to suppose that precise and consistent statistical regularities have greater explanatory power than inexact laws which have an attendant set of constraints and conditions specifying when and how they apply. However, the inverse is true.</p>
<p>Statistical regularity has <em>no</em> explanatory power. It has enormous utility, in that it allows effective prediction. However, it provides no insight into the reason why the regularity is captures occurs. Explanation is at core a matter of determining the reasons why something occurs, not simply observing <em>that</em> it occurs. If on every first, second, and third Tuesday of the month for three hours early in the afternoon small black marks are rendered onto a mostly white LED display, and the range of marks is tightly bounded, and the marks are known to form meaningful words and sentences and even stories, and there can therefore be strong statistical confidence that <em>next</em> Tuesday the same pattern will occur again, this does nothing to <em>explain</em> the marks. What suffices as an explanation is a person using a typewriter to compose the draft of a novel on those Tuesdays when she has a babysitter for her children. This is certainly not even a <em>ceteris paribus</em> law, and yet it has substantially greater explanatory power than does the statistical observation, regardless of the degree of statistical precision available.</p>
<p>By contrast, even inexact laws subject to restrictions and limitations are capable of offering meaningful explanations, because they can offer insight into the causal mechanisms which drive the processes. Though such statements of causality are inherently circumscribed to a certain degree—the <em>ceteris paribus</em> clauses are necessary—they retain the explanatory power that inheres in causal reasoning. It is both legitimate and explanatory to reason that “all other things being equal, Superman will win in a fistfight with Batman because he has superhuman strength and is functionally invincible to human weaponry.” Granted that all other things may <em>not</em> be equal (as in the famous 1980s story from which recent cinema drew more or less inspiration) and that Batman may, if he has access to Kryptonite, bring about a different outcome, in no way diminishes the explanatory power of the original statement. In fact, it may strengthen it by suggesting what kinds of things must be equal for the statement to hold, and suggesting other kinds of causal factors in the system. Since the system that is the universe—even Batman and Superman’s universe—is very large, it is unsurprising that causal relations can only be described with these kinds of constraints. After all, only God could know the total set of forces acting on a system and therefore could deliver a non-<em>ceteris paribus</em> statement of causal factors exhaustively.</p>
<p>This does not mean that statistical regularity is useless for explanation. In fact, it is a powerful tool for reasoning about the state of the world as part of deriving <em>ceteris paribus</em>-constrained causal statements. To derive such causal statements, one must (usually) first derive sufficient data on which to base an analysis at all. Thus, knowing that Superman has been completely invulnerable to all human weapons of whatever magnitude in the past, and that Batman is an ordinary human, is important in being able to state that Superman will win in an ordinary fistfight between the two. The statistical data drives an inference to the best <em>explanation</em> that he is in fact invulnerable to ordinary human weapons (an explanation which we as outside readers know in fact to be true), and grounds the “all other things being equal” statement. If other factors are introduced, so that other things are <em>not</em> equal, the inference from that statistical data set will still hold; but now other causal elements are in play and new statistical data would need to be gathered, for the sake of further reasoning <em>to explanation</em>. The two go hand in hand, in other words.</p>
Counterfactuals and Supervenience2016-05-12T21:03:00-04:002016-05-12T21:03:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/counterfactuals-and-supervenience.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>The natural sciences all claim to use the same basic model of knowledge, and claim to aim for the same kind of explanatory power: the <em>law</em>. However, clearly the kinds of …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>The natural sciences all claim to use the same basic model of knowledge, and claim to aim for the same kind of explanatory power: the <em>law</em>. However, clearly the kinds of laws which have such force in chemistry and especially physics are at least much less common in the other sciences; they may be entirely absent. Biology serves as a prime example of an unquestionably “hard” science in which laws are much harder to come by. Whereas physics includes both descriptive laws (<em>PV = nRT</em>) and explanatory laws (general relativity), biology seems entirely limited to the former. That is, there are e.g. laws describing <em>how</em> populations behave in an ecosystem, but there are no systematizing principles which are thought to offer the same degree of broad explanatory and predictive power as, say, the Standard Model of quantum mechanics. The closest example is a broadly Darwinian model of evolution, but even leaving aside questions about the accuracy of the model, it differs substantially from physical or chemical laws. It offers far less in the way of precise predictions, for one. For another, althought it serves as an explanation, the <em>kind</em> of explanation it offers is distinct in that it does not seem to have the kind of (nomic) necessity possessed by physical laws: even if Darwinian evolution is the means by which life arose on the planet, it by no means requires that life arose <em>as it did</em>; Certainly it is possible that life could have taken other forms even under the same selective pressures, given some other mutation—or have failed to succeed at all.</p>
<p>Biological systems (and yet-higher-level systems like ecologists or economies) demonstrate phenomena that <em>supervene</em> on the underlying physical realities. Unlike physics or chemistry, these phenomena seem, perhaps permanently, resistant to reductive and unifying explanations. This is precisely because of their lack of nomic or causal necessity: counterfactuals are easy to imagine in biology; much less economics. In the most abstract sciences—behavioral psychology, sociology, and economics, for example–it seems that human agency plays a major part in the actual outcomes in the world. Physicalist/materialist claims notwithstanding, it seems quite unlikely that such agency can be reduced to the <em>results</em> of chemical and electrical activity in the brain.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Even at the level of microbes, however, the so-called “emergent behavior” of biological systems is not reducible to mere physical <em>properties</em> as is the case in physics and chemistry.</p>
<p>Again, counterfactuals play one significant part in this: biological systems could be other than what they are. But another significant factor is the purposive nature of organisms. Even the simplest living things<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> have a teleological bent. Even if they were not designed, they themselves carry out certain patterns of <em>directed</em> behavior. They take in energy (eat). They reproduce. Even if this behavior is entirely deterministic, arising purely from the physical states of the organism, it remains irreducible to principles with broad explanatory force. “All living things consume from their environment for energy” is not an explanation; it is a description. "Objects’ motion as described by ‘gravity’ derives from the curvature of space-time’ is an explanation and not merely a description. Biological systems, still less conglomeration of such systems (especially those with minds!) both exist and behave in trivially counterfactuals ways, and therefore not only do not but probably <em>cannot</em> have the kind of nomic necessity present in non-emergent systems. If such a system does exist, it must consist of properties well outside our current sphere of knowledge.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>That the physical state of the brain is closely related to and indeed affects mental state is unsurprising; that they would be the sole cause of mental states (and that there is no influence running the other direction) is a much stronger, and much less well-justified claim.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>and, arguably, strange edge cases and hangers-on like viruses or prions<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Science and Pseudo-Science2016-05-12T21:01:00-04:002016-05-12T21:01:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/science-and-pseudo-science.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>Many differences do not admit of clear or hard distinctions. The difference between science and pseudo-science is just such a difference. There is a clear and intuitively obvious difference between astronomy …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>Many differences do not admit of clear or hard distinctions. The difference between science and pseudo-science is just such a difference. There is a clear and intuitively obvious difference between astronomy and astrology, between medical research and homeopathic remedies, between chemistry and alchemy. This is so even though it is difficult (if not impossible) to specify exactly what set of criteria are both necessary and sufficient to constitute one thing as a pseudo-science and another as actual science. This is not a difficulty specific to this differentiation; few categories are truly binary. Instead, humans normally and rationally distinguish between kinds of things on the basis of sets of criteria. So, as the well-known example from discussions of realism and anti-realism makes clear: humans can tell a bald man from a man with a full-head of hair, even though there is no single point at which one stops being hirsute and starts being bald. Likewise, we can recognize a sunny day from a cloudy day, even though there is a spectrum ranging from <em>not a cloud in the sky</em> to <em>clouds so thick and dark it seems like twilight at midday</em>.</p>
<p>In the case of science and pseudo-science, there are a broad set of criteria which form a sort of diagnostic battery. Different (though overlapping) sets of tests are applicable in different fields. There is one set of discriminants between astronomy and astrology. There is another set between chemistry and alchemy, and another between pharmaceutical research and homeopathy. All share commonalities, but are not identical. For example, astronomy and astrology both rely on observation of the same celestial phenomena; pharmaceutical research and homeopathy both aim to treat physical ills by way of some external treatment.</p>
<p>In the astronomy/astrology divide, the major distinction is <em>applicability</em>. Astronomy applies the observed data to understanding the subject under observation: stars, galaxies, and so on. Astrology applies the observed data to <em>other</em> subjects (namely human lives). The applicability of observations about stars to analysis of stars is straightforward and obvious. The applicability of those observations to predicting human affairs involves a substantial leap from the observation to a non-(physically-)associated subject. The latter is not logically inconceivable: even in a purely physical system of causation, it is possible that the stars’ positions were designed by some creative force to provide just such indicators. However, the claim advanced is much stronger relative to the relationship between the data and the purported effect; the applicability much less obvious; and (last but not least) the claim as usually advanced is <em>not</em> physical but mystical. Again: this does not in and of itself mean astrology is not <em>true</em>. It does mean that it advances claims that are both outside the means by which science is conducted (which, when prediction is involved, usually involve some degree of falsifiability), and also outside the normal <em>application</em> of observations within science.</p>
<p>The pharmaceutical research and homeopathy distinction shares some but not all of these difference-markers. There is certainly an element of repeatability and falsifiability in play, for one. (How effective this actually is, given recent studies in repeatability in pharmaceutical work especially but the sciences in general, is an important related question, but not ultimately final.) However, they do not share the applicability issue in the astronomy/astrology divide. The subject—sick humans—is the same. So is the treatment pattern. Nor is there generally an appeal to non-physical realities. The distinction here seems to be <em>only</em> one of methodology and empiricism. The differences between chemistry and alchemy are of a similar nature. But other science/pseudo-science distinctions will look different.</p>
<p>The problem, then, is not that it is <em>impossible</em> to distinguish between science and pseudo-science, but that there are a broad set of criteria involved in making those distinctions, and the criteria are overlapping but not identical in different fields.</p>
Corpuscularianism and Atomism2016-05-12T20:58:00-04:002016-05-12T20:58:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-05-12:/2016/corpuscularianism-and-atomism.html<p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>One possible point of difference between philosophy and science is the way they proceed toward answering questions and understanding the world. For example, “Corpuscularianism was mere philosophy. Atomism is science,” suggests …</p><p><i class="editorial">The following was prepared as a one-page, single-spaced short response to a question from the readings for this class.</i></p>
<p>One possible point of difference between philosophy and science is the way they proceed toward answering questions and understanding the world. For example, “Corpuscularianism was mere philosophy. Atomism is science,” suggests an important difference: between reasoning from first principles and reasoning from observed phenomena in the world. The idea is that the corpuscularian idea derived not from observations about the world external to the thinker, but from abstract reasoning about the world—that is, not from <em>data</em> but from <em>first principles</em>. This distinction, while initially appealing, has several problems.</p>
<p>First, it simply does not square with the actual history of science. A number of significant advances have come from reasoning about the world. Einstein’s analyses, across all fields (including some related to atomistic views of the world) were famously the product of initial thought experiments <em>followed</em> rather than <em>preceded</em> by mathematical derivation and finally observational data. To be sure, there are many times when scientific understandings change because of data. But this is not the only way scientific interpretations shift. Rather, changes in epistemology, metaphysics, and other prior commitments may lead to substantial reinterpretations of the same data.</p>
<p>Moreover, those reevaluations may themselves produce further scientific work. One thinks of the way quantum mechanics developed over the twentieth century—including the substantial resistance to it from those enamored of more classical and determinist models, Einstein among them; and the multiple interpretive schemes for dealing philosophically with the implications of quantum mechanics’ findings. These are themselves conditioned by the evidence—but do <em>and must</em> supersede it in explanatory power and scope. The various interpretations of quantum mechanics are interpretations not only of the data but the world in which the data lives. A radical indeterminism view, an observer-affected data view, a hidden variable view, and so on all offer up points of view which inform the work done by the scientists themselves in an inherent feedback loop. Philosophy and science are not the same, but they are inextricable from each other; one’s prior commitments inevitably shape the answers one will find to some degree or another.</p>
<p>As such, this view fails to deal with the way that those philosophical commitments drove scientific exploration. The belief in a corpuscularian was part and parcel of the discovery of atomism. That there were philosophical reasons for accepting the view prior to observational evidence for it actually serves to reinforce rather than undercut the view. Indeed, the phrasing of the proposition itself is suspect. “Mere” philosophizing, as noted above, necessarily underlies all scientific research programs. At the most basic level: a commitment to the existence of an external world to be interacted with and discovered, the reliability of experience as a kind of evidence, and the generalizability of data via induction and inference to the best explanation are all necessary for the practice of science.</p>
<p>Moreover, if one entirely rejected in an <em>a priori</em> sense that it was possible to discover anything not directly observable (say, because one rejected any sort of corpuscularianism, or because one was a strict anti-realist, or for any number of other reasons), one would simply not look for evidence in that direction. Whatever experiments revealed, an individual with those commitments would not go looking for atoms or evidence of them. The evidence might, over time, suggest a revision of the worldview, and this sort of empirical refutation of the paradigm is of course the point of the proposition. Unfortunately for the proposition, this is not a distinction between philosophy and science, but between unrelenting dogmatism and critical realism. Science may be deeply dogmatic, and philosophy may readily revise its conclusions in the face of new evidence. Such evidence may differ in kind: it might be a a logical proof rather than physical data, as Gödel’s incompleteness theorem forced a revision in logical positivism. It does not, however, lead to an in-principle difference in method.</p>
Don't Be a Brand2016-04-26T20:50:00-04:002016-04-26T20:50:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-04-26:/2016/dont-be-a-brand.html<p>Don’t be a brand, pastor.</p>
<p>It’s tempting. There are a thousand reasons why it looks like a good idea. Church marketing consultants tell you it’s good for your church’s profile at large, and indeed it might bring some attention to the things your church is doing …</p><p>Don’t be a brand, pastor.</p>
<p>It’s tempting. There are a thousand reasons why it looks like a good idea. Church marketing consultants tell you it’s good for your church’s profile at large, and indeed it might bring some attention to the things your church is doing. Leadership journals might tell you how you can use your gifts more effectively. You see other godly men with big platforms, doing great things for the kingdom. Their podcasts, conferences, churches, ministries all flourish, it seems, at least in part on the strength of their public personas.</p>
<p>Don’t do it.</p>
<p>Don’t promote your sermons every chance you get. Don’t retweet your people’s compliments. Don’t feel the need to highlight every blog post you write. Don’t make much of yourself.</p>
<p>Don’t be a <em>brand</em>.</p>
<hr />
<p>Look: social media is a good thing. And I’m writing this from a blog which I’ve maintained in various forms for the better part of a decade now, on which I have posted a great deal of theological reflection. I have my student sermons posted here and elsewhere online. Just because of those realities, I know, even with the least of credentials in ministerial vocation, even with no “reach” to speak of, the temptation to promote my name. I know the temptation to make a brand out of “Chris Krycho.” I want people to listen to my sermons and think they’re good. I want them to be impressed with my voice, my delivery, my exegesis, and the way I point them to God. (Yes, even that last.) And this is all the <em>opposite</em> of what faithful Christian ministry looks like.</p>
<p>When I say, “Don’t be a brand,” I mean: don’t make the enlargement of your camp of followers a goal. Make it an <em>anti-goal</em>, even. When you see people chasing your shadow, point them back to their own churches and their own pastors. Remind them that they live where God planted them, and it is <em>good</em>. You are not their pastor for a reason.</p>
<p>This temptation isn’t totally peculiar to pastors. But it is peculiarly dangerous.</p>
<p>If I promote <a href="//www.newrustacean.com">New Rustacean</a>, and that comes to my credit to some degree, I can certainly take pride in it in all the wrong ways. I can hang my self-worth on it. (The reality: I’ve occasionally done just that with <em>all</em> my public work online.) But even if I were, stupidly and sinfully, to make a brand out of myself with that—not just a public identity, but a marketable version of myself which ✨sparkles✨ with my glorious skill at talking about programming languages—at least I wouldn’t be doing it in the name of God. At least I wouldn’t be claiming to point to Christ while making a name for myself.</p>
<p>Don’t become a brand no matter what: not even for the sake of being a well-known and well-liked programmer. But whatever you do, do not dare—not for a moment—to take your ministry and use it to draw attention to yourself. Remember (when you preach, when time you write, when you craft a song) that the call to self-exaltation endemic to fallen humanity is a necrotic rot. It will ruin you.</p>
<hr />
<p>There is a place for tweeting out your sermons, for sharing your blog posts on Facebook. You can publish a podcast on theology. You can use the tools of social media to use your gifts as public goods.</p>
<p>But think hard about the <em>way</em> you use these platforms, and about <em>how much</em> you use them. Think about whether your sermon feed should be private. Think about whether you should share your blog posts publicly on Facebook, or only to your church’s private group. Think about your goals and motivations in making a podcast, and chasten your aims.</p>
<p>Don’t go looking for a bigger platform and more attention. Serve your local church faithfully. God might give you a platform, and if so, use it judiciously (and say no to many things). And if no such platform comes, remember two things: First, God is good and loves you; a big stage might destroy you. Second, your local church is good, and you are called to love <em>those</em> sheep, not the more numerous sheep in greener pastures elsewhere.</p>
<hr />
<p>Yes, I’m going to share a link to this when I publish it in a few minutes. And yes, I do so with some trepidation, and a sense of irony.</p>
<p>I make these choices carefully. I happily promote my podcasts: Winning Slowly and New Rustacean, and even Sap.py and Run With Me—but I do not tweet or post my sermons on Facebook. (And I need to turn off Vimeo’s automatic sharing.) I don’t publicize that RSS feed. It exists; family and friends who care to can subscribe. But I do not and <em>will not</em> make a habit of pointing to those things. If others find them profitable, well and good; glory to God. But I will not be a brand.</p>
<p>Use the tools; glorify Christ with them. But use them prudently.</p>
God is With Us2016-04-12T19:15:00-04:002016-04-12T19:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-04-12:/2016/god-is-with-us.htmlWe love and obey God; God dwells with us.
<p><i class="editorial">The only constraints on this sermon were that it be between 15 and 25 minutes long, and be on a text from the Old Testament. Audio is recorded with <a href="https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/app/ferrite-recording-studio/id1018780185?mt=8&at=1001l4KM">Ferrite</a>, using an <a href="http://www.apple.com/iphone-se/">iPhone SE</a> placed on the podium.</i></p>
<section id="audio" class="level3">
<h3>Audio</h3>
<p><a href="http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.m4a/cdn.chriskrycho.com/sermons/2016-03-08.m4a">Download</a></p>
<audio title="God Is With Us" controls="controls" preload="metadata" src="http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.m4a/cdn.chriskrycho.com/sermons/2016-04-12.m4a" type="audio/m4a">
Sorry; your browser doesn’t support m4a files. Try downloading the file directly and playing it in iTunes or another media app.
</audio>
</section>
<section id="video" class="level3">
<h3>Video</h3>
<div class="iframe-wrapper four-to-three">
<iframe title="God Is With Us" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/162628625" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen>
</iframe>
<p>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/162628625">God Is With Us (John 14:15–31)</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/chriskrycho">Chris Krycho</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.
</p>
</div>
<hr />
</section>
<section id="god-is-with-us" class="level1">
<h1>God Is With Us</h1>
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>I was recently reading a long article on President Obama’s foreign policy, and something caught my attention as I was reading through the article. There’s a great scene where they’re sitting on a plane in another country, and people are waiting for the President to get off the plane, and the reporter tries to prod him that it might be time to leave, and the President just keeps talking. And what struck me was that <em>relationship</em>, where he could prod the President that <em>maybe it’s time to leave.</em> You don’t get that kind of relationship by standing up in the middle of a White House press conference and demanding up-close and personal access. You get it because the President initiates it and invites you to have it with him.</p>
<p>There’s a fairly obvious analogy to our friendship with God here, and you may well have heard it before. But it rings true. And more than true, in this case: it’s as if the President came and said, “Hey, I’m going to make you a room in the White House. But in the meantime, I’m going to come live with <em>you</em> and share everything I have with you.”</p>
<p>As we read through the passage, look for two things, our two themes for this evening:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>We love and obey God</li>
<li>God dwells with us</li>
</ol>
<p>Again: <em>we love and obey God</em> and <em>God dwells with us</em>.</p>
</section>
<section id="body" class="level2">
<h2>Body</h2>
<p>Read with me, starting in verse 15, and on down through verse 31:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, for he dwells with you and will be in you.</p>
<p>"I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Yet a little while and the world will see me no more, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.</p>
<p>Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him." Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, “Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us, and not to the world?” Jesus answered him, "If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words. And the word that you hear is not mine but the Father’s who sent me.</p>
<p>"These things I have spoken to you while I am still with you. But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.</p>
<p>Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I will come to you.’ If you loved me, you would have rejoiced, because I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you before it takes place, so that when it does take place you may believe. I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father. Rise, let us go from here.</p>
</blockquote>
<section id="i.-we-love-and-obey-god" class="level3">
<h3>I. We love and obey God</h3>
<p>Throughout this passage, we see those two themes: we love and obey God, and he dwells with us. And they always seem to come in that order.</p>
<p>Look at verse 15:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father…</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Or verse 21:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Whoever has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me. And he who loves me will be loved by the Father…</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Or verse 23:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him, and make our home with him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And by the same token:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Whoever does not love me does not keep my words.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Now, our obedience doesn’t <em>bring about</em> the Spirit filling us. Our obedience isn’t why God dwells with us. In fact, it’s Jesus’ obedience to the Father, going to die at the hands of the ruler of this world, down there in verse 30, and his resurrection, which we see in verses 18–20, which make fellowship with God possible.</p>
<p>But clearly, our obedience matters. It’s constantly tied to God’s dwelling with us in this passage. Jesus opens with it because he was talking with people who <em>did</em> love him. This is <em>comfort</em> in the midst of what is about to be a very difficult trial. When they might feel left alone like orphans, and needed to known they were his, and he would come back to them.</p>
<p>So why obedience? Because it is a sign of love. We see that at the end of the passage, in Jesus’ love for the Father and his obedience flowing out of that. And we can see it in our own lives, too. If my daughters are dishonoring their mom by disobeying her, there is something wrong with their love for her. Sometimes when we are talking to or disciplining our three-year-old, we tell her, “Hey, your loves have gotten out of order.” She is loving good things, but in the wrong proportions.</p>
<p>And we all do that. When we <em>don’t</em> obey God, when we don’t keep his commandments, it is precisely because we our loves are disordered or mis-ordered. We love things in the wrong way, or we have love them with the wrong priority. Above all, we love other things more than our Father. Not like Jesus.</p>
<p>What does it look like when we <em>do</em> love God?</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>For one, <em>knowing</em> his words. You can’t keep them if you don’t know them!
<ul>
<li>Read the Bible</li>
<li>Talk about what Jesus said with friends and family, just as part of the ordinary course of your day.</li>
<li>Memorize Scripture, so it’s there in your mind as you go through life.</li>
</ul></li>
<li>Practice daily obedience to his words—not just the flashy, exciting kind, but the ordinary ways we seek holiness.
<ul>
<li>Be kind to your neighbors.</li>
<li>Go to church.</li>
<li>Love your in-laws well.</li>
<li>Tell others the good news of all that Jesus has done and will do.</li>
<li>Help your kids with their homework even when you’d rather be reading, and don’t be grumpy at them.</li>
<li>Deal with your children graciously, kindly, and patiently, even when disciplining them.</li>
<li>Give generously to support the church and missions work.</li>
<li>Give generously to those who are in need, period—to whomever asks.</li>
<li>Forgive others when they do you wrong.</li>
<li>Tell others of this great hope and joy!</li>
<li>Live in community with other believers: be open to correction, and to encouragement—and give the same!</li>
<li>Repent of your sins, both privately and publicly.</li>
<li>Serve where there are needs.</li>
<li>Turn the other cheek and bless those who curse you.</li>
<li>Do your work whole-heartedly, for the sake of the God who dwells in you, and not for man!</li>
<li>Be honest and truthful in your financial and professional dealings</li>
</ul></li>
</ol>
<p>And remember, that’s not a list of ways to get into God’s good graces. It’s a list of ways we respond because we are are already in God’s good graces. Those are things we do because we are confident we are loved. We show him our love by our joyful obedience.</p>
<p>But in truth, we find that hard. We need help, dealing our disordered and our mis-ordered loves. We forget that we are loved. We forget that we’re not alone, orphans in a cold world.</p>
</section>
<section id="ii.-god-dwells-with-us" class="level3">
<h3>II. God Dwells With Us</h3>
<p>But we’re not. God dwells with us. That’s the hope, and the help, that we need. God dwells with us.</p>
<p>Look at that question there in the middle: Judas (not Iscariot) asks, “Lord, how is it that you will manifest yourself to us, and not to the world?” That’s a good question. And what Jesus does here is take his first answer, and carry it even further out of the realm of what Judas understood then.</p>
<p>Jesus opens this passage, having just told them how he is going to go away to the Father and prepare a place for them, and he says, “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another helper” (another advocate, or a friend-in-court, someone to carry you through the trial) “to be with you forever.” The disciples were where, I think, any of us would be in their shoes. <em>Jesus says he’s ‘going to his Father’? What does that mean? Are we going to be alone?</em></p>
<p>A few weeks ago, I traveled for work, and I ended up being gone for about a week and a half. I have two little girls, and one of them was about nineteen months old then, and she was a <em>wreck</em> after that. For weeks, every time I went <em>near</em> the door—if I so much as went to take out the trash, she would <em>lose</em> it. She didn’t understand where I had gone, or why, or when I was going to come back. And she loves me. She didn’t want me to leave again. She wanted me to be with her.</p>
<p>That’s where the disciples were. It makes sense. That’s why Jesus told them, “I’m not going to leave you as orphans. I will come to you.”</p>
<p>But when Jesus explains <em>how</em> he will come to them: “I will ask, and the Father will send you a Helper, and he will be with you. The world won’t see me, but I will show myself to <em>you</em>,” you can see where Judas’ confusion comes from. Jesus’ answer, and really this whole passage, points us to <em>something</em>…</p>
<p>I can’t fully capture all this passage says. I have wrestled with it for <em>weeks</em>, and there is just so much here. I can’t capture it. Look at verse 23: “If anyone loves me,” Jesus says, “he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.”</p>
<p>I can’t give you a summary, but maybe a window, looking at an ocean.</p>
<p>God dwells with us.</p>
<p>God… dwells… with us.</p>
<p>I said “a window on an <em>ocean</em>” because the depths here… More than an ocean, there is a <em>universe</em> of depth here. There are depths here which we will never finish plumbing. We could, for eternity, dive deeper, and deeper into that reality. We <em>will</em> for eternity dive deeper. But we will never exhaust its depths. We will never say, “Oh: that’s how deep the love of God goes; that’s where it stops.” And this mystery? There is more.</p>
<p>God dwells with us.</p>
<p>If you’re a believer, if you love God and keep his commands, this ocean is yours. And friend, listen: if you’re hearing this word and you <em>don’t</em> yet love God—you’re <em>not</em> keeping Jesus’ words—<em>this</em> is what is freely offered to you: in Jesus’ first dwelling with us in the Incarnation; in his life, obeying the Fathers’ plan all the way through to his death on our behalf; in his resurrection; in his asking the Father to send the Spirit—salvation offered freely to you. The God who has always been, the God who exists in eternal love in the Trinity, wants to dwell with you. So turn from your rebellion against God, and love God—and know that you are loved by him!</p>
<p>He promised them they would see him again (in verses 19–20), a pointer to the resurrection. But more than that, we see in his promise of peace, and even in his telling them ahead of time that he was leaving, preparation for the time when he would have ascended. Like now. We don’t see Jesus with these eyes.</p>
<p>But we still need to know we’re not orphans. We still need peace, and not like the world gives it. We need God to be with us.</p>
<p>Imagine there were a way I could tell my little girls, “I’m going away to do some work for you, but even while I’m gone, I will come to you.” Isn’t that what Jesus does here? “I’m going to my Father to prepare a place for you” but now, to your distress about that: “the Father and I will come to you.”</p>
<p>How? “I will ask the Father,” Jesus says in verse 16, “and he will give you another Helper, to be with you forever, the spirit of Truth… he dwells with you, and will be in you.”</p>
<p>The Spirit of the living God: his breath; our helper, our advocate and friend-in-court; our teacher, who will remind us of everything Jesus said to us, who inspired these Scriptures and now applies them to us; the peace that we need.</p>
<p>Because Jesus didn’t go away and leave them orphans. He didn’t leave <em>us</em> orphans.</p>
<p>God dwells with us, because his Spirit is with us and in us. And just as the Father and the Son are one (as we see both earlier in this chapter, and again here in verses 20 and 24) the Spirit is one with the Father and the Son. They act together, but it’s more than that. The way Jesus talks in this passage: “We will come to him, and make our home with him”; or the way Paul talks in Ephesians: “You are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit”. Where the Spirit is, the Father and the Son are, too.</p>
<p>So when the Father does as the Son asks, and sends us the Spirit to dwell with us, he is giving us <em>himself</em>. We have access in one Spirit to the Father. When someday we are glorified, and heaven has come down to earth, and the dwelling place of God is physically with man, when we can see the risen Lord with our own eyes—</p>
<p>The Spirit will still dwell with us. He is with us <em>forever</em>. He is our union with God. Jesus is in the Father, and we are in him, and he is in us—through the <em>Spirit</em>.</p>
<p>We somehow—again, depths beyond us—we participate, through the Spirit, in the life of God.</p>
<p>He, mystery of mysteries, he wants to dwell with us.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="conclusionexhortation" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion/Exhortation</h2>
<p>As we close tonight, three things to take away.</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p><strong>Reflect.</strong> John wants us to reflect on this mystery: God has made us his <em>home</em>. God dwells with us.</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Obey.</strong> If we love him, we’re going to obey Jesus’ words. So remember that as we go out from here. Keep his word—not to persuade God to love you, but because he <em>already does</em> love you, because he <em>already</em> dwells with you, because you and I together are <em>his temple</em> and <em>his tabernacle</em>. So keep his word. Demonstrate (like you would to a friend or a child or a spouse, but so much more) that you <em>love</em> him.</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Peace.</strong> As we go out from here, we might think to say, “God be with you!” But perhaps better, in light of this passage, to say, “God <em>is</em> with you. Go in peace.”</p></li>
</ol>
</section>
</section>
Why We Gather2016-04-03T10:11:00-04:002016-04-03T10:11:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-04-03:/2016/why-we-gather.html<p>One of the reasons we meet together as a church every Sunday, no matter what; and one of the beauties of taking the Lord’s supper together every Sunday, no matter what, is this:</p>
<p>Today, my morning so far has involved one child being mildly fussy, and the other having …</p><p>One of the reasons we meet together as a church every Sunday, no matter what; and one of the beauties of taking the Lord’s supper together every Sunday, no matter what, is this:</p>
<p>Today, my morning so far has involved one child being mildly fussy, and the other having a series of protracted meltdowns which including urinating on me. It includes the dreadful strains of children’s entertainment in the background as I write these very words: the kind of thing that seems calculated to annoy me.</p>
<p>But this is the Lord’s day. Not mine.</p>
<p>We will gather in a few hours to proclaim the one who lived in this same world, in all its brokenness. We will sing to remind each other of the way Jesus fulfilled and finished the hope of Israel, of how he died, of how he <em>lives</em>. We will hear the word of our Lord preached, words that are true and lasting. We will take the Lord’s supper together as a lasting reminder of what he did, as a sign of his lasting presence with us today, and as a promise of the future wedding feast that we will partake of together. We will share the week’s joys and sorrows with each other. It will be imperfect, messy, possibly out of tune and with more than a few crumbs on the floor. But it will be <em>good</em>.</p>
<p>We gather regardless of how we feel, or of what our circumstances are. We need each other, and we need the reminder that the things we experience day-in and day-out are not final or ultimate. We gather as a reminder that the little tastes we find of the Kingdom in the gathering are tastes of a future that really is coming.</p>
The Titles Father, Son, and Holy Spirit as Denoting Being, Not Activity2016-03-26T20:30:00-04:002016-03-26T20:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-03-26:/2016/the-titles-father-son-and-holy-spirit-as-denoting-being-not-activity.htmlKarl Rahner's famous dictum, “The ‘economic’ Trinity is the ‘immanent’ Trinity, and the ‘immanent’ Trinity is the ‘economic’ Trinity,” is a helpful and accurate summary—but must be applied carefully.
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<hr />
<p>Rahner’s Rule famously states that “the ‘economic’ Trinity is the ‘immanent’ Trinity, and the ‘immanent’ Trinity is the ‘economic’ Trinity.”<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></span> The dictum has been much debated and stands as a major point of consideration—not to say contention!—in modern Trinitarian doctrinal discussion. This paper will establish that Rahner’s rule, rightly understood and articulated,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> is correct and essential for the Christian faith, and leads inexorably to the conclusion that the names “Father,” “Son,” and “Spirit” are titles of God in being, and not only in activity. The triune <em>actions</em> of God are the result of his triune <em>being</em>; therefore, God’s work in salvation history is truly self-revelatory. Thus, Christians may claim to have right and proper, though not exhaustive, knowledge of the divine nature through his mighty works in history. The one true, Triune God has acted in history as the Father of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Logos, and the Spirit of the Father and the Son—and in this he has not presented a charade, but the Godhead as it truly is. Thus, Christians are right to understand God as being <em>in essence and being</em>, and not merely in <em>action</em>—that is, <em>in se</em>—Father, Son, and Spirit.</p>
<p>A definition of the terms may be helpful: the “economic” Trinity is the Trinity at work in history (and especially salvation history). The “immanent Trinity” is God present to himself (<em>in se</em>); it might well be termed the “ontological” Trinity or “eternal” Trinity.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> Thus, Rahner’s claim entails at least 3 sub-claims: God is Trinity in being; God’s Triune nature is revealed <em>only</em> through (salvation) history; and God’s Triune nature is <em>truly</em> revealed through salvation history.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> Responses to Rahner’s dictum since its 1970 publication in <em>The Trinity</em> have taken it in one of two major directions: “radicalizing” and “restricting.” Authors following the radicalizing course reduce the immanent Trinity to the economic trinity. As a consequence, they often tie human knowledge of (and sometimes the actual being of) God to his development along with the cosmos, or to human experience of God in the Incarnation specifically. In constrast, the “restricting” interpreters affirm Rahner’s rule but note its limits. In particular, they tend to emphasize that the being of the Trinity is independent of salvation history, though rightly revealed in it.<span class="citation" data-cites="sanders"><a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a></span> This paper takes the later stance.</p>
</section>
<section id="analysis" class="level2">
<h2>Analysis</h2>
<section id="scriptural-basis" class="level3">
<h3>Scriptural Basis</h3>
<p>Several passages in the New Testament emphasize most clearly the integral (and not merely functional) unity and relationship of the Father and the Son, and likewise the essential relationship of Spirit to Father and Son. In each case, the claim’s truth depends on the eternal relations between the persons being precisely those revealed in salvation history.<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a></p>
<p>Throughout his prologue, John is at pains to demonstrate that the Logos eternally dwells as Logos and as God—and <em>as Son</em>. In 1:14, John emphasizes that the glory of the Incarnate Word is as (that it: it <em>is</em>) the glory of the only Son from the Father. He follows this with the assertion that “the only God, who is at the Father’s side, he has made him known” (verse 18). In John 10:15, Jesus himself proclaims that he knows the Father and the Father knows him; in 10:30 he declares, “I and the Father are one.” The consistent claim of John’s gospel, then, is: Jesus, the Incarnate Logos, knew and revealed the Father as his Son. For the claim to be coherent or true, two things must hold.</p>
<p>First, Jesus’ knowledge of God as his Father could not merely be a statement of the state of affairs between them during the Incarnation. If that were the case, the knowledge he claims would be knowledge not of the Father as he is, but only of the human experience of God as wholly other, transcendent, unreachable—not, that is, of God as immanent. It would not be the knowledge of God as he is within his own triune self. Second, and consequentially, the revelation Jesus offered his disciples of God would likewise be not of God as he is in himself, but only the human experience of God. If God is not Father to the Son and Son to the Father <em>in se</em>, but only in acts in history, then the revelation of God as the “Father of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Eph. 1:3, Col. 1:3). Moreover, the apostles claimed Jesus to be “the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15) in whom “all the fallness of God was pleased to dwell” (Col. 1:19); the “radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature” (Heb. 1:3). Again, if Jesus’ acts in history can be separated from his <em>nature</em>, these claims become meaningless. Jesus’ Sonship and his making a way to the Father are central to the apostolic preaching. If Sonship and Fatherhood are not part of God’s nature, Jesus could neither have imaged God nor carried the exact imprint of his nature.</p>
<p>Likewise, Jesus’ promise to ask the Father to give the Spirit (14:16–17), which finds its fulfillment after the ascension of the Son, highlights the eternal relation between the persons. Whether during or after (or indeed before) the Incarnation, the Son speaks to the Father <em>as Father</em>, and the Father sends the Spirit <em>as his Spirit</em> at the Son’s request <em>as Son</em>. Thus, in John 14:15–29, Jesus explains that the coming of the Spirit <em>is</em> the coming of the Son. To have the Spirit of truth is to have the Son who is in the Father, in oneself. The Father and the Son come to a believer when the Spirit comes to her (14:20). The Son comes to the one whom the Spirit indwells (14:21, 28). The Spirit proceeds from the Father and bears witness about the Son who sent him (15:26). But as with the persons of the Son and the Father, this identity cannot be if the persons are not merely acting in this way, but rather eternally subsist, eternally are <em>being</em> the Father of the Son and Son of the Father and Spirit of the Father and the Son. How could the Spirit bear witness truly to the Son, or rightly be said to be sent by the Father, if the Son and Father are not actually Son and Father, but only act as such in the history of salvation? In that case, the Spirit might be sent in salvation history, but would not bear witness to the Son as he is <em>in himself</em>. The revelation would be of something less than God—not at all what Jesus promised.</p>
<p>In each case, it is clear: Scripture claims that the actions of the Triune God in history reveal him as he is. The Son truly reveals the Father. The Father truly sends the Spirit through the Son. The Spirit truly glorifies the Father and the Son. These are so because the Spirit, Son, and Father act in accordance with their eternal, immanent relations. The efficacy of God’s reconciling, saving work—the Son drawing people into his own communion with the Father through the indwelling Spirit—depends on the economy of salvation being the outworking of God’s own nature. Their relations within the Godhead which precede, ground, and perfectly inform their actions. Thus, Rahner’s rule might helpfully be elaborated and rephrased: the economic Trinity (rightly and truly, but inexhaustively) reveals the immanent Trinity, because the economic trinity derives wholly from the being of the immanent Trinity. Being drives action, and action (partially, but truly) reveals being.</p>
</section>
<section id="rahner-evaluated" class="level3">
<h3>Rahner Evaluated</h3>
<p>Though Rahner’s Rule is strictly correct, his own elaboration of these ideas has its limits: not least in its tendency, as he developed it, toward modalism.<a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> Thus, Letham observes that Rahner’s discussion of persons as “distinct manners of subsisting” leaves little room for <em>love</em> between the subsisters.<span class="citation" data-cites="letham"><a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a></span> However, the solution is not to abandon Rahner’s dictum, but to press on it more firmly, more clearly, and more Scripturally. After all, the Scriptures bear witness to the triune God’s actions precisely as their interacting not merely as “subsistences” but as persons-who-love. The Son does the Father’s will and shows the Father truly, and they send to their people the Spirit who communicates everything of the Father and the Son. As Torrance comments:<span class="citation" data-cites="torrance"><a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a></span></p>
<blockquote>
<p>Thus when we approach God as Father through the Son, our knowledge of the Father in the Son is grounded in the very being of God and is determined by what he essentially is in his own nature… in Jesus Christ we are really enabled to know God in accordance with his own nature as Father and Son…</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But this is <em>not</em> the case if the economic Trinity and the immanent Trinity are truly distinct. The Incarnation reveals God as he is in himself <em>only</em> if the God’s works flow from his being and essence, in the relations Father, Son, and Spirit.</p>
<p>Likewise, Letham is right that Rahner partially neglects the immanent Trinity and limits himself to the human experience of the economic Trinity.<span class="citation" data-cites="letham"><a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a></span> For example, Rahner regularly falls prey to a trap Athanasius avoids: seeing the Father, especially in the Old Testament, primarily as <em>unoriginate</em>.<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a> Worse, he derives the person of the Father from the knowledge of the Father.<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a></span> He fails to apply the second half of his dictum. If the first half emphasizes that the Trinity’s actions reveal the divine being, the second half emphasizes that those actions flow out of the divine being. The acts of the Godhead in history reveal to God’s nature because they are not merely human experiences, but the God’s self-revelation of his own being.</p>
<p>Rahner largely has the right of this elsewhere. He notes that when Jesus considers himself as Son, he considers not only his human but also his divine relation to the Father as that of a Son.<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a></span> The incarnate Son reveals both the Father truly, and also that the Incarnate Logos is Son and not Father.<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a></span> The same must be said of the human relationship to God through the Spirit.<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a></span> The Spirit who communicates the love and grace and forgiveness the Father has effected by the work of the Incarnate Son is God. He communicates God as he is, as the <em>presence</em> of the Father’s self-revelation in the Son.<span class="citation" data-cites="torrance"><a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a></span> The Spirit is the Spirit of the Father and the Spirit of the Son; he is the true presence of both; he shares their mutual love and joy, and communicates both to believers.</p>
<p>John Frame objects to another misstep Rahner’s rule might prompt: “There is a difference between what God is necessarily and what he freely chooses to do in his plan for creation.”<span class="citation" data-cites="frame"><a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a></span> No necessity demanded creation, salvation, or indeed any of God’s acts in history.<span class="citation" data-cites="letham torrance barth:I.2"><a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a></span> They are <em>gifts</em>.<span class="citation" data-cites="barth:IV.1"><a href="#fn19" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref19" role="doc-noteref"><sup>19</sup></a></span> They are acts in which the Trinity is evidenced, and therefore are truly revelatory; but this is because God faithfully acts in accord with his own nature.<span class="citation" data-cites="letham barth:II.1"><a href="#fn20" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref20" role="doc-noteref"><sup>20</sup></a></span> On the other hand, the realities of the Trinity “either are in God himself… or they exist only in us… as effects of the divine creative activity. But then… there occurs no self-communication, God himself is not there, he is only represented by the creature…”<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn21" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref21" role="doc-noteref"><sup>21</sup></a></span> God is not obliged to act in a particular way in salvation history, but his actions truly reflect his being. It is because “God is, ‘before’ creation took place, already a being-in-relation”<span class="citation" data-cites="gunton"><a href="#fn22" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref22" role="doc-noteref"><sup>22</sup></a></span> that he is free of necessity in creation or salvation. The Trinity does not need anything, for Father, Son, and Spirit are eternally in relation to one another. God does not need to create, to redeem, even to reveal himself; “God’s self-unveiling remains an act of sovereign divine freedom”<span class="citation" data-cites="barth:I.1"><a href="#fn23" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref23" role="doc-noteref"><sup>23</sup></a></span>—but creation, redemption, and revelation are still acts of self-unveiling.</p>
<p>Thus, if Rahner’s rule is pressed to the point where God’s triunity is restricted to (or by) his acts in history, it is wrong, for precisely the reason Frame outlines—but it need not be pressed that way. “The Triune God is the Lord of history. Events in this world do not prescribe his being, or his tri-unity… all we know of the immanent Trinity is given in revelation, but revelation does not and cannot fully reveal God to human minds.”<span class="citation" data-cites="giles"><a href="#fn24" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref24" role="doc-noteref"><sup>24</sup></a></span> The Father of Jesus is the eternal Father of the Son, the incarnate Logos the eternal Son of the Father, and the sent Helper is the eternal Spirit of Father and Son. Human knowledge of the Trinity is not <em>exhaustive</em>, but it is <em>true</em>. “God reveals himself as he truly is… the economic roles played by the three persons must be appropriate to their natures.”<span class="citation" data-cites="frame"><a href="#fn25" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref25" role="doc-noteref"><sup>25</sup></a></span></p>
</section>
<section id="subordination" class="level3">
<h3>Subordination</h3>
<p>One other serious challenge remains. How (if at all) should Jesus Christ’s human nature be taken to relate to his divine nature in considerations of the correspondence or identity<a href="#fn26" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref26" role="doc-noteref"><sup>26</sup></a> between the economic and immanent Trinity? The Incarnation reveals the relationship of Father to Son and Son to Father (as well as the relation of the Spirit between the two); then is everything that is true of the way that the Son/Logos-as-man related to the Father true of the way that the Son/Logos eternally relates to the Father? Or are there instead elements of the Incarnation which reflect Jesus’ human as well as his divine nature in relation to the Godhead? It is clear that Jesus the man subordinated his will to God the Father’s will, but it is not at all clear that this entails the eternal submission of the divine Son’s will to the Father’s will. Whether in liberationist theology or attempts to ground male-femlae relations in the ontology of the Trinity, any “radicalizing” approach tends to collapse the proper direction of the identity. It does not follow from the eternal distinction between Father and Son that the Father’s love for the Son is somehow greater than than the reciprocal love of the Son for the Father, or that the creative and redemptive acts of the Trinity in history reflect such a distinction.<span class="citation" data-cites="moltmann"><a href="#fn27" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref27" role="doc-noteref"><sup>27</sup></a></span></p>
<p>Was it necessary in a logical or ontological sense that the Son and not the Father or the Spirit become incarnate? The answer is “yes”, but a carefully qualified yes. Creation, salvation, and eschatological restoration are each acts of the Triune God in which there is no confusion of that which is outside the Trinity and the inner Triune life itself.<span class="citation" data-cites="barth:III.1"><a href="#fn28" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref28" role="doc-noteref"><sup>28</sup></a></span> The Father wills, and through the Son’s action the Spirit effects. But in each of these acts, it is the Father <em>as Father</em>, the Son <em>as Son</em>, and the Spirit <em>as Spirit</em> at work.<span class="citation" data-cites="barth:III.1"><a href="#fn29" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref29" role="doc-noteref"><sup>29</sup></a></span> Not only in the specific instance of Incarnation, but in all of history<a href="#fn30" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref30" role="doc-noteref"><sup>30</sup></a> the economy of the Trinity reflects and proceeds from the essence of the Trinity.<span class="citation" data-cites="rahner"><a href="#fn31" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref31" role="doc-noteref"><sup>31</sup></a></span> God freely acts in history in accord with his own being.<span class="citation" data-cites="letham rahner frame"><a href="#fn32" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref32" role="doc-noteref"><sup>32</sup></a></span> At the same time, the Incarnation—however climactic—is not the whole of God’s self-revelation. Equally important must be both the rest of salvation history and the apostolic teaching on the nature of the Son, which clarifies: there is <em>mutual</em> submission within the Trinity.<span class="citation" data-cites="frame"><a href="#fn33" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref33" role="doc-noteref"><sup>33</sup></a></span> It was fitting that the Son be Incarnate, and the Spirit sent; but more than this in terms of subordination should not be read into the relations of the Trinity.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>If the persons of the Trinity are not Father, Son, and Spirit in and of themselves, then Christians know nothing of the inner life of the God we profess to worship. The notion of Scripture as divine self-revelation is a sham. The actions of God in history do not reveal God himself. In that case, Jesus’ claim to reveal the Father would be more than suspect; it would be false. Moreover, it must have been the Son, the Logos, who was the climactic revelation of God (Heb. 1:3), and the Spirit who is the indwelling presence of Father and Son in God’s people. “The divine Word is the divine speaking. The divine gift is the divine giving.”<span class="citation" data-cites="barth:I.1"><a href="#fn34" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref34" role="doc-noteref"><sup>34</sup></a></span></p>
<hr />
</section>
<section id="bibliography" class="level1 unnumbered">
<h1>Bibliography</h1>
<div id="refs" class="references" role="doc-bibliography">
<div id="ref-barth:III.1">
<p>Barth, Karl. <em>The Doctrine of Creation</em>. Edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Translated by J. W. Edwards, O. Bussey, and Harold Knight. Vol. III.1. Church Dogmatics. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1958.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-barth:II.1">
<p>———. <em>The Doctrine of God</em>. Edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Translated by T. H. L. Parker, W. B. Johnston, Harold Knight, and J. L. M. Haire. Vol. II.1. Church Dogmatics. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1957.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-barth:IV.1">
<p>———. <em>The Doctrine of Reconciliation</em>. Edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. Vol. IV.1. Church Dogmatics. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1956.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-barth:I.2">
<p>———. <em>The Doctrine of the Word of God</em>. Edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. Vol. I.2. Church Dogmatics. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1956.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-barth:I.1">
<p>———. <em>The Doctrine of the Word of God</em>. Edited by G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance. Translated by G. W. Bromiley. Second edition. Vol. I.1. Church Dogmatics. 1936. Reprint, Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1975.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-erickson">
<p>Erickson, Millard J. <em>God in Three Persons: A Contemporary Interpretation of the Trinity</em>. Second printing. 1995. Reprint, Baker Books, 1996.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-frame">
<p>Frame, John. <em>The Doctrine of God: A Theology of Lordship</em>. Vol. 2. A Theology of Lordship. Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2002.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-giles">
<p>Giles, Kevin. <em>Jesus and the Father: Modern Evangelicals Reinvent the Doctrine of God</em>. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-gunton">
<p>Gunton, Colin E. <em>The Promise of Trinitarian Theology</em>. Second edition. 1991. Reprint, T & T Clark, 1997.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-lacugna">
<p>LaCugna, Catherine Mowry. <em>God for Us: The Trinity and the Christian Life</em>. First paperback edition. 1991. Reprint, New York: Harper San Francisco, 1993.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-letham">
<p>Letham, Robert. <em>The Holy Trinity: In Scripture, History, Theology, and Worship</em>. Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2004.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-moltmann">
<p>Moltmann, Jürgen. <em>History and the Triune God: Contributions to Trinitarian Theology</em>. Translated by John Bowden. New York: Crossroad, 1992.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-rahner">
<p>Rahner, Karl. <em>The Trinity</em>. Translated by Joseph Donceel. March 2015 printing. 1967. Reprint, New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1997.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-sanders">
<p>Sanders, Fred. <em>The Image of the Immanent Trinity: Rahner’s Rule and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture</em>. Issues in Systematic Theology 12. New York: Peter Lang, 2005.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-torrance">
<p>Torrance, T. F. <em>The Trinitarian Faith</em>. Paperback edition, sixth printing. 1991. Reprint, New York: T & T Clark, 2006.</p>
</div>
</div>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Karl Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em>, trans. Joseph Donceel, March 2015 printing (1967; repr., New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1997), 22.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Which is not necesarily to say “as Rahner himself understood or articulated it” or “as it is interpreted by his most famous interpreters”.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>For a helpful summary of the history of the development of the terms, see <span class="citation" data-cites="giles">Kevin Giles, <em>Jesus and the Father: Modern Evangelicals Reinvent the Doctrine of God</em> (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2006)</span> 246–249.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>For a similar summary of this development, see <span class="citation" data-cites="giles">Giles</span> 250–265.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>Fred Sanders, <em>The Image of the Immanent Trinity: Rahner’s Rule and the Theological Interpretation of Scripture</em>, Issues in Systematic Theology 12 (New York: Peter Lang, 2005), 83–84.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>“Precision” here meaning “truth” but not “exhaustion.” See below.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. <span class="citation" data-cites="rahner">Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em></span> 106–107, where Rahner very nearly collapses the persons into the mere self-expressions of a pure monad.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>Robert Letham, <em>The Holy Trinity: In Scripture, History, Theology, and Worship</em> (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2004), 295–96.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>T. F. Torrance, <em>The Trinitarian Faith</em>, paperback edition, sixth printing (1991; repr., New York: T & T Clark, 2006), 53.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>Letham, <em>The Holy Trinity</em>, 297.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>E.g. <span class="citation" data-cites="rahner">Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em>, 59</span>; cf. Athanasius <em>Apologia Contra Arianos</em> 1.33–34.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rahner, 60.<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rahner, 63–65.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Rahner, 29 and <span class="citation" data-cites="torrance">@torrance</span>, 55.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em>, 67.<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p>Torrance, <em>The Trinitarian Faith</em>, 203.<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p>John Frame, <em>The Doctrine of God: A Theology of Lordship</em>, vol. 2, A Theology of Lordship (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 2002), 706–7.<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p>Letham, <em>The Holy Trinity</em>, 363–64; Torrance, <em>The Trinitarian Faith</em>; Karl Barth, <em>The Doctrine of the Word of God</em>, ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance, trans. G. W. Bromiley, vol. I.2, Church Dogmatics (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1956), 135.<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn19" role="doc-endnote"><p>Karl Barth, <em>The Doctrine of Reconciliation</em>, ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance, trans. G. W. Bromiley, vol. IV.1, Church Dogmatics (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1956), 52.<a href="#fnref19" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn20" role="doc-endnote"><p>Letham, <em>The Holy Trinity</em>, 296; Karl Barth, <em>The Doctrine of God</em>, ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance, trans. T. H. L. Parker et al., vol. II.1, Church Dogmatics (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1957), 57–58.<a href="#fnref20" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn21" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em>, 100.<a href="#fnref21" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn22" role="doc-endnote"><p>Colin E. Gunton, <em>The Promise of Trinitarian Theology</em>, Second edition (1991; repr., T & T Clark, 1997), 142.<a href="#fnref22" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn23" role="doc-endnote"><p>Karl Barth, <em>The Doctrine of the Word of God</em>, ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance, trans. G. W. Bromiley, Second edition, vol. I.1, Church Dogmatics (1936; repr., Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1975), 321.<a href="#fnref23" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn24" role="doc-endnote"><p>Giles, <em>Jesus and the Father</em>, 258.<a href="#fnref24" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn25" role="doc-endnote"><p>Frame, <em>The Doctrine of God</em>, 2:706.<a href="#fnref25" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn26" role="doc-endnote"><p>On “correspondence” and “identity” cf. <span class="citation" data-cites="giles">Giles, <em>Jesus and the Father</em></span>, ch. 7.<a href="#fnref26" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn27" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra Jürgen Moltmann, <em>History and the Triune God: Contributions to Trinitarian Theology</em>, trans. John Bowden (New York: Crossroad, 1992), 39.<a href="#fnref27" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn28" role="doc-endnote"><p>Karl Barth, <em>The Doctrine of Creation</em>, ed. G. W. Bromiley and T. F. Torrance, trans. J. W. Edwards, O. Bussey, and Harold Knight, vol. III.1, Church Dogmatics (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1958), 54–55.<a href="#fnref28" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn29" role="doc-endnote"><p>Barth, III.1:56.<a href="#fnref29" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn30" role="doc-endnote"><p>In some sense, given the fall and God’s action to restore and redeem humanity, all history <em>is</em> salvation-history.<a href="#fnref30" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn31" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em>, 76.<a href="#fnref31" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn32" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Letham, <em>The Holy Trinity</em>, 418; Rahner, <em>The Trinity</em>, 11–12; Frame, <em>The Doctrine of God</em>, 2:711–12.<a href="#fnref32" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn33" role="doc-endnote"><p>Frame, <em>The Doctrine of God</em>, 2:719.<a href="#fnref33" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn34" role="doc-endnote"><p>Barth, <em>The Doctrine of the Word of God</em>, I.1:321.<a href="#fnref34" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Realism and Anti-Realism in Science2016-03-15T12:32:00-04:002016-03-15T12:32:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-03-15:/2016/realism-and-anti-realism-in-science.htmlThe realism/anti-realism debate in science often hinges on the nature of and relationship between observables and unobservables. But is there actually such a distinction?
<p><i>Adjudicating the realism/anti-realism debate in science often involves discussion of ‘miracles,’ the ‘observable/unobservable distinction,’ and ‘underdetermination’. Pick one of these three areas and develop an argument for realism or anti-realism in terms of it. Don’t forget to assess the argument.</i></p>
<p>The realism/anti-realism debate in science often hinges on the nature of and relationship between observables and unobservables. Anti-realists argue that scientists can have no actual knowledge of unobservables, and therefore should treat theories about unobservables agnostically: however useful the models may be, they should not be considered to correspond to <em>truth</em> about reality. For example, anti-realists argue that hypotheses about the nature of fundamental particles such as quarks and electrons should not be taken as if quarks and electrons actually exist, but only as pragmatically useful, with no way even in principle of determining whether such things actually exist.</p>
<p>In fact, any attempt to consider the relationship between observables and unobservables ultimately points instead toward a (critical) realist account of science. Any attempt to distinguish sharply or clearly in principle between observables and unobservables fails, for two reasons: first, the claim that “unobservables” as such exist in a strict sense; and second, that, the relationship between “observable” and “unobservable” falls along a spectrum.</p>
<p>In the first case, anti-realists use “unobservable” to mean anything not <em>directly</em> observable by human senses. However, to declare such objects in principle unobservable is to beg the question, since the point under debate is precisely whether things detected indirectly—electron traces in a gas cloud, for example—are being observed or simply hypothesized. Anti-realists must first establish in an in-principle sense a sharp distinction between that which is indirectly observed and that which is directly observed. Realists, by contrast, note that indirect observation is rightly considered reliable in the realm of ordinary experience. It is reasonable to conclude that the wind is blowing from seeing its effects on trees even if sitting inside a closed room with no direct experience of the wind. Indirect observations still count as observations, and are clear signals of the real presence of a thing being observed. Whether it is observed directly or indirectly does not determine whether it is observed at all.</p>
<p>This also extends into the second case: a realist view rightly makes sense of the way things are more or less directly observable. On one end are those phenomena which can be detected through (normal, healthy) human senses such as hearing or vision. Moving down toward the not-directly-observable spectrum, scientists use various sorts of equipment to enhance their ability to observe: telescopes, when looking at things inaccessible to ordinary human sight because of distance; and microscopes, when examining things inaccessible to ordinary human sight because of size. In both cases, however, there is no clear line distinguishing the “observable” and the “unobservable”—only a spectrum of more- or less-directly-observable phenomena. Insects may be observed with the unaided human eye, bacteria with optical microscopes, individual molecules of materials with electron microscopes. In each case, the same principle is at work in the observation: light bouncing off an object and being received.</p>
<p>The anti-realist may object that this is not so: the fact that the distinction between observables and unobservables is blurry does not mean it does not exist. To borrow an example from Okasha: the line between “bald” and “hirsute” may be fuzzy (pun intended), but it is still possible to identify a bald man. Even granting the in-principle distinction between “observable” and “unobservable,” however, the objection fails to establish the strong claim made by anti-realists. It does not establish that the items in question are in fact unobservable (especially when confronted with the realist argument for indirect observation). Nor does it establish that scientists would be in principle incapable of correctly modeling unobservables. At most, it establishes that unobservables may exist.</p>
<p>Thus, it is reasonable to suppose that though current models of astronomical behavior, or of quantum mechanics, or gravity, or any other only-indirectly-observable phenomena may be incomplete or partial, they nonetheless represent something <em>actual</em>. The wind really is blowing. There really an electron leaving a trail in the gas chamber.</p>
The 'Covering Law' Model2016-03-15T12:31:00-04:002016-03-15T12:31:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-03-15:/2016/the-covering-law-model.htmlThe 'covering law' model of scientific explanation demands explanations be deductive arguments with sound premises referring to natural laws. It founders on the issue of causality.
<p><i>What is the ‘covering law’ model of scientific explanation and what are two reasons it seems to be defective? How do these defects point to a better model of scientific explanation?</i></p>
<p>The ‘covering law’ model of scientific explanation is the view that scientific explanations consist of three elements: <em>deductive</em> arguments, with <em>sound</em> premises, which make referent to (at least) one natural law. That is, for an explanation to count as “scientific,” it must first of all be in the from of an argument, “If A is true then B is the case; A is true, therefore B is the case.” Second, the premises of the argument must be valid. In other words, “If A and B are both true, then C is the case; A and B are true, therefore C is the case” is deductively valid, but if either of the premises A or B are false, the argument is not sound and it does not serve as a scientific explanation. Finally, the explanation must refer to one or more general laws in the course of its argument. That is, in the same formulation, “If A and B are both true, then C is the case; A and B are true, therefore C is the case,” the explanation may be both deductive and sound but <em>unscientific</em> if neither A nor B are natural laws of some sort.</p>
<p>One classic example of this sort of explanation is answering why a given plant died. Given that scientists know a great many things about the necessary conditions for plants to remain alive, it is possible to construct an explanation that fits the covering law model. Such an argument might proceed as follows:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>All living must metabolize sources of energy to stay alive [general law GL-A].</li>
<li>Plants are living things [observation O-A].</li>
<li>Plants metabolize energy via photosynthesis [general law GL-B].</li>
<li>This plant was kept in the dark [an observation O-B].</li>
<li>Therefore, this plant could not metabolize energy via photosynthesis [conclusion C-A following from GL-B and O-B].</li>
<li>Therefore, this plant died [conclusion following from C-A, O-A, and GL-A].</li>
</ol>
<p>It would equally be possible in the absence of observations (O-A and O-B) to formulate a <em>prediction</em>: in place of O-B and the conclusions which follow it, we could supply this form:</p>
<ol start="4" type="1">
<li>If a plant is kept in the dark, it will not be able to metabolize energy via photosynthesis [P].</li>
<li>Therefore, a plant which is kept in the dark will die. [C-C]</li>
</ol>
<p>Note that the two forms are symmetric, because of the rules of deductive logic. Any explanation formulated under the covering law model could also be couched as a prediction.</p>
<p>Although the covering law model is initially attractive, there are two serious problems with it. The first is this very point of symmetry. Explanations, it turns out, are rarely symmetric with predictions. To borrow an example from Okasha, given the rules of trigonometry, if one knows any two of the angle of the sun in the sky, the height of a flagpole, or the length of the shadow cast by the flagpole, one can <em>predict</em> the third element. For example, having only the length of the shadow and the height of the flagpole, one can calculate the angle of the sun in the sky. Clearly, however, the length of the shadow and the height of the flagpole have no causal relation to the position of the sun in the sky. They do not <em>explain</em> it, though they may be used to predict it. By contrast, the intent of the person fashioning the flagpole, and a combination of facts about the sun’s emanation of light as part of the process of fusion and the earth’s orbit around the sun do suffice to explain the length of the shadow.</p>
<p>This is not merely a hypothetical concern; it is precisely the distinction between ancient Babylonian and ancient Greek methods of astronomy, as J.P. Moreland comments. The Babylonian astronomers were able to <em>predict</em> the positions of stars in the sky, relying on careful observation and detailed tables. They did not offer any <em>explanation</em> of those positions, however; the Greeks did. Though the Ptolemaic model the Greeks embraced is now rejected, it was an explanatory, and therefore <em>scientific</em>, model. Predictions are not the same as explanations, precisely because explanations indicate the underlying causes that things are as they are.</p>
<p>Second, it is possible to offer explanations which satisfy the covering law model, but in which the premises are <em>irrelevant to the conclusion</em>. In Okasha’s example, a doctor explains why a man does not become pregnant in terms of the observation that people who regularly take oral contraceptives do not become pregnant, and the man is taking oral contraceptives. Leaving aside the question of why a man would be taking oral contraceptives, the actual explanation is quite different: the man does not become pregnant because men are biologically incapable of pregnancy. Though the argument is deductively valid, and its premises are at least potentially sound, the law actually fails as an explanation. In this case, its predictive power is actually deceptive, because the prediction is totally uncoupled from the cause.</p>
<p>Both of these failings share in common the same core issue: ignoring the role of causality. Scientific explanations—to be differentiated from scientific <em>observations</em> such as “water is two molecules of hydrogen and one of oxygen”—traffic in <em>causes</em> and not merely <em>predictions</em>. Any model of how scientific explanation actually works must therefore include the arrow of causality.</p>
The Problem of Induction2016-03-15T12:30:00-04:002016-03-15T12:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-03-15:/2016/the-problem-of-induction.htmlIs induction a trustworthy means of obtaining knowledge? The majority of scientific reasoning necessarly leans heavily on induction—but is this warranted or defensible?
<p><i>What is the problem of induction? Discuss two proposed solutions to this problem, and explain why (in your view) they are adequate solutions or defective ones.</i></p>
<p>The problem of induction is the question: <em>Is induction a trustworthy means of obtaining knowledge?</em> The majority of scientific reasoning necessarily leans heavily on induction—it is, after all, impossible to observe every star in the universe, or every duck on Earth, or the psychological patterns of all humans, for example. Thus, any scientific reasoning which purports to rise to the level of a universal explanation or law must rely on induction to arrive at its conclusion: “We have observed things to obey rules X, Y, and Z in all known instances. Given the regularity of the universe, it follows that things obey rules X, Y, and Z everywhere.” The question is whether the leap between the premises and the conclusion is warranted: is it reasonable to suppose that things scientists have <em>not</em> observed (whether because they are out of observational range, or because they are in the future) behave the same way as those they <em>have</em> observed?</p>
<p>Mark Lange helpfully summarizes the problem in the form of a simple argument: since all arguments are either deductive or inductive, the middle link in the argument for the reliability of induction must be either deductive or inductive. But it cannot be an inductive argument; that would simply be a circular argument: “If inductive reasoning holds, it is valid to use inductive reasoning, and inductive reasoning has always worked in the past, so we induce that it will continue to work in the future, ergo it is valid to use inductive reasoning.”</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the argument may also not be <em>deductive</em>. There is an infinite number of <em>logically</em> possible explanations for the apparent success of induction to date. For example, it is logically possible that all objects believed to be green—and which inductive reasoning would therefore suggest will be green tomorrow as well—are in fact the mysterious and previous unobserved color “grue”: a color which appears green until an unspecified date, after which it is blue. This is just as logically consistent with all observations as the idea that induction holds. Thus, no deductive argument can demonstrate the validity of induction, for there is no <em>deductive</em> manner of choosing between such possibilities.</p>
<p>One proposed solutions is a pragmatic argument. <em>If the universe behaves uniformly, then induction will work; if the universe does <strong>not</strong> behave uniformly, then no method will work. Therefore, scientists are justified in acting as though induction works.</em> Unfortunately, this argument at best establishes a matter of reasonable policy for scientists, without providing warrant for belief. That is, however reasonable and even necessary it may be for scientists to proceed as though induction holds and is valid, the argument provides no evidence that induction <em>does</em> in fact hold.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>Another solution is the argument from Christian theism: <em>given God’s creation covenant to maintain order (Genesis 9), the goodness and providence of God (derived from statements to that effect throughout Scripture), and the claim to efficacy of the Proverbs, it is theologically necessary that the universe continue to work as it has in the past.</em> In its favor, this suggestion has the form of an argument, and is not directly reliant on the evidence of past uniformity as a basis for future uniformity. However, this sort of reasoning from Scripture is itself inductive. It takes a specific interpretation of the texts under consideration, and a belief that things are at a certain point in cosmological/theological history (i.e. the eschaton has not yet arrived) and extrapolates to the notion that God will continue upholding the previous pattern of laws of nature. Moreover, even if the argument were to hold, it would not be a <em>scientific</em> but a <em>philosophical-theological</em> argument. (This is, perhaps, unsurprising given that though the problem of induction is especially applicable to the practice of science, it is a far more general problem.)</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Interestingly, however, if the validity of induction is taken as an <em>a priori</em> assumption, its historical efficacy may be taken as good evidence for the consistency of nature as a reasonable inference to the best explanation in the realism/anti-realism debate.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Strange and Messy Deliverance2016-03-08T20:00:00-05:002016-03-08T20:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-03-08:/2016/a-strange-and-messy-deliverance.htmlThree stories, three judges and deliverers, one saving God.
<p><i class="editorial">The only constraints on this sermon were that it be between 15 and 25 minutes long, and be on a text from the Old Testament. Video and its audio are from an old MacBook Pro pointed at the podium. Dedicated audio is from my iPhone in my shirt pocket.</i></p>
<section id="audio" class="level3">
<h3>Audio</h3>
<p><a href="http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.m4a/cdn.chriskrycho.com/sermons/2016-03-08.m4a">Download</a></p>
<audio title="A Strange and Messy Deliverance" controls="controls" preload="metadata" src="http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.m4a/cdn.chriskrycho.com/sermons/2016-03-08.m4a" type="audio/m4a">
Sorry; your browser doesn’t support m4a files. Try downloading the file directly and playing it in iTunes or another media app.
</audio>
</section>
<section id="video" class="level3">
<h3>Video</h3>
<div class="iframe-wrapper four-to-three">
<iframe title="A Strange and Messy Deliverance" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/158279181" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen>
</iframe>
<p>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/158279181">A Strange and Messy Deliverance (Judges 3:7–31)</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/chriskrycho">Chris Krycho</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.
</p>
</div>
</section>
<section id="prayer" class="level2">
<h2>Prayer</h2>
<p>Let us pray. <em>Gracious Father: thank you for revealing yourself to us, especially in your Son, our Lord; and for filling us with your Spirit so that we may know you truly. As we come to your word tonight, help us know you more deeply and worship you more faithfully. In Christ’s name, amen.</em></p>
</section>
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>Please open your Bibles to Judges, chapter 3. And as you turn there, I want you to think about these words:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Boring exegesis <em>must</em> be wrong when the texts are so obviously full of life.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Again:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Boring exegesis <em>must</em> be wrong when the texts are so obviously full of life.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That’s N. T. Wright, speaking of the Pauline epistles. But I think, equally applicable whenever we come to God’s word—especially in preaching and teaching—and most especially when the texts are like this one: lively, to say the least; strange, even.</p>
<p>I have two goals for this sermon. The first—always the first—is to show the grace of God clearly. As Bryan Chappell, the author <em>Christ-Centered Preaching</em>, puts it, we want to see how God did for his people then what they could not do for themselves; and through that to be be reminded of what he has done for us, that we could not do for ourselves. That’s the point of this sermon: God’s grace in Christ.</p>
<p>But secondarily—thinking about boring exegesis; thinking about hard texts like Judges 3—I hope to encourage you that these texts, these strange texts, these sometimes difficult texts—they’re for us, and for our good. They’re for our people, and our people’s good. We don’t need to ashamed of them, or embarrassed by them, or intimidated by them. Rather, we can come away seeing how these texts magnify the grace of God, how these texts remind us to look to Christ.</p>
</section>
<section id="body" class="level2">
<h2>Body</h2>
<section id="othniel-the-first-judge" class="level3">
<h3>Othniel: The first judge</h3>
<p>So let’s look and see. This is a long passage, with three judges—Othniel, Ehud, and Shamgar—so we’ll take each in turn. Read with me, starting in verse 7:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And the people of Israel did what was evil in the sight of the LORD. They forgot the LORD their God and served the Baals and the Asheroth. Therefore the anger of the LORD was kindled against Israel, and he sold them into the hand of Cushan-rishathaim king of Mesopotamia. And the people of Israel served Cushan-rishathaim eight years. But when the people of Israel cried out to the LORD, the LORD raised up a deliverer for the people of Israel, who saved them, Othniel the son of Kenaz, Caleb’s younger brother. The Spirit of the LORD was upon him, and he judged Israel. He went out to war, and the LORD gave Cushan-rishathaim king of Mesopotamia into his hand. And his hand prevailed over Cushan-rishathaim. So the land had rest forty years. Then Othniel the son of Kenaz died.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This first narrative is probably the easiest to understand. <strong>Othniel</strong> is <strong>the first judge</strong>. He is the prototype for all the other judges that follow. His story shows out the pattern for the whole book, the same one the author laid out back in chapter 2: sin, discipline, a cry for mercy, and God’s deliverance through a judge.</p>
<p>Verse 7: Israel sins. They <em>forgot</em> Yahweh their God. They served the Ba’als and the Asheroth instead of the God who had delivered them from Egypt.</p>
<p>That’s an interesting word choice: <em>forgot</em>—and it’s an important word, not only in this passage, but throughout the Bible. After all the reminders in the covenant: Set up these stones so you remember! Teach your children, so they remember. Bind it on your hands and your forehead, so you remember! And they forgot.</p>
<p>Othniel is Caleb’s brother, note. They forgot in the <em>first generation</em> they were in the land.</p>
<p>When we forget, we get things wrong. You’ve seen it happen: a spouse forgets an anniversary, and spends some time “in the dog house.” Or parents who miss a school event for their children, and leave them feeling like they don’t matter. Forgetting a friend’s birthday: maybe you’re not as close as you thought.</p>
<p>And sometimes… we all forget who God is, what he has done for us, and what our relationship to him is as the covenant people of God. We find ourselves fixated on the approval of the people in the pews, on the applause of subscribers to our popular podcast, on the affirmation of our professional peers. We become idolaters—just like Israel.</p>
<p>But he showed them mercy. How? “He sold them into the hand of Cushan-rishathaim, king of Mesopotamia”—not mercy the way we might be inclined to think of it, but real, deep mercy.</p>
<p>Because: see what happens? It had the intended effect. They remembered Yahweh and called out to him. And he delivered them—both from the pagan King, and from their idolatry, at least for a time! The Spirit came on Othniel, and he led Israel to war, and God delivered them from Cushan-rishathaim, and they had peace for forty years.</p>
<p>God delivered his people, and Othniel, this <em>first judge</em>, was a good judge. He wasn’t a prophet like Moses; he didn’t give them lasting rest, any more than Joshua had (40 years is good, but it’s not <em>forever</em>); and he didn’t circumcise their hearts. Not <em>the</em> judge then. A good judge, but not <em>the</em> judge.</p>
</section>
<section id="ehud-the-assassin" class="level3">
<h3>Ehud: The assassin</h3>
<p>Sadly, he was also the <em>best</em> of the Judges. Things only go downhill from here. Who’s next? <strong>Ehud: the assassin.</strong> Let’s read again, picking up in verse 12:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And the people of Israel again did what was evil in the sight of the LORD, and the LORD strengthened Eglon the king of Moab against Israel, because they had done what was evil in the sight of the LORD. He gathered to himself the Ammonites and the Amalekites, and went and defeated Israel. And they took possession of the city of palms. And the people of Israel served Eglon the king of Moab eighteen years.</p>
<p>Then the people of Israel cried out to the LORD, and the LORD raised up for them a deliverer, Ehud, the son of Gera, the Benjaminite, a left-handed man. The people of Israel sent tribute by him to Eglon the king of Moab. And Ehud made for himself a sword with two edges, a cubit in length, and he bound it on his right thigh under his clothes. And he presented the tribute to Eglon king of Moab. Now Eglon was a very fat man. And when Ehud had finished presenting the tribute, he sent away the people who carried the tribute. But he himself turned back at the idols near Gilgal and said, “I have a secret message for you, O king.” And he commanded, “Silence.” And all his attendants went out from his presence. And Ehud came to him as he was sitting alone in his cool roof chamber. And Ehud said, “I have a message from God for you.” And he arose from his seat. And Ehud reached with his left hand, took the sword from his right thigh, and thrust it into his belly. And the hilt also went in after the blade, and the fat closed over the blade, for he did not pull the sword out of his belly; and the dung came out. Then Ehud went out into the porch and closed the doors of the roof chamber behind him and locked them. When he had gone, the servants came, and when they saw that the doors of the roof chamber were locked, they thought, “Surely he is relieving himself in the closet of the cool chamber.” And they waited till they were embarrassed. But when he still did not open the doors of the roof chamber, they took the key and opened them, and there lay their lord dead on the floor.</p>
<p>Ehud escaped while they delayed, and he passed beyond the idols and escaped to Seirah. When he arrived, he sounded the trumpet in the hill country of Ephraim. Then the people of Israel went down with him from the hill country, and he was their leader. And he said to them, “Follow after me, for the LORD has given your enemies the Moabites into your hand.” So they went down after him and seized the fords of the Jordan against the Moabites and did not allow anyone to pass over. And they killed at that time about 10,000 of the Moabites, all strong, able-bodied men; not a man escaped. So Moab was subdued that day under the hand of Israel. And the land had rest for eighty years.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>We see the same pattern again here… sort of. We see Israel sin, and God discipline them. And we see Israel cry out to their covenant God, and we see him deliver them.</p>
<p>But of course, Ehud’s story is more complicated than Othniel’s was. Some of the details here might initially perplex us. Why do we hear about how fat the king is? Why do we hear about the dung coming out after he gets stabbed? Why almost any of the extraneous-seeming details in this story?</p>
<p>Well, this is satire. (Which doesn’t make it untrue, of course.) The author plays up the ridiculous elements in this bit of history to make a point.</p>
<p>What do we see here?</p>
<p>A conquering king! …</p>
<ul>
<li>who’s actually morbidly obese, not exactly a strapping warrior</li>
<li>who, so cunning he could forge an alliance with the Ammonites and Amalekites, gets fooled by a simple trick (“Oh king, I have secret message for you”)—he’s either hopelessly naive or profoundly overconfident; neither is good</li>
<li>a man who so comically out of line with what a king should be that his servants don’t even notice when there’s a wretched stench and he takes a <em>looong</em> time relieving himself</li>
</ul>
<p>Great king.</p>
<p>And his servants? They aren’t exactly top-drawer. They don’t even notice Ehud escaping after he assassinated their king…</p>
<p>If we read the story right, it’s humorous. The author is poking fun at the Moabites! “Those Moabites!”</p>
<p>Right?</p>
<p>But, wait… those Moabites conquered Israel. This ridiculous Moabite king?… Ehud was there to bring him tribute.</p>
<p><em>Israel</em> is the real joke. The idolaters who got conquered by <em>this</em> king. Ouch.</p>
<p>This is what good satire does. It sneaks in, makes you laugh, and then hits you where it counts.</p>
<p>And what about Ehud himself? What about this savior figure? He’s not good either. He’s a vicious assassin, a traitor who stabbed the man he was legally supposed to be serving.</p>
<p>This story is messy. Not just because of the dung coming out. But because while yes, God did deliver his people, and that is good—but Ehud isn’t the kind of deliverer we want, not the kind of deliverer we need.</p>
<p>Not the brutal killer, but the one who was brutally killed.</p>
<p>Not the one who defeated a foreign king by stabbing him in the gut, but the one who overcame both the pagan oppressor and the idolatry that led to that oppression by <em>being</em> stabbed, by taking the weapon to <em>his</em> gut.</p>
<p>The book of Judges shows us over and over again what we’re like left to our own purposes. How even our human saviors are woefully insufficient. The covenant hope, proclaimed from the start of Genesis and made so clear in Deuteronomy… was still waiting to be fulfilled.</p>
</section>
<section id="shamgar-unifying-theme" class="level3">
<h3>Shamgar & Unifying Theme</h3>
<p>And then we come to the end of this chapter—to <strong>Shamgar: the man with an ox-goad</strong> and his one verse: verse 31.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>After him was Shamgar the son of Anath, who killed 600 of the Philistines with an oxgoad, and he also saved Israel.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So if you’re like me, you’re wondering at least two things about this passage. One is: what in the world is an oxgoad? That’s the easy one: It’s a cattle prod. A long wooden pole with a point on the end. Makes for a decent improvised spear.</p>
<p>But the other question, the bigger question, is <em>why does Ehud get paragraphs, with lurid details for a satire… and Shamgar gets just one sentence?</em></p>
<p>We have a man who, based on his name, doesn’t even seem to be an Israelity, who shows up, kills 600 Philistines with an ox-goad, and then he’s gone. He gets one mention in Deborah’s song in chapter 5, but basically, this is it.</p>
<p>So why mention him at all if he’s so seemingly unimportant? Why these proportions?</p>
<p>After all, this is the inspired word of God. And the author had a reason for giving us these stories, even <em>these proportions.</em> He’s making a point.</p>
<p>We read this and I, for one, think, “Oh, that sounds interesting; how did he do that with a cattle pr—” “NO. That’s not the question.” He slams the door on that question.</p>
<p>Shamgar’s skill with an ox-goad is not the point, any more than Ehud’s skill as an assassin was the point, any more even than Othniel’s skill as a military leadership was the point. No more, I put it to you, than any of <em>us</em> are the point.</p>
<p>“And he also saved Israel.” Those words tell us what we need to know. Who saved Israel? Shamgar… Ehud… Othniel… but really, in every case, Yahweh. The covenant-keeping God, who saved Israel not only from 600 Philistines, not only from a Moabite king worthy of derision, not only from a mighty king of Mesopotamia—but from her idolatry.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="summary-and-exhortation" class="level2">
<h2>Summary and Exhortation</h2>
<p>Someday—someday, after many judges, many kings, many priests, many prophets—there would come a deliverer—a judge, a prophet, a priest, a king—</p>
<ul>
<li>who would give the land rest, who would give the people of God true rest, for more than just a generation; forever…</li>
<li>who would be a wise king</li>
<li>who would be gentle and gracious ruler</li>
<li>who would give God’s people circumcised hearts</li>
<li>who would fulfill the covenant hopes and take on himself the covenant curses of Deuteronony, of Exodus, of Genesis</li>
</ul>
<p>We have that deliverer. We have Christ. “And he also saved Israel.” So when we read, when we teach, when we preach, let us look, every time, and see what God did for his people that they could not do for themselves. Let us, in every passage, in every picture of grace, find a reminder of what God has done for us in Christ, that we could not do for ourselves.</p>
<p>We have a deliverer. Don’t forget. Don’t let your people forget. We have a deliverer.</p>
<p><em>Gracious Father: thank you for delivering us. Help us be faithful with your word. Help us remember, and help us remind your people, of how you have delivered us. In the name of Jesus, our savior, amen.</em></p>
</section>
No One is ‘Not Worthy’2016-03-06T17:40:00-05:002016-03-06T17:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-03-06:/2016/no-one-is-not-worthy.html<blockquote>
<p>No one is ‘not worthy’ of our service in the body of Christ.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>No one is ‘not worthy’ of our service in the body of Christ.</p>
</blockquote>
A Humble, Selfless, Unity2016-02-09T18:40:00-05:002016-02-09T18:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2016-02-09:/2016/a-humble-selfless-unity.htmlWe are called to a humble, selfless unity which reflects the humble, selfless unity of our Triune God.<p><i class="editorial">The only constraints on this sermon were that it be between 15 and 25 minutes long, and be on a text from an epistle. Video is from an old MacBook Pro pointed at the podium.</i></p>
<section id="audio" class="level3">
<h3>Audio</h3>
<p><a href="http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.m4a/cdn.chriskrycho.com/sermons/2016-02-09.m4a">Download</a></p>
<audio title="A Humble, Selfless, Unity" controls="controls" preload="metadata" src="http://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.m4a/cdn.chriskrycho.com/sermons/2016-02-09.m4a" type="audio/m4a">
Sorry; your browser doesn’t support m4a files. Try downloading the file directly and playing it in iTunes or another media app.
</audio>
</section>
<section id="video" class="level3">
<h3>Video</h3>
<div class="iframe-wrapper four-to-three">
<iframe title="A Humble, Selfless, Unity" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/154810219" frameborder="0" webkitallowfullscreen mozallowfullscreen allowfullscreen>
</iframe>
<p>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/154810219">A Humble, Selfless Unity (Philippians 2:1–11)</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/chriskrycho">Chris Krycho</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.
</p>
</div>
<hr />
<p>Good evening. Let’s pray before we begin.</p>
<p><i>Gracious God, may your word be clear in our hearts. May your Spirit open our minds to see you more clearly and love as you have loved us. May we see you, and may I not obscure you. Thank you for revealing yourself to us.</i></p>
</section>
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>Our text for this evening is Philippians 2:1–11. It might be a familiar passage to many of you, but I think it might also be a surprising passage to you. It was for me.</p>
<p>I don’t know if you’ve ever been walking along someplace familiar and had something prompt you to stop and notice something about your surroundings that you had never seen before. Maybe you went back to the house you grew up in, and the house is the same, but you aren’t—and you notice the little cracks in the ceiling. <em>Were those always there?</em> You look at the wall in your older sister’s bedroom. <em>Was it always that color? I thought it was lighter than that.</em> You go down the stairs into the basement, and “Yup, they always creaked like that,” your mother tells you. You start to ask about the way the basement smells and she just shakes her head at you.</p>
<p>It had been a while since I read this passage, and it kind of felt like thinking you had grown up in a <em>really nice house</em> and going back and discovering that it was <em>mansion</em>. But whether you’ve read this passage a hundred times, or this your first time opening a Bible, God is inviting us into a beautiful mansion tonight.</p>
</section>
<section id="believers-called-to-humble-selfless-unity-215" class="level2">
<h2>1. Believers called to humble, selfless, unity (2:1–5)</h2>
<p>As we come to Philippians 2, Paul has just spent the first chunk of a letter to these Christians in Philippi—good friends to him, people who have supported his ministry—about his circumstances… which aren’t great, frankly. He wrote this letter from prison. But, one way or another, he has seen a great many people hear the good news about Jesus as a result of his in prison. But he also knows that the Philippians are having a hard time, and he knows that they need encouragement in their faith. He knew that when things get hard—whether that’s persecution, physical or mental illness, death among your friends or family, losing jobs—when life gets hard, we can turn on each other. And Paul called the Philippians, in the midst of their trials—God is calling us, tonight, in the midst of our trials—to something different: to a <strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong>.</p>
<p>Let’s read:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><sup>1</sup>So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy, <sup>2</sup>complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.</p>
</blockquote>
<section id="four-reasons" class="level3">
<h3>Four reasons</h3>
<p>Paul opens with four <em>reasons</em> for people to live with this humble, selfless unity. “If there is any…”</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>encouragement in Christ</li>
<li>comfort from love</li>
<li>participation in [which could also read fellowship in or with] the Spirit</li>
<li>affection and sympathy</li>
</ol>
<p>“If there is any,” he says. Is there any? Well, yes. There <em>is</em> encouragement in Christ. We <em>do</em> find comfort from being loved, by God and by each other. As believers, we do have fellowship with the Spirit, and through him with Christ and the Father, and of course with each other too. We do have God-given affection and sympathy for each other, and even for non-believers.</p>
<p>In other words, Paul is using that “if” to quietly point the Philippian believers to a <em>reality</em>. When he asks them to complete his joy if these things are true, he’s saying, “Look, these four things <em>are</em> true.” You <em>do</em> encouragement; comfort; fellowship; affection and sympathy. And just as they did, so do we.</p>
<p>So given those four good reasons, Paul asks them to complete his joy. As he has told them already, earlier in the epistle, he already has great joy—in seeing the gospel go forth. He even rejoices when people preach the gospel in an attempt to make him jealous. But his joy isn’t complete without something else. If these four reasons are the foundation for that completion, the finished building is <strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong>. But what we might ask: what is the structure of that finished building?</p>
</section>
<section id="three-ways" class="level3">
<h3>Three ways</h3>
<p>There are three. Four foundation stones, and three pillars on that base. Paul told his friends they would complete his joy—they would fill it up—by:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>being of the same mind</li>
<li>having the same love</li>
<li>being in full accord and of one mind</li>
</ol>
<p>(If you’re worried about my counting: affection and sympathy go together, and so do “being in full accord and of one mind.” If you have true affection for someone, you will feel sympathy for her when she is struggling. If you’re in full accord with someone, it’s like you and he share a mind. So: four foundation stones, and these three pillars.)</p>
<p>And what we see in these three pillars is that these three ways are really <em>one</em> way. They’re one structure. And that <em>one way</em>, is to be <em>one</em>. That one way is <em>unity</em>. Joy, for the apostle, and I think it is fair to say God’s joy in our fellowship, is complete when we are truly unified. Not identical, but unified.</p>
<p>But how? <em>How</em> do we have the same mind? <em>How</em> do we have the same love? <em>How</em> can we be in full accord and of one mind? That seems rather abstract. If I sat down my three-and-a-half year old and my 20-month old and said, “Okay, Ellie and Kate, you need to have unity between you two,” they would just stare at me. Ellie, the older one, might say, “Yes, daddy!” just to be good, but they wouldn’t know what to do with it. Kate, the younger one, would probably yell “No!” because she’s a toddler and we’re working on that right now. And wherever you are: whether you’re saying, “Okay…” but you don’t really get it, or you’re saying “No, no way! Have you met these people?” Paul draws us forward. He gives us some help, makes it a little more concrete.</p>
</section>
<section id="two-contrasts" class="level3">
<h3>Two contrasts</h3>
<p>Paul gives us two pairs of contrasts to help us see a little more clearly what this kind of unity looks like. Capstones to match the foundation, if you will.</p>
<blockquote>
<p><sup>3</sup>Do nothing [, he says in v. 3,] from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That’s the first capstone, the first contrast. Not selfish ambition, not conceit, but humility, and counting others more important than yourself. So we see first that this unity is <em>humble</em> unity. It comes becomes I’m valuing you above me. I’m not trying to exalt myself. I’m thinking of how I can make you do well instead.</p>
<p>Verse 4 shows us the second contrast, the second capstone:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><sup>4</sup>Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This unity, then, is also <em>selfless</em>. When we’re healthy, we don’t just aim to get our own. “Looking out for number one!” No, instead, we help others accomplish their hopes. We give of our time; our money; our sleep; our space – to help others.</p>
<p>So this is the church. This is the kind of building we’re supposed to be. As Paul puts it in Ephesians, we’re being built together into a temple for God—a temple of people known for their <strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong>—their love.</p>
<p>We have these four foundations: encouragement in Christ, comfort from love, fellowship with the Spirit, and affection and sympathy. We have three pillars of unity: being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. We have two capstones: calls to humility and selflessness.</p>
<p>But you might be asking now, “How? I want that unity; I even want to be selfless and humble, even if that sounds kind of hard. But I don’t know <em>how</em>.” And to that, Paul says, “Don’t worry; I’ll give you an example. In fact, here is <em>the</em> example.” And he shows us Christ—verse 5: “Have this mind among yourselves, which was also in Christ Jesus…”</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="the-foundation-of-humble-selfless-unity-2611" class="level2">
<h2>2. The foundation of humble, selfless, unity (2:6–11)</h2>
<p>The mind of Christ! That’s a heady thing to think about. But for Paul, it’s deeply practical, in fact. He gives us a very succinct summary of Jesus’ ministry. And what was Jesus like? He was humble. He was selfless. (And if you’re thinking, “But what about unity?” you’re right. Hold on to that thought. We’ll come back to it.) Let’s start by looking at Christ’s example.</p>
<section id="christ-humbled-himself" class="level3">
<h3>Christ humbled himself</h3>
<blockquote>
<p><sup>6</sup>who [Christ Jesus], though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped [—something to be held onto—], <sup>7</sup>but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. <sup>8</sup>And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>What we see here is one of the great mysteries our faith. God became man. We could take a dozen sermons on this point alone. But Paul has something very specific for us to see from the Incarnation here. Whatever prerogatives we might have—whatever money, whatever fame, whatever position or status—the Son had more. And Jesus Christ lived as a servant. He didn’t hold onto what was his (and it really was his, by right!). He came as one of us. When you read here, “in the likeness of man,” don’t think “he was kind of like us.” Hebrews tells us that he was <em>exactly</em> was we are—yet without sin.</p>
<p>And that degradation goes down and down and down. He became a baby, who needed to be changed. He dealt, like my older daughter does, with younger siblings who tormented him. He was teased by other children. He went through puberty and had his voice go all scratchy. He worked for many years in obscurity. When he started his ministry, he was rejected as often as accepted, loved for his miracles and not for the God he revealed, mocked even by his own family, and wandered around without a home. Remember, the God of all the universe. And ultimately, he died. Died a sinner’s shameful death. He took our humiliation. And through all of it, he did not complain, he just served. So Christ is our model.</p>
<p>A convicting model, at least for me. Jesus, the real flesh-and-blood Jesus who was tempted just like us, is the perfect man. He is what it <em>means</em> to be human rightly. And he served. He’s the rightful king! And he served. Do I serve like that? Do you? Or do we demand our rights?</p>
</section>
<section id="the-father-exalted-christ" class="level3">
<h3>The Father exalted Christ</h3>
<p>Now, as we come into these final verses, we see what at first might seem like a bit of a strange turn. Paul is trying to teach us about this kind of <strong>humble, selflessness,</strong>—and yes, <strong>unity</strong>. Hmm. And we were tracking along, as we saw the concrete example of Jesus living and dying selflessly. Feeling conviction, even; I certainly was and am. But then we get to this:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><sup>9</sup>Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, <sup>10</sup>so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, <sup>11</sup>and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is, at first blush, a bit of a challenge. “Okay. I mean, it’s good that Jesus is exalted. But how does it fit? Am <em>I</em> going to be exalted? Am I supposed to serve because Jesus was exalted? What’s going on here?”</p>
<p>There are two parts to this. One of them is, yes, that Jesus is Lord. We are citizens of his kingdom, and if his people lived like that, his people should <em>certainly</em> live like that. So that is one part of it.</p>
<p>But there is something else going on here, too.</p>
<p>And this—oh, this! What do we see here? We see the Father exalting the son. He <em>highly</em> exalted him. He gave him the name that is above every other name. The Father wants every one to say, “Jesus is Lord!” The Father wants everyone to bow down and worship Jesus. And Jesus, the Son—he’s doing all of this, he’s becoming a servant, taking on human nature, dying, on a cross to what end? To the glory of the Father!</p>
<p>We have a little glimpse here into something… <em>awesome</em>. We see the Father, saying to the Son, “Let me exalt you!” And Jesus says to the Father, “All the glory is yours!” And the Father to the Son, and the Son to the Father, back and forth, and back and forth, forever. This is the life of the trinity. This is the eternal life of the triune God: <strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong>! Love!</p>
<p>And this is what we’re meant to be. This is what the church is for. This is what <em>humanity</em> is for: men and women made in the image of God—<strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong>.</p>
<hr />
<p>The life of the Trinity, in the life of the church. This is the building we’re meant to be. This is the temple. This is the mansion.</p>
<hr />
<p>Paul has taken our question: “How do I live like that?” and he’s answered it by showing us how the life of the triune God took on flesh, and lived among us. Was our servant. Died for us. He says: “How Christ lived is how we are meant to live.” And he reminds us, back there in v. 1: “If there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit—any fellowship with the Spirit, remember; any affection and sympathy, complete my joy…” We have fellowship with the Spirit. That’s where our unity comes from: not common interests, not shared experiences, not being the same age, or sex, or ethnicity, or social standing, or economic status.</p>
<p>We’re meant to be a little picture, every day, of the Trinity. And the way we do that, is by living like Christ did. We choose, every day, to serve the people around us, instead of ourselves. We choose, every day, not to put ourselves first, but to put others first. We choose, every day, not to make ourselves look great, but to love others.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="exhortation" class="level2">
<h2>Exhortation</h2>
<p>Brothers and sisters, here is my challenge to you today. Fill up your joy, and fill up my joy, and fill out our Triune God’s joy in you!—by loving one another as he has loved us. This kind of <strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong> is not a burden. It is what we are for. And yes, in this fallen world, it is hard sometimes. But we have the Spirit. We participate in God’s own love. Mystery— awesome mystery! Let us love one another. Let us count one another more important than ourselves. Let us look not only to our own interests, but to each other’s. Let us live in the <strong>humble, selfless, unity</strong> of our King’s kingdom.</p>
<p>And friend, if you are <em>not</em> a believer, and you look at this picture, I hope you’re thinking, “Yes. That’s what the world ought to look like.” Because it is. And it’s beautiful. We’re not meant not for self-absorption. We’re meant to live like Christ did. So I challenge you: call Christ lord. Let his death be yours, and his resurrection, too—come walk after him with us.</p>
<p>Let us pray to our loving, selfless, humble God of unity.</p>
<hr />
<p><i>God we praise you, who are love and light forever. Thank you for your love—for sharing it with us, humbly and selflessly; for drawing us into your love and restoring us to what you designed us for. Thank you for building us into a temple for your Spirit. Help us walk in this same humble, selfless unity. </i></p>
</section>
Power and Mercy2015-12-09T12:30:00-05:002015-12-09T12:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-12-09:/2015/power-and-mercy.htmlMark 5:1–20 shows us that Jesus is the kind of king we need: one who is both powerful and merciful.<p><i class="editorial">The Bible exposition class for which I prepared this sermon involves <em>writing</em> but not <em>delivering</em> a sermon. If, at some point in the future, I actually deliver this sermon (e.g. in my sermon delivery course next semester), I will update this post with a link to the audio and/or video.</i></p>
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>Recent estimates suggest that the United States of America currently spends about three times as much money on our military as the next biggest military spender out there, China. In fact, if you add up the military spending of China, Russia, Saudi Arabia, France, Great Britain, India, and Germany, we still spend more. And remember, China’s and India’s populations are both over four times larger than ours. What’s more, corruption and graft notwithstanding, our military-industrial complex is incredibly advanced. It’s fair to say that America has the most powerful, best equipped, most effective military apparatus in the whole world.</p>
<p>And yet. And yet, as a country, we are very afraid. All of that power can’t protect us from everything. And we are very feared. For all of America’s lofty ideals, we have made a mess of things pretty often. We’ve gotten it wrong. Having power, it turns out, isn’t enough. Having enough power matters, but so does having the right kind of power, and so does how you use that power.</p>
<p>As we look at Mark 5:1–20, we’re going to see that play out. It’s not just having power that matters. It matters who has the power, and how they use it. Do they torment? Or do they show mercy?</p>
<p>I’ll give you a hint: we want power coupled with mercy. You can see, if you look at verse 19, how this whole passage hinges on that. When all is said and done, the man in the middle of this story gets to go tell all his friends and neighbors how much the Lord had done for him—how powerful God is—and how the Lord had shown him mercy.</p>
</section>
<section id="exposition" class="level2">
<h2>Exposition</h2>
<section id="context" class="level3">
<h3>Context</h3>
<p>So let’s see how Mark gets us there. As we come to our text, we read: “They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes.”</p>
<p>“The other side of the sea from what?” you might be asking. Well, from Galilee, where Jesus had been teaching. Back at the beginning of chapter 4, Mark tells us about a series of parables that Jesus taught about his new kingdom. And those parables particularly emphasized people’s response as his kingdom comes. Some reject it entirely; some look excited about it at first, but ultimately aren’t a part of it; and some, a few, <em>really are</em> citizens of the new kingdom.</p>
<p>Then, back in 4:35, Mark switched to a series of narratives—four stories. This is Mark’s basic strategy: tell us what Jesus said, and then show us what he did. Why? Well, because the parables weren’t just cryptic things Jesus said to confuse people; he was telling his disciples, the ones who had ears to hear, how things really were. Each thing Jesus <em>did</em> showed that what he <em>said</em> was true.</p>
<p>His kingdom wasn’t coming the way people thought, or even to the people who thought it was for them. And he wasn’t the kind of king they had in mind, either. He had authority not just over nations and troops, but (as Mark shows us in these four stories), over the sea and the sky, over demons—that’s today’s passage—over incurable illness, even over death. And in each of these events, we see that Jesus wasn’t just a <em>powerful</em> king. He was also a <em>merciful</em> king.</p>
<p>Now, within these four narratives, Mark breaks things down into two pairs of miracle stories which hang together: the storm and the demonized man, and the two healings back on the other side of the sea. Today, we find ourselves in the second half of that first pair. With the storm, the disciples could not save themselves, so Jesus rebuked the storm, and there was a great calm, and the disciples were afraid. We are going to see those same ideas here: someone who cannot save himself, Jesus rebuking something, a great calm as a result, and people being afraid. We will see Jesus’ power and mercy. And we will see a different response than fear—a better one.</p>
</section>
<section id="beat-1-a-wild-man-516" class="level3">
<h3>Beat 1: A wild man – 5:1–6</h3>
<p>So let’s follow Mark on this journey. Verse 2 tells us that “when Jesus had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the tombs a man with an unclean spirit”. Verse 6 reiterates the point—“And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down before him”—but first Mark wants us to know something about who this man was. Verses 3 through 5 tell us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He lived among the tombs. And no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain, for he had often been bound with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and cutting himself with stones.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In other words, this was not a man in need of a little help, an appointment with a counselor. No, here we have a man enslaved. Nothing anyone could do would help him.</p>
<p>What we have here is Mark establishing both the characters involved, and the “power curve” for the rest of the scene. If you’re reading a superhero comic or watching a superhero movie, you have a sense of how strong everyone is. And of course, this leads to all sorts of conundrums. Who would win in a fight? Next year’s <em>Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice</em> and <em>Captain America: Civil War</em> both hinge on this. Who is stronger? Who will win? And of course, if you let the wrong characters in, the game just becomes pointless. I saw an interview with the writers behind <em>Captain America</em>, where they explained why the Hulk wouldn’t be in the movie. You add in the Hulk, and it’s game over for the other team. There’s no tension in the conflict anymore. The Hulk just wins.</p>
<p>And that’s basically the picture Mark shows us in this passage. It’s pretty clear: the demons were stronger. Nothing anyone could do was effective. They couldn’t even keep this man imprisoned; verse 4 has him acting like, well, like the Hulk. They tried chaining him up hand and foot; he just ripped the chains on his wrists off and smashed the fetters on his feet. “No one,” Mark says, “had the strength to subdue him.” Healing him was out of the question. And the man himself was clearly totally under the demons’ control. The “super-villains” had the upper hand.</p>
<p>Now, the Hulk can be kind of fun to watch, but that’s not what we have here. They made a mockery of this man. We shouldn’t take that lightly. They made him run around screaming, naked, cutting himself, in the midst of the tombs. There is a reason Mark describes him as having an <em>unclean</em> spirit. The demons were doing everything in their power—short of killing this man—to defile what God had called “very good” and what he had promised to redeem: his humanity.</p>
<p>So there’s the power curve when Jesus arrives on the scene; there are the characters. As soon as Jesus gets off the boat, this man comes out to meet him. And then, perhaps surprisingly, given that power curve—but then again, maybe not <em>so</em> surprising given what Jesus has already done in this gospel—verse 6 tells us that the man falls down at his knees before Jesus. He goes prostrate. Flat on his face. The way you would kneel before someone absolutely more powerful than you. Jesus’ arrival is clearly a change from the status quo.</p>
</section>
<section id="beat-2-a-merciful-act-5713" class="level3">
<h3>Beat 2: A merciful act – 5:7–13</h3>
<section id="setup" class="level4">
<h4>Setup</h4>
<p>So Mark has set the scene for us: here is a man who has been tormented for who knows how long, and as soon Jesus steps off the boat, he man comes running up and throws himself down at Jesus’ feet. That’s quite the welcoming party. Put yourself in the disciples’ shoes for a moment. You’ve just seen Jesus go from sleeping in the back of a boat—in the middle of the kind of storm that scared the Galilean fishermen who are with you—to standing up and telling a storm to be quiet and it does. You’re afraid. And then you get to the other side, still more than a little in shock from that, and a naked man with cuts all over his body comes up to Jesus and throws himself at his feet and starts arguing with him, shouting at him. You might be afraid all over again. And for good reason. Notice that throughout the whole passage, the disciples are just onlookers. This is out of their league, too; so they just watch.</p>
</section>
<section id="beat-2a-jesus-power-5710" class="level4">
<h4>Beat 2a: Jesus’ power – 5:7–10</h4>
<p>Dealing with the man and his impure spirit is not, however, out of Jesus’ league. Verses 7–10 make it very clear that Jesus is absolutely and unquestionably the most powerful person in this encounter.</p>
<p>Notice, too, that the demonized man is arguing with Jesus because Jesus is arguing with him. Verses 7 and 8 tell us:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He shouted at the top of his voice, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? In God’s name don’t torture me!” For Jesus had said to him, “Come out of this man, you impure spirit!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Jesus picked this fight, and it’s not going to go down well for the demons.</p>
<p>Now we know from ancient records that there were both Greek and Jewish exorcists who made it their business to drive out evil spirits. You will find the same in many non-Western cultures today, and—as an aside—I think those cultures probably have the right of it more than we do. It has been said that the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing people he didn’t exist, and that seems about right. How can you possibly fight something you don’t even believe exists? It’s a brilliant, devious strategic move. You can pull the North Korea strategy—try to constantly rattle your saber to keep everyone afraid of you. Or you can act like an assassin: keep a low profile, and if possible don’t even let your would-be opponents know you exist, until you’ve killed them and caused mayhem. In the hyper-secular West, that seems to be the satanic strategy of the hour, and I think it’s fair to say it’s been reasonably successful for our enemy—even if we know from passages like this one that Jesus’ ultimate victory is guaranteed.</p>
<p>That <em>wasn’t</em> the strategy of the day back then, though. And we know from those old records that the general strategy for dealing with demons was to try to use powerful command words and phrases, or to negotiate and bargain, or to use the demon’s name to get spiritual power over them, or to try to use other divine powers to bind them.</p>
<p>But we don’t see any of that in this passage. The demons recognize Jesus’ power and authority right away. You can see it there in verse 7: as soon as Jesus tells them to leave, they plead with him not to torment them. And you don’t plead with someone not to torment you unless they <em>can</em> torment you. By the time Jesus asks for a name in verse 9, the demons have already acknowledged Jesus’ power and authority in the situation. What’s more, they call him “Son of the Most High God” there in verse 7. Now, this title does double duty here.</p>
<p>First, it is another confirmation of Mark’s claim throughout his gospel: that Jesus is in fact the Son of God. And significantly, the early confessions to that effect all come on the lips of demons he exorcises. The spiritual forces know spiritual authority when they see it, even if the people don’t see it yet. So confirming that Jesus is “the Son of God” is the first thing this does.</p>
<p>The second thing it does is establish that Jesus isn’t just another player in the spiritual game. Whatever other gods someone might worship, and whatever other claims to divine power someone might offer up, Jesus trumps them all. He is the son not just of <em>some</em> god, but of <em>the Most High God</em>.</p>
<p>The fact that there is a legion of demons, as they admit in verse 9, simply heightens the contrast. We knew already that the “impure spirit” was able to torment the man; now we know that it is <em>many</em> demons. It doesn’t matter. They’re still reduced to begging and pleading with him: verse 10 tells us that the man—really, the spirits speaking through him—“begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area.”</p>
<p>Again, the power curve: Jesus’ authority isn’t even in the same ballpark as anyone else in the story—not the demonized man, not the people who were unable to help him or even restrain him, not the silent disciples, and not even the multitude of demons. He exceeds them all.</p>
</section>
<section id="beat-2b-jesus-focus-51113" class="level4">
<h4>Beat 2b: Jesus’ focus – 5:11–13</h4>
<p>Jesus’ power is only part of the story, though. As we come into vv. 11–13, we can see his <em>focus</em> as well. And that focus is healing a man in need. Read with me, starting in verse 11:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” He gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>First, this confirms what we already know: they <em>need</em> Jesus’ permission. He is in charge. But, second, it also tells us that between the man and the pigs, there wasn’t a contest for Jesus. Not because he didn’t care about pigs. We know from Colossians 1 that the eternal Son of God—who Mark is taking this whole book to tell us about—is the agent of God’s creation of the whole universe; and his powerful word is the reason that the whole universe keeps existing, pigs included. Pigs were part of what he called a “good” creation in Genesis 1. Speaking as a lover of bacon myself, I’m inclined to agree with God’s assessment: pigs are good.</p>
<p>But, and this is important: people are more important than pigs. You can find any number of modern commentators on this passage asking about the ethical implications of Jesus’ letting the demons destroy the pigs along with themselves in this way. Neither Mark nor Luke or Matthew seem bothered by this point. Neither does Jesus. Pigs matter. Pigs are good. But they don’t matter like people do. And while it is not clear from this passage why Jesus accepted the demons’ request, what is clear is that his mercy toward this man—his compassion on him—trumped any concern for the pigs. Jesus’ focus was healing and saving people. Here, we see clearly that his powerful word is not just for creation, but also for <em>salvation</em>.</p>
<p>This tells us something about Jesus’ power and authority. It is <em>good</em> power and authority. He is <em>merciful</em>. And it is so important—<em>extraordinarily</em> important—that the Son of the Most High God, the king bringing in his kingdom, be merciful. Because as Ephesians 2 tells us, before God intervenes in our lives, we’re all like this man was. We start off dead in our sins, slaves to our lusts and every desire gone wrong and totally unchecked, in the domain of darkness, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit now at work in the children of disobedience. The demons, in other words. And then Jesus steps in. As the rightful king, he has the power to free us… and he’s a <em>merciful</em> king, so he <em>does</em> free us. That’s good news. That’s gospel.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="beat-3-a-fearful-crowd-51417" class="level3">
<h3>Beat 3: A fearful crowd – 5:14–17</h3>
<p>Of course, it doesn’t always <em>look</em> like good news to everyone when Jesus shows up and starts healing people. Remember, Mark is showing us the truth of those parables from back in chapter 4. So we see here the good king who is bringing in his kingdom—in secret now, but someday in glorious light—but we also see those different kinds of soil from the parable of the sower and the seed: some fruitful, some <em>not</em> fruitful.</p>
<p>Look at what happens in verses 14 through 17:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. Those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man—and told about the pigs as well. Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I can imagine being one of the herdsmen, seeing the pigs drowned by demons, and being frightened—and maybe they were. But that’s not what Mark says. That’s not why these people were afraid. They were afraid because they saw this man who had been naked, clothed; who had been running and screaming, sitting calmly; who had been out of his mind, now in his right mind. <em>That</em> was what made them afraid.</p>
<p>Mark has created a sharp contrast here: between this scene and the one that preceded it, the calming of the storm.</p>
<ul>
<li>In both scenes, we see Jesus confronting something far more powerful than ordinary humans can handle: in the first, a terrible storm; in the second, a legion of demons.</li>
<li>In both scenes, we see him exercise his powerful word for mercy: in the first, to save his disciples from the storm; in the second, to save this man from the demons who tormented him.</li>
<li>In both scenes, we see the tumult of a broken world, and then calm and peace after Jesus acts.</li>
<li>And in both scenes, we see people who are afraid after Jesus acts.</li>
</ul>
<p>But there seems to be more than one way to be “afraid” when you see the power of God’s Spirit on display in the person of Jesus Christ. You can be afraid and still want to be with him, like the disciples. Or you can be afraid like these people were—they wanted him to leave.</p>
<p>Clearly, one of these is better than the other. Far better to be with Jesus even if his power is more than you can handle—even if you find that the Son of God is not at all safe. Because he <em>is</em> good.</p>
</section>
<section id="beat-4-an-effective-commission-51820" class="level3">
<h3>Beat 4: An effective commission – 5:18–20</h3>
<p>But Mark wants to take us even further than the disciples’ example. He wants us to see that we do not need to be afraid. Because Jesus’ <em>power</em> is expressed in <em>mercy</em> to his people. The disciples didn’t really understand who Jesus was yet, didn’t really grasp either his power or his mercy yet, but someone surprising in this story does: an unclean Gentile man who had been tortured by demons. The man Jesus healed. The one to whom he so very powerfully showed mercy. Look! Verse 18:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He begged! He is the third person to beg or plead in this story. The demons begged not to be destroyed yet—and Jesus surprisingly showed them mercy in that. The people pleaded with Jesus to leave—and Jesus surprisingly showed them mercy in that. And here—at last!—someone begs for the <em>right</em> thing: to be with Jesus. The same phrase as when Jesus called the disciples to be with him. And Jesus surprisingly… shows mercy by saying <em>no</em> to him. Verses 19 and 20:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Jesus did not let him, but said, “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” So the man went away and began to tell in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him. And all the people were amazed.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Go home to your own people”, verse 19 says—some translations say “to your friends”—“and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has mercy on you.” Precisely <em>because</em> this man understood Jesus great power and his great mercy, he had somewhere to be that wasn’t <em>with Jesus</em> yet. He knew how great God’s power was, and he knew how deep God’s mercy was. So Jesus gave him a commission, and it looks familiar: go tell the nations what God has done. The nations: this is a Gentile, not a Jew; he is in the Decapolis, Gentile country, not Jewish country. “Go tell them about God’s mercy,” Jesus says to him. Because the mercy of God is not just for the Jews. Jesus was not going to be a petty little messiah, king of a corner of Palestine. God’s mercy was for the healing of the nations. And here we see the first taste of that in Mark—because what happened? “…all the people were amazed.”</p>
<p>Mark doesn’t tell us here what came of this, what the fruit was. We don’t know how many of those who were amazed were just apparently fruitful soil, where the seed sprung up and soon withered. But it is clear that there was at least <em>one</em> who was good soil. And if Jesus’ ministry in the Decapolis in chapter 7 is any indication, it seems the Spirit may well have been using this man’s seed-sowing to prepare a great harvest some day.</p>
<p>One more thing to see here: a detail, but not a little thing. Unlike the disciples, who hadn’t <em>gotten it</em> yet—this man proclaimed <em>exactly</em> what he should have. Notice, Jesus tells him to say what “the Lord” had done for him. From a Jew, including Jesus, that meant “Yahweh,” the God of Israel. And in verse 20, “the man went away and began to tell… how much <em>Jesus</em> had done for him.” And rightly so. The mercy of Yahweh, the God of Israel, is the mercy of Jesus, the Son of the <em>Most High God</em>—the God over every pagan deity, over every demonic power, over every human heart, over <em>all</em> nations.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="summation" class="level2">
<h2>Summation</h2>
<p>A few years ago, John Piper was preaching a missions sermon, and he started with Mark 5:19. You can see why. It’s the heart of the gospel. And Piper summed up the heart of the gospel this way:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>God sent his Son into the world to save sinners from every nation so that they would glorify him for his mercy.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And that’s right. This whole narrative is a microcosm, a little picture, of the gospel, and of the right response to the gospel. Here we have a story of a Gentile man—one of the nations, not a Jew—who was literally enslaved by the powers of hell, set free by Jesus. But not just set free; set free and given a commission. Look there at verse 19 again: “Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” That commission tells us what this story is about. And the center of that commission is the center of Mark’s gospel. And in fact, it’s the center of the whole Bible. It’s the center of this <em>great</em> story we are all part of. God’s power, expressed in mercy, to save people from every nation through Jesus Christ.</p>
<p>Look how much he has done for us <em>because of that mercy</em>! He saves people like you and me, people from every nation who can’t save themselves, and he invites them into his kingdom, and he gives them a mission.</p>
</section>
<section id="invitation" class="level2">
<h2>Invitation</h2>
<p>Which is to say, he gives <em>us</em> a mission. If you are a Christian in this room—if you have said to Jesus, “Let me be with you”—then he has said to you, “Go and tell your friends how much the Lord has done for you and how he has shown mercy to you.” Every one of us should want others to know how God has saved us. If you aren’t doing that, I challenge you: tell the people around you! Tell your friends, your coworkers, your family members. If that’s hard for you—and I understand; it can be—then think back on your salvation. Think about how God has shown mercy to you. Pray for the Spirit to stir you up, to deepen your love for him and your joy in what he has done, so that your telling others isn’t out of guilt, but out of excitement. That’s a prayer he delights to answer.</p>
<p>And friend, if you are in this room and you are <em>not</em> in the kingdom? We have a good king, who offers you a pardon for your rebellion. You can be a citizen with us; we were all rebels, too. Come to him. Ask to be with him. Join us as we follow him. He has shown us mercy; he will show you mercy, too. All you have to do is surrender. Lay down your weapons. Ask for mercy. And call him Lord. If that’s you, please: let us walk with you. Come talk with us before you leave.</p>
<p>Let’s pray. Let’s pray to our powerful, merciful God.</p>
</section>
An Apology and a Hermeneutic2015-12-01T09:00:00-05:002015-12-01T09:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-12-01:/2015/an-apology-and-a-hermeneutic.html<p><em>Jesus and the Victory of God: Christian Origins and the Question of God, Volume Two</em>, by N. T. Wright, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996, 741 pages. Reviewed by Christopher Krycho.</p>
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>Few books can claim to represent a substantive entry in both apologetics and hermeneutics, yet this is precisely what N. T …</p></section><p><em>Jesus and the Victory of God: Christian Origins and the Question of God, Volume Two</em>, by N. T. Wright, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996, 741 pages. Reviewed by Christopher Krycho.</p>
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>Few books can claim to represent a substantive entry in both apologetics and hermeneutics, yet this is precisely what N. T. Wright’s <em>Jesus and the Victory of God</em> accomplishes. In this book, the second in Wright’s massive work on Christians origins,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> he treats the question of the historical Jesus via a thorough survey of the modern history of interpretation and the contents of the synoptic gospels themselves. The result is a telling well within historic Christian orthodoxy, though often at sharp angles to current historical approaches to Jesus. Along the way, he also marks out a fruitful interpretive path for Christians reading the gospels. The picture he paints of Jesus—a first-century prophet-Messiah who saw himself standing at the capstone of Israel’s history, fulfilling Yahweh’s plans for his people, but in a way no one in his day seemed to expect—is both apologetically compelling and spiritually illuminating.</p>
</section>
<section id="overview" class="level2">
<h2>Overview</h2>
<p>Wright begins with an introduction designed to orient the reader to the basic challenges confronting any would-be interpreter of Jesus in the modern era. Critical issues abound, and it is impossible to return to a pre-critical reading of the text. But though the historian must deal with any number of problems in interpreting the person of Jesus, these problems are not specific to him; they are endemic to the task of history.</p>
<p>Wright therefore begins by establishing his criteria for evaluating interpretations of Jesus’ person and program. Any such theory must account for the transition from Judaism to Christianity; it must therefore present Jesus, the lynchpin of that transformation, as not only <em>dissimilar</em> to both worldviews, but also <em>similar</em> to both (132). Jesus must have made sense to his Jewish contemporaries, but also profoundly theologically innovative, to create an entirely new community with its own theology and practice. Wright argues Jesus accomplished this via a program in which “[the] symbolic world of first-century Judaism has been rethought from top to bottom, even while its underlying theology (monotheism, election, and eschatology) has been retained” (218)—with Jesus himself at the center of the plan of Israel’s god, uniquely embodying a father-son relationship with <span class="divine-name tetragrammaton">YHWH</span>.</p>
<p>He argues this thesis in two major parts, one focusing on the work and teachings of Jesus as a messianic prophet, the other focusing on the Jesus’ aims and beliefs as he carried out his program. Along the way, Wright examines a wide and representative sample of Jesus’ reported deeds and teachings. In each case, the data fits the thesis: Jesus was retelling Israel’s story in a new way, with himself at the center of God’s plan to end his people’s long exile. By the end of the volume, Wright can thus conclude:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>[Jesus] believed himself called, by Israel’s god, to <em>evoke</em> the traditions which promised <span class="divine-name tetragrammaton">YHWH</span>’s return to Zion, and the somewhat more nebulous but still important traditions which spoke of a human figure sharing the divine throne; to <em>enact</em> those traditions in his own journey to Jerusalem, his messianic act in the Temple, and his death at the hands of the pagans (in the hope of subsequent vindication); and thereby to <em>embody</em> <span class="divine-name tetragrammaton">YHWH</span>’s return. (651)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is not a simple restatement of typical Christian belief, though of course it accords with it. It goes further, making sense of Jesus’ words and deeds in a way that meets Wright’s criterion of double dissimilarity and double similarity. The thesis passes the test.</p>
</section>
<section id="assessment" class="level2">
<h2>Assessment</h2>
<p>Wright’s volume has much to commend it: its historical method, its thoroughness, its broad engagement with opposing views, even its style. Its most significant contributions, though, fall under two basic headings: a challenge to many modern (atheological or even anti-theological) re-readings of the gospels, and a challenge to many current evangelical interpretation of the gospels. Both of these are successful in large measure because of Wright’s care (and flare) in dealing with the material and with other (contrary) treatments of the same data, but it is Wright’s ability to build cogent arguments with that material on this scale which makes this more than a tedious summary of data.</p>
<p>Against secular, demythologizing, and materialist interpretations of the text, Wright mounts a serious and substantive case for a traditional (though not uncritical) assessment of the historical reliability of the synoptics and their picture of Jesus. Many critics suppose that the picture of Jesus painted by the gospellers must be anachronistic, ideologically-driven or situationally-motivated, or inflated by faith in contradistinction to history. Such readings of Jesus paint him as any variety of figures: a sadly-mistaken apocalyptic prophet; a Stoic philosopher in first century garb; a preacher of progressive ideas of love and tolerance; the author of a new, non-Jewish religion; a preacher of Jewish (or timeless) verities. One suspects, with Wright, that many of these readings find their source not in the text but in the prejudices or preferences of the commentators. Wright’s argument, by contrast, is far more credible than any of these—and not simply because it aligns with the historic confession of Jesus as Messiah and Lord. Rather, his picture of a distinctly Jewish apocalyptic prophet makes the best sense of the actual evidence from the earliest texts, including not only the synoptic gospels but also the early epistles and even the non-canonical literature like the Gospel of Thomas.</p>
<p>The second major value of the book is its (usually, but not always, quiet) challenge to many <em>Christian</em> readings of the gospels. Wright accurately notes that many Christian interpreters, perhaps especially in the Protestant tradition, have struggled to make sense of the gospels. Many evangelical readings of the gospels find little or no connection between what Jesus said and did and his crucifixion and resurrection. Indeed, no few of the commentaries this author has read sturggle to make much of the Pharisees’ and Sadducees’ mutual hostility toward Jesus without reducing them to caricatures, or to make sense of many of the parables or their role in Jesus’ ministry. The interpretation Wright proposes accounts for all these issues, and provides a helpful hermeneutic for untangling many of the otherwise perplexing passages in the gospels.</p>
<p>Wright’s work thus walks a helpful middle ground between misinterpretations on either side. Anachronistic tendencies among both secular and Christians interpreters lead both astray. He was not a modern progressive, nor an unfortunately mistaken apocalyptic street preacher, nor a teller of timeless ethical truths, nor a preacher of a new religion of grace oddly disconnected from Judaism. Rather, he was a Jewish prophet going about the business of offering a subversive interpretation—though one deeply in touch with the Law and Prophets—of <span class="divine-name tetragrammaton">YHWH</span>’s promises to his. This is unsurprising. After all, this is precisely how the gospels present Jesus: dissimilar in certain ways from both the Judaism that preceded him and the Christianity that followed him (again: Wright’s criteria of double dissimilarity). Any telling of the historical Jesus must provide an explanation for the transition from Second Temple Judaism to Christianity, and do so on historically plausible grounds. So must any right interpretation of the gospels for Christian piety. Wright’s theory accomplishes this handily.</p>
<p>Perhaps even more important is the way in which Wright’s work strikes at a kind of nascent docetism among many Christians. While Jesus’ full humanity may be an article of faith for orthodox believers, many fail to think of what exactly that means. Jesus was not merely as a divine mystery speaking timeless truths and then fulfilling a cruciform commission strangely disconnected from his parable-telling, paralytic-healing ministry. Rather, he was a <em>man</em> standing at the conclusion the line of Jewish men who had called Israel back to faithfulness and proclaimed that Israel’s God was about saving the whole world. Not only does Wright have a Chalcedonian Christology, he is <em>more</em> orthodox than many believers: the Jesus painted in this portrait is no less human than divine. Jesus’ sense of vocation, his real temptations and struggles to fulfill that vocation, and even his not-rare, but unconventionally-embodied, claim to Messiahship were the actions of a first-century Jewish <em>man</em>. To see this clearly is to see exactly what the Fathers meant in their confession of “our Lord Jesus Christ, the same perfect in Godhead and manhood, truly God and truly man… consubstantial with us according to the Manhood, in all things like unto us, without sin…”<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> To miss it is to risk missing the humanity of Christ in all its glory.</p>
</section>
<section id="application-and-conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Application and Conclusion</h2>
<p>Wright’s work is to be commended on a number of levels. Its scholarly depth makes it a formidable resource when discussing the historical Jesus, particularly with those who reject the gospels’ claims to present Jesus accurately. Wright’s enjoyable wit makes the length of the work far more manageable. His proposed hermeneutic, though it can be pressed too far, provides a helpful tool for interpreting the synoptics. Most of all, his reminder of the real and true humanity of Jesus is a sharp rejoinder to the functional docetism all too common in evangelicalism. The book is therefore very helpful for both apologetics and exegesis. Whatever their other differences with Wright, pastors and teachers would do well to digest Wright’s work here.</p>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p><em>The New Testament and the People of God</em>; <em>Jesus and the Victory of God</em>; <em>The Resurrection of the Son of God</em>; and <em>Paul and the Faithfulness of God</em> (in two volumes).<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>The Chalcedonian Definition.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Range of Prophets2015-09-27T09:40:00-04:002015-09-27T09:40:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-09-27:/2015/a-range-of-prophets.html<p>N. T. Wright makes it painfully clear that it’s difficult (if not impossible) to understand Jesus fully and rightly without having a deep knowledge of the Old Testament:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Equally impressive are the strong hints, throughout the gospels, that Jesus was modelling his ministry not on one figure alone, but …</p></blockquote><p>N. T. Wright makes it painfully clear that it’s difficult (if not impossible) to understand Jesus fully and rightly without having a deep knowledge of the Old Testament:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Equally impressive are the strong hints, throughout the gospels, that Jesus was modelling his ministry not on one figure alone, but on a range of prophets from the Old Testament. Particularly striking is his evocation of the great lonely figure Micaiah ben Imlach (1 Kings 22), who, when asked about the coming battle, predicted the death of Ahab, king of Israel, by saying, ‘I saw all Israel scattered upon the mountains, as sheep that have no sheperd.’ Jesus, looking at the crowds, takes pity on them, because that is what they remind him of: leaderless sheep. Like Ezekiel, Jesus predicts that the temple will be abandoned by the Shekinah, left unprotected to its fate. Like Jeremiah, Jesus constantly runs the risk of being called a traitor to Israel’s national apsirations, while claiming all the time that he nevertheless is the true spokesman for the covenant god. This, as we shall see, lies behind a good part of the story of Jesus’ action in the Temple, and his subsequence ‘trial’: Jesus has predicted the destruction of the Temple and is on trial not least as a false prophet. Jesus replies to earlier critics and questioners with the sign of the prophet Jonah. Jonah was predicting immenent judgment on Nineveh, following his adventure with the fish; Jesus is predicting imminent judgment on Israel, and a similar sign will validate his message too. He is constantly redefining what the coming day will mean for Israel, warning her, like Amos, that it will be a day of darkness, not of light. Like Amos, too, he implies that the people of god are to be judged as the climax of the divine judgment upon all nations. The judgment which he announces upon Israel is sketched with the help of prophetic passages relating to the judgment of Jerusalem by Babylon, and also, more terrifyingly, passages which speak of the divine judgment upon Babylon itself.</p>
<p>Above all, Jesus adopts the style of, and consciously seems to imitate, Elijah. Here we are again in an interesting position <em>vis-à-vis</em> the sources. It is clear from all three synoptics that they, and presumably with them the early church as a whole, regard John the Baptist as in some sense Elijah <em>redivivus</em>. They nevertheless portray Jesus as acting in Elijah-like ways, and show that the disciples were thinking of Elijah-typology as giving them a blueprint for his, and their own, activity. Jesus himself, explaining the nature of his work, is portrayed using both Elijah and Elisha as models. Again, it is highly unlikely that the early church, seeing Jesus as the Messiah and hence John as Elija, created this identification out of nothing. However, at the same time, though John himself seems to have thought that Jesus was to be the new Elijah, Jesus actually returned the compliment. We begin here to see both parallel and distinction. Jesus’ ministry is so like that of Elijah that they can be easily confused. He too is announcing to the faithless people of <span class="divine-name tetragrammaton">YHWH</span> that their covenant god will come to them in wrath. But at the same time he is also acting out a different message, one of celebration and inauguration, which bursts the mould of the Elijah-model.</p>
<p>From all of this it should be clear that Jesus regarded his ministry as in continuity with, and bringing to a climax, the work of the great prophets of the Old Testament, culminating in John the Baptist, whose initiative he had used as his launching-pad.</p>
</blockquote>
Autonomous Individualism2015-09-26T13:00:00-04:002015-09-26T13:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-09-26:/2015/autonomous-individualism.html<hr />
<p>Title: Autonomous Individualism Date: 2015-09-26 13:00 Template: formats/quotation Tags: [quotes] Category: theology Source: Mark A. Seifrid, <cite>The Second Letter to the Corinthians</cite> bibliography: /Users/chris/writing/Documents/writing/library.bib csl: /Users/chris/writing/Documents/writing/chicago.csl …</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The <em>pro me</em> of the gospel does not further an …</p></blockquote><hr />
<p>Title: Autonomous Individualism Date: 2015-09-26 13:00 Template: formats/quotation Tags: [quotes] Category: theology Source: Mark A. Seifrid, <cite>The Second Letter to the Corinthians</cite> bibliography: /Users/chris/writing/Documents/writing/library.bib csl: /Users/chris/writing/Documents/writing/chicago.csl …</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The <em>pro me</em> of the gospel does not further an autonomous individualism. It brings it to an end.</p>
</blockquote>
Set the agenda2015-09-16T18:53:00-04:002015-09-16T18:53:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-09-16:/2015/set-the-agenda.html<blockquote>
<p>It would be pleasant if, for once, the historians and the theologians could set the agenda for the philosophers, instead of vice versa.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>It would be pleasant if, for once, the historians and the theologians could set the agenda for the philosophers, instead of vice versa.</p>
</blockquote>
Spirit Empowered Preaching2015-09-08T12:05:00-04:002015-09-08T12:05:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-09-08:/2015/spirit-empowered-preaching.html<p>Arturo G. Azurdia III spent several decades preaching and pastoring. He was thus well-experienced in the week-to-week work of preparing sermons and the burden of caring for a congregation. During his years of pastoral work, however, he also studied at Westminster Theological Seminary; he was at the time of the …</p><p>Arturo G. Azurdia III spent several decades preaching and pastoring. He was thus well-experienced in the week-to-week work of preparing sermons and the burden of caring for a congregation. During his years of pastoral work, however, he also studied at Westminster Theological Seminary; he was at the time of the book’s publication a professor at Western Seminary. Thus, he also brought to the table academic knowledge helpful for situating his developing understanding of the role of the Holy Spirit in a preaching ministry. Accordingly, Azurdia brings both Scripture and experience to bear in <em>Spirit Empowered Preaching</em>: the lessons he learned in seminary, he then applied in the context of his ongoing ministry, and was able to filter his experience through careful reflection on the Scriptures. <em>Spirit Empowered Preaching</em> was published not at the beginning of that career, but after considerable time behind the pulpit of an ordinary church, after he had moved into a teaching role.</p>
<p>Azurdia’s aim in <em>Spirit Empowered Preaching</em> is twofold: to demonstrate the necessity of the Holy Spirit’s work in the preacher for effective preaching, and to describe how the preacher should go about seeking the Spirit’s work in his preaching. He argues in his introduction that “the greatest deficiency in contemporary expositional ministry is powerlessness; in other words, preaching that is devoid of the vitality of the Holy Spirit” (12). That is, although right preaching necessarily entails careful exegesis and attention to the “literal, grammatical, historical, contextual, redemptive” details of a text (11), no amount of mere intellectual study on its own will accomplish God’s purposes for preaching. If the church is to be encouraged, challenged, and built up; and if outsiders are to be convicted, the Holy Spirit must be present and working efficaciously through the preacher. Only the Spirit can change human hearts. This was true for the early church, and it is true today.</p>
<p>Azurdia lays out his thesis in a brief introduction. Following that, he does not simply repeat the thesis chapter by chapter, however. Instead, he builds a broader theology of preaching and connects the different elements of the preaching ministry back to the central theme of the text. Thus, in Chapter 1, he starts by arguing that the “greater works” the disciples would do were the advancement of the gospel through the nations, and notes how Christ explicitly tied this to the coming of the promised Holy Spirit. The advance of the gospel was for the disciples, and is for modern preachers, utterly dependent on the work of God. Chapter 2 describes who the Spirit is and what he does in the life of the minister—and what goes wrong in the ministry when the Spirit is neglected. In Chapter 3, Azurdia argues for Christocentric preaching, since the Spirit is <em>Christ’s</em> Spirit and glorifies him. Chapter 4 carries this theme further: the priority of every preacher must be glorifying Christ, not merely meeting the felt needs of the people. Every topic must be heard in light of the finished work of the Savior, not standing on its own as abstract ethical instruction. In Chapter 5, he argues that the first responsibility of both the minister and the church is preaching—and that, as such, the church should understand when the pastor spends most of his time preparing for sermon delivery, rather than on other concerns. Here he also takes time to critique ministry methodologies which do not align with the gospel, especially those in many seeker-sensitive churches which have run to extremes of entertainment.</p>
<p>In Chapter 6, Azurdia comes to the core of his message: the preacher must be both generally filled with the Spirit (i.e. regenerate) and specifically filled time and again by the Spirit for preaching. Here he draws upon the frequent language of being “filled with the Holy Spirit” in Acts as well as the affirmations of preachers like Martyn Lloyd Jones. Chapter 7 is an examination of the flip-side of the necessity of the Spirit’s filling: the frustration of the pastor’s own inability. If the work of the Spirit is utterly essential for preaching to have any effect whatsoever, then all the pastor’s efforts may be for naught. This may lead to either despair (for the self-dependent man) or greater faith (for the man who trusts Christ).</p>
<p>In Chapter 8, Azurdia turns to the nature and life of a man called to this ministry: he “<em>must devote himself to a consistent pattern of fervent intercession</em>” (135, emphasis original). That the Spirit must be present for preaching to be effective is not grounds for pastors to abdicate their own responsibility. Rather, it increases their responsibility to pray for the Spirit to work through their preaching. Chapter 9 continues this focus on the life of the preacher. He must be prayerful, diligent in study, and prayerful in his study. He must remember in all this prayer that the Spirit is not a <em>tool</em> but a <em>person</em>, someone who can be grieved. The preacher must keep himself holy, and so must his congregation—because either may drive away the Spirit by their unrepentance. Chapter 10 illustrates and emphasizes this necessity of prayer in the life of both preacher and congregation. Finally, Azurdia briefly summarizes his argument: “<em>Spirit empowered preaching is the principle means of advancing the kingdom of God…. will be evangelical in emphasis…. is the responsibility of the church</em>” (179–181, emphasis original).</p>
<p>The book is persuasive and thorough, but neither as effective or as persuasive as it might have been. Azurdia’s comments on the “greater ministry” the disciples were to have are perhaps the most helpful material in the book. In general, his attention to the roles the Spirit plays in the life of the church is a helpful corrective both to the neglect the Spirit often receives from non-charismatic churches and the misinterpretations proffered by many in the charismatic movement. Likewise, his call to prayerful as well as well-studied preaching is a helpful reminder especially for preachers tempted to rely on their own intellectual merits. Gladly, and unlike E. M. Bounds’ work on prayer, he does so without ever denigrating the value of intellectual engagement and deep study. Azurdia’s counsel to study hard, pray hard, and pray during the time of study is well-taken. Those who preach should devote meaningful parts of their preparation time not only to exegesis but to fellowship with God by <em>prayerful</em> interaction with the text.</p>
<p>Perhaps the greatest strength of the book is Azurdia’s emphasis on the nature and person of the Spirit. As noted above, he refuses to indulge in the mistaken charismatic emphases on the miraculous gifts over the more central work of the Spirit: revealing Christ. All the focus on sign gifts can quickly lead people to forget that the Spirit was sent to make Christ known and glorify him. His diagnostic question is extremely helpful (and not only for evaluating charismatics, but for evaluating anyone claiming God’s hand on his ministry): “<em>Does this ministry reveal and glorify Jesus Christ?</em>” (50, emphasis original). Again, the Spirit is the spirit of truth, sent by the Father to empower the church to know and make known the Son. As such, no ministry which claims the Spirit’s power but focuses on anything other than knowing and proclaiming Christ is legitimate. At the same time, this does not mean the church should shun the Spirit to avoid those missteps—rather, the church should point to a better understanding of the Spirit’s mission, and respond in faith. A church that understands the Spirit’s proclamatory and instructing role will follow Azurdia’s counsel and dedicate itself to prayer, cognizant that apart from the Spirit the church and her pastor can do nothing. Congregations should also learn to ask that same question of <em>all</em> sermons and preachers and experiences: does it reveal and glorify Jesus Christ?</p>
<p>However, weaknesses emerge in a number of areas which substantially lessen the book’s impact. First, Azurdia makes the same move many Reformed and evangelical preachers do, elevating the preaching of the word to the primary (and nearly the sole) responsibility of the preacher. This move seems unwarranted in light of the distinction between ordinary pastors and the apostles on whose actions (in Acts 6) the view is grounded. As such, Azurdia simply passed over the many other responsibilities enjoined of shepherds in the pastoral epistles. To be sure, preaching is a necessity in the life of the church. However, it is only one of the pastor’s responsibilities, and he will find it difficult to carry it out effectively if he is not sharing life with his sheep. Thus, pastors ought to dedicate much of their time to <em>shepherding</em>: to caring for the ordinary soulish needs of their people and not only for the times of preaching. This is doctrinally necessary, and practically helpful.</p>
<p>More problematic was Azurdia’s conflation of the Spirit’s filling with an experience or sense of that filling. Like Lloyd-Jones and others he cites, Azurdia describes the anointing or unction of the Spirit as a particular sense the preacher and congregation have of the Spirit’s working through him in a unique way. Curiously, Azurdia also affirms that there may be times the Spirit is moving powerfully but the preacher is unaware of it, as in the common case of a man who preached and felt it accomplished nothing but heard later from members of his congregation how the Spirit used it in their lives. Too often in evangelicalism, <em>feeling</em> is mistaken for <em>reality</em>. Nowhere in the New Testament is the Spirit’s presence described in terms of a feeling in the preacher. Rather, it is born out by the effects of the preaching. To be sure, the Spirit may graciously grant the pastor a clear sense of his presence and power on some days, and that sense is a blessing. However, the absence of such a sense does not indicate the Spirit’s absence; neither does a strong feeling necessarily indicate his presence in power. In encouraging pastors to think in these terms, Azurdia ultimately plants seeds of discouragement in the lives of those who may preach diligently and prayerfully—and effectively—for many years without that particular experience, which is promised no one. As he notes of many experiences in charismatic circles, “we need to be concerned that the spiritual development of well-meaning Christians can become vulnerable to the law of diminishing returns… Often, the inevitable consequence is spiritual emptiness” (49). This is no less a danger for the preacher expecting a strong internal sense of anointing than for the believer wanting a fresh anointing for speaking in tongues. Preachers should indeed dedicate themselves to prayer and come with an expectation that they can accomplish nothing on their own, but they should reject as unbiblical and unhelpful the idea that their internal sense of the Spirit’s presence is accurate or indicative of his work.</p>
<p>Still, on the whole, Azurdia’s point is well-taken. The church desperately needs the Holy Spirit for her efficacy in ministry. Lives will not change unless God works: sermons will fall on deaf ears, and congregations’ ministries may produce physically helpful outcomes while leaving sinners damned. Preachers and their people must recover prayerful dependence on the third person of the Trinity. They must ask constantly of their ministries, “Does this show Christ clearly and make him look glorious?” They must plead for the Spirit to come and work. But (contra Azurdia) they must never mistake their perceived experience of the Spirit for the actual work of the Spirit.</p>
He who knew no sin...2015-09-01T16:16:00-04:002015-09-01T16:16:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-09-01:/2015/he-who-knew-no-sin.html<p>This is one of the single most beautiful sentences in the Bible, and it is <em>incredible</em> in the original:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>τὸν μὴ γνόντα ἁμαρτίαν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν ἁμαρτίαν ἐποίησεν, ἵνα ἡμεῖς γενώμεθα δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That is:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He made the one who knew no sin to be sin for us—so …</p></blockquote><p>This is one of the single most beautiful sentences in the Bible, and it is <em>incredible</em> in the original:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>τὸν μὴ γνόντα ἁμαρτίαν ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν ἁμαρτίαν ἐποίησεν, ἵνα ἡμεῖς γενώμεθα δικαιοσύνη θεοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>That is:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He made the one who knew no sin to be sin for us—so that we might become God’s righteousness in him.</p>
</blockquote>
That Something2015-08-20T08:57:00-04:002015-08-20T08:57:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-08-20:/2015/that-something.html<blockquote>
<p>You don’t just use illustrations in preaching; you illustrate <em>something</em>. You don’t just offer applications in preaching; you apply <em>something</em>. That <em>something</em> is the word of God, rightly applied.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>You don’t just use illustrations in preaching; you illustrate <em>something</em>. You don’t just offer applications in preaching; you apply <em>something</em>. That <em>something</em> is the word of God, rightly applied.</p>
</blockquote>
Straining Gnats and Siding with Pharaoh over the Midwives2015-08-01T10:00:00-04:002015-08-01T10:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-08-01:/2015/straining-gnats-and-siding-with-pharaoh-over-the-midwives.html<p>Internet acquaintance and generally solid thinker Derek Rishmawy <a href="http://derekzrishmawy.com/2015/07/31/straining-gnats-and-siding-with-pharaoh-over-the-midwives/">hits this nail</a> right on the head:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And here’s where I just want to say, if your first instinct when you watch or read about these videos is to think, “Geez, are you telling me they lied to get the footage …</p></blockquote><p>Internet acquaintance and generally solid thinker Derek Rishmawy <a href="http://derekzrishmawy.com/2015/07/31/straining-gnats-and-siding-with-pharaoh-over-the-midwives/">hits this nail</a> right on the head:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And here’s where I just want to say, if your first instinct when you watch or read about these videos is to think, “Geez, are you telling me they lied to get the footage of these people sorting through these fetal parts, or discussing prices non-chalantly over lunch? Woof. That’s a bridge too far”, then you’re reading the story wrong.</p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="http://derekzrishmawy.com/2015/07/31/straining-gnats-and-siding-with-pharaoh-over-the-midwives/">Read the whole thing.</a></p>
Not Exactly a Millennium2015-07-22T21:45:00-04:002015-07-22T21:45:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-07-22:/2015/not-exactly-a-millennium.htmlRevelation's description of a millennial reign for saints and chaining of Satan is not intended to outline a millennial doctrine (a-, pre-, or post-), but rather signals in literary and symbolic fashion the assurance of God's power over Satan and the reward for his saints.
<section id="introduction" class="level2">
<h2>Introduction</h2>
<p>Few books are as perplexing to modern readers as Revelation, and few matters within it as controversial as the nature of the millennium. As one commentator put it, “Judging from the amount of attention given by many writers to the first ten verses of chapter 20, one would think they were the single most important section of the book of Revelation.”<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> The three major millennial readings—pre-, a-, and postmillennial—divide on how to read the sequence. Both amillennial and postmillennial interpretations affirm that Christ will return at the end of the millennium and that there will be a single resurrection, whereas the premillennial interpretation anticipates Christ returning to <em>inaugurate</em> the millennium, raising (some or all of) the saints at that time and then raising all who remain at the end of the millennium for final judgment. This paper will argue that John did not in fact intend to establish a totally new doctrine of a millennium (of any sort) in this much-debated sequence, but rather intended to succor his audience with the hope of God’s faithfulness to his promises. That is: the millennial passage indicates not a duration of time—not even an indeterminate sequence as in some idealist or historicist readings—but rather depicts symbolically and numerologically the fulfillment of the promises made to the saints elsewhere in Revelation and the rest of Scripture. In particular, he draws on imagery and the recapitulatory pattern established in Ezekiel 37–48,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> presenting the same conflict multiple times from different angles to emphasize the sovereignty of God and the surety of his salvation and vindication of his saints.</p>
</section>
<section id="context" class="level2">
<h2>Context</h2>
<p>Revelation was most likely written by John the Apostle from exile on the island of Patmos in the early-to-mid-90s A.D., though it is impossible to be certain of either authorship or provenance.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> The churches which constituted John’s audience—the seven addressees of the letters that opened the book—were facing a history of persecution and the threat of future persecution. As early as the 60s A.D., the church had faced serious persecution under Nero, and it continued to face varying degrees of opposition in the years that followed. The book served then—and has served the church ever since—as an exhortation to endure and an encouragement that whatever trials come, God will accomplish justice in the end and vindicate his saints.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a></p>
<p>Although the purpose of the book is thus relatively clear, it remains difficult to interpret because of outstanding questions regarding its genre and structure. The book opens and closes in epistolary fashion; it declares itself to be a prophecy; and it is explicitly titled an apocalypse and bears all the hallmarks of the genre.<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a> As with many apocalypses, and like the Old Testament prophecies on which it is modeled and from which it draws, the book functions not merely as revelation, but also (and perhaps primarily) as exhortation—thus the epistolary frame and the consistent thematic warning against idolatry.<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a> As with apocalyptic literature in general, the book is heavy on imagery, metaphor, and symbolic representations. As such, it conveys its message at the three distinct levels of <em>visionary</em>, <em>historical</em> or <em>referential</em>, and <em>symbolic</em>.<a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> Leaping directly from the visionary to the referential level without considering the symbolic meanings will certainly lead to misinterpretation within the genre. Indeed, the book itself indicates that it conveys its message primarily through symbols.<a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a> Thus, right interpretation of the text must respect literary convention and take care not to leap from the content of John’s vision to a proposed referent without considering how symbolism may be at play.</p>
</section>
<section id="exegesis" class="level2">
<h2>Exegesis</h2>
<p>The millennial passage does not stand alone, but is part of the final, conclusive judgment cycle, beginning in 19:11 and concluding at the end of chapter 20. The sequence is comprised of five “And I saw…”<a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a> sequences, which begin in 19:11, 19:17, 20:1, 20:4, and 20:11. The millennium itself is introduced in 20:2–3 and discussion of the millennium carries on through the final defeat of Satan after his release “when the thousand years are ended” (20:7).<a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a> After God’s final crushing victory over Satan, the scene turns to eternal judgment at the great white throne. Throughout the entire final sequence, he draws heavily on the narrative, language, and imagery of Ezekiel 37–48. Thus, John’s cycle of judgment passages leads directly into a discussion of the new Jerusalem, just as Ezekiel’s judgment sequence leads into his lengthy treatment of the future, eschatological temple.<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a> Finally, John synthesizes these images from both Ezekiel with eschatological language from Isaiah, combining the two great visions into a unified whole. This pattern, and the imagery layered throughout, should both caution the reader from interpreting the sequence in strict chronological fashion—Ezekiel’s treatment is expressly recapitulatory<a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a>—and suggest that John’s intent may be comment and synthesis rather than the formulation of a wholly new doctrine.</p>
<section id="a-climactic-battle-with-the-beast-and-the-false-prophet" class="level3">
<h3>19:11–21: A Climactic Battle with the Beast and the False Prophet</h3>
<p>John opens this final section of the book with two visions. The first (19:11–16) is an image of Christ as the divine warrior, the Word of God, whose word destroys the enemies of God. The second (19:17–21) is of the defeat of those enemies and a horrifying feast—the dreadful inverse of the wedding supper of the Lamb.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a> Here is the first of several significant clues that the millennial passage that follows <em>recapitulates</em> rather than <em>follows</em> this battle. Throughout the book, with the sole exception of the appearance of nations in glory in the conclusion, “the nations” (τὰ ἐθνῆ) appear to the rebellious nations in contrast with the saints<a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a>—and the nations are <em>completely</em> destroyed here. The beast and false prophet are thrown into the lake of fire (19:20), and “the rest were slain by the sword that came from the mouth of him who was sitting on the horse” (19:21). The deceived nations that join Satan in Satan in his post-millennial war must be understood in light of this destruction.</p>
</section>
<section id="the-millenniumsatan-bound-saints-reigning-with-christ" class="level3">
<h3>20:1–6: The Millennium—Satan Bound, Saints Reigning with Christ</h3>
<p>In 20:1–3, John describes an angel binding Satan and locking him in an abyss for a thousand years. In vv. 4–6, he describes the “first resurrection” and the thousand-year reign of the martyrs-and-saints with Christ.<a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a> On the one hand, the language used here for binding Satan seems fairly strong: the angel binds him, then shuts him in the Abyss and seals and locks it.<a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a> On the other hand, this is not the first place where the New Testament speaks of Satan’s being bound (cf. especially Mark 3:27 and the parallel in Matt. 12:29, Luke 19:17–18, John 12:31, Col. 2:15).<a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a> Nor is it the first place where angelic forces defeat Satan and restrain his power (cf. Rev. 12).<a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a> The angel binds Satan, and the point seems to be the <em>effect</em> and <em>efficacy</em> rather than the <em>extent</em> of the binding: to prevent Satan from deceiving the nations and from assaulting the saints, until the climactic final battle.<a href="#fn19" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref19" role="doc-noteref"><sup>19</sup></a> It also establishes God’s rule: Satan is powerless to resist.<a href="#fn20" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref20" role="doc-noteref"><sup>20</sup></a></p>
<p>After describing Satan’s binding, John turns his attention (another “and I saw”) to saints sharing in the first resurrection. Notably, these saints are seated on thrones, and John has used the language of martyr-saints and thrones before (see 6:9ff).<a href="#fn21" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref21" role="doc-noteref"><sup>21</sup></a> The word “throne” appears some forty-seven times in the book, and apart from references to Satan’s or the beast’s rule, all of them (save perhaps these) unambiguously refer to heaven, <em>not</em> earth.<a href="#fn22" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref22" role="doc-noteref"><sup>22</sup></a> The link strongly suggests that the scene is not the earth in some future age, but heaven, and reinforces the notion that John is recapitulating material he has covered before, rather than continuing sequentially from what preceded in the text.</p>
<p>John’s language of the “first resurrection” (20:6) and the ingressive use of preterite ζάω, “They came to life…” and “the rest… did not come to life” (20:4–5) are perhaps the strongest arguments in favor of a premillennial reading of the passage. The language suggests bodily resurrection, and indeed it is unusual for the same word to be used first of spiritual and then of physical resurrection only a few phrases apart.<a href="#fn23" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref23" role="doc-noteref"><sup>23</sup></a> However, there are reasons within the text itself to think this is not John’s point. The first resurrection here includes all of, but only, the righteous; and the second all of, but only, the unrighteous.<a href="#fn24" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref24" role="doc-noteref"><sup>24</sup></a> Similarly, and more conclusively, the <em>second death</em> that parallels the (implied but never mentioned!) second resurrection<a href="#fn25" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref25" role="doc-noteref"><sup>25</sup></a> is at least primarily spiritual, while the first is clearly physical; it is therefore possible the inverse is true of the resurrections.<a href="#fn26" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref26" role="doc-noteref"><sup>26</sup></a> The kind of “coming to life” on display here is thus not <em>necessarily</em> final resurrection, but spiritual life in the interval between Christ’s comings.</p>
<p>More broadly, the literary tenor of the passage warrants caution beyond even that already suggested by the apocalyptic setting. The passage is saturated in symbolism and imagery: “chain,” “key,” “Abyss,” “dragon,” “ancient serpent,” “locked,” and “sealed” are all certainly images representing realities, rather than literal depictions of those realities.<a href="#fn27" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref27" role="doc-noteref"><sup>27</sup></a> Given ten’s association with completeness or perfection, the use of its third power is clearly symbolic as well.<a href="#fn28" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref28" role="doc-noteref"><sup>28</sup></a> Moreover, John here draws on imagery that was already prevalent in the apocalyptic literature that formed the context of his audience’s expectation. The notion of a Messianic millennium was not his invention, though he did bring it to bear in a unique context within the Christian canon.<a href="#fn29" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref29" role="doc-noteref"><sup>29</sup></a> To suggest, then, that these “thousand years” <em>must</em> be taken as a literal depiction of time, regardless of how often John repeats it, is to mistake the literary context and John’s intended meaning.<a href="#fn30" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref30" role="doc-noteref"><sup>30</sup></a> <em>All</em> the numbers in Revelation appear to have a figurative rather than literal referent.<a href="#fn31" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref31" role="doc-noteref"><sup>31</sup></a> Indeed, any directly literal approach to the millennium is necessarily “an incredible way to treat numbers in an apocalypse!”<a href="#fn32" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref32" role="doc-noteref"><sup>32</sup></a></p>
<p>Thus, a symbolic reading of the thousand years seems best—and not only in the sense that the time period in view is not literally one thousand years, but also in the sense that it points to something other than a physical reign of the martyr-saints on earth entirely. One of the functions of the millennium, on any reading, is to demonstrate both Satan’s and the nations’ lack of repentance. Neither does a thousand years of being restrained chasten Satan whatsoever, nor does that interval where Satan is restrained change the hearts of rebellious men and women.<a href="#fn33" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref33" role="doc-noteref"><sup>33</sup></a> Both Satan and rebellious humanity vindicate God’s judgment against them.</p>
</section>
<section id="a-climactic-battle-with-satan" class="level3">
<h3>20:7–10: A Climactic Battle with Satan</h3>
<p>Not itself a distinct section,<a href="#fn34" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref34" role="doc-noteref"><sup>34</sup></a> the final war with Satan recapitulates material already covered in Revelation 16–19, and also links back to both of the immediately preceding “and I saw” sections.<a href="#fn35" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref35" role="doc-noteref"><sup>35</sup></a> Here is one of the major clues that John is not building a theology of the millennium: the climactic defeat of Satan here directly echoes the previous defeat at Armageddon (16:14) and the defeat of the beast and false prophet (see above).<a href="#fn36" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref36" role="doc-noteref"><sup>36</sup></a> Indeed “the war” (ὁ πόλεμος) appears only here, at 16:14, and 19:19 in the book, further tying them together.<a href="#fn37" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref37" role="doc-noteref"><sup>37</sup></a> As noted above, the nations were utterly destroyed in the battle in 19:17–21, yet appear again here as Satan’s pawns only to be destroyed completely again. Even commentators who suppose a basically premillennial outlook therefore grant that the sequence of events with the nations here is difficult to make chronological sense of in premillennial terms.<a href="#fn38" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref38" role="doc-noteref"><sup>38</sup></a> This is the same battle, with the same enemies, and the same outcome. John is indeed following Ezekiel’s outline; like the prophet, he retells the same battle from two angles. Just as the beast and false prophet deceived the nations and led them to destruction, Satan deceives the nations only to lead them to destruction. Indeed, this serves as the conclusion to a large-scale chiasm running from the beginning of ch. 12. John introduces Satan, the beast and the false prophet, and Babylon, and in turn God judges Babylon, the beast and the false prophet, and finally Satan.<a href="#fn39" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref39" role="doc-noteref"><sup>39</sup></a></p>
<p>This outcome is as expected, in light of the rest of the book and especially the preceding section it so clearly echoes. There, Christ defeated the Beast and the false prophet utterly; here God defeats Satan utterly. No actual battle appears in either case: God’s and Christ’s victory is immediate and without contest.<a href="#fn40" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref40" role="doc-noteref"><sup>40</sup></a> Satan’s deception comes to an end once and for all, every one of his tools (whether the harlot, the false prophet and the beast, or the rebellious nations of the earth) unable to stand before God.<a href="#fn41" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref41" role="doc-noteref"><sup>41</sup></a> As in Ezekiel, the rebellious nations are destroyed in the first telling with a sword, in the second telling with fire.<a href="#fn42" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref42" role="doc-noteref"><sup>42</sup></a> Likewise, the end of Satan’s deceptions of the nations culminates in his being thrown into the lake of fire, just as were the other deceivers in ch. 19.<a href="#fn43" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref43" role="doc-noteref"><sup>43</sup></a> The millennium is not a sequence <em>following</em> the war against the saints, but a second image of the time that <em>leads up to</em> that final confrontation.</p>
</section>
<section id="after-judgment-then-consummation" class="level3">
<h3>After: Judgment, Then Consummation</h3>
<p>After Satan’s defeat, the living and the dead are judged, and those whose names are not found in the book of life are subjected to the second death—this one spiritual, joining the beast, the false prophet, and Satan in the lake of fire. Notably, the dead who are judged have not gone previously to the lake of fire here—unlike the rest of the New Testament’s expectation that the dead will be judged immediately at Christ’s return.<a href="#fn44" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref44" role="doc-noteref"><sup>44</sup></a> At the last, Death and Hades join them (just as in 1 Cor. 15:26).<a href="#fn45" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref45" role="doc-noteref"><sup>45</sup></a> Again: these are symbolic images; the visionary content cannot be translated into future-historical referents directly and without interpretation. These conclusive events <em>do</em> help resolve the point of the millennium itself, though: they align all the final judgments together, synchronize John’s telling with the Ezekiel narration he is interpreting. Thus, John turns immediately after the judgment to the final vision of the book: the New Jerusalem, and the new Heavens and new Earth, and the descent of God to dwell with humanity forever. As in Ezekiel, the focus is on the shape of the future temple, as a symbol of the perfect restoration of God’s place of fellowship with humanity—only magnified manifold even beyond Ezekiel’s vision. Further, John’s integration of Isaianic imagery here into the new Jerusalem/heaven and earth strongly militates against interpreting Isaiah 65 as pointing to a millennial age.<a href="#fn46" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref46" role="doc-noteref"><sup>46</sup></a> The turn to this massively perfect garden-city-temple emphasizes the finality of God’s eschatological work. It also further demonstrates that John’s concern, unlike so many commentators, was not the establishment of a doctrine of a millennium. Rather, John sought to make clear that God’s victory would be final and complete, that justice would be done in the world, and that the saints would have the reward he promised them.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="concern" class="level2">
<h2>Concern</h2>
<p>The church may err—indeed, <em>has</em> erred—in several ways in its interpretation of the Apocalypse. One the one hand, she may swerve into the kind of sensuousness attributed to Papias and others early in the history of the church, prompting Origin and Augustine to take a purely spiritual reading of the millennium, with the Reformers following them. On the other hand, the church has sometimes carried this idealized reading into spiritualizing away Christ’s return. Neither of these are good. John’s millennium is not a literal thousand years, nor even an unspecified-but-lengthy period of time when the former saints reign in resurrected bodies on a still-fallen earth, with sin yet-unjudged, over others who are still mortal and can reject salvation.<a href="#fn47" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref47" role="doc-noteref"><sup>47</sup></a> But it is not a throwaway idea, and it should not lead the church to mischaracterize <em>other</em> elements of John’s eschatology.</p>
<p>John uses this language not to outline a new eschatological doctrine, but to shine light on an old one: God’s work overthrowing the powers of the present age in his Messiah’s incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension. He reiterates what he and others have already said: Satan’s power to deceive the nations has been broken, because the strong man came and bound him.<a href="#fn48" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref48" role="doc-noteref"><sup>48</sup></a> Christ is reigning <em>now</em> (Hebrews 1:3–4), though there is a greater reign yet to come. Moreover, the broader context of the book makes clear that John’s point here is not to suggest some future half-way stop between fall and glory. Rather, he assures saints that even now, Satan’s hatred and lies are restrained—however fierce they may seem at times. As such, the saints can stand fast in the face of whatever trials they face.</p>
<p>There are two major implications of this reading for the life of the church. First, and foundational for the second, Revelation as a book and this passage specifically have something to say to the church <em>today</em>. These are not merely vague notions about an unknown future, which confuse rather than comfort. Instead, they are a symbolic (but for that no less <em>true</em>) proclamation of the reign of Jesus Christ, the Ancient of Days, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords who will one day let Satan loose only to destroy him and his evil utterly. Secondly, therefore, the church should <em>preach</em> this book, and regularly. John’s promises about the future will lead the church now to stand fast when the surrounding world calls for compromise and the temptation to idolatry rears its head, as it does in every generation. Satan is bound; Christ reigns <em>now</em>, and the saints with him; and someday Christ will come again, judge the living and the dead once for all, and consummate his kingdom. “Here is a call for the endurance of the saints, those who keep the commandments of God and their faith in Jesus” (Rev. 14:12). The indicative—Christ reigns, Satan is bound—prompts an imperative: life as if this is so!<a href="#fn49" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref49" role="doc-noteref"><sup>49</sup></a> Come temptations to materialism, or the worship of ancestors, or nationalism, or any other idolatry, Christians proclaim Christ alone is Lord. —</p>
<p>–</p>
</section>
<section id="works-cited" class="level1">
<h1>Works Cited</h1>
<!-- Inserted automatically by pandoc-citeproc -->
<div id="refs" class="references" role="doc-bibliography">
<div id="ref-aune:revelation.1.5:1997">
<p>Aune, David E. <em>Revelation 1–5</em>. Edited by Bruce M. Metzger and Ralph P. Martin. Vol. 52A. Word Biblical Commentary. Dallas: Word Books, 1997.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-aune:revelation.17.22:1998">
<p>———. <em>Revelation 17–22</em>. Edited by Bruce M. Metzger and Ralph P. Martin. Vol. 52C. Word Biblical Commentary. Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1998.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-beale:revelation:1999">
<p>Beale, G. K. <em>The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text</em>. Edited by Donald A. Hagner I. Howard Marshall. The New International Greek Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1999.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-beale:millennium:2013">
<p>Beale, Gregory K. “The Millennium in Revelation 20:1-10: An Amillennial Perspective.” <em>Criswell Theological Review</em> 11, no. 1 (2013): 29–62.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-boring:revelation:1989">
<p>Boring, M. Eugene. <em>Revelation</em>. Edited by James Luther Mays and Paul J. Achtemeier. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville, Kentucky: John Knox Press, 1989.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-jmford:revelation:1975">
<p>Ford, J. Massyngberde. <em>Revelation: Introduction, Translation and Commentary</em>. Edited by David Noel Freedman and Raymond E. Brown. The Anchor Bible. Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1975.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-gorman:revelation:2011">
<p>Gorman, Michael J. <em>Reading Revelation Responsibly: Uncivil Worship and Witness: Following the Lamb into the New Creation</em>. Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2011.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-kistemaker:revelation:2001">
<p>Kistemaker, Simon J. <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em>. New Testament Commentary. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books, 2001.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-koester:revelation:2014">
<p>Koester, Craig R. <em>Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary</em>. Edited by John J. Collins. Vol. 38A. The Anchor Yale Bible. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-mangina:revelation:2010">
<p>Mangina, Joseph L. <em>Revelation</em>. Edited by R. R. Reno. Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible. Grand Rapids, Michigan: BrazosPress, 2010.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-merkle:millennium:2014">
<p>Merkle, Benjamin L, and W Tyler Krug. “Hermeneutical Challenges for a Premillennial Interpretation of Revelation 20.” <em>The Evangelical Quarterly</em> 86, no. 3 (2014): 210–26.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-r.mounce:revelation:1998">
<p>Mounce, Robert H. <em>The Book of Revelation</em>. Edited by Gordon D. Fee. Revised Edition. The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-osborne:revelation:2002">
<p>Osborne, Grant R. <em>Revelation</em>. Edited by Moisés Silva. Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2002.</p>
</div>
<div id="ref-patterson:revelation:2012">
<p>Patterson, Paige. <em>Revelation</em>. Edited by E. Ray Clendenen. Vol. 39. The New American Commentary. B&H Publishing Group, 2012.</p>
</div>
</div>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Robert H. Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em>, ed. Gordon D. Fee, Revised Edition, The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1998)</span>, 360; commentators across the spectrum make the same point—see similar comments in <span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">M. Eugene Boring, <em>Revelation</em>, ed. James Luther Mays and Paul J. Achtemeier, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville, Kentucky: John Knox Press, 1989)</span>, 202; <span class="citation" data-cites="patterson:revelation:2012">Paige Patterson, <em>Revelation</em>, ed. E. Ray Clendenen, vol. 39, The New American Commentary (B&H Publishing Group, 2012)</span>, 361, <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Grant R. Osborne, <em>Revelation</em>, ed. Moisés Silva, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2002)</span>, 697, 716.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">Boring, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 207, 209; <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 357; <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">G. K. Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text</em>, ed. Donald A. Hagner I. Howard Marshall, The New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1999)</span>.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>Although some evangelical scholars contest the date, and many critical scholars have suggested other authors, the textual evidence points most strongly to traditional authorship, with a late date. So <span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Simon J. Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em>, New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Books, 2001)</span>], 26–38; and see also the exhaustive (though inconclusive) summary in <span class="citation" data-cites="aune:revelation.1.5:1997">David E. Aune, <em>Revelation 1–5</em>, ed. Bruce M. Metzger and Ralph P. Martin, vol. 52A, Word Biblical Commentary (Dallas: Word Books, 1997)</span>, lvi–lxx.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="gorman:revelation:2011">Michael J. Gorman, <em>Reading Revelation Responsibly: Uncivil Worship and Witness: Following the Lamb into the New Creation</em> (Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2011)</span>, ch. 2, §<em>Prophecy</em>, ¶6. <abbr>EPUB</abbr>.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="aune:revelation.1.5:1997">Aune, <em>Revelation 1–5</em></span>, lxxi–xc.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="aune:revelation.1.5:1997">Aune</span>, lxxxvii; <span class="citation" data-cites="gorman:revelation:2011">Gorman, <em>Reading Revelation Responsibly</em></span>, ch. 2, §<em>Prophecy</em>, ¶6–9. <abbr>EPUB</abbr>.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Gregory K Beale, “The Millennium in Revelation 20:1-10: An Amillennial Perspective.” <em>Criswell Theological Review</em> 11, no. 1 (2013): 29–62</span>, 31; <span class="citation" data-cites="merkle:millennium:2014">Benjamin L Merkle and W Tyler Krug, “Hermeneutical Challenges for a Premillennial Interpretation of Revelation 20,” <em>The Evangelical Quarterly</em> 86, no. 3 (2014): 210–26</span>, 224.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Beale, “The Millennium in Revelation 20.”</span>, 30.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>καὶ εἶδον; author’s translation. On και as sequential vs. conjunctive, see <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Beale</span>, 32.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>Unless otherwise noted, quotations are from the English Standard Version.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>On the fourfold pattern of both Ezekiel and John, see <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 976–977.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Beale, “The Millennium in Revelation 20.”</span>, 35–36.<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 687–688; <span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Craig R. Koester, <em>Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary</em>, ed. John J. Collins, vol. 38A, The Anchor Yale Bible (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014)</span>, 767.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 536.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>The identity of the martyrs/saints is primarily significant for premillennial readings. In any case it seems most likely that John has martyrs in view, but as representatives of <em>all</em> the saints. So <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 704; <span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 771; and contra variously <span class="citation" data-cites="aune:revelation.17.22:1998">David E. Aune, <em>Revelation 17–22</em>, ed. Bruce M. Metzger and Ralph P. Martin, vol. 52C, Word Biblical Commentary (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1998)</span>, 1104; <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 365–366; <span class="citation" data-cites="patterson:revelation:2012">Patterson, <em>Revelation</em></span>.<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p>So <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 701–702.<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 985; cf. , <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 361 and <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 702.<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="jmford:revelation:1975">J. Massyngberde Ford, <em>Revelation: Introduction, Translation and Commentary</em>, ed. David Noel Freedman and Raymond E. Brown, The Anchor Bible (Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1975)</span>, 330.<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn19" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 785.<a href="#fnref19" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn20" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester</span>, 783.<a href="#fnref20" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn21" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 706.<a href="#fnref21" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn22" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 537; <span class="citation" data-cites="merkle:millennium:2014">Merkle and Krug, “Hermeneutical Challenges for a Premillennial Interpretation of Revelation 20.”</span>, 224.<a href="#fnref22" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn23" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 366. See also the comments an ἀναστάσις in <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 1004.<a href="#fnref23" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn24" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 775. This assumes that the martyrs here represent in synechdochal fashion <em>all</em> the saints; see <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 704–705; and <span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 771.<a href="#fnref24" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn25" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">Boring, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 208; <span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 539–540.<a href="#fnref25" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn26" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="aune:revelation.17.22:1998">Aune, <em>Revelation 17–22</em></span>, 1089–1090; <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 370 notes the inversion of the universality and selectivity of the resurrection and death, but not the spiritual/physical duality.<a href="#fnref26" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn27" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 995; <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Beale, “The Millennium in Revelation 20.”</span>, 30–31; <span class="citation" data-cites="merkle:millennium:2014">Merkle and Krug, “Hermeneutical Challenges for a Premillennial Interpretation of Revelation 20.”</span>, 223.<a href="#fnref27" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn28" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span><a href="#fnref28" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn29" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">Boring, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 206; <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 367–368. For helpful interactions with other millennial literature of the era, see <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 1018–1019; <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 701; <span class="citation" data-cites="jmford:revelation:1975">Ford, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 352–354.<a href="#fnref29" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn30" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="merkle:millennium:2014">Merkle and Krug, “Hermeneutical Challenges for a Premillennial Interpretation of Revelation 20.”</span>, 223–224.<a href="#fnref30" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn31" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra <span class="citation" data-cites="patterson:revelation:2012">Patterson, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 353, who thinks <em>all</em> the numbers in the book are literal.<a href="#fnref31" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn32" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, p. 362 n. 11. So likewise, <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 995; <span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 533, 535; <span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 774. A more reasonable but still flawed approach appears in <span class="citation" data-cites="mangina:revelation:2010">Joseph L. Mangina, <em>Revelation</em>, ed. R. R. Reno, Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible (Grand Rapids, Michigan: BrazosPress, 2010)</span>, 231.<a href="#fnref32" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn33" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rightly, <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 697–698; <span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 776, 788; <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 363.<a href="#fnref33" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn34" role="doc-endnote"><p>There is no demarcating καὶ εἶδον.<a href="#fnref34" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn35" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra e.g. , <span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">Boring, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 194; Boring also includes the New Jerusalem in this sequence as well to get to a seven-part series—a rather doubtful structure. Rightly, <span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 531–532; <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 980.<a href="#fnref35" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn36" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thus, <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 688 grants that 20:8b is <em>the</em> problem for premillennial interpretations of the passage.<a href="#fnref36" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn37" role="doc-endnote"><p>See <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Beale, “The Millennium in Revelation 20.”</span>, 33–35; and <span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 532.<a href="#fnref37" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn38" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 788 and <span class="citation" data-cites="aune:revelation.17.22:1998">Aune, <em>Revelation 17–22</em></span>, 1095; cf. , <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 688, who suggests that only the <em>armies</em> are destroyed in ch. 19 because “…there must be some present to follow the dragon when he is released in 20:7.” But nothing in the test suggests this.<a href="#fnref38" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn39" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 544.<a href="#fnref39" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn40" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">Boring, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 210.<a href="#fnref40" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn41" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>. See also the parallels noted by <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:millennium:2013">Beale, “The Millennium in Revelation 20.”</span>, 33–37.<a href="#fnref41" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn42" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 976–977.<a href="#fnref42" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn43" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="kistemaker:revelation:2001">Kistemaker, <em>Exposition of the Book of Revelation</em></span>, 544; cf. , <span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 373–374.<a href="#fnref43" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn44" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce</span>, 360–361 notes the parallels to Jude and 2 Peter but rejects the implication; <span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 1030–1031, rightly notes that the nations in 19:20 go to final, not “preconsummation judgment” (1031).<a href="#fnref44" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn45" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="r.mounce:revelation:1998">Mounce, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 378; <span class="citation" data-cites="osborne:revelation:2002">Osborne, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 709.<a href="#fnref45" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn46" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="koester:revelation:2014">Koester, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 777; contra <span class="citation" data-cites="patterson:revelation:2012">Patterson, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 355, who asserts (without supporting argument) that Isaiah’s imagery <em>must</em> precede the consummation.<a href="#fnref46" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn47" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="merkle:millennium:2014">Merkle and Krug, “Hermeneutical Challenges for a Premillennial Interpretation of Revelation 20.”</span>, 213.<a href="#fnref47" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn48" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="beale:revelation:1999">Beale, <em>The Book of Revelation</em></span>, 985.<a href="#fnref48" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn49" role="doc-endnote"><p><span class="citation" data-cites="boring:revelation:1989">Boring, <em>Revelation</em></span>, 202.<a href="#fnref49" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Tweets on Psych Medication2015-07-22T08:34:00-04:002015-07-22T08:34:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-07-22:/2015/tweets-on-psych-medication.html<p>Yesterday evening, I saw Peter Leithart (<a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a>) retweet this from the <a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> account:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Psych meds are a lobotomy in a bottle. -Rich Bledsoe<br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis/status/623671327447248896">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:50</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I responded, because I’m a theologically conservative Christian with a high view of the value of spiritual work on our psyches …</p><p>Yesterday evening, I saw Peter Leithart (<a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a>) retweet this from the <a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> account:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Psych meds are a lobotomy in a bottle. -Rich Bledsoe<br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis/status/623671327447248896">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:50</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I responded, because I’m a theologically conservative Christian with a high view of the value of spiritual work on our psyches, and therefore agree with much of the <em>intent</em> of this critique—but also a Christian with a robust anthropology (of the sort I would expect Leithart to have!) which undercuts <em>this</em> kind of response.</p>
<p>Perhaps it is simply that I am more attuned to these things because my wife deals with clinical depression, but in any case this kind of thinking is <em>profoundly</em> destructive, and all-too common in the church.</p>
<p>My response:</p>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> No. This is a horrifyingly misguided and indeed misanthropic way of stating what may be a useful critique. <a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a><br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/623672572551561220">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:55</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> It is one thing to say that we overmedicate—we do. It is another to say that psych meds lobotomize us—they do not. <a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a><br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/623672684434599936">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:55</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> To put it in these terms <em>at all</em> is to mistake at the most fundamental level our embodied, fallen, human nature. <a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a><br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/623672770069680128">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:55</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> We must say “No” to the captivity of self-medication <em>without</em> rejecting the gift of medicine for broken bodies. <a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a><br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/623673129072762880">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:57</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> And our bodies include our brains; we are not conveniently separable entities, with psyches untrammeled from flesh. <a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a><br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/623673258840354816">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:57</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><a href="https://twitter.com/_Theopolis">@_Theopolis</a> So by all means, proceed with a critique of cultural folly. But do so with pastoral sensitivity to damaged sheep. <a href="https://twitter.com/PLeithart">@PLeithart</a><br/> <a href="https://twitter.com/chriskrycho/status/623673467259518976">∞</a> July 21, 2015 21:58</p>
</blockquote>
The Mystery of the Table2015-07-11T17:00:00-04:002015-07-11T17:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-07-11:/2015/the-mystery-of-the-table.html<p>The Lord’s Table—that microcosm of the great Wedding Supper of the Lamb, the celebration of the end of the age and the dawn of eternal glory—is, sadly and ironically, one of the great sources of division and contention among the people of God. While this division is …</p><p>The Lord’s Table—that microcosm of the great Wedding Supper of the Lamb, the celebration of the end of the age and the dawn of eternal glory—is, sadly and ironically, one of the great sources of division and contention among the people of God. While this division is tragic, it does rightly reflect the importance of the issue, reflecting as it does on central issues including a church’s or denomination’s Christology, pneumatology, and ecclesiology. It is both important enough to divide over, and central enough to warrant ongoing effort to reconcile over. However, to either rightly divide or rightly reunite, believers must have a clear understanding of the issues at stake in the discussion, as well as the Biblical, theological, reasonable, and traditional bases for those reasons.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>Three major questions confront the church regarding the Lord’s Supper: <em>What is it?</em>, <em>Who may administer it?</em>, and <em>Who may receive it?</em> The first question is a matter of Christology and sacramentology; the second and third questions are ecclesiological, but depend on the first.</p>
<section id="christology-and-sacramentology" class="level2">
<h2>Christology and sacramentology</h2>
<p>The classic Catholic view, <em>transubstantiation</em> is the idea that in the Lord’s Supper, the body and blood of Christ become truly, physically present in the elements—not in their physical makeup, but in their ontological reality.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> Protestants have frequently characterized this view as a <em>re-sacrifice</em> of Christ, in which the priest sacrifices Christ again. The actual Roman Catholic view is not a <em>re-offering of Christ</em>, however, but a <em>re-presentation of Christ’s offering</em>. Put another way, when the priest offers the sacrament, the congregation mystically participates in the once-for-all action that Christ accomplished at the cross in time and space.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> (Granting that the Protestant characterization accurately reflects popular Catholic piety regarding the Mass—but just as Protestants would not wish to be judged on the worst excesses of their own traditions’ popular piety, so they should interact with the best of Catholic thought and not only its worst extremes.) Catholics further believe that God provides grace to aid the believer in life and to save from the power of sin by taking the mass.</p>
<p>The Lutheran concept of the Table is different from the Catholic position, but nearer it than most other Protestant views. Luther rejected many elements of Roman Catholic <em>practice</em> of the mass, along with the Catholic doctrines of transubstantiation and re-presentation.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> However, he insisted that Christ’s body and blood were nonetheless physically present in the bread and wine. In support of this view, he leaned heavily on the language of the words of institution, “This is my body… this is my blood…” The simple declaration he took to be a clear indication of <em>reality</em>, rather than <em>sign</em> and <em>signified</em> (as Zwingli argued in their debates). That is: “the body and blood of Christ are received through the acts of eating and drink… the consecrated bread <em>is</em> his body and the consecrated wine <em>is</em> his blood.”<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a> (Many) Lutherans are thus inclined to take the Reformed view (see below) as of an “<em>unreal, fictitious</em> presence” in contrast with a real, “<em>corporeal</em> presence.”<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a></p>
<p>There are variations in the Reformed tradition, most prominently Zwingli’s memorial view and Calvin’s “real” or “spiritual” presence view. Of these, Calvin’s is the most distinctive and the most widely practiced apart from Zwingli’s view, and is the dominant view among orthodox/Westminster Presbyterians. Calvin argued that Supper is a gift from God the Father, which points to Jesus Christ, as the Holy Spirit makes Christ really present to believers.<a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> He took the words of institution to indicate that Jesus really is present with believers in the feast—“the incarnate, risen and ascended Jesus Christ along with the grace that God promises.”<a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a> For Calvin and his successors, the bread and wine are really bread and wine, and these untransformed elements are themselves part of God’s gift.<a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a> At the same time, this view takes the words of institution as more than mere sign-language; it affirms that through the Spirit believers are truly partaking of Christ himself.</p>
<p>Probably the dominant view among Western evangelicals is that the Supper is symbolic or memorial only. First articulated by Zwingli and championed by the Anabaptists and Baptists in the centuries that followed, this approach has its adherents among nearly all present-day free-church denominations and non-denominational churches, including the majority of Baptists and charismatics (of all “waves”). There is no single view among Baptists or other low-church evangelicals (Pentecostals or other charismatics included), since they have no single binding authority, whether ecclesiastical or confessional.<a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a> Nonetheless, some standard contours do emerge: baptist theologians tend to emphasize that the grace of God is specially present, but only in the same ways it is specially present in preaching, fellowship, or other normal means of grace. On the other hand, common piety regards the supper as purely symbolic, having no gracious content whatsoever.<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a> Popular views among charismatics may modify this somewhat, however, by including the idea of healing at the Table, as an act of the Spirit for the gathered church.<a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="ecclesiological-practice" class="level2">
<h2>Ecclesiological Practice</h2>
<p>Nearly all major traditions partake of the Lord’s Supper as gathered churches—not in individual or family settings (though there are of course exceptions). While some denominations and organizations also practice the Eucharist in parachurch contexts, this is the exception rather than the rule.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a> The Catholic church offers the Mass daily: as the supreme sacrament and primary means of grace in the life of a Catholic believer, it must be taken frequently. Lutherans, most Reformed churches, Anglicans, and Methodists generally take the Supper weekly, usually as the climax of the Sunday service. By contrast, most other low-church evangelicals—whether denominationally affiliated or not, and whether charismatic or not—come to the table much less frequently. There is no typical pattern among such groups. Taking the supper as rarely as once or twice a year is not unheard-of, taking it weekly is rare, and monthly or quarterly perhaps the most common.</p>
<p>Various demoninations’ restrictions on the Table vary significantly. The Catholic and Orthodox generally restrict the Table to those in communion with their traditions. Some (though by no means all) Lutherans and Reformed similarly bar from the Supper those who do not share their particular confessional stances.<a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a> Among the free church traditions, practices vary widely. On the one hand, many modern baptistic churches practice fully open communion<a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a>—a practice that has deep roots in the tradition, dating at least to the practice of John Newton’s church. On the other hand, the majority of Baptists historically and many today argue for closed communion, where only believers baptized <em>as believers</em> (and usually by immersion) may take communion.<a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a> Across all traditions, advocates of more “open” communion emphasize that it is a universal church institution that emphasizes Christ’s work on behalf of <em>all</em> believers, while those in favor of “closed” communion emphasize the importance of the elements that do separate the denominations—not least their Christology.</p>
</section>
<section id="spiritual-presence-practiced-regularly" class="level2">
<h2>Spiritual Presence, Practiced Regularly</h2>
<p>Although the Roman Catholic and Lutheran traditions are commendable for their attentiveness to the words of institution, there remain substantial problems with both their views. The Roman Catholic emphasis on priestly mediation of the mass obscures Christ’s all-sufficiency as mediator; likewise, the language of re-presentation of Christ’s sacrifice obscures the finality of Christ’s act on the cross. The Lutheran view recognizes no distinction whatsoever between sign and thing signified, and it hangs on the interpretation of the crucial “is” in the words of institution, ironically without regard for how language (sign) may convey something other than than bare sense (signified). Meanwhile, purely symbolic/memorial views fail to give due attention to either the seriousness of Christ’s words at institution or the ways in which God has always mediated his grace through physical signs and symbols. The language of both Old and New Testament ordinances is more than merely figurative: God really did something in the sacrifice of sheep and goats, and he really does something in baptism, church discipline, and the Eucharist.</p>
<p>Calvin’s “real presence” view seems the best of the options. It maintains the immensity of Christ’s proclamation of his presence, but without insisting on a view of that presence that diminishes his corporeal ascension. It maintains a truly sacramental view of the material elements, thereby claiming the goodness of the created order and God’s right to use his created world in particular and spiritual ways, but without embracing an <em>ex opere operato</em> interpretation of his grace along the way. Finally, it both maintains the actual presence of Christ himself and is beautifully Trinitarian, understanding that presence as effected by the Spirit, who both catches the believer up to heaven and mediates the Savior to his people in their fellowship, as believers partake of the free gift of the Father.</p>
<p>The Lord’s Supper is a demonstration of the unity of Christ’s people, and as such it should be extended as widely as possible. On the one hand, it is important to offer the Supper only to those who are professing believers in Christ. On the other, refusing communion to those who worship the Trinitarian God in the risen Lord Jesus proclaims division in the very practice meant to display the church’s unity. Against the practice of “closed” communion, churches should welcome to the table any who trust in Christ. “It is a meal of remembrance for Jesus’ sacrifice that brought us forgiveness from sins. As such it is solely a meal for disciples…. Therefore our communion is open to all who profess to be followers and disciples of Christ.”<a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a></p>
<p>As to frequency, Scripture is silent, and so it behooves Christians today not to press any position too strongly. Yet it still seems fair to say that if indeed the ordinance is a place of special meeting between Christ and his people, then his people should be eager to meet with him often. In that light, weekly communion seems best. However, this does not necessarily entail partaking of the Table in every service (though it may). Churches might also opt to leave it at its current monthly or quarterly frequency for corporate gatherings, but make it a part of the weekly gathering of small groups, for example, thus emphasizing both the broader community of the church and the particular unity of the communities within it.<a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>Many believers are tempted to dismiss these sorts of details as of little importance—secondary issues that do not or should not affect them or the life of their church. However, because the church’s practice of the Lord’s Supper has implications in so much of the church’s life, her doctrine and practice at the Table are in fact quite important. Rightly understood and practiced, the Table teaches the church about Christology, the communion of the saints, the work of the Spirit, the goodness of the created order, and the relationship between Christ’s work and God’s grace. These are not light matters; they are foundational in the life of the church. The high-church traditions certainly have this much right, then: the liturgies and practices of the church matter. Indeed, in many ways, the <em>practices</em> of a community may be as profound a force in shaping her people as the <em>proclamations</em> of her leaders.<a href="#fn19" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref19" role="doc-noteref"><sup>19</sup></a> Any Christian community with deficient views or practices of communion will <em>necessarily</em> be lacking in its worship and fellowship. Christians are called to unity, and it is around the table that their unity is most deeply proclaimed. If there is any place for ecumenism among Christian denominations, it is at the Table. Likewise, Christians are called to worship not just Christ-the-idea, but Christ-the-man, whose body and blood they spiritually receive for the nourishment of their souls: the good gift of the Father, worked in them by the Spirit. Christ the Lord is seated in heaven, and is spiritually present everywhere, but he is spiritually present <em>especially</em> at the Table,<a href="#fn20" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref20" role="doc-noteref"><sup>20</sup></a> and this is a great comfort to saints in the midst of trials and woes.</p>
<hr />
</section>
<section id="works-cited" class="level1">
<h1>Works Cited</h1>
<ul>
<li><p>Bergman, Mike. “Why We Practice ‘Open’ Communion.” SBC Voices. Posted September 9, 2011. http://sbcvoices.com/why-we-practice-open-communion/ (accessed June 29, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Catholic Church. <em>Catechism of the Catholic Church: Revised in Accordance with the Official Latin Text Promulgated by Pope John Paul II</em>. Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1997.</p></li>
<li><p>Gros, Jeffrey. “The Roman Catholic View.” In <em>The Lord’s Supper: Five Views</em>, edited by Gordon T. Smith, 13–31. Downers Grove: IVP Academic,</p>
<ol start="2008" type="1">
<li></li>
</ol></li>
<li><p>Kärkkäinen, Veli-Matti. “The Pentecostal View.” In Smith, 117-135.</p></li>
<li><p>Moore, Russell D. “Table Manners.” <em>Touchstone</em>, Sept/Oct 2011. http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=24-05-016-v (accessed June 29, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Olson, Roger E. “The Baptist View.” In Smith, 91–108.</p></li>
<li><p>Smith, James K. A. <em>Desiring the Kingdom</em>. TODO</p></li>
<li><p>Stephenson, John R. “The Lutheran View.” In Smith, 41–58.</p></li>
<li><p>Van Dyk, Leanne. “The Reformed View.” In Smith, 67–82.</p></li>
</ul>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>The Wesleyan Quadrilateral is a helpful framework for all theological work, and perhaps especially for any sort of ecumenical work, so long as the centrality and final authority of Scripture itself over the other criteria is upheld.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Jeffrey Gros, “The Roman Catholic View,” in <em>The Lord’s Supper: Five Views</em>, ed. Gordon T. Smith (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2008), 17–19; cf. Catholic Church, <em>Catechism of the Catholic Church: Revised in Accordance with the Official Latin Text Promulgated by Pope John Paul II</em> (Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1997), 1362–1367.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>Gros, 19–20.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>At the least, he rejected his understanding of those views, and probably as well the Catholic church’s popular teaching at the item; leaving aside aside the issue of Roman Catholic views on tradition and authority, is is possible either that Luther was mistaken on Catholic dogma or that Catholic teaching has been clarified helpfully in the intervening centuries.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>John R. Stephenson, “The Lutheran View,” in Smith, 45.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>ibid., 48; emphasis original.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>Leanne Van Dyk, “The Reformed View,” in Smith, 75–77.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>ibid., 78.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>So, rightly, David E. Willis, <em>Notes on the Holiness of God</em> (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), p. 93, quoted in Smith, 35. Cf. <em>Catechism of the Catholic Church</em>, 1333.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>Roger E. Olson, “The Baptist View,” in Smith, 93–94; Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, “The Baptist View: A Pentecostal Response,” in Smith, 115.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>Olson, 101.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, “The Pentecostal View,” in Smith, 126–128.<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>The author was very briefly an attendee of a Wesley Foundation campus organization in college where the Eucharist was a regular part of the weekly service.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Gros, 31; Stephenson, 56–57.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Olson, 37, “Withholding sacramental sharing on the basis of disagreement about the nature of the Lord’s supper seems odd to us… we are not offended by Catholics’ closed Communion, but we find it odd and exclusive”—a sentiment he reiterates on p. 64.<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Russell D. Moore, “Table Manners,” Touchstone, Sept/Oct 2011, http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=24-05-016-v (accessed June 29, 2015).<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p>Mike Bergman, “Why We Practice ‘Open’ Communion,” SBC Voices, posted September 9, 2011, http://sbcvoices.com/why-we-practice-open-communion/ (accessed June 29, 2015).<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p>This highlights the contextual nature of the practice: while regular Communion is a natural outworking of any sacramental view, the way that works out in practice naturally looks very different in a house church than in a megachurch, and different in Kenya than in Kansas.<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn19" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. James K. A. Smith, <em>Desiring the Kingdom</em>.<a href="#fnref19" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn20" role="doc-endnote"><p>A point made by Nathan A. Finn in numerous class lectures and private conversations.<a href="#fnref20" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
More than a Watchword2015-06-23T08:38:00-04:002015-06-23T08:38:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-06-23:/2015/more-than-a-watchword.html<blockquote>
<p>Holy Scripture is more than a watchword. It is also more than ‘light for today.’ It is God’s revealed Word for all men, for all times.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>Holy Scripture is more than a watchword. It is also more than ‘light for today.’ It is God’s revealed Word for all men, for all times.</p>
</blockquote>
Future Hope, Resurrection Bodies, and a Coming Kingdom2015-06-13T22:00:00-04:002015-06-13T22:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-06-13:/2015/future-hope-resurrection-bodies-and-a-coming-kingdom.htmlDan C. Barber and Robert A. Peterson's <cite>Life Everlasting</cite> is a helpful corrective to pop evangelicalism's views on heaven in some ways… but it falls profoundly short when it comes to the promises of resurrection and God's kingdom.
<p>Dan C. Barber and Robert A. Peterson’s <em>Life Everlasting</em> is an introductory look at the Biblical picture of heaven and eschatological hope. The authors, noting the prevalence of near-death experience accounts, the fascination many Christians evince with life after death, and the many misunderstandings about heaven and Christian hope that are prevalent among both Christians and non-Christians, aim to reset the focus of the discussion on what the Bible has to say about these matters. After a brief introduction, they examine in turn the ideas of Creation, Rest, Kingdom, Presence, and Glory through the lens of a Creation-Fall-Redemption-Restoration reading of Scripture. For each major idea they survey, they supply a chapter examining how how things are meant to be (Creation), how they have been distorted (Fall), how Christ’s work ushers in renewal (Redemption), and how believers may expect and hope them to turn out in the end (Restoration). In each pair of chapters, they spend the bulk of their time surveying (albeit very briefly) some of the biblical material on the topic under consideration.</p>
<p>Barber and Peterson open with a section on Creation in order to argue that central and essential to Christian hope—and too often overlooked or misunderstood—is the idea of physical resurrection. In their opening section, they trace out this idea effectively and substantively. However, though they continue to give nods to the idea of the resurrection’s importance through the remainder of the book, they largely fall prey to one of the traps they decry in their intro: they focus almost entirely on <em>spiritual</em> realities to the exclusion of <em>physical</em> realities. As a result their analysis of the ideas of rest, kingdom, and presence are all substantially impoverished in various ways, and even their (better) treatment of Glory leaves a bit to be desired. It is not that what they say is incorrect; they present the Biblical picture of those spiritual elements of future hope well and fairly compellingly (albeit a bit blandly). Rather, it is that in each case, they simply fail to address key and essential repercussions of the embodied nature of Christian hope.</p>
<p>In their discussion of rest, the authors repeatedly emphasize their view that the Christian’s hope of rest is <em>not</em> in fact physical, but rather is simply a matter of experiencing fellowship with God. They note that Christians will rest from their labors, and give a token nod to the idea that they may continuing doing something or other in the new heavens and new earth, but spend no time whatsoever considering how that informs believers’ view of vocation in the present. Though they acknowledge that labor in the Garden was good, they say little about the continuing goodness of work, and skip almost entirely over the prospect of the restoration of work to a human <em>good</em> in the coming age. Besides failing to account for the full biblical narrative, this has significant pastoral consequences. The fallen world alternately presents believers with the two dangers of resenting all work or of idolizing it. The answer to these solutions is not to look to a merely spiritual hope of rest, but rather to recognize that the shape of work must be understood in light of its creation and its promised eschatological renewal. Christians today are members of an outpost of the eschatological age in the here and now; believers are citizens of the future age, attempting to live out the realities of the age to come even as the world around remains broken and unrestored. Christians’ approach to their work, then, should reflect the inherent goodness of generative activity, the hope that their labors will produce real reward in the age to come, and a God-honoring delight in the goodness of that work. Barber and Peterson neatly lay the groundwork for this, but fail to do anything with that groundwork.</p>
<p>They similarly focus entirely on spiritualized visions of <em>kingdom</em>. While they acknowledge that the kingdom will be in the new heavens and new earth, they spend no time whatsoever on the implications of this for justice, reconciliation, or the healing of the nations—despite the fact that these are all clearly taught, and at great length, in the pages of Scripture. The consummation of God’s reign in his human agents (and specifically Jesus Christ) does have enormous spiritual implications, and Barber and Peterson’s point that Satan and his forces will be defeated and the kingdom at peace at last is well-taken. However, the Biblical pictures of the kingdom include far more than the end of deception and death; it entails the kingdoms of the world having become the kingdom of Christ, and the nations living in harmony with each other. It includes ethnic reconciliation, peace and harmony throughout the earth, the end of economic oppression, and true justice for everyone. These are not merely the concerns of this generation; they are themes that run throughout the pages of the Bible, from Jeremianic condemnations of Israelite failure to practice justice to Paul’s rebuke of ethnic divisions in the early church. No picture of the coming kingdom that misses these elements is either Biblically faithful or pastorally appropriate.</p>
<p>In addressing <em>presence</em>, Barber and Peterson once again do good preparatory work but then fail to capitalize on it. Their discussion of how God’s people originally experienced his presence nicely captures the reality that God would come and walk in the Garden of Eden: he was in some mysterious way physically present with them. However, as in the other sections, Barber and Peterson turn primarily to spiritual concerns after their introduction, and their discussion of restoration never even mentions on the reality of Christ’s everlasting incarnation. Still less does it derive from that one of the great hopes of the Christian life: that believers will <em>see</em> God. Christians will be able to converse with the incarnate Son, and his humanity will forever be paradigmatic for all other resurrected saints. The resurrected Messiah figures centrally in the New Testament and especially John’s vision; it is astounding that he should be set aside for a spiritualizing discussion that minimizes the physical reality of the new Jerusalem (even if that discussion is largely accurate in its description of the intent of the “new Jerusalem” sequence in Revelation).</p>
<p>Gladly, the authors’ treatment of <em>glory</em> does a little better, as they devote some time to the goodness and attributes of the resurrected body. Unsurprisingly, though, given the trajectory of the rest of the book, that discussion is soon set aside for a discussion about the nature of heavenly rewards (one that ultimately concludes that there are no tangible heavenly rewards whatsoever!). This seems a fitting summary of the book’s weaknesses in this area: when the authors <em>do</em> address the resurrection directly, it is largely on target—but they too rarely address the resurrection; even more rarely do they trace out its implications for future hope, and still less its impact on life in the time between the times. This failure to consider or apply the promise of physical resurrection and cosmic restoration in areas that are both Biblically significant and pastorally urgent makes the book much less valuable than it might otherwise be.</p>
Strong-Group Cultures are Broken, Too2015-05-28T17:25:00-04:002015-05-28T17:25:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-05-28:/2015/strong-group-cultures-are-broken-too.htmlJoseph D. Hellerman's The Church Was a Family has some great things to say, but he profoundly overstates the extent to which the Bible affirms "strong-group" (or indeed, any human) cultures.
<p>In <em>When the Church Was a Family</em>, Joseph D. Hellerman argues that the health of the church depends on embracing what he describes as a strong-group culture mentality. Based on insights from sociology, he maintains that the “family” language of Scripture, and especially that of the New Testament, should lead believers to embrace the same kind of cultural norms that characterized families in the ancient Mediterranean world where the Bible was written. He first explains how that strong-group culture works, contrasting it with the individualistic (or “weak-group”) culture of the west: individual desires are sublimated to those of the group, and decisions are made both within the context of the group and with the good of the group foremost. He then defends the idea that this was how the New Testament church community was structured, before turning to a general discussion of how the practice of the Western church might need to change to accommodate this kind of cultural shift. In this practical turn, Hellerman considers a number of cases studies for how this has played out in his experience, as well as the implications for leadership.</p>
<p>While Hellerman’s argument has much to recommend it on the whole, his treatment of the Bible’s relationship to strong- and weak-group cultures leaves a great deal to be desired. Granted that the Bible clearly rejects the kind of radical individualism that characterizes contemporary evangelicalism, and granted further that Hellerman rightly emphasizes the communal and familial language of the New Testament in particular, nonetheless he substantially overstates the case for “strong-group” communities, and in doing so partly undermines an otherwise strong and helpful book. Hellerman repeatedly argues that the Bible clearly and unabashedly appropriates and affirms the strong-group culture of the surrounding world. This is the thesis with which he opens the book, and he dedicates the first half of the book to defending it from the pages of Scripture and the early years of church history.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, Hellerman’s thesis cannot be sustained—at least, not as he presents it. Scripture does appropriate at times from the strong-group ideas of the surrounding culture at times, but it never does so unreservedly, and it often corrects those ideas. First, while Hellerman argues repeatedly and at great length that the dominant understanding of group identity and especially family from the surrounding culture presented patrilineal family groups as primary, and sibling identity as trumping all others, including those from marriage, God rejects that approach to the family itself from the earliest pages of Scripture. Very much <em>unlike</em> the culture Hellerman praises, with its prioritizing of blood families over a spouse, Genesis clarifies that the pattern for God’s people is that the new relationship formed in marriage takes first place (Gen. 2:24; cf. Eph. 5:31). Likewise, many of the very passages that Hellerman cites as evidence for the strength of the new community Jesus formed among his followers—and especially the most challenging passages where Jesus speaks of hating father and mother and siblings for his sake—implicitly undermine the surrounding culture’s understanding of community and systems. Hellerman rightly sees that these passages emphasized the commitment the new Christ-followers were to have to the eschatological community; he misses the inherent critique of the existing structures.</p>
<p>The same pattern plays out in Hellerman’s readings of Acts, the Epistles, and early church history. Regarding Acts, for example, he asserts:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The radical discipline Ananias and Sapphira experienced at the hand of God demonstrates that the collectivist ‘group comes first’ conviction constitutes a central principle for New Testament social ethics. To lie about this aspect of discipleship is to undermine the very foundation for the community God is building.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In reality, as the passage itself makes clear, their sin was <em>lying to the Holy Spirit</em>. The issue of communal responsibility was irrelevant—except, perhaps, insofar as it provoked them to act in a way that would garner group approval. In his treatment of the Epistles, Hellerman asserts but does not demonstrate that the writers approved of their culture’s view of family. Yes, the early Christians called each other brother and sister; no, they did not necessarily therefore affirm everything their culture meant in that. That the church constitutes a family is clear; that that family should behave in line with the honor-driven, insular fashion of the New Testament world is not. Ancient Mediterranean families would cut off those who stumbled and shamed them; the church gave succor to just those people. Similarly, he takes the consistent testimony to Christian love in the history of the early church as evidence for his theme. In fact, many of the examples he cites serve to demonstrate just how broken the surrounding strong-group cultures were, and how the church thrived by forging a <em>different</em> way. In all of this, Hellerman repeatedly fails to acknowledge how thoroughly the work of God has been a work of <em>both</em> the group and the individual. Both Old or New Testament resound with stories of personal success and failure side by side with those of God’s people. The Biblical picture is <em>both-and</em>: individuals mutually serving each other and giving themselves up for each other, but not in the process losing their individuality or the unique insight and vision God has given them.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, it is clear that Hellerman’s thesis drives his exegesis—he never even considers evidence that might right contrary to his thesis. This is too bad. Hellerman’s claim that the Western church needs a healthy dose of strong-group thinking does not stand or fall with the idea that strong-group culture is God’s preferred culture. Indeed, his argument would have been much stronger had he acknowledged the ways that God’s new culture takes the best of strong-group culture (as it does the best of weak-group culture!) and forms it into something new and better. Indeed, the Western church <em>does</em> need to retreat from its comfort in highly individualistic, weak-group cultures. American evangelicals have a great deal to learn from strong-group cultures—whether those in the pages of the New Testament, or those of many Majority World cultures. Recovery of the kinds of values Hellerman outlines, and their practical application, will indeed be necessary for thriving and healthy churches. But Hellerman’s approach fails to take seriously the ways in which <em>all</em> human cultures are broken, strong- and weak-group alike. Hellerman knows the weaknesses of weak-group cultures quite well; whether he has ever seen the failings of strong-group cultures up close seems doubtful given his lavish praise of those cultures and how little good he has to say of weak-group cultures.</p>
A Particular Way of Imagining the World2015-05-02T03:33:00-04:002015-05-02T03:33:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-05-02:/2015/a-particular-way-of-imagining-the-world.html<blockquote>
<p>Poetry, as I have been arguing throughout this study, is not just a set of techniques for saying impressively what could he said otherwise. Rather, it is a particular way of imagining the world—particular in the double sense that poetry as such has its own logic, its own ways …</p></blockquote><blockquote>
<p>Poetry, as I have been arguing throughout this study, is not just a set of techniques for saying impressively what could he said otherwise. Rather, it is a particular way of imagining the world—particular in the double sense that poetry as such has its own logic, its own ways of making connections and engendering implications, and because each system of poetry has certain distinctive semantic thrusts that follow the momentum of its formal dispositions and habits of expression.</p>
</blockquote>
A Paradigmatic Instance of Treachery2015-05-02T03:20:00-04:002015-05-02T03:20:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-05-02:/2015/a-paradigmatic-instance-of-treachery.html<blockquote>
<p>What I would like to suggest about the effect of the language of poetry in this [Isa. 1:2–9] and most other Biblical prophecies is that it tends to lift the utterances to a second power of signification, aligning statements that are addressed to a concrete historical situation with …</p></blockquote><blockquote>
<p>What I would like to suggest about the effect of the language of poetry in this [Isa. 1:2–9] and most other Biblical prophecies is that it tends to lift the utterances to a second power of signification, aligning statements that are addressed to a concrete historical situation with an archetypal horizon. The Judean contemporaries of Isaiah the son of Amoz become the archetypes Sodom and Gomorrah in respect to both their collective destiny and their moral character. If one considers, as the metaphors of the poem require one to consider, how God has treated them as beloved sons, then their exploitation of the poor and the helpless in their midst (1:23 and elsewhere), in flagrant violation of God’s commands, becomes a paradigmatic instance of treachery, of man’s… capacity for self-destructive perverseness. In this fashion, a set of messages framed for a particular audience of the eighth century B.C.E. Is not just the transcription of a historical document but continues to speak age after age, inviting members of otherwise very different audiences to read themselves into the text.</p>
</blockquote>
Why Should a Man Complain?2015-04-27T13:00:00-04:002015-04-27T13:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-04-27:/2015/why-should-a-man-complain.htmlAn open-ended, multi-vocal answer to a rhetorical question—demonstrated by a close analysis of the structure, verbs, and poetic devices employed by the poet.<section id="authors-translation" class="level1">
<h1>Author’s Translation</h1>
<section id="nun-נ" class="level2">
<h2><em>Nun</em> נ</h2>
<ol start="40" type="1">
<li>Let us search out our ways and examine them thoroughly and let us return to Yahweh.</li>
<li>Let us lift our hearts with our hands to God in heaven.</li>
<li>"We have transgressed and rebelled—you have not forgiven!</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="samech-ס" class="level2">
<h2><em>Samech</em> ס</h2>
<ol start="43" type="1">
<li>"You have shrouded yourself with anger, and you have pursued us; you have slain; you have not spared!</li>
<li>"You have shrouded yourself in a cloud so no prayer can pass through.</li>
<li>"You have made us refuse and waste in the midst of the peoples.</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="pe-פ" class="level2">
<h2><em>Pe</em> פ</h2>
<ol start="46" type="1">
<li>"They have opened their mouths against us—all who are our enemies.</li>
<li>“Dread and death have come to us—devastation and ruination.”</li>
<li>Channels of water run down from my eyes because of the ruination of the daughter of my people.</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="ayin-ע" class="level2">
<h2><em>Ayin</em> ע</h2>
<ol start="49" type="1">
<li>My eyes flow and do not cease; my eyes without respite,</li>
<li>Until he looks down and sees: Yahweh from heaven.</li>
<li>My eyes grieve my soul—from the state of all the daughters of my city.</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="tsade-צ" class="level2">
<h2><em>Tsade</em> צ</h2>
<ol start="52" type="1">
<li>Surely they hunted me like a bird—those who hated me for no reason.</li>
<li>They put an end to my life—in the pit!—and they cast stones at me.</li>
<li>Waters flowed over my head; I said, “I am destroyed.”</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="qof-ק" class="level2">
<h2><em>Qof</em> ק</h2>
<ol start="55" type="1">
<li>I cried out your name, oh Yahweh, from the deepest pit.</li>
<li>My voice you heard; you did not cover your ears to my relief—to my cry for help.</li>
<li>You came on the day I cried out to you; you said, “Do not be afraid!”</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="resh-ר" class="level2">
<h2><em>Resh</em> ר</h2>
<ol start="58" type="1">
<li>You strove, Lord—strove even for my soul; you redeemed my life.</li>
<li>You see, oh Yahweh, the injustice done to me; judge my case!</li>
<li>You saw all their vengeance, all their conniving against me.</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="sinshin-ש" class="level2">
<h2><em>Sin/Shin</em> ש</h2>
<ol start="61" type="1">
<li>You heard their reproach, oh Yahweh, all their conniving against me:</li>
<li>The speech of those who rise against me, and their plots against me every day.</li>
<li>Look at their sitting down and their rising up: I am their mockery-song.</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="tav-ת" class="level2">
<h2><em>Tav</em> ת</h2>
<ol start="64" type="1">
<li>Bring back against them their due, oh Yahweh, according to the work of their hands.</li>
<li>Give them obstinate hearts; your curse be against them.</li>
<li>You pursue in anger, and you destroy them from beneath Yahweh’s heavens.</li>
</ol>
<hr />
</section>
</section>
<section id="introduction" class="level1">
<h1>Introduction</h1>
<p>This essay will demonstrate that the concluding section of Lamentations 3, running from v. 40 to v. 66, constitutes an open-ended, multivocal answer to the question posed in Lamentations 3:39: “Why should a person complain, / a living man concerning his sins?” The poet did not believe Yahweh demanded silence of his people, even in the face of his judgment. Rather, his people were to trust him deeply enough to call out to him, even when all evidence suggested he would not answer. The point will be demonstrated by a close analysis of the structure, verbs, and poetic devices employed throughout the text.</p>
<section id="outline" class="level2">
<h2>Outline</h2>
<ol type="I">
<li><a href="#we-repent-but-god-has-not-forgiven-us-4051">We repent but God has not forgiven us (40–51)</a>
<ol type="1">
<li><a href="#let-us-repent-4042a">Let us repent! (40–42a)</a></li>
<li><a href="#god-is-still-hidden-42b44">God is still hidden (42b–44)</a></li>
<li><a href="#we-are-devastated-by-our-enemies-4547">We are devastated by our enemies (45–47)</a></li>
<li><a href="#sight-and-salvation-4851">Sight and salvation (48–51)</a></li>
</ol></li>
<li><a href="#deliver-me-from-my-enemies-5266">Deliver Me From My Enemies! (52–66)</a>
<ol type="1">
<li><a href="#my-enemies!-despair-and-pleading-5255">My enemies! Despair and pleading (52–55)</a></li>
<li><a href="#yahweh-hearsmay-yahweh-hear-5658">Yahweh hears/May Yahweh hear (56–58)</a></li>
<li><a href="#may-yahweh-judge-the-enemies-5966">May Yahweh judge the enemies (59–66)</a></li>
</ol></li>
</ol>
</section>
<section id="authorship" class="level2">
<h2>Authorship</h2>
<p>Lamentations has traditionally been attributed to Jeremiah, but the poems themselves make no claim to authorship whatsoever.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Jeremianic authorship is possible, and a few commentators continue to argue for it as a reasonable assumption.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> However, while there are commonalities in style and vocabulary between the books of Jeremiah and Lamentations,<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> and no outright contradictions between the two books,<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> there are also significant differences between them. Jeremiah predicted the destruction of the city and the temple while the author of Lamentations seems surprised by it, and Jeremiah strongly emphasizes the sins of the people while the author of Lamentations hardly mentions them.<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a> These differences in perspective might be the result of the prophet’s experience of the fall of Jerusalem as opposed to merely the anticipation thereof, but more likely whoever composed the book “was familiar with the book of Jeremiah, but had his own vocabulary to express grief over the fall of Jerusalem.”<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a></p>
<p>Some commentators argue not only against Jeremianic authorship but for multiple authorship.<a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> Such a reading is hardly required, however. The suggestion that variation in perspective or even poetic style can <em>only</em> be explained by multiple authorship badly underestimates the range of human artistry.<a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a> Poetic voice is not the same as <em>authorial</em> voice;<a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a> the multiple voices which appear throughout the book are “poetic vehicles through which the poet speaks throughout”<a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a> rather than multiple authors arguing for differing theologies. Even if Lamentations is the product of multiple poets, the poems ultimately represent continuity of thought and theology, both individually and collectively.<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a> Together, they present a multivocal but coherent expression of grief in the face of horrific tragedy.</p>
</section>
<section id="context" class="level2">
<h2>Context</h2>
<section id="geographical-and-cultural" class="level3">
<h3>Geographical and Cultural</h3>
<p>Lamentations was composed in response to the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem and its temple and the deportation of Judean leadership in 595–587 B.C. However, it is not clear how long after the fall of Jerusalem the poems were composed, nor whether they were composed simultaneously or with some gaps between them. The book was probably composed prior to the rebuilding of the temple in 515 B.C., since the text includes no hint of such a hopeful turn of events,<a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a> but the author’s imaginative and lyrical skill count for more than his proximity to the events he describes.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a> In any case, the date of composition is largely irrelevant to the interpretation of the text.<a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a></p>
<p>Like the rest of the Hebrew Bible, Lamentations adopts from but freely adapts genres from the surrounding cultures. Accordingly, it includes elements of Ancient Near East city laments, communal laments, and communal dirges.<a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a> Records of city laments in the greater Mesopotamian region date to the beginning of the second millennium B.C., and the author of Lamentations joined various prophetic writers in the Old Testament in repurposing the form for his theological purposes.<a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a> Whereas most city-laments appear to have been created for rededications of temples and thus include the imagery of a god’s return to the temple, Yahweh is conspicuously absent and his temple in ruins throughout Lamentations.<a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a> Moreover, the theology of Lamentations differs significantly from the city-laments. Though the poet gives full voice to doubt and anger towards Yahweh throughout the book, he ultimately places moral responsibility not on Yahweh but on the sinning people of Jerusalem, very much unlike the anti-theodic bent of other city laments.<a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a> The text mingles “penitence <em>and</em> protest, confession <em>and</em> lament.”<a href="#fn19" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref19" role="doc-noteref"><sup>19</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="literary" class="level3">
<h3>Literary</h3>
<p>The book consists of five poems, each sharing the same basic acrostic structure. Chapters 1, 2, and 4 each have twenty-two multi-line verses, each beginning with a consecutive letter of the Hebrew alphabet.<a href="#fn20" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref20" role="doc-noteref"><sup>20</sup></a> Chapter 3 changes the pattern, devoting three single-line verses to each letter. Finally, chapter 5 consists of another twenty-two verses of poetry, but does not include the acrostic lettering scheme. The acrostics draw the reader forward through the text<a href="#fn21" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref21" role="doc-noteref"><sup>21</sup></a> and express a sense of completion at their conclusion: grief has been fully sounded and emotional and theological catharsis experienced.<a href="#fn22" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref22" role="doc-noteref"><sup>22</sup></a> The poet <em>imposes</em> order on a world in chaos by choosing to “express the inexpressible… [in poems] whose controlling structural device is the very letters that signify and give shape to language.”<a href="#fn23" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref23" role="doc-noteref"><sup>23</sup></a> Moreover, the repetition of letters, as of words and ideas throughout the poem, “introduces the indispensable element of <em>time</em>: reflection and re-reflection on the meaning of the aesthetic message.”<a href="#fn24" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref24" role="doc-noteref"><sup>24</sup></a> At the same time, the frequent use of enjambment both works with the acrostic to propel the reader forward through the text<a href="#fn25" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref25" role="doc-noteref"><sup>25</sup></a> and undermines the poetry’s regularity, allowing the poet to control the pace of the poem “without relying on emplottment [sic] or even strong characterization.”<a href="#fn26" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref26" role="doc-noteref"><sup>26</sup></a> These large-scale poetic devices together shape not only the structure but also the message of the poetry: lines give different senses when read alone than when read in their acrostic strophe, and different again when read in the full sequence.<a href="#fn27" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref27" role="doc-noteref"><sup>27</sup></a> They ultimately “draw the reader into a variety of responses… [not] one particular response.”<a href="#fn28" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref28" role="doc-noteref"><sup>28</sup></a></p>
<p>Lamentations 3 is the theological and poetic center of the book.<a href="#fn29" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref29" role="doc-noteref"><sup>29</sup></a> Although some modern commentators hesitate to affirm the centrality of the chapter because of a tendency to downplay the lament elsewhere in the book,<a href="#fn30" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref30" role="doc-noteref"><sup>30</sup></a> there are good reasons to take this view. Structurally, the center is often important to Hebrew poetry, and while that importance can be overstated, the placement of the poem here should not be ignored—especially when its poetry and content differ from the others in such a notable way.<a href="#fn31" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref31" role="doc-noteref"><sup>31</sup></a> The increased repetition heightens the effect and draws attention to the content of the poetry.<a href="#fn32" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref32" role="doc-noteref"><sup>32</sup></a> The shorter lines are visually and aurally arresting. The chapter includes theodic content and, at times, a hopeful tone—kinds of content absent in the rest of the poems. It is also the only poem in which words are attributed to Yahweh.<a href="#fn33" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref33" role="doc-noteref"><sup>33</sup></a> The literary and theological emphasis the poet placed on this chapter is not a reason to ignore the message of the other chapters, but neither should it be ignored in interpreting them.</p>
<p>The chapter has three major sections, though commentators divide them in slightly different ways; the exegesis below analysis assumes the following division. In the first section (vv. 1–18), “the man who has seen affliction” (3:1) laments his individual suffering at God’s hands. The second section (vv. 19–39) emphasizes Yahweh’s covenant love, trustworthy character, and hatred of injustice; it is the most hopeful and theodic passage in the book. In the third section (vv. 40–66), the speaker responds to the theodic ideas outlined in the second with a complex mix of complaint, lament, hope, and imprecation. This concluding turn has led some commentators to suggest the speaker ultimately could not believe the ethical/theodic message,<a href="#fn34" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref34" role="doc-noteref"><sup>34</sup></a> or that he was angrily determined to “speak in the face of Yahweh’s silence;”<a href="#fn35" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref35" role="doc-noteref"><sup>35</sup></a> it has led others to suggest competing authors (see above). But “[the] speaker is not schizophrenic.”<a href="#fn36" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref36" role="doc-noteref"><sup>36</sup></a> The same person may simultaneously recognize his own sinful responsibility, trust God, and yet remain long for deliverance from and be troubled by his suffering.<a href="#fn37" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref37" role="doc-noteref"><sup>37</sup></a> Though all of these themes appear scattered throughout the book, Lamentations 3 alone draws them together in a single poem.</p>
<p>The final section begins in v. 40. Although there are later topical and vocal shifts (especially in v. 42; see below), none are as strong as the one leading the נ-strophe, which is doubly marked. The speaker shifts from general statements about Yahweh to exhortation of the listening community precisely at the transition from the מ-strophe to the נ-strophe. Indeed, given the enjambment across strophe boundaries typical of the final section of the poem,<a href="#fn38" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref38" role="doc-noteref"><sup>38</sup></a> the alignment here clearly indicates a major transition in the poem.</p>
</section>
</section>
</section>
<section id="exegesis" class="level1">
<h1>Exegesis</h1>
<section id="we-repent-but-god-has-not-forgiven-us-4051" class="level2">
<h2>We Repent but God Has Not Forgiven Us (40–51)</h2>
<p>The speaker has finished his discourse on who Yahweh is and how he acts; now it is time to respond. In light of the preceding declaration of Yahweh’s covenant love and justice, and its “emphasis on confession and penitence”<a href="#fn39" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref39" role="doc-noteref"><sup>39</sup></a> the speaker urges his people to turn and repent. He turns almost immediately to a lengthy lament, however: God has not forgiven. Indeed, the divine warrior has struck down his own people.<a href="#fn40" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref40" role="doc-noteref"><sup>40</sup></a> Things seems hopeless.</p>
<section id="let-us-repent-4042a" class="level3">
<h3>Let us repent! (40–42a)</h3>
<p>If Yahweh’s covenant love may be trusted and he judges rightly, and if his people have sinned, they ought to repent. The speaker employs the language of (especially Jeremianic) prophetic exhortation, calling the people to search out and examine their ways and return to Yahweh.<a href="#fn41" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref41" role="doc-noteref"><sup>41</sup></a> Unlike in Jeremiah, though, the speaker includes himself in the call to repentance. The opening verbs of the section are not imperatives but cohortatives (נַחְפְּשָׂ֤ה, נַחְקֹ֔רָה, נָשׁ֖וּבָה). The speaker thus affirms that his and his people’s sin has led to their current condition; they must repent. The imperfect that follows (נִשָּׂ֤א) picks up the force of the preceding cohortatives and continues the exhortation. The language of “hearts with hands” reminds the reader that the repentance required is an act of the whole person: neither merely internal nor merely external.<a href="#fn42" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref42" role="doc-noteref"><sup>42</sup></a> The reference to “God in heaven” does double duty: it marks his authority to forgive, but it also suggests his absence from Zion.</p>
</section>
<section id="god-is-still-hidden-42b44" class="level3">
<h3>God is still hidden (42b–44)</h3>
<p>In the following verses, the author begins by confessing sin, then addresses Yahweh, who has not forgiven his people, and who has instead opposed them and hidden himself from their prayers. Israel’s divine warrior-God has now become her enemy.<a href="#fn43" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref43" role="doc-noteref"><sup>43</sup></a> The God whose presence with his people was so often manifest as a cloud<a href="#fn44" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref44" role="doc-noteref"><sup>44</sup></a> has now removed his presence from them with a cloud.<a href="#fn45" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref45" role="doc-noteref"><sup>45</sup></a> The people may confess, but unless Yahweh hears their prayers and answers them, they will remain destitute and hopeless.<a href="#fn46" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref46" role="doc-noteref"><sup>46</sup></a> In light of the speaker’s confession and the hope expressed in the preceding major section, that Yahweh has not forgiven comes as a surprise, and one intensified dramatically by the poetry.</p>
<p>In fact, the poetry here is enjambed twice, making it one of the more prominent of the many instances of the poetic device throughout this section of the poem.<a href="#fn47" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref47" role="doc-noteref"><sup>47</sup></a> First, the poet introduces the address to Yahweh at the end of the נ-strophe instead of at beginning of the ס-strophe. Second, the poet splits the line itself. The first verset continues the thought of the preceding two lines: the people’s repentance before God, in the form of confession: “we have transgressed and rebelled.” The second verset indicates God’s response: “—you have not forgiven!” There is no transition, not even a disjunctive-ו to mark the shift—just a terse pair of statements. Indeed, the effect is so jarring, especially as it leads into the next strophe, that it is tempting to read the entire rest of the poem as accusation against and anger against God.<a href="#fn48" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref48" role="doc-noteref"><sup>48</sup></a> Understandable as this reading is—especially as a backlash against the inappropriate suppression of lament among Christians—it is mistaken, as will become clear.<a href="#fn49" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref49" role="doc-noteref"><sup>49</sup></a> The speaker <em>does</em> complain here and in what follows, but that is not all he does.</p>
<p>Because of the tonal shift between v. 42a and v. 42b, it is possible to read this as the break between the second and third major sections of the book. As noted above, the major discourse boundary is between vv. 39 and 40 instead, where the speaker transitions from exposition to response. There <em>is</em> a segue here, as the speaker turns his attention from his community to Yahweh, and begins a speech section that runs through v. 47, but this transition is within rather than between sections—from one kind of response to another.</p>
</section>
<section id="we-are-devastated-by-our-enemies-4547" class="level3">
<h3>We are devastated by our enemies (45–47)</h3>
<p>Once again, the poet employs enjambment to drive the reader into the speaker’s experience of suffering. The transition between the ס- and פ-strophes occurs in v. 46, but already in v. 45 the speaker returns to a theme expressed in the beginning of the chapter as well as in the preceding poems: enemies attacking the people of God. Not only is Yahweh absent from Zion, but he has made her like refuse and waste<a href="#fn50" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref50" role="doc-noteref"><sup>50</sup></a> in the midst of the peoples. The tribes he had chosen to be a blessing to the nations (Gen. 12:3; 18:17–19) and set apart as a kingdom of priests (Exod. 19:6; Deut. 17:18) were defilement—things to be thrown out of the camp (cf. Exod. 29:14). Moreover, rather than delivering from enemies, God has brought them against his people.<a href="#fn51" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref51" role="doc-noteref"><sup>51</sup></a> They have “opened their mouths” against God’s people, an image used in the Wisdom literature both of speaking against someone and of devouring them (Job 29:23; Ps. 5:9; 22:13; 35:21). The climax of the quotation comes in verse 47, a chiasm on two pairs of words which rhyme almost completely.<a href="#fn52" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref52" role="doc-noteref"><sup>52</sup></a> “Dread and death, devastation and ruination”—this is what Yahweh has accomplished in bringing these enemies against his people.</p>
<p>This judgment may not have been unexpected—everything that happened to Jerusalem was expressly the result of a covenant curse—but the circumstances were no less horrific for that. That the judgment was deserved did not lessen the urgency of the speaker’s cry for relief.<a href="#fn53" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref53" role="doc-noteref"><sup>53</sup></a> The speaker’s complaint raises the poem’s tension by pitting this lament against the theodic material which precedes it.<a href="#fn54" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref54" role="doc-noteref"><sup>54</sup></a> The speaker may not be shaking his fist at the heavens, but he is certainly complaining loudly and questioning insistently. If Yahweh is loving, faithful, and just, is this judgment not too harsh? At this point, the ethical vision expressed in vv. 19–39 seems lost. Indeed, Miriam Bier and F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp both suggest that the poet <em>wants</em> to embrace the ethical vision, but that this and the section following demonstrate his inability to do so.<a href="#fn55" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref55" role="doc-noteref"><sup>55</sup></a> Were this the final note of the poem, this analysis would be basically correct. It is not, but things get worse before they get better.</p>
</section>
<section id="sight-and-salvation-4851" class="level3">
<h3>Sight and salvation (48–51)</h3>
<p>The speaker echoes the end of v. 47 at the end of v. 48, tying the two together, but shifts in person (from “we” to “I”).<a href="#fn56" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref56" role="doc-noteref"><sup>56</sup></a> The identity of the speaker shifts slightly as a result: he spoke first for himself alone, then exhorted his community, and now stands in solidarity with the community of Zion.<a href="#fn57" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref57" role="doc-noteref"><sup>57</sup></a> The poet connects these verses, from the last line of the פ-strophe through the whole ע-strophe, with the idea of eyes and sight. The poet’s eyes pour out channels of water and flow without ceasing or respite, until Yahweh looks and sees. The poet and his people desperately need Yahweh’s deliverance—and Yahweh remains enthroned in heaven. The poet carefully reiterates the idea suggested in the נ-strophe, delaying the subject of v. 50 to the second half of the line to match the structure of v. 41. The inclusio emphasizes both Yahweh’s sovereignty and his distance from his people.</p>
<p>Until Yahweh sees—until he stops shrouding himself from his people’s prayers and hears their cries as he did in Exodus 1—the poet’s eyes continue to torment him because of the sad state of the women of the city (v. 51). The final line is curiously expressive: the speaker’s eyes are harsh to his soul—a phrase that has been taken to mean that his eyes literally ache from his crying and that the things he sees torment him.<a href="#fn58" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref58" role="doc-noteref"><sup>58</sup></a> In fact, the terse language suggests both: in the immediate context, the speaker’s weeping wears him out; more broadly, soul-distressing suffering is nearly omnipresent in these poems. Although he clearly hopes for change, he is no longer addressing Yahweh as of v. 48. He simply states how things are and will remain until God acts: these horrors demand grief. And perhaps Yahweh will hear these tears, even if he seems to have heard nothing else (though nothing in the context or language here suggests these tears are meant to <em>manipulate</em> God into responding).<a href="#fn59" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref59" role="doc-noteref"><sup>59</sup></a> The section closes without any such response, though; all hope seems lost.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="deliver-me-from-my-enemies-5266" class="level2">
<h2>Deliver me from my enemies! (52–66)</h2>
<p>The concluding section is like an individual psalm of lament.<a href="#fn60" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref60" role="doc-noteref"><sup>60</sup></a> It continues the shift begun in v. 19. The chapter (as well as the book) opens with the image of God as a divine warrior fighting against his people, but it concludes with a plea for God to act in line with his character.<a href="#fn61" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref61" role="doc-noteref"><sup>61</sup></a> The speaker hopes that Yahweh will restore his people to covenant unity with him and defend them from their enemies, but refuses to collapse the tension between hope and lament that characterizes the whole poem.</p>
<section id="excursus-verb-tense-and-meaning-in-poetry" class="level3">
<h3>Excursus: Verb Tense and Meaning in Poetry</h3>
<p>The verb tense throughout the final section of the poem is a subject of much debate. Commentators differ especially on how to take the mix of perfects and imperfects in vv. 56–58, but significant differences appear beginning as early as v. 52. Some take the verbs to be a mix of past statement and present need or imperative,<a href="#fn62" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref62" role="doc-noteref"><sup>62</sup></a> but this does not account for the ongoing nature of the speaker’s distress (as indicated by the imperatives in the following section).<a href="#fn63" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref63" role="doc-noteref"><sup>63</sup></a> Others read both the perfects and imperfects as a series of present-tense declarations of faith.<a href="#fn64" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref64" role="doc-noteref"><sup>64</sup></a> This view rightly captures the sense of present distress, but does not account for the perfect-imperfect alternation and has no basis for distinguishing between these “present-tense” perfects and the ordinary past-tense perfects that precede them. Thus, some suggest that the perfects carry a precative sense, with the imperfects then naturally reading as more imperatives.<a href="#fn65" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref65" role="doc-noteref"><sup>65</sup></a> In addition to being an unusual and debated syntactical stance, however, this also fails to answer why the poet did not use simple imperatives (as in vv. 59, 63). Even if these verbs simply represent the poet shifting to the perfect-imperfect alternation common to poetry,<a href="#fn66" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref66" role="doc-noteref"><sup>66</sup></a> this is the only place in the entire final section of the poem where the pattern appears. At the least, it marks the sequence by distinction with the surrounding verses. Thus, none of the proposals satisfactorily account for all the features of the text, though perfect-as-precative is not unreasonable.</p>
<p>It is possible, of course, that this ambiguity is a function only of modern scholars’ relative ignorance of the language—that native speakers readily took in the meaning of the poetry when Lamentations was written. It is equally plausible, however, that the poet <em>intended</em> the meaning to remain elusive. This is one of the functions of poetry: to push the boundaries of what language can express and thereby convey feeling and sense beyond the merely literal. The poet in Lamentations employs a wide array of tools to this end in this final section of the poem, including structure (the acrostic), enjambment, rhythm, rhyme and assonance, ellipsis, and allusion. Perhaps the poet wanted audience to wonder: has Yahweh delivered already, spoken already, judged the enemies already—or is the speaker still waiting for Yahweh to hear his prayers? In the world of faith, the answer may be <em>both</em>: the believer may be fully confident that Yahweh’s answer is assured, and still feel no less keenly the fact that experience does not yet bear out that answer. The text is open; it not only allows for but actively invites both readings.<a href="#fn67" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref67" role="doc-noteref"><sup>67</sup></a> “[Both] past and future signify the ongoing present. The suffering in Lamentations is timeless, and the expression of timelessness seems to have been one of the poet’s goals.”<a href="#fn68" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref68" role="doc-noteref"><sup>68</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="my-enemies-despair-and-pleading-5255" class="level3">
<h3>My enemies! Despair and pleading (52–55)</h3>
<p>The צ-strophe opens with a stereotyped image of the beleaguered servant of God: the person hunted like a bird (cf. Prov. 6:5; Pss. 11:1, 124:7, 140:5) by those who hated him for no reason (cf. 1 Sam. 19:15, 25:31; Ps. 35:7, 69:5). The strophe continues with a description of the enemies’ depredations. The circuitous language (literally, they put an end to his life, with the action occurring in a pit) conveys the idea of people seeking to end his life by throwing him into a pit and hurling stones at him (cf. Pss. 18:41, 73:27, 94:23).<a href="#fn69" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref69" role="doc-noteref"><sup>69</sup></a> The image is not a dry pit like the ones Joseph and Jeremiah were thrown into (Gen. 38:24; Jer. 38:6). Instead, water went up over the speaker’s head (cf. Ps: 69:1–2). Besides being yet more stock lament imagery,<a href="#fn70" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref70" role="doc-noteref"><sup>70</sup></a> the water language connects this sequence back to the preceding one, even as the focus has changed. So likewise with the “pit” language, whose implied metaphorical use as a substitute for death or the grave<a href="#fn71" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref71" role="doc-noteref"><sup>71</sup></a> is heightened by proximity to v. 47, where it is used precisely that way. The poetry is also enjambed again much as it was at the end of the נ-strophe. The first half of the line in v. 54 continues the complaint theme of the preceding verses, but the latter half begins a recitation of speech to and interaction with Yahweh. The poet carries this theme further as he begins the ק-strophe (v. 55) with the speaker’s having cried out Yahweh’s name from the “deepest pit,” a phrase suggestive of Sheol.<a href="#fn72" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref72" role="doc-noteref"><sup>72</sup></a></p>
<p>Nothing about these verses is particularly striking or unusual next to other laments in the Old Testament, and this is in its own way significant. The speaker has made a small but meaningful change in his language and tone: Yahweh is no longer the enemy but instead the one who might deliver <em>from</em> the enemies.<a href="#fn73" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref73" role="doc-noteref"><sup>73</sup></a> The turn to traditional, even stereotyped, language of lament and petition signals the speaker’s self-conscious identification with Israel’s history of trusting Yahweh for deliverance. This does not mark the resolution of the trial, but it does undercut the idea that the end of the poem is unrelentingly pessimistic—especially when coupled with the verses that follow.</p>
</section>
<section id="yahweh-hearsmay-yahweh-hear-5658" class="level3">
<h3>Yahweh hears/May Yahweh hear (56–58)</h3>
<p>The next sequence (continuing the ק-strophe and running into the first line of the ר-strophe) is a striking sequence and is key to understanding the poet’s intent in the final section of the poem. The speaker proclaims Yahweh’s response to his call for help from the edge of death. Per the discussion above, this section is best read as holding together the tensions of past-and-future, actual-and-desired: “you heard my voice” and “hear my voice” (v. 56); “you came on the day I called” and “come on the day I call,” “you said to me” and “say to me” (v. 57); “you strove for my life” and “strive for my life” (v. 58). This is the climax of the final section, the place where the poet’s pleas climax and, more significantly, the only place in the entire book where Yahweh speaks. The words the poet attributes to Yahweh are simple—אַל־תִּירָֽא, “do not fear”—but pack depths into their brief syllables. For the canonically attentive reader, these words immediately call to mind all the places Yahweh tells his people not to fear, and where he inevitably promised his presence and his aid to his people against their enemies.<a href="#fn74" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref74" role="doc-noteref"><sup>74</sup></a> Yet the poet elides the second part.</p>
<p>It is impossible to take the poet’s intended sense without paying attention to “the way in which the sequence as a whole coheres and interacts, and even to how the poet articulates theological interests.”<a href="#fn75" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref75" role="doc-noteref"><sup>75</sup></a> This allusion grounds the final segment of the poem in a measure of hope. At the same time, by leaving the promise of Yahweh’s presence merely an allusion, rather than stating it straight out, the poet carefully sustains the tension between <em>already</em> and <em>not-yet</em> that drives the conclusion of the poem. Turn the phrases one way, and the speaker is pleading for God to comfort his people by making his presence known; turn them the other and the speaker is proclaiming that this is precisely what God has already done. Both perspectives affirm the community’s need for deliverance and for Yahweh’s presence to return; but the poetry hangs between the two, unresolved. The poet has left both readings possible, perhaps even necessary. Complaint remains,<a href="#fn76" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref76" role="doc-noteref"><sup>76</sup></a> yet Israel’s hope that Yahweh was and would be with them remains, too.<a href="#fn77" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref77" role="doc-noteref"><sup>77</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="may-yahweh-judge-the-enemies-5966" class="level3">
<h3>May Yahweh judge the enemies (59–66)</h3>
<p>The poem concludes with the resumption of the speaker’s complaint about the enemies, followed by an imprecatory prayer against them; both the complaint and the imprecation echo the imprecatory psalms.<a href="#fn78" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref78" role="doc-noteref"><sup>78</sup></a> The only two imperatives proper in vv. 40–66 appear here: the speaker pleads with God to judge his case (v. 59) and to observe his enemies’ actions (v. 63). In the complaint, which takes up the final line of the ר-strophe and the entire ש-strophe, he lists out his enemies’ offenses. They sought (unwarranted) vengeance on, connived against, reproached, rose up against, slandered, plotted against, and made a mockery of him (cf. 14:16–17, 23:7).<a href="#fn79" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref79" role="doc-noteref"><sup>79</sup></a> The lines are terse and elliptical, with verbs few and far between; the result reads like a list of charges in a court case, crying out for a verdict.<a href="#fn80" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref80" role="doc-noteref"><sup>80</sup></a></p>
<p>The imprecatory prayer comprises the ת-strophe, where a series of imperfects take up an imperatival force. The only unusual item in the list is the phrase translated “obstinate hearts,” מְגִנַּת, a hapax which appears only here and may be derived from מָגֵן, “shield.” Literally, the speaker asks for Yahweh to give them something like “covering-of-heart”—the idea seems to be hard-heartedness (thus “obstinate”)—so that the enemies will receive the judgment they are due (cf. Exo. 7:3,13).<a href="#fn81" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref81" role="doc-noteref"><sup>81</sup></a> These imprecations are not merely selfish requests for personal vengeance. Rather, they are a plea for Yahweh to execute divine justice, in line with his character as speaker described it in the middle section of the poem.<a href="#fn82" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref82" role="doc-noteref"><sup>82</sup></a> It is not that the poet thinks that his proclamation of faith resolved everything. Instead, echoing both the Psalms and Jeremiah,<a href="#fn83" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref83" role="doc-noteref"><sup>83</sup></a> the speaker implores Yahweh for deliverance, confident that God <em>can</em> help but desperately needing that ability to become action.<a href="#fn84" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref84" role="doc-noteref"><sup>84</sup></a></p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>The poem ends on an unresolved note, unlike most of the psalms of imprecation or lament (notable exceptions including Pss. 44, 60).<a href="#fn85" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref85" role="doc-noteref"><sup>85</sup></a> But this is appropriate to the poet’s aims. He presents not a cheery resolve to act as though everything is better in light of the ethical and theodic vision presented in vv. 19–39, but rather an attempt to apply that vision when circumstances remain unchanged.<a href="#fn86" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref86" role="doc-noteref"><sup>86</sup></a> The result is closure, but not resolution. The acrostic is complete, and the speaker’s grief has been expiated to a degree—but until things are right again, pleading and lament remain. Yahweh may be good and his judgments righteous, but that does not require his people’s silence when he punishes them. To the contrary, it allows them to express their grief and anger in the hope of a merciful and gracious response from their covenant God.</p>
<p>This reading makes sense of the shape of the poem as a whole. Because of the brighter notes sounded in vv. 19–39, a few commentators take this poem as ending positively.<a href="#fn87" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref87" role="doc-noteref"><sup>87</sup></a> Others take the final 26 verses as a negative response to the (apparently) rhetorical questions posed in vv. 36–39.<a href="#fn88" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref88" role="doc-noteref"><sup>88</sup></a> Neither of these readings does justice to the tension of the poetry. Instead, the poet has played the enjambment card again, at a yet larger level. The final (originally rhetorical) question of the middle section actually received an answer: Why should a man complain about the punishment of his sins? Because even when the judgment was deserved, Yahweh may yet answer, silence the enemy, and draw near to his people. In one sense, he already has; in another, his people are still waiting—and the poet leaves it at that.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="application" class="level1">
<h1>Application</h1>
<p>In recent decades, scholars have applied Lamentations to everything from Freudian grief models<a href="#fn89" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref89" role="doc-noteref"><sup>89</sup></a> to massive national tragedies.<a href="#fn90" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref90" role="doc-noteref"><sup>90</sup></a> The Freudian model of grief has some serious deficiencies—but applications of Lamentations 3 in that context do help people both to articulate their grief and to respond to loss.<a href="#fn91" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref91" role="doc-noteref"><sup>91</sup></a> Application to national tragedies is even more appropriate. The 20th and 21st centuries have seen horrific loss of life; even in largely untouched America, community has disintegrated over the same period. Thus, “the unrelenting relevance of this poetry cries out to be heard and understood.”<a href="#fn92" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref92" role="doc-noteref"><sup>92</sup></a> Reading Lamentations more frequently and deeply will help Western Christians understand the trials of fellow believers enduring persecution for the name of Christ. It will also provide a framework for sympathizing with peoples around the world facing ethnic cleansing or other such horrors.</p>
<p>These realities are painful, but they are realities nonetheless. With some of the Psalms, Lamentations addresses human suffering head-on as few other places in Scripture do, pointing the way to a deep, rich, honest, and trusting response to tragedy. The concluding section of chapter 3 is particularly helpful: God sometimes delays his deliverance; repentance does not always lead immediately to restoration; and the enemies of God’s people go on harassing them far longer than seems right. In those moments, people and their pastors have a model to follow: crying out to God as long as his answer remains <em>already-but-not-yet</em>. Believers ought to spend time reading, meditating on, and praying through these words. Pastors should acquaint themselves with the book deeply so they can minister to their congregants facing trials, and they should preach on it more often to equip their congregations for those trials.</p>
<p>Lamentations 3:40–66 represents an invitation to cry out to God even in the midst of judgment—to believe that he may yet hear. In their hesitation to voice this kind of lament at in the face of life’s travails, many Christians reveal that they do not know their God as well as they ought. “The suffering is, as it were, an affirmation that God is still there and still concerned with the fate of Israel. He may hide his face, but he has not ceased to be Israel’s God.”<a href="#fn93" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref93" role="doc-noteref"><sup>93</sup></a> If even God’s judgment on Israel was a painful picture of his faithfulness, how much more when he has shared our griefs, borne our sufferings in his own flesh, and been judged to the point of crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” And so he remains open to his people’s cries—for, until suffering ends, lament remains.</p>
<hr />
</section>
<section id="works-cited" class="level1">
<h1>Works Cited</h1>
<ul>
<li><p>Bier, Miriam. “‘We have sinned and rebelled; you have not forgiven’: the dialogic interaction between authoritative and internally persuasive discourse in Lamentations 3.” <em>Biblical Interpretation</em> 22, no. 2 (January 1, 2014): 146-167. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 18, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Berlin, Adele. <em>Lamentations: A Commentary</em>. The Old Testament Library. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002.</p></li>
<li><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, F. W. <em>Lamentations</em>. Interpretation. Louisville: John Knox Press, 2002.</p></li>
<li><p>–––. “The effects of enjambment in Lamentations. (part 2).” <em>Zeitschrift Für Die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft</em> 113, no. 3 (January 1, 2001): 370-385. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 14, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>–––. “The enjambing line in Lamentations: a taxonomy. (Part 1).” <em>Zeitschrift Für Die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft</em> 113, no. 2 (January 1, 2001): 219-239. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 14, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>–––. “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology in the Book of Lamentations.” <em>Journal for the Study of the Old Testament</em> no. 74 (June 1, 1997): 29-60. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 14, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Gottwald, Norman K. <em>Studies in the Book of Lamentations</em>. Chicago: Alec R. Allenson, Inc., 1954.</p></li>
<li><p>Houck-Loomis, Tiffany. “Good God?!? Lamentations as a model for mourning the loss of the good God.” <em>Journal of Religion and Health</em> 51, no. 3 (September 1, 2012): 701-708. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 18, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>House, Paul. “Lamentations.” In <em>Song of Songs / Lamentations</em>. Vol. 23B of Word Biblical Commentary, edited by Bruce M. Metzger and John D. W. Watts. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2004.</p></li>
<li><p>Huey, F. B. <em>Jeremiah, Lamentations</em>. Vol. 16 of The New American Commentary. Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1993.</p></li>
<li><p>Lalleman, Hetty. <em>Jeremiah and Lamentations</em>. Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2013.</p></li>
<li><p>Lee, Nancy C. <em>The Singers of Lamentations: Cities Under Siege, from Ur to Jerusalem to Sarajevo…</em>. Vol. 60 of Biblical Interpretation Series. Leiden: Brill, 2002.</p></li>
<li><p>Linafelt, Tod. <em>Suriving Lamentations: Catastrophe, Lament, and Protest in the Afterlife of a Biblical Book</em>. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000.</p></li>
<li><p>Longman, Tremper, III. <em>Jeremiah, Lamentations</em>. New International Biblical Commentary. Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2008.</p></li>
<li><p>Provan, Iain. <em>Lamentations</em>. New Century Bible Commentary. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1991.</p></li>
<li><p>–––. “Past, present and future in Lamentations 3:52–66 : the case for a precative perfect re-examined.” <em>Vetus Testamentum</em> 41, no. 2 (April 1, 1991): 164–175. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 26, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Renkema, Johan. <em>Lamentations</em>. Translated by Brian Doyle. Historical Commentary on the Old Testament. Leuven: Peeters, 1998.</p></li>
<li><p>Thomas, Heath A. <em>Poetry and Theology in the Book of Lamentations: The Aesthetics of an Open Text</em>. Hebrew Bible Monographs, 47. Sheffield: Sheffield Pheonix Press, 2013.</p></li>
</ul>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Paul House, “Lamentations,” in <em>Song of Songs / Lamentations</em>, vol. 23B of Word Biblical Commentary (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2004), 284; F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 2002), 4; Tremper Longman III, <em>Jeremiah, Lamentations</em>, New International Biblical Commentary (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2008), 328.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>So F. B. Huey, <em>Jeremiah, Lamentations</em>, vol. 16 of The New American Commentary (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1993), 442–443, who acknowledges no biblical truth is at stake in the affirmation.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>House, 286; Hetty Lalleman, <em>Jeremiah and Lamentations</em>, Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2013), 320-–321.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rightly, House, 289.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>Adele Berlin, <em>Lamentations: A Commentary</em>, The Old Testament Library (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), 31–32.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>Lalleman, 322.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Nancy C. Lee, <em>The Singers of Lamentations: Cities Under Siege, from Ur to Jerusalem to Sarajevo…</em>, vol. 60 of Biblical Interpretation Series (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 11, 48–49, 51; and see Heath A. Thomas, <em>Poetry and Theology in the Book of Lamentations</em>, Hebrew Bible Monographs, 47 (Sheffield: Sheffield Pheonix Press, 2013), 10–11 and House, 295 for summaries of and responses to suggested redactive possibilities.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rightly, Iain Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, New Century Bible Commentary (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1991), 16; Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 5.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 18.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>Longman, 329.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>Norman K. Gottwald, <em>Studies in the Book of Lamentations</em> (Chicago: Alec R. Allenson, Inc., 1954), 20–21.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 8–9.<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rightly, Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 12.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p>Longman, 330.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 79.<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 9.<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 10–12, 29.<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p>House, 310–314; Lalleman, 325-326.<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn19" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 3; emphasis original.<a href="#fnref19" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn20" role="doc-endnote"><p>Save that the order of פ and ע are flipped in chs. 2–4 (Gottwald, 24).<a href="#fnref20" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn21" role="doc-endnote"><p>Gottwald, 28–29; Thomas, 82.<a href="#fnref21" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn22" role="doc-endnote"><p>F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology in the Book of Lamentations,” <em>Journal For The Study Of The Old Testament</em> no. 74 (June 1, 1997), 58; Gottwald, 28–30.<a href="#fnref22" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn23" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 5.<a href="#fnref23" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn24" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 84 (emphasis original).<a href="#fnref24" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn25" role="doc-endnote"><p>F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, “The enjambing line in Lamentations: a taxonomy. (Part 1),” <em>Zeitschrift Für Die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft</em> 113, no. 2 (January 1, 2001), 221–223; ibid. “The effects of enjambment in Lamentations. (part 2),” <em>Zeitschrift Für Die Alttestamentliche Wissenschaft</em> 113, no. 3 (January 1, 2001), 370–371; cf. Berlin, 5; House, 428.<a href="#fnref25" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn26" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, “The effects of enjambment (part 2),” 373.<a href="#fnref26" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn27" role="doc-endnote"><p>ibid., 383–384.<a href="#fnref27" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn28" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 3.<a href="#fnref28" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn29" role="doc-endnote"><p>ibid., 5.<a href="#fnref29" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn30" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Miriam Bier, “‘We have sinned and rebelled; you have not forgiven’: the dialogic interaction between authoritative and internally persuasive discourse in Lamentations 3,” <em>Biblical Interpretation</em> 22, no. 2 (January 1, 2014), 148–149; Dobbs-Allsopp, “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 37; Tod Linafelt, <em>Suriving Lamentations: Catastrophe, Lament, and Protest in the Afterlife of a Biblical Book</em> (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000), 3,9,10.<a href="#fnref30" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn31" role="doc-endnote"><p>Longman, 340.<a href="#fnref31" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn32" role="doc-endnote"><p>Gottwald, 30; Lalleman, 353; Thomas, 83.<a href="#fnref32" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn33" role="doc-endnote"><p>Lalleman, 362. How to take Yahweh’s speech is an open question; see below.<a href="#fnref33" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn34" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Bier, 162–163;<a href="#fnref34" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn35" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 55–56.<a href="#fnref35" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn36" role="doc-endnote"><p>House, 430.<a href="#fnref36" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn37" role="doc-endnote"><p>ibid.<a href="#fnref37" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn38" role="doc-endnote"><p>F. W. Dobbs-Allsopp, “The effects of enjambment (part 2),” 374.<a href="#fnref38" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn39" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 194.<a href="#fnref39" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn40" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 30, 123; Longman, 336.<a href="#fnref40" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn41" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Jer. 2:23, 3:12, 6:16, 15:19.<a href="#fnref41" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn42" role="doc-endnote"><p>House, 421.<a href="#fnref42" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn43" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 38; ibid., <em>Lamentations</em>, 30; Longman, 336.<a href="#fnref43" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn44" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Exo. 13:21; 14:20,24; 19:9,16; 24:15–18; 33:9–10; 34:5; 40:34–38; Num. 9:15–22; 1 Ki. 8:10–11.<a href="#fnref44" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn45" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 96; Longman, 373.<a href="#fnref45" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn46" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 96.<a href="#fnref46" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn47" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Dobbs-Allsopp, “The enjambing line (part 1)” and ibid., “The effects of enjambment (part 2)” for a partial list.<a href="#fnref47" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn48" role="doc-endnote"><p>So Bier, 162–163; Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 123; ibid., “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 48; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 84.<a href="#fnref48" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn49" role="doc-endnote"><p>So, rightly, Longman, 339.<a href="#fnref49" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn50" role="doc-endnote"><p>The word translated “waste” here is a hapax; BDB gives “scum,” but the other versions (LXX, Syriac, etc.) differ (Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 100–101).<a href="#fnref50" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn51" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 123–124; ibid., “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 38.<a href="#fnref51" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn52" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 3; she rightly notes that most English translations exchange the rhyme for alliteration, which is a distinct poetic technique with a very different effect.<a href="#fnref52" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn53" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 18–19. On the covenant curses and Lamentations, see also Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 41; Gottwald, 47; Lalleman, 329; Longman, 337–338.<a href="#fnref53" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn54" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 195–196.<a href="#fnref54" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn55" role="doc-endnote"><p>Bier, 146–147, 153–154, 162–163; Dobbs-Allsopp, “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 48–49.<a href="#fnref55" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn56" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 41.<a href="#fnref56" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn57" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 196, 198.<a href="#fnref57" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn58" role="doc-endnote"><p>Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 103.<a href="#fnref58" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn59" role="doc-endnote"><p>So, rightly, Longman, 374; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 82; contra Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 125; Gottwald, 93.<a href="#fnref59" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn60" role="doc-endnote"><p>House, 425; Lalleman, 361.<a href="#fnref60" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn61" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 197.<a href="#fnref61" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn62" role="doc-endnote"><p>So House, 426; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 83.<a href="#fnref62" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn63" role="doc-endnote"><p>Lalleman, 362; Thomas, 200–201.<a href="#fnref63" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn64" role="doc-endnote"><p>Lalleman, 361, following Renkema, 451–452.<a href="#fnref64" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn65" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 97; Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 126; Longman, 375–376; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 105–106; ibid., “Past, present and future in Lamentations 3:52-66 : the case for a precative perfect re-examined,” <em>Vetus Testamentum</em> 41, no. 2 (April 1, 1991): 164-175. <em>ATLA Religion Database with ATLASerials</em>, EBSCO_host_ (accessed April 26, 2015); Thomas, 198.<a href="#fnref65" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn66" role="doc-endnote"><p>As suggested by Berlin, 3.<a href="#fnref66" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn67" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Thomas, 200–202, 210–211.<a href="#fnref67" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn68" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 3.<a href="#fnref68" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn69" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 126; Thomas, 197.<a href="#fnref69" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn70" role="doc-endnote"><p>On the lament imagery used throughout the section, see Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 126; Lalleman, 362; Longman, 375; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 105.<a href="#fnref70" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn71" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 127; Thomas, 197.<a href="#fnref71" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn72" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Ps. 86:13, where תַּחְתִּיּֽוֹת is used in an identical construction with שְּׁא֥וֹל substituted for בּ֖וֹר.<a href="#fnref72" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn73" role="doc-endnote"><p>Thomas, 197, 203.<a href="#fnref73" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn74" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Gen. 26:24, 46:3–4; Num. 21:34; Deut. 1:21; Jsh. 8:1, 10:8, 11:6; Jdg. 6:23; 2 Kng. 19:6–7; Isa. 41:10,14, 43:1,5; Jer. 1:8, 30:10–11, 46:27–28; and cf. Gen. 15:1; 2 Kng. 6:16; Isa. 7:4, 10:24–27, 37:6, 44:2.<a href="#fnref74" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn75" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 6.<a href="#fnref75" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn76" role="doc-endnote"><p>So, rightly, Thomas, 200–202.<a href="#fnref76" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn77" role="doc-endnote"><p>So rightly, Thomas, 210; cf. also Berlin, 18–19.<a href="#fnref77" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn78" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Lalleman, 363; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 108.<a href="#fnref78" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn79" role="doc-endnote"><p>Gottwald, 79–80.<a href="#fnref79" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn80" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 97; Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 127.<a href="#fnref80" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn81" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Longman, 378; Provan, <em>Lamentations</em>, 109.<a href="#fnref81" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn82" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 98–99; Lalleman, 363.<a href="#fnref82" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn83" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Lalleman, 363.<a href="#fnref83" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn84" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 97–98; House, 429.<a href="#fnref84" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn85" role="doc-endnote"><p>Longman, 331.<a href="#fnref85" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn86" role="doc-endnote"><p>Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, 127, steps partway in this direction; cf. Thomas, 203.<a href="#fnref86" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn87" role="doc-endnote"><p>See especially Gottwald, 30, 99.<a href="#fnref87" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn88" role="doc-endnote"><p>See e.g. Bier, 162–163; Dobbs-Allsopp, <em>Lamentations</em>, ; ibid., “Tragedy, Tradition, and Theology,” 34–38; Linafelt, 3–9.<a href="#fnref88" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn89" role="doc-endnote"><p>See e.g. Tiffany Houck-Loomis, “Good God?!? Lamentations as a model for mourning the loss of the good God,” <em>Journal Of Religion And Health</em> 51, no. 3 (September 1, 2012): 701–708.<a href="#fnref89" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn90" role="doc-endnote"><p>See e.g. the application to the Bosnian conflict in Lee, or the application to the Holocast in Linafelt.<a href="#fnref90" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn91" role="doc-endnote"><p>Rightly, Houck-Loumis, 702–703, though much of the rest of her analysis must be discarded.<a href="#fnref91" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn92" role="doc-endnote"><p>Lee, 3.<a href="#fnref92" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn93" role="doc-endnote"><p>Berlin, 19.<a href="#fnref93" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
An Uncomfortable Fit2015-04-25T10:00:00-04:002015-04-25T10:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-04-25:/2015/an-uncomfortable-fit.htmlA Complex, Post-Denominational Ecclesiastical Identity: or, how I'm still just a Presmatic Bapterian.
<p>I grew up in a small, non-denominational, baptistic, charismatic church. Speaking in tongues, the use of private prayer languages, claims to words of knowledge and prophecies, and the expectation of miraculous healings were common. Unfortunately, even granting a continuationist view of the gifts, the church’s practice was never in line with New Testament guidelines for the gifts—no translation of tongues, for example, or requirement that prophecy be fulfilled for the prophet to be judged true. I grew disillusioned with the charismatic approach to the gifts by late high school, and spent several of the following years as a near-cessationist. I remain skeptical of most charismatic churches’ practice of the gifts, but am not a cessationist: I see no compelling exegetical argument for the position. I am especially open to the likelihood of the miraculous gifts in frontier missions context, where they serve to validate the proclamation of the gospel over and above demonic powers worshipped in polytheistic, animistic, and shamanistic cultures.</p>
<p>In college, I spent two years attending a fairly traditional Southern Baptist church. For the latter half of my time in college and the three years following, I was a member of a non-demoninational, baptistic, broadly evangelical church with my wife Jaimie. During that time, I remained baptistic, but began to become concerned with the lack of confessional moorings in most baptistic churches (denominational or non-denominational alike). Along the way, I shifted from the non-Calvinistic views held by most charismatics and Baptists to an Edwardsian Calvinism and developed stronger convictions about church polity. Finally, since moving to North Carolina, we have been committed members at First Baptist Church of Durham—a healthy, elder-led, Calvinistic Southern Baptist church that we love.</p>
<p>However, even here, we find that we are not totally “at home”; it is not quite right to call even Calvinistic Southern Baptists “my tradition”. Indeed, it is perhaps most accurate to say that I have not yet <em>found</em> my tradition. What I have found instead are points to appreciate in a number of traditions, and an increasing identification (at least from the outside) with many elements of the Presbyterian tradition. A friend once described me as a “Pres-matic Bapt-erian”, and he seems to have been right. I find much to appreciate in the charismatic background from which I sprang, and much to value in the Baptist tradition where I currently live—but at the end of the day, it is only my credobaptist convictions keeping me within the Baptist world, rather than transitioning into Presbyterianism.</p>
<p>From the charismatic tradition in which I grew up, I learned the value of affections oriented toward Christ. It is not enough to <em>understand</em> the things of God; we must also love him and one another. Our faith must be true <em>and</em> experiential. John reminds us that “this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3) and that “Whoever says he is in the light and hates his brother is still in darkness” (1 John 2:9). Moreover, they emphasized that walking in the Holy Spirit is essential to the healthy Christian life. Though I might now characterize the Spirit’s primary work differently from the church of my childhood, I still affirm whole-heartedly that the Christian life is deeply and profoundly dependent on the Holy Spirit. Paul enjoins us, “But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh…. If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit” (Galatians 5:16, 25). Likewise, John reports Jesus’ shocking statement that it is <em>better</em> for us that he left and sent the Spirit than that he should have remained with us (John 16:7ff.). The life of the Christian must be a Spirit-filled and Spirit-empowered life. We can never overemphasize the work of the Spirit in our lives (though we may sometimes articulate that work inaccurately).</p>
<p>From the Southern Baptist churches I have attended I have gained a deeper appreciation for the importance of evangelism and missions. Whether from the Great Commission in Matthew 28:18–20 or the similar notes sounded in Luke 24:45–49 and then throughout the book of Acts, it is clear that God’s people are called to evangelize wherever we go. (Closely related to the above point, however, this is not mere salesmanship. As Luke points out in Acts 1:8, the power for the church’s missionary work is the Holy Spirit, not human wisdom.) If the church forgets that her first and foremost calling is the proclamation of the gospel to all the nations, she will rapidly fall off the cart in one direction or another.</p>
<p>The historic Baptist emphasis on regenerate church membership and the congregation’s responsibility for discipline are also essential ingredients to healthy, flourishing churches (and therefore for flourishing individual Christians). The countless “one another” passages of the New Testament (e.g. John 13:34–35, Ephesians 4:25–32) emphasize mutual service as an essential mark of Christian fellowship. Moreover, the well-known church discipline passages (Matthew 18:15–20) indicate clearly that the members of a congregation are to look out for each other’s spiritual well-being. Although this care has sometimes been twisted to abuse in other churches, we are blessed to participate in a context where the passages’ emphasis on forgiveness and restoration is kept front and center. Meaningful membership and congregational care through church discipline are not universally popular, but they are among the hallmarks of our particular corner of the Southern Baptist convention. This kind of care for the saints is not only necessary: it is <em>beautiful</em>.</p>
<p>From my Presbyterian friends I have increasingly come to appreciate a more thoroughly confessional identity and the value of churches connected not only by sharing funds but also by polity. Acts 15 highlights that the early church resolved its most significant outstanding tension not by letting each church go its own way doctrinally, but by issuing a decision that was binding on <em>all</em> the churches. Granted: the presence of the apostles then means our situation is not identical. Still, the event demands attention. Even a church with the illustrious history and (apostolic!) leadership of the congregation at Antioch did not feel equipped to make serious doctrinal decisions without consulting the rest of the church. This is not to deny that there are clear marks of local congregational responsibility throughout the epistles, only that the New Testament pattern was of churches in active contact, cooperation, and doctrinal dependence with each other in a way that appears <em>very</em> similar to a proto-presbytery, and quite unlike the radical autonomy of Baptist churches.</p>
<p>I also find the historic Reformed articulation of the relationship between the various spheres of life extremely compelling. Calvin and his heirs often advocated clearly and coherently for the goodness of the created order and for human activity therein. Here, vocation (including the arts) is taken not merely as a means to gospel proclamation, but as genuinely good in itself. This theme runs throughout Scripture: God commanded man to work before the Fall (cf. Genesis 2:5,15), and though work has been corrupted and made toilsome by the Fall, it remains good. The world itself was created good (Genesis 1), and though it groans with us for redemption (Romans 8:19–23) it still proclaims the glory of God (see Psalm 19 for just one of many examples). Many evangelicals pay lip service to the goodness of creation and vocation, but few outside the high church traditions (especially Anglican, Lutheran, and Presbyterian) carry the doctrine through in their practice. This leaves me hungry for the kind of intellectual, vocational, and artistic engagement I see in those traditions.</p>
<p>From late modern evangelicalism more broadly I have imbibed both my essential Christian temperament—my unsettled, “post-denominational” eccesiastical identity included!—and two other essential ingredients: a sense of catholicity, and a desire to do more and better in caring for “the least of these.” Set against Jesus’ “new command” in John 13, the divisions within the church are painful realities we should strive to see undone wherever possible. Our disagreements are not trivial; we cannot simply toss them aside. We can, however, glory in our common experience of “mere Christianity” and take opportunities where possible to worship our risen Lord together. We can also work together across denominational boundaries to care for the orphans and widows (James 1:27), to confront injustice in this age. The needs of the world around us are severe and painful; the various wings of the church can and should unite to bring what tastes we can of the justice and mercy of Christ’s kingdom into the present age—in the church, and everywhere else (Micah 6:8).</p>
<p>Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I have found in <em>all</em> of these movements a consistent emphasis on the centrality, authority, and sufficiency of Scripture. From my charismatic, Arminian-leaning youth minister to the pastors of the middle-America Bible church I attended during and after college to the elders of Calvinistic Baptist church we now call home, all have pointed consistently to God’s word as his ultimate self-revelation. These churches have <em>all</em> lived out a commitment to the idea that God’s word is living and active (Hebrews 4:12) and profitable in every way (2 Timothy 3:16–17).</p>
<p>Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the number of shifts in my past, the transition to another tradition would be relatively straightforward; apart from the issue of believer’s baptism, Presbyterianism looks quite appealing even now. Even beyond these more important convictional differences, I do not fit comfortably within the Baptistic tradition culturally. Its populism often verges on (and sometimes crosses into) anti-intellectualism. Its broadly helpful focus on evangelism and missions too often translates into a reductive approach that reduces all spheres of life to vehicles for gospel-proclamation—not recognizing that while in God’s providence they often serve as such, the myriad spheres of life are good in their own right. The Southern Baptist identification with the culture of the South is also problematic for someone culturally not a Southerner.</p>
<p>Discussions on the nature of the church and the history of the Baptist movement in this class have largely solidified my pre-existing discomfort within the Baptist tradition and somewhat intensified the struggle to define my ecclesiastical identity. The theological commitments and cultural habits of (especially Southern) Baptists trouble me deeply. Reading <em>The Baptist Way</em> had precisely the opposite effect Norman intended: his polemical rhetoric bore the marks of profound ignorance of other traditions. Much of the reading on believers’ baptism was similarly dismissive—arguing not against the substance of other positions, but instead against caricatures thereof. Dockery’s call for renewal and consensus was more helpful, but it, too, had a sectarian bent. The denomination’s (and the broader tradition’s) deep anti-intellectualism and lasting suspicion of creeds and confessions make it unlikely that Southern Baptists will be able to claim the confessional identity or theological consensus they need.</p>
<p>It is an unfortunate reality that my experience of Baptists has too often been marked by denominational sectarianism, anti-intellectualism and anti-creedalism, and reductionistic and utilitarian approaches to God’s world. To be sure, there are exceptions to these trends, and I am grateful for them. But it means that, credobaptist though I am, “Baptist” and especially “Southern Baptist” are not and cannot be my ecclesiastical <em>identity</em> unless they comes to mean something very different than they have for many years. In the meantime, I will remain a “Pres-matic Bap-terian”, and deeply grateful for the traditions that have shaped me and especially our current church—even when they are not a “perfect fit”.</p>
Seeds of Comfort2015-04-20T09:57:00-04:002015-04-20T09:57:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-04-20:/2015/seeds-of-comfort.html<blockquote>
<p>No matter that Deuteronomy had envisioned it and the prophets had foretold it; nothing could prepare one for the ruel reality and the apparently finality of the situation. The burden of Lamentations is not to question why this happened, but to give expression to the fact that it did. At …</p></blockquote><blockquote>
<p>No matter that Deuteronomy had envisioned it and the prophets had foretold it; nothing could prepare one for the ruel reality and the apparently finality of the situation. The burden of Lamentations is not to question why this happened, but to give expression to the fact that it did. At certain moments the book seems to look beyond the destruction, to hold out hope for the future, but in the end despair overcomes hope. Past and future have little place in the book. It centers on the “present”—the moment of trauma, the interminable suffering. The book is not an explanation of suffering but a re-creation of it and a commemoration of it.</p>
<p>Why immortalize this moment of destruction? Because in its own way it signals the truth of the Bible’s theology, and it points to the continuation of the covenant between God and Israel….</p>
<p>This explains why the poet can cry out to God and expect a response, why can vent his anger at God, why he can declare that God continues to exist even though his temple does not (Lam 5:18–19), why God is portrayed as so strong and the enemy gets no credit for the destruction. The suffering is, as it were, an affirmation that God is still there and still concerned with the fate of Israel. He may hide his face, but he has not ceased to be Israel’s God. Lamentations contains the seeds of comfort and religious rebuilding that the exilic prophets (especially Second Isaiah) developed more fully in the aftermath of the destruction.</p>
</blockquote>
Artistry and Humanity2015-04-18T09:05:00-04:002015-04-18T09:05:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-04-18:/2015/artistry-and-humanity.html<blockquote>
<p>… Lamentations more than anything is about formation: discovering what it means to be human in a world where things often times seems [sic] upside down. Lamentations squares off with this reality and responds with artistry and humanity before God.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>… Lamentations more than anything is about formation: discovering what it means to be human in a world where things often times seems [sic] upside down. Lamentations squares off with this reality and responds with artistry and humanity before God.</p>
</blockquote>
Repent and Be Baptized2015-03-28T22:00:00-04:002015-03-28T22:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-03-28:/2015/repent-and-be-baptized.htmlWho should be baptized, and how, and by whom? Is rebaptism ever allowed? How does baptism affect church membership or the Lord's Supper?<section id="baptismal-theology-and-practice" class="level2">
<h2>Baptismal Theology and Practice</h2>
<p>There are only two practices embraced universally throughout the Christian church: baptism and the Lord’s Supper. Even with these, serious differences remain, reflecting deeper distinctions in the theology and practice of the church. In the case of baptism, the questions of its meaning and mode tend to reflect the believer’s views on the nature of God’s saving work, the covenant community, and the church. Who should be baptized, and how, where, and under what circumstances are difficult, important questions. Believers must consider them carefully and hold their conclusions humbly.</p>
</section>
<section id="baptismal-theology" class="level2">
<h2>Baptismal Theology</h2>
<p>Baptism should be applied to believers, and is best carried out by immersion. However, while Baptist churches have often tended toward a dogmatic position on these, leading to a frequent practice of rebaptism, more caution is necessary—especially on the second point.</p>
<section id="meaning" class="level3">
<h3>Meaning</h3>
<p>Baptism is the covenant sign of one’s entrance into the Christian faith, and also a means of grace in the life of the Christian—not <em>saving</em> grace, but real grace nonetheless, in the same way that fellowship with the saints, the preaching of the word, and the Lord’s supper are.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> God works grace in the life of believers in their obedience to his commands, of which baptism is among the clearest in the New Testament (Matt. 28:18–20, Acts 2:38). Moreover, it is the symbol and in some mysterious way also a means of the believer’s union with Christ in his death and resurrection (Rom. 6:3–4, Col. 2:8–14), an element of his union with Christ’s church (Eph. 4:4–6), and his appeal to God for a pure conscience (1 Pet. 3:21–22).</p>
<p>Baptism is not merely a symbolic ordinance<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> but, as these passages make clear, a place in which God works uniquely in the life of the believer. Neither is paptism a work necessary for salvation, as is clear from the salvation of the thief on the cross (Luke 23:42–43, as well as from many other places that teach that faith alone is necessary for salvation). Nor is there warrant in Scripture for the idea that baptism is a means of regeneration or cleansing from original sin. Nonetheless, paptism is ordinarily a part of God’s saving work in his people’s lives. The reality that some are saved who are never baptized does not mean it plays no part in the believer’s life, but rather that its part is in <em>sanctification</em> rather than in <em>justification</em>.</p>
</section>
<section id="mode" class="level3">
<h3>Mode</h3>
<p>Nearly all Baptists historically have argued on the basis of the New Testament language that baptism <em>must</em> be by immersion. The word βαπτίζω, usually transliterated to English as “baptize” rather than translated, is a secondary verb derived from the root βάπτω, broadly meaning simply “to dip or immerse.” While a full exegetical treatment is beyond the scope of this essay, two points must be remembered in any discussion of baptism. First, the normal meaning of both these words <em>is</em> dipping or immersion, and there are a number of examples which strongly suggest going down into and coming up out of standing water (Matt. 3:6–17, Mark 1:4–11, John 3:22, Acts 8:36–39). Second, however, the lexical domain of these verbs and of the various words derived from them within the New Testament alone is broader than dipping or immersion, and certainly includes the notion of washing.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a></p>
<p>Moreover, its figurative uses throughout the New Testament range far more broadly than “immersion” alone: it includes partaking of trials (Mark 10:38, Luke 12:50); the transfoming work of the Spirit (Matt. 3:11, Acts 1:5, Acts 11:16), and even the Israelites’ passing through water without getting wet (1 Cor. 10:2). The most significant of these metaphorical texts is Paul’s argument that in baptism believers have been united with Christ in his death and resurrection (Rom. 6:3–4, Col. 2:8–14). The parallel imagery between the two is clear and potent: baptism visualizes death and resurrection. However, Paul’s parallel uses of the word “baptism” and “baptize” (e.g. 1 Cor. 12:13, Gal. 3:27) with “in Christ” demonstrate that the point of these passages is union with Christ—not mode of baptism. Immersion illustrates this reality most effectively, but immersion is not commanded.</p>
<p>It should be granted, then, that the primary meaning of the word group is of dipping or immersion, but that it also includes a broader sense of washing or transformation. Likewise, given what documents there are from the first and second century, it seems safe to say that baptism was normally by immersion in the early church. However, it is too much to say that immersion is <em>demanded</em> by the language used or by the examples in the New Testament. Rather, it should be preferred as the <em>best</em> way of expressing visually the death, burial and resurrection of the believer with Christ as well as the cleansing and transformative elements of the practice. At the same time, those who practice baptism by immersion should not reject baptisms by sprinkling or pouring as false or unbiblical baptisms.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="subject" class="level3">
<h3>Subject</h3>
<p>The debate over the <em>subject</em> of baptism is similarly heated. There are essentially two positions on who should be baptized (with some variations in each position): that only new believers should be baptized, or that new believers and the children of believers should be baptized. While there are some important differences regarding the <em>meaning</em> of the baptism of believers, it is the universal practice of all Christian churches. The baptism of infants or as-yet-unbelieving children of newly converted parents, however, has been attributed a wide number of meanings, ranging from cleansing from original sin and the beginning of the individual’s own work of salvation (the Catholic view) to entrance into the covenant community conditioned on personal faith (the Presbyterian view).<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a></p>
<p>On the one hand, the vast majority of Christians throughout all history prior to the 20th century baptized infants. On the other hand, the believer is responsible finally to submit to the Bible, tradition notwithstanding; if the Scriptures teaches credobaptism, even the weight of so much tradition must be set aside. Nonetheless, church history is often illuminating for difficult interpretive issues.</p>
<p>The earliest unambiguous mention of infant baptism is Tertullian’s condemnation of the practice in 198 A.D. Less than two decades later, though, Hippolytus advocated the baptism of children incapable of answering for themselves less than two decades later (parents or other relatives were to speak on behalf of their children).<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a> Some argue that the commands for those baptized in earlier documents such as the <em>Didache</em><a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> precludes children’s having been baptized, but this is an argument from silence—and these same kinds of commands appear in the “Apostolic Tradition” following the instruction regarding children. In any case, practice in the church was mixed by the end of the second century at the latest.</p>
<p>The evidence from New Testament practice is also ambiguous.<a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a> It is true that in the cases where the recipients of baptism are clearly delineated, they are believers. However, any argument regarding the household baptisms is necessarily an argument from silence. There is no grounds in the text for asserting that <em>none</em> of the households that received baptism included infants or small children incapable of professing faith.<a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a> To say otherwise is to read one’s theological presuppositions into the text. By the same token, however, paedobaptists have no more warrant than do credobaptists for claiming these passages as clear evidence for their view. Believers may of course argue that these passages should be interpreted in light of their understanding of the rest of the New Testament—but without the dogmatism too often present on both sides. The passages simply do not say; indeed, no passage in the New Testament even speaks clearly about believing children.<a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a></p>
<p>Thus, the subject of baptism can be determined only through the passages that teach about its meaning and function in the life of the believer. Covenantal paedobaptists<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a> argue that, in continuity with the pattern of the Abrahamic Covenant, children of believers—that is, children of those who are themselves members of the covenant community of faith—should be baptized. They note, rightly, that the major points of discontinuity marked off by the New Covenant are with the <em>Mosaic</em> covenant rather than the Abrahamic Covenant. As such, they suggest that just as the (male) children of members of the Abrahamic covenant were circumcised to symbolize their entrance into the covenant community, so likewise (all) children of members of the New Covenant should be baptized. The covenant view rightly distinguishes between the role of the symbol and the necessary faith of the believer. It also rightly identifies the church with Abraham’s offspring (cf. Luke 3:7–9) and takes seriously the teaching in both Testaments that Abraham and his offspring were saved by faith, not merely by being members of the people of Israel (see esp. Gal. 3:1–6).<a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a></p>
<p>However, while the Abrahamic covenant led directly to the New Covenant, it nonetheless had an ethnic or national bent to it that the New Covenant does not. The Abrahamic covenant was with Abraham and his offspring in a specific nation, though for the good of all nations (Gen. 12:1–7, 15:1–21, 17:1–14). Circumcision was established for Abraham and his descendants as their act of covenant (Gen 17:9–14). Yet the New Testament unambiguously does away with circumcision as the mark of participation in God’s community (cf. Acts 10:1–48, 16:3, 1 Cor. 7:18, Gal. 2:3, 5:2). The New Covenant circumcision is one “made without hands” (Col. 2:11; cf. Deut. 30:6, Rom. 2:29) and is tied directly to baptism—“the circumcision of Christ” (Col. 2:11b–12).</p>
<p>The covenant paedobaptist is right that baptism is to the church what circumcision was to the Jews, but wrong about how entrance into the covenant community now comes about.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a> Again: salvation was always by faith, but the people of God are no longer constituted ethnically or nationally, but by faith alone. To become one of God’s people in the Abrahamic covenant was to join the nation of Israel; even when, as in Ruth’s case, that commitment was one of faith it was also national and ethnic. It is no longer. Those who are to be baptized are those who have become disciples (Matt. 28:18–20), repented (Acts 2:38–39), been united with Christ in his death and resurrection (Rom. 6:3, Col 2:12), put on Christ (Gal. 3:27), asked God for cleansing from sin (Acts 22:17) and for a clear conscience (1 Pet. 3:21). In the New Covenant, <em>only</em> those who profess faith are marked as belonging to the people of God.<a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a></p>
<p>In line with the practice described in the New Testament, then, only believers should be baptized today: those who have made a clear and credible profession of faith. However, those who affirm believer’s baptism should be careful not to overstate their case. While the New Testament does incline this way, there is no slam-dunk case, and no therefore warrant for sneering at those who disagree. Moreover, other convictions held in light of one’s position on baptism must be held moderately, in light of the provisional character of the doctrine.</p>
</section>
<section id="excursus-rebaptism" class="level3">
<h3>Excursus: Rebaptism</h3>
<p>Rebaptism is a serious matter. It argues that the first baptism a person underwent was not in fact a Christian baptism at all, for one should not otherwise be rebaptized. There is only one instance of rebaptism recorded in the New Testament: that of the believers in Ephesus (Acts 19), who had not been baptized in the name of Jesus at all. If the meaning, mode, and subject of baptism as outlined above are correct, then it is appropriate to rebaptize those who have been baptized as unbelievers (including as children) or by those who are not orthodox Christians (e.g. Mormons). However, it is inappropriate to rebaptize those who were baptized by a mode other than immersion,<a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a> for the mode of baptism is neither a primary issue nor a point asserted dogmatically anywhere in Scripture. Moreover, it is also inappropriate to rebaptize those who were baptized as believers, but by churches holding differing views on the meaning of baptism but which are nonetheless true Christian churches. Any baptism applied to a believer on a valid profession of faith by a true church ought to be respected by other Christian churches.<a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a></p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="baptismal-practice" class="level2">
<h2>Baptismal Practice</h2>
<section id="baptism-and-the-lords-supper" class="level3">
<h3>Baptism and the Lord’s Supper</h3>
<p>Many Baptists have argued that the Lord’s Supper should be reserved for those who have been baptized as believers, by immersion—a position that dates from the origin of Baptist life (in the writings of William Kiffen) to the present day (see the Baptist Faith and Message 2000 for just one example). A minority of Baptists throughout the history of the movement (famously including John Bunyan) have argued to the contrary: that the table ought to be open to any who have given a valid profession of faith, or are members in good standing of other Christian churches. Finally, a yet-smaller group has practiced local-church-only communion, in which only the members of a given congregation may partake of communion there. The first position, though most common, is perhaps least sustainable in the author’s view. The fully open and local-church-only views are more self-consistent in their interpretation of the relevant passages on the Lord’s Supper.</p>
<p>All those answering this question are attempting to deal rightly with the reality that coming to the Table is a serious matter. The New Testament teaches that Christians are not to partake of the meal with those who are in unrepentant sin (1 Cor. 5) and warns that judgment will come on those who themselves partake of the meal while unrepentant (1 Cor. 11:20–30). Moreover, unrepentant sin is the only boundary set around the table in the New Testament. But arguing that being mistaken about even a practice so central as baptism constitutes unrepentant sin is problematic. There are other doctrines of denomination-forming importance, and which believers regard as sin issues; if this logic were to be applied consistently, Christians could never share the Table with anyone who did not share their every denominational distinctive.</p>
<p>As Mike Bergman comments, the Lord’s Table is for disciples—for all those who will be eating the supper together when the Lord returns.<a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a> The “closed” communion position wrongly restricts the practice on the basis of a doctrinal distinctive—one having little to do with the meaning of the Table itself. Baptism is important, but to be incorrect on a secondary (albeit important) issue is not remotely as unrepentant sin.</p>
<p>Advocates of closed communion sometimes argue for a modified version of this position. Instead, they argue that participation in the Lord’s Supper requires that one already have been baptized, and that since paedobaptism or baptism by a mode other than immersion are by (their) definition not baptisms at all, such believers should not be admitted to the table.<a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a> However, this is also problematic. First of all, it assumes facts not in evidence. The New Testament makes no comment on the issue whatsoever, presumably because it was not an issue (regardless of the question of credo- or paedobaptism), leaving one with no direct exegetical warrant for drawing the line here. Moreover, the result is to exclude from the table other believers whose faith in Christ one fully acknowledges and who one is confident will share in the feast at the end of ages—on the basis of a debated interpretive issue, where the New Testament draws no such line. Again, this reduces in no uncertain terms to the idea that doctrinal differences are sufficient for excluding people from the Table, and sets one rapidly on the path to sectarianism.</p>
<p>Finally, advocates of the local-church-only position rightly note that the local church, and especially her shepherds, have a responsibility for the souls of those who partake of the Table. Again, the New Testament is clear that partaking of the talbe in known, unrepentant sin is a cause for judgment; it is likewise clear that churches are as part of the practice of church discipline remove unrepentant members from the table. Since the local church cannot ordinarily know the spiritual condition of a visitor, it is safer to restrict communion only to those about whom the congregation does have knowledge: members. However, this position is similarly hard to sustain from the New Testament. While churches are to remove from membership and access to the table those who are in unrepentant sin, there is no indication of restricting the Table only to those in the local congregation. Moreover, the text most often cited as evidence for this position (1 Cor. 11:28) actually speaks to individuals holding themselves accountable, rather than to churches holding their members accountable.</p>
<p>Given that the New Testament pattern is indeed of baptism, the question once again is whether the issue of baptism is so certain as to warrant this kind of restriction. If, as argued above, there are grounds for holding a credobaptist position only with considerable humility, Christians must likewise take care not to draw too thick a line around other elements of the church’s practice on the basis of baptismal doctrine.</p>
</section>
<section id="baptism-and-the-local-church" class="level3">
<h3>Baptism and the Local Church</h3>
<p>Many of the same arguments applied to the Lord’s Supper have been applied to the issue of church membership, and many of the same concerns are in play. However, many Baptist churches today practice open communion but closed membership, and a number of high-profile Baptist leaders throughout history have advocated for open membership as well as open communion.<a href="#fn19" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref19" role="doc-noteref"><sup>19</sup></a> Baptists have universally argued for a regenerate church membership, and believer’s baptism by immersion has <em>usually</em> been understood to be a prerequisite for membership, since other forms of baptism have been deemed invalid.<a href="#fn20" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref20" role="doc-noteref"><sup>20</sup></a> Moreover, since a local church is not merely a group of believers who happen to come together, but a group united around common affirmations about the nature of the Christian life and the truths Scripture teaches, local churches rightly have a higher bar for membership than merely that a person appears truly to be saved.<a href="#fn21" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref21" role="doc-noteref"><sup>21</sup></a></p>
<p>Churches should certainly not admit to membership those who affirm their stance on baptism yet continue to refuse it. In cases where the person affirms paedobaptism, though, membership may not be wholly out of bounds—for the same reason that the Lord’s supper is not: the unity of the body of Christ matters enormously. It will <em>usually</em> be best in such circumstances to direct the individual to another evangelical church in the area that practices paedobaptism.<a href="#fn22" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref22" role="doc-noteref"><sup>22</sup></a> This best reflects the importance and seriousness of baptism. However, there may be times when the best option is to admit such an individual to membership—e.g., in cases where the baptistic church is the evangelical congregation in the area. Baptism is important, but not so important as to leave a regenerate individual or family without fellowship. Until Christ returns and finally sets all doctrines aright, people should gather with those with whom they share core doctrinal affiliations where possible—and be welcomed as brothers and sisters in Christ where it is <em>not</em> possible. Such a practice may, by the grace of God, be used a little to knit together again the fractured body of the church catholic.</p>
<section id="is-baptism-a-church-ordinance" class="level4">
<h4>Is baptism a church ordinance?</h4>
<p>Some believers argue that baptism is specifically a church ordinance, and as such that it should never (or only in very rare circumstances) be carried out outside the church. Since baptism is the believer’s initiation into the church, it is the right only of the church to carry it out.<a href="#fn23" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref23" role="doc-noteref"><sup>23</sup></a> However, in nearly every case in the New Testament, the newly baptized believers constituted the first members of the church, and baptism is rarely mentioned outside of “church planting” narratives. In the few cases where baptisms in the local church <em>are</em> discussed (1 Cor. 15:29), the content is simply not relevant. Indeed, Jesus himself presided over (but did not participate in) a great many baptisms prior to the formation of the local church, and evidently to a different end than “Christian baptism”—certainly the symbolism of death, burial, and resurrection with Christ remained hidden from those recipients of baptism. As with John’s baptism, this seems to have been a baptism “for repentance from sins” (Mark 1:4). Given the relative silence of Scripture on the subject, it again seems best not to stake out too strong a position on who may and may not baptize.</p>
<p>Certainly the normal circumstance will be baptism in the context of a local church, because the local church is the home of Christian ministry. However, this is not a normative practice; should a person come to faith in the context of a parachurch ministry, there is no basis for arguing that it is <em>categorically</em> wrong for the parachurch ministry to perform the convert’s baptism. To be sure, a parachurch ministry that consistently baptizes new converts may run the risk of usurping the church’s role—but in this case, the baptismal practice is a reflection of the problem, not itself the problem.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="the-age-for-baptism" class="level3">
<h3>The Age for Baptism</h3>
<p>Given the credo-baptist position that only those who have made a credible profession of faith should be baptized, the question arises: how old must someone be to offer a profession that the church deems credible and therefore administers baptism? Put negatively, is there an age below which such a baptism would be more akin to paedo- than to credobaptism? Or should any profession of faith be accepted, regardless of the child’s age? There are a number of good arguments in favor of baptizing even very young children after a clear profession of faith.<a href="#fn24" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref24" role="doc-noteref"><sup>24</sup></a> First, there is no evidence in Scripture for delaying baptism after clear professions of faith: baptism normally followed a profession of faith immediately.<a href="#fn25" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref25" role="doc-noteref"><sup>25</sup></a> Second, delaying baptism as a sort of “litmus test” for baptism implies that something besides repentance and faith in Christ is necessary for salvation. Third, it is not giving false assurance to affirm even a child’s trust in Christ through the gospel—perhaps even to the contrary (Mark 10:13–16). Moreover, the New Testament pattern for confirmation of salvation is always a matter of encouraging those who <em>have</em> made a profession to hold fast to it (cf. Heb. 2, 4, 6, 10), rather than discouraging people from profession or baptism.</p>
<p>However, there are also a number of reasons to consider delaying baptism for children.<a href="#fn26" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref26" role="doc-noteref"><sup>26</sup></a> One caution against baptizing young adults who have made a profession is the historic practice of baptistic churches, and that of many baptistic churches outside the United States, where baptism has been and remains a matter for adulthood. Another is the reality that young children, being easily swayed by their parents or peers, might be inclined to make false professions of faith—even apparently sincere ones. Of course, <em>any</em> profession of faith may be made for the wrong reasons.<a href="#fn27" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref27" role="doc-noteref"><sup>27</sup></a> It is not the church’s job to prevent false profession from being made, but to respond appropriately when a false profession has been made (Matt. 18, 1 Cor. 5). Moreover, as noted above, Scripture is simply silent on the age of non-adults baptized, so making a hard and fast rule is unwarranted. It may nonetheless be wise to baptize only individuals who are judged capable of making their own professions of faith—perhaps those in their early pre-teen years and onward, as judged together by parents and church leaders in each case.<a href="#fn28" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref28" role="doc-noteref"><sup>28</sup></a></p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="summary" class="level2">
<h2>Summary</h2>
<p>Baptism is the sign of the New Covenant, and should be applied to the members of that covenant: believers. The preferred mode is immersion, but other modes may be allowed if circumstances demand. Similarly, the church is the ordinary context and her members the normal adminstrators of baptism, but it matters most that a person be baptized by an orthodox Christian in the Trinitarian formula. Those who have been baptized as believers ought not be rebaptized, regardless of mode. Those who have not been baptized as believers may partake of the Lord’s table, but should not ordinarly become members of a Baptist church. In all these things, the people of God ought to rejoice in their participation in the death and resurrection of Christ.</p>
<hr />
</section>
<section id="bibliography" class="level2">
<h2>Bibliography</h2>
<ul>
<li><p>Bergman, Mike. “Why We Practice ‘Open’ Communion.” SBC Voices. Posted September 9, 2011. http://sbcvoices.com/why-we-practice-open-communion/ (accessed March 24, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Dever, Mark E. “Baptism in the Context of the Local Church.” In <em>Believer’s Baptism: Sign of the New Covenant in Christ</em>. Edited by Thomas R. Schreiner and Shawn D. Wright. Nashville: B&H Academic, 2007. 329–352.</p></li>
<li><p>Finn, Nathan. “Baptism as a Prerequisite to the Lord’s Supper: A White Paper from the Center for Theological Research.” Fort Worth: The Center for Theological Research, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2006.</p></li>
<li><p>——, “A Baptist perspective on -re-baptism-”. BRNow.org. Posted February 25, 2013. http://www.brnow.org/Opinions/Guest-Columns/February-2013/A-Baptist-perspective-on-re-baptism (accessed March 28, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Freeman, Curtis W. “Analysis: Should Baptist churches adopt open membership? Yes.” The Baptist Standard. Posted on April 21, 2010. https://www.baptiststandard.com/news/faith-culture/11047-analysis-should-baptist-churches-adopt-open-membership-yes (accessed March 28, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Garrett, James Leo. “Analysis: Should Baptist churches adopt open membership? No.” The Baptist Standard. Posted on April 21, 2010. https://www.baptiststandard.com/news/faith-culture/11048-analysis-should-baptist-churches-adopt-open-membership-no (accessed March 28, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Moore, Russell D. “Table Manners.” <em>Touchstone</em>, Sept/Oct 2011. http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=24-05-016-v (accessed March 28, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Norman, R. Stanton. <em>The Baptist Way: Distinctives of a Baptist Church</em>. Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 2005.</p></li>
<li><p>Piper, John. “How Important is Church Membership” (sermon, Bethlehem Baptist Church, July 13, 2008).</p></li>
<li><p>——. “Teaching and Admonishing One Another in All Wisdom” (sermon, Bethlehem Baptist Church, July 27, 2008).</p></li>
<li><p>——. “What Is Baptism, and How Important Is It?” (sermon, Bethlehem Baptist Church, July 20, 2008).</p></li>
<li><p>Starke, John. “Should We Baptize Small Children? Yes.” The Gospel Coalition. Posted February 23, 2011. http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/should-we-baptize-small-children-yes (accessed March 28, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>Wax, Trevin. “Should We Baptize Small Children? No.” The Gospel Coalition. Posted February 21, 2001. http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/trevinwax/2011/02/21/should-we-baptize-small-children/ (accessed March 28, 2015).</p></li>
<li><p>White, Thomas. “What Makes Baptism Valid?” In <em>Restoring Integrity in Baptist Churches</em>, edited by Thomas White, Jason G. Duesing, and Malcolm B. Yarnell, III. Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, 2008. 107–118.</p></li>
</ul>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>The Lord’s Supper belongs in a distinct category, insofar as it is a means of <em>special</em> grace in the Christian life, but it fits in this list as well.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra Thomas White, “What Makes Baptism Valid?” in <em>Restoring Integrity in Baptist Churches</em>, eds. Thomas White, Jason G. Duesing, and Malcolm B. Yarnell, III (Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, 2008), 110–111.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>See e.g. Luke 11:38, where it is clear the Pharisees were not surprised that Jesus failed to take a whole-body bath; or Mark 7:4, where the same word is used of washing after returning from the market; or Hebrews 6:2, 9:10, where it refers to ritual purification<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>This was the pattern of the early church, as evidenced by the very early “Didache”, which argued for baptism by immersion if possible and by pouring if necessary (<em>Didache</em> 7).<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>This may be taken as a secondary argument against paedobaptism—a point made to the author and others by Nathan Finn in a number of personal conversations and in several class lectures, 2013–2015.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>The Apostolic Tradition of Hippolytus of Rome 21.4.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>Didache 7.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra many Baptists, e.g. R. Stanton Norman, <em>The Baptist Way: Distinctives of a Baptist Church</em> (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 2005), 110–112; White, 109–110.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra e.g. Norman, 110–111.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>The nearest the New Testament comes to it are: Jesus’ welcome of little children (Mark 10:13–16), Paul’s admonitions to those married to unbelievers for the sake of their spouse and children (1 Cor. 7:12–16), and Paul’s instructions to presumably believing children and their parents (Eph. 6:1–4, Col. 3:20–21) .<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>For constraints of time and space, the author has left aside other views, many of which are both historically and practically significant and deserves serious interaction, but which have in the author’s view less Scriptural warrant (to varying degrees) than the covenant position.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>It is also perhaps surprising that in all the controversy stirred up by the Judaizers in the early church, there is no mention of hostility over children being excluded from the New Covenant—a fairly striking change between the two. This is especially so given that the distinction between Old and New Covenants did not preclude the Judaizers from arguing for many <em>other</em> points of even stronger continuity between Mosaic practice and that of the church—still less Abrahamic practice and that of the church. However, this is another argument from silence and so cannot be taken as strong evidence one way or the other. (Personal conversation with Doug Serven, August 5, 2010.)<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>John Piper, “What Is Baptism, and How Important Is It?” (sermon, Bethlehem Baptist Church, July 20, 2008).<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p>The contested passages in Acts are left aside because, as has been noted, they do not prove what either side claims they do. Lydia believed, and her household was baptized—does this mean her household had no infants in it and everyone in it converted with her? It is impossible to say.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>Contra e.g. Nathan Finn, “A Baptist perspective on -re-baptism-”, BRNow.org, posted February 25, 2013, http://www.brnow.org/Opinions/Guest-Columns/February-2013/A-Baptist-perspective-on-re-baptism (accessed March 28, 2015).<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p>This, of course, partly begs the question, for it leaves aside the matter of what constitutes a “true Christian church”—certainly a contested issue, and one beyond the scope of this paper. At a minimum, no group which rejects orthodox Trinitarianism and Christology may be included. At most, some major denominations may be excluded. The author is inclined to treat believers’ baptisms even by groups with serious doctrinal problems such as Roman Catholics as valid, however, so long as the specific congregation by which the believer was baptized rightly proclaimed a gospel of repentance from sins and salvation through the finished work of Christ alone.<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p>Mike Bergman, “Why We Practice”Open" Communion," SBC Voices, posted September 9, 2011, http://sbcvoices.com/why-we-practice-open-communion/ (accessed March 24, 2015).<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p>See e.g. Nathan Finn, “Baptism as a Prerequisite to the Lord’s Supper: A White Paper from the Center for Theological Research,” (Fort Worth: The Center for Theological Research, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2006); and Russell D. Moore, “Table Manners,” <em>Touchstone</em>, Sept/Oct 2011, http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=24-05-016-v (accessed March 28, 2015).<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn19" role="doc-endnote"><p>Curtis W. Freeman, “Analysis: Should Baptist churches adopt open membership? Yes,” The Baptist Standard, posted April 21, 2010, https://www.bapti ststandard.com/news/faith-culture/11047-analysis-should-baptist-churches-adopt-o pen-membership-yes (accessed March 28, 2015).<a href="#fnref19" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn20" role="doc-endnote"><p>James Leo Garrett, “Analysis: Should Baptist churches adopt open membership? No,” The Baptist Standard, posted April 21, 2010, https://www.baptiststandard.com/news/faith-culture/11048-analysis-should-baptist-churches-adopt-op en-membership-no (accessed March 28, 2015).<a href="#fnref20" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn21" role="doc-endnote"><p>So rightly, Moore in his discussion of the Lord’s Table in “Table Matters.”<a href="#fnref21" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn22" role="doc-endnote"><p>Close friendships between evangelical churches and their leaders would be a boon in this sort of work—as well as in kingdom ministry in general.<a href="#fnref22" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn23" role="doc-endnote"><p>See e.g. Mark E. Dever, “Baptism in the Context of the Local Church,” in <em>Believer’s Baptism: Sign of the New Covenant in Christ</em>, eds. Thomas R. Schreiner and Shawn D. Wright (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2007), 329–331; White, 112–114. Both merely <em>assert</em> this point; neither demonstrates it. Dever rightly grants that there is no biblical instruction about <em>who</em> should baptize (331) while failing to note that there is similarly no express statement that it is a church ordinance.<a href="#fnref23" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn24" role="doc-endnote"><p>The following was adapted from John Starke, “Should We Baptize Small Children? Yes,” The Gospel Coalition, posted February 23, 2011, http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/should-we-baptize-small-children-yes (accessed March 28, 2015).<a href="#fnref24" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn25" role="doc-endnote"><p>So likewise Dever, 345.<a href="#fnref25" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn26" role="doc-endnote"><p>The following was adapted from Trevin Wax, “Should We Baptize Small Children? No,” The Gospel Coalition, posted February 21, 2001, http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/trevinwax/2011/02/21/should-we-baptize-small-children/ (accessed March 28, 2015).<a href="#fnref26" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn27" role="doc-endnote"><p>“Baptism: Theology and Practice: A Statement by the Elders”, First Baptist Church of Durham, 2014, 11.<a href="#fnref27" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn28" role="doc-endnote"><p>First Baptist Church of Durham, 11–12.<a href="#fnref28" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
“Optimal Equivalence”2015-02-28T20:30:00-05:002015-03-16T20:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2015-02-28:/2015/hcsb-thoughts.html<p>Over the past few months, I have been doing a read-the-Bible-in-90-days plan, and decided to take the opportunity to read through the Holman Christian Standard Bible. I have not <em>quite</em> finished the plan, but I <em>have</em> read the whole text of the Bible in that time (just not in sequence …</p><p>Over the past few months, I have been doing a read-the-Bible-in-90-days plan, and decided to take the opportunity to read through the Holman Christian Standard Bible. I have not <em>quite</em> finished the plan, but I <em>have</em> read the whole text of the Bible in that time (just not in sequence!). The HCSB is a very solid and reliable translation, and I have no qualms recommending it, alongside the NLT, the NIV,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> the ESV, and the NASB as valuable and helpful modern translations. (Other translations may also be helpful, but those are the English translations with which I am most familiar.)</p>
<p>Rather than try to do a detailed analysis and review—a task that would take a great many words indeed—I thought I would simply offer some observations on the text gleaned from this read through.</p>
<section id="the-translation" class="level2">
<h2>The Translation</h2>
<p>Published by Holman Bible Publishers, the HCSB is a relatively recent translation, dating to 2004. (Holman is part of Lifeway, the for-profit publishing arm of the Southern Baptist Convention.) The HCSB was totally new translation, rather than a revision of an older tradition, based on the NA27/UBS4 Greek text and the BHS5 text. The translation committee called their translation strategy “optimal equivalence”, aiming for a balance between the more wooden “functional” and the more free (but also looser) “dynamic” equivalence philosophies. (On the name of their equivalence, more in a moment.)</p>
<section id="general-philosophy" class="level3">
<h3>General Philosophy</h3>
<p>The translators described their overall philosophy as “optimal equivalence”—shooting for a balance between “formal” and “dynamic” equivalence, perhaps most popularly represented by the NASB and NIV respectively.</p>
<p>While I find the translators’ goals admirable, and I think the results are generally fairly good, a word about their name for the philosophy is in order. To call one’s translation philosophy “optimal equivalence” is nearly tautological. <em>Every</em> translator thinks that her approach is optimal given the goals she sets herself. Otherwise, she would pick a different strategy—one more <em>optimal</em> for the goals of her translation!</p>
<p>As for the results, in truth I think the come a great deal closer to “dynamic equivalence” than the translators might care to acknowledge. The difference between “optimal” and “dynamic” equivalence here is fairly lean; in truth, it seems more a matter of the particular tastes of the translation committee than of actually being more “functionally” equivalent than the NIV. If we conceived of the dynamic-functional equivalence scale as ranging from 1 to 10, with 1 being a full paraphrase and 10 being a 1st-year student’s word-for-word gloss of the original, the NIV would be about a 4 and the HSCB about a 5. (I would rate the NLT about a 2.5–3, the ESV a 7, and the NASB 8–8.5.)</p>
<p>I have no problem with that; the result is a fairly solid reading Bible. Like the NIV and the NLT, its biggest weakness is a certain flatness of style—there is little to distinguish Paul from Peter or the Chronicler from the author of Kings. The ESV manages to bring through some of those authorial quirks and idiosyncrasies a bit more, but sometimes at the cost of clear English.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> The biggest place this flattening shows up is in the poetic language: the Psalms here are not <em>bad</em>, but they’re never especially beautiful, either. That’s a real shame. The prosaic meaning of the Psalms does come through well enough, but at the cost of precisely that element that makes them so compelling and have given them such a lasting influence: their poetic voice.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="leaving-behind-the-kjv" class="level3">
<h3>Leaving Behind the KJV</h3>
<p>The HCSB, to a greater extent than many other conservative translations, demonstrates considerable willingness to diverge from the readings of the KJV. In many ways, this is good: it makes for better (modern) English, and in many cases a better translation as well, since our knowledge both of the textual basis of the Bible and of the original languages has advanced somewhat since 1611.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> Occasionally, though, and especially in the poetic sections, the result is a serious flattening of the text. Compare, for example, their translation of Job 38:11. The HCSB reads:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">when I declared: “You may come this far, but no farther;<br />
your proud waves stop here”?</div>
</blockquote>
<p>The KJV has:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">and said, Hitherto shalt thou come, but no further:<br />
and here shall thy proud waves be stayed?</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Of course, I am not <em>terribly</em> sad to see the archaic pronouns go (though I do miss their precision a bit!). But “here shall thy proud waves be stayed” sings in a way that “your proud waves stop here” just… doesn’t. It’s not bad, but it isn’t particularly poetic, either. The ESV follows the KJV more closely, with:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther,<br />
and here shall your proud waves be stayed’?</div>
</blockquote>
<p>That manages to keep the poetry of the KJV while using modern English, perhaps the best tradeoff under the circumstances. Given the extent to which the language and rhythm of the KJV have shaped modern English, there are times abandoning the KJV actually <em>hurts</em> the translation. This goes back to the point above: poetics matter. This is not a failing of the HCSB alone, though; every dynamic equivalence translation I’ve read falls into the same trap. (And again: the functionally equivalent translations fall into <em>other</em> traps; in any case no one ever accused the NASB of containing particularly <em>beautiful</em> English—in poetry or prose!)</p>
</section>
<section id="the-divine-name" class="level3">
<h3>The Divine Name</h3>
<p>The HCSB’s handling of the divine name (יהוה) is… strange. The translators chose to supply “Yahweh” in some places but <span class="smcp">“Lord”</span> or <span class="smcp">“God”</span> in others. They opted to use “Yahweh” anytime the author explicitly refers to the name (שׁמ) of God in the nearest sentences. However, they do not continue to transliterate the name in the <em>follwing</em> context, even when that would be appropriate. As a result, it is not uncommon for a passage to include <em>both</em> “Yahweh” and <span class="smcp">“Lord”</span>, which muddles things considerably. They also supply “Yahweh” from time to time when “name” is <em>not</em> in the immediate context.</p>
<p>This particular approach is, in my view, unhelpful at best. Those who are offended by seeing the divine name in print or hearing it read aloud will be offended. Those who are <em>not</em> offended and find it helpful to see and hear the divine name directly will only find it some of the time. Moreover, the inconsistency within a given passage can make it even <em>less</em> clear than in a translation that simply sticks to the small-capitals convention (<span class="smcp">“Lord”/“God”</span>). I am generally approve transliterating the name, but consistency is often the most important element for clarity and comprehension.</p>
</section>
<section id="miscellaneous-translation-notes" class="level3">
<h3>Miscellaneous Translation Notes</h3>
<p>There were a number of other quirks in the translation I thought worth noting.</p>
<ul>
<li><p>Instead of the more usual “…declares the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>” or “…says the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>,” the tranlators opted to go with “This is the <span class="smcp">Lord’s</span> declaration…” and “This is what the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> says….” This is a perfectly defensible translation, but is another case where diverging from the traditional reading, even for more normal English, actually sounds a bit jarring. I never actually adjusted to it, even after weeks of seeing it.</p>
<p><strong>Edit:</strong> I’ve been spending an awful lot of time looking at the prophetic books in Hebrew lately, and I get to eat some crow on this one. Where the HCSB has “this is the <span class="smcp">Lord’s</span> declaration”, the original text usually has some that, brought over in an extremely wooden sense, would be “declaration of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>”, so this really is <em>better</em> than the original—even if it is a bit jarring!</p></li>
<li><p>The treatment of units is splendid overall. It is, however, inconsistent. Units of distance, weight, and so on are all translated directly into their modern English equivalents. (This being a very American translation, the units are all Imperial, of course.) Reading miles instead of <em>stadia</em> and inches or feet instead of <em>cubits</em> was quite helpful and illuminating. On the other hand, the translators treated money very differently, simply leaving them in the original units. Perhaps they were concerned about currency fluctuations or the vagaries of inflation on the value of money over time. Perhaps there is no better way to handle monetary units, but the inconsistency remained a trifle jarring.</p></li>
<li><p>There were a number of passages where the hermeneutical biases of the translators came through clearly. Their rendering of John 3:36, for example, supplies a great deal more than can be justified on the basis of the Greek text alone. The HCSB has:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>The one who believes in the Son has eternal life, but the one who refuses to believe in the Son will not see life; instead, the wrath of God remains on him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The translation the HCSB is certainly one possible interpretation of the text, but that interpretation must be justified on the basis of many other texts; the plain sense of the original is as the ESV has it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>All translation involves some degree of interpretation, but on the whole the HCSB translators did an admirable job of leaving ambiguities in the original unresolved. That made instances like this one all the more jarring—though, given that the HCSB is more dynamic than not, perhaps unsurprising. (The NIV makes almost exactly the same move as the HCSB here.) Hopefully they will pull it back a bit in future revisions of the text.</p></li>
</ul>
</section>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>The various issues highlighted above notwithstanding, I have enjoyed reading through the HCSB over the last few months. It is a solid, respectable translation and the men and women who worked on it are to be commended for their work. Because of the quirks listed above, however, I do not expect it will become a go-to translation for me. At the end of the day, the HCSB’s “optimal equivalence” boils down to a slightly tighter dynamic equivalence. As thigns stand, though, I would rather use either the NIV or the NLT among the dynamic equivalence translations—both are more consistent translations than the HCSB, and therefore require less explanation when teaching and less mental hoop-jumping when reading. By the same token, the ESV is a very good translation more on the functional end of the spectrum, and certainly checks off those boxes much more effectively than does the HCSB. Again: it is not so much that the HCSB is a <em>poor</em> translation as that it does not do anything sufficiently <em>better</em> than other existing translations as to displace them in my current reading and study habits.</p>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Yes, even the NIV2011. On the gendered/inclusive language controversy, I basically follow D. A. Carson in <em>The Inclusive-Language Debate: A Plea for Realism</em>. The nature of language simply does not allow the kinds of lines that many conservatives (including myself in the past) have been inclined to draw. This becomes immediately apparent when considering translation into either languages without grammatical gender (even as in the case of English’s neuter article: “the” indicates neither masculinity nor femininity, just like the Hebrew הַ, but unlike Greek’s ὁ/ἡ/το trio) or languages with <em>more</em> grammatical genders. (Similarly, in his discussion of the “gender” of the Holy Spirit, Dan Wallace in his <em>Grammar</em> argues strongly against taking the gendered pronoun in Jesus’ discussion of the Spirit as indicative of personal gender.) This is simply bad linguistics, and therefore also poor theology. There is much more that could be said here, but in any case I do not have the problems many of my fellow theological conservatives do with the NIV2011.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>This is exactly what I mean about “optimal” equivalence: which of these results is <em>optimal</em>? Neither, and both! It depends on what you’re going for!<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>The fact of the matter is: the meaning of a poem is never so cleanly separable from its form. I’ve written about this—though too briefly—<a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2014/mouths-of-poets.html">before</a>.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>No Byzantine priority for me! Also, I mean no offense to the KJV translators, who did a truly phenomenal job. I happen to think, though, that <em>they</em> would be pleased to see the work of translation continue forward, rather than remaining fixed on their particular work.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Startlement2014-12-29T20:00:00-05:002014-12-29T20:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-12-29:/2014/startlement.htmlThe Incarnation is the most surprising of all the miracles. All miracles are a surprise, but this one startles more than any other.<p><i class="editorial">This was originally published as part of James Metelak’s 2015 <a href="http://headpiecestraw.blogspot.com/">25 Days of Christmas Project</a>.</i></p>
<hr />
<p>“Startling”: this is the best word I can find for the doctrine of the Incarnation. It is the most surprising of all the miracles. Every miracle is a surprise, of course; it would not be a miracle otherwise. Still, there is something uniquely and specially striking about this one.</p>
<p>God became a man.</p>
<p>C. S. Lewis called this the central miracle of the Christian faith, the miracle on which all others depend: if this one happened, then of course all the others are possible. What is feeding a few thousand people with five loaves and two fish compared to the transcendent One becoming immanent? What is healing a centurion’s dead servant, set next to the Creator squealing at his mother’s breast? What is walking on water or calming a storm, for the God who took up the image of the image of God? Not to make little of these miracles—they are in no way trivial or light. But the Incarnation stands apart.</p>
<p>Even the resurrection of the Son of God is less surprising than his birth. Now, we must never minimize Jesus’ resurrection. It is the means of our justification and the basis all our hope. It is the rock beneath our joy in the long and painful days that stand between us and our own restoration. Its enormity remains. Still, it seems to me less astonishing than the Incarnation. Death has always been an interloper; its reign was always temporary. Once God had taken up this frail form, it seems almost unthinkable that he would <em>fail</em> to raise it from the dead. But the Creator-God wrapping himself in creature-hood was never something we could have guessed.</p>
<p>Look closer. The wonders—the strange, delightful paradoxes—mount up.</p>
<p>God does not change. The Father and the Son and the Spirit are as ever they have been: perfectly united, delighting in each other, needless and complete. And yet, in that marvelous moment in Mary’s womb, there was a permanent change. The Son was then, is now, and will forever be, a human being. He never ceased to be eternal God—not for a moment—but now he is also everlasting man. It was the first and only beginning in the being of God.</p>
<p>God is spirit; he dwells in unapproachable light; no eye can see him and no hand touch him. Jesus the Messiah, though, is a human being through and through. He is David’s descendant, and Judah’s, and Abraham’s, and Noah’s, and Adam’s. He is not invisible at all. Nor is he merely a hologram, an image without the substance of the thing. Other hands touched him, in hope and in hate. His own hands grew blisters when he first learned to use a hammer at his father’s side, touched in healing and forgiveness, were pierced with real nails, still had holes Thomas could when he was raised. His feet had calluses from walking the dusty roads between Jerusalem and Judea.</p>
<p>The Triune Godhead is not taught and does increase in understanding. All knowledge is his from forever to forever. Yet Jesus learned. He grew in wisdom and stature and favor with God and man; he learned obedience through what he suffered and so became perfect. The immortal, invisible, only wise God took up a mortal body that died, displayed prominently for all to see, in the supreme act of foolishness as the world judges such things. When it was finished, he did not cast away the body as so much detritus. He kept it and raised it gloriously new, beautiful and undying.</p>
<p>God needs nothing. He is totally, completely self-sufficient. Everything that has ever existed or ever will exist, he created, and without his sustaining power everything would immediately cease to exist. He does not sleep, and never needs to eat. The Father worked through the Son to create all things, and it is in the Son that all things hold together. Yet when he walked this earth he ate and slept and had to put away his body’s waste. It was not the appearance but the reality of need. He was both a little boy getting thirsty as he ran around the hot streets of Egypt, and the one who ensures the water that would refresh him continued to exist.</p>
<p>God is holy. He is unassailably good, perfectly just, unfailingly righteous—and Jesus’ family history is a series of portraits of human sin: an adulterous murderer, a Canaanite woman of ill repute, a man who slept with his daughter-in-law, and more than a few who worshipped carved-up rocks and trees instead of God. We were made in the image of God, the mirror of divinity, but the humanity the Son took up was shattered and dirtied beyond recognition. Theh body the Son took was not one crafted not to share our weaknesses; it was like ours in every way. <em>This</em> flesh he baptized, and this flesh divinized. We have come to share truly in the nature of God because God came and shared truly all the nature of man.</p>
<p>The Creator joined with his own being a created, broken thing. Of course every sad thing must now begin to come untrue. If that restoration comes slower than we might hope, we can sense its inevitability nonetheless, like slow-growing vines spreading cracks in some great edifice. The walls will fall—maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but they will fall. Human being, has been joined once more to divinity, as it was meant to be from the beginning. Someday we will be right again—maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but we will be right again.</p>
<p>Every miracle is a surprise, but the Incarnation of the Son of God astounds us at every turn, until it makes every other surprise seem all-but-inevitable. When unchanging God has undergone a permanent change, invisible God has become forever visible, unneeding God has experienced need, unlearning God has learned, immortal God has come to die in a mortal body—what does “impossible” even mean?</p>
<p>The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Old things are gone. All things are new. Glory to God in the highest.</p>
On the Incarnation2014-12-25T11:45:00-05:002014-12-25T11:45:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-12-25:/2014/on-the-incarnation.html<blockquote>
<p>For as when a figure painted on wood has been soiled by dirt from outside, it is necessary for him whose figure it is to come again, so that the image can be renewed on the same material—because of his portrait even the material on which it is painted …</p></blockquote><blockquote>
<p>For as when a figure painted on wood has been soiled by dirt from outside, it is necessary for him whose figure it is to come again, so that the image can be renewed on the same material—because of his portrait even the material on which it is painted is not cast aside, but the portrait is reinscribed on it. In the same way the all-holy Son of the Father, being the Image of the Father, came to our place to renew the human being made according to himself, and to find him, as one lost, through the forgiveness, as himself says in the Gospels, “I came to seek and save the lost” (Lk 19.10)…. So, rightly wishing to help human beings, he sojourned as a human being, taking to himself a body like theirs and from below—I mean through the works of the body—that those not wishing to know him from his providence and governance of the universe, from the works done through the body might know the Word of God in the body, and through him the Father….</p>
<p>Now then, if they ask why he did not appear through other more noble parts of creation, or use some nobler instrument, as the sun or moon or stars or fire or air, but merely a human being, let them know that the Lord came not to be put on display but to heal and to teach those who were suffering. One being put on display only needs to appear and dazzle the beholders; but one who heals and teaches does not simply sojourn, but is of service to those in need and appears as those who need him can bear, lest by exceeding the need of those who suffer he trouble the very ones in need and the manifestation of the divine be of no benefit to them….</p>
<p>Properly, therefore, the Word of God took a body and used a human instrument, in order to give life to the body and in order that, just as he is known in creation by his works, so also he might act in a human being, and show himself everywhere, leaving nothing barren of his divinity and knowledge. Again, I repeat, resuming what we said before, that the Savior did this in order that as he fills everything everywhere by his presence, so also he might fill all things with the knowledge of himself, as the divine scriptures say, ‘The whole earth was filled with the knowledge of God’ (Isa 11.9).</p>
</blockquote>
Be Holy!2014-12-10T12:00:00-05:002014-12-10T12:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-12-10:/2014/be-holy.html<p><i class="editorial">I would like to preface the following review by noting that Andy Davis is not just any author, and indeed not just any pastor. He is one of <em>my</em> pastors. This makes the task of writing a critical book review somewhat strange. On the one hand, I wanted to write …</i></p><p><i class="editorial">I would like to preface the following review by noting that Andy Davis is not just any author, and indeed not just any pastor. He is one of <em>my</em> pastors. This makes the task of writing a critical book review somewhat strange. On the one hand, I wanted to write this review as I would any such. On the other hand, I wanted to take care to show respect to a man whom God has used to shepherd me and my family for the past two years since we moved to North Carolina, and whom I regard very highly for his faithfulness in serving the church gathered as First Baptist Church of Durham. I hope I have struck the balance appropriately. And as I hope will become clear, though there were a few places where this book could be stronger, it is nonetheless extraordinarily valuable. I have been challenged and indeed have grown in holiness because of having read it. I commend it to you.</i></p>
<hr />
<p><em>An Infinite Journey: Growing toward Christlikeness</em>, by Andrew M. Davis, Greenville: Ambassador International, 2014, 480 pages.</p>
<section id="overview" class="level2">
<h2>Overview</h2>
<p>Andrew Davis’ <em>An Infinite Journey</em> is a careful, thorough, heavy exploration of the doctrine and practice of sanctification in the Christian life. Davis, the long-time pastor of First Baptist Church in Durham, North Carolina and an adjunct professor at nearby Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, has clearly dedicated considerable time and consideration to the topic of holiness and growth in the Christian life, and this consideration is on display throughout what is ultimately a very helpful book.</p>
<p>Davis begins by introducing the concepts which permeate the rest of the book: the saving work of God in Christ and the Christian’s lasting dependence on the Holy Spirit. Perhaps surprisingly (at least to the casual reader), he opens not with the topic of sanctification, but with justification, arguing that all real Christian growth must be predicated on a right understanding of the gospel. Thus, he spends some time tracing out the story of salvation, culminating in Christ’s atoning death on the cross and resurrection, and his institution of the church and sending the Holy Spirit to save and then shape the internal lives of Christians throughout the ages. He further argues that all Christians are involved in two “infinite journeys”—the external journey of evangelism and discipleship, and the internal journey of growth in holiness. Both, he notes, are essential for the health of the Christian: to be deficient in either is to demonstrate either ignorance or hard-heartedness toward the things of God.</p>
<p>After this introduction, Davis turns to a map of the second of these journeys: the internal path of growing Christ-likeness. His thesis is that sanctification is a four-part process, involving a continuous sequence of knowledge, faith, character, and action, each feeding into the next. Knowledge of God produces faith; increasing faith produces Christlike character; a more Christlike character results in more Godward actions; and those Godward actions in turn lead to a greater knowledge of God himself. Davis dedicates a section of the book to each of these ideas, examining in detail Scriptural support for the concept and then examples of the element in the lives of figures in Scripture, especially Christ. Finally, he turns to a section dedicated to application, looking at the knowledge-faith-character-action cycle as a whole in both Scripture and a variety of day-to-day scenarios.</p>
</section>
<section id="analysis" class="level2">
<h2>Analysis</h2>
<p>Davis’ treatment of the doctrines of sanctification is thorough and compelling, most of all because it is drenched in Scripture. Early in the book, Davis explicitly spells out his commitment to the centrality, sufficiency, and authority of Scripture, and the text of the book backs this up. It is common to hear authors affirm the importance of Scripture; it is rare to see it so born out so clearly in their writing. Even apart from the explicit references on nearly every page, the text bears the unmistakable imprint of Davis’ own practice of memorizing books of the Bible. Allusions, near quotes, and implicit references to Scripture appear multiple times on nearly every page.</p>
<p>This Scriptural emphasis leads to the book’s other great strengths. First, Davis makes no point without basing the assertion on Scripture, and he draws on every section of the Bible to demonstrate the importance of each aspect of his map for growth in holiness. Moreover, he follows Scripture’s lead in grounding sanctification in the work of Christ mediated to us by the Holy Spirit. Davis’ emphasis on the work of the Spirit is especially helpful. Though he is by no means a charismatic in the modern sense of the word, it is clear that he is gripped by the reality that sanctification simply does not happen without the work of the Holy Spirit. This is an essential corrective for two kinds of churches: those tempted to ignore the Spirit, and those tempted to ignore all the works of the Spirit apart from those that result in visible signs. Rightly, Davis’ doctrine of sanctification is trinitarian: holy people whole-heartedly worship the Father in Spirit-empowered dependence on the finished work of the Son.</p>
<p>Second, this Scriptural care allows Davis to navigate the difficult topic of Spirit-dependent human effort that characterizes Biblical sanctification. Because sanctification is the one aspect of salvation in which people are called to work (e.g. in Phil. 2:12), many believers are tempted to treat sanctification as a wholly human endeavor. Davis repudiates this notion, showing again and again that sanctification—like the justification that precedes it and the glorification that will follow it—is ultimately a work of God and one that brings him all glory. No person will be able to claim the credit for their own sanctification before God at the day of judgment. At the same time, he also rejects a Keswickian spirituality (“let go and let God”), even when dressed up as mere gospel dependence. However much in vogue the notion may be that we can do nothing and God does everything for us, it is simply not true. God requires us actively to seek him and his holiness. Davis rightly recognizes both these dangers and charts a course between them. The pursuit of holiness is empowered by the Holy Spirit, and believers must always fix their eyes on the finished work of Christ and the promise of future glory. Yet believers keep their eyes on Christ and rely on the Spirit <em>to work</em>—not to sit still and trust God to float them toward holiness.</p>
<p>The book does have a few weaknesses. First, although the book’s length and thoroughness are valuable in many ways, they also make this a difficult sell for anyone who is not already a dedicated reader. Moreover, while much of the length was inevitable in a work this thorough on a topic this complex, the book could be substantially shorter were it edited more carefully. Trimming the lengthy introduction and removing some repetition, unnecessary explanations, and clarifications would make the work stronger as well as shorter and more approachable. Given Davis’ goals—to stir up believers to pursuing holiness—this would be profoundly helpful, as it would allow for the book to be used in a broader variety of contexts.</p>
<p>Second, a number of Davis’ references to words’ meanings in Greek are either extraneous or inaccurate. In particular, he regularly committed the so-called etymological fallacy, ascribing meaning to words based on their components rather than their actual use in the language. (This led him several times to disagree with every modern major translation!) He also sometimes referenced English words derived from Greek terms, but in cases where the derivation is irrelevant to the present meaning of the English word (e.g. <em>poem</em> from <em>poiema</em>). Gladly, no major issues in the text hung on these cases. Nonetheless, the misuses were distracting, and since in most cases they were also unnecessary, they actually <em>weakened</em> the book for me.</p>
<p>That these are the only significant issues in such a large and thorough book is a significant achievement, and both could readily be addressed in future editions of the work. Taken as a whole, Davis’ book shines. As Davis points out, holiness necessarily entails both knowledge of the things of God and zeal for his glory. The book drips with Davis’ passion for God and his urgent desire that God’s people seek holiness, and it lays out a thoughtful and (most importantly) Scriptural plan for how his people shall become holy. Lord willing, the volume will be a reliable guide to sanctification for the church for years to come.</p>
<hr />
<p><strong>Note on publication:</strong> This paper was first published online on January 1, 2015. However, I wrote this and submitted it in mid-December, and have backdated it accordingly.</p>
</section>
Worship Leader2014-12-02T21:25:00-05:002014-12-02T21:25:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-12-02:/2014/worship-leader.html<blockquote>
<p>A faithful worship leader magnifies the greatness of God in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit by skillfully combining God’s Word with music, thereby motivating the gathered church to proclaim the gospel, to cherish God’s presence, and to live for God’s glory.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>A faithful worship leader magnifies the greatness of God in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit by skillfully combining God’s Word with music, thereby motivating the gathered church to proclaim the gospel, to cherish God’s presence, and to live for God’s glory.</p>
</blockquote>
You Need a Plan2014-12-02T17:50:00-05:002014-12-02T17:50:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-12-02:/2014/bible-reading-plan.htmlI need a plan for reading the Bible—just like for everything else in life. Otherwise, things go downhill in a hurry.<p>Sometimes I feel like an idiot.</p>
<p>A week and a half ago, I started on a plan that will get me through the entirety of the Bible in ninety days. I’ve enjoyed it and—much more importantly—found it very helpful spiritually. My personal devotional time has been spotty the last few months, and I needed to make it a more regular part of my life.</p>
<p>The problem was simple: I didn’t have a plan.</p>
<p>Thus, feeling like an idiot. I’m very well aware in nearly every <em>other</em> area of my life how important a plan is. I don’t go running without a basic idea of where I want to go, and in a larger sense I don’t train for a half marathon without a basic idea not only of what my running schedule will be like for the season but also what my strategy ought to be. Nor do I tackle a semester’s worth of work without a schedule. Nor do I try to build a significant piece of software without charting out the basic approach I’ll take (and sometimes a good deal more than just the basic course). I would be silly to think I would be successful in training for a race, passing my classes, building an application, or much else in life without a basic plan.</p>
<p>Why, then, I have acted like I could succeed spiritually without that kind of discipline is beyond me.</p>
<p>The truth is, when I have a plan—nearly any plan!—for reading the Bible, I can stick to it and my devotional life tends to be fairly consistent. As anyone who has been a Christian for some time knows, personal devotions are profoundly helpful. They help us see the face of God more clearly and keep in focus the spiritual realities of our lives. We <em>need</em> that, given the tendency of the human heart to drift off into apathy toward our King. Apathy is dangerous. Sin is always ready for us to let down our guard and stop wholeheartedly pursuing God. Slacking off—in our meditations on his word, our prayer life, or our fellowship with the saints—will lead us steadily to ruin.</p>
<p>It is not so much the details of a Bible-reading plan that matters, then. It is that I have a plan, so that I stay on target. In this case, I am reading a great many chapters a day, seeking to get a grasp on the big picture of the Bible. In another, I might be working slowly through a book, trying to understand its pieces and parts and details. In yet another, I might simply read and meditate and pray over the same psalm every day for a month. The point is to seek God— diligently, hungrily, passionately; not to let up in pursuing holiness in conformity to the image of his Son; to chase the knowledge of th eholy more than I have ever chased a half marathon PR.</p>
<p>If I have been an idiot by failing to plan, and have been in and out of my regular devotional times, God has still been merciful to me in other means of grace: the preaching of the word, personal prayer, Scripture memory, and so on. But I am glad to have a plan. I am glad to be seeking him that much more diligently. Lord willing, I shall keep it up.</p>
Doctrine2014-11-04T23:02:00-05:002014-11-04T23:02:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-11-04:/2014/doctrine.html<blockquote>
<p>Doctrine is not merely an affair of the tongue, but of the life; is not apprehended by the intellect and memory merely, like other branches of learning; but is received only when it possesses the whole soul, and finds its seat and habitation in the inmost recesses of the heart …</p></blockquote><blockquote>
<p>Doctrine is not merely an affair of the tongue, but of the life; is not apprehended by the intellect and memory merely, like other branches of learning; but is received only when it possesses the whole soul, and finds its seat and habitation in the inmost recesses of the heart…. To doctrine in which our religion is contained we have given the first place, since by it our salvation commences; but it must be transfused into the breast, and pass into the conduct, and so transform us into itself, as not to prove unfruitful.</p>
</blockquote>
The Genesis Debate2014-08-18T22:00:00-04:002014-08-18T22:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-08-18:/2014/earth-age-inerrancy.htmlWith reference to history, witness, and textual issues, an argument for greater humility in the discussion of the meaning of Genesis 1, and particular for a willingness to be charitable to those with whom we disagree.<p><i class="editorial">A brief note on the title: I unabashedly stole it from D.A. Carson’s very helpful little book, <a href="[] http://www.amazon.com/The-Inclusive-Language-Debate-Plea-Realism/dp/080105835X "><cite>The Inclusive Language Debate: A Plea For Realism</cite></a>, which is a good read and has a title I thought apropos. Now: on to the post’s business!</i></p>
<hr />
<section id="clarifying-remarks" class="level2">
<h2>Clarifying Remarks</h2>
<section id="the-point-of-this-post" class="level3">
<h3>The point of this post</h3>
<p>I want you to walk away persuaded that there is room for a (much) wider degree of disagreement on the age of the earth and the details of creation than many evangelical and fundamentalist leaders sometimes assert—and indeed, that this has been the case historically.</p>
<p>I am <em>not</em> particularly interested in persuading you that my particular view of the age of the earth is correct, or indeed that you ought to change your views at all. I just want you to walk away with an appreciation for the points to consider on the topic, and hopefully encouraged about the open door for future development of Christian thought on this complex and interesting issue.</p>
</section>
<section id="my-take" class="level3">
<h3>My take</h3>
<p>Let me get a few things out of the way, right up front—I want you to know where I am coming from:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>I believe the Bible is God’s revelation of himself to us, and that when we read the Bible we are actually reading God’s word. As such, I affirm the inerrancy of Scripture. I do <em>not</em> necessarily affirm anyone’s favorite articulation of that important doctrine.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a><a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a></li>
<li>I am an old-earth creationist. I affirm that the universe is most likely somewhere in the neighborhood of 14 billion years old, that the earth formed about 5 billion years ago, and that there is an enormous well of geological history from which there actually are things Christians can learn.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a></li>
<li>I do not in principle have an issue with God having used nearly any means to bring about the present biological state of the world we observe.</li>
<li>I believe that Adam and Eve really did commit original sin, leading all of humanity into the bondage from which Jesus Christ delivered us in his incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension.</li>
<li>I do not see these position as inherently contradictory—though many of my friends, peers, and even pastors disagree.</li>
<li>I think that Christians run two serious risks in this area: capitulating to the assertions of a world that we know to be hostile to the things of God, and rejecting real God-given knowledge and wisdom in ways that unnecessarily compromise our witness and cause us to miss out on things God wanted us to know about himself and his world. While the former of these risks is indeed more serious, ignoring the second risk puts us in hot water quite regularly as well.</li>
</ol>
<p>Now, onto the meat of the post!</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="the-boundaries" class="level2">
<h2>The Boundaries</h2>
<p>This discussion is complicated by several major issues. First, readings of Genesis 1–11 have been enormously varied over the history of the church. Second, the narratives directly intersect with scientific data in ways that much of the rest of the Scriptures do not. Closely related to this is a third point: the complexity of the essential texts themselves.</p>
<section id="history" class="level3">
<h3>History</h3>
<p>On this first bit: suffice it to say that the church’s view of the days of creation has been extremely <em>varied</em> over the last two thousand years. It is common today to hear evangelical leaders (notably including but not limited to Al Mohler and Ken Ham) suggesting that denial of six 24-hour days of creation is tantamount to a denial of the inerrancy of Scripture. In the history of the church, such a position is novel, to say the least. In addition to the oft-cited Augustine quote on the matter, countless others have affirmed non-24-hour day views.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> Importantly, this number includes such modern luminaries as B. B. Warfield and J. Gresham Machen—no wobbly-kneed capitulators to modernism or feeble falterers on inerrancy they, but both affirmed the “day-age” view of the days of creation, <em>not</em> six 24-hour days.<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a></p>
<p>To be sure, simply pointing to authorities’ takes on the position does not tell us what Scripture teaches (and indeed to do so is to commit the fallacy of argument from authority!), but it <em>should</em> provide us with a degree of caution in making pronouncements about the bounds of orthodox opinion. More, it ought to give us pause when we start to identify our own interpretations with the bounds of orthodoxy or even the bounds of inerrancy. It is perfectly reasonable to suggest that those who have gone before us were mistaken (as indeed I think some of them were). It is something else entirely to suggest that they were not only mistaken but were all of them somehow rejecting the inerrancy or authority of Scripture simply because their positions do not accord with our own. In particular, when Warfield and Machen affirm an old earth, we would do well to recognize that any interpretation of inerrancy which excludes dogmatically an old earth is inherently problematic.</p>
<p>Note well: I am not making here any comment at all on what the age of the earth is, nor even on whether we should or should not affirm an old earth view is within the bounds allowed by Scripture. I am simply calling for a dose of humility in the face of the reality of centuries of witness that differ from the line taken by many evangelicals and fundamentalists today.</p>
</section>
<section id="scripture-and-science" class="level3">
<h3>Scripture and Science</h3>
<p>There are only a few areas in which the things the Bible says intersect directly with the findings of natural science. This is one of them. To be sure, there are many ways in which God’s revelation informs (or at least, should inform!) Christians’ view of the world around us and the value of scientific undertakings. Moreover, our affirmation of a supernatural character to the world means we will reject certain ideologies—hard naturalism is simply an untenable stance for us. That being said, though, the early chapters of Genesis are one of the only places in Scripture where the natural sciences and the Bible speak directly to the same issues.</p>
<p>In Genesis, we have an account of the creation of the world and the origin of humankind. The natural sciences<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a> also give us an account of the creation of the world and the origin of humankind. Whether the two do or can be made to agree is one of the major points of contention not only among Christians but also between many secularists and believers: simply witness the barbed critiques of Christianity at the hands of the New Atheists over the last decade, many of them aimed directly at this point.</p>
<p>In most conflict-ridden areas of our lives and public witness, Christians stand opposed to the <em>moral</em> positions of the world around us. In this area, we stand at least potentially in opposition to an quite different aspect of the world: the pursuit of natural knowledge. True: all orthodox Christians grant that the human mind is in some ways “fallen” and therefore unable to properly apprehend all truth. At the same time, we <em>also</em> affirm that even the fallen mind is the mind of a being made <em>imago dei</em> and situated in a world made rationally by a wise God. We believe that we see in the “book of nature” the handiwork of our creator, and in our own minds the apex of that creation. We affirm that there is a great body of knowledge available to all human beings, that our minds still allow us to understand the world around us <em>rightly</em> even if incompletely.</p>
<p>More than that, we believe that it is precisely because of God’s handiwork on display that all humans stand accountable before him; Paul reminds us that we are all without excuse because creation itself points to the existence of God.</p>
<p>We therefore ought to hesitate before suggesting that the many scientists who have read th book of nature to suggest an old earth are simply victims of the fall. It is one thing to suggest that the evidence can be misread: of course this is so. It is something else to suggest that nearly all astronomers and geologists, Christian and non-Christian alike, are simply deluded. This is an incredibly strong claim, and the evidence is on those who would advance it to back it up—not simply to assert it.</p>
<p>The reality is that we face an area of tension here. The most straightforward reading of Genesis 1–11 is that of a young Earth which was covered in a worldwide flood. The most straightforward reading of the natural record is of an ancient Earth scarred by many catastrophes (but not, as near as we can tell, a global flood). These two readings stand in tension with each other. It is easiest to collapse the tension one way or the other: to dismiss modern science as a dangerous delusion, or to dismiss the early chapters of Genesis as mere mythology. I think <em>both</em> of these are missteps, and both fail to do justice to the seriousness which the topic deserves.</p>
<section id="public-witness" class="level4">
<h4>Public Witness</h4>
<p>One corollary of this is that our stance on the relationship between science and Scripture impinges on our public witness in unique ways. When as believers we suggest that all of modern science’s readings of the book of nature are delusional, we are doing more than critiquing the findings of that science. We are speaking of those who <em>conduct</em> the science. The timbre of much discussion of non-young-earth views among evangelicals and fundamentalists is one of implicit or explicit suspicion that “those secularists” are waging a war against the truth. I heartily affirm that there really are spiritual forces at work opposing the truth of God—both internal and external to human nature itself. That being said, perhaps we ought to be careful when asserting that the <em>only</em> reason someone might disagree with our reading of Genesis 1–11 is Satanic delusion.</p>
<p>We unnecessarily hinder our witness when we make disagreement on this point a matter of conspiracy or willful opposition to the truth. Whether the young-earth creationist is right or wrong, the assumption that those who disagree with him are conspirators or blinded by lies is astoundingly arrogant. It leaves no room whatsoever for the notion that one <em>might actually be wrong</em>. It is far more profitable to grapple with the tensions in our positions, whatever those positions may be.<a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> Failing to do unnecessarily leaves us without any credibility at all.</p>
<p>Let me be clear: I am willing to be taken as non-credible by the world around me. Wherever Scripture demands that we stand against the world, I will do so. My question is simply this: Does Scripture demand that here? Or is it simply <em>my interpretation</em> that demands it? If the latter, it behooves me to offer others a more charitable interpretation.<a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a> Perhaps they are not hostile conspirators or pitiably deluded fools after all.</p>
<p>As a friend of mine (who characterizes himself as ‘an empirical agnostic atheist’) put it some months ago:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I would have a lot more respect for that group [Ken Ham and Anwers in Genesis] if they could just say “we believe that Earth is only a few thousand years old, and we recognize that our current scientific understanding strongly indicates otherwise, but at this time we just can’t reconcile the discrepancy” instead of “secularist have hijacked science to mislead you into thinking Earth is older than it actually is.”<a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a></p>
</blockquote>
<p>He is right: it takes a great deal more humility to say, “Look, I recognize the trouble with my position, and I hold it nonetheless” than to say, “There is no trouble with my position!” in the face of all evidence to the contrary. We can facilely pretend that any opposition we receive is simply the result of our faithfulness to the truth—or we can recognize that sometimes, we <em>earn</em> hostility from the world because of our own lack of charity and superciliousness.</p>
<p>(For the record, that has been me, too many times to count. I am not pointing my finger at young-earth creationists here; I am pointing it right at the man in the mirror. I have alienated my fair share and then some of non-Christians by my intransigence and my accusatory attitude. God forgive me.)</p>
<p>The old earth creationist has to face up to the fact that his reading of the Bible is less natural than the young earth creationist’s. The young earth creationist has to face up to the fact that her reading of the world is less natural than that of the old earth creationist’s. Can we not simply be so honest as to admit as much? All of our positions have weaknesses. One of them is right (or at least, <em>more</em> right), and we can hold them confidently and even boldly—but we do not need to assume that those with whom we differ are either the victims or the perpetrators of some conspiracy to hide the real truth.<a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a></p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="textual-issues" class="level3">
<h3>Textual Issues</h3>
<p>The crux of this issue in many ways is what exactly the text says in Genesis. On this, I want again to suggest not that you embrace my particular interpretation but that you recognize the need for humility in dealing with the particular passages in question.</p>
<p>It is common among young-earth creationists to assert that the days of Genesis 1 are <em>obviously</em> meant to be taken as literal 24-hour days. Those holding this view point to the use of the Hebrew word <em>yom</em> translated “day” here. The word most commonly refers to 24-hour days, and all but one other time when put in context with the words for “evening” and “morning” which punctuate the text in Genesis (“and there was evening, and there was morning, the first day…”) certainly refer to such a span.</p>
<p>However, there are a number of reasons why we should be cautious in making such an assertion with any degree of dogmatism. First, the very first time <em>yom</em> appears after this is Genesis 2:4, where it very certainly does <em>not</em> refer to a 24-hour period. Second, the days certainly were not all <em>solar</em> days if we take the passage at face value. (This is not to say they were not 24 hours long, only that the first three were apparently not solar days per the straightforward reading of the text.)</p>
<p>Third, and most important, is the question of genre. There is a clear and distinct shift in language between the elevated prose of Genesis 1 and the more normal historical narrative language of Genesis 2 and following.<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a> The first chapter is not poetry, but it makes heavy use of standard Hebrew poetic devices, especially repetition, in ways that set it off from what follows. The clear shift between the two should caution us</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p>There is a <em>lot</em> of room for disagreement on the specifics of this issue. While there are some lines we should not cross, those lines are much broader than some evangelical and fundamentalist leaders often suggest. One can be a thoroughgoing evangelical with a deep commitment to the inerrancy of Scripture and believe the earth old and even—dare I say it—that God used gradual means to bring about the biological diversity of the planet.<a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a> Whether affirming the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Framework_interpretation_(Genesis)">Framework Hypothesis</a>, a <a href="http://biologos.org/resources/multimedia/john-walton-on-understanding-genesis" title="John Walton on Understanding Genesis">functional account of origins</a> interpretation, a <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/science-the-bible-and-the-promised-land">preparation of the land</a> view, a <a href="http://www.reasons.org/explore/topic/age-of-the-earth">day-age</a> view, or with the Fathers yet other readings, there are <em>many</em> legitimate ways of reading Genesis 1 apart from literal 24-hour days, and all of them within the bounds not only of orthodoxy but also of the affirmation of inerrancy.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I also do not think that one must affirm inerrancy to be a healthy Christian—though I <em>do</em> think it is quite helpful and important, I do <em>not</em> think it is essential for salvation or indeed for a great deal of sanctification.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>In particular, I have not spent enough time thinking carefully about the ramifications of e.g. the Chicago Statement on Inerrancy to know whether I can affirm it meticulously.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>For those of you “in the know” I basically take John Sailhamer’s “preparation of the land” view of Genesis 1.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>If you want a detailed exploration of the history of the church’s intepretation of the creation account in particular for its first millennium and a half, see Robert Letham, “‘In the Space of Six Days’: The Days of Creation from Origen to the Westminster Assembly,” WTS 61:2 (1999) 149–174.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>Warfield helped formulate our modern explications of the doctrine, and Machen was one of its firmest defenders in the modernist controversy that embroiled the American denominations early in the 20th century; he quite literally stands at the head of the fundamentalist tradition that spanned the 20th century.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>And particularly, what used to be called “natural history,” as my friend <a href="http://www.vernonking.org">Vernon King</a> pointed out in a recent conversation.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>For my part, I have to deal with the fact that the most straightforward reading is <em>not</em> the old-earth reading of the text, and <em>especially</em> with the difficulty of reading something besides an actually global flood in the Flood narrative. I fully grant that this is the weakness of my position.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>More on this below in the <a href="#textual-issues">Textual Issues</a> section below.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>Private correspondence with Jerrad Genson, February 12, 2014.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>And yes: here I <em>am</em> calling out Ken Ham a bit. Every time he and his fellow travelers assert that the evidence <em>obviously</em> points to a young earth and a global flood, they are being remarkably uncharitable to anyone who disagrees with them—and remarkably arrogant.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>Note: this still very much leaves the old-earth creationist with problems with the Flood and Noah’s Ark, which are part of the latter, historical section. It is difficult, if not impossible, to draw a strong line between the literary character of Genesis 2–11 and that of Genesis 12ff.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>A final aside, with <em>every</em> intent to be provocative: consider that given the physical limitations of the ark Noah built, God <em>certainly</em> had to engage in a massive program of theistic evolution to repopulate the earth after a global flood. See <a href="https://answersingenesis.org/natural-selection/speciation/">here</a> for an example of the sort of evasion of the issue that goes on at Answers in Genesis dealing with precisely this issue. This is the worst sort of hair-splitting. Again: we should have the intellectual integrity to admit the weaknesses of our positions.<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>On Michael Gungor, who sparked this whole discussion this time around— To be clear, I think Michael Gungor is mistaken about Genesis 1–11. I think a mythologizing reading of those chapters is textually misguided and spiritually unhelpful. But I also think that he might have landed in a position more like the one I embrace—a position that affirms both the inerrancy of Scripture <em>and</em> an old earth—if such an option had been presented to him coherently, rather than ruled out by young earth creationists as just as heretical and dangerous as the mythological view. I do <em>not</em> think Michael Gungor is a heretic; I simply think he is wrong on this in ways that may set his feet on an unhelpful trajectory—and I hope that he might have conversations with folks who can help him come to reconcile the inerrancy of Scripture with an old earth.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Patriotism and the Church2014-07-04T11:30:00-04:002014-07-04T11:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-07-04:/2014/patriotism-and-the-church.html<p>A few days ago, Trevin Wax shared a <a href="http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/trevinwax/2014/07/02/why-younger-evangelicals-may-feel-uneasy-in-a-patriotic-church-service/" title="Why Younger Evangelicals May Feel Uneasy in a Patriotic Church Service">thoughtful article</a> on younger evangelicals’ discomfort with patriotic services, noting:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>On the one hand, pastors want to demonstrate their gratitude toward those who have served their country well – heroes who put themselves in harm’s way for the good of their neighbors …</p></blockquote><p>A few days ago, Trevin Wax shared a <a href="http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/trevinwax/2014/07/02/why-younger-evangelicals-may-feel-uneasy-in-a-patriotic-church-service/" title="Why Younger Evangelicals May Feel Uneasy in a Patriotic Church Service">thoughtful article</a> on younger evangelicals’ discomfort with patriotic services, noting:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>On the one hand, pastors want to demonstrate their gratitude toward those who have served their country well – heroes who put themselves in harm’s way for the good of their neighbors. They are patriotic citizens who love their country and don’t want to be seen as contributing to cynicism or apathy.</p>
<p>On the other hand, pastors express reservations about incorporating patriotic songs and anthems into a worship service. They worry that too many people are already confused about the relationship between Christianity and the culture, the church and the country, and that such services exacerbate the problem.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He suggested four basic reasons for this discomfort and confusion:</p>
<blockquote>
<ol type="1">
<li>Extreme Experiences in the Past</li>
<li>Decreasing Patriotism Among Millennials</li>
<li>Shifting Cultural Currents</li>
<li>Failure to Fully Appreciate Time and Place</li>
</ol>
</blockquote>
<p>His analysis of the overall situation was fairly helpful, and I recommend you read it. However, in his final point, he argued:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Some younger evangelicals see any patriotic expression as a compromise with worldly power. Their approach is to take the flag out of the sanctuary, never sing a patriotic song, and never mention a patriotic holiday.</p>
<p>I think this overreaction has unfortunate and unintended repercussions. It lends itself to a Gnostic idea that downplays our embodied state (as humans) within a state (a nation). We are rooted in time and place, and this is according to God’s good plan.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Unfortunately, I think Wax gets this wrong, and younger evangelicals get it basically right, at least <em>in the context of the church</em>. It is one thing to say that when younger evangelicals reject any sense of patriotism at all, that is an unhealthy and unhelpful move. If Wax had stopped there, I would have agreed with him. We do undervalue our embodied context and we do need a greater sense of the goodness of our geographical and temporal contexts in God’s providence. We certainly should be grateful the blessings of liberty that we enjoy, and I think as Americans we ought to celebrate those things. Independence Day (and other similar holidays such as Memorial Day and Veterans Day) are parts of our culture in which we as Christians ought to participate. We should participate in a chastened way, perhaps, recognizing the mixed legacy of our nation’s history, but we should participate.</p>
<p>But we should not participate <em>when we act as the church</em>. On Sunday morning, we should never be singing the Star Spangled Banner, because we gather precisely to proclaim our allegiance to a king and our citizenship to a kingdom that transcends national borders just as it transcends ethnicity and culture. It does not <em>blur out</em> those differences, but it does not set that as ultimate or allow allegiance to them. We can see that an anthem to Asian or Caucasian or Black ethnicity would be inappropriate in the church (even as we affirm the goodness of Asian, Caucasian, Black, and other ethnicities and cultures). Singing patriotic songs in the church or preaching a sermon on American history is no less inappropriate. It divides precisely where the gospel calls us to unity.</p>
<p>This is ultimately about a confusion of spheres. The church is the place where the kingdom of God has broken into the present age. The nation-state is the place where his reign has not yet been established. Confusing the two does no one any good. We long for the day when every nation <em>is</em> part of the kingdom of heaven, but if we blur out the distinctions between the two <em>today</em>, we will produce confusion and unhealthy attitudes toward on or the other.</p>
<p>To take one obvious example: Wax notes that younger evangelicals seem uncomfortable with God-and-country language—and younger evangelicals are <em>right</em> to be uncomfortable with such language. Whenever we have conflated the work of God in the spread of the gospel to America, we have ended up in all sorts of confusion. We end up political servants to one party or the other, making all sorts of un-Christian ethical compromises along the way. We end up affirming approaches to foreign and domestic policy that bear little resemblance to the ethic of Christ we are taught by the apostles. To pick just one specific-but-controversial example: we find it hard to remember that we have more in common with our Palestinian brothers and sisters in Christ than with our non-Christian Israeli friends.</p>
<p>We should never hang an American flag in our churches. We should never sing the national anthem in our churches. We should never leave any doubt when we gather together that we come as one people, joined in Christ across every line that exists in this world: ethnic, cultural, linguistic, geographical, political, temporal. We should never, ever confuse our joyful embrace of our being situated in this place and time with our ultimate allegiance to a kingdom still to come. We should skip the patriotic services and take the opportunity instead to remind people both that every blessing we have in this nation is from God <em>and</em> that this nation is but one of many lands of sojourn for his people. We should teach each other to be glad that this is our land, but to look with all the more longing toward our future home when all nations will bring their treasures into the New Jerusalem. We should <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oEiXrRmtDIk&feature=kp" title="Land of My Sojourn">with Rich Mullins</a> say that we will call this our country and be longing for our home.</p>
A Just and Merciful God2014-06-30T08:00:00-04:002014-06-30T08:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-06-30:/2014/a-just-and-merciful-god.htmlGod is holy and we ought not ignore his word. He is merciful—and we ought not ignore his word!<p>My devotional life has been a bit up and down the last few months. It is easy to let it drop off in the midst of all the busyness of the end of a semester, and easy, too, in the midst of caring for a new baby and a recovering wife simply not to find the time for it. But my soul needs to encounter the living God day by day.</p>
<p>Today’s reading was not exactly scintillating in many ways: reading in Chronicles rarely is. But as I have often reflected in the past several years, Paul had in mind the Old Testament—books like this and Numbers and Leviticus, those we find hardest!—when he told us that <em>all</em> Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for us (2 Tim. 3:16). That is no less true of Chronicles’ recounting of the deeds of David’s mighty men or the assembly of Israel to anoint him king than it is of the gospel accounts of Jesus’ life and death. We need all of these pieces to fully understand the work of God.</p>
<p>A few points I take away from my reading this morning:</p>
<section id="god-is-holy." class="level4">
<h4>God is holy.</h4>
<p>There are two accounts that make this abundantly clear in the section I read today: the death of Uzzah, the judgment on David for his sin with the census. In the case of Uzzah, God brooked no deviation from his clearly articulated correct way for the transportation of the Ark of the Covenant. That Uzzah meant well did not change the reality that he (and indeed all of David’s initial foray to bring the Ark to Jerusalem) had ignored what God had said. Ignoring God’s word is no light matter. We sometimes blanch at the severity of this judgment, but to ignore when God speaks is to make light of his speech—to insult him and quietly rebel in precisely the same way our first parents did in the Garden. It is to say our own wisdom is sufficient when he has expressly given us <em>his</em> wisdom.</p>
<p>The second case, God’s judgment for David’s census, is interesting in that the text does not expressly tell us what David’s sin was, yet it is obvious that he did sin and in such a way as to anger God profoundly. Joab, who was instructed to carry out the census, clearly understood that it was wrong; so did David. Given the backdrop of the regulations of censuses in the Pentateuch, it seems that David was going about it for the wrong reasons, and without following the pattern God had laid out.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Yet David went ahead anyway. God responded in judgment. Again: it came down to a simple refusal to do as God had instructed.</p>
<p>These two accounts remind me that I must obey God. It is as plain and simple as that—whatever the circumstances, whatever apparent justification I might muster for doing otherwise, I need to obey. God is holy; he does not brook unrighteousness. Yes, he has atoned for my unrighteousness, but this was true of David as well (see below). I am still called to live in obedience to him, and insofar as I lead, I am responsible to lead others to do so as well.</p>
</section>
<section id="god-is-merciful." class="level4">
<h4>God is merciful.</h4>
<p>This second passage of judgment also highlights God’s mercy. Yahweh sent the angel to bring destruction on the people for David’s sin, but Yahweh <em>relented</em>, too—and this before David did anything at all. Sometimes we can make the mistake in reading the Old Testament of thinking that Yahweh had always to be appeased <em>before</em> he would turn back from his righteous judgments, but the reality is the opposite. The vast majority of the time, Yahweh relented simply because of his forbearance and mercy and patience. Many times when the people clearly had not yet relented, the pleas of one righteous person on their behalf led him to stay his hand. Other times, like here, he stayed his judgment without <em>anyone</em> standing in that position—simply because he is merciful.</p>
<p>It was this reality with whicih Paul wrestled “out loud,” so to speak, in Romans: how can a just God overlook sins? How can he just pass over and <em>not</em> execute judgment when judgment is so clearly deserved?<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> The answer for Paul was not to make less of the sin God passed over, but to make that much more of Christ. The Old Testament believers like David were saved by the death and resurrection of Christ just as we are. We are called to faith and trust in the one who has made it possible for the righteousness of God to be cause for our <em>hope</em> rather than despair. And here is the flipside of the call to obey God’s word inherent in those earlier passages: the call to <em>trust</em> God as he has spoken to us. This is good news, if we will but believe it and cling to it.</p>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>See J. A. Thompson, <em>1, 2 Chronicles</em>, vol. 9, The New American Commentary (Nashville: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 1994), 160.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>What a contrast to our own reasoning, in an age when we can hardly conceive of the notion of deserved judgment.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
The "New" Covenant2014-05-11T20:00:00-04:002014-05-11T20:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-11:/2014/the-new-covenant.htmlAlthough it is tempting to view the New Covenant promised by Jeremiah as marking a sharp break with what came before, a careful reading of the text points us in another direction.<p>It is common for pastors, popular teachers, and even some scholars to treat the ‘New Covenant’ of Jeremiah 31 as something wholly distinct from the previous covenants. In this reading, the New Covenant is specific to the work of Christ in the New Testament age, and was never experienced by any “Old Testament believers”. Those believers remained under the previous (Abrahamic and especially Mosaic and Davidic) covenants, while New Testament believers are New Covenant believers. For this view, they draw on the ways that the New Covenant language was picked up by the authors of the New Testament, especially in Hebrews.</p>
<p>Though this reading has an ancient pedigree, going back at least as far as Jerome, it is ultimately incorrect. First, it fails to take the content of Jeremiah’s vision on its own terms. As Jeremiah traces out his vision of the New Covenant in chapters 31–33, he explicitly includes the language of law-keeping, temple working and priests, and a Davidic king over the land of Israel. These were not merely symbolic expectations, but fully fleshed out hopes for and visions of a restoration of the covenant God made with Israel at Sinai. Indeed, the terms of priestly temple sacrifice and law-keeping used throughout the section presuppose the covenant language of Deuteronomy and the discussion in Deuteronomy 30 of the circumcised heart. Thus, Hill and Walton note (and likewise Thomas suggested) that in many ways it is more appropriate to speak of a <em>renewed</em> covenant than of a totally <em>new</em> covenant.</p>
<p>Second, the reading of the ‘New Covenant’ as <em>wholly</em> new misses the ways the other authors of the Old Testament responded to this promise. In particular, Ezra’s prayer in Ezra-Nehemiah makes it abundantly clear that he considered the people’s return to the land after their 70-year-exile a fulfillment of the prophecy. If it was not a complete fulfillment—as indeed that same prayer acknowledges, for the people’s hearts were still wayward—it nonetheless represented at least a partial fulfillment. There were once again Jewish people living in the land, performing temple sacrifice and following Yahweh. Though the Davidic king had not yet been reinstated, and though the people’s hearts had not yet had the law so thoroughly stamped on them that they no longer needed teachers, the promise was partly fulfilled.</p>
<p>Third, even in the age after Christ’s coming it is clear that the vision remains only fulfilled in part. True: there was a significant break in the shape of history in the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of the Son. Yet God’s law is not yet written so thoroughly on anyone’s heart that no man needs to teach his neighbor. Christians still wrestle with sin. Moreover, as the author of Hebrews notes, this Davidic king who fulfills the New Covenant hopes has not yet put everything in subjection under his feet (Heb. 2). He is seated at the right hand of God, exalted above the heavens, and has inaugurated his reign, but he has not yet <em>consummated</em> reign. The same author who affirms so strongly that Jesus is the fulfillment of the New Covenant hope affirms as well that the New Covenant is not yet fully completed. The ancient Jews lived in an “already but not yet” after the return from Exile. In the work of Christ, that “already” is significantly advanced—but the “not yet” remains until he returns.</p>
<p>This is not to say that there is <em>nothing</em> new about the New Covenant. Unlike in Deuteronomy 30, where the people were enjoined to repent and circumcise their own hearts, the work in Jeremiah’s vision is wholly God’s. Too, the New Testament’s embrace of New Covenant language in terms of Jesus’ work means that Christians <em>should</em> understand that something new has happened in Christ. Specifically, Christ has done what Israel could not. Jesus kept the law perfectly, needing no one to teach him; he served as both priest and sacrifice to make atonement for the sins of the people; he rules and judges righteously as the Davidic Branch who represents Yahweh; he even reconstituted Israel in his twelve disciples. Jesus Messiah <em>is</em> the fulfillment of the New Covenant. He is the hope toward which the Old Testament saints looked.</p>
<p>Augustine, not Jerome, had the right of it. All the Old Testament saints were participants in the New Covenant. They looked forward to that which they did not see, but they too were saved by faith in Christ. They did not have the full revelation with which New Testament saints are blessed. They saw from far off that of which Christians now enjoy the fullness. But Jesus’ work in bringing about the New Covenant was not something foreign to the covenants that had gone before; it was the fulfillment of all of them. Here was the offspring of the woman who would crush the serpent’s head, the offspring of Abraham in whom all nations would be blessed, the prophet like Moses who would give the law anew, the true Israel who would keep the law rightly, the offspring of David who would do justice for his people and for the nations. Jeremiah’s New Covenant promised the fulfillment of what had gone before. It was new in that Jesus finally accomplished what no Israelite ever had. It was the renewal of the old in that what Jesus accomplished was precisely the hope set before Israel from the beginning.</p>
The Uniqueness of the Incarnation2014-05-06T08:15:00-04:002014-05-06T08:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-06:/2014/the-uniqueness-of-the-incarnation.htmlThe Incarnation itself is essential and central in God's work in the life of believers. It must never be obscured, diminished, or denied.
<section id="i.-the-centrality-and-uniqueness-of-the-incarnation" class="level2">
<h2>I. The Centrality and Uniqueness of the Incarnation</h2>
<p>The Incarnation of the Son of God is the ground of all Christian hope. It is the “central miracle asserted by Christians.”<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Without the Incarnation, there would be no salvation. Not only would the other aspects of redemption (Christ’s life, teaching, death on the cross, resurrection, and ascension) not be possible, but parts of the restoration of humanity hinge on the Incarnation itself. The Incarnation was a unique event in history, with unique theological significance. At no other time has God manifested himself as a human being. The Spirit’s present indwelling of all believers is a direct result of and carries forward the reconciliation of divinity and humanity that occured in the person of Jesus Christ. A healthy church depends on a healthy Christology, for it is only in Christ and by Christ’s Spirit that the church exists—and there can be no healthy Christology without a robust doctrine of the Incarnation. It is in the Incarnation that Jesus the Messiah must be understood: a single person uniting all that it is to be God and all that it is to be human.</p>
<section id="a.-biblical-affirmations" class="level3">
<h3>A. Biblical Affirmations</h3>
<p>Each of the Gospels opens in a way that emphasizes the unique nature of Jesus Christ. Matthew begins with a genealogy that situates him in the story of Israel, then immediately shows in narrative that from his conception he was also divine (Matt. 1–2, esp. 1:1, 1:23). Mark, ever brief, introduces the Messiah with the astounding words, “Jesus Christ, the Son of God” (Mark 1:1).<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> Luke inverts Matthew’s order: miraculous birth first, genealogy second. He situations Jesus not only in Israel’s story but in humanity’s, tracing his lineage to Adam (Luke 1:26–28, 2:8–38, 3:23–38). John reaches out to Greek philosophy and turns it on its head, proclaiming the coming of the uncreated <em>logos</em> into creation (John 1:1–18). The sum effect of the gospel-tellers is to emphasize that in Jesus Christ, something profoundly unique had happened.</p>
<p>Perhaps nowhere are the importance and uniqueness of the Incarnation more evident than in the Epistle to the Hebrews. The anonymous letter emphasizes from its first words the uniqueness of Jesus’ incarnation and ministry (Heb. 1:1–2). It argues that the Incarnation was essential to his roles as priest (2:17–18, 4:15, 5:5–10, 7:26–8:2), destroyer of death (2:14–15), and propitiatory sacrifice (2:9, 7:27, 9:11–28, 10:12–14, 10:19–22). It is not only that Jesus died to save people from their sins, but that he became human and lived to that end and more besides—a consistent theme throughout the New Testament. Thus, Zechariah’s prophecy (Luke 1:76–79) includes salvation from sin, but also light coming into the world, death’s power coming to an end, and peace reigning in the cosmos. Likewise, John couples the Incarnation to the doctrine of adoption (John 1:12). Paul exults in the Incarnation as the grounds of the reconciliation of all things, humanity included (Col 1:19–20). Moreover, he explicitly couples the Messiah’s full humanity to humans being filled in him in turn (Col. 2:9–10)—a theme Peter picks up as well, noting that the saints actually become “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4).</p>
<p>In short, the New Testament affirms that the Incarnation itself was an essential element in the salvation of humanity—not merely as a prerequisite for other parts of Christ’s work. The Incarnation is the means by which human nature is brought once again into fellowship with the Godhead. Christ is the eschatological firstfruits of this restoration. As he is, so will all the saints be in glory: restored to unbroken fellowship between humanity and humanity’s Creator.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="b.-the-theology-of-the-church" class="level3">
<h3>B. The Theology of the Church</h3>
<p>The importance of the Incarnation has been affirmed by the church throughout her history. The Church Fathers fleshed out the orthodox doctrine of the Incarnation over the first four centuries of the history of the church, with various controversies erupting every century.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> This work culminated in the lasting affirmations and denials of the Chalcedonian formula.<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a> In fact, nearly every theological controversy in the early church was a Christological controversy, and every such controversy hinged on issues pertaining to the nature of the Incarnation. The Fathers recognized that the details of God’s becoming man were essentials of the faith. The hope of human salvation would be lost entirely if Jesus were not a single person in whom “all the fullness of deity dwells bodily” (Col. 2:9) and who “likewise partook of [flesh and blood]” (Heb. 2:14).<a href="#fn6" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref6" role="doc-noteref"><sup>6</sup></a></p>
<p>Incarnational thoelogizing did not end in the patristic period; it has remained foundational for further reflection on the natures of God and humanity. Indeed, patristic theology has been influential on nearly every major orthodox theologian since the Reformation—whether directly or mediated by the Reformers. Athanasius’ Christology, with its emphasis on the transformational effect of the Incarnation itself on humanity’s state,<a href="#fn7" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref7" role="doc-noteref"><sup>7</sup></a> has proven particularly influential. If advocates of “incarnational” theologies have sometimes pressed this recovery in unhelpful directions (see below), they have also provided a helpful reminder of what God’s becoming man has <em>already</em> accomplished: the first step of the eschatological transformation of humanity. “The crucified Christ stands in solidarity with humanity, not merely as ane xample of confrontation with the world to be imitated by us <em>but as the reality of new humanity in which we may and must participate</em>.”<a href="#fn8" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref8" role="doc-noteref"><sup>8</sup></a> Jesus’ humanity is an essential ingredient in human salvation and in the sanctified life of the believer in the present—the Spirit mediating Christ’s humanity to the believer’s—as well as of a glorified reality in the future.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="ii.-in-life-and-ministry" class="level2">
<h2>II. In Life and Ministry</h2>
<p>Given the importance—indeed, the essential character—of the doctrine of the Incarnation, it is clear that the church must strive to maintain the doctrine. It is insufficent only to affirm it in principle; the church must cherish this reality in practice and protect it from loss. Unfortunately, both in the Western church broadly and in evangelicalism in particular, the centrality and uniqueness of the Incarnation have sometimes been lost through neglect or abuse.</p>
<section id="a.-absence" class="level3">
<h3>A. Absence</h3>
<p>The church may first of all fail with regard to its theology of the Incarnation by losing it, whether by doctrinal negation or by simple unobservance. The threat of outright denial of the doctrine has been dangerously common in church history. As noted above, many of the early Christological heresies relted directly to the nature of the Incarnation, and variations on these heresies have continued to arise to the present day. In the Reformation era, for example, the Anabaptist movement included many who affirmed a “heavenly flesh” view in which Jesus was not Mary’s descendant but sent from heaven without human parentage whatsoever—a loss of Christ’s full humanity. More recently, both Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses have affirmed adoptionist views—a loss of Christ’s full deity.</p>
<p>The anti-supernatural bent of many liberal theologies in the last several centuries has similarly resulted in a rejection of the doctrine of the Incarnation. For many liberals theologians, Jesus was representative of the God-consciousness in us all at its best and adopted by God as a special figure in human history accordingly.<a href="#fn9" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref9" role="doc-noteref"><sup>9</sup></a> Any such outright rejection clearly results in the loss of all that the doctrine entails—not least any hope of real salvation. If Jesus was merely a man who was particularly helpful or holy, he could not redeem other humans. He could at best set others a good example. His death and his resurrection<a href="#fn10" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref10" role="doc-noteref"><sup>10</sup></a> can have symbolic power only. They do not save. They inspire or impress at best, and intimidate with their inimitability at worst.</p>
<p>All such views leave those who embrace them without ultimate salvific hope. As Gregory Nazianzen commented during the Arian controversy, “For that which He has not assumed he has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved. If only half Adam fell, then that which Christ assumes and saves may be half also; but if the whole of his nature fell, it must be united to the whole nature of Him that was begotten, and so be saved as a whole.”<a href="#fn11" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref11" role="doc-noteref"><sup>11</sup></a></p>
<p>Though no conservative scholars would actively deny the importance of the Incarnation, their passive neeglect can be nearly as problematic. Sadly, the doctrine receives receives little attention among evangelicals. The crucicentric bent of the evangelical movement has often led to other aspects of the Son’s work being overlooked, so that the Incarnation, Resurrection, and Ascension of Christ are all often treated as mere prerequisites for or accessories to his atoning death.<a href="#fn12" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref12" role="doc-noteref"><sup>12</sup></a> Even when unintentional, this loss-by-neglect results in real problems in the church’s understanding of God’s work in Christ and humanity. Many of the borderline gnostic tendencies latent in evangelical theology eschatology, and the corresponding spiritualization and de-physicalization of evangelical eschatology, must be laid at least in part at the feet of a deficient theology of the Incarnation. This can only lead to a dimming of future hope—who really wants to be a disembodied spirit somehow strumming a harp forever?—which in turn produces real challenges in the life and faith of believers.</p>
</section>
<section id="b.-incarnational-theology-a-two-fold-error" class="level3">
<h3>B. “Incarnational Theology”: A Two-Fold Error</h3>
<p>The church may also err by misapplying its theology of the Incarnation. It has become increasingly common to speak of “incarnational theology” as a way of describing the Christian mission to the world: Christians ought to “incarnate” Christ to the world as Christ “incarnated” the Godhead to humanity.<a href="#fn13" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref13" role="doc-noteref"><sup>13</sup></a> There is much to appreciate in this sentiment. It represents an appropriate recognition that humans are God’s image-bearers. It pays heed to the New Testament’s assertion that Christians are representatives of Christ. It takes seriously Paul’s shocking language of “filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col. 1:24). It rightly points to the synthesis of missionary activity and social activism that represents the best of evangelicalism.<a href="#fn14" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref14" role="doc-noteref"><sup>14</sup></a> Yet for all that, applying the language of incarnation to believers is a serious mistake in two ways.</p>
<p>First, this kind of “incarnational” language is a misapplication of Paul’s “body” metaphor for the church, contra the proponents of “incarnational theology”, and notwithstanding Scripture’s many calls to imitate Christ.<a href="#fn15" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref15" role="doc-noteref"><sup>15</sup></a> Paul uniformly used the language to teach the unity of the people of God—never evangelism. The authors of the New Testament chose other images for proclaiming Christ instead: fishermen (Matt. 4:19), harvest workers (Luke 10:2), servants working in the absence of their master (Matt. 24:45–51), or ambassadors and representatives (2 Cor. 5:20)—to name just a few. At no point, though, does the Bible use the metaphor of the body to describe Christian witness to the world. Nor does it support the idea that ordinary men and women can mediate the presence of God to people. The Incarnation may (and indeed should) prompt evangelism, but this response is not itself “incarnational.” The people of God do not incarnate God the Son, but represent him in other ways. That does not negate the helpful instincts expressed in the incarnational theologizing of the last few years. It simply means that this doctrine can be expressed more accurately and helpfully.</p>
<p>Second, the church loses a great deal when incarnational theology is about anyone other than Jesus. God becoming man was an astounding and singular event. As Lewis commented, “It was the central event in the history of the Earth—the very thing that the whole story has been about.”<a href="#fn16" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref16" role="doc-noteref"><sup>16</sup></a> When theologians speak of “incarnating” Christ, the sheer shock of the event fades. The focus shifts from the Son’s work in humanity to the human response to the Son. The doctrine of the Incarnation above all ought to lead to worship born of reflection not on human endeavors, but on divine intervention to undo human brokenness.</p>
</section>
</section>
<section id="iii.-conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>III. Conclusion</h2>
<p>Both the centrality of the Incarnation and its uniqueness are essential to healthy Christian theology. A robust doctrine of the Incarnation leads to greater worship and deeper future hope. Understood rightly, it leads to deeper faith in the Word who “became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14), and so to more faithful obedience to the gospel. The believer seeks peace and justice and above all that others may know Christ not because the he himself incarnates Christ, but because the Incarnation has produced a radical transformation in his life (and in the lives of all who believe). “Christ gives his sanctified humanity to us, so that we may partake of him and his goodness…. God assumed our umanity in Jesus of Nazareth, healed our humanity with his own being, and gave our sanctified humanity back to us.”<a href="#fn17" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref17" role="doc-noteref"><sup>17</sup></a> The church must therefore take care to protect the doctrine, both from reject or loss through neglect and from misappropriations of the language of incarnation that distract from the work of the Son. The Incarnation itself is essential and central in God’s work in the life of believers. It must never be obscured, diminished, or denied.</p>
</section>
<section id="appendix-the-chalcedonian-definition" class="level1">
<h1>Appendix: The Chalcedonian Definition</h1>
<p><a href="#fn18" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref18" role="doc-noteref"><sup>18</sup></a>For the synod is opposed to those who presume to rend asunder the mystery of the Incarnation into a double Sonship, and it deposes from the priesthood those who dare to say that the Godhead of the Only-begotten is passible; and it withstands those who imagine a mixing or confusion of the two natures of Christ; and it drives away those who erroneously teach that the form of a servant which he took from us was of a heavenly or some other substance; and it anathematizes those who feign that the Lord had two natures before the union, but that these were fashioned into one after the union.</p>
<p>Wherefore, following the holy Fathers, we all with one voice confess our Lord Jesus Christ one and the same Son, the same perfect in Godhead, the same perfect in manhood, truly God and truly man, the same consisting of a reasonable soul and a body, of one substance with the Father as touching the Godhead, the same of one substance with us as touching the manhood, like us in all things apart from sin; begotten of the Father before the ages as touching the Godhead, the same in the last days, for us and for our salvation, born from the Virgin Mary, the Theotokos, as touching the manhood, one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, to be acknowledged in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation; the distinction of natures being in no way abolished because of the union, but rather the characteristic property of each nature being preserved, and concurring into one Person and one subsistence (ὑπόστασις), not as if Christ were parted or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son and only-begotten God, Word, Lord, Jesus Christ; even as the Prophets from the beginning spoke concerning him, and our Lord Jesus Christ instructed us, and the Creed of the Fathers has handed down to us.</p>
</section>
<section id="bibliography" class="level1">
<h1>Bibliography</h1>
<ul>
<li><p>Barnes, Kenneth A. “‘And the Word Became Flesh’: The Incarnation: A Model For Evangelism.” DMin diss., Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary,</p>
<ol start="1990" type="1">
<li></li>
</ol></li>
<li><p>Bultmann, Rudolf. “New Testament and Mythology: The Mythological Element in the Message of the New Testament and the Problem of its Reinterpretation.” In <em>Kerygma and Myth: A Theological Debate</em>. Edited by Hans Werner Bartch. Revised and translated by Reginald H. Fuller. 1953. Reprint, New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1961.</p></li>
<li><p>Clifford, Ross and Philip Johnson. <em>The Cross Is Not Enough: Living as Witnesses to the Resurrection</em>. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2012.</p></li>
<li><p>Darbyshire, David L. “Incarnational Evangelism: An Intentional Approach to Sharing the Good News in a Boundary Environment.” DMin diss., Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1989.</p></li>
<li><p>Langmead, Ross. <em>Word Made Flesh: Towards an Incarnational Missiology</em>. Lanham: University Press of America, Inc., 2004.</p></li>
<li><p>Letham, Robert. <em>The Holy Trinity: In Scripture, History, Theology, and Worship</em>. Phillipsburg: P&R, 2004.</p></li>
<li><p>Lewis, C. S. <em>Miracles: A Preliminary Study</em>. London: Geoffrey Bless, 1947.</p></li>
<li><p>Morris, Leon. <em>The Atonement: Its meaning and significance</em>. Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 1983.</p></li>
<li><p>William E. Pannell. “Evangelism: Solidarity and Reconciliation.” In <em>Incarnational Ministry: The Presence of Christ in Church, Society, and Family: Essays in Honor of Ray S. Anderson</em>, edited by Christian D. Kettler and Todd H. Speidell. Colorado Springs: Helmers & Howard, 1990.</p></li>
<li><p>Speidell, Todd H. “Incarnational Social Ethics.” In Speidell, 140–152.</p></li>
<li><p>Stevenson, James and B. J. Kidd, eds. <em>Creeds, Councils, and Controversies: Documents Illustrative of the History of the Church A.D. 337-461</em>. New York: Seabury Press, 1966.</p></li>
</ul>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>C. S. Lewis, <em>Miracles: A Preliminary Study</em> (London: Geoffrey Bless, 1947), 131.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Scripture citations throughout from the English Standard Version.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>Athanasius <em>On the Incarnation</em> 14, 20.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Justin Martyr <em>First Apology</em> (second century), Irenaeus <em>Against Heresies</em> (third century), Athanasius <em>On the Incarnation</em> (fourth century), Cyril of Alexandria, multiple volumes of works against Nestorianism (fifth century).<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>See Appendix: The Chalcedonian Definition.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn6" role="doc-endnote"><p>Gregory Nazianzen <em>Epistle CI</em>.<a href="#fnref6" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn7" role="doc-endnote"><p>Athanasius <em>On the Incarnation</em> 14, 44.<a href="#fnref7" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn8" role="doc-endnote"><p>Todd H. Speidell, “Incarnational Social Ethics,” in <em>Incarnational Ministry: The Presence of Christ in Church, Society, and Family: Essays in Honor of Ray S. Anderson</em>, eds. Christian D. Kettler and Todd H. Speidell (Colorado Springs: Helmers & Howard, 1990), 143. Emphasis mine.<a href="#fnref8" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn9" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Rudolf Bultmann, “New Testament and Mythology: The Mythological Element in the Message of the New Testament and the Problem of its Reinterpretation,” in <em>Kerygma and Myth: A Theological Debate</em>, ed. Hans Werner Bartch, rev. and trans. Reginald H. Fuller (1953; repr., New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1961), 33–35.<a href="#fnref9" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn10" role="doc-endnote"><p>The resurrection is of course customarily denied in such theologies as well.<a href="#fnref10" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn11" role="doc-endnote"><p>Gregory Nazianzen <em>Epistle CI</em>.<a href="#fnref11" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn12" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. the reduction of all of Christ’s works to aspects of the atonement in Leon Morris, <em>The Atonement: Its meaning and significance</em> (Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 1983); and see the similar critique in Ross Clifford and Philip Johnson, <em>The Cross Is Not Enough: Living as Witnesses to the Resurrection</em> (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2012).<a href="#fnref12" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn13" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. Ross Langmead, <em>Word Made Flesh: Towards an Incarnational Missiology</em> (Lanham: University Press of America, Inc., 2004), 9, 20, 36, 47–58; David L. Darbyshire, “Incarnational Evangelism: An Intentional Approach to Sharing the Good News in a Boundary Environment” (DMin diss., Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1989), 46–50; Kenneth A. Barnes, “‘And the Word Became Flesh’: The Incarnation: A Model For Evangelism” (DMin diss., Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, 1990), 32–43, 48, 50, 57.<a href="#fnref13" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn14" role="doc-endnote"><p>Cf. William E. Pannell, “Evangelism: Solidarity and Reconciliation,” in Speidell, 203.<a href="#fnref14" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn15" role="doc-endnote"><p>Barnes (36–38) rightly notes that imitating Christ is an essential element in the Christian life, but makes numerous hermeneutical missteps in his attempt to extend those texts to justify an “incarnational” theology.<a href="#fnref15" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn16" role="doc-endnote"><p><em>Miracles</em>, 131.<a href="#fnref16" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn17" role="doc-endnote"><p>Speidell, 149.<a href="#fnref17" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn18" role="doc-endnote"><p>“The Chalcedonian Definition of the Faith,” in <em>Creeds, Councils, and Controversies: Documents Illustrative of the History of the Church A.D. 337-461</em>, eds. James Stevenson and B. J. Kidd (New York: Seabury Press, 1966), 352–353.<a href="#fnref18" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Communicatio Idiomatum2014-05-03T14:00:00-04:002014-05-03T14:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-03:/2014/communicatio-idiomatum.htmlThe "communication of attributes" between the divine and human natures in Jesus is one of the most important affirmations of the faith. In Jesus were united all that it is to be God and all that it is to be man.<p>The “communication of attributes” (Latin <em>communicatio idiomatum</em>) is a summary of one of the essential Christian affirmations about the Incarnation of the Son of God: that in the Incarnation, the person Jesus shared both divine and human attributes. The properties of divinity and humanity <em>both</em> fully existed in Jesus the Messiah; they did not cross into each other, but were united in the Son. The Son then could choose to use whichever attributes were appropriate to him at a given time: he could both ride in a boat (consistent with being a human being) or forgive sins (consistenly only with being God). This carries through to all aspects of the Son’s work upon his incarnation: he has a human will and a divine will, neither of which overrides the other but both of which are exercised together as appropriate. The divine will is already in line with the will of the Father; the human will he chooses to subject to the Father. By analogy: one may know both English and French, and if so one speaks each language as appropriate—there is no implied division in a person simply because he knows more than one language.</p>
<p>This communication of attributes was accomplished so that no part of either the Son’s pre-existing humanity divinity or newly-embraced humanity was either changed or diminished in the Incarnation. The two were <em>united</em>, but they were not altered or subsumed. This important reality was articulated in the four negations of the Chalcedonian definition:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p>In Jesus, the two natures were united <em>without confusion</em>. The Incarnation was not like mixing wine and water to produce a <em>tertium quid</em>, a third thing like both of the others but not actually either of them, even while no longer distinguishable from each other. Jesus was both God and man, not a new thing that was neither wholly God nor wholly man.</p></li>
<li><p>In Jesus, the two natures were united <em>without diminishing</em>. The Incarnation was not like putting a drop of wine in the ocean so that the wine simply dissipates and is meaningless. Thus Apollinarian view that the Son’s divine nature subsumed and overwhelmed the human nature was rejected. In Jesus both human and divine natures were fully present, and neither overwhelmed the other.</p></li>
<li><p>In Jesus, the two natures were united <em>without mixture</em>. The Incarnation was not the result of combining two things that were unlike to produce a new thing which could still be separated into the old things. In other words, the Son’s becoming man was not like sodium joining with chloride to produce salt, which is entirely different from either sodium or chloride.</p></li>
<li><p>In Jesus, the two natures were united <em>without separating</em>. The Incarnation was not like bundling together a pair of sticks which could just as easily be pulled apart. The Son did not shed his humanity upon his resurrection or his ascension; he remains now and forever a human being as well as divine. Thus all the experiences, actions, and sayings of Jesus are attributable to one person (rather than suggesting that the divine Son did some things and the human being did another—one stick and another stick acting in distinct ways). Rather, one person, Jesus, walked (and walks) with both natures, lived (and lives) both kinds of lives, existed (and exists) in both ways.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>Thus, the attributes of God and of humanity were both <em>communicated</em>—they had communion—in Christ. In Jesus, the human and divine did not mingle into a distinctionless soup, did not overwhelm each other, cannot be separated, and did not create some new thing unlike human or God. Jesus is fully God and fully man, forever.</p>
Perfectionism2014-05-03T14:00:00-04:002014-05-03T14:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-03:/2014/perfectionism.htmlThe classic Wesleyan doctrine of moral perfectionism in this life is tempting on some fronts—but profoundly unhelpful.<p>The theory of perfectionism suggests that believers ultimately come to a point in their <em>present</em> walk with God where they stop willfully sinning. This stands in contrast to non-perfectionistic views which believe the end of willful sin comes only at <em>glorification</em> after one’s death.</p>
<p>Modern perfectionism was advocated by John Wesley at some points during his ministry and adopted as a hallmark of the Wesleyan tradition (though Wesley himself abandoned the view late in life). In the Wesleyan view, the believer at some point during his life experiences a “second blessing” in which the Holy Spirit supernaturally empowers the believer to overcome the rest of his natural (fleshly) tendency toward sin. This moment must be apprehended by the believer in faith—it is not guaranteed to all believers but is granted to those who seek it in faith. The Wesleyans draw this view primarily from the apostle John’s note that “No one who lives in [Christ] keeps on sinning” (1 John 3:6), as well as from various other passages which suggest that Christians may <em>stop</em> sinning. Moreover, they note the biblical commands to holiness and argue that these strongly imply (if not demand) that believers be able actually to live truly holy lives. Thus, believers should pray regularly for this empowering act of the Spirit in their lives so that they may fulfill God’s will that they be truly holy.</p>
<p>The view has some significant and serious problems, not least in the <em>rest</em> of the book from which they primarily draw their support: John himself notes that when (not if) believers sin, they have an advocate with the Father in the person of Jesus himself (1 John 2:1). Similarly, the testimony of Paul and his ongoing struggles with sin after conversion and his explicit denial of having reached perfection (cf. Romans 7, Philippians 2) indicates that even for extraordinarily faithful believers, perfection will remain an unfilled but longed-for state until death.</p>
<p>Practically, the view readily leads to frustration and even despair on the one hand or profound hubris on the other. Those who, despite their pleading and (true!) faith do not have any experience of “second blessing” and instead remain aware of their ongoing struggle with sin may find themselves thinking they are simply weak in the faith and that they will never accomplish God’s plan for their holiness. This could not be further from the truth: those most faithfully walking with God are in fact those <em>most</em> aware of their own sinfulness. On the other hand, those who think they have found this holiness end up self-deceived. They proclaim their own sinlessness, and prove hypocrites. They may end up holding themselves up as superior to others (even if only in their own minds). They certainly will not go on as they ought in the process of mortifying their own sins, because they are convinced they have none.</p>
The Divinity of Jesus2014-05-03T14:00:00-04:002014-05-03T14:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-03:/2014/the-divinity-of-jesus.htmlFailing to affirm the divinity of Christ means failing to affirm one of the essentials of the faith. Without Christ's divinity, there is no salvation for any of us.<p>The divinity of Jesus is and has been from the beginning a core component of the Christian faith. There are several reasons why Christians have always affirmed and indeed <em>must</em> affirm the deity of Christ. First, Scripture itself clearly testifies to the fully deity of Jesus as the Son of God. To name just a few:</p>
<ul>
<li>the Incarnation passage in John</li>
<li>Thomas’ outburst of faith, “My lord and my God!” to Jesus upon his resurrection</li>
<li>Thomas’ outburst of faith, “My lord and my God!” to Jesus upon his resurrection</li>
<li>the quotes throughout the New Testament but especially in Hebrews where God is quoted as addressing Jesus as God</li>
<li>the quotes throughout the New Testament but especially in Hebrews where God is quoted as addressing Jesus as God</li>
<li>the obvious reality that the early church prayed to and worshipped Jesus</li>
</ul>
<p>So the Christian is first of all obliged by the Scriptures to acknowledge Jesus as God. Beyond this, however, is the reason that it had to be God Incarnate who saved human beings and not merely another human being (still less any other created thing). First, salvation entails reconciliation between God and humanity. That is, the salvation Christ accomplished was not only between God and human beings as individuals, but between God and <em>human nature</em> which was broken in the fall and separated from God in whose image it was made. That Christ is the image of the invisible God (Colossians 1:15, Hebrews 1:3) is not only an affirmation of the nature of the divine Son but an affirmation of the restored humanity of Jesus the Messiah.</p>
<p>Second, Jesus was a substitution for human sins. For this he of course had to be a human being (as the author of Hebrews notes: the blood of sheep and goats could not make purification for human sins). However, he had also to be God. Even if one mere human lived a perfectly sinless life, this perfect life would not be transferrable to another human being: it would be his alone, and would have no extra righteousness to give to another. But Jesus is fully God, and has <em>all</em> righteousness. Indeed, it is the righteousness of God—infinite, boundless, untainted by sin—that Christians receive by faith. It is not one man’s righteousness somehow wafted across a courtroom (to borrow N. T. Wright’s metaphor), but the righteousness of God in which humans participate because they are united with Christ.</p>
<p>Finally, Jesus came to overcome death. To die, he had to be a man, but to bring life he had to be God. Human beings do not have in themselves the power of life (still less to overcome death)—but God whose very name is “I AM”/“HE IS” has life in himself. Jesus the divine Son had and has life <em>in himself</em>, and he therefore can and did overcome death. In his restored humanity, death no longer has any power. His resurrection was the first moment when this divine power of life broke into the fallen reality and gave a formerly mortal human body immortality. Believers have in one sense already died and been raised in him, and in another sense look forward to a fuller participation in that divine reality of life that does not end. Death died in the resurrection because Christ was <em>not</em> merely a man, because his return from the grave was not like Lazarus’ a mere rescuscitation but the triumph of divine life over human frailty.</p>
The Nature of Justification (redux)2014-05-03T14:00:00-04:002014-05-03T14:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-03:/2014/the-nature-of-justification-redux.htmlJustification is one of the essential elements of our salvation, and while it is not less than judicial right standing before God, it is more—much more.<p>Put most simply, to be justified is to be <em>right</em> with God—to be “righteous”.</p>
<p>Being right with God is a complex and multifaceted reality. To understand it, however, one must understand how <em>God</em> is just and righteous, because Christian righteousness is <em>Christ’s</em> righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21). God’s righteousness is intrinsic to him; it is expressed in his righteous deeds, most especially in judging justly. His justice, in turn, is expressed in the most gracious and merciful manner imaginable: he punished sin and defeated death in himself, rather than in the people who deserved punishment and had brought death on themselves. Moreover, he also removes the power of sin in their lives so that they ultimately may <em>stop</em> breaking fellowship with him and each other and may stop acting in such a way as to earn the penalty of sin (death). So God’s justice and righteousness are seen in that he restores people to unbroken relationship with him, removes from them not only their guilt but their brokenness and inevitable tendency toward sin.</p>
<p>If this is the righteousness that is granted to Christians in Christ, then it is more than (though not less than) a change in judicial state before God. Christians have forensic justification in Christ—they are declared “not guilty” in him—because they are united with him. Colossians 2:9–14 drives home this connection clearly: believers are filled in Christ, buried in death and raised to life with him in baptism. This new life and participation in Christ is then the grounds of God’s setting aside the legal demands that stood against the believer: they are nailed to the cross because Christ was nailed to the cross and the believer <em>is in Christ</em>. All trespasses are forgiven, because the believer is no longer operating under his own nature but is full of Christ, and in Christ the fullness of God dwells bodily.</p>
<p>So then to be justified, to be made right with God, is to have all of Christ’s righteousness as <em>actually</em> one’s own. It is not a legal fiction, but a spiritual reality. The believer is right with God; he may not always live in accord with this reality, but he is. By analogy: a husband is always married to his wife; even if he strays by cheating on her, he remains truly married to her.</p>
<p>This view of justification cuts off at its core any kind of works-righteousness view of righteousness. The righteousness that believers possess is always entirely God’s righteousness mediated to them by the Spirit through their participation in the resurrected Son. It is not, as in the Roman Catholic view, participatory righteousness in which the believer contributes his own righteousness (even if by faith and the Spirit’s power) and the remainder is accomplished by God. Nor is it that God <em>chooses</em> to see the believer as if he is righteous when in actuality he is not (yet) righteous because sanctification is incomplete. Rather, no part of the believer’s righteousness—right state, and not only right standing—is his own. Rather, it is always all of God. When acting righteously, one <em>demonstrates</em> that one is justified, but whoever is in Christ is already truly righteous.</p>
The Spirit's Work in Conversion (redux)2014-05-03T14:00:00-04:002014-05-03T14:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-05-03:/2014/the-spirits-work-in-conversion-redux.htmlThe Spirit brought about the Incarnation, and raised Jesus from the dead; now the Spirit makes the Son's work efficacious in the hearts of believers. The Father originated the work of salvation; the Son was and is the means of salvation; the Spirit is the one who guarantees and accomplishes salvation.<p>The Holy Spirit’s work in conversion, as in all the works of the Spirit, is the part of executing the will of the Father in the person of the Son. The Spirit brought about the Incarnation, and raised Jesus from the dead; now the Spirit makes the Son’s work efficacious in the hearts of believers. The Father originated the work of salvation; the Son (in his incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension) was and is the means of salvation; the Spirit is the one who guarantees and accomplishes salvation.</p>
<p>To begin, the Spirit opens unbelievers’ eyes to their need for salvation. Sinners apart from the Spirit are lost and hopeless, with either no awareness of need for God (passivity) or an active rejection of God (rebellion). The Spirit opens an unregenerate individual to see his need for salvation, providing an awareness of sinfulness and separation from God, and prompting desire for restored relationship and righteousness. This all happens in the preaching of the gospel, which the Spirit makes effective in the person’s mind—even as the Spirit was responsible for the existence of the gospel in Scripture to begin with. Thus the Spirit inspired the words of the gospel and then brings them to fruition: the Spirit is executor of God’s will.</p>
<p>Moreover, the Spirit enables faith in Jesus Christ as the resurrected Son of God, as savior and lord.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> In this recognition of one’s need and decisive change in the will—toward rather than away from God—the Spirit brings about the regeneration of the human heart. Regeneration unites the new believer to Jesus Christ: he comes to participate in the Son’s perfected, divinized humanity. Indeed, believers “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). Where once the believer’s heart rejected God, God now appears good and delightful and worthy of worship and trust. Where once one thought nothing of engaging in sin, one now increasingly hates and rejects sin and strives to sin no more. The Spirit replaces a heart of stone with a heart of flesh, and moves believers from darkness to light.</p>
<p>Having accomplished the salvation of an individual soul, the Spirit brings the believer into the community of faith. No person’s salvation is singular or independent. Maturity and completion happen as one participates in the restoration of relationship not only with God but with other human beings. The people of God all participate <em>together</em> through the Spirit in Jesus the Son. It is the Spirit who makes the people of God the body of Christ. And the Spirit seals the people of God for redemption, keeping them steadfast in their faith as they build one another up through fellowship and the proclamation of the word and participation in the ordinances—all of which are Spirit-empowered to continue God’s gracious work in the believer’s life, leading ultimately to final salvation.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Believers have differed on the particulars of this enabling throughout history, but all affirm that the Spirit does indeed enable faith as a minimum assertion. My own position is that the Spirit does not only <em>enable</em> faith but <em>supplies</em> it to hearts which would otherwise reject God. That is, the Spirit is not merely the ultimate ground but also the proximate cause of regeneration.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Further Upward and Further In2014-04-29T08:15:00-04:002014-04-29T08:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-29:/2014/further-upward-and-further-in.htmlThe Christian life the life of growing sanctification—increasing in Christlikeness and so in humanity as it was meant to be.<p>Humanity was meant for something more than its current state. Those of us who are in Christ are, by the grace of God, slowly being transformed into that <em>something more</em>. We are being made like God. This is the essential nature of the process of sanctification: slow transformation from our current state into the image of God. Sanctification is one of the most important ideas in the Bible, and many things besides people were sanctified in the course of salvation history. Sanctification is being set apart for service to God, being made “holy” —including especially the various elements used in the pre-Christ sacrificial system. This kind of holiness entails both moral uprightness and distinction from the mundane.</p>
<p>We first recognize that moral failure is a reality—a sad and tragic reality, but a reality nonetheless—in the life of the Christian. Even after experiencing regeneration and justification, we remain <em>simultus justus et peccator</em>, to borrow Luther’s famous phrase: simultaneously justified and yet sinners. We remain in the world <em>and</em> of the world, rather than in it but not of it. We are not yet wholly set apart for God’s works, but too often continue to pursue fallen ends via fallen means. We need to be transformed so that we pursue God’s ends (ultimately: God himself) as he has called us, rather than the things of the earth.</p>
<p>But God in his wisdom has ordained that we <em>grow</em> into this. We are justified at a single moment by faith in Christ, and our sanctification will ultimately be finished in a single moment when we are glorified upon our death. In the interval, though, God has called us to pursue him, to strive for the holiness which Christ exemplified for us. As we do, we learn to trust him more and rely more thoroughly on his power and wisdom rather than our own, and this too is part of the process of sanctification. When we are perfected, it will not be a matter of suddenly being able to do on our own what we could not before, but rather that we will finally depend wholly on God.</p>
<p>In this we are growing into the full maturity of humanity. Our model is Jesus Christ: the God-man who shows us what it means to be a perfect human being. He taught us over and over again not only by example but by direct affirmation that his life was characterized above all by dependence on his Father and that he acted not on his own power but that of the Spirit. In our sanctification, we learn to walk the same way. As in our justification, this comes about because we are being united to Christ by the indwelling Spirit—so our growing humanity is also growing to participate in the life of the Trinity. We pursue the Father and his ways, empowered by the Spirit to partake of Christ’s risen, divinized humanity.</p>
<p>This way of putting it is often jarring to western theologians, but is fully orthodox and has been part of the Eastern Orthodox tradition for sixteen centuries and more. It draws directly on the language of 2 Peter 1:4, which reminds us that we are partakers of the divine nature. It was on that very basis that Peter laid out his enjoinder to grow in the various measures of sanctification: faith, virtue, knowledge, self-control, steadfastness, godliness, brotherly affection, and love (a list that bears what is surely not a coincidental similarity to Paul’s fruit of the Spirit). Sanctification is our wholehearted pursuit of the things of God, not on our own power but by his gracious work in us, until we someday attain to full maturity and depend wholly on the Spirit’s uniting us to Christ.</p>
We Are Not Alone2014-04-23T06:52:00-04:002014-04-23T06:52:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-23:/2014/we-are-not-alone.htmlPsalms 77 and 78 help us see how to respond to suffering and pain in our lives: by looking (even when it is hardest to do so) to the God who made everything and who has saved his people.
<p>I came to the end of Psalm 77 and knew that the editors of the Psalms must have had the same feeling I did. “And then what happened?”</p>
<p>This Psalm of Asaph is one of those laments that does not hesitate to ask hard questions of God.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">I cry aloud to God,<br />
aloud to God, and he will hear me.<br />
In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;<br />
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;<br />
my soul refuses to be comforted.<br />
When I remember God, I moan;<br />
when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah<br />
<br />
You hold my eyelids open;<br />
I am so troubled that I cannot speak.</div>
<p>(Psalm 77:1–4 ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I think every person who lives long enough comes to know this feeling. We face hard times in this fallen world. We ourselves suffer, and we watch the people around us suffer. We see our communities—our churches, our neighborhoods, our nations—stumble and falter. We long for things to be set right, and they have <em>not</em> yet been set right. Even the thought of God is hard (v. 3).</p>
<p>But Asaph looks to God anyway. The rest of the Psalm turns and faces the character and history of God. It asks the hard questions:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block"> Has his steadfast love forever ceased?<br />
Are his promises at an end for all time?<br />
Has God forgotten to be gracious?<br />
Has he in anger shut up his compassion?"</div>
<p>(Psalm 77:8–9, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Asaph’s answer is straightforward: “I will remember the deeds of Yahweh” (v. 11). And the rest of the Psalm is just that: a reflection on the creative power of God—with a turn just twice to God’s work in his people (vv. 15, 20). Our God is the God who made the heavens and the earth, to whom belong storms and seas and every mighty, awesome thing we see around us. From him comes salvation.</p>
<p>And then, with “You led your people like a flock / by the hand of Moses and Aaron” (v. 20) the Psalm simply comes to an end. We are left hanging. The editor of the Psalms (and perhaps Asaph himself) recognized that there is more to say into our sorrows and our grief—more to say about who God is and has been not only in the structure of the world but in the history of his people. So the answer continues: Psalm 78 takes up that theme of God’s leading his people by the hand of Moses and Aaron and expands it into a full-fledged poetic history of Yahweh’s work in the people of Israel (one of several such in the Psalms).</p>
<p>Psalm 77 reminds us that our God owns the thunderbolts, and punctuates that sentiment with the reminder that he saves his people. It stands as a monument to the reality that God has all the power he could possibly need to save his people, to show them the steadfast love and compassion that seemed absent when Asaph penned the lament.</p>
<p>Psalm 78 in turn reminds us that Yahweh is more than a sugar-daddy who dances to our whims. He is the God who saves us, yes; he is also the God who judges us and brings righteousness about <em>in</em> his people as well as <em>for</em> his people. The people sin (just as we sin!) and <em>God</em> atones for them (and for us!) even as he judges them (even as he judges us!). It also reminds us that we are not alone. It situates our suffering and struggles against the backdrop of God’s work with his people, of whom we are a part. We are not individuals drifting through life alone, but part of the people of God, both immediately in our local church and broadly in the history of the world. We must situate our struggles and our challenges and our pains against that broader story—not diminishing them, but recognizing that they are part of a larger tapestry. And that tapestry is from the hands of a master weaver. He knows what he is about.</p>
<p>When we face the hard realities of life, then, these Psalms are standing stones that point us back to our rock. Even when the thought of God itself makes us weary and bitter, we must look to him. Who is he? What has he done? Is he not powerful enough to save, and has his work before not shown that he will indeed save? Is he not trustworthy? He is.</p>
<p>We do not always know the reasons God allows and ordains the struggles and travails we face. Indeed: often we do not. We do know the God who is with us in those trials, though. He is the God who has atoned for us when we were still in the act of rebelling against him, and who did so by taking up humanity himself, walking this broken world to heal our hurts. As Hebrews reminds us: the high priest we have is one who <em>can</em> sympathize with our weaknesses. We are not alone: not even in the darkest night, when prayer itself makes us faint. God is with us. Immanuel. The Spirit indwells. Thanks be to God.</p>
Right Standing Before God2014-04-22T08:15:00-04:002014-04-22T08:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-22:/2014/right-standing-before-god.htmlAny discussion of the work of God in Christ has to include the idea of justification. It is a central theme in Bible's picture of salvation.<p>Any discussion of the work of God in Christ has to include the idea of justification: it is an important throughout the Bible, and is especially prominent in Paul’s writings on salvation (which comprise a substantial part of the New Testament and most of our systematically theological reflection on salvation arises). The word “justify” and its nominal forms are used to translate words from the <em>dikaoō</em> (δικαιόω) word group in Greek, which includes a number of related concepts, all circling in various ways around the notion of justice and right action and just and righteous character. Since “justification”—being justified—before God is a central idea in Scripture and an essential element of our salvation, we should be careful to understand what exactly this concept means.</p>
<p>Most basically, for a person to be justified is for him or her to be righteous, and correspondingly to have acted rightly—in the eyes of God. At a bare minimum, this of course requires both the performance of good works and the rejection of sin. However, justification means more than simply having checked off a series of boxes corresponding to specific good works while having avoided other boxes corresponding to bad or sinful actions. It means being regarded as having done righteously and justly by God, and God sees our hearts, so even doing what is right and shunning what is wrong may not be sufficient: we often have entirely the wrong motives in such actions. We seek the approval of men instead of to please God; we want the social or personal benefits that follow from doing nice things for others; we enjoy stoking the fires of our own pride. In any case, we do not even act rightly, still less do so for the glory of God. So the idea that we might be justified on our own merits is hopeless.</p>
<p>Second, we should note that ordinary notions of justification often tend to include many of the right (that is, Biblical) concepts of justification in them, but in shallower forms than Scripture supplies. In particular, the use of the term has shifted somewhat from when it was used to translate the word group from Greek into English. When we say, “he was justified,” we do not mean that someone did the right thing, but that whatever someone did, he had grounds for doing. We can of course turn this back to our needs by noting that we have grounds only for right-hearted obedience and none for sinning. Still, this is less than the biblical idea of justification—of being considered to have done rightly in every way.</p>
<p>For the “Christian” to be justified, we must be able to stand before God and he consider us righteous in every word and deed and thought and attitude of the heart. This happens in two ways (inseparable from each other): forensic justification and imputed righteousness through union with Christ. In “forensic justification,” God legally acquits us of guilt for committed sin and righteous deeds left undone. The list of offenses we committed was nailed to the cross (cf. Colossians 2:13–15). This can happen because we are united with Jesus the Son of God by the Spirit of God. As Paul notes in 2 Corinthians 5:21, the sinless Christ became sin that we might become the righteousness of God. All that is Christ’s is ours; we are one with him and so we have all his righteousness. (The word “righteousness” here derives from the same root as we translate “justification”—these ideas are inextricably linked.) Finally, God himself justifies us, calling us righteous, because Jesus Christ has both lived in perfect righteousness and paid the penalty for our sins, propitiating the wrath of God (cf. Romans 3).</p>
More Than We Could Have Hoped2014-04-17T13:35:00-04:002014-04-17T13:35:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-17:/2014/more-than-we-could-have-hoped.htmlHebrews points us to the wonder of what we have as those who live when Christ has already come—and it is wonderful indeed.<p>The past week was something of a bumpy ride. I got sick—the kind of sick that makes you feel terrible and want to do nothing but sleep for days on end. The kind of sleep that makes you long for a resurrection body. Then my lovely wife got sick at the beginning of this week. Accordingly, I have not written these posts, nor (much worse) been as consistent in my readings as I would like. Still: here I am again, diving back in. The discipline of writing these posts continues to prove fruitful for me as an exercise in thinking rightly about God and in being consistent in my devotional reading. It also helps keep my wordsmithing at least a little fresh, even if I have noted that writing these little notes is a very different skill than writing academically or even longer-form blog posts. Still: much of four months in (and far too many days missed), this remains a valuable use of my time.</p>
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<p>Reading in Hebrews is always a source of enormous spiritual encouragement to me. I am not sure I could picka favorite book in the Bible: every time I read a bok again, Ifind new depths and treasures in it. A few do stand out, though: Isaiah, several of the minor prophets, Colossians, and Hebrews tend to speak to me with particular force. Whatever the reason—some mix of my personality and temperament with the things God desires to accomplish in me—Hebrews simply delights me time and again.</p>
<p>Reading through these chapters, I am captured by the author’s emphasis on two realities. The first is the central thrust of the book: the supremacy of Jesus Christ over every would-be religious competitor, even the religious competitors of the tradition from which he came. For the author of this epistle, none of the trappings of Judaism—glorious and good though they were—could measure up to Jesus. But this is because of the second thing that always comes home in reading this letter: the author saw Jesus as the perfect fulfillment of all the things toward which Old Testament belief had pointed. The temple, the priesthood, the old kingship… all of these things were aiming for Jesus. When he came, there was no need for those old things: not because they were bad, but because they had been replaced by something impossibly better. The symbol had been supplanted by the reality.</p>
<p>It is easy to take that for granted, living this side of the incarnation of God and this side of the inauguration of his kingdom. But we ought not. We ought to look at the Old Testament with joy that we see clearly what the prophets longed to see but <em>did not</em>. We ought to read those pages of expectation and longing and exult that the longing has been satisified. Yes, we live still in the time between the times, when Christ has come but has yet to come again—but we live in the time between the times: Christ <em>has</em> come. All those pointers and prophecies and hints and hopes that ran from Adam through Noah down to Abraham and on past David’s kingdom into the words of the prophets and even in exile and return to the land—we see them clear as can be in God-the-Son who died on our behalf and lives on our behalf.</p>
<p>We have a high priest who never dies again, and who therefore never has to lay aside his priesthood, never has to cease his prayers. We have a priest who had no need to atone for his own sin, but in his own self atoned for all our sin once and for all. We need no further sacrifices. We have a perfect intercessor. We have Jesus, author and perfector of our faith. We have everything we need, and more than we ever could have hoped. Hallelujah.</p>
Halfway to His Own Thesis2014-04-12T08:00:00-04:002014-04-12T08:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-12:/2014/halfway-to-his-own-thesis.html<p><cite>Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work</cite>, by Eugene H. Peterson. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980. 241 pp. $20.</p>
<section id="overview" class="level2">
<h2>Overview</h2>
<p>In <em>Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work</em>, Eugene Peterson advocates for a biblically grounded rather than psychologically-driven approach to pastoral work. He argues that the idea that pastors must first of all …</p></section><p><cite>Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work</cite>, by Eugene H. Peterson. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980. 241 pp. $20.</p>
<section id="overview" class="level2">
<h2>Overview</h2>
<p>In <em>Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work</em>, Eugene Peterson advocates for a biblically grounded rather than psychologically-driven approach to pastoral work. He argues that the idea that pastors must first of all be up to date and current has things precisely backwards: the pastor’s responsibility is to lead his congregation back to timeless realities, not into the hippest fads of the day. He suggests that the <em>Megilloth</em>, the “five scrolls” of Songs of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Esther, have particular lessons to teach pastors as they seek to bring “what is essential in the human condition, not what is accicental” (p. 2) down into the “idiosyncrasies of the local and the personal” (p. 5). A failure either to hold fast to the eternal word and will of God, or to bring it home to those to whom the pastor ministers, will leave the people without what they most deeply need: a shepherd through the vagaries and trials of life.</p>
<p>Peterson provides a substantial introduction to the book (some ten percent or so of the book’s text), in which he traces out his thesis in detail. He then divides the rest of the book into five discussions of pastoral work, grounding each in one of those “five scrolls.” In each, Peterson interacts with the psychologizing tendency of the present day, the history of the interpretation of the Biblical book in question, and how pastors might learn from and apply the lessons of the book to their own work in their own congregations. For Peterson, Song of Songs is a model for directing God’s people into richer prayer, Ruth is a picture of situating individual stories in the context of salvific history, Lamentations is a guide to walking with people through their suffering, Ecclesiastes is a help in rejecting false religion in place of the fear of God, and Esther is a pointer to the essentially communal nature of the people of God.</p>
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<section id="analysis" class="level2">
<h2>Analysis</h2>
<p>Curiously, the most significant problem with the book might at first appear to be one of its great strengths. Peteron’s skill as a writer is such that he can sometimes carry the reader along by sheer rhetorical effect—but this is in some sense a result antithetical to the purpose of the text. In a text explicitly and self-consciously aiming to point pastors away from technique and the tendency to mistake emotion for changed lives, the contrast with what Peterson actually does in large swaths of the book is striking and unfortunate. There are too many places where Peterson relies on the emotional impact of his words rather than on the text itself. Nearly the whole chapter on Esther falls into this trap, as do large swaths of the chapters on Ecclesiastes.</p>
<p>It is not so much that the points Peterson makes in these chapters are wrong: many of them are quite on target. It is that, disconnected from the text from which he purports to draw them, they become mere floating assertions about the world—assertions that, however beautifully made, we may take or leave as they strike us. There is too much technique in Peterson’s theologizing and too little of the Scripture to which he enjoins his readers to return.</p>
<p>Granted that Peterson makes no claim to be writing exegetical commentaries on the text, but he opens the book with the reminder that “we don’t, and we must not, lay our own foundations” (p. 11). Indeed, he (quite rightly) spends the whole introduction pleading for pastors to ground their work not in the trends of the day but in the “eternal will and word of God” (p. 5). It is a strange thing that he should then spend so much of the book on his own ruminations and not wrestling with the particulars of those texts. This is a significant loss, because when Peterson does remain more closely engaged with the text, as in his chapters on Ruth and Lamentations, and as in some parts of his treatment of Ecclesiastes, the effect is marvelous. The reader is drawn into wonder at the way God’s word guides us effectively for pastoral ministry. The pastor is reminded that the circumstances and trials he and his flock face are not things newly sprung up in the late twentieth or early twenty-first century, but the sorts of things for which God has already supplied guides and instruction in the Scriptures.</p>
<p>But this is no surprise: this is Peterson’s own thesis. The power of our faith, the fruitfulness of pastoral ministry (and the effectiveness of our books thereon) is not in our technique but in grappling deeply with the word of God in our own situations. The more he grapples with the Scriptures, the more his technique serves the text, the better Peterson’s book is—and vice versa. Where technique serves exposition, the reader is built up. Where exposition falls aside and rhetoric reigns, the reader may be moved emotionally, but little remains when that glow fades.</p>
<p>Thus, for four of the five chapters in the book, Peterson’s success in advancing his thesis may largely be measured by the extent to which he engages the text. In Ruth and Lamentations, the narrative and poetry respectively drive the discussion, and so the chapters are profoundly helpful. The discussion of Ruth helps the pastor see his peoples’ personal stories rightly—and thus, to help his people see their own stories rightly. They are not the end-all and be-all that modern psychology might make them out to be, but neither are they insignificant. Indeed, they are all the more significant precisely <em>because</em> they are part of something much bigger than themselves. The discussion of Lamentations helps a pastor to see the necessity both of walking <em>through</em> suffering and sorrow with his flock and of helping them come to resolution in the right time. Petersons’ treatment of Ecclesiastes, as a guide to saying <em>no</em> to false religion, seems to be an accurate analysis of the book, but Peterson veers away from the Text. He deals too little with the specific ways in which <em>Qoheleth</em> confronts our culture and too much in the sweeping generalizations about the value of those confrontations. Least helpful of all is his treatment of Esther, in which he rightly diagnoses severe problems in the culture around us but leaves aside almost everything in the book itself. We desperately need the kind of rebuke to individualism he suggests here. Whether Esther can support that kind of rebuke, still less offer an alternative vision of the people of God, is left aside in favor of a good but largely-unrelated discussion of Saul and Amalek and the shape of ministry.</p>
<p>Peterson’s treatment of the Song of Songs deserves its own analysis. The text is notoriously hard to interpret, and has been subject to countless different readings. Peterson falls squarely into the allegorical camp, though he gives the allegorical reading something of a twist. The urgency of romantic (both emotional and sexual) desire so prominent in the book he transmutes into a picture of the Christian’s right desire for communion with God. This was the chapter in which Peterson hewed <em>most</em> closely to the text, and so it was the chapter least susceptible to the problems outlined above. As with all treatments of the Song, though, the effectiveness of the chapter hinges on whether one finds Peterson’s interpretation accurate. (I did not.) Insofar as one grants Peterson’s interpretation, though, the chapter is an effective argument for the necessity of prayer, and especially of the pastor leading his people to pray with greater fervency.</p>
</section>
<section id="conclusion" class="level2">
<h2>Conclusion</h2>
<p><em>Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work</em> is in some ways a very good book, but in others it falls short—an especially unfortunate reality given the very real problems at which it aimed. That Peterson wants to see pastors grounding their <em>pastoring</em> in the Scriptures as well as their preaching and teaching is clear. Less clear is whether this book will be as effective as it could have been in accomplishing that end. Good pastoral work does not run aground only on the rocks of psychology. Rhetoric is an equally deadly reef, and it may be the more tempting to a skilled writer passionate for the recovery of Biblical pastoral work.</p>
<p>The chapters on Ruth and Lamentations were excellent and profoundly helpful treatments of the topics they addressed, and Peterson’s treatment of Song of Songs was at least interesting. Because he exchanged exposition for effect in his treatments of Ecclesiastes and Esther, though, the book falters. Though his words never failed to pack an emotional punch, they were too often hollowed out by their lack of a connection to the text. In this, these chapters serve as an accidental and unfortunate illustration of the necessity of Peterson’s own thesis. We need not more effective psychology, nor more powerful lnaguage, but a deeper reliance on and connection to the word of God.</p>
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The Spirit and Christian Formation2014-04-09T09:00:00-04:002014-04-09T09:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-09:/2014/the-spirit-and-christian-formation.htmlOur focus on the obviously miraculous gifts can blind us to the astounding reality of the role played by the Spirit in our Christian formation.<p>Discussions of the person of the Holy Spirit in modern Christianity tend to focus on the third person of the Trinity’s obviously miraculous activity in the world—the “gifts” that characterize the charismatic movement and the associated controversy. Though these gifts are certainly part of the recorded history of the Spirit’s work, the church’s focus thereupon (whether positive or negative) on the gifts has had the unfortunate side effect of hiding many of the other, arguably more central and essential actions of the Spirit in the life of the believer. Just as the Spirit is the person who mediates to us the work of Christ in our salvation and brings about our conversion, the Spirit is the one who leads us into greater participation in the renewed humanity the Son has accomplished in his incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension. The Spirit is the one who progressively deepens our union with Christ and reshapes us to be like Him who saved us.</p>
<p>The Spirit accomplishes these ends in a variety of ways, all of which are themselves worthy of further reflection. First of all, it was the Spirit who superintended the writing of Scripture, the self-revelation of the Triune Godhead for our salvation and sanctification. If Christian formation is in no small measure a matter of growing to know our Creator—if we are being restored to active relationship with one who made us for that very relationship—then the ways in which our Creator has revealed himself are supremely important. Without Scripture, we would know little of God; through it we enter in the deep mysteries. The first part the Spirit plays in our formation, then, is in having guided every hand from Moses’ to John’s in the writing of the word of God. Upon this foundation comes the Spirit’s second work: opening our eyes to understand that Scripture. The things of God are foolishness to unregenerate people, but beautiful and savory to those who have been given spiritual life. The word of God can seem dense and opaque to those who do not believe, but every believer in Christ finds that more and more these mysteries unfold: this is the Spirit at work.</p>
<p>As we come to understand the person of God and the things he has commanded us in his word, we find that we are still weak and struggle to do them. Here, too, the Spirit is at work, for it is the Spirit who empowers our obedience. We know that the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead is at work in us—and this is the only hope we have of overcoming sin and growing in holiness. Part and parcel of this, the Spirit empowers us to endure the suffering that God uses to make us more dependent on him and more faithful to him. Likewise, when in the course of our lives we are tempted to fall away, it is the Spirit who helps us continue to hold fast to the faith. Moreover, the Spirit intercedes for us when we do not know how to pray ourselves. When we are beset by temptation, when tempted to fall away, when exhausted from the battle, when wearied of the pursuit of holiness, the Spirit prays for us. Nor is the Spirit’s work directed solely to individuals. All of these realities are corporate, and in all of them we grow in unity and kindness toward one another. The Spirit is our bond of peace.</p>
<p>In summary, then, we have both the Spirit and the Son praying for us to the Father who delights to answer those prayers, and the Spirit empowering us walk in the Son’s life with the Father—hallelujah!</p>
Noah: A Theological-Aesthetic Rorschach Test2014-04-08T19:35:00-04:002014-04-08T19:35:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-08:/2014/noah-a-theological-aesthetic-rorschach-test.htmlLink: Over at Mere Orthodoxy, I write at some length about how our responses to <i>Noah</i> says a great deal about us as well as about the movie itself.
<p>I spent a good bit of time working on this over the last week, and I hope you’ll find it helpful.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Last week saw the premiere of Darren Aronofsky’s <em>Noah</em>, and with it a (predictable) storm of controversy from the evangelical community. Reviews have ranged from <a href="http://www.albertmohler.com/2014/03/31/drowning-in-distortion-darren-aronofskys-noah/">predictably critical</a> to <a href="http://www.patheos.com/blogs/churchofthemasses/2014/03/the-utter-embarrassing-mess-of-noah-and-why-everybody-is-lying-about-it/">outright disdain</a> to <a href="http://drbrianmattson.com/journal/2014/3/31/sympathy-for-the-devil">hostile readings</a>, and from <a href="http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2014/march-web-only/noah.html?paging=off">strongly (though not unreservedly) positive</a> to <a href="http://convergemagazine.com/noah-film-12561/">more restrained restrained affirmation</a> of the film on <a href="http://www.relevantmagazine.com/culture/film/noah">aesthetic and spiritual</a> grounds to especially measured <a href="http://www.catholicworldreport.com/Item/3036/inoahi_a_theological_reflection.aspx">theological</a> and <a href="http://christandpopculture.com/stars-strange-review-noah/">artistic engagement</a>. In short, the responses spanned exactly the range one would expect from the evangelical community, which is itself deeply divided on the purpose, value, and meaning of the arts—decades of conversation on the topic notwithstanding. <em>Noah</em> works as a sort of theological-artistic Rorschach test. We seem to find it in what we expect given its origins and our disposition.</p>
</blockquote>
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<p>Rather than offer another review (which would add nothing to the conversation at this point), or decry once again the predictable evangelical response to the arts, or even critique reviews with which I disagreed, I thought it might be useful instead to ask where we stand today and point to a few places we might grow from this.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I think you’ll find <a href="http://mereorthodoxy.com/noah-theological-aesthetic-rorschach-test/">the rest of the piece</a> salient and helpful.</p>
Death Before the Fall2014-04-08T19:25:00-04:002014-04-08T19:25:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-08:/2014/death-before-the-fall.htmlLink: In which Alastair Roberts suggests that physical death was not a result of the Fall, but something from which humans were always meant to be saved to something better.<p>This bit by Alastair Reynolds is an <em>excellent</em> summary of the position to which I have slowly come over the last few years of reflection on the question of physical death before the Fall. It shows the influence of patristic thought in the best way possible, and also demonstrates a great handle on the bigger picture of salvation history in the whole of the canon.</p>
<p>A few salient quotes. First, on moral and physical perfection:</p>
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<p>Perfection was not the creation’s natural state, but its intended destiny (and salvation is not a ‘rebooting’ of creation to its primary state, but the restoring of creation to the future that God originally intended for it)….</p>
<p>With perfection, our wills will be so capable of apprehending our good that we will no longer be capable of willing to do evil, not by virtue of some external compulsion, but by virtue of mature wills and natures and their appropriate mutual correspondence.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And then from the conclusion, which I positively <em>loved</em>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>First, Christ’s obedience is not about ‘innocence’ but about ‘perfection’. Christ brings humanity to the height and fullness of its divinely intended moral stature. He gives us, not merely innocence or obedience, but full maturity.</p>
<p>Second, humanity was always intended to die and rise again to a more glorious form of life. Christ death and resurrection achieves this destiny.</p>
<p>Third, as the last Adam, Christ will pacify and tame the entire creation, ruling until every enemy is placed under his feet.</p>
<p>Fourth, as we are in Christ, the bad character of death is minimized. We are not unclothed to be left naked, but in order to be more fully clothed, to have death swallowed up in life. We are still subject to the hostile attacks of the world and to the possibility of death within it, but Christ is the Tree of Life and we have unrestricted access to him. Death is no longer the alienating power that it once was.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is a great read, start to finish. <a href="http://alastairadversaria.wordpress.com/2014/04/08/death-before-the-fall/">“Death Before the Fall”</a></p>
Bind It On Your Forehead2014-04-07T06:30:00-04:002014-04-07T06:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-07:/2014/bind-it-on-your-forehead.htmlMemorizing a book of the Bible yields remarkable fruit. It shapes us and transforms our thinking.<p>One of the real joys of memorizing Scripture is the way that—by the grace of God—it slowly shapes you and (trans)forms the way you think. Jaimie and I have been memorizing Colossians this spring, and we will have finished the book by the end of April, Lord willing. I read through the book this morning, and found great joy in that I can see the contours of Paul’s letter much more clearly and understand the book much more deeply. Even more, though, I am extremely glad for the ways I can see that the book is shaping me.</p>
<p>Several days last week, I woke up with various verses from the book echoing in my mind—Col. 1:23’s encouragement to hold fast to the faith, Col. 1:15–19’s magnificent and beautiful Christology, Col. 2:20–23’s admonition to lean on Christ and not on worldly asceticism, Col. 1:29’s picture of Paul’s hard work for the sake of the gospel… It is difficult to overstate the impact it has on one’s life to have a book like this constantly ringing in one’s mind. Its contents are now always ready to be drawn upon as I encounter opportunities and trials.</p>
<p>Colossians’ sweep from the doctrine of Christ and salvation to our eminently practicable response is typical of Paul, and reminds me that we cannot ever separate the two. When the book enjoins men like me, “Husbands, love your wives, and do not be harsh with them… Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged” (Col. 3:19,21), this is entirely dependent on the reality that I have been raised with Christ and know that I will appear with him in glory when he returns (Col. 3:1–4).</p>
<p>My ethical response (Col. 3:5–4:2) finds its foundation in the assurance of what God <em>has</em> done and the hope of what he <em>will</em> do. My ability to carry out that response is wholly based on my unity with Christ: that in him spiritually I died and have been raised (cf. Col. 2:20, 3:1). He is my life (Col 3:4). There is no separating our obedience, our pursuit of holiness, from his gracious work on our behalf. He did and does and will do, and we respond. Neither can we fail to respond and say that we are truly in Christ nor perform moral acts of any worth if we reject Christ.</p>
<p>And daily I find myself meditating on and turning to these realities and commands. I am led to worship, and led to obedience. Praise God for Colossians, for his command to know his word by heart.</p>
Theology is Essential2014-04-06T20:30:00-04:002014-04-06T20:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-06:/2014/theology-is-essential.htmlChatting with a seven-year-old is one sure way to highlight the need for all of us to be better theologians.
<p>Today, I spent a good part of my afternoon talking theology with a seven-year- old. I was watching some friends’ little girl, who is not yet a Christ-follower, and our discussion ranged all over. We talked about everything from the bush- climbing groundhog who appeared out the back door midway through our conversation to the reason for the “blood” langauge throughout the Bible (“Eww! Blood is disgusting!”), and from what happened in the Incarnation and the nature of the Trinity to how hard it is to obey one’s parents.</p>
<p>The conversation highlighted for me the necessity of learning theology. These kinds of questions will come up in any family whose parents are seeking to point their children to Jesus. The Bible has a lot of initially perplexing material in it. Many of its concepts are foreign to <em>our</em> culture by dint of antiquity and sociological differences between the ancient Hebrews and Greeks and modern Westerners. Others are foreign to <em>all</em> cultures because of the Fall, and require all of us to undergo the transformation that occurs in the renewal of our minds as the Spirit sanctifies us. No surprise, then, that a seven-year-old would be asking questions about these things: they are hard and confusing.</p>
<p>What is a surprise to me is how often I have heard these topics brushed aside as inessential or secondary. The Trinity? Too complicated for ordinary folks. The Incarnation? Just kind of a thing that had to happen so Jesus could die for us. The blood language? Well, that’s mostly just the Old Testament anyway. The really important bits are that we tell people about Jesus and live basically right!</p>
<p>Of course, the obvious questions are who this Jesus is and what it means to “live right,” and to answer these questions <em>at all</em> we have to deal in some rather deep theological concerns. To live right is to live in accord with the way of God in the world he made—but who is God, and how did he shape the cosmos? As for the person of Jesus, any answer at all that wrestles with the text of the Bible must soon confront both the ideas of the Trinity and the Incarnation in short order.</p>
<p>And that’s just for talking to a seven-year-old!</p>
<p>I wish that the picture I presented above were a caricature, an over- simplification of more nuanced positions designed to make a rhetorical point with some flourish, but it is not. In the Baptistic circles in which I travel, there are <em>many</em> churches with explicitly anti-doctrinal stances. To be sure, we have our share of churches that focus on doctrine to the exclusion of right practice, but these are much less common in low-church contexts than their opposite. “Doctrine divides,” and we want “deeds not creeds,” and that is all there is to it—only it cannot be.</p>
<p>As has often been said, the question is not whether we are theologians, but what sort of theologians we will be. All of us have our own understandings of God, and these ideas are more or less in line with what Scripture says. Because God is truly great, his revelation of himself pushes us to <em>think</em>. We refuse to engage our critical faculties at our own peril.</p>
<p>I am not for a moment suggesting that my own particular brand of nerdiness ought to be the standard by which Christians are judged. I am, however, deeply and increasingly persuaded that a failure to think seriously about the contents of our faith will result only in ruin and calamity in our people. We need blue- collar men and women no less than erudite scholars to be comfortable explaining the Trinity to their children and coworkers. We need not all be intellectual sophisticates (Lord help us if we were), but we do all need to be a people shaped by the intellectual depths of our faith. We need to be able to explain our faith both so that we may teach outsiders and so that we may build one another up and guard one another in the faith.</p>
<p>We need to be able to tell our seven-year-olds how it is that God became man and why that would even matter. We need to understand ourselves how the one who was totally pure became “disgusting” on our behalf in order to undo the brokenness our rebellion introduced so we can tell that story to our children. We need to grasp that the Trinity is not an ancillary doctrine to our faith, but one of its bedrock affirmations, so that we can proclaim to our children and our neighbors the God who is unending love within his own being—they will need this to make sense of any of the other things we say about Jesus. And this I say not in some abstract sense, but because I needed to be able to talk about all of those to help my friends’ little girl make a little more sense of the gospel <em>today</em>.</p>
The Spirit and Conversion2014-04-03T08:15:00-04:002014-04-03T08:15:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-03:/2014/the-spirit-and-conversion.html<p>The Holy Spirit is the member of the Triune Godhead who actively brings about our conversion. It is the Spirit who regenerates a person, indwells him, and seals him for the day of salvation. The spirit makes the gospel powerfully effective for salvation so that those who hear it may …</p><p>The Holy Spirit is the member of the Triune Godhead who actively brings about our conversion. It is the Spirit who regenerates a person, indwells him, and seals him for the day of salvation. The spirit makes the gospel powerfully effective for salvation so that those who hear it may believe and be saved. On these points all are agreed, since they are backed by straightforward statements in Scripture. The particulars, however, are a matter of some controversy, and so bear further consideration.</p>
<p>There are two broad views of the Spirit’s work in regeneration. In the non- Calvinist view (whether Arminian, Roman Catholic, or variations thereon in other streams of Christian tradition), the Spirit does preparatory work in the hearts of the unregenerate and provides God’s grace to enable people to choose whether to respond to the gospel or not. However it is articulated (most commonly as “prevenient grace” in Baptist circles), this view emphasizes that the Spirit’s work is essential in making available the effects of Christ’s work on the cross to whomever will believe. Without the Spirit’s work, regeneration through faith is impossible, because no one will believe. With the Spirit’s work, men are enabled to choose freely whether to follow God or no.</p>
<p>In the Calvinist view, by contrast, the Spirit not only works in a preparatory sense, but is also the active agent in bringing about conversion. People choose as they will, and people dead in their trespasses always choose sin over God—this is the essence of our fallen nature. What is needed, in this view, is not only the grace-given ability to choose (as in a prevenient grace view) but a grace-changed heart so that we will freely choose God. No matter how free our choice, unless the effects of original sin in us are undone, we continue freely to choose sin and to reject God. The Spirit, then, takes away hearts of stone and gives instead beating hearts of flesh that can respond to God. He gives eyes to see the light he shines as well as the light itself.</p>
<p>The essential disagreement between the two views is to whom the Spirit gives such eyes: to all men who hear the gospel, or only to the elect. Based on Paul’s arguments in 1 Corinthians, Ephesians, and elsewhere, I take it to be the latter. If the Spirit opened everyone’s eyes to see truly the goodness of God, if he gave to everyone hearts of flesh rather than hearts of stone all would believe. Regeneration logically precedes (but temporally coincides with) faith: the unregenerate heart cannot and does not believe. So the Spirit gives hearts that can and do believe, and in that very moment, we believe. The Spirit gives us not only the opportunity to exercise faith, but also the faith that we exercise.</p>
<p>However the act of regeneration is accomplished, the Spirit is efficaciously at work. In both views, the gospel <em>is</em> powerful for salvation—whether by tilling the soil or by actually causing the seed to sprout. People hear the gospel and the Spirit uses that mightily. Then, once people have believed, the Holy Spirit continues to work. He immediately indwells the believer, giving our mortal bodies spiritual vitality. Thus Paul says that the same Spirit who raised Christ from the dead is now at work in all believers. This indwelling seals our conversion, ensuring we hold fast until we die or Christ returns. He increasingly shapes our behaviors and attitudes to be more in line with those of God, making us holy as God is holy.</p>
<p>In short, the Spirit is the one who makes Christ’s work effective for salvation. He enables and empowers the gospel to produce conversion.</p>
When My Great-(×80)-Grandparents Lived2014-04-03T07:00:00-04:002014-04-03T07:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-03:/2014/when-my-great-x80-grandparents-lived.html<p>One of the more astonishing doctrines we Christians advance is the idea that documents written to a group of people almost wholly other than us millennia ago are relevant to our own lives today. Today, for example, I read from 2 Corinthians (mid first century A.D.), Proverbs (written early in the 10th century B.C. and mostly likely compiled into its final form sometime around the 6th century B.C.), and Psalms (similar to Proverbs, perhaps in this particular case with a slightly earlier date of composition and later date of completion). In other words, I am reading a words penned anywhere from about 3,000 to about 2,000 years ago.</p>
<p>About twenty years separate me from my father, and he from his. A “generation” is something like twenty to twenty-five years. Call it twenty-five for good measure. Then it has been between 80 and 120 human lives since these books were written. That distance in time is almost unfathomable.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> And yet we have the audacity to say the Paul’s letters, Solomon’s proverbs, and David’s poetry have something to say to us today. More than that, we claim that God expressly intended that we read these books as his revelation of himself to us <em>today</em>. Not, to be sure, in the sense that we act as if 2 Corinthians is a letter addressed to us (though I have heard this articulation bandied around in simplistic fashion, usually in the context of trying to motivate people into reading their Bibles) but in the sense that God’s work in <em>those</em> people’s lives at <em>that</em> time was recorded in such a way as to be a comprehensible revelation of the character and desires of the living God whom we serve <em>today</em>.</p>
<p>We are not without warrant in making this claim. Those intervening centuries have seen the church flourish and grow under the guidance of the Scriptures, and never more so than when listening most carefully to the ways God has revealed himself in the Scriptures themselves. New light is <em>always</em> shining forth into the church from these ancient pages, because the Spirit of God is always at work using these old words to confront new people.</p>
<p>There are two realities here: a lesser and a greater one. The lesser is that people have not changed. Many of the particulars of our circumstances have, of course. I read these words from a tablet this morning, and I am typing on a laptop—a pair of devices that certainly would have astounded anyone in the original audiences. Modernity is extraordinarily different from all that preceded it <em>many</em> ways. But these are mere externals; the human heart is the same as it has ever been. We are still troubled, broken, rebels against the King of the universe, desperately in need of salvation from both the guilt and the power of sin in our lives and of reconciliation with our maker and with each other.</p>
<p>The greater reality is that God has not changed, and it is the Holy Spirit that makes these vintage texts work life among us. The same God who put his breath in man put his breath in these texts<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> He breathes through them into the life of his people today, so that what was said then means something now. This is miraculous on many levels: that the words penned then were able to be profitable for so long, that they were so well preserved, and that we are enabled to hear them. The work of the Spirit is often reduced to his visibly and obviously miraculous doings—healings, tongues, etc.—but I think this is one of the greatest works done at the Spirit’s hand. This reality leads us to worship, as it should, and as it is meant to.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>If we write out all the greats in the chain back to my ancestors who lived when these words were being written, the <em>shorter</em> version comes to this: roughly my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents were walking around then.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>We translate from the Greek <em>theopneustos</em> to “inspired” because the Authorized Version did—but “God-breathed” would be equally accurate. That is exactly what “inspired by God” meant when King James was alive: to be “inspired” is simply to be breathed into, from Latin <em>in-</em> (‘in/into’) + <em>spirare</em> (‘breathe’).<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Suffering in the Lives of the Saints2014-04-02T07:00:00-04:002014-04-02T07:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-02:/2014/suffering-in-the-lives-of-the-saints.htmlPsalm 69 and 2 Corinthians 4–6 point us to a truly Christian way of thinking about suffering: neither pretending it is nothing, nor making it everything, but calling it terrible but God greater.
<p>The confluence of Psalm 69 and 2 Corinthians 4–6 in my reading this morning highlighted quite profoundly the reality of struggle and pain in the lives of those who follow Yahweh.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> In both cases, the authors deal plainly with the reality of suffering in their lives, and in both cases, they ultimately turn the audience’s eye away from that suffering to God—not diminishing the suffering, but putting a terminus on it and giving it clarity.</p>
<p>In the Psalm, we see David (quite rightly) walking the line we all so often walk between complaint and praise. He calls out to God for help and deliverance and points out the unjust nature of their attack on him. He repeatedly points to God’s character and pleads for justice. He calls on God to act in line with his steadfast love and his mercy (Ps. 69:16), because it was for God that David suffered. And he praises God for his goodness, even though the structure of the poem seems to leave David still in his suffering. The conclusion of the psalm is the turn from “But I am afflicted and in pain; / let your salvation, O God, set me on high!” (Ps. 69:29) to “I will praise the name of God with a song…” (Ps. 69:30)—not, it seems, because God <em>had</em> delivered but because David trusted that he <em>would</em>.</p>
<p>Likewise, in 2 Corinthians Paul repeatedly emphasizes the extent to which suffering characterized his ministry and indeed dominated his life. These passages are some of the dearest in the New Testament to believers suffering for the sake of Christ, because they deal truly and honestly with the pain, but also deal in hope. God shone light in our hearts, Paul rejoices, but we have his treasure in earthen vessels that are “afflicted in every way” and which are “always carrying in the body the death of Jesus” (2 Cor. 4:6,7–12). Paul can see the purpose of this suffering clearly—it is that the Corinthians and all the other believers will have the life of Jesus (2 Cor. 4:11)—but this does not for a moment diminish the reality of the suffering he and his companions endured. Nor does Paul feel the need to diminish his sufferings in order to point to God’s goodness; quite the contrary, in fact! In chapter 6, he goes on to describe at length all the <em>kinds</em> of suffering he had endured for the sake of the gospel.</p>
<p>For those who, like David and Paul, hope in Yahweh and seek to do his will, there will be suffering. Those who preach the gospel will find rejection, pain, and toil everywhere. Even ordinary believers—those of us less outsized in our endeavors than the Davids and Pauls of the story—will find in our lives suffering that pushes us to decide how we will answer. Will we follow David’s example and conclude our lament and our pleading with praise (Ps. 69:30–36)? Will we follow Paul’s example and hold fast to the hope of an “eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4:17–18) being prepared for us? Will we refuse to diminish the extent of our suffering but also refuse to let our suffering diminish God? Or will we take the easy paths out: to make little of the pains of the age on the one hand (quite dishonestly) or to refuse to praise God because we experience suffering (blasphemously)?</p>
<p>The call, for all of us, is to look the sufferings of the present age head on, to recognize them in all their horror, and to call God greater still. Not to pretend the sufferings are small things, but to see that they are “light and momentary” (2 Cor. 4:17) by comparison with what God is doing <em>eternally</em>. Not to act as those the situations in our lives do not pain us our trouble us, but to call God good and to lead others to worship him <em>anyway</em>.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Much of my thinking here is shaped quite actively by Eugene Peterson’s <em>Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work</em>, especially the chapter on Lamentations. The volume is well worth your time.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Repeated Call to Humility2014-04-01T06:40:00-04:002014-04-01T06:40:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-04-01:/2014/a-repeated-call-to-humility.htmlEvery time I come back to Proverbs 1, I am confronted again with the necessity of humbling myself before our transcendently wise God.<p>Every time I come back around to Proverbs 1 I find myself all the more challenged to pursue wisdom. This month will be my third time through the book this year, since I have been reading it start to finish each month (save February, where I read through some of the other Wisdom literature). I had not spent much time with the Proverbs over the past few years, in part because I had struggled to and not known how to integrate them with the broader flow of the Scriptures. Several things persuaded me to integrate them into my daily reading this year. First of all, this is the word of God! All of it is profitable for us—enough said. Second, as I have walked further into adulthood, I have increasingly recognized the need for wisdom, whether in my own life or in caring for other believers. The world is a hard and complicated place this side of the New Jerusalem, and it is only by having deep, sound, Godly wisdom that we can walk it well.</p>
<p>The book tells us its purpose from the outset:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">To know wisdom and instruction,<br />
to understand words of insight,<br />
to receive instruction in wise dealing,<br />
in righteousness, justice, and equity;<br />
to give prudence to the simple,<br />
knowledge and discretion to the youth—<br />
Let the wise hear and increase in learning,<br />
and the one who understands obtain guidance,<br />
to understand a proverb and a saying,<br />
the words of the wise and their riddles.</div>
<p class="citation">
—Proverbs 1:2–6
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then it tells us how this will all be accomplished:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">The fear of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> is the beginning of knowledge;<br />
fools despise wisdom and instruction.</div>
<p class="citation">
—Proverbs 1:7
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So here I am again, being reminded that “the fear of Yahweh is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.” (In some sense, that made me bordering on a fool for several years as I skipped over this simply because I did not understand it. Shouldn’t the response be exactly the opposite?) If I want to understand mysteries and riddles, to understand proverbs and sayings, to receiving instruction in wise dealing, righteousness, justice, and equity, to become prudent and knowledgeable and wise, to increase in learning, to obtain guidance—and who would not want these things?—then I start by fearing Yahweh.</p>
<p>Situated against the backdrop of the canon, this opening is all the more compelling. It is not fear of God generically that is the beginning of wisdom, nor even knowledge that there is a creator. It is personal knowledge of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, of <em>Yahweh</em>, the covenant God of Israel. This cannot be separated from knowing who Yahweh is as he is revealed in the rest of Scripture. Yet if I am truly to grow in knowledge and understanding of righteousness—one of the chief topics of the Bible!—then I must come time and again to these words, and seek wisdom. I must time and again humble myself before our Creator-Savior-God and recognize that my own wisdom and the wisdom of the world around me is ultimately bankrupt. I have nothing to teach God; from him I have everything to learn.</p>
<p>And it can only be learned in that posture of humility before transcendent wisdom that surpasses human understanding. That is the lesson of <em>Qoheleth</em> (Ecclesiastes): as we turn and begin to seek wisdom on our own, we will increasingly fall into folly. No wonder, then, that immediately following the invitation to be wise here in Proverbs 1, in Lady Wisdom’s first monologue, comes a rebuke and a warning to fools and simpletons who do not seek true wisdom. It is an easy enough course to take—the easiest, the most natural for us as fallen people—but it is deadly. There is a cost when I fail to fear Yahweh and keep his ways.</p>
No Resurrection, No Dice2014-03-31T07:20:00-04:002014-03-31T07:20:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-31:/2014/no-resurrection-no-dice.htmlPaul’s hammer-stroke at the end of 1 Corinthians reminds us that without the resurrection, Christians have nothing—but with it, everything.<p>After quietly but insistently weaving the theme through the whole book, Paul comes at the end of 1 Corinthians to one of the most resounding statements of gospel hope anywhere in the Bible in chapter 15. And this proclamation of the gospel centers on the <em>risen</em> Lord.</p>
<p>Every since reading N. T. Wright’s magnificent <a href="http://www.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?event=AFF&p=1179430&item_no=26794"><em>The Resurrection of the Son of God</em></a> a few years ago, I have become increasingly aware of the way that the resurrection pervades the New Testament. As evangelicals, we are mostly a crucicentric people, focused quite <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2014/the-atonement-leon-morris.html">narrowly and specifically</a> on the atoning work of Jesus on the cross. This is good, to an extent: if we <em>lose</em> the atonement, we have lost the gospel. On the other hand, I am ever more aware, as I listen to sermon after sermon, that we simply do not preach the resurrection of Christ enough. Certainly, we do not follow closely the example of the church in Acts and the apostles in their writings, where the resurrection is always front and center, and where as Paul puts it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain. We are even found to be misrepresenting God, because we testified about God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if it is true that the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.</p>
<p>—1 Corinthians 15:14–17 ESV</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Over and over again, Paul hammers home the reality that we are saved from our sins—we are justified—by the resurrection of Christ no less than by his death (cf. Romans 4:25). Indeed, with his death alone we would be lost, trapped, dead just as we were before his coming. But with his resurrection we participate in the life of the Godhead. He has died the death we ought to die, and in this we rejoice. But we rejoice all the more that he is the firstfruits of the final triumph over both sin and death in the resurrection from the dead. In Jesus we do not have merely an exemplary martyr for the cause of right living—we have a risen Lord.</p>
<p>Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 refuses to let us take the death of Christ as sufficient on its own. He refuses to let us think that things end when we die. He refuses to let people embrace a view of life that ends with the here and now. As ever, he points to eschatalogical<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> hope. The bodies we inhabit will be made new—not replaced, but transformed into something glorious. We walk in the light of the age to come, in the world which with us groans for redemption but not for a moment believing that the here-and-now is all there is.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>As a side note, can we please stop saying this like “scatalogical” with an ‘e’ tacked onto the front? The ‘e’ gets the emphasis, just as it does in “eschaton”, and the ‘a’ sounds roughly like “uh” (or if you want to sound precise, “ah”).<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Submitting to Scripture2014-03-28T20:45:00-04:002014-03-28T20:45:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-28:/2014/submitting-to-scripture.htmlTwice today I thought about the Spirit's inspiration of Scripture. One of those times I had to repent—and the other, I got to worship.<p>It is shocking how easy is to fall into our culture’s unbiblical ways of thinking in little ways—little ways that add up over time. Today’s reading in 1 Corinthians brought that home to me in a very real way. In the middle of 1 Corinthians 11, Paul comments that the reason that some of the Corinthians had become ill and others had even died was because they had been taking communion in a manner unworthy of Christ (1 Cor. 11:30). Just after reading it, I thought something like, <em>Paul is just spiritualizing, because that’s not really what happened.</em></p>
<p>And then I stopped, rather shocked by the thought that had just run through my head. What Paul asserts is <em>exactly</em> what happened; to say it was otherwise is flatly to deny the inerrancy and authority of Scripture. I am not for an uncareful doctrine of inerrancy any more than were those who carefully articulated it for in the latter part of the 19th century. I am all for a thorough doctrine of inerrancy, and I think we lose a great deal the moment we begin to think ourselves wiser than the Spirit of God who superintended the writing of the Scriptures. So I had opportunity immediately to repent and to submit my mind again to what God says.</p>
<p>Were there many things Paul did not know about how illness worked? Yes. But whatever the means of God’s effecting those Corinthian believers’ illnesses and deaths, they were nonetheless the judgment of our all-powerful God on his church so that we would know that he requires us to regard highly the sacraments he instituted. Whenever we find ourselves in a place where our minds butt up against the clear teaching of Scripture, we need to be willing to change our minds, plain and simple. We submit to Scripture; we do not require that Scripture submit to us.</p>
<p>Indeed, the contrast between my two separate times of personal reflection on the nature of the word of God today could not be starker. There, in my devotional reading, I was second-guessing Paul and the Spirit of God. Later in the day, as I worked on a short reflection paper (to be published in late April after it is due in class), I spent a substantial section of the paper focusing on the Spirit’s work of preparing the Scriptures and opening our eyes to see them. There, I was led to grateful worship in awe of what the Helper whom the Father sent us has done on our behalf so that we might see God.</p>
<p>It was a matter of just a few hours between these two radically different encounters with the authority of Scripture. A few hours and a lot of much-needed repentance and much-needed grace from the Spirit to open my eyes and transform my understanding so that I could see the Holy One’s revelation and worship instead of seize up with skepticism. May it be so more and more in my life.</p>
Soul History2014-03-28T13:05:00-04:002014-03-28T13:05:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-28:/2014/soul-history.html<blockquote>
<p>The short story is the pastoral form for narrating <em>Heilsgeschichte</em> (salvation history) in the vocabulary of <em>Seelsgeschichte</em> (soul history). In the <em>Heilsgeschichte</em> of Judges, for instance, the enmity of the Midianiites is kerygmatically integrated into the historical narrative and shown to be a part of salvation; in the <em>Seelsgeschichte</em> of …</p></blockquote><blockquote>
<p>The short story is the pastoral form for narrating <em>Heilsgeschichte</em> (salvation history) in the vocabulary of <em>Seelsgeschichte</em> (soul history). In the <em>Heilsgeschichte</em> of Judges, for instance, the enmity of the Midianiites is kerygmatically integrated into the historical narrative and shown to be a part of salvation; in the <em>Seelsgeschichte</em> of Ruth the bitter emptiness of Naomi is pastorally attended to under the dynamics of providence and guided to a concluding fullness. In the <em>Heilsgeschichte</em> of Exodus the formidable and unyielding Egyptians are judged and defeated in the catastrophic plagues and miraculous sea crossing; in the <em>Seelsgeschichte</em> of Ruth the everday ordinariness of gleaning in the barley fields is used as a means for accomplishing redemption. In the <em>Heilsgeschichte</em> of Joshua the gigantically walled fortress Jericho is surrounded and conquered by the total community of God in colorful parade, accompanied by brilliantly sounding trumpets, and the promised land is entered; in the <em>Seelsgeschichte</em> of Ruth an old levirate law is patiently and quietly worked through by some old men at the city gates of provincial Bethlehem, and a link is forged in the genealogical chain of the Messiah.</p>
</blockquote>
From Redemption to Creation2014-03-27T07:27:00-04:002014-03-27T07:27:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-27:/2014/from-redemption-to-creation.htmlPsalm 65’s move from redemption to creation—instead of the other way around—surprised me in the best way possible.<p>The structure of Psalm 65 surprised me. The psalm opens with a declaration of God’s worthiness of praise and a statement of his atonement<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> and righteousness on behalf of his saints, then moves to a depiction of his power in creation. For some reason, I expected the Psalmist to move the other direction if he were going to bring these two things together in a single Psalm. Perhaps it is the way we often tell the story in explaining the gospel—creation, fall, redemption, restoration—but moving from salvation from sins and reconciliation with God to creation caught me off guard.</p>
<p>So often, I fall into a bad habit of separating the attributes of God—as though God were a collection of properties and not <em>persons</em> who all share in the same nature. We cannot separate his creative nature from his saving love for us any more than we can separate the same kinds of things in ourselves. Do I write poetry for my wife because I am creative,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> or because I am loving? Both, of course: any split between the two is a false disjunction. When I write her a poem, I am drawing on multiple facets of my personality and exercising multiple faculties and bending my will to accomplish one end <em>through</em> another end. One can write poetry for its own sake, and one can love one’s wife without poetry, and one can write poetry for one’s wife. Bringing the two together is no strange thing.</p>
<p>So it is with God, and so this psalm reminds us. God creates because he is creative, and also he creates because of his love for his creatures. He delighted to make a good world for us. In creation he demonstrates his power and his wisdom, and in creation he also demonstrates his deep and abiding affection for those whom he created. The particularity of God’s relationship to his covenant people (“God in Zion,” Psalm 65:1) is inseparable from his relationship to all the world (“the hope of all the ends of the earth,” 65:5). Then, when the Psalmist moves from the specificity of God-in-Zion’s redemption for iniquities to the fact that he created the world and maintains it, he shows us the unity of God’s love and the inseparability of his actions. It is not as if God provides rain for all the world out of duty or obligation; he does so because he delights to do good toward we his children—even in our rebellion! The result is that “those who dwell at the ends of the earth are in awe at [his] signs” (65:8). God’s atonement, reconciling his people, doing righteousness and justice, and his creative and sustaining power in creation all come around to the same end: the world worshipping him, the world in right relation with him.</p>
<p>So with David, and with the meadows, I want to “shout and sing together for joy” (65:13) at all the works of the God in Zion. It is good to be surprised.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Not the point of today’s meditations, but nonetheless worth note: contra many an overly simplified evangelical presentation of the relationship between the eras before and after the Incarnation, Old Testament believers relied on God for their salvation from sins just as we do. They knew that he was the one who atoned for them (Psalm 65:3) and that it was he who brought them near, not the other way around (Psalm 65:4).<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>No claim here that I am particularly <em>good</em> at poetry, mind, but Jaimie seems to like it, and that is good enough for me.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Miscellanies, 26 March 20132014-03-26T06:30:00-04:002014-03-26T06:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-26:/2014/miscellanies-26-march-2013.htmlSome devotional thoughts on Psalm 64, Proverbs 26, and 1 Corinthians 4–6.<p>Today’s passages did not connect in any particular way in my head, but all bear some reflection. Perhaps by the time I am done writing, I will see a connection.</p>
<section id="psalm-64" class="level6">
<h6>Psalm 64</h6>
<p>Reading through the Psalms often serves as a reminder for me that the easy way of life I enjoy is not normal either in historical terms or in normative terms for the people of God. Suffering and opposition are <em>ordinary</em>, so much so that prayers for deliverance from the plots of the enemies of God are themselves ordinary in the Psalms. Certainly for David such things were a regular part of his life, and so it has been for many believers throughout the ages, and so it is today for many around the world.</p>
<p>The Psalm does not stop with the acknowledgement that there are people in the world would do God’s people harm, though. It moves immediately on to the reality that God delivers his people. The inversion is striking: those who lay in ambush, who “shoot arrows” at the innocent find <em>God’s</em> arrows coming for them (Psalm 64:4,7). In the small narrative arc this song traces out, the ambushers who set out to destroy the righteous are themselves destroyed. Their destruction leads all the world to magnify God. The righteous rejoice in Yahweh, take refuge in him, and exult.</p>
<p>It strikes me that in a way, this arc is a very short telling of the arc of history itself. The enemies of God have a time in which they can work, but ultimately they will be ended, and all the earth will be filled with the glory of Yahweh.</p>
</section>
<section id="proverbs-26" class="level6">
<h6>Proverbs 26</h6>
<p>The first half of this chapter is a sequence of comparisons: increasingly terrible or ridiculous things with a fool.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> The fact that the fool comes off looking absurd is the point—so that when we get to Proverbs 26:12, the conclusion is all the more forceful:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Do you see a man who is wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As bad as it is to be a fool—a point that both the book as a whole and the preceding ten verses have labored to make clear—being wise in one’s own eyes is even worse.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> The book has made clear over and over again that there is basically no hope for a fool, though Wisdom is still inviting even fools to turn from their ways (Proverbs 8:5). But for the man who is wise in his own eyes, what recourse is there?<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a></p>
</section>
<section id="first-corinthians-46" class="level6">
<h6>First Corinthians 4–6</h6>
<p>What better picture of reliance on one’s own wisdom than the church at Corinth? One can nearly see Paul tearing his hair out over this church, which seemed determined to run off into the weeds in every possible way. By the end of chapter 6, he has already addressed factionalism, sexual immorality of an extraordinary sort, and Christians suing each other in court. Moreover, he has had to deal with the fact that they considered themselves wiser than the apostles (basically throughout all of chapter 4). Following this so-called wisdom was destroying them.</p>
<p>A few highlights that particularly caught my attention here:</p>
<ol type="1">
<li>Paul admonished his audience to judge themselves rightly, but to remember that even in their own self-judgment they had to acknowledge that God alone knows all our faults.</li>
<li>As for outsiders, the church was not to “judge” them, leaving that to God. Judgment here must imply something besides moral assessment, however, because Paul explicitly calls out the follies of the unregenerate world (e.g. sexual immorality, greed, swindling, idolatry—see 1 Corinthians 5:10). It means rather that the Corinthians’ response was not to be the rejection enjoined of them as regarded unrepentant people in their own midst. The church exercises discipline on its members, not on the world.</li>
<li>When Paul encourages the Corinthians to reject sexual immorality, he grounds it in the resurrection. Indeed, Paul turns to the resurrection about as often (and perhaps more often) as to the cross in this book—a point N. T. Wright’s delightful and excellent <em>The Resurrection of the Son of God</em> makes forcefully. God raised Jesus from the dead, and he will raise us from the dead, so we ought to regard our bodies accordingly. They are temples of God indwelt by the Spirit, and ultimately destined for glory. <em>That</em> is why we ought to flee sexual immorality.</li>
</ol>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Interrupting the sequence is the classic wisdom paradox of the book: Proverbs 26:4–5, withits paired injunctions to answer and not to answer a fool according to his folly.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>The rhetorical force of the placement of this particular set of proverbs near the end of the book, as well as the structure of this section, is one of many arguments for a coherent editorial strategy in the creation of Proverbs. All you have to do is read the book to get this.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>This verse is one of the keys in my understanding of Ecclesiastes: <em>Qoheleth</em> was wise in his own eyes, and it nearly destroyed him.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
God Become Man: Toward a Richer Theology of the Incarnation2014-03-25T08:00:00-04:002014-03-25T08:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-25:/2014/god-become-man-toward-a-richer-theology-of-the-incarnation.htmlLink: My latest piece over at Mere Orthodoxy, on the Incarnation.<p>My latest piece over at Mere Orthodoxy (and the first such in too long):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It has been common these past few years to speak of “incarnational theology” as a way of describing the Christian mission to the world: we ought to “incarnate” Christ to the world as Christ “incarnated” the Godhead to us. There is much to appreciate in this sentiment…. Yet for all that, I think that applying the language of incarnation to believers is a serious mistake.</p>
<p>The Incarnation matters, and it matters as more than a means of getting Jesus to the cross so that he could die for our sins. We evangelicals too often reduce everything to penal substitutionary atonement. Yes, the atonement is incredible and amazing. It is one of the central affirmations and joys of the Christian faith: our sins are paid for! Glory to God! But Jesus did more than that, and he is worthy of yet more praise. He did not stop at paying the price for our sins while leaving our bodies subject to corruption. He did not content himself with performing a judicial act while leaving our wills broken, certain to turn again to the same sin that led to our death in the first place.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I think <a href="http://mereorthodoxy.com/god-become-man-richer-theology-incarnation/">this</a> is the best thing I’ve written so far this year; I hope you find it stimulating.</p>
Surprising Unity2014-03-25T07:10:00-04:002014-03-25T07:10:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-25:/2014/surprising-unity.htmlThe fount of the "surprising unity" that should characterize the church is the work of the Triune God.<p>The surprising unity<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> of the church has been a recurring theme on my mind lately. Reading through 1 Corinthians was sure to bring the notion back to the forefront, of course: the book has several prominent topics, but unity is the one to which Paul returns again and again and the one with which he opens the book. The first few chapters are an indictment of the Corinthians for their factionalism, punctuated<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> by a theological grounding for that indictment.</p>
<p>In terms of structure, Paul’s epistles to the Corinthians are fairly unique among his writings. Unlike the normal structure of his letters, in which there are fairly clear divisions between expository and hortatory material (though with the requisite qualification that he is often including some exhortations during the exposition and vice versa), his letters to the Corinthians are constantly jumping back and forth between the two. He makes a point, grounds it in the nature of the gospel, and then repeats. First Corinthians circles back to the theme of unity over and over again in this fashion.</p>
<p>In 1 Corinthians 1:18–2, Paul explains the call to unity he laid out in chapter 1 and to which he returns in chapter 3 in terms of Christ’s and the Spirit’s work. What Christ did looked like an incomprehensible weakness to the Jews who were expecting their messiah to come in power, and incomprehensible folly to the Greeks who expected any true leader to come in a demonstration of wisdom. Both of these Jesus set on their heads. In this surprising inversion—so typical of Christ’s work—is forged the grounds for Christian unity. None of us have cause for boasting; God is our wisdom and our power, our righteousness and sanctification and redemption.</p>
<p>All of this is accomplished in our midst by the Spirit. Not only do we have nothing apart from Jesus Christ, but we cannot even rightly appropriate him and what he offers on our own. This strength and wisdom we have in Christ is mediated by the Spirit of God. What Paul taught, he taught not in human wisdom by “by the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:13), and only those who were empowered by the Spirit could understand them. They were (and are) folly to anyone who is operating in human understanding alone.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a></p>
<p>The unity of the church, which is one of the ways that the world knows us as Christ’s (per the Gospel of John) is, like everything in our faith ultimately a gift from the Triune God. We must actively obey the call to unity, and it will not happen without our effort, but it is Father-given, Son-mediated, Spirit- empowered obedience to walk in a Father-given, Son-mediated, Spirit-empowered way. In some sense, this is <em>all</em> of our sanctification: learning more and more to obey in humble dependence on God who is our all in all.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>A phrase I borrowed from one our pastors at First Baptist Durham, Dr. Andy Davis.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>You can almost think of the structure as analogous to a sentence with content set off by an em-dash—like so, with some explanatory comment here in the middle—and then continuing to a conclusion. Yes, that’s an absurdly nerdy comparison.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>One might suggest that the issue is <em>fallen</em> human understanding, and this is right so far as it goes… but the reason fallen human understanding fails is because it is not reliant on God. Unfallen, or restored, human understanding is wise precisely because it fears Yahweh (cf. Proverbs 1:7).<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Almost Too Good To Be Believed2014-03-24T07:10:00-04:002014-03-24T07:10:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-24:/2014/almost-too-good-to-be-believed.htmlThe final chapters of Luke are absolutely packed with material. They show us our fallen humanity and the wonder of our Lord's work side by side.<p>The final chapters of Luke are absolutely <em>packed</em> with material. The chapters sweep from the Jewish leaders’ plot with Judas to get Jesus’ turned over to them, through Jesus’ celebration of the Passover with his disciples,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> through his prayers in the garden and betrayal by Judas, through his multiple farcical trials, through his brutal crucifixion and death, to his resurrection from the dead and revelation of himself as the Anointed One of God to his disciples. Luke’s narrative up to this point has a fairly measured pace, with a great deal of time devoted to long stretches of Jesus’ teaching, but here at the climax event piles on event in a way that seems designed to take one’s breath away. <em>Here</em> is the finale toward which Jesus had been pointing ever since the <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2014/lukes-hinge.html">hinge in the book</a> back in the ninth chapter: his death and resurrection.</p>
<p>A few observations that particularly stood out to me today. First, when Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, he also told his disciples of the betrayal that would shortly come at one of their hands, and they were troubled. They “began to question one another, which of them it could be who was going to do this” (Luke 22:23). What Luke drops in next is a surprise:<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> at the same time, they started arguing about who was the greatest (22:24). They did not recognize that the same basic impulse that would motivate one of them to betray the one they confessed as Lord and Messiah—fallen human self-absorption and self-interest—also motivated this discussion of greatness. Jesus upends this, pointing out here that he had come “as the one who serves” (22:7). Their reward would be greater than any of them could wish: being enthroned beside him to judge the twelve tribes of Israel—but because they had stayed with him in his trials, not because of their own inherent greatness (22:28–30).</p>
<p>Jesus instructed the disciples to sell a cloak to buy a sword, learned that they had a pair of swords, and told them that it was enough (22:37–38). Then, when the disciples actually went to use those swords, Jesus forbade them, and undid what they had done. It is almost as if he made sure that they had the swords there precisely so that he could teach this object lesson. The Anointed One of God came not to kill but to be killed, just as he had come not to be served but to serve.</p>
<p>In his trial, Jesus simply did not answer his accusers. They took his silence, and his acknowledgment that they were accusing him, as all the proof they needed. Why? Because they needed no more proof than their accusations. Interestingly, both Herod and Pilate clearly abuse their authority, causing Jesus to be mocked and beaten even while admitting that they found nothing for which he ought to be punished (still less crucified). Pilate in particular comes off looking terrible: he repeatedly tells the crowd that he can see no reason why Jesus ought to be crucified, and that he intends to let him go, but caves to the pressure of the crowd (23:1–25). The fear of man can lead us to do wretched things. Pilate decided to release a murderer and insurrectionist—the latter being precisely the crime of which Jesus was accused!—instead of an innocent man, because of the demands of a crowd.</p>
<p>Barabbas himself strikes me as an interesting figure in Luke’s narrative. He was what Jesus was accused of being, and he went free with Jesus taking his place. Every time I read through this passage, it strikes me again that Luke gave us here a clear picture of the substitutionary work of Christ on our behalf. Here we have a man who clearly deserved his punishment under the law of his day, going free with Jesus being punished instead. I have no idea whether Barabbas ever truly appreciated what happened to him, by which I mean whether he repented of his sins and believed in the one who was his substitute in more ways than one. I do know that the picture, especially when set side by side with Paul’s teaching on the topic, reminds me that <em>I</em> am like Barabbas in the story: set free because of Jesus’ going in my stead.</p>
<p>Finally, I love reading the narratives of the resurrection. It was then as it is now: too good to be true, almost too good to be believed. The disciples, though Jesus had taught them that he would die and be resurrected, simply did not grasp his meaning. Even when they were told that he had been raised, they did not believe it until he showed himself to them—and then they thought they saw a ghost until he convinced them by eating some fish! The resurrection was in no one’s game plan but God’s. But now it is our future hope and our joyful expectation as well. And it is because of the resurrection from the dead that they went, and that we go to proclaim repentance and forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name to all nations (Luke 24:46–47).</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Apparently a couple days early, based on Luke’s comments in chapter 23 and John’s narrative.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Though yet again one obscured by the <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2014/money-parables-and-divorce-and-remarriage.html">blasted heading markers inserted in the text</a>.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Money Parables and Divorce and Remarriage2014-03-19T21:56:00-04:002014-03-19T21:56:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-19:/2014/money-parables-and-divorce-and-remarriage.htmlLuke 16:18 points us to something beyond just divorce and remarriage—though it is hard to see for all the heading markers in the text.<p>I have said it before and I will say it again: I really quite detest the heading text in modern English Bible translations. That might seem a strange way to open a devotions post, but it connects. Trust me.</p>
<p>I was reading through Luke 14, 15, and 16 this morning, trying to put the various pieces of the narratives together in the way that Luke intended. Whenever I am reading, I am always trying to understand the text <em>as a text</em>, because that is how it was created and how God inspired it. The words we read are not abstract things, magic talismanic elements we can mix together as we please. The authors did things intentionally, as any good author does, and if we are paying attention, we will learn things from the construction of the books as we read them.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>So there I was, working my way through Luke 16, and I came to a verse about which I have thought a great deal because of its implications for pastoral ministry, laid out thus in the ESV:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>…it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one dot of the Law to become void.</p>
<h4 id="divorce-and-remarriage">Divorce and Remarriage</h4>
<p>“Everyone who divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery, and he who marries a woman divroced from her husband commits adultery.”</p>
<h4 id="the-rich-man-and-lazarus">The Rich Man and Lazarus</h4>
<p>“There was a rich man…”</p>
<p>—Luke 16:17–19a</p>
</blockquote>
<p>On its face, Luke 16:18 is fairly straightforward—granting that the amount of ink spilled over the issues of divorce and remarriage means it is not <em>totally</em> straightforward. But the straightforwardness of the statement is much diminished if we separate out those headings and situate the verse in its broader context. Here is the whole chapter (which is <em>perhaps</em> just enough context). I have bolded 16:18 below, and removed all the headings. To feel the full force of the issue, I really do recommend you read the whole thing.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He also said to the disciples, "There was a rich man who had a manager, and charges were brought to him that this man was wasting his possessions. And he called him and said to him, ‘What is this that I hear about you? Turn in the account of your management, for you can no longer be manager.’ And the manager said to himself, ‘What shall I do, since my master is taking the management away from me? I am not strong enough to dig, and I am ashamed to beg. I have decided what to do, so that when I am removed from management, people may receive me into their houses.’ So, summoning his master’s debtors one by one, he said to the first, ‘How much do you owe my master?’ He said, ‘A hundred measures of oil.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, and sit down quickly and write fifty.’ Then he said to another, ‘And how much do you owe?’ He said, ‘A hundred measures of wheat.’ He said to him, ‘Take your bill, and write eighty.’ The master commended the dishonest manager for his shrewdness. For the sons of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than the sons of light. And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings.</p>
<p>“One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much, and one who is dishonest in a very little is also dishonest in much. If then you have not been faithful in the unrighteous wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches? And if you have not been faithful in that which is another’s, who will give you that which is your own? No servant can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money.”</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>The Pharisees, who were lovers of money, heard all these things, and they ridiculed him. And he said to them, "You are those who justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts. For what is exalted among men is an abomination in the sight of God.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>"The Law and the Prophets were until John; since then the good news of the kingdom of God is preached, and everyone forces his way into it. But it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one dot of the Law to become void.</p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p><strong>"Everyone who divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery, and he who marries a woman divorced from her husband commits adultery.</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<p>“There was a rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate was laid a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who desired to be fed with what fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover, even the dogs came and licked his sores. The poor man died and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried, and in Hades, being in torment, he lifted up his eyes and saw Abraham far off and Lazarus at his side. And he called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the end of his finger in water and cool my tongue, for I am in anguish in this flame.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that you in your lifetime received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner bad things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in anguish. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, in order that those who would pass from here to you may not be able, and none may cross from there to us.’ And he said, ‘Then I beg you, father, to send him to my father’s house—for I have five brothers—so that he may warn them, lest they also come into this place of torment.’ But Abraham said, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them hear them.’ And he said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not hear Moses and the Prophets, neither will they be convinced if someone should rise from the dead.’”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>What in the <em>world</em> is this passage on divorce and remarriage doing in the middle of a discussion about handling wealth? Every other piece here fits together in a fairly obvious fashion. The parable about the rich man and Lazarus is clearly a rejoinder to the Pharisees attitude toward money. That attitude in turn was exposed by the Pharisees’ response to another parable about the relatively value of wealth in this life. Sandwiched between the two is this statement about divorce and remarriage—one that would seem perfectly clear on its own, but which set against the backdrop of this discussion on money seems to be aiming at something other than divorce and remarriage alone.</p>
<p>In truth, I am not entirely sure <em>what</em> Luke is doing here. My first guess, and one that Jaimie suggested as well when I pointed this out to her this morning, is that he is highlighting the way Jesus takes the law in contrast to the Pharisees. Whereas they were concerned with keeping the law in letter, he was concerned with the principle of the law. This is the same rhetorical move he makes in Matthew’s recounting of the Sermon on the Mount with this same issue, heightening the sense of the law by sharpening its demands on the listeners. “Here, you ‘righteous’ Pharisees,” Jesus seems to be saying, “I’ll see your legal requirements and raise you double that”—just before he goes on to hammer away yet more at their self-righteousness. That, in turn, makes the parables before and after this that much more convicting, that much more of a <a href="/2014/sell-your-possessions-and-give-to-the-needy.html">heart check</a>. That is to the good.</p>
<p>In truth, I am still not <em>sure</em> that is what is going on here; tomorrow I intend to spend some time looking at this issue in the commentaries. But the heading obscures that there is even a point to be seen here. I nearly missed it this morning. I <em>have</em> missed it in the past, nearly every time I read through this section. I am therefore all the more strongly resolved to read the books of the Bible as books—to find ways to get away from the headings, whenever possible, and let the text be the text, as it was written and as it was inspired.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>To make the point a bit more forcefully: Can you imagine taking apart Shakespeare and trying to understand one couplet from a sonnet apart from the rest of the sonnet? Or trying to understand Eliot’s <em>Four Quartets</em> by reading a line here and a line there? It would be absurd and laughable, and rightly so.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
North Korea Execution Fact Check2014-03-19T21:25:00-04:002014-03-19T21:25:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-19:/2014/north-korea-execution-fact-check.htmlThe story on the execution of 33 Christians in North Korea may not have been true… it is hard to tell, because we have a hard time getting information about anything in the country.<p>Christ and Pop Culture has some great follow-up on the link <a href="http://v4.chriskrycho.com/2014/north-korea-set-to-execute-33-christians.html">I posted</a> last week:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>If you run in certain Facebook circles, you’ve likely already read that North Korean leader Kim Jung-un has called for the execution of 33 North Korean Christians. According to the widely circulated reports, these 33 people were detained after it was discovered they had ties to Kim Jung-wook, a South Korean missionary whose arrest for religious activity last year has made international headlines….</p>
<p>But here’s the thing: No one can verify this call for executions actually took place.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>A great example of journalism done right, and of how Christians ought to carry ourselves in the public square. It matters whether our facts are right or not— even when the “message” might be right either way. The <a href="http://christandpopculture.com/33-christians-north-korea-really-execution/">whole thing</a> is worth your time.</p>
Sell Your Possessions and Give to the Needy2014-03-18T22:00:00-04:002014-03-18T22:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-18:/2014/sell-your-possessions-and-give-to-the-needy.htmlJesus tells us to sell our possessions and give to those in need. Most of us are not exactly doing that. Time for a heart check.<p>I was reading Luke 12 during my devotions this morning, and was struck again by the force of verses 32–34, where Jesus tells his gathered disciples:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give to the needy. Provide yourselves with moneybags that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Those words are compelling and troubling. “Sell your possessions and give to the needy.” These are not difficult to understand. Nor, in truth, are they particularly difficult to put into practice. The early church clearly saw that they should behave this way, and did so: just look at Acts 2:44–45, 4:32–35. This is not the pattern I see in the church around me today, for the most part. Nor, more worrisome, is it exactly the pattern of my own life.</p>
<p>To be sure, Jaimie and I have long since established habits of sacrificial giving.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> We aim to be generous with our things, not holding them tightly, as well as with our time and our home. We have aimed to be hospitable, to open our home to those who need space, and so on. But I am not sure that I would say we are always characterized by this. I do not think we have ever sold one of our things <em>in order</em> to be willing to give it to someone in need. As I ponder, I have no doubt that if one of our brothers or sisters in Christ were in great need—and especially one of those in our church—we would be willing to do so. But we have <em>not</em> done so, and so this passage forced me to think about a Christ-following ethic regarding our possessions.</p>
<p>I am sitting here typing this on a very nice computer, in a very nice home, with many niceties around me. I have no doubt that we could sell some of these things in order to have money to give to others. I am left wondering: <em>should</em> we? It does not seem to me to be possible always to be selling the things we have to give them to others. Eventually one would simply run out of things to sell.</p>
<p>I note, too, that the context here shows us that Jesus is addressing a very specific fault: worry about and pursuit of wealth. In this section he takes aim at dependence on material possessions for security, pointing us to trust in God instead of our things. He hammers away at the idea that we could somehow provide for ourselves better than God does. We reminds us that all we have will be destroyed in the end. He undercuts all our idolatry in this area. It would be easy, then, to say that his words here are illustrative to that end, and not really meaning quite what they seem to say. I think any such move would do the text an injustice. Jesus said what he said, and we had better pay attention. More: we had better obey.</p>
<p>It is not the having of things that is the problem, it seems to me. It is clinging to them. It is seeing them as more important than people. The question I pondered earlier is the important one: <em>Would Jaimie and I gladly part with possessions to serve others who are in need?</em> The answer to that is certainly yes—and indeed, we <em>have</em> parted generously with our money and our things in the past. We have not <em>sold</em> possessions to give the proceeds to others, but have at times foregone purchases to give the money to others, and we have given items themselves to others in need. We are moving in the right direction here. Nonetheless, the heart check is an important one, and one to which we prosperous Americans should return regularly. It is too easy for us to justify sitting in our comfort without regard to the needs around us, and to fail thereby to obey Jesus’ clear commands.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I thought about listing the ways we give, then thought better of it in light of <em>another</em> of Jesus’ commands about how we should think about and act about money.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
The Resurrection is Essential2014-03-18T08:00:00-04:002014-03-18T08:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-18:/2014/the-resurrection-is-essential.htmlWithout the resurrection, we are simply not saved. We are not justified, not delivered from death, and will not be resurrected.<p>Paul tells us that if Jesus was not raised from the dead, then we are still dead in our trespasses (1 Corinthians 15:17). This simple statement uncovers a great deal about the necessity of Christ’s resurrection as well as his death on our behalf, as does much of the rest of the New Testament’s view of the resurrection. Paul tells us, for example, that Christ died for our trespasses and was raised for our justification (Romans 4:25). Likewise, he notes Jesus’ resurrection from the dead is intrinsically linked to our own life (e.g. Romans 8:11). Moreover, we know that if Jesus was not raised from the dead, then neither will we be (1 Corinthians 15:16). We know that it was in the resurrection that Jesus was shown to be the Son of God in power (Romans 1:4) and thus the one who reigns over all things. Moreover, we note that the preaching of the apostles as recorded in Acts refers to the resurrection of Christ as the evidence that he is indeed the Jewish messiah and the judge of the earth— indeed, from Acts we see that the apostolic message <em>centered</em> on the resurrection of Christ. Likewise, the very shape of the gospels is such that each in its own way climaxes not with Jesus’ death but with his resurrection, as if to say that the central issue of our faith is not the death of Christ but his being raised from the dead.</p>
<p>As we put together all these pieces, it becomes clear that the resurrection is integral in our salvation. It is not merely the “seal” upon the work Jesus did at the cross, the evidence that the cross accomplished what it needed to. It is part and parcel of our salvation, in and of itself. It is true that the resurrection does indeed ratify the elements of the saving work of Christ that were accomplished on the cross, but this is not all that it does. It seems clear from the evidence of the New Testament that the resurrection itself is efficacious in saving us.</p>
<p>If our mortal bodies are corrupted by sin, as we know they are, and if the penalty of sin is death, as we know it is, then something more than payment for sin must happen. Payment for sin is necessary, and so Jesus’ substitutionary atonement in death on the cross is essential to our salvation. However, there is more that is essential to our salvation. Reconciliation between God and man began in the Incarnation, as in Jesus the Son of God united humanity and deity in perfect fellowship once again, and it was accomplished (though not yet finished) in the resurrection as Jesus took up a restored body in which the power of sin and death were finally broken: an image of what our bodies will be in the age to come.</p>
<p>Likewise, we know that if we die as things were before the Resurrection, even were our sins paid for, we remain mortal and would never rise again of our own merits. In his resurrection, Jesus triumphed over death—the last enemy—and we know that the same Spirit that raised him from the dead will raise us from the dead. We know that Jesus’ resurrection is the means of our justification. He paid for our sins in his atoning death, but he sets us right with God in his triumphant new life. We know that his reign as the rightful heir of all things was inaugurated in his resurrection, not in his death.</p>
<p>In short, essential as was his death for our salvation, the resurrection of Christ is no less important in our being restored to life with God.</p>
Luke's Hinge2014-03-17T08:00:00-04:002014-03-17T08:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-17:/2014/lukes-hinge.htmlLuke's narrative—and his depiction of Jesus—changes direction in surprising ways in the middle of Luke 9: there he starts the long walk to Calvary.
<p>Luke structures his narrative in an interesting way. From his introduction and the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, he moves along through a fairly short section of material before he describes Jesus’ turn toward Jerusalem. Starting as early as chapter 9—less than halfway through the book—Jesus begins predicting his death and discussing his plans to go to Jerusalem. In the sequences that follow, Jesus experiences the transfiguration, begins outright attacking the Pharisees and lawyers, and grows increasingly impatient with the crowds.</p>
<p>Even as many times as I have read these chapters, the force of them hit me anew today. Jesus remains the compassionate shepherd of the sheep, but with a startling suddenness he manifests his impatience with the people whom Paul would later describe by noting that “not all Israel is Israel” (see Romans 9:6ff.). The crowds who gathered around were not all true followers; the Pharisees and lawyers who knew best the word that spoke of him were those who most failed to understand him.</p>
<p>I have long found Jesus’ post-Transfiguration response to the man seeking healing for his son puzzling. Ordinarily, Jesus had been quick to compassion toward people like this. Only a chapter earlier, he had been praising the faith of a woman who had touched him and been healed, and responding to the earnest pleas of a family for the healing of their daughter. But here, he complains:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>O faithless and twisted generation, how long am I to be with you and bear with you?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is <em>not</em> what we expect.</p>
<p>In Luke’s narrative, there is a hinge in 9:21–36. Here, Jesus first predicts his death, then tells his disciples that they must take up their cross daily and follow him, and then experiences the Transfiguration. Afterward, this new impatience, which comes bubbling out not only in this encounter but in woes against unrepentant cities and against the teachers and lawyers. It is not that his compassion ceases, but that his frustration shows up alongside it.</p>
<p>The turn here highlighted several things for me. First, Jesus saw what I too easily miss, even in having read these passages so often. When he complains about bearing with a twisted and faithless generation, it is because that generation <em>was</em> twisted and faithless, even if to my eyes the difference is not immediately obvious. But the contrast <em>should</em> be clear, and it becomes clearer given this broader setting for the various confrontations. Luke sets up this encounter with a man seeking healing for his demoniac son against the backdrop of a gathered crowd, and only a few verses after Jesus has said, “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” He knew full well that the hearts of the crowd were not turned to him as the Messiah whom they should worship. They were people who wanted miracles and nothing more. The moment they were given the right opportunity, these same people could and would turn on him—as they did. So when we see Jesus acting in ways that surprise us, it points us back to the ways that his divinity and humanity mingled. He knew their hearts, as he knew what they would be doing to him soon enough.</p>
<p>This also highlights the reality of how Jesus partakes in the same attitude toward faithless generations that we see in the Godhead throughout the Old Testament. So often, we separate the two Testaments functionally, even if we consciously affirm their unity. But the same compassion we see in Christ is present in every interaction of God with his people and with the nations throughout the Old Testament. The same bubbling impatience that turns eventually to woe and judgment in the Old Testament is on display here in Christ. He is the loving savior who was marking the path toward Calvary, and he is the righteous judge who pronounced woe on those who rejected him.</p>
<p>It would be easy to make the same mistake that the crowds did in those days: to celebrate Jesus for what he does for us, without worshipping him as the Son of God or kneeling to him as the Anointed King. Indeed, so often this is <em>exactly</em> what we do. We want to take the blessings of salvation, the help of the indwelling Holy Spirit, while continuing to go our own ways. We want to use God. Instead, we ought to humbly worship the one who calls us to leave behind everything to follow him and proclaim the kingdom (see Luke 9:57–62). We ought to rejoice that our names are written in the book of life, come what trials may, and worship the Christ of God who is risen and seated at the right hand of God.</p>
The Atonement, Leon Morris2014-03-16T19:50:00-04:002014-03-16T19:50:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-16:/2014/the-atonement-leon-morris.htmlMorris' book could have been a helpful volume; a robust doctrine of the atonement is a wonderful thing. I am sad to say that _The Atonement_ simply wasn't very good.
<p><i class="editorial">I wrote the following review after reading the book when it was assigned for my Christian Theology II class, covering Christology and soteriology, at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Most of my readings for that class were <em>great</em>. This one? Well, you’ll see.</i></p>
<hr />
<p>Leon Morris’ <em>The Atonement</em> is, as near as I can tell, fairly well regarded. Given the importance of the doctrine of the atonement to our faith, I had hoped that the book would be a profitable read when I saw that it was assigned as reading for one of my classes this semester. Unfortunately, the book fell far short of my hopes.</p>
<p>The problems with the book are manifold. To begin, Morris is simply not a very good writer. Run-on sentences crop up regularly. He seems to be aiming for both a friendly conversational tone and erudition. (Conversational and scholarly writing are both fine; the combination fails miserably for nearly anyone but G.K. Chesterton or C.S. Lewis. Take it from me: I should know.) Most importantly, Morris’ chapters are essentially thesis-less, and the “conclusions” to which he comes rarely follow from the material presented in the rest of the chapter. The section on redemption was particularly egregious in this regard: he turned from a long discussion of redemption practices in the ancient world to a short summary focusing on the Christian view of sin in contrast to the modern world’s view of the human situation—with no transition or connection between the two.</p>
<p>This is one of the two basic problems with the book, in fact. His chapters are essentially aiming to do two different things. On the one hand, Morris is clearly interested in laying out the historical and linguistic background of the various ideas associated with the atonement (the sacrificial system, Passover, redemption, etc.). On the other hand, he clearly wants to find points of application to the Christian life. In each chapter, he spends most of his time on the first, then makes a rushed switch to the second for the final pages of the chapter. At no point is this transition well-written, and in no chapter does the application follow closely from the points he made in the background material. Even within the background material which dominates each chapter, Morris wanders. It is as if he is not sure whether he wanted to provide an informative overview of the context, to argue against various views others have offered regarding that background,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> or to make some sort of theological argument. Thus, he bounces between each of these modes rather haphazardly, sometimes even within a single paragraph.</p>
<p>This emphasis on background also rather defeats the purpose of the book. If the aim is to help people see and savor the glory of Christ’s atoning work on their behalf—a noble and worthy goal—then Morris simply did the wrong thing. He spends most of his time in the book on word studies, historical context, and so on. When he does get to his “application” sections,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> he usually has said very little about Scripture’s teaching on the atonement. Telling people what words mean, or explaining the rabbis’ records of Second Temple Judaism practice, is not the same as explaining the Scriptures. The book reads like a sermon series from the historical-grammatical school where the background has been mistaken for the content instead of as a helpful tool where the content is not clear.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> Morris wastes his readers’ time with secondary matters and speeds over the riches of the text itself.</p>
<p>When Morris <em>does</em> pay attention to the actual content of Scripture rather than its background, he tends to dwell on his hobby-horses instead of letting Scripture speak for itself. He often writes things like, “Of course, Scripture <em>does</em> include (one idea), but really we should take it (in some other way).”— where the latter is his preferred reading, and the former the way the text actually reads. Unsurprisingly, then, the best chapters in the book are those where his hobby-horses are nearest the actual point of the text in question. In the final three chapters of the book, he veers away into secondary matters much less and focuses on the text much more. It made for a significant improvement.</p>
<p>Alas, even this improvement did nothing to help resolve the other significant problem with the book. In short, Morris’ approach to New Testament doctrine is hopelessly reductionistic. Everything comes down to the idea of payment for the guilt of sin, even in chapters where he tries to talk about other things. Morris set out to write a book on the atonement, and instead of spending his time tracing out the atonement itself, he tried to make every other aspect of our salvation a part of the atonement. The book might have worked had it been titled <em>Salvation</em>, but in seeking to make every part of God’s saving work into a mere aspect of atonement, Morris both diminished those other parts and failed to spend much time discussing the atonement itself.</p>
<p>In this Morris is very much typical of evangelicalism, sad to say. We are a crucicentric people, and though this has its upsides, it also means we tend to rewrite all of our doctrines in terms of penal subtitutionary atonement, rather than letting them all work together as they do in the Bible. Atonement is one central and crucial (pun intended) part of our salvation, but it is not the whole of our salvation.</p>
<p>Morris’ book could have been a helpful volume; a robust doctrine of the atonement is a wonderful thing. I am sad to say that <em>The Atonement</em> simply wasn’t very good. There are helpful bits scattered throughout, but to find them one must wade through a great deal of poorly written, unnecessarily polemical, disorganized, distracted meandering about things that are <em>not</em> the atonement (though they are themselves wonderful). I cannot recommend it.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Including, unfortunately, the occasional joke about the Church Fathers’ views on aspects of the atonement are. At one point, he goes so far as to describe the Fathers’ “ransom view” of the atonement as silly and only worth laughing at. We might <em>disagree</em> with the Fathers’ ransom view of the atonement, with God paying Satan—I do—but we hardly ought to laugh at them. This is chronological snobbery of the worst sort.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Usually focusing on the shape of the Christian life—an odd choice in a book one would think would focus on the gospel itself. To be sure, I think that the atonement has enormous implications for the Christian life. Morris never shows <em>how</em> they connect, though, and he doesn’t spend any time talking about the marvel of the atonement itself for the Christian, either. It is just strange.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>This is the way that the historical-grammatical approach normally goes wrong. Other approaches have their own typical foibles, of course.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Combatting Generational Poverty Through Early Childhood Intervention2014-03-16T17:00:00-04:002014-03-16T17:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-16:/2014/combatting-generational-poverty-through-early-childhood-intervention.htmlLink: It seems inevitable that our country will try to combat generational poverty and all its great harms by investing heavily in early childhood intervention. The question for the church is, will we allow the state to take the initiative, or will we take up this task and engender the kind of deep, redemptive healing that the state can only dream of?<p>Great piece here from Alan Noble, who is increasingly showing himself to be one of the sharpest guys around.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It seems inevitable that our country will try to combat generational poverty and all its great harms by investing heavily in early childhood intervention. We already see signs of the State moving towards such programs with President Obama’s 2013 State of the Union address and Mayor de Blasio’s expanded pre-K. Tragically and despite enormous costs, de Blasio’s pre-K initiative in New York will most likely have very modest results, particularly since it begins intervention at age four, so late in the child’s mental development. The question for the church is, will we allow the state to take the initiative, or will we take up this task and engender the kind of deep, redemptive healing that the state can only dream of?</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You should (1) <a href="http://www.canonandculture.com/combatting-generational-poverty-through-early-childhood-intervention/">read the rest of this piece</a> and (2) read lots more by him and other sharp guys at his homebase <a href="http://christandpopculture.com">Christ and Pop Culture</a>.</p>
The Servant of God2014-03-11T15:45:00-04:002014-03-11T15:45:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-11:/2014/the-servant-of-god.html<p>The Servant pictured in Isaiah is one of the most famous images in the Old Testament for Christians. The language applied to him in Isaiah 53 in particular has long been understood by Christians to point directly to Jesus as the atoning savior. The role of the Servant in the …</p><p>The Servant pictured in Isaiah is one of the most famous images in the Old Testament for Christians. The language applied to him in Isaiah 53 in particular has long been understood by Christians to point directly to Jesus as the atoning savior. The role of the Servant in the book is somewhat more complex than a simple prediction of Jesus as subtitutionary atonement however: it encompasses that idea, but does much more as well.</p>
<p>The label of Servant is applied to two (or possibly three) different roles in Isaiah: the nation of Israel, and one who suffers and works on behalf of Israel. This latter role certainly contains messianic overtures, but may also include poetic references to Isaiah’s own suffering on behalf Israel.</p>
<p>The theme of the Servant first appears in chapter 40, and is immediately and directly applied in reference to Israel/Jacob. The same is true of its appearance in chapters 41 and 43, though the language used of the servant in chapter 42 suggests an individual and not the nation, and should perhaps be taken as pointing to a king who represents the nation given the national context. Beginning in chapter 45 and moving forward, the Servant increasingly appears as the individual who acts for Israel on Yahweh’s behalf.</p>
<p>Whether the Servant-Israel or the Servant-for-Israel (as we might label them), the Servant exists to be God’s agent in bringing about the obedience of the nations. The Servant-Israel experiences cleansing and purification to that end, while the Servant-for-Israel experiences suffering in place of Israel, for her sins and to save her from her unrighteous ways.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> In both cases, the suffering is part of God’s plan to lead the nations out of their idolatry to participate in his covenant with Israel. The shape of the role taken by the Servant differs, though, and as the book progresses the need for the Servant-for-Israel becomes more and more clear, because the Servant-Israel is simply not up to the task (as was made clear by the first 39 chapters of the book!).</p>
<p>Thus, the Servant-for-Israel acts on behalf of Israel in the latter parts of chapters 40–55. He picks up kingly responsibilities of doing justice and righteousness in the earth (a theme Isaiah seems to take up from the Psalms and elaborate). He stands as Israel’s representative in dealing with her sin. He brings the nations in to participate in Israel’s covenant life with God. In some sense, the messianic king figure becomes True Israel on Israel’s behalf.</p>
<p>The transition between Servant-Israel and Servant-for-Israel not only picks up messianic overtones, but also hints at autobiographical elements for Isaiah himself. Lest Christian readers be skittish at this notion, wanting to preserve the text’s unique way of pointing to Jesus: it is hardly uncommon for figures in the Old Testament to prefigure the messiah in various ways. Here it is Jesus’ role as Prophet we see prefigured, just asthe entire Levitical system prefigured him as Priest and David prefigured him as King. Isaiah’s suffering on behalf of Israel is a clear parallel to Jesus’ ministry, and Jesus himself makes this clear in his teaching in the New Testament, where he emphasizes that he came in part to close eyes and ears as well as open them.</p>
<p>The result of the progression is that the reader moves from seeing Israel as God’s servant to recognizing the need for a servant who will work as God’s agent on Israel’s behalf, to seeing that even Isaiah was an incomplete picture of this servant. The one of whom Isaiah prophesied would be not only Prophet but also king and both priest and sacrifice on behalf of the people. He would not only speak of the nations coming to participate in fellowship with God in the Zion of Israel, he would bring it about himself.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Notably, the redemption pictured in Isaiah goes beyond subtitution for sins, and includes restoration to a holy nature—a theme that is picked up clearly in the New Testament but too often overlooked by modern readers.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Wisdom and Folly2014-03-11T15:00:00-04:002014-03-11T15:00:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-11:/2014/wisdom-and-folly.html<p>The book of Proverbs opens with a lengthy introduction to the topic of wisdom, expounding its virtues and necessity and contrasting them with the costs of folly, before moving into the proverbs for which it is named. After a short introductory statement, the book moves into a series of extended …</p><p>The book of Proverbs opens with a lengthy introduction to the topic of wisdom, expounding its virtues and necessity and contrasting them with the costs of folly, before moving into the proverbs for which it is named. After a short introductory statement, the book moves into a series of extended metaphors for wisdom and folly to illustrate the point. These metaphors are those of the two women, the two houses, and the two ways—with the choices between the two illustrated in each case by the simple youth who may choose one or the other and become either wise or a fool.</p>
<p>The two women of the book are the Ladies Wisdom and Folly. Throughout the first nine chapters, the two stand in opposition to each other everywhere. Wisdom calls out on the streets, by the gates, and in the highest point of the city. She represents the first aspect of God’s order in the world, that foundational principle on which the world is built. She is an attribute of the creation God made and a reflection of his desires and character. By contrast, the adulteress (or “foreign woman”) who leads astray a simple youth and destroys him in chapter 7 is a picture not only of the particular follies of adultery but a personification of all that is foolish: wherever wisdom stands and calls out, so too does the adulteress—Lady Folly in one of her most deceptive forms. She is an image of what it means to go against the grain of God’s created order, and the consequence of going with her is death. No surprise, that: going against the structure of God’s reality has <em>always</em> led to death, beginning in Genesis 3.</p>
<p>The two ways and two houses pick up this same motif and trace it out further. One way leads to life, the other to death. One house is steadfast and sure, while the other crumbles. One belongs to Wisdom, the other to Folly. These images Jesus picks up again in his own teaaching in the New Testament: The way that leads to life is narrow, and few find it, but the way that leads to destruction is wide and many walk it. The wise man builds his house on the rock that is Jesus’ word, but the foolish man builds his house on the sand that is worldly wisdom. The naïve youth may answer Lady Wisdom’s invitation and follow her along the way of wisdom to the house of wisdom and so become wise, or he may answer Lady Folly’s call, walk down folly’s road to the house of destruction and so become a fool.</p>
<p>The idea of the “wise person” and the “fool” then come up time and again throughout the rest of the book. Whatever one decides has the enormous consequences that the book traces out: fools become insolent, ignorant, murderous rebels against God, while wise people become gracious, temperate, gentle followers of God.</p>
Job—The Mourner2014-03-11T14:30:00-04:002014-03-11T14:30:00-04:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-11:/2014/job-the-mourner.html<p>The book of Job has most commonly been read as theodicy, i.e. as a defense of God’s goodness in the face of human suffering and the existence of evil in the world. This reading has a number of difficulties, not least in that though the characters in the …</p><p>The book of Job has most commonly been read as theodicy, i.e. as a defense of God’s goodness in the face of human suffering and the existence of evil in the world. This reading has a number of difficulties, not least in that though the characters in the book raise this question, neither God in his appearance nor the narrator offer an answer to it. Indeed, the final shape of the book is such that the reader has some understanding of why <em>Job</em> suffered as he did—but only some. God’s reasons for acting in the particular ways he did remain hidden, and (more importantly) the answers we see in Job’s specific case are clearly not applicable to every case of human suffering.</p>
<p>One possible way out of this problem is to approach the text from a different angle. Supposing that Job was not written as a theodicy, but as an exploration of an entirely different need, how might we read the book more profitably? One suggestion is that the central issue in the text is how Job might move from a position of ritual mourning back into a position of ritual life—and this approach does indeed yield significant exegetical fruit.</p>
<p>All of Job’s troubles experienced in the first two chapters of the book warranted his entering a state of ritual mourning: he experienced calamity in the loss of his possessions, the death of his sons and daughters, and the onset of a skin disease. The Levitical law proscribed the kinds of mourning an Israelite would undergo under each of these circumstances, and none were trivial. Though Job as a non-Israelite would not have lived under the Levitical law, he <em>did</em> live in a culture that embraced that pattern of ritual mourning in response to these problems, and the Israelite audience would have recognized his behavior as such. Thus, in Job 1–2, we see Job respond to his great calamity by tearing his clothes, going out of the town and sitting on the trash heap, and scraping his skin with a shard of pottery. These were not merely expressions of his grief (though, to be sure, he was grieved) but symbolic statements that he had entered a state of ritual death in a period of mourning.</p>
<p>Job now needed a way to move back to ritual life, the ordinary state of affairs. Culturally, “comforters” were the means afforded him for this end, and this explains the efforts of Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and (eventually) Elihu. Each in his way sought to help Job come to terms with his loss, become right with God, and return to ordinary life. Since the three each embraced both the so-called “retribution principle” and its corollary—that God rewards the righteous and punishes the wicked, and that accordingly prosperity and suffering are indicators of righteousness and wickedness respectively—they all tried to convince Job that he ought to repent of his apparent sin.</p>
<p>Notably, however, none could persuade Job of any sin warranting such suffering as he endured, and moreover the book agrees with Job: the narrative prologue first chapters tells us that Job was “blameless and upright” and that “in all this [his initial response to loss] he did not sin.” Job’s bitter response midway through the book (“Miserable comforters are you all!”) makes perfect sense in this context: they were not relieving him of his state of ritual death, for their words offered no way forward. Thus, Job increasingly turns away from answering his friends to pleading with God to appear and answer him, though as Job acknowledges, no one can contend with God. Still: even against the largely accurate answers Elihu provides in chapters 32–36, Job was unmoved. He needed something else.</p>
<p>When God appears, he does not answer Job’s questions, but neither does he accuse him of sin. Rather, he shows Job his wisdom, and how greatly his wisdom exceeds Job’s understanding. This, it seems, <em>is</em> what Job needed in order to move from mourning back to life. He is able to say, “Before, I had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you,” and <em>this</em> is what triggers his return to normal life at the end of the book. Moreover, his statement of repentance in Job 42 makes a great deal more sense this way: he now turned away (“repented” in the bare sense) <em>from</em> dust and ashes—not repenting of some unnamed sin <em>in</em> dust and ashes. Indeed, this (the common reading) would hardly make sense, given that Job immediately puts off his dust and ashes and returns to his life. Job was able to move from ritual death to ritual life because he had encountered God. As a result, Job did return to all the ordinary parts of life. Whereas the mourner was forbidden from feasting, worshipping, and sexual activity, Job participates in all three in the conclusion of the book. His friends and family come and eat with him. He offers sacrifice for his friends. He fathers more children.</p>
<p>Thus, taking Job in light of ancient near eastern mourning ritual helps us understand the book’s message and structure far more clearly than taking it as a theodicy. The text does not seek to answer why God allows evil. Indeed, it inverts the question: who are we to think we could understand? In Job we have instead a recognition that the only thing that will really satisfy the soul of one experiencing the deep suffering that life brings is an encounter with the living God. The only thing that could move Job from ritual death to ritual life is the only thing that can move us from spiritual death to spiritual life—not mere academic knowledge of facts about God, but encountering him as one who may be known.</p>
North Korea Set to Execute 33 Christians2014-03-08T22:20:00-05:002014-03-08T22:20:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-08:/2014/north-korea-set-to-execute-33-christians.htmlLink: North Korea tyrant Kim Jong-un has reportedly ordered that 33 Christians believed to be working alongside South Korean Baptist missionary Kim Jung-wook be put to death.<p>The Washington Times reports:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>North Korea tyrant Kim Jong-un has reportedly ordered that 33 Christians believed to be working alongside South Korean Baptist missionary Kim Jung-wook be put to death.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>N.b. the source is Breitbart, which I usually take with a very large grain of salt—but this is not exactly surprising for Kim Jong-un or North Korea, so it is deserving of further investigation and prayer in any case.</p>
Redeemed For (As Well As From)2014-03-08T22:15:00-05:002014-03-08T22:15:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-08:/2014/redeemed-for-as-well-as-from.htmlPaul's letter to Titus is more than just a list of things for the church to do. It helps us situate ourselves in church history and understand our responsibilities in this age—it helps us understand our salvation more clearly.<p>One of the great joys of the Scripture reading I have been doing so far this year is that it covers a lot of ground. Besides reading all of the historical books last semester for my Old Testament I survey class and all of the wisdom literature and prophets this semester for my Old Testament II survey class, I am also reading through the Psalms and the Proverbs regularly (I expect to cover the Psalms twice and the Proverbs at least ten times this year), and going over various parts of the New Testament as well. Among other things, this really helps me see the bigger picture and integrate my readings more effectively.</p>
<p>Indeed, I am increasingly convinced that many evangelicals need not more of the detailed word studies of which we are so fond,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> but a broader understanding of the ways that the various books and parts of books fit into their canonical and salvation-historical contexts. We need to understand the epistle to Titus, for example, not just as a series of instructions for polity disconnected from salvation history (apart from the parts where Paul refers to salvation history) but as an integral part of that history. The same is true of books we often find difficult to integrate into such a reading, especially the wisdom literature but even including the Psalms.</p>
<p>How <em>does</em> Paul’s letter to Titus fit into the rest of the canon, and into salvation history? We have of course one of Paul’s typically succinct and incisive summaries of the gospel:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>But when the goodness and loving kindness of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of works done by us in righteousness, but according to his own mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that being justified by his grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. (Titus 3:4-7, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Even beyond this explicit pointer to salvation history, though, we must recognize that the book sits in the canon as it does for a reason. We are meant to learn from the needs of the early church, and to remember that the work of God did not stop with the ascension of Christ, nor even with the apostles. We are meant to come away both understanding how we ought to do things ourselves in our own churches better and understanding what God is about in the church more clearly. Paul gets at this quite explicitly, albeit briefly, along the way:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works. (Titus 2:11-14, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The church exists not only as a lifeboat for those drowning in their sins (though of course it is that), but as a distinctive, united group of people called together to live in a specific way. We are called to live in a particular way, to be a peculiar people: self-controlled, upright, and godly. Jesus gave himself for us<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> not only to pay for our sins, but to make something new of us. He redeemed us from lawlessness; no more should we walk in our own ways. He purified us for himself as a people—not merely a disparate group of persons, but as a united people who are characterized above all by belonging to him. Moreover, as a people we are to be <em>zealous</em> for good works. As I wrote <a href="/2014/work-hard.html">yesterday</a>, this is a view we could use a great deal more of.</p>
<p>We need to see clearly our own place in salvation history. We are not people saved in the abstract, or saved as lone-standing individuals, or so that we may have license to do whatever we like. We have been saved with an end in mind: that we might do good and so make much of Christ in the world around us. The result, as Paul points out elsewhere in the book, will be that people will have no cause to revile us and may be led to repentance. In short, we are part of God’s work in history, and our Spirit-empowered pursuit of corporate and personal holiness and good works in the world we inhabit is an important, meaningful part of that work in history.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I might also point out that, from a linguistics perspective, the idea of “word studies” is fundamentally broken. Think about all the ways that the word “conceive” is used, for example—it would be a fallacy to think that every time we use the word in its cognitive sense, we mean to include all the connotations of a child coming into a being. We inevitably indulge in many such fallacies in our usual approach to word studies, and the amount of technical language skill needed to avoid such things is high. I usually recommend that people simply not do word studies at all for this reason alone—but there are other good reasons, too, not least that such studies tend to distract us from the point being made in a particular place as we try to see what the words mean in all the <em>other</em> places. That, too, misunderstands how language works.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>I find it telling that Paul says Jesus <em>gave</em> himself for us rather than only that he <em>died</em> for us. We know from Philippians that the Son gave to us in the act of the Incarnation as well as in his death.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Work Hard!2014-03-07T22:55:00-05:002014-03-07T22:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-07:/2014/work-hard.htmlPaul's list of exhortations in Romans 12 could lead us to despair—or it could lead us to worshipful obedience.<p>Paul doesn’t pull punches, and he is not interested in making things easy on Christians. As soon as he has finished his theological foundation in Romans— the most lengthy of any such argument he makes in any of his letters—he moves immediately into some remarkably profound exhortations. They are worth quoting at length and pondering at length:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.</p>
<p>Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. (Romans 12:9–21)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This list of exhortations is stunning in its breadth and depth. It is impossibly difficult. We could easily become discouraged, and recognizing our own hypocrisy despair and give up,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> but this was clearly not Paul’s intent. Rather, he was setting before his audience—and thus, before us—a picture of the true Christian life and calling us to pursue it. He was no fool; he had spent much of the book discussing the very challenges that face every would-be follower of God and knew well the weakness of our own flesh. Moreover, immediately after this list, he turned from these instructions to deal with the kinds of weaknesses that have come up in every congregation from his day to ours.</p>
<p>Paul knew we would fail at this list, yet he gave it to us anyway. The authors of the New Testament do not shy away from this move. Jesus told us flatly that we must be perfect as our heavenly father is perfect, and the apostles picked up this theme and ran with it. Why in the world would they do this, knowing we would never meet such a standard (most of all our Lord, who alone has lived righteously)? Is this merely more Law designed to point us back to the Gospel and show us that even as believers, we can do nothing, or are these real instructions—and if the latter, how are we to respond without being crushed by our inability?</p>
<p>I think it <em>is</em> the latter: a geniuine call to a righteous life. The idea that these kinds of instructions exist <em>only</em> to point us back to the gospel does not do justice to the text, and in fact leads us fairly quickly to a quiet antinominianism. Where we think that we are unable to fulfill God’s law and that even aiming to do so is somehow wrong, we quickly stop pursuing real holiness. This cannot be right.</p>
<p>Still, the problem remains: even for the faithful Christian who <em>wants</em> to fulfill these commands, we recognize our failure. Here, the gospel <em>is</em> the answer—just not in the way so many antinomian-tending believers take it. The gospel reminds us first of what Christ Jesus has done on our behalf and removes the weight of thinking that we must meet these standards to stand before a righteous God. We never could. We can stand before him only because we are clothed with the righteousness of the Incarnate Son of God who clothed himself in all our sins and bore every drop of the Godhead’s wrath on our sin already. Second, the gospel reminds us that we are <em>presently</em> united with Christ by the indwelling of his Spirit. The Spirit that raised Christ from the dead—the third person of the Trinity who empowered Jesus to perform his earthly ministry without sinning—lives in us. It is God who works in us both to will and work for his good pleasure. Third, we remember that we have an advocate before the throne of the Father who is always interceding for us, and that the Spirit prays for us when we do not know how to pray for ourselves.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> We have not been left alone.</p>
<p>So we look at the gospel over and over again, and in so doing are empowered to press on when we do not love perfectly, when we are wise in our sight, when we fail to do what we ought and when we do what we ought not to do. We remember what Christ has done, how he stands now before the Father on our behalf, and how we will stand righteous in him come the final day.<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> We remember how the Spirit indwells us and empowers us just as he did Christ. We remember that we <em>have</em> been raised with Christ even as we <em>will</em> be raised with Christ. And we can press on. We can work hard, knowing God is at work in us.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I was talking with an acquaintance recently who took precisely this course. It broke my heart. We need not despair.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Do not miss this! All Christians have two members of the Trinity always speaking to the third on our behalf, and the third is delighting to respond!<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>A small point of wonder: the final day will also be the <em>first</em> day in many ways. It will be the end of this age, and the beginning of an age without sorrow or tears or calamity. Hallelujah.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Salvation is Beautiful2014-03-05T23:00:00-05:002014-03-05T23:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-05:/2014/salvation-is-beautiful.htmlPaul's treatment of justification in Romans is astounding and beautiful and marvelous—for here he proclaims the risen lord Jesus Christ. Hallelujah!<p>Romans is just flat <em>packed</em> with theological profundities. Word for word, I am hard pressed to think of any other document with such depths. Not for nothing has it often been called the greatest letter ever written. Paul’s incredible intellect is on full display throughout the letter, dedicated entirely to one end: that his readers would see and delight in the work of God in Jesus, the Jewish Messiah through whom salvation came to all nations.</p>
<p>I read Romans 4–6 tonight, and I hardly know where to begin in responding to all the truths layered throughout these chapters. Paul spends most of these first chapters dwelling on the doctrine of justification. <em>How,</em> he asks, <em>can unrighteous people stand before a holy God? And how can a holy God let them?</em> These are not new questions for the Scriptures—they are, in some sense, some of the <em>oldest</em>. From the moment that Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and in so doing sundered themselves from their maker, God has been showing mercy and restraint toward we people who are ever in rebellion against him. He made a way for often-failing Israel to nonetheless be in a covenant relationship with him throughout the Old Testament years, and he laid out the pattern: blood for blood, life for life, every sin requiring payment. Yet the blood of bulls and goats was not exactly a perfect substitute for a human being. God passed over sins because he was merciful and kind and longsuffering—but he is also just, and justice must be done.</p>
<p>It is with all this as a(n often-referenced) backdrop that Paul lays out his doctrine of justification. Having shown in chapter 3 that Jesus is the answer to the problem of sinful people standing before a righteous God, Paul arcs out and back again over and over again through these chapters to the glorious reality that in Christ, we stand perfectly justified before God. God counts us righteous because Christ was righteous on our behalf, died on our behalf, and was raised on our behalf.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>Paul goes out to Abraham’s justification by faith in God, hammering away at any notion that Abraham was justified by his circumcision or any other good deed and pointing instead to his trust in God, born out by obedience. Then he arcs back in to look at Jesus’ death and resurrection and our response of faith. Then he zooms back out again to the history of salvation in Adam’s trespass and back in to Christ’s work to redeem humanity in every way that it was cursed in Adam. In chapter 6, he applies these truths at a doctrinal level: justification is not license to sin, but grounds for and the basis of empowerment to obey. Paul returns to this theme at length in the end of the book, but he wants it made clear here: the death and resurrection of Christ do not give us cause to embrace antinomianism, but instead lead us to the obedience of faith, just as it did in Abraham.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a></p>
<p>All of this discussion of what Paul says—good though it is—can mask the beauty and the magnificence of his proclamations, though. As John Piper has commented: the God revealed in these pages is worthy of more than mere intellectual analysis. He must be proclaimed, and Paul is proclaiming him—</p>
<p>Romans 4:24–25:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It will be counted to us who believe in him who raised from the dead Jesus our Lord, who was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Romans 5:6–11:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Romans 6:5–11:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him in order that the body of sin might be brought to nothing, so that we would no longer be enslaved to sin. For one who has died has been set free from sin. Now if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. For the death he died he died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Christ is risen from the dead! He has trampled down sin and death. He has made atonement for us. He has been born and lived and died a man, tempted like us in every respect yet without sin, but dying he did not stay dead! He has been declared the Son of God with power (Romans 1:4) and raised from the dead to show the surety of our faith and our hope. Hallelujah!</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Romans 4:25 is one of those verses that surprises we crucicentric evangelicals: it says that Jesus was delivered up (i.e. to the cross) for our trespasses and <em>raised</em> for our justification. We have no justification before God apart from Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. Indeed, the resurrection of Christ is woven through Romans as one of the central themes, too often overlooked by evangelicals, from the very introduction of the book (cf. Romans 1:4).<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>This theme of obedience also runs throughout the book. Again, evangelicals can be quick to point to the idea that we are saved by faith, apart from any work of the law, and given the rest of the book of Romans, this is a truth we heartily embrace, and in which we should rejoice. But the faith in view, as James reminds us in his epistle, is not a sort of abstract, intellectual affirmation or an emotional rush of good feeling toward God. It is belief that produces obedience; if it does not produce obedience, <em>it is not real faith and we remain unjustified</em>.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
What He Did Not Assume2014-03-05T15:30:00-05:002014-03-05T15:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-05:/2014/what-he-did-not-assume.htmlNearly every major heresy the church confronts (and no few of its littler skirmishes) revolve around issues of the nature of the Incarnate Son of God.<p>There have been many broken and flawed Christologies over the years, and in truth many of them continue to crop up in mainstream evangelicalism. Nearly every major heresy the church confronts (and no few of its littler skirmishes) revolve around issues of the nature of the Incarnate Son of God. From the earliest days of the church, there has been a tension between those emphasizing Jesus’ humanity at the cost of his deity and those emphasizing his deity at the cost of his humanity. The clear testimony of Scripture, however, is that Jesus was everything that it is to be God and also everything that it is to be human.</p>
<p>When we say, then, that in the Incarnation the Son of God ‘took his flesh from Mary’, we are emphasizing that he inherited from her all that it means to be a human being. Nothing was missing or absent. The Word who was from the beginning, and through whom the Father created the world, and indeed for whom the world exists, took upon himself human body and soul/mind/spirit.</p>
<p>He participated fully in all the weaknesses of human existence. He became subject to common colds and the need to expel waste from his body. He experienced teething pains, and he needed to eat and sleep. He experienced real temptation to sin, more fully than has any other human because he resisted it to the last. He bore the sorrows of life in a world filled with suffering and war and death. He was in everything the word means <em>human</em>. As the author of Hebrews puts it:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (Hebrews 2:14–18)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>We share in flesh and blood; he shared in flesh and blood. He became like us in every respect—not partially, not in some respects, but in every respect. He suffered when he was tempted; the lures and draws of the world did not simply pass by him without any challenge whatsoever. He took from Mary <em>everything</em> about humanity.</p>
<p>This matters because, as the Fathers pointed out, what he has not assumed has not been redeemed. Redemption is more than (though of course not less than) propitiation for sins. It is the re-uniting of humanity with God, so that all the myriad ways in which human nature has been broken may be set once again how it ought to be. It is the restoration of <em>all</em> the things that were broken in humanity by the Fall. There is no part of humanity that was not broken by the Fall, no part that does not need restoration, no part that was not cut off from fellowship with God. Thus, there is no part of humanity that is not in need of redemption, and so anything the Son did not take up of our humanity when he became Jesus the Christ is still broken.</p>
<p>If Jesus had only the mind of God and not a human mind, then our minds are still unredeemed. If Jesus’ body was not the Son’s body but a drone-like extension of his will, then our minds remain unredeemed. If Jesus’ will was not a human will but purely and only a divine will, then our wills remain unredeemed. In each case, if Jesus was not both God and man in his nature, we are lost. In this sense, then, few things are of more theological import than the nature of the incarnation. The cross and resurrection, powerful though they are, do not have their intended effect of redeeming lost women and men unless the Incarnation was the complete joining of God and man in Jesus. And so: praise be to God! For when Jesus took his flesh from Mary, he took up humanity whole and entire, leaving nothing out, and joined it with his deity whole and entire, leaving nothing out. So now we through him participated in the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4), just as he participated in human nature.</p>
Adam's Sin and Our Death2014-03-05T15:00:00-05:002014-03-05T15:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-05:/2014/adams-sin-and-our-death.htmlHow exactly human beings' guilt relates to Adam's guilt is a question of no small theological import, and it has unsurprisingly been the topic of much theological discussion---not to say debate---over the past many hundreds of years.<p>How exactly human beings’ guilt relates to Adam’s guilt is a question of no small theological import, and it has unsurprisingly been the topic of much theological discussion—not to say debate—over the past many hundreds of years. The central passage is Romans 5:12–14:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned—for sin indeed was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not counted where there is no law. Yet death reigned from Adam to Moses, even over those whose sinning was not like the transgression of Adam, who was a type of the one who was to come.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The basic historic, orthodox<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> views of this position may be summarized as follows:</p>
<ul>
<li>All humans are guilty of Adam’s sin because they were in his loins when he sinned, and so have not only been contaminated with his sinful nature but also actively sinned when he sinned, and so are guilty and under judgment of death from their very conception—a position most famously and forcefully articulated by Augustine.</li>
<li>All humans are born guilty of Adam’s sin because he acted as the federal head of the human race and so we are imputed guilty in him, just as when we partipate in the humanity of the new federal head of humanity—Jesus Christ—his righteousness is imputed to us. In this view, humans are born subject to the punishment of sin (including death) because all of us are <em>counted</em> guilty in Adam, just as we experience the blessings of holiness when in Christ because we are <em>counted</em> righteous in him (the historic Reformed view).</li>
<li>All humans are born innocent of Adam’s guilt, but by dint of descent from him have the same corrupted sinful nature he did, and therefore all <em>do</em> sin and incur guilt before a holy God. Furthermore, as Adam’s descendants, all are born separated from God and therefore mortal. In this view, humans are born innocent of guilt but inevitably sin because of their fallen humanity and die because of their separation from God. This is the view articulated by the Baptist Faith and Message 2000.</li>
</ul>
<p>The most basic logic of the passage seems to run most closely in line with this last articulation. Paul argues that “sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned”. While Augustine and the Reformers both took this latter phrase to mean “all sinned <em>in Adam</em>” it must be recognized that the idea that all sinned “in Adam” is foreign to the text. Indeed, the sentence that follows immediately on the heels of this first declaration suggest that it is individuals’ sins committed in their own lives, and not Adam’s sin, that is in view here. Otherwise, the distinction between the sins that some committed before the law came and the sins that others committed after the law came makes little sense. So likewise does the distinction between Adam’s sin and that of those who followed him, even those whose sin was not like his.</p>
<p>The most significant textual challenge to this understanding comes in Paul’s statement that “death spread to all men because all sinned”—a statement that is hard to reconcile with the notion of the lack of conscious sin in infants or the mentally handicapped. Certainly many humans die in infancy, and indeed many die <em>in utero</em> long before the cognitive ability to make any choice whatsoever has developed. Thus, there is at least some sense in which Paul’s argument entails the death of human beings who have not yet come under condemnation for their own sin because of Adam’s sin.</p>
<p>None of the views outlined above resolve this tension perfectly. The Augustinian view seems overly bound up in Augustine’s views on sexual intercourse as the means of the transmission of sin to human nature. The federal headship view places more emphasis on the idea of imputation than this passage seems to support, but deals forthrightly with the issue of death in the lives of those who have committed no sins. The idea that humans are born innocent of specific guilt but subject to a sin nature that leads inevitably to sin seems to do justice to the basic flow of Paul’s argument, but struggles with the application of death to those who have not sinned.</p>
<p>Integrating the latter two options seems the best solution. People die because Adam corrupted human nature, and all participate in his corrupted human nature—a nature separated from the fellowship with God essential to human immortality—unless united to a <em>different</em> human nature. People are guilty for their own sins, not for Adam’s, but they die because they share Adam’s basic nature, which came out of his guilt. In due time, they themselves sin they <em>earn</em> the death in which they already shared by dint of their broken humanity. Even this solution, it must be admitted, remains somewhat messier than we might like, but it is to be preferred as best dealing with all the evidence before us.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I leave aside non-orthodox positions such as the Pelagian view that people are born able to live perfectly righteous lives, with uncorrupted natures, which runs against the clear teaching of Scripture that all sin and moreover that all <em>inevitably</em> sin because of the fallenness of our humanity.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
The Name of Sin2014-03-05T14:30:00-05:002014-03-05T14:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-05:/2014/the-name-of-sin.htmlSin is described in various ways in the Old and New Testaments, and these various descriptions and names tell us much about how the authors of the Bible conceived of the power than enslaves us apart from Christ.<p>Sin is described in various ways in the Old and New Testaments, and these various descriptions and names tell us much about how the authors of the Bible conceived of the power than enslaves us apart from Christ.</p>
<p>The Old Testament has several terms its authors often use to describe the broad concept of sin:<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<ul>
<li><em>‘avah</em>, meaning “bent” or “crooked”</li>
<li><em>‘aval</em>, which includes the idea of a lack of integrity, so is often given as “iniquity”</li>
<li><em>‘avar</em>, meaning “to cross over” or “transgress”</li>
<li><em>ra‘</em>, meaning “the rule of evil”</li>
<li><em>ma‘al</em>, meaning “breach of trust”</li>
<li><em>pasha‘</em>, meaning “to revolt” or “refuse subjection to a rightful authority”</li>
</ul>
<p>From these we see that humanity’s brokenness before God in the Old Testament was often conceived of in terms of doing things the wrong way, or in rejection of the rightful authority, or a mix of the two. Rebellion against the creator and his created order are essential ingredients of the concept of sin for the Old Testament authors. To do evil is to be in rebellion against the right way God established for things to be done, to reject his <em>shalom</em> and replace it with destruction and disharmony.</p>
<p>The most common term for sin in the Old Testament, however, and the one usually translated into the English “sin” is <em>chatha</em>, meaning “to miss the mark”. Sinning was thus not necessarily always a matter of active, willful rejection of God. It was also simply failing, by dint of corrupted human nature, to do as God called humanity to do, in any and all spheres of life. Sin was thus a pervasive and corrupting influence on <em>all</em> of human existence, not only on those who were consciously rebelling against God.</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, the New Testament picks up on many of these same ideas. Though the specific terms used have different semantic ranges than those in the Old Testament, as a group they cover much of the same territory:</p>
<ul>
<li><em>parabasis</em>, “the transgression of a boundary”</li>
<li><em>parakoe</em>, “disobedience to a voice”</li>
<li><em>paraptoma</em>, “falling where one should have stood upright”</li>
<li><em>agnoema</em>, “failing to know what one should have known”</li>
<li><em>hettema</em>, “diminishing what should have been fully rendered”</li>
<li><em>anomia</em>, failing to observe a law</li>
<li><em>plemmeleia</em>, “a discord in the harmonies of God’s universe”</li>
</ul>
<p>To the Old Testament range, they add this final notion of discord in the created order—a concept that was present in the Old Testament, to be sure, in the notion of lost <em>shalom</em>, but which was not so directly expressed. Again, as in the Old Testament, these emphasize both failure to do and active rejection of what is right. And, as in the Old Testament, the New Testament authors’ concept of sin is most commonly expressed in a single word meaning “missing the mark”: <em>hamartia</em>.</p>
<p>This congruence between the Old and New Testament views of sin emphasizes the fundamental unity between the various authors’ understanding of the issues at stake. Sin is everything about humanity’s failure to follow God’s ways and live in accord with his design for the universe. It encompasses the whole range of human foibles, from accidental failure and ignorance to the kind of rebellion that shakes its fist at the heavens or boldly (and foolishly) proclaims that there is no God. Sin is getting it wrong—or, to put it another way that better captures the breadth of Scriptural language on the issue, not getting it <em>perfectly</em> right, for whatever reason.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>List drawn from Stanley Grenz, <em>Theology for the Community of God</em>.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
In the Day That You Eat of It2014-03-05T14:00:00-05:002014-03-05T14:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-05:/2014/in-the-day-that-you-eat-of-it.htmlGod told Adam that if he ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil he would die on that day. Since Adam did not physically die that day, God must have made a mistake, lied, changed his mind—or been speaking of something other than physical death.<p>When God placed Adam in the Garden of Eden, he told him he could eat freely of any fruit in the garden except one: the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. If he ate from that tree, however, he would die the very day he ate of it (Genesis 2:17). When, in Genesis 3, Adam and Eve ate the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, however, they did <em>not</em> die—at least, not physically. Indeed, Adam lived to be over nine hundred years old.</p>
<p>What, then, did God mean when he told Adam that he would sure die the very day he ate of the tree? Did he lie, or make a mistake, or change his mind after the fact? Plainly put, no: none of these are true. Rather, all of them mistake the nature of the death entailed in God’s word to Adam. The death Adam immediately experienced was not physical death but spiritual death. Physical death was a consequence—a symptom, as it were—of his spiritual death.</p>
<p>This spiritual death was multifold, and we see the various elements of it traced out in the explanation of the fall given in Genesis 3. First of all came separation from God. Rather than being in right relationship with the creator, Adam now needed restoration. Whereas he had enjoyed fellowship and relationship with his maker, now Adam experienced fear at the thought of encountering him, so that he hid himself when God came walking in the garden in the cool of the day. The rest of the Old Testament traces this theme out in great detail; it is constantly asking the question, “How may these unrighteous people come before a holy God?”</p>
<p>Second, God removed Adam from the means of grace he had supplied to sustain his mortal body. He had provided a tree of life from which Adam could eat so that his body would go on living without fail. After the fall, Adam was removed from this supply, and so his body began to fall apart. He began to experience the first phase of physical death: aging and decay. He no longer had access to the supernatural sustenance he required not to die.</p>
<p>Third, he immediately experienced relational brokenness. The previously holy and mutually delightful relationship he had experienced with his wife would now be characterized by mutual blame and recriminations. Likewise, his sons would not be loving brothers: one would kill the other. No more would he live in a world characterized by peace and harmony, but one shaped by conflict and war.</p>
<p>Of all of these, though, it was the first that was most important and deepest. Adam’s separation from God was at the root of all the other problems he now faced. It was the lack of God’s spirit in him that led to his physical death. It was the lack of God’s presence in their midst, and the brokenness of his image in them, that led men and women to be in conflict rather than mutually supporting one another. With this separation came a warp in the character of humanity that comprised the final part of Adam’s immediate death: no more would his will be ready to obey God. Instead, he (and all his descendants) would be quick to turn aside to go against the grain of God’s universe. Given the opportunity, all would sin, and no one would turn away from sin without God’s intervention.</p>
<p>Thus, Adam <em>did</em> experience death the very day, indeed the very moment, that he ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The death was more profound and more horrifying than physical death alone would have been, though, because it was a death that stretched to every point of his life, from his family and the tasks with which God had entrusted him, to his very connection with God. Everything became broken in him, and he no longer knew God. In gaining the knowledge of good and evil, he lost the knowledge of the one of whom knowledge matters most.</p>
Call and Response2014-03-04T23:50:00-05:002014-03-04T23:50:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-04:/2014/call-and-response.htmlThe ways in which the Bible draws on itself are sometimes astounding. Psalm 53 and Romans 1–3 play off each other in beautiful, hopeful, helpful ways.<p>The ways in which the Bible draws on itself are sometimes astounding. A case in point: as is so often the case in my readings, the New Testament reading seems almost as though drawing explicitly on the Old Testament reading. I should note: I am not following a lectionary or any particular plan, so it is not as though this is an intentional thing. Indeed, my reading plan right now is basically: Psalms, Proverbs, wherever I need to be reading for my Old Testament survey class, and wherever I feel like reading in the New Testament. Not particularly complicated! The reason is simpler than a formal plan: it is that the authors were aware of each other, and later authors clearly drew quite consciously on the material left behind by those who went before them.</p>
<p>A case in point: Romans 1–3 and Psalm 53 both show us the state of humanity quite clearly. They get there in different ways, of course. The Psalm arrives by way of poetic rhythm and the steadily building refrain that there are those who reject God, culminating in the expectation of judgment on the enemies of God and blessings for his people (typical enough themes of the Psalms, in some ways.) In his letter to Rome, Paul builds up this notion by carefully measured argument (which is not to suggest any lack of <em>verve</em> in said argument—this is Paul we are talking about!) until he comes to the oft-cited and less-often-really-grasped reality that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23).</p>
<p>What was most striking about Psalm and epistle alike to me was not only their congruity on the state of humanity, but also their agreement on the answer to that problem. (This is not <em>surprising</em>. Just <em>striking</em>. Note well the difference between the two!) Both look not to human accomplishment or restitution for undone deeds and deeds that ought to have been left undone, but to the God who can save his people. The Psalmist cried out, praying, “Oh, that salvation for Israel would come out of Zion!” (Psalm 53:6). Paul answers:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it—the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God’s righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus.</p>
<p>Then what becomes of our boasting? It is excluded. By what kind of law? By a law of works? No, but by the law of faith. For we hold that one is justified by faith apart from works of the law. Or is God the God of Jews only? Is he not the God of Gentiles also? Yes, of Gentiles also, since God is one—who will justify the circumcised by faith and the uncircumcised through faith. (Romans 3:21-30)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Salvation <em>did</em> come for Israel, from Israel, but not only to Israel. Salvation came also to the nations. For that, I am profoundly grateful: <em>I</em> am the nations, as is almost everyone reading this. We stood condemned under the law of our conscience just as the Jewish people stood condemned by the law God had given them. All of us stood in desperate need of intervention, and so God intervened. All peoples sin, and all peoples<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> are justified by God’s grace. God is perfectly just, and he does not just overlook sin. He judges it. But he has judged it <em>in Christ</em>, and not in you or me.</p>
<p>Hallelujah.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>The plurals here are important. It is very different to say that all <em>peoples</em> will be saved than it is to say that all <em>people</em> will be saved.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Wisdom From God2014-03-03T20:55:00-05:002014-03-03T20:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-03-03:/2014/wisdom-from-god.htmlThe famous admonition in Proverbs 3 to trust Yahweh and not to lean on one's own understanding is one of the lynchpins of the book.<p>Proverbs 3, as part of the first third or so of the book focused on laying out the two paths which the remainder of the book traces out in greater detail, highlights the value of wisdom and gives the first few details as to what it looks like to walk in wisdom. First and foremost, wisdom is a matter of walking with Yahweh, in accord with his revelation of himself. Verses 3–4 make this abundantly clear, echoing as they do Moses’ words to Israel in giving them the law. Just as the people of God were to bind his law on their bodies and their hearts, so the author of the Proverbs exhorts his son to remember “steadfast love and faithfulness”—the very attributes with which Yahweh characterized himself in that climactic moment on the mountain in <cite class="bibleref"
title="Ex 34.6">Exodus 34</cite>.</p>
<p>So although some scholars have asserted that the Proverbs (and indeed the rest of the literature) developed totally separately from the Law of Israel, such a proposition looks to me more like wishful thinking on the part of secularists than an accurate acknowledgement of the shape of the text. Proverbs is not separate from the Torah. It is <em>commentary</em> on the Torah. Indeed, there is no part of the moral Law given to Israel that does <em>not</em> come up for discussion in the course of the book. Worshipping Yahweh is front and center. Murder and adultery both come in for repeated admonition. Rejection of not only covetousness and envy but also of the roots beneath them is pervasive. To put it as Dr. Heath Thomas did in my Old Testament class several weeks ago: the Torah told Israel <em>what</em> to do, and the Proverbs taught them <em>how</em>.</p>
<p>So Proverbs 3 sits as part of this project. Its famous admonition to trust Yahweh and not to lean on one’s own understanding is one of the lynchpins of the book.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> The whole book must be taken in light of this admonition. Human wisdom is not God’s wisdom.</p>
<p>It is no coincidence that the author of the book turns almost immediately from exhorting his audience to trust in Yahweh rather than in human wisdom to a picture of divine wisdom. Nor is it mere happenstance that he includes the notion that Yahweh created the earth <em>by</em> wisdom and established the heavens <em>by</em> understanding.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> This is essential to understanding the shape and argument of Proverbs. God made the world to work in a certain way, and we either walk in that way or we do not. The way we have chosen—our broken, sinful path—is not in line with the way the universe was designed. The way he has set before us—the way of reconciliation in Christ Jesus—is the way of shalom. And Proverbs thus is a guide for the Christian for what it means to follow Christ. It is the light to our path as we seek to keep God’s law, recognizing that he who made all things has also shown us how to walk in line with the way he made those things—indeed, with how he made <em>us</em>.</p>
<p>This is why we should not lean on our own understanding: because it is not only flawed, but forever incomplete. Even when we are sanctified—perhaps <em>especially</em> when we are sanctified—we will not lean on our own understanding, but rest in the wisdom of the one who <em>is</em> wisdom, and who shaped the universe to his wisdom.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>And, I would note, the key to understanding the entire book of Ecclesiastes. If we take Proverbs 3:5–8 as a guide and then we read Ecclesiastes, the problem that <em>Qoheleth</em> had becomes clear rather quickly, and then is reiterated throughout that book: the Preacher trusted his own wisdom instead of God’s. Proverbs is the foundational text for biblical wisdom, and other wisdom books must be understood in light of it.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>It is impossible not to note the connection that New Testament authors made to this concept in Christ, from John’s description of Jesus as the <em>Logos</em>—which has in its semantic range not only the idea of “word” but of “reason”—to Paul’s straightforward declaration that “Christ Jesus… became for us wisdom from God” (1 Cor. 1:30), and to the New Testament’s oft-repeated refrain that Christ was the agent of creation (cf. Col. 1:16, Heb. 1:10–12, 2:10).<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Broken and Contrite Heart2014-02-27T07:40:00-05:002014-02-27T07:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-27:/2014/a-broken-and-contrite-heart.htmlPsalm 51 is often taken as a model for our own prayers of repentance. It is that, but it is much more: it is the self-revelation of God—and it is amazing.
<p>Most often when reading through the Psalms in the past, I have taken them primarily as a model for my own interactions with God—not least when coming to Psalms like Psalm 51. Here, David’s extended prayer of repentance and supplication to God has long seemed a good model for my own prayers of like kind, and so it is—but there is more to see in this passage than a model for us. While the question, <em>Is there something to imitate (or something </em>not* to imitate) in this passage?* is a good one, there is always another fruitful question to ask of any text in the Bible: <em>What does this tell us about the person and nature of God himself?</em></p>
<p>It can often be easy to let this question fall aside, and not only in the Psalms. The temptation to miss this central issue in Scripture is no less strong when working through narratives like those in Acts. In both cases, however, we must remind ourselves that the scriptures are not merely the record of man’s response to God: they are God’s revelation of himself to man. That distinction will prevent us from running off in all sorts of unhelpful directions.</p>
<p>From Psalm 51, I learned today not only what a contrite response to God looks like, but many things about the character of God himself. First and foremost, in inspiring the editor of the Psalms to place this particular song of repentance in the Bible at all, God emphasizes to us the need for real repentance. This theme is doubly clear given the organization of the Psalms. David says here just as Asaph had said in Psalm 50: God does not delight in burnt offerings in and of themselves, but he does delight in hearts that worship God (cf. Psalm 50:8–12, 51:16–17). In fact, the two Psalms together make it abundantly clear that God detests sacrifices offered <em>without</em> the right heart—a theme that appears time and again not only in the Psalms but also throughout the Prophets. God is not the sort of being who is appeased by getting fragrant smoke or the scent of barbecue in his nostrils.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> He is instead the kind of being who is pleased by genuine repentance—turning from evil to righteousness, and by righteousness we must mean dependence on him.</p>
<p>The Psalm also draws forth several more salient points about the character of God in the structure of the prayer. If God calls us to imitate this prayer, as indeed he does, then it is because it speaks rightly and reflects right thought about him. So we can take away from it that:</p>
<ul>
<li>he has mercy on people according to his steadfast love, and out of that mercy he “blots out” our transgressions (Ps. 51:1,9)</li>
<li>he washes people of iniquity and cleanses us from our sin—not only <em>forgiving</em> our sin, but also <em>removing</em> it from us (Ps. 51:2,7)</li>
<li>he is the one against whom all sin finally is committed—even our sins against others are also sins against him (Ps. 51:4)</li>
<li>he is (and ought to be seen as) fully justified in his words<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> and blameless in his judgment—that is, that the way he rules and judges are completely right, and no one can have cause to find fault with them (Ps. 51:4)</li>
<li>he delights in truth in the depths of our souls, and by implication hates hypocrisy (Ps. 51:6)</li>
<li>he is the source of wisdom (Ps. 51:6)</li>
<li>he is the source of any joy and gladness we have, <em>especially</em> when we confront our own sin (Ps. 51:8,12)</li>
<li>he is the one who can and does give us clean hearts and right spirits where we have fouled our own hearts and broken our spirits (Ps. 51:10)</li>
<li>he may be far from us and may take his Spirit from us, but he desires that we be near to him and filled with his Spirit (Ps. 51:11)</li>
<li>he upholds us (Ps. 51:12)</li>
<li>he delivers us from guilt (Ps. 51:14)</li>
<li>his goodness ought to be proclaimed to others and he ought to be praised (Ps. 51:13,14–15)</li>
<li>he does not despise broken-heartedness or contrition—as did, say, the Greek philosophers (Ps. 51:17)</li>
</ul>
<p>Finally, the end of the Psalm highlights that personal repentance has corporate consequences, and so reminds us that God’s work in our lives is not about us alone. He is at work in his people. His work in restoring David impacted Zion/Jerusalem. David’s prayer did not stop with his own being set in right relation with God, but extended to the people of God being in right relation with God as well. The king <em>ought</em> to have such a concern for his people—and here we have a pointer to the greater king who not only had such a concern but who achieved it himself once and for all.</p>
<p>Glory to God, and thanksgiving to him for his self-revelation.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>To be sure, the Old Testament sacrificial system did please God—he instituted it!—and it culminated in the sacrifice of God the Son on our behalf. But as the author Hebrews makes clear: the burnt offerings of the Old Testament were never sufficient to save, and were always meant to point to something greater than themselves. They were present to teach the Israelites (and us) the necessity of God’s salvation, and to point to the greater sacrifice to come.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Probably including his law and his decrees about life.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Joyfully Humbling2014-02-26T19:55:00-05:002014-02-26T19:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-26:/2014/joyfully-humbling.htmlThe book of Acts is joyfully humbling. It is convicting of the need for deeper faith, and it is convincing of the need to depend on God.<p>Watching the story of the book of Acts unfold is simultaneously incredibly challenging and incredibly encouraging. The book is challenging because it shows Christians facing extraordinary challenges and committing to proclaim Christ no matter the cost to themselves. (In these chapters, for example, Paul is dragged outside the city and stoned, after which he gets up and goes on proclaiming the gospel.) So often I find myself wishing that even the ordinary trials of my life would pass more quickly and am all too quick to complain about them (internally even when I am too socially savvy to do so out loud). Looking at Peter sitting in prison, fully expecting to die at the hands of Herod just as his master had, or at Paul and Barnabas nearly everywhere they went, I am challenged to grow deeper in my own faith and my own commitment to Christ. I am convicted that I ought to complain less and praise God more, that I ought indeed to be thankful to God for the opportunity to show that I value him more than the passing comforts and pleasures of this world (even as I offer heartfelt lament to him at the brokenness of this world).</p>
<p>At the same time, the record of Acts is encouraging because it is abundantly clear throughout the book that the church advanced because the Spirit of God was empowering otherwise ordinary men and women to do great things for him. As Paul himself put it to a crowd who tried to worship him and Barnabas, “We are also men!” (Acts 14:15). As extraordinary as the faith these men and women demonstrated was, they were just people like you and me who God used. This is encouraging looking at myself, and looking around at the state of the church. Though we are all frail and broken, often quick to seek the world’s favor on the one hand and insular and unwilling to engage the lost on the other, hesitant and fainting in our proclamation of the gospel, hungry for men’s affirmation over God’s, little in faith, weak or inarticulate in speech, insufficiently thoughtful, unkind and sometimes overly politic, licentious and legalistic—still God can use us, and still it is ultimately he who saves and not we. Paul had his sharp edges, Peter his fear of man, and the early church no small number of legalistic ascetics and licentious antinomians, but God was at work nonetheless. His Spirit drew people to Christ through these earthen vessels, and he is doing the same today. God uses us in spite of our foibles, and in truth sometimes he uses us in the particular ways he does because our foibles highlight that it is he and not we who are really at work.</p>
<p>In short, then, the book of Acts is joyfully humbling. It is convicting of the need for deeper faith, and it is convincing of the need to depend on God. Both of these are cause for joy, though. Deeper faith and greater commitment to make much of Christ will bear great fruit in our lives and in the world around us when it is coupled in greater dependence on the Spirit of God to work rather than on our own techniques. Hallelujah. Go and make disciples.</p>
Wisdom Literature and Death2014-02-25T21:30:00-05:002014-02-25T21:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-25:/2014/wisdom-literature-and-death.htmlPsalm 49 is wisdom literature, and it spends quite a bit of its time on death—but it also points us to hope in God's salvation.<p>The Psalms contain a remarkable breadth of material. They range from Messianic and <a href="/2014/the-city-of-god.html">Zionic</a> songs to hymns of ovation and from laments to songs of Ascent. And they include, as here in Psalm 49, wisdom literature not so different from that which we find in Proverbs or Job or Ecclesiastes. Life is brief, these sons of Korah remind us, and when we come to the end of it, we can take nothing with us. No accumulated wealth, no pomp or prosperity, can pass death’s forbidding gates.</p>
<p>It is especially striking that this comes as part of the Psalmists’ answer to the question of how to respond to the apparent victories of cheaters and evildoers in the world around them. The very point that so perplexed the author of Ecclesiastes—that righteous and unrighteous men alike die when all is said and done—is here a point of comfort to the Psalmists. It is as if the same reality, understood differently, carries with it an entirely different meaning. And so it is. We have here one of the keys to understanding the way that the Scriptures teach us to think about the world in which we live. It is not only that the righteous and the unrighteous both die, coming sometimes without any judgment in this life to the end of their days and so passing away in seeming injustice. It is also that the injustice that they perpetrate does not and cannot endure forever; it will come to an end in the finality with which death greets all our doings.</p>
<p>Whether that end is a cause for despair or for hope comes down to a matter of wisdom. The fool looks and says, “The wicked prosper—I shall join them!” The seemingly wise person looks and says, “The wicked prosper—let us all despair!” The truly wise person looks and says, “The wicked prosper—but not forever!”</p>
<p>There are two notes that are all the more noteworthy in Psalm 49 for the way it otherwise fits into the context of ancient Israelite wisdom literature, and both relate to this same theme of coming death. In verses 7–9, and again in verse 15, there are words that cannot but make the attentive Christian reader think of things beyond the Old Testament’s vision of death. Verses 7–9 remind us:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Truly no man can ransom another,<br />
or give to God the price of his life,<br />
for the ransom of their life is costly<br />
and can never suffice,<br />
that he should live on forever<br />
and never see the pit.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>This, as I have noted, was a cause for hope for these songwriters, strange though that seems at first blush. But it also speaks to the reality we all face in a way that seemes aimed directly at the hope we see in some of the Prophets and brought fully to light in the New Testament. Someone <em>did</em> ransom men and gave to God the price of his life, paid fully the ransom that did suffice so we might live on forever and never see the pit. No man indeed could do this. But God himself could, and did. And the Psalmists seems to have seen this coming (verse 15):</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol,<br />
for he will receive me. Selah.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>This is exactly what has happened to us all. God has ransomed our souls from the power of death, and he is the one who will receive us.</p>
<p>Hallelujah.</p>
Sufficiency and Efficacy2014-02-25T08:30:00-05:002014-02-25T08:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-25:/2014/sufficiency-and-efficacy.htmlIt is most appropriate to speak of Jesus' atonement as unlimited in extent but limited in effect.<p>The extent of the atonement is one of the most debated topics in the history of the church for centuries. Whether Jesus Christ’s death provided substition for the sins of all people or just some has been the cause of many dissensions and denominational splits in the Protestant world ever since the Reformation. Most famously, Arminius and his followers were expelled from the Calvinistic churches over this very issue and the way they worked out their stance in other areas of doctrine.</p>
<p>For the most part, though, what is at issue is not whether Jesus’ death was of sufficient merit to save all people. Jesus the incarnate Son of God provided a sacrifice of infinite worth, undoubtedly of sufficient worth to cover all the sins of all mankind in all of history. Rather, the question is to whom the atonement is applied and how—or, to put it differently, to whom its benefits are available. Thus, the phrases of “limited atonement” and “unlimited atonement” are best understood as referring to the availability and effect of the atonement, <em>not</em> to its value.</p>
<p>Second, it must be recognized that all orthodox Christians affirm that the effects of the atonement are limited in at least one important sense: not all people are redeemed, and therefore not all people benefit from the atonement of Christ. To put it as many have before, all orthodox believers affirm that the atonement was “sufficient for all, but efficient for some,” for if it was “efficient” for all, then all would be saved. (To affirm any lesser effect is to diminish the atonement. This is not to say that there may not be other, broader effects of Christ’s death on the cross—e.g. the notion of prevenient grace enabling all to respond to the preached word—only that the atonement itself is not applied universally.) The question then is only who those “some” are and the terms under which the atonement is available to them.</p>
<p>The simplest answer is simply to say, “the elect!” and have done, leaving aside the tendentious question of who is elect—but this question is precisely where the rubber meets the road on the issue of the atonement. After all, everyone agrees that the only the sins of those who believe are actually removed in Christ, regardless of how election works out. Thus, when people speak of “limited” or “unlimited” atonement, they are usually speaking of the issue of general or specific election. Does the work of Christ mean that all are equally able to hear and respond to the gospel, or does it mean that only the elect are enabled to hear and respond?</p>
<p>I think the most faithful articulation of the matter is to speak of the atonement in three ways. First, we affirm that Jesus’ death was sufficient to atone for the sins of the world—<em>all</em> the world. Second, we offer the atonement freely to everyone. Although the only the elect will be saved (however we understand that to play out), the Scriptures clearly enjoin us to proclaim Christ’s subtitutionary death and justifying resurrection to sinners everywhere and to urge everyone to repent and trust in him. Third, we affirm that the saving work of the atonement is applied to the sins of those who confess Christ as Savior and Lord and obey him. We need not perfectly understand or agree upon the means by which people come to confess Christ as Lord to affirm that it is only in that affirmation and obedience that one’s sins are covered in the atonement.</p>
<p>It is thus most appropriate to speak of Jesus’ atonement as unlimited in extent but limited in effect.</p>
The City of God2014-02-24T07:50:00-05:002014-02-24T07:50:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-24:/2014/the-city-of-god.htmlMeditating on Zion—that is, on Jerusalem both old and new—does not seem at first blush a fertile ground for worship. But that is exactly where the Psalmist takes us in Psalm 48.<p>As I work through the Psalms after having covered them in my Old Testament survery class, a few themes are much more apparent to me than they had been before. Notably, looking at Psalm 48, the prominence of Zion throughout the Psalms and in this Psalm in particular is striking. It is of course not Zion itself that is the cause for note and rejoicing, but the presence of Yahweh within the city. (The temple in this city is where God makes his dwelling place on earth—a striking thought!) But the city does come in for special notice because Yahweh dwells there, and does so often throughout the Old Testament.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Great is the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> and greatly to be praised<br />
in the city of our God!<br />
His holy mountain, beautiful in elevation,<br />
is the joy of all the earth,<br />
Mount Zion, in the far north,<br />
the city of the great King.</div>
<p>(Psalm 48:1–2)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The temple of God, his dwelling place with and among us, comes up over and over again throughout the Scriptures. It is there from the very beginning, from Eden where God would walk with his people in the cool of the day. It is there in the end, in the New Jerusalem where the dwelling place of God is with man and there is no temple at all because God himself is the temple. It is here, now, in the time when the people of God have replaced a building and become a temple of living stones.</p>
<p>The Psalmist’s call to survey Zion (Psalm 48:12–13a) does what all such calls in the Scriptures do: it points the listener to the God whose dwelling place Zion is (48:13b–14). Yahweh will establish this city forever (48:8) as a mark of his triumph over the (rebellious) nations, and as a result his name—that is, knowledge of him and his character—and his praise will fill the ends of the earth. And the end of people coming to this city will be that all will know that “this is our God, / our God forever and ever. He will guide us forever.”<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a></p>
<p>Meditating on Zion—that is, on Jerusalem both old and new—does not seem at first blush a fertile ground for worship. But that is exactly where the Psalmist has taken us. The old Jerusalem was the city that rejected the prophets and finally rejected the prophet like Moses, the promised Davidic king (a point driven home rather forcefully in Stephen’s monologue in Acts 7, which I also read today). Though it was the dwelling place of God, it was also the city that rejected God—much as Adam and Eve had done in Eden. That even so God dwelt there, that even so God dwells with us who are so often so very sinful, is nothing short of astounding. That he will someday bring down a new Jerusalem that he has made, and in which he will be both the spiritual center and the righteous ruler, is the more astounding yet.</p>
<p>So with the Psalmist, I thank God for his city. And with the Psalmist, I look forward to the day when God shows his glory to all the earth through his city.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>And the New. But I’ll get to that.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>“Forever” here has sometimes been read as “beyond death.” There’s a striking image in the Old Testament, opaque about the fate of men and women after death as it usually is!<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Mighty Change2014-02-19T23:12:00-05:002014-02-19T23:12:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-19:/2014/a-mighty-change.htmlThe work done in our hearts by the Holy Spirit is nothing short of breathtaking.<p>One of the most remarkable transformations in history comes in the beginning of the second chapter of Acts. A group of obviously-still-confused men and women were gathered for prayer, and the Holy Spirit came like fire on them and set the world on its head. The epoch-making change in this group of people is shocking to consider. In Acts 1, only a few weeks earlier, these same disciples had been expecting the resurrected Jesus to restore the kingdom to Israel. This is truly marvelous: Jesus the Christ had risen from the dead, and all his teachings had still not sunk in. They still did not understand that what he was about was the restoration of <em>all</em> things, not only the restoration of Israel. This was why they needed the Holy Spirit: although they had been given explanation after explanation, some of them incredibly clear (as to the disciples on the road to Emmaus after Jesus’ resurrection from the dead). It did not matter: they still did not understand.</p>
<p>And then the Holy Spirit came, and as promised (see Acts 1:5 and cf. John 14ff.) the Spirit gave them understanding and wisdom like they could scarcely have imagined before. The external changes are notable in many ways: suddenly these disciples were speaking in languages they did not know and performing astonishing miracles. But the internal changes are what really tell us what happened. Peter and the others transformed from people dominated by fear to people characterized by bold confidence in the Lord—and not just any “lord”, but his Lord Jesus Christ. Likewise, whereas before they had still mistakenly been looking foran earthly rule, Peter and the others now recognized that Christ demanded allegiance no less when reigning beside his father in Heaven than he would have taking up a kingship here on earth. “Repent and believe,” they cry out to all, “and your sins will be forgiven and the Lord God will be your God.”</p>
<p>And each of us is filled with this self-same Holy Spirit, the means of the Son’s work for the Father in the Trinity. We have in us the same spirit that raised Jesus Christ from the dead, animated the early church, and has given life to his people ever since. This is not small thing. Indeed, though we tend in intellectual Reformed circles largely to overlook the work of the Spirit, and though our Charismatic brothers tend to emphasize points that Scripture does not, we need to invest more time in understanding the Spirit and his work rightly. But in any case, we have this glorious treasure: Christ formed in us by the very means of the salvation of the world, his Spirit.</p>
A Commentary on the Rest of the Bible2014-02-18T23:00:00-05:002014-02-18T23:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-18:/2014/a-commentary-on-the-rest-of-the-bible.htmlIn fact, in many ways, Revelation reads like a summary and recapitulation of the rest of the Bible, set in apocalyptic terms that herald the end of the age and the consummation of all things.<p>Once again, reading the Psalms in conjunction with Revelation is a striking experience. Psalm 46 could be a meditation on the prophecies of Revelation 14– 22, in many ways… but of course, this has it backwards. It is not surprising that the Psalms (or indeed almost any other part of the Bible) should sound like a complement to Revelation when held up next to the final book. Reading through Revelation this week hammered home just how familiar John was with the rest of the Bible. Whether he knew the Pauline corpus to quote it is hard to say,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> but he certainly quotes and alludes to sayings of Jesus that are <em>not</em> in the gospel of John but are in the other gospels, and of course his command of the Old Testament is astounding. In fact, in many ways, Revelation reads like a summary and recapitulation of the rest of the Bible, set in apocalyptic terms that herald the end of the age and the consummation of all things.</p>
<p>Revelation can be confusing, to be sure, but after having spent several years away from the book,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> and now coming back to it again much more familiar with the rest of the Bible,<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> its confusing points dim in light of what is clear to me. That is: for all that John records many visions, he spends at least as much time repeating themes and statements and phrases from the rest of the Scripture, tying together what had previously been disparate elements into a unified whole. In the course of the book, I think John quotes every major prophet and references every (or nearly every) major apocalyptic image presented throughout the Old Testament and many or most of those in the New. He certainly also references Psalms and the Pentateuch; I would feel confident guessing that there are references to the historical writings and wisdom literature that I simply missed.</p>
<p>In short, John’s command of the rest of the Scriptures is simply astounding. John was not only the recipient of visions; he was also a masterful expositor of the word of God. The revelation was given to him, I think, at least in part because he had so thoroughly learned the rest of the Bible and could rightly situate the visions he was given in the rest of salvation history. As each page fills up with quote after quote and allusion after allusion to the rest of the great book of God’s work, Revelation becomes more and more comprehensible.</p>
<p>To be sure, some of the details remain fuzzy.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> But what comes through clearly —not least through the constant references to the rest of Scripture—is that the Lord God, the All-Powerful,<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a> will in the end bring justice on the earth. He will destroy Satan and crush evil and end the cosmic rebellion against the only good and true one. He will establish righteousness and justice and peace on the earth. He will give eternal life to those who worship him. God will dwell with man. Hallelujah.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>He who testifies to these things says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!</p>
<p>The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen. (Revelation 22:20–21, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>At least, for this non-expert who hasn’t explicitly looked for quotes from or allusions to Paul in Revelation.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>The last time I read through Revelation was sometime in 2012, I believe, as I read through the whole Bible that year.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>I have spent a great deal of time reading and re-reading the Prophets and the Gospels over the course of 2013 and early 2014.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>As indeed at least some of them likely did to the original audience; I strongly suspect that we are not <em>meant</em> to understand perfectly all that is shown in Revelation.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>A rendering I picked up from the <a href="http://lexhamenglishbible.com">Lexham English Bible</a>, and which I rather like.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
The Greater Messiah2014-02-17T21:40:00-05:002014-02-17T21:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-17:/2014/the-greater-messiah.htmlIt is nearly impossible to read Psalm 45 as a New Covenant believer in Yahweh without seeing its contents in terms of Christ and his bride, the church.<p>It is nearly impossible to read Psalm 45 as a New Covenant believer in Yahweh without seeing its contents in terms of Christ and his bride, the church. That the Psalm was written with an ordinary bride for a normal king of Israel in mind is a trifle mind-boggling, in fact, given how perfectly the Psalm ends up picturing the Messianic realities in which we now live and whose final fulfillment we now await. It is, in short, a perfect picture of how the Holy Spirit superintended the composition of Scripture so that over time (and especially with the Advent of Jesus the Messiah) all the words have been filled up with more meaning.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>There are many Messianic poems in the Psalter, and few (if any) of them were originally written with a clear expectation of a future God-man Messiah. They speak of normal human kings—the “anointed ones” of Israel—in hopeful and prayerful terms, terms that God then filled up in himself when he came and dwelt among us.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> They speak of the aspirations of Israel that were always dashed on the rocks of human fallibility, and which were finally fulfilled by inversion in a king who died at the hands of oppressors rather than toppling them. They speak of the King who, though his reign has been inaugurated since he rose from that death, has still not put his enemies under his feet. Israel waited, and we wait.</p>
<p>Reading the Psalm next to the Revelation given to John only makes these thematic ties more apparent. The Psalmist writes:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Gird your sword on your thigh, O mighty one,<br />
in your splendor and majesty!<br />
In your majesty ride out victoriously<br />
for the cause of truth and meekness and righteousness;<br />
let your right hand teach you awesome deeds!<br />
Your arrows are sharp<br />
in the heart of the king’s enemies;<br />
the peoples fall under you. (Psalm 45:3-5, ESV)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>And John writes:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Then the seventh angel blew his trumpet, and there were loud voices in heaven, saying, “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever.” And the twenty-four elders who sit on their thrones before God fell on their faces and worshiped God, saying,</p>
<div class="line-block">"We give thanks to you, Lord God Almighty,<br />
who is and who was,<br />
for you have taken your great power<br />
and begun to reign.<br />
The nations raged,<br />
but your wrath came,<br />
and the time for the dead to be judged,<br />
and for rewarding your servants, the prophets and saints,<br />
and those who fear your name,<br />
both small and great,<br />
and for destroying the destroyers of the earth." (Revelation 11:15-18, ESV)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>The Anointed King that Israel was looking for will reign. He will put all his enemies under his feet. His bride will come to him in splendor, and be radiant and beautiful beyond measure. It is not exactly what the Psalmist had in mind, because it is better. So it often is in our lives, I think. We look for lesser things. We look for only what we can imagine and conceive, and our imaginations and conceptions are extraordinarily small and limited by comparison with the things of God. To be sure, in my own life I have often been limited to a very small view of God’s plans and purposes. More and more I recognize that his wisdom is greater than I can begin to grasp, and from that see the necessity of trusting and worshipping him all the more fully.</p>
<p>Part of that is looking with expectancy to Jesus’ return—recognizing that even the truest and best longings of my heart are but the shallowest hint of what he willbring about when he returns. That the dwelling place of God will be with man, that every evil will be crushed under his justice, and that the garden will have become a glorious city where God will dwell with us and we with him? This is more than I can grasp. But I can hope, and dream, and pray: “Lord come soon.”</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>It is no coincidence that the author of Hebrews quotes Psalm 45 at length, explicitly applying vv. 6–7 to Jesus as the one who is above all others.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>“Anointed one” is, for example, the term David uses to describe Saul when explaining why he would not kill him. This was the standard term for Israel’s kings. And just like so many other things, the Spirit filled it up with far more meaning when Jesus came as <em>the</em> Anointed One.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Martyr-Saints2014-02-14T23:55:00-05:002014-02-14T23:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-14:/2014/martyr-saints.htmlThe kingdom of heaven does not come by accident; it comes because men and women sacrifice their lives and die for the gospel.<p>As we were praying this evening, I spent a few minutes praying for our brothers and sisters in North Korea. I was deeply moved by the reality that they face every day—persecution, imprisonment, death. There is nothing quite like it in the Western experience of Christianity over the last 1700 years, and little like it elsewhere in the world right now. To be sure, there is persecution that saints around the world face, throughout both the Middle and Far East especially. But North Korea is the harshest and most brutal place in the world —and there are men and women suffering and dying there for the name of Christ. So we prayed for the end of the wicked tyranny of the country’s current leadership, and for the gospel to flourish there, and for those faithful saints to be rewarded and delivered.</p>
<p>Then I read tonight in Revelation 4–7. Two things stood out. The first I have written about before in these devotional reflections: there is a clearly articulated expectation of judgment on the eart. Chapter 6 is a fairly dreadful picture of the wrath of God poured out on a sinful world, and it stands all the more starkly for the reality tha t the majority of the content in these four chapters is <em>not</em> on judgment, bu ton God and his people. Indeed, these chapters contain some of the most beautiful praises offered to God anywhere in Scripture.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Worthy are you to take the scroll<br />
and to open its seals,<br />
for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God,<br />
from every tribe and language and people and nation,<br />
and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God,<br />
and they shall reign on the earth.<br />
…<br />
Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,<br />
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might,<br />
and honor and glory and blesing!<br />
…<br />
To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb<br />
be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!</div>
<p class="citation">
(Revelation 5:9b–10,12b, 13b)
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Set in the midst of this, and against the backdrop of praise and judgment, is this striking image:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slain for the word of God and for the witness they ahd borne. They cried out with a loud voice, “O Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long before you will judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?” Then they were each given a white robe and told to rest a little longer, until the number of their fellow servants and their brothers should be complete, who were to be killed as they themselves had been. (Revelation 6:9–11)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The martyrs of God are asked to wait a bit longer, to be yet more patient, before God executes judgment on the earth. And why? Because the number of martyrs is not yet full. This is a shocking, challenging statement. The kingdom of heaven does not come by accident, or by those who are willing to just let it come on its own time. It comes because men and women sacrifice their lives and die for the gospel. It comes because many of our sisters and brothers over the centuries have not counted their lives more precious than Christ, but have counted the souls of the lost more valuable than their own comfort or short-term physical existence. You and I are believers because of such men and women, who have advanced the kingdom of God through the proclamation of the gospel to hard places since the time of the apostles.</p>
<p>The very least we can do for our brothers and sisters who are helping to fill up that number is pray for them: for their ministry to be effective, for them to be delivered from death, for them to remain faithful in the face of such harsh persecution, and for their governments to cease thte oppression and the gospel to go forth in power. So shall I remembere to do going forward, Lord willing.</p>
The Question and Its Answer2014-02-13T23:10:00-05:002014-02-13T23:10:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-13:/2014/the-question-and-its-answer.htmlReading Revelation and Ecclesiastes side by side is like reading the answer to a question.<p>Here is the great mystery of our faith:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he laid his right hand on me, saying, “Fear not, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I died, and behold I am alive forevermore, and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” (Revelation 1:17–18)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Jesus is the one who was before all, and he is and forever will be. And Jesus is also the one who died. And Jesus is also the firstborn from the dead (Revelation 1:5)—he who died now lives again.</p>
<p>As Jesus said of another truth of our faith: with man, these things are impossible, but with God, all things are impossible.</p>
<hr />
<p>In Revelation 3:11, Jesus said, “I am coming soon.” Now, some take this to mean that the book is a lie; others take it to mean that Jesus came back in some mystical way and will not return physically to reign on the earth. I take it to mean that “soon” in the eyes of the Almighty who is first and last and reigns forever and ever is not exactly the same as “soon” in the eyes of feeble humans with our limited understanding. The Lord may return any day now—and so it has been these past twenty centuries. We wait expectantly, calling out in our hearts (and sometimes with our lips as well) “Lord, come soon!” And in the interval, this time between the times, we do our best to wait faithfully so that he does not come like a thief and surprise us (Rev. 3:3).</p>
<hr />
<p>Psalm 43 serves as another reminder that the Psalms are not some haphazard collection. They were put together in the order they are for a reason. Psalms 42 and 43 are distinct, but they share a refrain and a common line. Whereas 42 functioned as a lament and stated the troubles facing the author, 43 turns and asks justice of God. The contrast is helpful. There is a time simply to let God know our sorrows and our frustrations, and then to instruct our souls to praise him in the midst of those sorrows and frustrations. There is also a time to plead with him to deliver us, and to instruct our souls to praise him as we wait for that deliverance to come. Those may seem like small distinctions, but they matter. We <em>know</em> they matter; else the Spirit-inspired editor of the Psalms would not have placed these two here next to each other to contrast with each other in this way.</p>
<hr />
<p>Reading the final chapter of Ecclesiastes and the first chapters of Revelation together is like reading the question and its answer all at once. Ecclesiastes 12 contains some of the most evocative language on the close of life and the vanity of this-worldly existence to be found anywhere in all the literature of all the world. It is a sad passage, meditating on the way all things fade away. Revelation 1, on the other hand, is as clear a declaration that this world is not all there is as anyone could ask. The eternal king of all rulers stands forth to declare that he—he who died and now lives again—is coming soon and will set the world aright, and those who trust in him will receive eternal rewards and even reign alongside him. The world around us is fading, it is true, but there will come a day when it is renewed, when all the things that faded blossom again into gloriously new life. The Preacher could not see that day, but that he longed to could not be clearer from the text.</p>
<p>So together with him we say, “Lord, come soon.”</p>
The God Who Is Near2014-02-12T22:40:00-05:002014-02-12T22:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-12:/2014/the-god-who-is-near.htmlFor the authors of Psalm 42, God's salvation remained far off in many ways. For us, God's salvation has come, and we participate in him and partake of him.<p>Psalm 42 comes in three parts: two statements of woe, and a refrain. It is an interesting open to the second of five “books” that make up the Psalms, and the first of the psalms of the sons of Korah. The Psalm includes many of the most evocative images in the whole book, and many of those we quote most often:</p>
<p>Psalm 42:1:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">As a deer pants for flowing streams,<br />
so pants my soul fo ryou, O God.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Psalm 42:5 (also 11, which repeeats it):</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Why are you cast down, O my soul,<br />
and why are you in turmoil within me?<br />
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,<br />
my salvation and my God.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Psalm 42:7:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Deep calls to deep<br />
at the roar of your waterfalls;<br />
all your breakers and your waves<br />
have gone over me.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>The Psalm is true to life, evocative, and profoundly moving to me. So often we confront a world in which it seems that all God’s waves have gone over us. Yet the Psalm teaches us both the right response to such circumstances (“Hope in God; for I shall again praise him”) but also about who God is. As I have noted before, the Psalms are not merely our response to God: they are also his inspired revelation of himself.</p>
<p>He is the God upon whom we may call in such times. He is the one who “commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with [us]” (verse 7). He is the God of our lives (verse 7 again). He is the one who alone can quench the thirst of our souls. It is his presence that will satisfy us, and nothing else. Being removed from him is death to us, though we often forget it in the callousness of life in a dead world (verses 1–2). He is the God who made and owns the waterfalls and the sea and all the lands (verses 6–7). He is the God who calls his people to go with glad shouts and songs of praise, keeping festival (verse 4). He is the God who knows our tears, even when it seems he does not, for he is the God who has <em>shared</em> our tears.</p>
<p>For the author(s) of this Psalm, God’s salvation remained far off in many ways. For us, God’s salvation has come, and we participate in him and partake of him. It is not only that God has given us salvation; it is that God <em>is</em> our salvation, and for us that salvation has become quite specific. He is Jesus, the Messiah, the anointed king who does justice and righteousness and peace on the earth. When the enemies of God’s people taunt and say, “Where is your God?” (verses 3, 10), and when our lives are filled with tears and mourning (verses 3, 9), we know where our God is. He is enthroned; and seated at the right hand of that throne; and enthroned in our hearts. He is in all and through all and over all. He is near to us, even in the times when he is silent and seems far away.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Why are you cast down, O my soul,<br />
and why are you in turmoil within me?<br />
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,<br />
my salvation and my God.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Amen.</p>
“God is Love”2014-02-11T22:00:00-05:002014-02-11T22:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-11:/2014/god-is-love.html<p>Summary: God is love—but God is not corrupted human sentimentality. He is holy, and his love and justice run hand in hand.</p>
<p>Our culture has a fixation on the idea that “God is love.” I remember a conversation I had the first weekend I arrived at the University of …</p><p>Summary: God is love—but God is not corrupted human sentimentality. He is holy, and his love and justice run hand in hand.</p>
<p>Our culture has a fixation on the idea that “God is love.” I remember a conversation I had the first weekend I arrived at the University of Oklahoma, most of a decade ago, in which I was discussing with others how God could possibly be a God of love and yet still judge anyone. Likewise, I had another conversation with a friend a few years later in which he argued that this statement in 1 John was the central statement of the character of God. In both cases (as in many others since), it seemed the idea was that this statement was a trump card that overruled anything that contradicted the idea of love held by those pointing to this view.</p>
<p>There are of course many problems with the idea that “God is love” trumps everything else in the Scriptures. First of all, it is not the only statement of God’s character. Quick to mind for anyone familiar with the scriptures are other statements. Right here in the same book, we have “God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). And of course we have passages throughout the Bible reminding us emphatically that “Holy, holy, holy is Yahweh Almighty” (see e.g. Isaiah 6:3). So yes, God <em>is</em> love… and he <em>is</em> light, and he <em>is</em> holy, and so on. Indeed, it is his holiness that comes on display throughout the Scriptures most often.</p>
<p>But there is another problem with the idea that God’s love is somehow in tension with historic Christian ideas about sin and the need of salvation. That problem is the entire rest of the book of 1 John—and for that matter, the rest of <em>this verse</em>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. (1 John 4:8–10)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>God’s love is not a mushy, sappy thing easily turned to overlook sins. It is the kind of love that pursues reconciliation fiercly, and which does not brook rejection lightly. It is the kind of love that dies on behalf of the beloved— but to what end? <em>To make propitiation for sins.</em> Our sins needed to be propitiated. So yes, God is love—but God is <em>not</em> corrupted human sentimentality. The same author who wrote that God is love half a chapter later says:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Whoever does not believe God has made him a liar, because he has not believed in the testimony that God has borne concerning his Son. And this is the testimony, that God gave us eternal life, and this life is in his Son. Whoever has the Son has life; whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life. (1 John 5:10b–12)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is not the sort of thing that fits nicely in a hyper-“tolerant” view of the world, in which no offense may be condemned (save perhaps condemnation). It is, however, a beautiful and magnificent picture of a God who loves so fiercely he would die to deal with his beloved’s offense, though that offense be against him. It is a picture of a God whose love does not conflict with his justice but runs hand in hand with it. It is a picture of a Savior who laid down his life for his sheep <em>and</em> who will not lightly see that salvation scorned. It is a picture of a real God who really is reigning over all in wisdom and goodness— goodness that is not mere fondness or tolerance, but which passionately seeks the good of the whole universe, including every man and woman.</p>
<p>Hallelujah. We have a great God.</p>
Like His Brothers in Every Way2014-02-11T08:30:00-05:002014-02-11T08:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-11:/2014/like-his-brothers-in-every-way.htmlIf Jesus could not have sinned, then he was not really like us in every way. And that—to put it mildly—is a really serious problem.<p>Whether Jesus could have sinned or not is a question to tangle the mind. On the one hand, we affirm that he was fully human, and this affirmation binds us to affirm that he could indeed sin: all humans are capable of sinning, and apart from Jesus, all humans <em>have</em> sinned. The author of Hebrews reminds us forcefully that Jesus was made like his brothers—which is to say, <em>us</em>—in every respect, being tempted like them, yet without sin. On the other hand, we recognize that the Godhead is sinless and that, as James reminds us, he neither tempts nor can be tempted with evil. As with many issues relating to the Incarnation, we face the challenge of holding together both Jesus’ full deity and his full humanity. When either is lost (or even simply diminished) in order to emphasize or preserve the other, important aspects of our faith break in serious ways.</p>
<p>Difficult (mysterious even) the question may be, but the author of Hebrews leaves little doubt. Jesus was tempted like us in <em>every</em> way—not only in some ways, but in every way. This is an essential affirmation for the Christian faith. If Jesus could not sin, then he was not fully human, and his perfect life is unsurprising and not particularly meaningful. If he <em>could</em> sin, then his perfect life is extraordinary and especially meaningful.</p>
<p>At the same time, we must integrate the things that Hebrews and James (and the rest of the Scriptures) teach us. If the Godhead cannot be tempted by sin and Jesus <em>was</em> tempted by sin, does this make Jesus somehow <em>not</em> God? No, for this misses the rest of the witness of the New Testament, including those selfsame books. James himself calls Jesus Lord in terms that, set against a Jewish background, can only be understood to refer to God himself (see especially James 5:11, perhaps the most direct quote of Exodus 34:6 in the whole New Testament and an unmistakable reference to Yahweh God). Neither can we admit the notion that James and Hebrews disagree with each other—at least, not and maintain our affirmation of the unity of Scripture, which is a non-negotiable from where I stand.</p>
<p>As with many things in the Trinity and the Incarnation, then, we are left making a dual (and apparently conflicting affirmation). Jesus’ humanity was perfectly capable of sinning, and his divinity was incapable of sinning. The Incarnation holds the two together in a single person, and so we affirm that Jesus could have sinned, but did not. We note, too, that he did not precisely because he did as all humans are called to do (and what glorified humans <em>will</em> do) and perfectly trusted the Father by obeying the Holy Spirit. Jesus’ perfect life was not the domination of his humanity by his divinity, but the submission of his humanity to the divinity of the Trinity.</p>
<p>Thus we affirm that Jesus’ not sinning on our behalf was a real moral victory, not a hollow thing we can only look at bemusedly from afar. He lived as a real second Adam, doing what the first Adam failed to do while beset by many more and far greater temptations than the first Adam. He really did overcome the world— not only its powers, but its temptations. He really did demonstrate true and perfect holiness that we might follow his example. He really did triumph over every power of sin, that we might be transformed into his likeness. Though the triune God is never tempted to sin, the triune God mysteriously partook of everything it is to be human in the Incarnation, and that humanity <em>could</em> be tempted—and he overcame.</p>
Joy Comes… After Pleading2014-02-10T22:50:00-05:002014-02-10T22:50:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-10:/2014/joy-comes-after-pleading.htmlPsalm 40 is a beautiful picture of rejoicing in God's salvation—and it is much sweeter set against the pleading of Psalm 39.<p>In addition to the devotional reading I have been recording here, I have been working through large stretches of the Old Testament in my second Old Testament survey class, which covers everything after Job in your English Bible—the Psalms, the Wisdom literature, and all the Prophets. To cover all that ground in a single semester requires moving quickly—so quickly that I both skip over details I might otherwise be attentive to, and pick up on overarching themes I might otherwise miss. This is particularly evident in the Psalms, and having just gone through them at a high pace makes the flow and the context of each individual Psalm more apparent as I come to them for the details again in my ordinary devotional reading. Reading large chunks and then coming back through the same section more slowly is such a helpful practice that I expect I shall try to keep it up.</p>
<p>Coming to Psalm 40, I am right in the middle of the Psalms of David—a whole stretch focusing on<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> David’s life and circumstances. Reading this particular Psalm on its own is illuminating in its own ways, of course. It is easy to come away with a sense of the joy of salvation from the exultant verses here. The poem leaps from one triumphant note to another, rejoicing in how Yahweh delivers his people and his anointed one. Hallelujah to that!</p>
<p>The Psalm’s meaning is much, much richer when situated in the broader context of the book, though. When we turn back a single song and look at Psalm 39, we see that not every moment is so rosy and joyful. As I noted in my <a href="/2014%20/with-confidence/">last post</a>, the prayer in Psalm 39 is bold and leans hard on God— because David <em>needed</em> God profoundly. He needed salvation from his sins; he recognized the brevity of his own life and especially its fragility before the almighty maker of heaven and earth;<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> he knew that only Yahweh could accomplish what he needed. The (Spirit-inspired!) editor of the Psalms took these two poems on David’s life and set them next to each other to teach us something about the contours of a life devoted to Yahweh. Not every moment is either sorrowful <em>or</em> rejoicing. More often, each one leads into the other as the seasons of our life ebb and flow.</p>
<p>This ebb and flow is <em>good</em>. We see the beauty of our salvation the more clearly because it is set against the backdrop of our great need for salvation. All too often, we recognize that need only because we have been forced to by our circumstances—by the travails of human life that range from parenting a teething toddler to staring death full in its cancerous face (and we ought not make little or too much of either, different scales though they be). We sometimes find the joy of our salvation sweeter and more savory when we have wrestled through the pain of loss and the wrestling with God that ensues. We sometimes treasure God’s answer more when has required us to wait for it—to wait for <em>him</em>.</p>
<p>This is not to say that every trial is aimed at this end. It is to say that the contrast between Psalms 39 and 40 helps us see that <em>sometimes</em> our trials work out to deepen our joy in salvation. That in turn helps us hold on to God all the more in the face of those trials, because it stands as one more picture of his goodness and wisdom, and thus of his trustworthiness.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Whether written <em>by</em> or written <em>about</em>—the grammar in the headings is a bit ambiguous; “of” here can mean “about” or “by”.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Why, yes, that is a reference to the creed, and no, I can’t think of those words without hearing Rich Mullins sing them.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
With Confidence2014-02-08T23:27:00-05:002014-02-08T23:27:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-08:/2014/with-confidence.htmlDavid prayed with shocking boldness for deliverance from his own sin and the consequences thereof. We ought to follow his example.<p>The Psalms simultaneously model for us and teach us. They show us how we ought to approach God, and teach us who God is. Psalm 39 is no exception: it does both, through and through. David opens the Psalm by expressing a sentiment we have all shared at some time or another: holding our tongue around those who are actively causing us grief or harm, lest we sin, and finally coming to a point when we can hold back our frustration no longer. Unlike my typical response, though, David did not lash out at those who frustrated him. As is typical of the response the Psalms record, David turned instead to God. It is a striking turn:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">As I mused, the fire burned<br />
then I spoke with my tongue:<br />
O Yahweh…</div>
</blockquote>
<p>The rest of the Psalm is addressed not to David’s enemies (mentioned in verse 1) as a rebuke, but to the one who can deliver him from those enemies and from his own sin. It is not a quiet, passive Psalm, but a loud and forceful request (though not, notably, a demand) that Yahweh be gracious and deliver David from his own transgressions. There is acknowledgement, to be sure, of fault, but also bold importuning of the sovereign God of the universe to act in a certain way in David’s life <em>when David had sinned</em>. Even to those of us who stand on this side of the cross—we who are enjoined to come confidently before the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16)—this kind of boldness is a bit shocking.</p>
<p>The Psalms are full of this kind of thing—and frankly, it tends to make most of us uncomfortable. The idea that we could thus address God seems out of line or inappropriate. It seems remarkably bold to say to God, “Hear my prayer, O <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, / and give ear to my cry; / hold not your peace at my tears!” More: it seems on the verge of untrusting, not to recognize that God always has his right and wise reasons for acting as he does and allowing (even ordaining) the things we experience. David has no qualms about this, though; in fact, it typifies the way he and the other Psalmists address God in the midst of trouble.</p>
<p>I wonder if perhaps we struggle with these kinds of prayers precisely because <em>we</em> do not know or trust God as we ought. (And that we? It points mostly at me here.) David could come beseech God to be merciful and kind to him by delivering him from his own sin because he knew God to be merciful and gracious. He could plead boldly with God because he knew that God is both all-good and all-wise, and that God’s answer would be <em>right</em>. In short, he could come boldly before the throne of Yahweh Almighty because he <em>knew</em> Yahweh Almighty. How much more can we who have seen Yahweh’s mercy writ large in the grotesque humiliations of the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus be confident in his goodness and wisdom and mercy toward us? When we see our own sin, and when we taste discipline for that sin, are we able to go to our Father in heaven and plead for deliverance from our own folly with this kind of confidence?</p>
<p>If not, it is only because we do not know him or trust him as we ought.</p>
Imperatives and Indicatives2014-02-07T21:30:00-05:002014-02-07T21:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-07:/2014/imperatives-and-indicatives.htmlColossians opens with amazing, beautiful indicatives and then moves to marvelous, impossible imperatives.<p>Paul’s typical format for his letters is to lay out a series of doctrinal statements in the first half of the epistle and then follow it up with a series of exhortations flowing out of those truths in the second half. This is not a hard rule with him. He has letters like 1 and 2 Corinthians in which the content moves back and forth more freely between the two kinds of material, and he also mixes imperatives in with indicatives and vice versa in all his letters. On the whole, though Colossians follows this pattern fairly closely: chapter 1 and the first part of chapter 2 are statements of theological truth (and among the highest and weightiest such in Scripture), and the rest of the book moves into the Christian response to these truths.</p>
<p>In a mere 44 verses (fewer if one leaves out the introduction), Paul traverses enormous depths of theology. Christ is the author of Creation, the one in whom all things hold together. He is before all things. He is the head of the church. He is the image of the invisible God. He is the heir (“firstborn”) of creation; it belongs to him in its entirety. He is the firstborn (and heir) of the resurrection from the dead.</p>
<p>It is no surprise, then, that the consequences range over all aspects of human life. There is nothing that goes untouched: not our family life, nor our economic behavior, nor our religious activity, nor our thoughts or actions in any area. Paul enjoined the Colossians to set aside all “sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry…. anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth” (Colossians 3:5,8). As Abraham Kuyper put it of culture, there is no part of life over which Christ does not shout, “Mine!” So it is in our lives as well: we are his wholly and utterly, fight it though we often do at times. We may foolishly cling to our sins, or we may seek to be sanctified in every area of our lives.</p>
<p>Note well the constant return to the foundational truths on which that call to holiness is built. Paul not only lays out these exhortations as following the indication of all Christ has already done, but points again and again to the reality that sanctifiaction can happen only as we are joined with Christ. We died with Christ (2:20) and have been raised with Christ (3:1). He is our life (3:4) and our life is hidden with God in Christ (3:3). Christ is all, and in all (3:11). His peace rules in our hearts (3:15); his word dwells in us richly in the context of song and psalm (3:16).</p>
<p>These are not small things, or light matters. These are magnificent and holy, and they call us to be holy likewise. God is very great—very far beyond us— but he draws us near in his loving kindness and calls us out of our selfishness and sin and into his holy ways. Hallelujah.</p>
The Wicked Perish2014-02-06T22:41:00-05:002014-02-06T22:41:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-06:/2014/the-wicked-perish.htmlOne of the reasons I sometimes struggle with passages speaking of God's judgment on the wicked is because I do not face persecution or active hostility from those who hate God. I have a lot to learn.<p>It is apparent to me that one of the reasons I sometimes struggle with passages speaking of God’s judgment on the wicked is because I do not face persecution or active hostility from those who hate God. I might get called names or insulted occasionally (though only occasionally), but I have never been at risk of loss of property, much less of health or life, because I follow Christ. Believers in other places and other times are not so at ease among those who do not follow God. For those who are not so at ease, the prosperity and success of those who oppress them are much larger concerns—much nearer to home, and much more urgently in need of justice.</p>
<p>Thus, in both of Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians, he encourages them to remain steadfast in part by pointing to God’s future judgment on the enemies of Christ. He points them to the future return of Jesus not to remove the believers from this world, but to judge those who reject God and to rule in righteousness over the world. That is a cause for rejoicing for believers: all of us want to see the world put right, with an end to poverty and war, cancer and rape, tornadoes and abortion, Alzheimers and murder, oppression and death. Nearly <em>everyone</em> wants this kind of world, in theory. But in practice, we are either children of God or people who “refused to love the truth and so be saved” (2 Thessalonians 2:10). And those who refuse to love the truth and be saved oppress and murder the people of God (and everyone else, but <em>especially</em> the people of God).</p>
<p>Our fellow believers in Saudi Arabia and Iran and North Korea are not reading these passages of judgment and wondering how God could judge so harshly. They are reading them and holding fast to the hope that this day will come <em>soon</em>, when those who grind underfoot the poor, the widow, and the orphan, who throw Jesus’ followers in jail and execute their pastors, will get justice at the hands of God. Many of our fellow believers look forward to the day when <em>they</em> will get justice from God, because in this present life injustice has often been their lot.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">In just a little while, the wicked will be no more;<br />
though you look carefully at his place, he will not be there.<br />
But the meek shall inherit the land<br />
and delight themselves in abundant peace.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>This points me forward in several ways. First, it reminds me that this is an area in which I need to be sanctified. Contrary to everything the surrounding world says, a lack of judgment on the part of God would be grotesquely unrighteous. We can see this clearly in the most egregious cases: none of us think it would be right for Charles Manson or Stalin to get off without punishment. But God’s justice is deeper than ours, and truer, and that is <em>good</em>. Lord willing, I will come to understand more and more the goodness of his doing justice and righteousness on the earth, not least as I understand that his <em>shalom</em> will not come—could not come—apart from his doing justice. And his doing justice means crushing evil.</p>
<p>Second, it reminds me (again) that we Westerners, much though we have to offer to our brothers and sisters around the world, also have much to learn from them. The persecuted church is not so easily led astray in this area as we in our comfort are. Likewise, we have much to learn from those who have gone before us. Whatever their faults, many of our forebears in the faith got <em>this</em> right where we get it wrong. We would do well to listen more humbly to our fellow saints of every age and every tribe—and not to arrogate to ourselves the right to judge God’s justice.</p>
<p>Third, it reminds me to pray for God to work his justice in the world: to deliver suffering saints in lands hostile to the gospel, and to end the oppression of the wicked either by saving them from their sins or by ruining them. This is not a comfortable prayer, but it is a good and right prayer. It reminds me, too, to pray all the more fervently: “Lord, come soon!”</p>
Big Enough for Mystery2014-02-05T22:00:00-05:002014-02-05T22:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-05:/2014/big-enough-for-mystery.htmlSolomon's conclusion in Ecclesiastes 5—like the conclusion to which he eventually comes in the end of the book—is simpler than we might expect, given the travails of his heart.<p>Ecclesiastes is challenging book, to be sure. Like the rest of the Scriptures, though, it does yield its treasures as we seek the face of God there. Remembering that Scripture is the self-revelation of one who wants to be known helps us situate the hard passages and find their meaning. We are not left wandering in the dark; we can see God here. This is no less true of the pages of Zechariah than of the letters of Paul. The latter, it is true, may be more direct and explicit—but the fact that Ecclesiastes gets at the character of God sideways, as it were, tells us something about God. It tells us that not everything about him can be learned from looking straight on, from direct propositions.</p>
<p>Sometimes it is only in travail, in the “dark night of the soul” that we learn who our Maker really is. Sometimes it is only in poetry. Sometimes it is when the pursuit of wisdom turns to folly that we learn that wisdom is not some reified artifact to be apprehended, but a living person who is always Other and Above—Holy.</p>
<p>Solomon went running after every kind of good in this world and for answers to all his questions. The more he searched, the more he gained, the more lost he was and the more he lost. The problem was not seeking the goods of this world, nor in seeking answers to questions. It was partly in seeking them where they could never be found, and partly in failing to be silent before the face of God who has not chosen to answer every question, and partly in succumbing to the notion that the depths of reality can be plumbed. Some things are forever out of our grasp; some knowledge is always too high for us.</p>
<p>That does not mean we ought not seek after wisdom. It means we ought to seek Wisdom himself, to go after the one who has become to us wisdom from God along with righteousness and peace. It means we ought to revel in what can be known, and revel too where God says, “This is mystery. Trust me.” The world is big enough for mystery. Humans, too, are big enough for mystery. Too often we shrink ourselves down, shrink down the world around us, shrink down God himself, so that we may all fit in conveniently sized packages with regular shapes. But God is always bursting out of our bounds, surprising us with his fierce love and his sharply tender grace.</p>
<p>Solomon’s conclusion in chapter 5—like the conclusion to which he eventually comes in the end of the book—is simpler than we might expect, given the travails of his heart.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Behold, what I have seen to be good and fitting is to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all the toil with which one toils under the sun the few days of his life that God has given him, for this is his lot. Everyone also to whom God has given wealth and possessions and power to enjoy them, and to accept his lot and rejoice in his toil—this is the gift of God. For he will not much remember the days of his life because God keeps him occupied with joy in his heart. (Ecclesiastes 5:18–20)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Small things, these: to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all our toil. Or perhaps not so small, when we look at them again. For Solomon has already told us that these are vanity when not given and received as gifts from God. They will not satisfy. They are just wind and emptiness. But then God fills them up, and they are suddenly good. God brings joy in these simple things. Is this not what all of us desire? Is it not what Solomon chased and failed to find (the confession of the preceding and following chapters of the book)? Is it not the original promise of the world: to work it and enjoy the fruit of one’s labor as a gift from God’s hand? No, these are not small things. They are very great. And they come from God, with joy. Hallelujah.</p>
The Mother of God2014-02-04T08:30:00-05:002014-02-04T08:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-04:/2014/the-mother-of-god.htmlIs it right to call Mary the Mother of God? The historic, orthodox answer is a resounding “yes”—though a clearly qualified and well articulated “yes.”<p>Is it right to call Mary the Mother of God? The historic, orthodox answer is a resounding “yes”—though a clearly qualified and well articulated “yes.” This is not just the historic, orthodox position; it is the <em>right</em> position. Mary was indeed the “mother of God”. She was the mother of Jesus. Jesus was (and is) fully God <em>and</em> fully man, completely and truly, both at once without loss of the full measure of either. He did not cease being totally divine upon his incarnation, but he did assume full humanity. The argument is as simple as it first seems: Mary is the mother of Jesus, and Jesus is God, therefore Mary is the mother of God.</p>
<p>Evangelicals tend to shy away from following the broader tradition and affirming that Mary is the mother of God. There are many reasons for this, not least our general discomfort with things having to do with Mary born of the over- referencing of Mary in the Catholic tradition and the actual Mariolatry that is too often evinced in Catholic lay practice throughout the world. However, our response ought not be to reject this view, but to speak carefully and clearly and reject what is mistaken while keeping what is true.</p>
<p>It is true that we must be nuanced in our handling of this issue. The word “mother” brings with it implications that we must avoid, and we must remember Jesus’ statements on what it meant to be his mother and brothers and sisters in the gospels (i.e. that those who followed him were those really deserving of the titles). However, simply to set aside the title is to lose important aspects of the reality of the incarnation. If we say that Mary was <em>not</em> the mother of God, we are really saying either that she was not truly the mother of Jesus, or that Jesus was not fully God. Neither of these is a tolerable option.</p>
<p>Now, to those qualifications. When we say that Mary is the mother of God, we are not saying that God in any sense has his source in her. All of the humanity of Jesus finds its source equally in Mary and in the Spirit’s divine intervention —but Mary was created by the Son, rather than the Son originating in her. Mary is the mother of God in Christ, but she is not to the Son exactly as ordinary mothers are to ordinary sons, for Jesus was not an ordinary son.</p>
<p>Nor do we mean that Mary has special prerogatives because of her relationship to Jesus. As noted above, Jesus made clear that he was concerned above all with obedience to the will of God (see e.g. Matthew 12:46–50). Thus, the devotions offered to Mary by our Catholic and Eastern Orthodox brothers and sisters is misplaced, as is the notion that her prayers are somehow more effective in touching Jesus’ heart than are those of the ordinary saint who is seeking to honor God.</p>
<p>These qualifications notwithstanding, we must still be willing and ready to affirm that Mary was in fact the Mother of God. To do otherwise is to reduce in one way or another the mystery of the incarnation. It is not so much that <em>Mary</em> is important here as that affirming her motherhood of God helps us affirm the important points to which we must hold fast in terms the full deity and full humanity of <em>Christ</em>. Mary is important because Jesus humanity came by means of Mary’s body. Everything that it is to be man, Jesus always was from conception, and everything that it is to be God, Jesus always was from the moment of his conception.</p>
Resolved to Pray2014-02-04T07:40:00-05:002014-02-04T07:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-04:/2014/resolved-to-pray.htmlPaul's prayerful openings to letters are a good reminder that I ought to pray more and of how I ought to pray.<p>Paul’s letters all open with a common pattern: he gives the typical introduction of his era with his own name and those of his co-authors, and then proceeds to explain how he prays for the people to whom he is writing. I read once of someone who went through and looked at all the things Paul prays for people in his epistles and used those as a basis for his own prayers for others. That seems a remarkably good idea to me. Paul’s heart for each and every church to which he ministered is readily apparent.</p>
<p>I hope and pray that as I step more and more into ministry, my own heart would be so dedicated to the good of those whom I serve, and that I would be so faithful as Paul was to pray regularly for them. I have a long way to go in this; I do not pray as much even for my own family and friends as I would like. Jaimie and I have made prayer a regular part of our lives by sitting down as a family together to pray every night before we put Elayne to bed, and I pray at times throughout the day. These are good things. I am glad we have taken these steps to make prayer a regular part of our lives. Even so, I am much less dedicated and disciplined in prayer than many I know and especially than the many heroes of the faith who distinguished themselves in large part through the faithfulness of their prayers and their trust that God would answer.</p>
<p>The content of Paul’s prayers is just as important as their frequency, though. Reading 1 Thessalonians 1 reminded me of the <em>kinds</em> of things I ought to be praying, as well as <em>that</em> I ought to be praying. In this particular introduction, Paul is above all grateful to God for the Thessalonians’ “work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.” This faithfulness before God resounded throughout the early church; these believers had a reputation for their perseverance in the face of persecution and their love of God. What a thing to start praying for the believers I know, and especially for my church and the missionaries we have sent out: that we would be known for our faith, love, and steadfast hope in Jesus Christ; that we would persevere in the face of challenges to our faith and even outright persecution; that the testimony of our deeds would go forth and be an encouragement to the rest of the Church.</p>
<p>Resolved, then: to pray more faithfully for my fellow saints, first of all at First Baptist Church of Durham and then in the other churches I know and love and then throughout the world as I hear of them; and to pray more thoughtfully and wisely for God to make of us all the kinds of people over whom Paul was rejoicing in these early verses of this letter. Amen.</p>
The Horror of Sin2014-02-03T22:00:00-05:002014-02-03T22:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-03:/2014/the-horror-of-sin.htmlMatthew 26:3--7 contains one of the most horrifying illustrations of human depravity anywhere in the Bible. It is such a simple passage, but the human wickedness on display is profound.<p>Matthew 26:3–7 contains one of the most horrifying illustrations of human depravity anywhere in the Bible. It is such a simple passage, but the human wickedness on display is profound. The scene is this: Jesus has already been condemned by the Jews. Judas—expecting <em>some</em> other outcome than Jesus’ death, or simply turned back from the plan to which he had previously agreed—comes, seeking to make right what he had done wrong. The priests respond by rejecting him, and he throws the money down on the floor before he goes and hangs himself.</p>
<p>The priests then note that it would be <em>wrong</em> to put the money in the temple treasury, since it was after all blood money. Here these men were, having just plotted the death of a man they knew to be innocent, a man they could condemn only on trumped up charges after a farce of a trail, worried about whether they should put a few pieces of silver in the treasury or not. Their conclusion, that the money could not be used for the temple because it was “blood money”, still did not make them realize the horror of their sin—that they had bought a man’s life! That they should do this with <em>any</em> man is a horror; that they would do it with their long-awaited Messiah, the incarnate Son of God, is a horror beyond words. That they could not see the disjunction between their scruples about where the money was used and the very reason they had the money should put the fear of sin in us all.</p>
<p>This is human depravity. We can look our sin square in the face and not see it for what it is sometimes. We become inured to its power and its hold on us. We think we can just deal with it in some way or another—and we are profoundly wrong. We cannot deal with our sin apart from the saving work of Chris ton our behalf. We cannot even see it clearly without the illuminating power of the Holy Spirit. No divine intervention means no holiness on our part; without the work of God we would remain forever trapped in the darkness that shrouds our eyes from seeing our sin aright and from seeing our great and awesome God as he is.</p>
<p>Yet this is also the hand of God at work. So often God takes what men meant for evil and works it for good. Often we cannot see his means <em>or</em> his ends, but we know from the gospels that the greatest evil ever perpetrated by men—the only innocent man dead at the hands of hardenered human hearts—was used of God to accomplish the greatest good ever provided to men. This lets us trust that God is likewise at work in our own lives. We know that he is all-wise and all-good. We do not know what he aims to accomplish with every act (nor indeed with many of his acts), but we know that those aims will be for the good of all those who love him and (most importantly) are loved by him.</p>
<p>Hallelujah.</p>
Vanity! Vanity!2014-02-02T22:15:00-05:002014-02-02T22:15:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-02:/2014/vanity-vanity.htmlEcclesiastes is one of the most interpretively challenging books in the whole Bible—but there is real wisdom to be found in reading it with the rest of the canon.<p>Ecclesiastes is one of the most interpretively challenging books in the whole Bible. <a href="/2014/ordinary-means-the-silence-of-god/">Like Esther</a>, its inclusion in the canon was much debated. Unlike Esther, the book mentions God plenty—but its approach to theology is challenging, to say the least. The author, generally understood to be Solomon, is not exactly a cheerful fellow and is his approach to life can be summed up in the single word that is the refrain of the whole book: “Vanity!”</p>
<p>Chapter 2 gives us this bleak outlook applied to pleasure and possessions on the one hand and vocation on the other. In both cases, the Preacher (Heb. <em>qoheleth</em>) comes to the same conclusion: “Then I considered all tha tmy hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 2:11). This is so bleak as to border on despair, and therefore no few Christians of my acquaintance find the book difficult to integrate with their theology.</p>
<p>The problem, as near as I can tell, is one of genre.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Ecclesiastes is wisdom literature, and it serves as an extended meditation on the world that Solomon found around him. And taken without the context of redemptive history, Solomon’s proclamation that everything is vanity is perfectly accurate. Life is a grind. We cannot keep the things we earn or buy, no matter how magnificent. If we are perfectly wise in our dealings, we will nonetheless die and leave everything we have to others, and who knows whether they will be geniuses, mediocrities, or idiots? We can have a thousand pleasures at our command, and we will find them all unsatisfactory in the end. We can work hard, and have nothing to show for it when we return to dust.</p>
<p>But all these things are observations of the world as it is—not statements on what it ought to be. It is easy to mistake description for prescription. The Preacher never suggests that life in this world <em>should</em> be mere vanity. To the contrary: the very fact that he was asking the questions he asked is indicative of the real shape of reality. We all ask the same questions with him at some point or another: Does my work matter? Would I be satisfied if I had every material thing I could desire? Would having (functionally) infinite sexual choice<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> bring me contentment? Solomon discovered the answer: no.</p>
<p>And there we leave it, for chapter 2. But my other reading tonight was in Matthew and in Psalms, and they do <em>not</em> leave it there. Psalm 33 points us to the ways that Yahweh works justice in the world and calls us to rejoice in him, not in the things of this age. Matthew 22–25 reminds us that the kingdom of heaven is <em>coming</em>; it is not here yet. The age to come will be so <em>very</em> much better than this one. No more will our existence be nothing but vanity. Hallelujah.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I am looking forward to seeing this covered in my Old Testament II class this semester, as I suspect that the coverage there will prove illuminating. It certainly was helpful for my grasp of Job!—but more on that another time.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Think about the fact that Solomon is reported to have had some 1,000 wives and concubines (see 1 Kings 11:3). This may not be infinite in the strictest sense of the word… but it is close enough.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Infant Guilt—Purest Speculation2014-02-01T08:30:00-05:002014-02-01T08:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-02-01:/2014/infant-guilt-purest-speculation.html<p>Whether people are born guilty of sin, or simply inherit a nature so predisposed to sin that the actual act is inevitable has been a much debated topic for generations. In my view, however, the question is impossible to answer. I do not think Scripture speaks with sufficient clarity on …</p><p>Whether people are born guilty of sin, or simply inherit a nature so predisposed to sin that the actual act is inevitable has been a much debated topic for generations. In my view, however, the question is impossible to answer. I do not think Scripture speaks with sufficient clarity on the matter. We know on the one hand that all are “by nature children of wrath” (Ephesians 2:3), and that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). What neither of these texts tell us, though, and what indeed <em>no</em> text tells us, is whether people are guilty at birth or whether they are simply sinful and become guilty.</p>
<p>We could reason to a conclusion that accords with our other theological commitments with little difficulty. We know that God is just, and punishes for the wrongs we commit, but we have no evidence that he punishes wrongs we <em>might</em> commit, and therefore we might conclude that he would therefore not find guilty any newly conceived or newly born person. On the other hand, we also must reckon with the reality that the Scriptures treat questions of progeny far differently than do individually-minded modern Westerners.</p>
<p>Scripture points us to the God who “will by no means clear the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children’s children, to the third and the fourth generation” (Exodus 34:7) as well as the God who proclaims that “The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son” (Ezekiel 18:20). Paul did write that “one trespass led to condemnation for all men,” but he immediately follows up this provocative statement by arguing that “one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men” (Romans 5:18)—yet we know that Paul does not (and cannot) here mean that all men are saved, for we know that he believes that those who do not repent and believe the gospel perish in their sins under the expectation of judgment.</p>
<p>We cannot from the evidence that God has given us decide this question. We are left without an answer. If we grant the sufficiency of Scripture, then we must recognize that if there are questions God has in his wisdom opted not to answer, it is for a reason, and we should cease with our speculations and be silent. We may not know whether infants are <em>guilty</em>, but we do know two other things that are far more important than that: First, God is merciful and gracious and just. We will not in the final reckoning find his justice lacking or his treatment of (for example) those who died in infancy to be lacking. Second, all are born under the dual curse of sin’s hold and death’s certainty.</p>
<p>These truths give us clear and straightforward points of application. First, we must preach the gospel clearly to people of every age and intellectual ability, for even little children sin and death is awaiting us all. Whether or not we are born guilty, we <em>become</em> guilty very quickly. Second, much of the speculation on this question—and many churches practices such as infant baptism—seems to be rooted in worry about the fate of those who die young, without having made a credible profession of faith. Yet even if we <em>did</em> know the answer to the question of their guilt, we still might not know God’s response. Even did we know the answer, still we would need learn to trust in the goodness and wisdom of God in this matter.</p>
Not Simple2014-01-31T20:55:00-05:002014-01-31T20:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-31:/2014/not-simple.htmlJesus is not simple. He never was. We too often try to fit him into a neat box—but he will not be boxed in.<p>Sometimes, I hate the heading markers in my Bible. While they can be helpful for some people at some times, I find more and more that they simply distract. They make it difficult to see—or to remember—that the books are <em>books</em>. Nowhere is this more distracting than in the gospels. The gospels are coherent books. They are not mere collections of stories, arranged haphazardly or tossed together willy-nilly; the authors had a point and purpose in what they were doing, and that point and purpose is hard to see for the constant interruptions in the text. These interruptions, not present in the original, mask the way the pieces fit together—and they mask the surprising ways they do <em>not</em> obviously fit together, too.</p>
<p>Because these are the kinds of questions we should be asking as we read through the book: Why does Matthew transition from Jesus’ rather shocking encounter with his family—the one where he proclaims that his disciples are his family in a way that his biological family is not—to the death of John the Baptist? And why from there to the feeding of the five thousand? And why thence to interactions with the scribes and Pharisees? He is going somewhere with this narrative; where? What does he want us to see?</p>
<p>In John 14, Jesus leaves the crowds behinds to seek respite on hearing of the death of his cousin and fellow servant of Yahweh, John the Baptizer. But then a crowd finds him, and he has compassion on them; he goes out of his way to care for them. Then, a few hundred words later, he compares a Canaanite woman to a dog, using the racially charged language of the Jews. (This should shock the reader, given how Matthew has already had Jesus praise outsiders and proclaim that the kingdom will be composed of those who were far off as well as of those who were near.) But then he blesses her for her faith. Then Matthew follows this story with another case of his feeding a multitude because of his compassion for them. Scattered through all these narratives are his interactions with the Pharisees, whom he repeatedly criticizes in the harshest terms.</p>
<p>Why these particular stories? Why these particular contrasts?</p>
<p>I think it is because Matthew aims to confound his readers in precisely the ways the disciples (Matthew himself included) were confounded. We see that they were often confused. We see that they failed to understand who he was, and then even as they began to grasp that he was the Messiah (14:32, 16:16), they continued to misunderstand what he was about. His teachings confused them, and they had to learn over and over again the same lessons. Matthew has structured his narrative so that the reader is faced with the same kinds of confounding contrasts that the disciples faced. We, too, must wrestle with this Son of Man who both overflows with compassion on the crowds and repeatedly evinces his frustration with the faithlessness of the people. We, too, must come to terms with a king who planned from the first to die rather than than to conquer. We, too, must read the riddles rightly—and marvel though we do at the disciples who did not understand his parables, if we are honest we must admit how we struggle to interpret them ourselves.</p>
<p>Jesus is not simple. He never was. We too often try to fit him into a neat box: the social revolutionary, or the compassionate healer, or the righteous firebrand, or the gentle savior. Take your pick, according to your social and political preferences. But he will not be so boxed in. He is all of these and more, and he is none of these insofar as none of them circumscribe him. He is righteousness and justice and peace<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a>—which means that he thunders forth judgment, and he tenderly comforts those in need. It means that he offers sharp edges and delighted praise to the same people. It means that he marveled at the faith and the faithlessness of people whose hearts he knew before they spoke. It means that he is a mystery even as he reveals himself plainly. It means that he cannot be comprehended, but invites us to know him.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>A trio I borrowed from J. Clinton McCann Jr.’s description of Yahweh’s “anointed one” (that is, “messiah”) in the Psalms. See Chapter 12: Hearing the Psalter in <cite>Hearing the Old Testament</cite>, eds. Craig G. Bartholomew & David J. H. Beldman.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Basic Human Folly2014-01-30T08:15:00-05:002014-01-30T08:15:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-30:/2014/basic-human-folly.htmlPsalm 30 stands as one of the most evocative pictures of our human propensity for self-congratulatory folly in all of Scripture.<p>Psalm 30 stands as one of the most evocative pictures of our human propensity for self-congratulatory folly in all of Scripture. It is a splendid poetic demonstration of an arc we have all traced out. David opens the Psalm by telling us where he is going. The first two stanzas declare that Yahweh saves and enjoins his saints to praise him, “For his anger is but for a moemnt, / and his favor is for a lifetime. / Weeping may tarry for the night, / but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5).</p>
<p>Then David tells us how he got there. I cannot do better in summing up the third stanza than simply quoting it:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">As for me, I said in my prosperity,<br />
“I shall never be moved.”<br />
By your favor, O <span class="smcp">Lord</span>,<br />
you made my mountain stand strong;<br />
you hid your face;<br />
I was dismayed.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>This is one of the most basic human follies. As God cares for us and provides for us, we take credit for it ourselves. But it was <em>Yahweh</em> who made David’s “mountain stand strong”—not David. The moment Yahweh took away his presence, David was in ruin. How often do we all fall prey to exactly this sort of nonsense? How often do I trust in my own capabilities or my own wisdom, and credit my own hard work and talents for where I stand in life? Certainly, I am too clever to do so openly, even to myself: I know that I should not be resting on my own merits. But deep down, we all make that dreadful move sometimes.</p>
<p>The other significant point of interest in this third stanza is what it was that dismayed David. He does not emphasize here whatever external consequences he may have experienced in his pride (though the next stanza suggests that there were some). Rather, he points to the Yahweh’s withdrawal of his presence: “you hid your face” (Psalm 30:7b) as the basis for his dismay. Would that I were so sensitive to God that I recognized his presence as far more important than any other situational reality. We are offered the privilege of fellowship with the divine, and so often we—so often <em>I</em>—turn away from it for other, lesser things. So often, we are more frustrated by the difficulties of our trials than we are by a lack of relationship with our heavenly Father. David has the right of it, though.</p>
<p>There is much that could be said of the fourth stanza on questions of theological development, Old Testament understandings of death, and so on. More interesting to me—in a devotional context, at least!—is the point of the stanza: a simple plea for help from Yahweh. Again, David’s response is a model for us. When faced with the removal of God’s presence and the looming consequences, he prayed for salvation. The result, coming in the fifth and final stanza, is the restoration of David’s state. Yahweh moved him from the ritual death of lament (“mourning” and “sackloth”) to ritual life (“dancing” and “gladness”).<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Importantly, David does not make again the mistake that took him down this road in the first place. He recognizes that Yahweh had restored him for a reason:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">that my glory may sing your praise and be not silent,<br />
O <span class="smcp">Lord</span> my God, I will give thanks to you forever!</div>
</blockquote>
<p>His “glory”—his mountain standing strong—was not for his own pleasure, but for the honor of the one who made him stand strong.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>This insight courtesy of Dr. Heath Thomas, who has pointed out similar motifs in Job. Matters of ritual state are important in all cultures, but were much more explicit in the Ancient Near East than they are in modern western societies. More on this some other time.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
You Must Be Perfect2014-01-29T08:14:00-05:002014-01-29T08:14:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-29:/2014/you-must-be-perfect.htmlThe Sermon on the Mount both tells us of our need for Christ because we cannot be perfect, and requires us to genuinely pursue perfection to honor our Savior.<p>It is common right now in some circles of evangelicalism to so emphasize the dialectic of law and gospel that every moral exhortation or command in the Bible is turned into mere evidence of our inability and God’s grace toward us. This is a tragedy.</p>
<p>As I was reading through Matthew 5–9 this morning, I was struck again by the force of Jesus’ moral teaching here. He takes major categories of sin and intensifies the Old Testament’s teaching on it: murder, adultery, penury, and self-righteousness all come in for his condemnation here. Now, it is true that the standard he sets is perfection: “You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect,” he says (Matthew 5:48, ESV). To be sure, none of us can measure up to this standard. In one sense, then, those who point out that this teaching shows us our need for Christ’s salvation are absolutely right.</p>
<p>However, there is more going on here than merely highlighting our need for Christ. There is a picture of kingdom ethics that we are too quick to step over. “Ah,” we say, “I can never be perfect, but thank God for covering my imperfections!” and we move along through our lives. This is <em>not</em> what the text requires of us; it is not what God requires of us. The resurrection of Christ was like the first crack in a piece of glass, and our participation in his resurrection is like the spidering of that crack out until the whole glass is shattered completely. The old world has not yet passed away, but the new one is pushing its way through the cracks, visible more and more in our lives as we pursue holy Christlikeness.</p>
<p>At least, that is how it ought to be. But this in-breaking of the new age is hard work, and it is far easier to empty the Sermon on the Mount of its binding force on our lives. It is easier to look at the moral instruction of Scripture and see only one use of the Law: condemning sinners where they stand so they will look to Christ. Yet the Law does more than this. It also teaches us what God is like, and what his people ought to be like. So when Jesus says to us that we must put aside our anger at our brothers and sisters, that we must do whatever it takes to deal with lust, that we must not retaliate but instead go above and beyond in serving those who do us harm, we must <em>obey</em>. When he tells us how to pray, how to fast, how to give to the needy (and, for that matter, that we <em>are</em> to give generously to the needy), we must <em>obey</em>.</p>
<p>Jesus said both:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:20)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>and</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 7:21)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The Sermon on the Mount both tells us of our need for Christ because we cannot be perfect, and requires us to genuinely pursue perfection to honor our Savior.</p>
The New Testament Needs the Old (and So Do You)2014-01-28T22:10:00-05:002014-01-28T22:10:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-28:/2014/the-new-testament-needs-the-old-and-so-do-you.htmlIt is difficult if not impossible to understand Matthew's gospel apart from its Old Testament background—but then, it is hard to understand any of the New Testament without the Old as background.<p>Having just finished reading through the Chronicles, it is readily apparent how Matthew self-consciously situated himself against the backdrop of the Old Testament as he began composing his gospel. Just as the Old Testament carefully preserved the lineages of the people—most notably in Numbers and Chronicles— so Matthew carefully laid out the descent of Christ, showing that his (adoptive) father’s line ran true back through David.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> If, as some scholars of the canon have speculated, Matthew’s Old Testament canon concluded with Chronicles,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> this beginning seems especially fitting, but in any case Matthew was clearly interested in establishing continuity between his work and the Hebrew Bible.</p>
<p>We pick up this same thread in his constant use of the word “fulfill.” The way Matthew uses the word has been much discussed among scholars, since many of the passages he quotes are clearly <em>not</em> talking about the Messiah in particular. While some see this as evidence of either Matthew’s exegetical failure or the validity of purely allegorical readings, I think<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> the solution is simpler. Matthew is using the word in a <em>simpler</em> fashion. He means not “fulfill” in the sense in which we use the word of formal prophecies, but “fill up”. The Greek word <em>pleróō</em> (πληρόω) covers both.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a> When Matthew says that some event “fulfills” something from the Old Testament, he is not arguing that the Old Testament bit he references was originally written about Jesus, but rather that Jesus takes that original thing and fills it up with <em>more</em> meaning than it originally had.</p>
<p>The combination of these two things, in any case, is to point us to the Jewishness and the Old Testament background against which Jesus did his entire ministry, and in which the church was born. Last semester and this semester, I have been taking survey classes of the Old Testament, and I find them extremely valuable. The Old Testament is underpreached in most churches, because (I think) it is undervalued in most churches. Whether because of a simplistic and misguided notion that the Old Testament has only law and the New Testament only grace, or because the texts are harder to read for propositionally oriented Westerners,<a href="#fn5" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref5" role="doc-noteref"><sup>5</sup></a> or simply because of unfamiliarity on the part of many pastors, we skip over the Old Testament. We might draw on it for moral statements from time to time, or to give some extra explanation for the atonement—but when was the last time you heard someone preach through Isaiah, or Malachi, or 2 Chronicles?</p>
<p>This is a catastrophic loss to th echurch. Paul wrote that <em>all</em> Scripture was breathed out by God and is profitable for us—and the only canon he had at the time was the Old Testament; he and his fellow apostles were still in the process of composing the pieces that became the New Testament! The early church’s Bible, the texts from which they read, sang, and preached week in and week out, were those of the Old Testament. They read the Psalms together, learned from the Proverbs, chewed on Job, sought to imitate the saints of old, and above all looked for the many ways their Messiah had been proclaimed and prefigured in the pages of their book. They found there ample instruction in walking with God and worshipping their risen Lord. Matthew found there the ground of his entire gospel. Perhaps we would do well to do better in our love of the Old Testament, too.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>There is much argument about the differing genealogies in Luke and Matthew. This is an interesting discussion… for something besides a devotional post. Contrary to many a scholar, evangelical and dissenting alike, the so- called synoptic problem comes <em>after</em> dealing with each book on its own terms.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>All the same books would have been present, just in a different order.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>Following an article by G. K. Beale from several decades ago, a link to which I do not have at hand at the moment and which would undoubtedly bore the vast majority of you to stupor in any case.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>There is an important issue here for issues of translation, and especially for the idea of “word studies”: namely, that they’re basically unhelpful. Words in different languages have different ranges of meanings. We can see this at the most basic level in the Spanish word “mesa”, which partly overlaps with the English word “table”, but extends to include things (like bluffs) which the English word does not include. This happens all the time, and accordingly just looking up all the places where a particular Greek word is used can often produce more heat than light—it will make you think that authors mean the same thing in places where the context demands that they do not. I really, really recommend that you avoid word studies for this reason.<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn5" role="doc-endnote"><p>A factor undergoing rapid change in many parts of the West, as story becomes central again in large parts of the population.<a href="#fnref5" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Ordinary Means: The Silence of God2014-01-27T08:05:00-05:002014-01-27T08:05:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-27:/2014/ordinary-means-the-silence-of-god.htmlGod's silence does not imply his absence; nor does the ordinary nature of our lives imply his uninvolvement. Quite the contrary: most of the time, in most people's lives, in most places, God works by ordinary rather than extraordinary means.
<p>Esther is one of the most unusual books in the Old Testament—so much so that it was one of several books that almost did not end up in the canon. As has often been noted, it includes no mention of God, nor even a reference to prayer. The closest one comes to typical Jewish religious observance is the practice of fasting under dire circumstances and the tearing of clothes and donning sackloth and ashes in their place. But these were hardly unique to the worship of Yahweh; they were common practice throughout the Ancient Near East. Moreover, the book endorsed the practice of a feast beyond those listed in the Mosaic law: a questionable practice at <em>best</em> from the perspective of many observant Jews.</p>
<p>Yet here it is, in most Jewish and all Christian canons.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Again: as many commentators have noticed, Yahweh may not be mentioned by name, but his handiwork is evident throughout the book. He is not mentioned, but he is still present. His sovereignty is clear even in the absence of a prophetic declaration of his intent or activity. Indeed, for this reason I think that the book is also one of the most important books for understanding how God’s actions in ordinary life play out.</p>
<p>The Scriptures are filled with records of God’s speech to his people, and of his miraculous intervention in their lives. From this, it can be easy to draw the notion that this is the normal and ordinary course of affairs. In other words, we might after reading through the histories of Israel conclude that we should expect God to be sending prophetic messages and miracles our way on a regular basis. Indeed, large parts of the charismatic movement today are built around that very expectation. When life remains ordinary, we are inevitably disappointed. When we do not hear distinct, prophetic messages from God, we inevitably go looking for substitutes, whether in the pronouncements of famous Christians or our own “inner sense” of the Spirit’s actions—neither of which are reliable guides, as I have <a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/will-of-god/">argued before</a>.</p>
<p>On the one hand, it is helpful to remember the circumstances under which those prophets spoke and those miracles happened. Always, they were associated with specific events in the redemptive history of the nation. Though they occasionally impinged on the life of ordinary people (like the family with whom Elisha repeatedly interacted, from miraculously overflowing oil to the resurrection of a dead child), for the most part they involved the spiritual and political leadership of the people of God. All this is true—but true <em>statements</em> do not always communicate in the same way as do true <em>stories</em>.</p>
<p>It is this gap that Esther fills.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> Here we have a story of God’s saving his people with no divine speech, and no obvious miraculous intervention. In their place are ordinary people doing as best they can with the wisdom they have in the (dreadful) circumstances they face. Here was a moment in redemptive history, no less, with the fate of thousands of men and women hanging in the balance… where all the sorts of things we sometimes erroneously expect for the not-so- significant moments in our own lives were simply absent.</p>
<p>It is not that God was absent; we see from the outcomes that his concern for his people remained (he saved them) and his judgment on their enemies remained (he destroyed them). We even see that “many from the peoples of the country declared themselves Jews, for the fear of the Jews had fallen on them” (Esther 8:17b, ESV)—not exactly a typical event in Jewish history, but certainly part of the end for which Yahweh had set them among the nations! Yet in all this, God remains behind the scenes. So it most often is in our own lives. God’s silence does not imply his absence; nor does the ordinary nature of our lives imply his uninvolvement. Quite the contrary: most of the time, in most people’s lives, in most places, God works by ordinary rather than extraordinary means. We get up, go about our day, honoring him as best we may in our various vocations, and he works <em>all</em> things to the praise of his glory and the good of those who love him.</p>
<p>Thank God for Esther and Mordecai.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>The existence of various canons is less troubling than many critics would suggest—not least because the core of all these canons is the same, and the extra material in them rarely leads to significant doctrinal variations. This is not to say that the distinctions are entirely unimportant, but rather to say that it is less an issue for the reliability and authority of Scripture than many naysayers would have you believe. More on this… some other day.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Not to say that this is the <em>only</em> thing Esther is doing, but that it is <em>one</em> of the significant things the book does.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Nehemiah's Exhortation2014-01-25T22:30:00-05:002014-01-25T22:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-25:/2014/nehemiahs-exhortation.htmlSome thoughts on the way Nehemiah exhorted the people to follow God, and on expositional preaching.<p>This week, I did most of my devotional reading early in the morning. Though I have gone back and forth on the time of day in which I am best able to spend time reading the Scriptures and praying, in <em>this</em> season of life it is undeniably mornings. Our evenings are quite varied, for one thing. For another, these days I am for more awake at 6:15 in the morning than I am at 9:15 (or, as now, 10:15) at night. Thus, devotedly doing my devotions means doing them in the morning for the most part, lest I have a hard time keeping my eyes open.</p>
<p>Tonight’s readings in Nehemiah covered passages with which I am quite familiar, having looked at them many times. A few of them are proof texts for certain views of preaching—in particular, the way thtat the Levites gave the meaning of the text so that the people could understand it is often used to buttress support for expositional preaching. This, however, is a thoroughly ironic move hermeneutically speaking. The passage is actually indicating that the Levites were basically <em>translating</em>, not offering explanatory commentary. Thus, it is a failure of exposition to derive proof for expository preaching from the text.</p>
<p>Of at least equal interest to me has always been the way Nehemiah responded to the people’s repentant reaction to hearing the Law of God proclaimed by Ezra. Nehemiah encouraged the people not to focus on the sorrow of what they had done, but on the joy of who their God was and what he had done on their behealf. The same exhortation, it seems to me, is one that we should think about more often. To be sure, it is good to be reminded of our sin and our failings. It is even better, however, for us to turn from looking at ourselves and to look at the Messiah who has saved us <em>from</em> those sins and failings. Too easily do many of us fixate on the magnitude of our sin—either thinking it too big for God to really deal with, or too small for God to concern himself with, but in any case focusing on the sin—instead of on the one who has conquered sin once and for all.</p>
<p>May we instead learn, like Nehemiah exhorted the people, to <em>rejoice</em> at what God has done on our behalf, and to celebrate the ways in which he has worked salvation in the midst of and through our sorrows and our foibles.</p>
What Was Their Sin?2014-01-25T08:00:00-05:002014-01-25T08:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-25:/2014/what-was-their-sin.html<p>As Christians, we all recognize that Adam and Eve’s first sin in the garden of Eden prompted the catastropic Fall of all humanity, and that their eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was the <em>act</em> of sin that produced such horrific …</p><p>As Christians, we all recognize that Adam and Eve’s first sin in the garden of Eden prompted the catastropic Fall of all humanity, and that their eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was the <em>act</em> of sin that produced such horrific results in human history. What is perhaps less clear is why that particular act was sinful. Was it disobedience? gaining knowledge? pride? idolatry? The most straightforward reading of Genesis 3 makes it clear that the act was sinful at the most basic level because it was disobedience, a direct rejection of the stated will of God. God tells Adam that the consequences he receives are because he ate of the tree from which he was commanded not to eat (3:17).</p>
<p>Perhaps the more interesting question, then, is why disobedience to God is a sin. As Christians, we acknowledge that the Bible teaches us this truth. Digging deeper is helpful in understanding many things about God and the nature of both humanity and the shape of the world we inhabit. To describe why disobedience is sinful, though, requires that we first define what sin <em>is</em>. Sin is, at the most basic level, failure—missing the mark, as the Greek word would have it. The next question, then, is: <em>Failure at what?</em></p>
<p>Sin is failure to be what humans were (and still are) meant to be—a mystery of ages, to which we have the answer. Genesis tells us exactly who we humans are. We are made in the image of God. We are to be small icons of divine glory. The divinity we are meant to recapitulate in miniature exists in perfect harmony, is completely wise and wholly good, and exercises utter sovereignty. Women and men are meant likewise to exist in true harmony, to be wise in right measure and truly good, and to exercise sovereignty in our appointed spheres. This is what it <em>is</em> to be human: to do as God does in the ways he appoints in the world he made.</p>
<p>Thus, to <em>fail</em> at that task is no small thing. It is to fail in the most significant way possible. Worse still, to fail as Adam and Eve did (and as we all have ever since) can only happen in a conscious act. Yes, our natures are now so corrupted that we all sin incidentally, too. But we all of us sin on purpose. Our first father and mother did not fail accidentally. They willfully rejected the very reason for their existence and spat in the face of the author of that existence. (Here is the source of the human struggle for existential meaning and the dread of meaningless that plagues us.) They rejected both the shape of reality and the one who made reality. They rebelled. They became traitors against the universe’s God.</p>
<p>Their sin, then, was not only disobedience. There are times when disobedience might be right: one <em>should</em> reject unjust commands. This, however, was not such a command. Their act of disobedience included both mistrust of most trustworthy God and self-exaltation over and against the only exalted God. God does not only demand our allegiance, he <em>deserves</em> it. He requires our worship not because he is vain, but because to worship anything else, however lovely, is to do injury to the object of that worship, to ourselves, and to the Triune Godhead. Adam and Eve’s eating of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good represented precisely that offense. They rejected God’s sovereignty, his wisdom and goodness, and even fellowship with him. They rejected their own sphere of sovereignty, chose quick knowledge over wisdom, deceit over goodness, and treachery over communion.</p>
From Creation to Consummation2014-01-24T22:05:00-05:002014-01-24T22:05:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-24:/2014/from-creation-to-consummation.htmlThe structure of Psalm 24 is not obvious—but the journey is profoundly rewarding. David beautifully leads us from creation to consummation.<p>Some texts are a bit more mysterious than they might at first appear. One such is Psalm 24, at least for me. The poem has three basic sections:</p>
<ul>
<li>a declaration of Yahweh’s possession of and sovereignty over the world he made (vv. 1–2)</li>
<li>a reflection on the character of one who may approach Yahweh (vv. 3–6)</li>
<li>a call to and an act of exultation in the glory of Yahweh (vv. 7–10)</li>
</ul>
<p>At first glance, there is no obvious connection between these three elements. The third might seem to follow from the first to some extent, but the emphases are all different. The first section addresses Yahweh’s rule over creation; the last enjoins gates and doors<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> to worship him on the basis that he —Yahweh of hosts—is the king of glory. The middle section, on the character of those who can approach him, seems completely disconnected from either.</p>
<p>Yet David, the author of the Psalm, was not an idiot. When we find passages like this in Scripture and cannot at first see how to put them together, it behooves us to take a step back and consider them at further length.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> David intended his poem to be understood, and not by God only. The pieces <em>do</em> relate; the question is simply <em>how</em> they fit. As is the way of all good poetry, there are holes here, and they require of the audience a bit more engagement than would a direct statement of David’s intent.</p>
<p>Sure enough, these pieces do relate. Each points us to a different aspect of Yahweh’s nature. Indeed, the outline I wrote out above is actually a good summary of David’s intent here. In verses 1–2, we see that Yahweh owns the world he made. He is both creator and ruler. He is sovereign over creation, including the men and women who live in this world. Then, in verses 3–6, we see his moral character. The requirements for anyone to approach Yahweh’s holy place tell us just as much about Yahweh as about those who seek him: he is holy, he has clean hands (meaning he has not done nothing wrong), he is pure in heart, he rejects all idolatry, and he is utterly trustowrthy. Moreover, he blesses those who are like him; he makes them righteous and saves them. Finally in verses 7– 10, we see that he is glorious, strong and mighty, a king. He is not just <em>any</em> king, but <em>the</em> King of glory. He owns glory; it is his and no other’s. He is stronger than any who would oppose him. He will triumph over his enemies. He will come into the city and take up his reign.</p>
<p>In short, the Psalm moves us from creation to consummation. Yahweh made and rules over the world. He calls his people to be holy, as he is holy, and he makes them righteous and saves them. He will come into his glory as the King. And David gets us there without ever coming out and saying those bare facts; the poem moves our hearts the more thoroughly because he makes us work for us, and because he does so with such aching beauty.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Lift up your heads, O gates!<br />
And lift them up, O ancient doors,<br />
that the King of glory may come in.<br />
Who is this King of glory?<br />
Yahweh of hosts,<br />
he is the King of glory! Selah. (Psalm 24:9–10)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Hallelujah.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Over-familiarity with the text has also perhaps dulled us to the curiosity of this exhortation. Perhaps there was something going on culturally we are missing today, but this is the only place in Scripture that anyone addresses gates and doors, to my knowledge.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Of course, that assumes we are paying enough attention to recognize that the poem is doing something unusual in the first place—and, dare I say it, we too rarely are paying heed so closely.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Foreign Wives and Real Devotion2014-01-23T07:28:00-05:002014-01-23T07:28:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-23:/2014/foreign-wives-and-real-devotion.htmlThe latter half of Ezra explains how it is that the people of Israel turned away from their pattern of idolatry—and it wasn't pretty or easy. Becoming holy rarely is.
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">My son, give me your heart,<br />
and let your eyes observe my ways.<br />
For a prostitue is a deep pit;<br />
a foreign woman is a narrow well.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 23:26–27, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p><a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a>The latter half of Ezra explains how it is that the people of Israel <a href="/2014/justice-mercy-same-stroke/">turned away</a> from their pattern of idolatry—and it wasn’t pretty or easy. After the people began building the temple again under the leadership of Haggai and Zechariah, after the favor shown to the Jews by the kings Darius and Artaxerxes, and after Ezra made his God-favored journey from Babylon to Jerusalem bearing more gifts and entrusted to teach the people the law, everything once again nearly went wrong because of an old pattern the Jews were embracing. Despite the clear instruction of the Law of Yahweh, they were intermarrying with the people around them.</p>
<p>The instruction not to intermarry was not racism, even if some abused it to that end. Those who did missed the point entirely, for Yahweh had always welcomed the outsider into his people. Indeed, the very existence of Israel was predicated on Yahweh’s choosing for himself someone who was <em>not</em> following him. Likewise, the kingly line had in it multiple outsiders (most notably Rahab and Ruth). No, the point was not the superiority of the Jews over the people around them—a notion that their history should have made clear was laughable in any case—but the protection of their <em>worship</em>. Every time that Israelites began intermarrying with the people around them, they also began following the worship practices of the people around them. They started worshipping idols, every single time.</p>
<p>Thus, the prohibition on intermarriage was not a matter of racial distinction, but of religious distinction, and Israel’s history bore out the necessity of the policy. Yet in Ezra 9, we find that once again they were slipping into the same old pattern. Ezra’s response might be startling without that history. Even apart from a pattern of this same folly, though, his response is the right one from a shepherd when God’s people disobey him. There is a lesson here for pastors and ministers: Ezra’s first response was grief and a prayer of corporate repentance. Only after offering that prayer did he move to deal with the sin.</p>
<p>The mundane<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> response Ezra made is interesting and has been much debated, given God’s stated opposition to divorce. While we might speculate about the outcomes of the decision for the women and children affected by requiring these Israelite men to put them away, we have no grounds to do so. Certainly we can say that the right thing for these men to do would have been to provide for the families they had created, even while no longer having them as spouses. As to what they actually did, though, we simply have no basis for speaking one way or another. What we can say with confidence is that Ezra’s actions here underscore the seriousness with which he took keeping the Law of God. Holiness mattered to him—and not just his own personal holiness, but the holiness of the people of God.</p>
<p>So it ought to be for us, especially those of us who seek to be teachers and leaders within the church. If we are to be the bride of Christ, we must seek to be <em>wholly</em> pure. A bride does not care only that her face and one of her dress sleeves are white; she cares that her whole appearance is radiant and beautiful when she meets her groom. So let us diligently pursue both our own holiness and that of our brothers and sisters in Christ.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I’ve chosen the Hebrew original rather than the usual translation of “adulteress”—you’ll see why momentarily.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>I have chosen “mundane” rather than “practical” because the two are not the same, and the latter would imply that Ezra’s prayer was not practical, when in fact prayer is often the most practical thing we can do.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Justice and Mercy in the Same Stroke2014-01-22T07:40:00-05:002014-01-22T07:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-22:/2014/justice-mercy-same-stroke.html<p>The first four chapters of Ezra make for an interesting contrast with all the chapters of the Chronicles that immediately precede it. Though some of the pages are taken up with similar, <a href="/2014/grappling-%20with-genealogies/">uninteresting(-at-least-to-us)</a> details of the number of people who returned from the Exile to rebuild the temple of …</p><p>The first four chapters of Ezra make for an interesting contrast with all the chapters of the Chronicles that immediately precede it. Though some of the pages are taken up with similar, <a href="/2014/grappling-%20with-genealogies/">uninteresting(-at-least-to-us)</a> details of the number of people who returned from the Exile to rebuild the temple of God under the command of Cyrus, other parts of this passage indicate the significant change that had taken place in the people of Judah and Benjamin and Levi during their sojourn far from their homes. In short: they had learned not to worship other gods. This becomes increasingly clear throughout Ezra-Nehemiah, and as one comes to the New Testament it is obvious that the lesson did indeed stick.</p>
<p>This is not to say that the Jews had no ongoing religious issues. They did, to be sure. But these issues were not the issue of idolatry, at least in the strict sense of the word. Tim Keller would likely argue that the issues they had were still matters of idolatry of a sort, and I would be inclined to agree with him; but in any case, they were no longer putting up Asherah poles or making sacrifices to Baal or Molech. There were many consequences of the Exile, including the end of the Davidic line of kings over Judah, the loss of the Ark of the Covenant, and the destruction of the First Temple. Most important of all, though, was this reality that the Jews never again engaged in large-scale worship of gods besides Yahweh. Their functional henotheism gave way at last to true monotheism.</p>
<p>It is amazing to me—and wonderful—that the result of God’s judgment was not only the punishment of the judged but also their hearts being changed. He used a dreadful consequence to bring about real, lasting change in his people. It strikes me that sometimes we see exactly this, albeit on a smaller scale, in our own lives. There are times when we run far astray, and in his <em>mercy</em> he judges us, so that we will return to him. Now, there is a final judgment beyond which there is no return, but in the interval, how great his grace! This is a double blessing to us who follow Christ: First, it reminds us that if we stray, he is faithful to send opportunity after opportunity (usually increasingly <em>painful</em> opportunity) for our repentance. Second, it gives us reason not to go astray at all, realizing that the further we run, the more difficult will be our judgment. In both, we are reminded to worship our God: who judges justly and mercifully in the same stroke.</p>
<p>*[henotheism]: the belief in and worship of a single God while accepting the existence or possible existence of other deities that may also be worshipped. (see Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henotheism)</p>
Generation by Generation2014-01-21T12:05:00-05:002014-01-21T12:05:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-21:/2014/generation-by-generation.html<p>The concluding chapters of 2 Chronicles are just as mixed a bag as all the chapters that preceded them. Over and over again, kings rise and fall; generation to generation, the fortunes of the people rise and fall with their fidelity to Yahweh. From Hezekiah’s reliance on Yahweh and …</p><p>The concluding chapters of 2 Chronicles are just as mixed a bag as all the chapters that preceded them. Over and over again, kings rise and fall; generation to generation, the fortunes of the people rise and fall with their fidelity to Yahweh. From Hezekiah’s reliance on Yahweh and God’s corresponding triumph over the armies of Sennacherib of Assyria, to the final end of the Judaic kingdom<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> in the rebellions of Jehoiakim and Jehoiachin, the same themes that dominated the rest of the book are on full display here. Reliance on Yahweh leads to salvation and deliverance. Abandoning Yahweh leads to destruction. The narrative of human history, personal and corporate, played out time and again in the public history of Israel.</p>
<p>There are many things that could be said of these chapters, but two points in particular caught my attention, both of which have been present throughout the book and so warrant some remarks here at the end.</p>
<p>First, the transition from generation to generation was rarely smooth. I do not mean merely the actual intrigues of the courts, of which there were clearly quite a few, what with multiple kings suffering assassination at the hands of their promptly-executed servants. Rather, I mean the spiritual succession. There are a few generations recorded here where multiple successive kings followed Yahweh wholeheartedly. Mostly, though, the kings bounced back and forth between fidelity and faithlessness (with no few examples of simple vacillation). Each father’s son charted his own course. As a father myself, this is simultaneously a cause for hope and reason to pray the more faithfully for my own children. I must pray for them and seek earnestly to make disciples of them because there is no guarantee that they will follow Christ simply because I do. By the same token, there is hope that they will walk with God despite my own failings and follies. No child is doomed or blessed to walk her father’s path; she makes her own choices.</p>
<p>Second is the sheer efficacy of the Scriptures. Every time that the people were confronted with the word of God, they moved to repentance. They tore down idols, repaired the temple, and engaged once again in the practices outlined by the Law for purification and sacrifices. Time and again, it was the word of God that convicted people. It is tempting to try to stir people up to love and good works by our own efforts, but nothing we do will ever be as effective as the word of God, which is the Spirit’s appointed means for sanctifying his people. For every minister in the world, and indeed for every believer in the world, this ought to be an enormous encouragement. We do not need to be people of unusual skill at public speaking, or especially effective debators. We simply need to know the word of God and lean hard on it, trusting that the Holy Spirit will use it. Yes, we should grow in our knowledge and understanding, and seek to become more skillful in the ways in which we interact with others. Ultimately, though, it is God’s words that prove effective for turning people to him. That is good news indeed.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Yes, there was a “king” in Judea later, but the domain of which Herod was a representative was not Judaic or Davidic but instituted by outsiders for their own ends.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Ending Badly2014-01-20T23:30:00-05:002014-01-20T23:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-20:/2014/ending-badly.html<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Who can say, "I have made my heart pure;<br />
I am clean from my sin"?</div>
<p>(Proverbs 20:9, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yet again, the annals of the kings of Judah point to the need for a different kind of king—one who is faithful in the long run. Joash was a boy …</p><blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Who can say, "I have made my heart pure;<br />
I am clean from my sin"?</div>
<p>(Proverbs 20:9, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Yet again, the annals of the kings of Judah point to the need for a different kind of king—one who is faithful in the long run. Joash was a boy when he became king, rescued from the threat of death at the hands of his own power-mad grandmother by a faithful priest. For the days of that priest, he remained faithful, but after his death, he fell so far that he had that priest’s son murdered for daring to “speak truth to power” in pointing out the folly of Joash’s idolatry. How far must one fall to kill the son of the man who saved your life and put you on the throne? Yet this is how idolatry works. It corrupts and twists our senses, until we call evil good and good evil.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>But when he was strong, he grew proud, to his destruction. For he was unfaithful to the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> his God and entered the temple of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> to burn incense on the altar of incense. (2 Chronicles 26:16, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Uzziah follows the same pattern laid out by so many kings of Judah before him. He started well, but finished badly. Of the many themes of the book of Chronicles, one that comes home time and again is the risk of setting out to follow God and being turned aside in the course of life. Deadliest of all the lures for these kings was always the temptation to pride and confidence in their own strength. I see this, watching successful men and women today. How often do we choose people to lead us because we recognize their godliness and character, and then see them stumble into folly as pride consumes them? Too often. The example stands as a warning to all of us, but especially to any who wish to lead. If God grants us success—especially the kind of success so prized by the world and by our flesh—we must be doubly wary against the poisonous seeds of pride that so easily take root in our hearts.</p>
<p>Perhaps most striking here is the particular way in which Uzziah fell. In this case, it was not as in so many others a matter of folly in battle. Rather, it was folly in worship. Uzziah seems to have come under the impression that his military victories indicated such a degree of God’s favor—such a degree of his own righteousness before God—that he could disregard the ways God had commanded his people to approach him. He disregarded the supreme holiness of God, and took lightly the laws that Yahweh had laid out. It cost him everything on which he had prided himself; he spent the end of his life a leper alone. God’s response to Uzziah’s actions here serve as a stark reminder to me not to take worship lightly, and not to dishonor God by taking <em>him</em> lightly. He is holy, and we ought never dare to trifle with him.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Steadfast love and faithfulness preserve the king<br />
and by steadfast love his throne is upheld.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 20:28)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Whose steadfast love and faithfulness preserve a king, and whose steadfast love upholds the throne of a king? It is Yahweh: a God merciful and gracious, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. It is the king who is above all the other kings. Proverbs points in unison with the Chronicles to the Messianic king. Praise be to God for his work in Christ Jesus. Hallelujah for a king who will <em>not</em> turn his back on his God or on his people, who will not lead the people into idolatry or presumptuous worship, but who is himself <em>able</em> to serve as priest, prophet, and king.</p>
Invest!—Memorizing Scripture2014-01-19T23:05:00-05:002014-01-19T23:05:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-19:/2014/invest-memorizing-scripture.html<p>Tonight, I am pausing from my normal discussion of the passages I’ve been reading, to discuss instead how Jaimie and I have begun memorizing Scripture together this spring.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Both of us have been persuaded of the value of memorizing Scripture for a long time (since before we met …</p><p>Tonight, I am pausing from my normal discussion of the passages I’ve been reading, to discuss instead how Jaimie and I have begun memorizing Scripture together this spring.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Both of us have been persuaded of the value of memorizing Scripture for a long time (since before we met, and indeed since before we were in college).<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> Jaimie’s private Christian school included Scripture memorization as part of its curriculum, and the church at which I grew up likewise emphasized it as a useful discipline. Accordingly, both of us learned at relatively young ages to practice memorizing verses from the Bible. We may not have been AWANA champions, but both of us have a good bit of the Bible stored in our memories.</p>
<p>During college, as I studied the Bible and studied hermeneutics, I became increasingly convinced that the approach I had been taking to memorizing Scripture was, if not exactly <em>unhelpful</em> (learning the Bible is a good move, full stop), nonetheless not nearly as helpful as it could be. Specifically, my emphasis on memorizing a verse here and a verse there—even when I went so far as to memorize the whole sentence—seemed to me to prevent me from really remembering the full meaning of the passage in question. Several times, I discovered that a verse I had memorized meant something other than what I had thought, as I studied its context carefully. It did not take but a few of these incidents for me to decide that I wanted to try something different. Accordingly, I decided to stoip memorizing individual verses or short passages, and to try instead to memorize a book of the Bible. That way, every single verse would automatically be in context for me.</p>
<p>You are probably thinking I was crazy, and/or (for those of you who know me well) that it is a typically over-the-top Chris Krycho thing to do. In some ways that might be true, at least in the details of my implementation: I jumped in with Hebrews, since it is one of my favorite books in the Bible. Things were actually going fairly well with that project; I had succesfully memorized up through chapter 7 and was working on verse 8… and then I graduated from college. Suddenly, the 15–20 minutes each day in which I had been accustomed to walking around on campus—the time in which I had been practicing my Scripture memory—was gone. I fell out of the habit, and never finished memorizing the book.</p>
<p>Fast forward three and a half years. Jaimie and I moved to North Carolina, and we started attending and soon joined <a href="http://www.fbcdurham.org/">First Baptist Church of Durham</a>. During our membership class, we received an interesting little booklet written by our senior pastor, Andy Davis, <a href="http://www.fbcdurham.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Scripture-Memory-Booklet-for-Publication-Website-Layout.pdf"><em>An Approach to Extended Memorization of Scripture</em></a>. Curious, I read through it that evening. Pastor Davis outlined there both the benefits of memorizing Scripture and—to my surprise and interest—basically the same concerns I had had about memorizing individual passages out of context. But then he did something profoundly helpful: he also provided a practical, straightforward system to help people learn to memorize extended sections of Scripture (i.e. <em>books</em>). And not just crazy, over-the-top, intense people like Chris Krycho. Ordinary, not so strange people.</p>
<p>Last fall, Jaimie and I started trying to memorize Philippians together. However, we did not have a system or a plan, and the attempt ended up going off the rails. We were moving at different paces, we were not helping each other review, and the whole thing eventually just sort of slid to a halt in the face of our busy lives and our lack of a plan. As part of our start to the new year, though, I suggested that we look at Pastor Davis’ materials and see if they would work for us. As it turns out, they do—they work really, really well.</p>
<p>Jaimie and I are 12 verses into Colossians 1, two weeks along. The system, simple as it is, has been easy to keep up each day, and has helped us stay in sync. We review together pretty much every day, and it has been a real joy. Picking a shorter book helps a lot, too: it feels more doable. By the time our next child is born in early June (Lord willing), we will have finished the book and be reviewing it.</p>
<p>The basic system itself is simple:</p>
<ul>
<li>Pick a book. (Start short. Dr. Davis recommends Ephesians, and I certainly wouldn’t go longer than that.)</li>
<li>Day 1: read 1:1 ten times out loud, then repeat it ten times from memory.</li>
<li>Day 2: repeat 1:1 ten times from memory, checking the text if you need to. Once you finish that, read 1:2 ten times out loud, and then repeat it ten times from meory.</li>
<li>Days 3 and following: repeat all previously memorized verses once from memory. Then repeat the previous day’s verse 10 times from memory. Then read the next verse ten times out loud, and then repeat it ten times from memory.</li>
</ul>
<p>This way, one always reviews previous material in the book, but without it taking overly long. For example, on day 6, one would review 1:1–5 from memory, say 1:5 another 9 times out loud from memory, read 1:6 out loud ten times, and then repeat 1:6 ten times from memory.</p>
<p>To be honest, this system works <em>far</em> better than the approach I had been taking on my own, both when I was memorizing Hebrews years ago and when I was working on Philippians last fall. The specific, active repetition helps solidify the verses in my head, which is important, especially because there are some verses that are just hard.</p>
<p>Pastor Davis outlines a good deal more in his <a href="http://www.fbcdurham.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Scripture-Memory-Booklet-for-Publication-Website-Layout.pdf">booklet</a>, including arguing for the value of memorizing Scripture, why tackling longer stretches is helpful, and discussing both how to learn longer books and how to remember the books one has already learned. I commend this approach to you, even as I urge you strongly to consider making Scripture memory a regular spiritual discipline.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>We actually tried starting this in the fall. It didn’t work out so well. Keep reading.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>If you are not persuaded, I am not here going to make a full attempt to persuade you. Suffice it to say that I find it enormously helpful to have God’s revelation stored up in my mind—I find that the Holy Spirit often uses it to convict me or encourage me throughout the day, and that it is incredibly valuable in interacting with others, whether building up fellow believers or speaking with those who do not believe.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
The Life and Death of Words2014-01-18T22:55:00-05:002014-01-18T22:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-18:/2014/life-and-death-of-words.html<p>It is no exaggeration to say that I have spent more time thinking on the words Proverbs assigns to warning fools about the quantity of their speech than to almost any other part of the Proverbs.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> I have many faults, but one of the most significant and ongoing is …</p><p>It is no exaggeration to say that I have spent more time thinking on the words Proverbs assigns to warning fools about the quantity of their speech than to almost any other part of the Proverbs.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> I have many faults, but one of the most significant and ongoing is a tendency to be quick to speak and slow to hear (and yes, quick to become angry)—to invert the order commended by James in the New Testament. This is no small thing.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Death and life are in the power of the tongue,<br />
and those who love it will eat its fruits. (Proverbs 18:21)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Though I have sometimes heard this verse misused (as though to suggest a mystical power in our speech—a view for which I think there is no warrant), the plain meaning alone is enough to give a person with my proclivities pause. If my one of my chief follies is the tendency to speak too freely and without sufficient consideration, what death have I wrought? Where might I have brought life instead? When I speak with Jaimie or with Ellie, when having long talks with friends, when offering my thoughts publicly, my words matter. <em>All</em> words matter. Jesus warned the Pharisees (and warns us, lest we be like them):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I tell you, on the day of judgment people will give account for every careless word they speak, for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned. (Matthew 12:36–37, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The words one chooses to use—the words <em>I</em> choose to use—can build others up or cut them down. They can encourage, or they can wound. They can bring life or death.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">A fool takes no pleasure in understanding,<br />
but only in expressing his opinion.<br />
<br />
A fool’s lips walk into a fight,<br />
and his mouth invites a beating.<br />
A fool’s mouth is his ruin,<br />
and his lips are a snare to his soul.<br />
<br />
If one gives an answer before he hears,<br />
it is his folly and shame.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 18:2, 6–7, 13)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It is a bit painful to think how often I have been a fool in these terms. It is a caution to me in writing these very posts. Yes, it is good to take time to reflect on the things I am learning from the Scriptures. It is, I think, profitable to post these particular reflections publicly.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> There is, however, a serious danger that my writing could be an act of folly, and the more so the quicker I am to write before carefully considering the matter at hand.</p>
<p>When I write on Scripture, I have one sort of responsibility: to honor the text, and in so doing to honor the one who authored the text. Few of us should seek to be teachers, because we will be held to a higher standard of judgment for our words. If I speak falsely of Scripture, there is a real chance that I will do harm to others’ spiritual health. When I write on other topics, I have a different sort of responsibility, but one no less weighty for that. If I publicly opine on politics, address personal situations in our lives, or discuss the contours of evangelical Christianity, my words will undoubtedly be read by people who stand either to benefit or to be injured by those words. Again: to write without careful consideration would be to risk bringing spiritual harm. In both cases, I would be in danger of dishonoring the God who gave us words.</p>
<p>This is particularly important for those of us who love words. I am obsessed with the beauty and power of human language, awed by the gift God bestowed on us in the creative potential of phonemes and clauses and sentences and paragraphs. I can (and, my friends can all wearily attest, <em>do</em>) wax eloquent at the drop of a pin. This delight is a good thing; it is a part of the <em>imago dei</em> in me. Yet my words are not to be their own ends. They, like I myself, exist for a cause greater than that. They are meant to serve God. If they do not, they will bring death. If they do, they will bring life.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>The only other repeated warning I have considered as carefully is that on sexual immorality—an area in which all young people are especially tempted.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>It would not necessarily be profitable to post <em>every</em> reflection publicly. Some of them would do the public no good, and posting them would be only a way of seeking attention in a way that would feed those selfsame sins. Confession is good. But confession is done with brothers and sisters in close fellowship—not with the world at large.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Every King Broken2014-01-17T23:55:00-05:002014-01-17T23:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-17:/2014/every-king-broken.html<p><i class="editorial">The attentive reader will no doubt have noted that I missed a night last night, and am accordingly skipping over the relevant chapters. I fell asleep just after reading said chapters—so the <em>most</em> important aspect of this project, I still accomplished. Huzzah. As for why I got to it …</i></p><p><i class="editorial">The attentive reader will no doubt have noted that I missed a night last night, and am accordingly skipping over the relevant chapters. I fell asleep just after reading said chapters—so the <em>most</em> important aspect of this project, I still accomplished. Huzzah. As for why I got to it so late (and why I am again tonight)… that will have to wait for next Tuesday to explain.</i></p>
<p>A great deal of the latter parts of the Chronicles—as in Kings—are concerned with the deeds men who decided <em>not</em> to submit to Yahweh. Solomon’s son, Rehoboam, set the tone for much of what followed. He began by obeying and worshiping God, but all too soon he went his own way. The Chronicler summarizes Rehoboam’s turn in a single sentence that I found strikingly provocative:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>When the rule of Rehoboam was established and he was strong, he abaondoned the law of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, and all Israel with him. (2 Chronicles 12:1)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>His deeds bore this out. Whereas in the beginning of his reign Rehoboam was sensible enough to obey Yahweh when God spoke to the king through a prophet and warned him not to go to war with Jeroboam of Israel, his habits had changed:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>There were continual wars between Rehoboam and Jeroboam (2 Chronicles 12:15b)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Right there we have a perfect summary not only of the folly of so many kings of Judah in the years that followed Rehoboam, but of many of us as well. We turn to God in desperation in times of trouble, or when we are seeking security, but as soon as times are good and things seem to be going well with us, we are quick to abandon him. We begin to disobey, deciding our way is better and relying on our own wisdom. Never mind that we came to whatever point of success we have achieved only because God granted it to us in his grace.</p>
<p>The next chapter records the reign of Rehoboam’s son Ahijah—a man who, it seems, recognized the power of Yahweh but did not fully submit to his rule. He happily relied on Yahweh when waging war, but (like his father, grandfather Solomon, and great-grandfather David before him) he rejected God’s law when it came to taking multiple wives.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> This sort of going halfway <em>also</em> seems to characterize us all too frequently. We are happy to accept God’s help, and may even be zealous for him in some ways, but too often are unwilling to submit to his law.</p>
<p>Ahijah’s son Asa provides one more picture of a way that we often go wrong. He began exceedingly well. He relied on Yahweh for victory in war, and he also faithfully pursued his ways at home. He led Judah to break down their altars to other gods and pledge themselves to the worship of Yahweh, the one true God. He exiled even his own grandmother because of her devotion to idols. In short, if we had only chapter 15, we would think Asa a model king—but the Chronicler adds an unhappy ending to the story. As Asa grew old, he turned away from the wisdom of his youth and decided to rely not on the strength of God for his country’s defense but on his own political machinations and the strength in arms of neighboring nations.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> That he was now going thoroughly off the rails becomes quite clear as one reads that he tortured the priest who told him that Yahweh disapproved of his treaty, and that he refused even in his illness to seek God’s aid. There is a warning here: starting well does not guarantee one will finish well.</p>
<p>Over and over again, as one reads through the Chronicles with Yahweh’s resounding promise to David in mind—that promise of a son whose throne would be established forever—one is left disappointed. Beginning with Solomon, every single king misses the mark in some way. Either he flatly rejects Yahweh, or he simply finds an area in which he will not obey, or he falls away from wisdom as he ages. On and on go their follies—the defects in character and failings in every virtue. But in this way, Rehoboam, Ahijah, and Asa all serve us still. They point us to the one king who did <em>not</em> fail, the man from the line of David, of the tribe of Judah, the great-grandson of Abraham, the offspring of the woman, born of a woman. That king never sinned. No matter how many years passed, he remained steadfast in the face of temptation to err (and remains steadfast in his prayers for us). He has but one bride, whom he awaits still. Jesus the Messiah is that King.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Perhaps it is just me, but the idea of having multiple wives is somewhat terrifying. Jaimie is more than enough mystery for one lifetime. I think two women would leave me confounded without ceasing.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Note that making alliances is not an inherently ungodly thing to do. The trick was that here it <em>clearly</em> demonstrated Asa’s lack of faith in Yahweh to save Judah, standing in rather stark contrast to his behavior in his youth.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Who Can Dwell With God?2014-01-15T23:55:00-05:002014-01-15T23:55:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-15:/2014/who-can-dwell-with-god.html<p>Psalm 15, like many of the Psalms, has a double purpose. It points us simultaneously to whom we ought to aim to be as we strive to be holy as God is holy, and to Christ, the only one who has ever perfectly walked out these words. Walking through the …</p><p>Psalm 15, like many of the Psalms, has a double purpose. It points us simultaneously to whom we ought to aim to be as we strive to be holy as God is holy, and to Christ, the only one who has ever perfectly walked out these words. Walking through the passage tonight provided an opportunity both to pray for the Holy Spirit to make me more like these words, and to worship the Holy One of God who has actually fulfilled them.</p>
<p>David opens with a provocative, challenging question:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Oh <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, who shall sojourn in your tent?<br />
Who shall dwell on your holy hill?</div>
<p>(Psalm 15:1, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Who indeed? The Psalms have already shown us<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> the image of a holy God who will brook no injustice and who hates sin passionately, but who is also the covenant-keeper and salvation of Israel.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">He who walks blamelessly and does what is right<br />
and speaks truth in his heart; …</div>
<p>(Psalm 15:2, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This is quite the target to hit already. Who <em>always</em> walks blameless and does what is right? Not I. Who is <em>never</em> self-deceived (still less never deceitful toward others)? Again, not I.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">…who does not slander with his tongue<br />
and does no evil to his neighbor,<br />
nor takes up a reproach against his friend; …</div>
<p>(Psalm 15:3, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>All of us have slandered our neighbors and taken up a reproach against friends. We have spoken cruelly of those we love, been harsh in our assessments of people over whom we have no such right to stand in judgment. We have been unkind to friends and held against them their sins. All of us have done evil to our neighbors—there is no one among us who has escaped and managed to avoid ever harming anyone near us.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">…in whose eyes a vile person is despised,<br />
but who honors those who fear the Lord…</div>
<p>(Psalm 15:4a, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>How many of us can truly say that we have this kind of heart—that we always earnestly oppose those who rebel against God, and honor those who fear Him? Again: not I. Too often I make excuses for those who do not know God, rather than call their idolatrous and treacherous way of life as it is. Too often I am impatient and unkind and derogatory toward those who <em>do</em> walk with God.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">who swears to his own hurt and does not change;<br />
who does not put out his money at interest<br />
and does not take a bribe against the innocent.<br />
He who does these things shall never be moved.</div>
<p>(Psalm 15:4b–5, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>How many of us have made a promise and then gone back on it because it became inconvenient? How many of us have, if not literally charged interest, then held it against people when it took them a long time to pay us back on money we lent them? To what extent are we <em>all</em> complicit in crimes against the innocent, even when we ourselves have kept our hands clean—just by dint of our lives in a fallen world, as part of a fallen nation, where every year sees innocent lives lost at our hands?</p>
<p>There is not much hope for any of us to stand on God’s holy hill even for a moment—still less to dwell there forever. But Christ has measured up to every line that David raised, and gone beyond them. He stands in our stead, his righteousness granted to us, our failings taken on his own body. His Spirit empowers us to pursue this kind of life: fleeing sin and pursuing the holiness of God. May we seek to look more like Christ, who alone has the right to sojourn in Yahweh’s tent and who alone has the right to dwell on his holy hill —but who has invited all of us in to the feast in that temple and to sit at his feet and eat the bread that satisfies on his mountain.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I take the view that the Psalms, in addition to being valuable in their own right individually, were organized by an editor who knew what he or she was about. That editor’s decisions about where to put the Psalms is often illuminating—much as it is with any other collection.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Practical Wisdom2014-01-14T23:10:00-05:002014-01-14T23:10:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-14:/2014/01-14-practical-wisdom.html<p>The Proverbs contain a striking mix of profound theological statements and practical, down-to-earth wisdom. Often the two come right next to each other,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> and are both made all the more illuminating by way of the juxtaposition. The book’s pages also include no few beautiful gems of insight into …</p><p>The Proverbs contain a striking mix of profound theological statements and practical, down-to-earth wisdom. Often the two come right next to each other,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> and are both made all the more illuminating by way of the juxtaposition. The book’s pages also include no few beautiful gems of insight into the human condition. Some of each caught my attention tonight as I read through Proverbs 14.</p>
<section id="on-the-human-condition" class="level2">
<h2>On the human condition</h2>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">The heart knows its own bitterness,<br />
and no stranger shares its joy.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 14:10, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And again:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Even in laughter the heart may ache,<br />
and the end of joy may be grief.</div>
<p>(Provebs 14:13, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Both of these speak to realities we have all experienced. To be human in a fallen world is to be lonely at times—to know that one’s heart can never be shared perfectly with another. There are times when our hearts ache with this knowledge: because our grief is so deep that we wish another could partake of it with us and so ease the ache, and because our hearts are so full of gladness that we wish another could partake of it with us and so share the merriment. But we cannot. We are sundered from one another. But not finally so. We were made for better than this. Some day we will taste of it. In the long wait until that day, we may content ourselves with this: that very God of very God has drunk the bowl of our grief and supped with us in joy-making—we are known.</p>
</section>
<section id="practical-insights" class="level2">
<h2>Practical insights</h2>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">A truthful witness saves lives,<br />
but one who breathes out lies is deceitful.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 14:25, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This one seems both straightforward and obvious to me. It is interesting, though, that the author makes the point that the truthful witness <em>saves lives</em>. It reminds me that our lenient age, with death a rare punishment for any crime, no matter how severe, is very different from almost every other. The word of a witness, in those days, meant the difference between a man being stoned to death and his going home to his family. Yet it is no less important today. I read recently of a case of wrongful conviction—a man sentenced to prison for a crime he did not commit, which it is now <em>known</em> he did not commit, and still he cannot get out of jail—and all this because of a false testimony delivered on the stand many decades ago.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> Our words still have the power to make or ruin lives. Sometimes these are dramatic moments; other times they are the many little moments that add up to a larger shift in the course of one’s life. Either way, telling the truth matters.</p>
</section>
<section id="theological-profundities" class="level2">
<h2>Theological profundities</h2>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">In the fear of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> one has strong confidence,<br />
and his children will have a refuge.<br />
The fear of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> is a fountain of life,<br />
that one may turn away from the snares of death.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 14:26–27, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>These verses remind me in the sharpest terms that fearing Yahweh is essential to my own spiritual health and that of my family. Fearing him is confidence, refuge, life, escape from the snares of death. What would it mean, then, <em>not</em> to fear God? And make no mistake: fear here is more than mere reverence. God is holy, and his wrath burns hot against sin; we <em>should</em> fear him. Not in contradistinction to loving him, though. Note that it is precisely in fearing Yahweh that one has confidence and refuge and life and salvation!</p>
<p>The next one is of a rather different kind, but its anthropological theology is striking:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Whoever oppresses a poor man insults his Maker,<br />
but he who is generous to the needy honors him.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 14:31, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>God so cares about the poor, that to oppress poor people is to insult him. He so loves the needy that being generous to them is to honor him. I think many Christians who are both theologically and politically conservative fail to take these kinds of words sufficiently seriously. Whatever the case may be for others, I know <em>I</em> have failed to take them with all the gravity these words carry.</p>
</section>
<section id="striking-contrasts" class="level2">
<h2>Striking contrasts</h2>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">The poor is disliked even by his neighbor,<br />
but the rich has many friends.<br />
Whoever despises his neighbor is a sinner,<br />
but blessed is he who is generous to the poor.</div>
<p>(Proverbs 14:20-21, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The first stanza is one of those straightforward, practical observations on the way things are in this broken world. It is simply <em>true</em> that people look down on those who are poor, and that wealth earns friendship (of a sort). It is not <em>right</em> that this is so. But still it is so. The second stanza shows up this reality for what it is, though: a reflection of a broken reality. The man who scorns his neighbor—no matter the cause, but as we have seen perhaps <em>especially</em> if for poverty—sins in doing so. The man who gives generously to the poor is blessed. The contrast between the broken world in which we live and the holy ways of God to which we are called could not be clearer.</p>
<p>In summary, I am increasingly grateful for the Proverbs. I appreciate more and more Solomon’s (and others’) skill in composing them, and the editor’s skill in arranging them so thoughtfully. Praise God.</p>
</section>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>It strikes me that we evangelicals—ever jetting between the poles of abstruse dogmatics and applied pragmatics—would do well to spend a bit more time on the way the Proverbs marry the two.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>To be sure, this indicates flaws in our justice system, as well.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
When God Built David a House2014-01-13T22:15:00-05:002014-01-13T22:15:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-13:/2014/when-god-built-david-a-house.html<p>First Chronicles 16–17 marks one of the hinges in the progression of salvation history. Of all the great turns in the march of God’s plan, this one is right up there with those that happened in the lives of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, and Moses. David brought …</p><p>First Chronicles 16–17 marks one of the hinges in the progression of salvation history. Of all the great turns in the march of God’s plan, this one is right up there with those that happened in the lives of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham, and Moses. David brought the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem and instituted the ritual<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> of worship that was to characterize the place where God’s presence would dwell thenceforth—a ritual that would produce many of the psalms and that would shape the best of the life of faithful Hebrews for generations to come. Then, Yahweh God blessed David with a covenant promise that far exceeded anything David did (or could have done) for his creator.</p>
<p>It is worth quoting Yahweh’s promise to David at length, to see just how central this promise was to be in the history of God’s plan for saving the world:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>“Moreover, I declare to you that the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> will build you a house.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> When your days are fulfilled to walk with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring<a href="#fn3" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref3" role="doc-noteref"><sup>3</sup></a> after you, one of your own sons, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for me, and I will establish his throne forever. I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son. I will not take my steadfast love from him, as I took it from him who was before you, but I will confirm him in my house and in my kingdom forever, and his throne shall be stablished forever.” (1 Chronicles 17:10b–14)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Much of this finds its first fulfillment in David’s son Solomon, of course. Solomon built a temple for God, and Yahweh did fill it with his presence. Solomon, despite his wandering ways, continued to receive the blessings of God. However, even a casual reading of the rest of <em>this book</em>—the Chronicles— immediately raises the question: How, exactly, will this promise be fulfilled if the Davidic line of kings ended when the Jews were exiled to Babylon?</p>
<p>The New Testament makes it clear, of course: this promise finds its ultimately fulfillment in Jesus Christ. The Messiah <em>fills up</em> a promise that had its first satisfaction in Solomon, but which was left unfinished in that king, great though he was. Jesus is the king whose throne is and will be established forever, from whom the Father’s steadfast love with never be removed, and who indeed <a href="/2014/temple-for-god.html" title="A Temple For God">built a house</a> for God. Jesus is the one of whom the Father said, “I will be to him a father, and he will be to me a son” (see Hebrews 1:5).</p>
<p>But of course, just as the Hebrews were waiting with longing for a Messiah to come and fulfill this promise in the long years between the Exile and the coming of Christ, so we are awaiting the Messiah’s coming in these long years between the Ascension and the Eschaton. The King is seated at the right hand of the Majesty on high (Hebrews 1:3), but he has not yet come to claim the whole of his kingdom. But in the interval, we follow David’s lead:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Sing to the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, all the earth!<br />
Tell of his salvation from day to day.<br />
Declare his glory among the nations,<br />
his marvelous works among all the peoples!<br />
For great is the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, and greatly to be praised,<br />
and he is to be held in awe above all gods.<br />
For all the gods of the peoples are idols,<br />
but the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> made the heavens,<br />
Splendor and majesty are before him;<br />
strength and joy are in his place.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Hallelujah. Maranatha.<a href="#fn4" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref4" role="doc-noteref"><sup>4</sup></a></p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Used here in the purely descriptive sense. Though we can all fall into <em>dead</em> ritual, where we practice the mere outward forms of things with no motion of our will in line with the motions of our bodies, not all ritual is dead. Nor is all ritual bad. When our worship is <em>reduced</em> to ritual, we have a problem, but ritual-less worship is anarchy and chaos at best.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>I’m skipping over this for the sake of brevity, but I find it really remarkable that when David plans to build God a house, God sends a prophet and tells David, “No, <em>I</em> am going to build <em>you</em> a house.” Here is a small picture of the gospel: God does for us what we are not worthy to do for him.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn3" role="doc-endnote"><p>“Offspring” here is the same word (“seed”) used in the promise that the “offspring” of the woman would bruise the serpent’s head and that the through “offspring” of Abraham the nations would be blessed.<a href="#fnref3" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn4" role="doc-endnote"><p>“Come soon!”<a href="#fnref4" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Scriptural Miscellanies2014-01-12T23:30:00-05:002014-01-12T23:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-12:/2014/scriptural-miscellanies-jan-12-2014.html<p><i class="editorial">Tonight, rather than doing a single, longer, extended piece, I am simply going to respond to a number of indidivual verses or passages, and more briefly than usual. Sleep is calling, but diligence in seeking God is a good I will not be quick to overlook.</i></p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Whoever loves discipline hates …</div></blockquote><p><i class="editorial">Tonight, rather than doing a single, longer, extended piece, I am simply going to respond to a number of indidivual verses or passages, and more briefly than usual. Sleep is calling, but diligence in seeking God is a good I will not be quick to overlook.</i></p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Whoever loves discipline hates knowledge<br />
but he who hates reproof is stupid. (Proverbs 12:1, ESV)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>It strikes me that this verse could serve as a heading for much of Proverbs, and unfortunately for much of many of our lives. It is easy to hate reproof, because it is easy to hate being wrong, because it is easy to be prideful and resistant to correction.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Deceit is in the heart of the wicked,<br />
but those who plan peace have joy. (Proverbs 12:20, ESV)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>This verse—and many like it throughout the Psalms—makes it clear that the <em>many</em> things may contrast with wickedness. Though wickedness has a relatively short list of characteristics in the Proverbs (murder and deception above all), the things contrasted with the behavior of the wicked is nearly infinite. The list includes wisdom, righteousness, peace, joy, and life, to name but a few.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Because the poor are plundered, because the needy groan,<br />
“I will now arise,” says the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>;<br />
“I will place him in the saftey for which he longs.”</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Though I do not buy into “liberation theology”, thinking as I do that its proponents tend to dramatically oversell their own case while ignoring entirely the Biblical witness toward the individual nature of redemption and the salvific work of Christ at Calvary, verses like this (and indeed: Psalms like this) remind us that the liberation position <em>does</em> have something going for it. Namely, it takes seriously something that Scripture takes seriously: God’s particular and especial concern for the poor and needy, not least those abused by people with more power than them. We would do well to integrate this thread more thoroughly into our evangelical conception of the world and our responsibilities thereto. We need not diminish our clear proclamation of the gospel nor mute our insistence on the centrality, supremacy, and sufficiency of Christ in order to set our hands to work diligently for the good of the poor and needy. We need not throw out penal substitutionary atonement to acknowledge that God <em>does</em> show particular concern for the poor and downtrodden.</p>
Prayer of Thanksgiving2014-01-12T11:15:00-05:002014-01-12T11:15:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-12:/2014/prayer-thanksgiving-jan-12-2014.html<p>Oh God—our creator and father; our savior-king, lord, and friend; our helper, teacher, and comforter—thank you for your unfailing love toward us. We marvel: you are the lord of light and of life, the maker of heaven and earth; you have set your glory above the heavens, and …</p><p>Oh God—our creator and father; our savior-king, lord, and friend; our helper, teacher, and comforter—thank you for your unfailing love toward us. We marvel: you are the lord of light and of life, the maker of heaven and earth; you have set your glory above the heavens, and yet you are mindful of men and women like us. And not only mindful! You delight in us and love us in spite of our rebellion against you. You gave infinitely of yourself that we might be redeemed. Oh Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!</p>
<p>As we have gathered here to worship, and as we bring you these gifts, we remember that everything we give to you is yours already. You do not <em>need</em> anything of us; everything in all the world is yours already. All that we have we have from you—not only our possessions, but even our lives—so we pray that you be exalted in our giving, in our singing, and in the preached word. May we be those who in our giving gladly demonstrate that you are more precious to us than the things of this world. May Christ be exalted in our own hearts, in the work of this congregation, in the lives of the members of this church, in the community around us, and in the efforts of missionaries around the world as we give. Thank you so much for your steadfast love toward us!</p>
<p>We pray all these things in the name of Jesus Christ our risen Lord. Amen.</p>
Saul and David/Righteousness and Folly2014-01-11T20:50:00-05:002014-01-11T20:50:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-11:/2014/saul-david-righteousness-folly.html<p>The books of Chronicles serve as something of a parallel and supplementary account to the books of 1 and 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> There are a few significant differences between the books, though. First, Samuel and Kings take considerable time to trace out Saul’s history …</p><p>The books of Chronicles serve as something of a parallel and supplementary account to the books of 1 and 2 Samuel and 1 and 2 Kings.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> There are a few significant differences between the books, though. First, Samuel and Kings take considerable time to trace out Saul’s history and then divided their attention fairly evenly between Judah and Israel, with a slight emphasis on Israel because of Elijah and Elisha’s ministries there. The Chronicles skip almost entirely over Saul and focus predominantly on the Davidic line in Judah.</p>
<p>Second, Samuel and Kings generally let events speak for themselves, with little commentary. Yahweh is always in control, but the author rarely provides explicit theological interpretation of the events recorded. The Chronicles, rather strikingly, <em>often</em> make straightforward claims about divine action and provide moral commentary on the events they record. After its long list of <a href="/theology/grappling-with-genealogies.html">genealogies</a>, 1 Chronicles turns to a narrative of the history of the Hebrews in the kingdom era, picking up with Saul’s death—and immediately offers a theological interpretation of the events (2 Samuel and 1 Kings simply report the events and a few people’s responses):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>So Saul died for his breach of faith. he broke faith with the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> in that he did not keep the command of the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>, and also consulted a medium, seeking guidance. He did not seek guidance from the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>. Therefore the <span class="smcp">Lord</span> put him to death and turned the kingdom over to David the son of Jesse. (1 Chronicles 10:13–14, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>No ambiguity, no reason to misunderstand what happened. Kings made it clear by literary structure. The Chronicles just come out and say it: Yahweh took the kingdom away from Saul because he was unfaithful to him, and he gave it to a man who—whatever his faults, and they were indeed many—would follow Yahweh.</p>
<hr />
<p>In Psalm 11, David evinces the very trust in Yahweh Saul lacked. He proclaims his confidence that Yahweh will save him. To the warning that “the wicked bend the bow; / they have fitted their arrow to the string / to shoot in the dark at the upright in heart” (Psalm 11:2, ESV), David has a simple reply: “The <span class="smcp">Lord</span> is in his holy temple; / the <span class="smcp">Lord</span>’s throne is in heaven; his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man” (Psalm 11:4, ESV). David’s confidence was not in his own strength. His hope was not in being free and clear of anyone who would oppose him, but in the one whose throne is in heaven. Saul spent his days troubled and afraid because he was never secure in Yahweh.</p>
<hr />
<p>Proverbs 11:28 (ESV) comments:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Whoever trusts in his riches will fall,<br />
but the righteous will flourish like a green leaf.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>The whole chapter resounds with the contrast between trust in riches or power or mortal plans and righteousness. Righteousness, it seems, is in trusting and obeying Yahweh. There is no righteousness that trusts in one’s own strength. There is only the righteousness “which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith” (Philippians 3:9, ESV). I am reminded tonight not to trust in my own abilities, nor in the provision God has given us,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> but in God himself.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Originally these four books were a single book, just as 1 and 2 Chronicles were a single book; it is rather unfortunate the modern divisions obscure this.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>What folly to put our trust in the material things we have, when they are not ours save by the generous gift of God!<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Grappling With Genealogies2014-01-10T22:17:00-05:002014-01-10T22:17:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-10:/2014/grappling-with-genealogies.html<p><i class="editorial">A brief note ahead of the rest of the post: this month, <a href="http://christianaudio.com">ChristianAudio.com</a> is giving away the ESV “Hear the Word” Audio Bible. Really, <a href="http://christianaudio.com/free">for free</a>. You give them an email address, you get the whole Bible, read <em>extremely</em> well. I highly recommend that you follow up on this …</i></p><p><i class="editorial">A brief note ahead of the rest of the post: this month, <a href="http://christianaudio.com">ChristianAudio.com</a> is giving away the ESV “Hear the Word” Audio Bible. Really, <a href="http://christianaudio.com/free">for free</a>. You give them an email address, you get the whole Bible, read <em>extremely</em> well. I highly recommend that you follow up on this, because it is normally not inexpensive, though even so a good audio Bible is a very good investment. Now, back to the regularly scheduled post.</i></p>
<hr />
<p>As <a href="/2014/temple-for-god/">challenging</a> as it can be to apply 2 Chronicles 1—5 correctly, finding the substance in a passage like 1 Chronicles 1—5 is even harder, I think. The entire sequence is a list of names: fathers, sons, occasional wives and daughters in the mix. Genealogies are one of the most challenging sections in the Bible for Western readers, because they seem enormously dry and pointless. (I saw a non-Christian comment on finding the Bible incredibly boring the other day; I have no doubt that passaages like this one contributed substantially to that assessment.) Truth be told, though I am making a game effort at it, I still find these chapters difficult, too.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>There are two things I hold onto as I consider these challenging chapters, though. The first is Paul’s affirmation that “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be complete, equipped for every good work” (2 Timothy 3:16—17, ESV). That “all” is important, because Paul included 1 Chronicles 1—5 and Numbers 1 and Zechariah 4, challenging though they are in their different ways. He did not exclude them because they might not make as much sense to a future generation in another part of the world. Indeed, I would go so far as to say that under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Paul explicitly affirmed the value of these books in part <em>because</em> they would be foreign to us.</p>
<p>Too often, we privilege our own cultural views as inherently correct in some way. We assume that because genealogies do not matter <em>to us</em>, they do not matter <em>at all</em>. Few of us, it is true, would be so bold as to say this out loud, but deep down, that is what we really believe. (For what we really believe to be true is what drives our actions.) The presence of these lengthy genealogies in the very word of God stands as a clear rebuke to our cultural snobbery–and to our chronological snobbery, too. These genealogies remind us that we are not the first people in God’s story, and that we will not be the last. We are not the main characters in this narrative: even of those named in these chapters, how many are familiar to us now?<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> How many men and women, faithful followers of God, simply go unnamed in these passages? Likewise, who will know our names a thousand years hence, should the Lord tarry?</p>
<p>This genealogy stands as a rebuke to our self-adulation and our emphasis on our own value. It stands as a record of God’s dealings with people who went long before us, and thus as a testament to the historical character of God’s salvific work. It functions as a reminder that God’s plan involves many a flawed hero, and not a few villains. It points us back to the need for a king who would <em>not</em> fit the pattern of all the kings named in this line. It highlights God’s faithfulness to keep his promises to Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, and to David, even in the face of Israel’s and Judah’s rebellious ways. It ultimately points us to God himself, the one constant in all these names and relationships. He oversaw their history, as he oversees ours. We ought to reflect more often on those who have gone before us in the faith, and to thank God for them and for his work in history. We ought to be ever more dedicated to worshiping the God in whose hands history flows like a watercourse.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>Confession time: I put the <a href="http://christianaudio.com/free">audio</a> in 2× mode while I was listening to the latter parts of this section. It helped.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Even having read through these chapters a number of times, it had escaped me until tonight that David’s generals, Joab, Asahel, and Abishai, were his nephews–the sons of his sister Zeruiah (see 1 Chronicles 2:16). This detail sheds interesting light on many of their interactions, especially on David’s reticence to remove them from authority even when they were unruly. Yet it had previously been lost on me entirely.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Temple for God2014-01-09T07:45:00-05:002014-01-09T07:45:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-09:/2014/temple-for-god.html<p><i class=editorial>Note: today’s comments are a bit out of order on the sequence I’ve been reading. I accidentally started <em>Second</em> Chronicles rather than <em>First</em>. I’ll go back and start with First Chronicles tomorrow.</i></p>
<p>At first blush, the first five chapters of 1 Chronicles do not seem to be …</p><p><i class=editorial>Note: today’s comments are a bit out of order on the sequence I’ve been reading. I accidentally started <em>Second</em> Chronicles rather than <em>First</em>. I’ll go back and start with First Chronicles tomorrow.</i></p>
<p>At first blush, the first five chapters of 1 Chronicles do not seem to be particularly scintillating material on the whole. Solomon’s request for wisdom, and God’s answer, are notable, but otherwise the entire section is taken up by details of the construction of the temple. It is at points like this that read- the-Bible-in-a-year plans tend to get bogged down, and it is because of points like this that most read-the-Bible-in-a-year plans include readings from the New Testament as well as the Old. We struggle–or at least, <em>I</em> have historically struggled–to make much of these passages. Why does it matter that there were “four hundred pomegranates for the two latticeworks, two rows of pomegranates for each latticework, to cover the bowls of the capitals that were on top of the pillars”?</p>
<p>As I read the parallel passage in 1 Kings a little while back, it struck me that what we have there—and thus, also what we have here—is enough information to get a sense of the beauty and majesty of this building. The enormous quantitites of precious metals that went into its construction, the attention paid to such fine details of every single aspect of the building and its adornments, the specially chosen timber brought in from a neighboring land: they all show us that this temple was magnificent.</p>
<p>We are not a temple-building people, and our monuments tend to be austere and formal. Think of the Lincoln or Washington memorials in Washington, D. C.: they are not exactly <em>lively</em> places. Though celebratory and laudatory, they seek to impress rather than to delight, focusing on clean, simple lines and shapes with little ornamentation. The Solomonic temple, and before it the tabernacle, were <em>not</em> like that. They were full of color and decoration, even as they were built at striking physical scales. They were designed to engage every sense, sight and smell especially. They were <em>beautiful</em>.</p>
<p>So: beautiful the temple may have been. We are still left asking why the beauty of a temple built in ancient Jerusalem almost three millennia ago matters to Christians today. The answer, I think, lies in two passages in the New Testament. First:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Ephesians 2:19-22, ESV)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And again:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”</p>
<p>And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new….”</p>
<p>And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. (Revelation 20:1—5, 22—23)</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Do you see? As magnificent and beautiful as that old temple was, it has been supplanted. The <em>church</em> is the temple, a dwelling place for God that is yet more beautiful. People are more stunning than the loveliest stones. And there will come a day when the dwelling place of God is with man, not only in spirit but in physical, at th econsummation of all things. That temple, filled as it was with the awesome presence of God, was but the tiniest taste of <em>this</em> age, when God indwells every believer. And this age is but the tiniest taste of <em>that</em> age, when the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb come down from heaven and make their dwelling place with man.</p>
<p>Hallelujah. Our Lord, come!</p>
Out of the Mouths of Poets2014-01-08T22:37:00-05:002014-01-08T22:37:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-08:/2014/mouths-of-poets.html<p>Sometimes, the core idea of a passage–especially when in poetic forms like in the Psalms–cannot be understood apart from the structure of the passage itself. Tonight I was reading Psalm 8, and thinking about the aims of reading the Bible. Specifically, my aim is to know God and …</p><p>Sometimes, the core idea of a passage–especially when in poetic forms like in the Psalms–cannot be understood apart from the structure of the passage itself. Tonight I was reading Psalm 8, and thinking about the aims of reading the Bible. Specifically, my aim is to know God and worship him more as I read Scripture. Thus, my goal is that each time I read through a section I would come away both more aware of who God is and more set in both my will and my affections<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> to honor him.</p>
<p>As I read Psalm 8, I was wondering, “Okay, how does this lead me to worship?” Echoing the psalm is a good start, of course, as it opens and closes:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Oh Yahweh, our Lord,<br />
how majestic is your name in all the earth!</div>
</blockquote>
<p>But the rest of the psalm is a meditation not only on Yahweh’s majesty, but on the people he made. This is an interesting turn, and it caught me off guard as I started thinking more carefully about it. The key, I soon realized, is in the fact that this is a Psalm, not a letter or a sermon or a treatise. David felt free to get at his point sideways, as it were, and as is the fashion of poetry.</p>
<p>The whole poem turns back and forth between the God who made the heavens, who set his glory above them, and the people he made. The contrast is striking, and the more so because of the wonderful turns of phrase.</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,<br />
the moon and the stars, which you have set in place,<br />
what is man that you are mindful of him,<br />
and the son of man that you care for him?</div>
</blockquote>
<p>Now, I can sum up the point David is making here. One could say simply, “Humans are small compared to the universe, so it is surprising that God would pay attention to them.” But to do so without further reflection is to miss some of the beauty of what David does in the <em>poetry</em>, and therefore to miss the force of the passage. It is to miss an opportunity to have my emotions interact with this truth, and not only my mind. We have all felt the awe of staring at a night sky full of lights, a billion miles away and burning brighter than our own sun so that we can see them here across the aeons. We have all felt small against that vastness.</p>
<p>And if we stop for a moment and feel that here with David, and then are caught by the sudden turn—“what is man?”—we can feel with him the wonder that the God who set his glory above the heavens is the God who gave man dominion over creation. We can feel with him the surprise that God would not only establish his strength before the nations and before those who rebel against him, but that he would do it through babies and infants. We can feel with him the greatness of a God who is not limited by our feeble strength and our mortality, whose majesty goes beyond the tinyness of humanity and yet is somehow the greater for the ways he uses us, little beings that we are.</p>
<p>How majestic is the name of Yahweh in all the earth, indeed.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>My desires, ambitions, emotions–all the pieces of me that include but are not limited to my thoughts and feelings, and which are distinct from though closely interacting with my will.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
A Study in Contrasts: 2 Kings 16–202014-01-07T23:40:00-05:002014-01-07T23:40:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-07:/2014/study-in-contrasts-2-kings-16-20.html<p>One of the recurring themes of the books of Kings (1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings) is the distinction between those who “did what was right in the eyes of Yahweh” and those who “did what was evil in the sight of Yahweh”, e.g. 15:34, 17 …</p><p>One of the recurring themes of the books of Kings (1 and 2 Samuel, 1 and 2 Kings) is the distinction between those who “did what was right in the eyes of Yahweh” and those who “did what was evil in the sight of Yahweh”, e.g. 15:34, 17:2 respectively–to name just two of the <em>many</em> passages echoing this refrain in these books. Whereas 1 and 2 Samuel zoomed in on the contrast between Saul and David, 1 and 2 Kings take nearly all their successors at a very high level, often sparing them few more words than necessary to note their parentage, whether they did what was right or what was evil in the eyes of Yahweh, and a reference to other records of their deeds.</p>
<p>One of the dominant themes of these books, then, is that doing what is right in Yahweh’s eyes has an enormous reward, while doing what is evil in his eyes eventually brings a great judgment. 2 Kings 17—19 brings this message home, and hard. Centuries of rebellion on Israel’s part culminated in the Assyrian capture of Samaria and the forcible exile of the Jews of Israel from their homeland. The author pauses from his otherwise quick-moving narrative to explain this point in detail for the better part of a chapter. Israel’s fall was not the mere ordinary turn of regional political events it might have seemed. It was, instead, God’s final judgment on a people who had continuously rebelled against him generation after generation, worshiping in a way they <em>knew</em> was abhorrent to him.</p>
<p>By contrast, when the same mighty king with his mighty army came to take Jerusalem, the city stood. Judah had its share of wicked kings, to be sure–but unlike Israel, it also had many kings who “did what was right in the eyes of Yahweh” and in particular it had Hezekiah, who “trusted in Yahweh, the God of Israel, so that there was none like him among all the kings of Judah after him, nor among those who were before him” (18:5).</p>
<p>The armies of the greatest power in the region–unstoppable Assyria–surrounded the capital city en masse. Their leaders boasted in their victories, tried to bully Hezekiah and the people into surrendering without a fight, and insulted the name of Yahweh. Attacking the people of God is always a bad idea; attacking him directly is an even <em>worse</em> idea. The Scriptures are a long record of the lengths to which God will go to defend his name: he will quite literally die to defend the glorious reality that he is most righteous and most powerful being there is, most worthy of worship. When Sennacherib boasted, “Who among all the gods of the lands have delivered their lands out of my hand, that Yahweh should deliver Jerusalem out of my hand?” (18:35), he missed something. Hezekiah points it out in his prayer: “[They] were not gods, but the work of men’s hands, wood and stone. Therefore they were destroyed. So now, O Yahweh our God, save us, please, from his hand, that all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you, O Yahweh, are God alone” (19:18b—29).</p>
<p>God has <em>always</em> been about the business of making his name known to the ends of the earth. Not because he is a braggart, but because he is the end for which all things exist–the end for which <em>we</em> exist. In setting ourselves against that, we are setting ourselves against reality. We are trying to fly by pushing away from the ground with the hairs on our head–and for some reason, gravity comes out victorious. So when God brings judgment on blasphemers, that is a <em>mercy</em> to the nations who have a chance to repent and kneel before the king of all.</p>
<p>What is amazing to me is just how profoundly longsuffering God is. Were I so often insulted, ignored, and injuriously assaulted in character, I would not wait hundreds of years, sending prophet after prophet to give people opportunity after opportunity to respond. I sometimes have a hard time restraining my impatience for a few minutes with my wife or my child. And yet the God who ultimately struck down 185,000 Assyrians waited generation upon generation to bring his judgment on Israel–and he likewise gave the Assyrians the opportunity to repent (c.f. Jonah). This God is shockingly merciful, even as he brings judgment.</p>
Five Things Proverbs 6 Teaches2014-01-06T20:30:00-05:002014-01-06T20:30:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-06:/2014/five-things-proverbs-six.html<p>Proverbs 6 makes 5 points, rather distinctly and sharply. First a summary and then a few thoughts on each.</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p><strong>Verses 1–5:</strong> <em>Being security for your neighbor—still less for a stranger—is a bad idea.</em></p>
<p>This first point is perhaps the least obviously applicable to me today. I don …</p></li></ol><p>Proverbs 6 makes 5 points, rather distinctly and sharply. First a summary and then a few thoughts on each.</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p><strong>Verses 1–5:</strong> <em>Being security for your neighbor—still less for a stranger—is a bad idea.</em></p>
<p>This first point is perhaps the least obviously applicable to me today. I don’t make a habit of pledging money or possessions for a friend’s (still less a stranger’s) poor money decisions. I might <em>give</em> a friend (or even a stranger) money, but I can’t imagine putting myself in the position of guaranteeing a loan for someone else. That just seems like a terrible idea. Of course, that’s the point of these verses: it <em>is</em> a terrible idea. The counsel here is to get out of that kind of situation as fast as possible (and, by implication, to avoid getting into such a situation in the first place).</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Verses 6–11:</strong> <em>Laziness will prove ruinous. Industriousness will produce good results.</em></p>
<p>I have seen this proven true time and again in the lives of those around me. As a general rule, people who work hard do well for themselves, and people who are lazy do very poorly for themselves. As a rule, I say, because there are times when this is not true—there really are times when systemic injustices undermine even people’s best efforts. This proverb is a proverb, not an iron-clad guarantee, and we would all do well to remember as much. That said: we would <em>all</em> do well to remember as much: if the political conservative’s typical response is to simply point to this verse as a promise (which it is not), the political liberal’s typical response is to act as though this verse has no bearing whatsoever. Sometimes, poverty has complex, structural, societal roots—but sometimes, people are just lazy. God calls us <em>not</em> to be lazy; work is a good thing that was instituted before the Fall.</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Verses 12–15:</strong> <em>The ultimate fate of a wicked person is calamity.</em></p>
<p>There is nothing terribly complicated here. There is, however, a great deal of hope here for those of us who have watched wicked people go around behaving wickedly and seemingly coming off no worse for wear every time. There will come a day of recompense for every wicked deed. Lord willing, for some of those people, that day came when Christ came, and they will join us in the company of saints as they abandon their wickedness and turn to God. But for those who don’t, justice will come, and it will come swiftly.</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Verses 16–19:</strong> <em>There are some things God truly hates.</em></p>
<p>It is almost <em>passe</em> to note how distasteful this idea is in our culture today, but the words on the page could not be clearer. There are things that Yahweh hates, things that are an abomination to him. He hates pride. He abominates deceit. He hates the shedding of innocent blood. He abominates the plotting of wickedness. He hates the doing of evil. He abominates false witness to be borne. He hates dissension between brothers.</p>
<p>But more than this: he hates those who <em>do</em> these things. This is dreadful —apart from the grace he shows us in Christ.</p></li>
<li><p><strong>Verses 20–35:</strong> <em>Adultery is folly. Wisdom runs the other way.</em></p>
<p><a href="/2014/01/folly-of-sin">Once again</a>, the proverbs hammer home the folly of adultery. It is not only that it does not give what it promises and brings spiritual ruin. It is that it also produces, at a purely practical level, destruction. A spouse’s jealousy is (rightly) a fearful thing. Who in his right mind would sleep with another man’s wife, knowing what the response would be? What woman would sleep with another woman’s husband, knowing how her own rage would be? The implications just for one’s own health—still less any other part of one’s life—ought to be enough to warn us away.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>The Proverbs remind me again and again that God cares about my life at every level. He is not distant or unengaged with these details; he cares about every aspect of human flourishing, and takes pains to make clear to us what that flourishing looks like—and what it doesn’t.</p>
The Folly of Sin2014-01-05T23:00:00-05:002014-01-05T23:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-05:/2014/folly-of-sin.html<p>Adultery. It has torn countless families and destroyed innumerable ministries over the years. Over and over again, the refrain is the same: “I never thought it would happen to me!” and “I never meant for it to go this far!”<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Given the evidence of the years, though, no one …</p><p>Adultery. It has torn countless families and destroyed innumerable ministries over the years. Over and over again, the refrain is the same: “I never thought it would happen to me!” and “I never meant for it to go this far!”<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> Given the evidence of the years, though, no one should ever cavalierly say, “I’ll never do that.” Say it, yes. But back it up by making concrete choices every day not to break vows to your spouse.</p>
<p>Proverbs 5 couldn’t be clearer: adultery <em>looks</em> good from the outside and feels good at the outset:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">For the lips of a forbidden woman drip honey,<br />
and her speech is smoother than oil,<br />
but in the end she is bitter as wormwood,<br />
sharp as a two-edged sword.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>No one commits adultery because it looks so dreadful. People commit this sin— like every other—because it looks good. The trick, of course, is that it is <em>not</em>. The Proverb highlights the contradiction of sin powerfully: sin looks sweet, but proves bitter. It seems smooth, but only proves smoothly destructive as it slices away at everything you value. Sin always produces the opposite of what it promises. Adultery promises intimacy, but adultery <em>destroys</em> intimacy. Drugs promise liberated minds; instead they produce addiction. Covetousness promises satisfaction; instead it produces only an ever-gnawing emptiness. Sin is like a sweet-tasting infection that rots us from the inside out.</p>
<p>But it is more than that. Sin is not bad only because it proves so ruinous to us —though certainly it is bad for that reason. Sin is bad because it is high treason, because it is at its core a rejection of the good, the true, the beautiful in that it is a rejection of God in the exaltation of self. Sin is ruinous to us in part because it is the undoing of everything of what we are: beings made to worship the Triune God, instead kneeling to our own reflection in the mirror instead of the one we were meant to reflect.</p>
<p>But God is a righteous judge. He is holy. He does not tolerate sin. Psalm 5 puts it in sharp relief:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">For you are not a God who delights in wickedness;<br />
evil may not dwell with you.<br />
The boastful shall not stand before your eyes;<br />
you hate all evildoers.<br />
You destroy those who speak lies;<br />
Yahweh abhors the bloodthirsty and deceitful man.</div>
</blockquote>
<p>God detests sin.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> Not just the hot-button sin issues of our day (though those are not excluded), but our pettiness and jealousy, our deceptions great and small, our boasting and pride. We are <em>all</em> evildoers. And yet, wonder of wonders, we live still. Though God who made us and at whom we have all shaken our fists in rebellion would be perfectly within his rights to end us without a thought; he does not. He shows mercy. He forbears long. He waits to bring judgment.</p>
<p>He provides a way of escape. We, like David, can enter his house “through the abundance of [his] steadfast love.” That steadfast love, that covenant love, that almight love, has reached down and partaken of frail humanity and death and even of divine wrath, so that God might be glorified in his holiness. We are saved not because God is sentimental or sappy, but because he is righteous, and has already paid the price for our sins.</p>
<p>Hallelujah.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>And yes, sometimes also (even more sadly), “I don’t care; why shouldn’t I be happy?”<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>For more on all of this, I commend to you the <a href="http://www.sermonaudio.com/sermoninfo.asp?sermonID=15141146471">sermon</a> our primary preaching pastor delivered today.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Elijah and Elisha2014-01-04T23:45:00-05:002014-01-04T23:45:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-04:/2014/elijah-elisha.html<p>One cannot help but notice, reading through 1 and 2 Kings, how much Elijah and Elisha echo Moses and foreshadow the Messiah. They perform miracles that show up the limitations of other so-called deities, part the Jordan, make clean what was impure, give miraculous children, raise the dead, multiply food …</p><p>One cannot help but notice, reading through 1 and 2 Kings, how much Elijah and Elisha echo Moses and foreshadow the Messiah. They perform miracles that show up the limitations of other so-called deities, part the Jordan, make clean what was impure, give miraculous children, raise the dead, multiply food for a meal for the hungry.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> These men were prophets like Moses, but Israel knew that they were not <em>the</em> prophet like Moses that the first savior of Israel had promised.</p>
<p>Reading through these books, it is interesting that Israel was eagerly awaiting another prophet like Elijah when Jesus came. Indeed, it is interesting that a later prophet would speak of Elijah coming again. Reading through this material —which was originally all a single book covering all of 1 Samuel through 2 Kings—one would not necessarily be inclined to call Elijah the greater of the pair. Indeed, Elisha both asked for and apparently received a double portion of the miraculous gift that Yahweh had given to Elijah. The text records far more miracles performed by Elisha than by Elijah. (Indeed, most of that list above belongs to Elisha and not to Elijah.)</p>
<p>Clearly, though, there was something special about Elijah.</p>
<p>I think it was his passion for the name of Yahweh, and I think the text makes this abundantly clear. It is not that Elisha was <em>not</em> passionate for the glory of Yahweh; it is that this is the main (and nearly the only) thing in view in Elijah’s ministry. Elijah’s responsibility was to point the people to repentance for their sins and to show up false religion for what it was. This he did. He stood for the name of Yahweh under the threat of death and all alone. Other faithful Yahweh-worshippers though there were in Israel at the time, it was Elijah alone on the mountain confronting the four hundred priests of Baal, and he alone who saw the mighty hand of Yahweh raised in triumph against Baalism. He, like John the Baptizer, was the lone voice in the wilderness, calling the people of Israel back to God.</p>
<p>Elisha’s role was different: he was the man of miracles and the fierce judge. He did the greatest miracles recorded in the Bible prior to the coming of the Messiah; only in Jesus himself was there a greater provider, healer, or resurrector. He pointed to the greatness of Yahweh through these miracles; unlike Elijah, he did so in a time when many others worshipped Yahweh. He stood on Elijah’s shoulders, as it were.</p>
<p>I have often pondered over the last year or so that often it is the case that younger leaders can seem (and perhaps are) more effective than their elders— but that even when this is so, there is a foundation present <em>because</em> of the elders that is too easily overlooked. Many young men’s pastoral ministries are successful not only because of their own faithfulness, but because of the work of the pastors who preceded them. Many young men can be more doctrinally sound than or more effective preachers than their predecessors <em>because</em> of their predecessors. Elisha did his miracles in a land that had already seen Baalism humbled under fire from Yahweh. I do my writing, ministry (such as it is), and even thinking in the context set for me by faithful Christians who have gone before, women and men who have diligently sought Christ and laid a foundation on which I might build.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>To say nothing of cursing mockers to be attacked by bears, in one of the stranger passages in the old Testament.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Finding God in Proverbs2014-01-03T23:00:00-05:002014-01-03T23:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-03:/2014/finding-god-proverbs.html<p>One of the most helpful patterns I have developed in the last few years of Scripture reading is asking one simple question as I read: <em>What does this passage reveal about God?</em> There are many other questions—good, important questions—to ask of the text. But this one, I find …</p><p>One of the most helpful patterns I have developed in the last few years of Scripture reading is asking one simple question as I read: <em>What does this passage reveal about God?</em> There are many other questions—good, important questions—to ask of the text. But this one, I find, yields the most fruit. The Bible is not just a book of moral teachings, nor a mere practical guide for our lives. It is the revelation of the living God to his people.<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a></p>
<p>So what do we do when we get to, say, Proverbs? At first blush, the question seems a good deal less tractable here than in many other places. However hairy, most narratives <em>do</em> show us the character of God. Propositional content, whether in letters or sermons or parables or prophecies, likewise tends to make clear, succinct statements about the person and nature of God. The Proverbs, though? Well, sometimes they do, and sometimes they say things like, “Do not contend with a man for no reason, when he has done you no harm.” That’s helpful, to be sure, but when you first read it, it’s not obvious how that gets us back to God. We could try to hammer the Proverbs into some framework for understanding God, try to reduce their presence in the canon to a role in some theme or another.<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> In the end, though, any such reductive effort is going to run aground on the shoals of misunderstanding—quite the opposite of the intent of the author.</p>
<p>The Proverbs often show us God’s character sideways. If we believe that the counsel offered by the Proverbs really is wise—that the glowing promises here in Proverbs 3 of blessing, gain, and profit from wisdom are true, that there really is nothing better than to have understanding—then we believe that they are insights into reality. And reality was made <em>by God</em>:</p>
<blockquote>
<div class="line-block">Yahweh by wisdom founded the earth;<br />
by understanding he established the heavens;<br />
by his knowledge the deeps broke open,<br />
and the clouds drop down the dew. (Proverbs 3:19–20)</div>
</blockquote>
<p>If we then start asking good questions of the text we find very quickly that we do have a path back to the person and nature of God. For example: <em>why</em> should we not contend with a man when he has done us no harm? Well, we ought not do so because it will certainly stir up trouble, and we know God does not delight in strife. Moreover, picking a fight with someone without cause is unjust, and this same author has told us that wisdom comports with justice and righteousness, and that <em>God</em> is just.</p>
<p>Taking a further step back, we can ask why this proverb is included in the inspired Scriptures. Then we see even more: God cares about the way people interact with one another. He values human flourishing, and so has provided enormous guidance for us in the form of hundreds upon hundreds of practical insights into the way the world is. He delights in people so greatly that he crosses the boundary between transcendence and immanence to give us his very words.</p>
<p>It turns out there is an awful lot to learn about God in the Proverbs—even the ones that do no mention him.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>That final phrase, “to his people,” is an important one for all hermeneutics; reading the Scriptures with faith makes a difference. <a href="http://mereorthodoxy.com/">Matthew Lee Anderson</a> makes this point helpfully and at some length in his excellent <a href="http://www.amazon.com/End-Our-Exploring-Questioning-Confidence-ebook/dp/B00BUP1BQQ/?tag=krycho-20"><em>The End of Our Exploring</em></a>.<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>It is right here that many Biblical theologies—that’s a specific discipline in theology, though admittedly poorly named—go amiss.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>
Kings in Contrast2014-01-02T21:00:00-05:002014-01-02T21:00:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-02:/2014/kings-contrast.html<p>Tonight’s reading in 1 Kings, Psalms, and Proverbs had some surprising overlaps. The material in 1 Kings covered a series of kings whose courses were largely <em>away</em> from worshipping Yahweh and toward worshipping other gods. With only one exception, in fact, every single king listed in these five chapters …</p><p>Tonight’s reading in 1 Kings, Psalms, and Proverbs had some surprising overlaps. The material in 1 Kings covered a series of kings whose courses were largely <em>away</em> from worshipping Yahweh and toward worshipping other gods. With only one exception, in fact, every single king listed in these five chapters rejected the God of Israel in favor of the gods of the nations which the Hebrews had driven out of Canaan. That exception, Asa, stands in sharp contrast to the litany of rebellious kings who preceded and followed him as being a man who followed God with his whole heart. Others, it seems, included Yahweh in their list of gods to worship, but never reverenced him as supreme and only. This list of wicked kings of both Israel and Judah climaxes with the appearance of Elijah, the righteous prophet who confronts the <em>most</em> wicked king in the list, and who ultimately demonstrates Yahweh’s superiority over the other gods the Hebrews worshipped.</p>
<p>Proverbs 2 continues Solomon’s exhortation to seek wisdom wholeheartedly, and his corresponding encouragement that Yahweh gives wisdom to those who seek it. But Solomon did not stop with the idea that knowledge and understanding are good —though this he certainly affirms. Rather, he continued on to emphasize that God’s knowledge and discernment go hand in hand with his integrity and justice. Those who seek this wisdom walk in righteousness and justice and equity. A person of wisdom is kept safe from both evildoers and from doing evil him- or herself. That Solomon’s own line, beginning with his own son and continuing on down through every king but Asa in these chapters in 1 Kings, went so far astray indicates how little these words were heeded.</p>
<p>The picture painted by Psalm 2 stands in impossibly sharp contrast to these depraved kings. The Anointed One of the psalm is a messianic figure: those who take refuge in him find shelter, but those who rebel against him are broken under his rule. There is a king in view here who laughs at the rebellion of the rulers of every nation (Israel included), who scorns the folly of plotting against the Most High God. The king that Yahweh calls his Son will receive those same nations as his inheritance. He will be the king above all other kings. He will be both wrathful against rebellion and merciful to those who “take refuge in him” (v. 11–12).</p>
<p>So we have set before us the history of wicked men rebelling against the very God who gave them their thrones, and a call to that same line of the kings to humbly seek wisdom from that God, and a poetic picture of the true king against whom any rebellion is folly. And running through all of these are both the wrath of God against the folly and sin of those rebelling against him, and his mercy. Yahweh saves his people from following other gods in that magnificent confrontation on the mountain, Elijah on one side and the priests of Baal on the other. He is the source of wisdom, and the one who keeps his people from walking in folly or wickedness. And he is the righteous king who gives his people peace and security. Not because he does not do justice or cares little about sin, but precisely <em>because</em> he does justice and cares about sin. That Anointed One, that Son of the Most High, is Jesus Christ, who died in order that everything would be put under his feet. Every wicked king in 1 Kings points to the need for Jesus. He is the fulfillment of the wisdom promised in Proverbs 2. He is the Anointed One, the Son of Yahweh, who reigns the nations in righteousness. Hallelujah.</p>
A New Year of Devotions2014-01-01T23:25:00-05:002014-01-01T23:25:00-05:00Chris Krychotag:v4.chriskrycho.com,2014-01-01:/2014/new-year-devotions.html<p>I have found, over the years, that writing is a remarkably helpful tool for thinking through the things I am learning. I have also found that I am often better able to remain consistent in my study of Scripture if I am writing regularly about it. That could be in …</p><p>I have found, over the years, that writing is a remarkably helpful tool for thinking through the things I am learning. I have also found that I am often better able to remain consistent in my study of Scripture if I am writing regularly about it. That could be in a journal, or on a blog, or just about anywhere. In 2014, I am going to experiment with posting this writing on my blog —something I have done <a href="http://2012-2013.chriskrycho.com/theology/topics/devotions/index.html">before</a> to good effect for myself, and which a number of acquaintances seemed to like. After talking it through with my wonderful wife, I have set myself a limit of half an hour <em>total</em> devoted to writing these posts. Hopefully it will prove profitable.</p>
<hr />
<p>If it seems like 1 Kings 9–13 is a funny place to start this sort of thing, that’s because it is. But 1 Kings is where I am, and thus it is the place from which I will continue—I do not see a good reason to start over at the beginning <em>again</em> just a few months after having done so before.</p>
<p>A number of points stuck out at me as I worked through this passage. First, and most important, is one of the recurring themes of the whole book: the question of obedience to Yahweh,<a href="#fn1" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref1" role="doc-noteref"><sup>1</sup></a> and the consequences of rejecting him. From the promise God offers Solomon in chapter 9 through the death of a prophet in chapter 13, the issue is clear. Obedience to God brings everlasting favor, and disobedience brings death.</p>
<p>This is not exactly a new theme for the Bible as a whole: it shows up all the way back in Genesis 3. Nor does it stop here (nor even under the New Covenant with Christ): submission to God is characteristic of all who believe. Why? Not because God is some cruel dictator, but because he is both omniscient and omnibenevolent. He knows what is best for us. Defying his ways is like defying gravity: it might make for a <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlMBcTGJ4YM&name=DefyingGravity">catchy tune</a>, but the net result is always crashing hard to the ground.</p>
<p>So: Yahweh promised Solomon great things if he would simply follow him alone and not worship other gods. Solomon did exactly the opposite of what God had commanded the kings of Israel, though: he married multiple foreign women who themselves worshiped other gods,<a href="#fn2" class="footnote-ref" id="fnref2" role="doc-noteref"><sup>2</sup></a> and ultimately he built altars to and sacrificed to those other gods himself. We see the same thing in Jeroboam’s life: God made him promises of really marvelous import, if he would simply walk with Yahweh. Instead, as soon as he became king he led the people <em>away</em> from Yahweh, reasoning that Yahweh-worship was a threat to his own power, even though it was a prophet of Yahweh who had first told him all that would happen and that it was Yahweh who would do it. A righteous prophet ends up dead because he disobeyed God’s clear instructions.</p>
<p>In short: God means business, and we ought to pay attention when he commands us in a certain area. Again, not because he is a tyrant, but because he loves us and he is righteous. When we defy him, we are simultaneously wronging ourselves and committing cosmic treason. It’s a bad move, and he rightly responds in judgment. That, in turn, though, takes me back to his <em>decisive</em> act of judgment: the one the Godhead executed on itself, in the sacrificial, atoning death of Christ on my behalf. My motivation for obedience, then, is not only fear, but joyful gratitude.</p>
<p>It’s a good start to the year.</p>
<section class="footnotes" role="doc-endnotes">
<hr />
<ol>
<li id="fn1" role="doc-endnote"><p>I know it is a bit unusual to spell out the name of God used in the Old Testament like this, but it is my preference. I think it makes many passages much clearer to read Yahweh instead of <span style="font-variant: small-
caps">Lord</span>, and it’s simply what’s there in the original (even if the Jews historically have chosen not to say it—there’s something interesting here, but I shall pass over it today).<a href="#fnref1" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
<li id="fn2" role="doc-endnote"><p>Note that the reason for the prohibition on marrying foreigners was always religious, not ethnic. Solomon’s own lineage (and thus, Jesus’ too) includes several foreign women—each of whom worshiped Yahweh.<a href="#fnref2" class="footnote-back" role="doc-backlink">↩</a></p></li>
</ol>
</section>