Making His Story Our Story: Application from Old Testament Narrative

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Greg Trull

By Dr. Greg Trull, Dean of Ministries, Professor of Biblical Studies

Old Testament narrative, the story of God’s interaction and intervention with His people, cries out for proclamation today. Comprising nearly one-third of all Scripture, narrative represents the most common of the biblical genres.[1] The sheer bulk of it compels Bible teachers—whether in preaching or communicating Truth in a more informal setting—to give high priority to presenting it effectively. Further, contemporary audiences are more and more drawn to stories as means of understanding.[2] Their ability to captivate mind and heart oblige us to bring the stories of Scripture to bear on our hearers’ lives. Yet with this treasure of revelation often comes a trap.

By its very nature, narrative literature communicates subtly. Propositional statements do not thrust meaning to the surface. Instead, the message emerges from the story itself, through characterization, plot development, narrator comments and other tools in the writer’s box. Any story can presents this challenge, but biblical narrative carries additional complexity.

Inherent narrative subtlety melds with historical-cultural distance to multiply the potential misunderstanding of biblical story. Moses never logged on to CNN.com to read the latest on stem cell research. Our hearers have never had a priest assess the mold growing on the kitchen backsplash.(cf. Lev. 14:33-53) At times, it seems as if the two worlds never intersect. Yet they do. Our hearts cheer the underdog to slay Goliath, and grieve the loneliness that threatens widowed Ruth.

As Bible teachers—of children, teens, or adults—we cannot allow Old Testament narrative to remain enigmatic. We cannot acknowledge its power then ignore it because of its perplexity. We must proclaim the largest portion of the larger testament as part of the whole counsel of God. Neither can we proclaim it as stories of people like us in vastly different situations that may yield occasional practical tidbits. We must proclaim Old Testament narrative as authoritative and relevant for today.

The key question is, how can we insure that our message fulfills that purpose? A substantial part of the answer lies in how we develop contemporary applications from these ancient texts. We must help hearers accurately understand what the Bible says, and how God asks us to put it into practice.

In this article, we will look at five methods that can clarify our proclamation of Old Testament narrative, by strengthening the application construction. First, however, we will look at common approaches to determining Bible application, including conventional training and current common practice.

Conventional Approaches

The basic interpretation and application scheme common among evangelicals flows from the historico-grammatical approach. A Bible passage is studied and shared in the following progression: 1) world of the Bible; 2) main idea; 3) general theological principle; 4) specific application practice; 5) world of today.

In this model, the first step is to discover the main idea of the text, considering essential aspects such as word usage, grammar, syntax, genre, historical-cultural background and literary context. [3] The goal is to uncover and formulate the single main idea of the passage.

Once this is accomplished, the goal shifts to crafting this idea into a universal statement. [4] This statement serves as a bridge from text to today. It must be equally true for the original audience as it is true for us. Specific applications flow from this general principle. All applications in this model stem from the main principle. While this represents the accepted approach in the majority of interpretation and preaching books, much current biblical exposition does not consistently follow this pattern.

The handling of the David-Goliath account (1 Samuel 17) illustrates the gap between accepted theory and current practice. Most scholars understand the main thrust of this story to be part of the demonstration of God’s choosing and establishing David as king over Israel.[5] One would expect, then, that applications would flow from this main idea of God’s choosing and David’s establishment. Respected commentators, however, have suggested a wide range of options:

  • In reference to Goliath coming out to challenge Israel forty days: “How applicable to any ‘giant’ we encounter! That’s the way with the giants of fear and worry, for example. They don’t just come once; they come morning and evening, day after day, relentlessly trying to intimidate.”[6]
  • In reference to David choosing the five stones (17:50): “In my imagination I see David kneeling at the brook to select stones for his sling. The text doesn’t say he knelt…but he must have knelt to select the stones…. Are we going to live this life from our knees, imaginatively and personally?”[7]
  • On David’s conversation with Eliab, his brother (17:28-31): “David knew who to fight and who to leave alone. We need to choose our battles wisely.”[8]
  • On Saul not fighting Goliath: “When people are out of fellowship with God, they can lead others into defeat.”[9]
  • On David not taking Saul’s armor (17:38-39): “The way we do our work is as important as the work we do. Means must be authentic, true, appropriate to our prayers and proclamations.”[10]
  • On David’s trip to the battlefield: “David lived an ordinary life and armed himself with ordinary things…. Take some time to examine an ordinary day.”[11]
  • “Doing battle is a lonely experience. No one else can fight for you. Your Goliath is your Goliath.”[12]
  • On David taking Goliath’s sword (17:54): “Winning battles is a memorable experience. We’re to remember the victories of our past. We’re to pass on our lion-and-bear stories…our own Goliath victories.”[13]

If the main idea of the passage revolves around God’s work in establishing David on the throne, how can one account for this significant variety in application? Must all applications directly flow from the passage’s main idea and its appropriate abstractions?[14] Or do applications that ring true to our experience also reflect God’s authority? Acceptable exposition must not improperly restrict applications, yet it must not proclaim those lacking biblical authority.

Practical Methods for Balanced Application

The seeming disconnect between traditional approaches taught and current expositional practice reveals the need for more detailed examination of the balance needed in application development. On one hand, some preaching and teaching books develop the interpretation and delivery at length, yet deal little with the details of application.[15] In an alternate approach, others devote much discussion to the importance of connecting to the audience need, but do not demonstrate how to insure biblical accuracy in application.[16]

Following are five models for narrative application to help insure it carries the weight of biblical authority to the hearts of modern hearers, whether children, teens, or adults. The primary focus will be to demonstrate how applications can be validated biblically.

Each approach that follows builds on foundational exegesis—careful study and explanation of the text. The steps of interpretation provide all the raw material these models use to produce five types of application.[17]

Central Applications

The central source of validation for narrative application remains the key idea of the passage. Employing the above-mentioned standard tools of exegesis in conjunction with narrative-specific interpretive principles[18] will substantiate applications with biblical authority. These applications are supported in a sermon or other teaching by showing the specific results of interpretation. This foundational model follows a three-step progression: 1) textual support for main idea; 2) statement of single key idea; 3) specific applications from key idea.

Applications of this type are validated by biblical authority to the extent the expositor has rightly synthesized the main idea of the passage and has properly drawn the relevant applications from that idea. While this model effectively funnels the Bible text into a summary statement, which then can provide a solid basis for authoritative application, it may not provide the sole basis for authoritative application. As seen in the examples from the David and Goliath account, many applications made by expositors today clearly do not stem from the main exegetical idea. Does this mean that those applications carry no biblical weight? Can proper interpretation yield legitimate applications not directly flowing from the main idea? Perhaps with tweaking, the interpretive model itself can provide means for discovering and supporting other types of legitimate applications and eliminating illegitimate ones.

Pattern Applications

A second source of authoritative applications is the contextual setting of the narrative. A supporting element of a narrative may represent one thread in a pattern woven through a series of related narratives. The prevalence of the element suggests it plays more than a supporting role within a single biblical selection. In fact, the recurring element itself may contain an important message for the reader. This model may be considered in three elements: 1) related narratives; 2) recurring supportive elements; 3) pattern application.

An example of pattern application is seen in the contrast of reality and appearance in the account of David and Goliath. This aspect continues a theme already established in 1 Samuel. Hannah appeared to Eli to be drunk in the house of the Lord (1:14), but in fact she was appearing before Yahweh to voice her earnest plea (1:10-11). She was not drunk, but devoted. In chapter 9, Saul had a handsome appearance and literally stood out among the people because of his height (9:1-2). However, he had the heart of a spiritual midget. His height meant nothing as he desperately grasped for Samuel’s robe, begging him to worship with him so that Israel would believe Yahweh remained with Saul (15:26-31).

In fact, the mention of Saul as the biggest of the Israelites later subtly condemns him when he cowers before the biggest of the Philistines (17:4). Appearance also deceived in the case of Eliab, David’s oldest brother. Samuel saw his impressive stature and concluded that he was viewing the next leader of Israel (16:6). Eliab’s heart revealed, however, an angry coward (17:28-29). These elements served to highlight David’s underwhelming appearance, yet overwhelming heart for Yahweh (16:12; 17:45-47).[19]

Based on this latent pattern, a Bible teacher or preacher could rightly conclude that outward appearance often deceives in spiritual matters.[20] From this example, application may be drawn from supporting elements of a narrative. These aspects serve both to clarify the main idea and extend a pattern in the broader framework. Either can produce valid applications.

The weight of biblical authority for pattern applications is relative to the breadth of contextual support and to the correlation to broader biblical revelation.[21] The more contiguous narratives that contain the pattern and the more prominent the pattern in those narratives, the more confident we can be that application reflects biblical perspective.

Thematic Applications

Thematic application broadens the above pattern until it encompasses the whole of Scripture. Like pattern principles, thematic applications flow from supporting elements of a narrative rather than the main thrust. However, rather than drawing its validation from related narratives, a thematic application represents a recurring theme scattered throughout the Bible in otherwise unrelated passages. Thematic applications surface shared elements concerning the nature of life and humanity. These elements bridge cultural and covenantal gaps to connect all mankind. Their location in a variety of biblical contexts serves to prove their universal nature.

An example of a thematic application is the truism that bad things sometimes happen to good people. Scripture records the death of Abel, the imprisonment of Joseph, the catastrophic loss for Job, the sickness of Hezekiah, the famine that struck the church in Jerusalem, and many others. These disastrous events do not represent specific cause-effect formulas based on personal actions. In fact, the message of Job answers exactly the opposite.

They do show the Bible revealing a maxim in life. Sometimes good people are innocent victims of another’s sins (Abel’s murder by Cain, for example). Other tragedies become avenues of blessing from God (Joseph’s imprisonment). Still others are left without explanation in this life (Jerusalem famine). Believers today may not know why a particular tragedy has fallen upon them, but they can find encouragement from the multitude of biblical saints who have shared the path and found God’s grace at the end.

At this point, caution must be exercised concerning thematic applications. Often preachers or teachers mingle sage observations concerning life with biblical applications. In the David-Goliath examples noted previously, one expositor focused on the concept of remembering past victories. Substantiation of this idea could come from passages such as the command to memorialize the crossing of Jordan (Josh. 4:1-8) and the command for believers to memorialize the death of Christ (Luke 22:19). This may represent a legitimate thematic application.

Of the same David-Goliath story, another commentator offers the application of battle as a lonely experience. Everyone must fight their own Goliath. No one else can do it for them. This seems to be a wise observation from a mature believer, but not necessarily an application bearing the weight of biblical authority. In fact, the battle was supposed to be Saul’s to fight, yet David fought in his place (1 Sam.). David later says the battle was not his, but Yahweh’s (1 Sam. 17:47). Further, no biblical pattern exists that suggests that believers must face battles alone. In fact, Scripture highlights the necessity of the believing community supporting each other. So what seem to be two equally important statements in fact are one application distilling a theme throughout Scripture and another distributing a personal (though perhaps wise) opinion. Though both applications may find audience acceptance, our calling compels us to focus on principles that find root in Scripture.

Thematic applications carry biblical authority to the extent they represent a genuine broad-based motif. The more varied the historical, cultural and covenantal settings in which the thematic element is found, the more certain the application represents a universal theme.

Theological Applications

Though considered in this article as a separate category, theological applications essentially represent thematic applications stemming from the nature of God. Theological applications do not here refer to foundational theological affirmations of God’s holiness, sovereignty, etc. Rather they represent insights into His nature, especially in dealings with His people. Narrative often nuances foundational truths concerning God.

An example of a theological application is God’s tendency to choose a weaker or unexpected person to accomplish His work. Though the cultures of the biblical period gave highest honor and primary responsibility to the firstborn son in the family, God often overturned this cultural practice. Abel over Cain, Jacob over Esau, Joseph and David over their brothers, the list could go on. Further, God used shepherd Amos, fisherman Peter and murderer Paul to accomplish His great work. Woven extensively in biblical fabric are Jael, Josiah, Jonah and John Mark. For the blue-collar worker in the pew and the blue-blood academic in the university, the reality that God uses quite ordinary tools to accomplish quite extraordinary feats serves both to encourage and humble.

Theological application grants appropriate insight into God’s dealings to the extent that it echoes His ways throughout Scripture. Like thematic application, the more varied the settings of the occurrences, the more clearly the principle represents a biblical truism.

Illustrative Applications

Illustrative applications reverse the typical flow of Old Testament study and explanation. Normally an expositor moves from discerning the main idea in its original context to checking for agreement with broader biblical revelation. However, New Testament writers often began with spiritual virtues and turned to Old Testament narrative to exemplify them. The key aspect in the illustrative model is identifying and using appropriate points of comparison.

For example, Paul turned to Israel’s ignoble history to illustrate his warning for the Corinthians to avoid idolatry, immorality, and discontent (1 Corinthians 10:6-11). Also, the fact that long before Sinai, Abraham received righteousness through faith (Genesis 15:6) serves as a key piece of Paul’s argument for salvation through faith apart from the Law (Romans 4:9-15). The writer of Hebrews gathers a host of examples to demonstrate enduring faith in chapter eleven. An expositor focusing on the main idea in those Old Testament contexts might not come to the same applications as the New Testament authors did. However, these narratives do serve to illustrate key New Testament truths.

Some scholars have dismissed this application use as less than valid,[22] but two key passages demonstrate that Old Testament narrative can serve legitimate illustrative purpose. Paul writes in Romans 15:4 that the Scripture record was written for our spiritual benefit. The written events of the past serve to instruct and encourage believers so as to produce endurance that fosters our Christian hope. This statement follows Paul’s quote of Psalm 69:9, but broadens the significance to include all of the Old Testament.[23] Paul’s extensive illustrative use of the Old Testament and his general assertions concerning Scripture (i.e. 2 Tim 3:16-17) further bolster this perspective.

In the second key passage, Paul declares the value of examples specifically from Old Testament narrative. Twice in 1 Corinthians 10 Paul states that Old Testament narrative serves to guide believers by example:[24] “Now these things occurred as examples to keep us from setting our hearts on evil things as they did” (10:6 NIV) and later “These things happened to them as examples and were written down as warnings for us” (10:11 NIV). Paul here seizes the analogies of God’s people, Israel and Church, to warn his readers that evil can infiltrate the believing community with dire consequences. Paul’s purpose here was to make application by way of biblical illustration.

An example of modern illustrative application may be found in the Joseph narrative. Though the broad narrative focuses on Yahweh’s continued working out of His promise against numerous human obstacles, Joseph’s story in Potiphar’s house adds a human moral dimension. If the narrative only served to show how Israel became enslaved in Egypt or how Yahweh turned evil into good (cf. Gen 50:20), then the emphasis on Joseph’s sexual purity was superfluous. Instead, Judah’s immorality in chapter 38 served as a foil to highlight Joseph’s purity. Joseph stands as an admirable model of what the Law and the New Testament would later command (Exodus 20:14, 17; 1 Corinthians 6:18). A Bible teacher or preacher therefore may appropriately apply illustrations from Old Testament narrative.

The certainty of biblical authority behind an illustrative application, as noted above, depends upon the clarity of connection between the Old Testament example and the New Testament command. While the above Joseph narrative fittingly exemplifies the purity commanded elsewhere, some command-example links are not as lucid.

For example, Paul commands believers not to be drunk with wine (Ephesians 5:18), and the ancient Recabites maintained lives without wine for generations (Jeremiah 35:6). However, the command-example does not correspond rightly. Neither Ephesians nor the New Testament forbids drinking wine, while the order of the Recabites did. Further, the Recabites received honor from Yahweh because of honoring their father’s commands, not just because they refused wine (35:18). The commands included prohibitions on living in houses and planting fields as well (35:7). A Bible teacher or preacher must examine both Old and New Testament contexts to insure that behavior modeled in the narrative story accurately exemplifies the moral command.

The Need for Filters

Although the five methods discussed in this article can aid in discovering and evaluating potential narrative applications, some additional qualifiers must be added. For example, one could argue that Old Testament narratives present polygamy as a pattern. Many Old Testament saints had more than one wife and it passes seemingly without condemnation in the narrative. One could establish this substantial pattern and propose multiple personal applications! Even what seems to be a theme in a large number of narratives might not represent a biblical standard. To help in the assessment of possible applications, some filters must be employed.

In order to avoid abuse of application from Old Testament narrative, recognition of key differences between the testaments must be made. Beyond the above polygamy example, the prominence of war in the Old Testament could also lead to disastrous applications. One need only recall the Crusades. These differences necessitate filters to clarify narrative applications.

Covenantal Filter

Even if a substantial pattern exists (animal sacrifice for example), there may remain a factor that requires us to filter, or qualify in some way, the application. The filtering noted here involves distinguishing the timeless elements of the pattern (the necessity of vicarious sacrifice which is support throughout all of Scripture) from the covenant-specific elements (use of animals for sacrifice).

The very presence of two distinct testaments (Old and New) demonstrates a significant level of discontinuity between the covenants.[25] We must ask if the apparent application rising from the narrative has been shaped by the former covenant requirements. This not only includes animal sacrifice, but also practices such as ritual cleansing, land promises, Aaronic priesthood, and other elements unique to the Old Covenant.

Administrative Filters

Administrative filters are closely related to covenantal filters. The reality of the covenant differences between Israel and the Church require acknowledgement of how the associated administrative distinctions modify the proper application of certain Old Testament narratives. Not only do the covenants differ, the execution of them also differs.

Administrative differences include that fact that Israel represents a single national entity while the Church a universal entity. The relationship of Gentiles to Jews in the Old Testament starkly contrasts with their relationship in the New (Ephesians 2:11-3:13). Any application drawn from Old Testament narrative concerning Gentile and Jew relationships must reflect this change in association.

Further, Israel was a national-political entity where the Church stands as international and separate from human government.[26] Therefore, guides for a righteous national government within Israel must be applied through New Testament filters such as Romans 13. In the Old Testament, Jew and Gentile stood separated while religion melded with government. In the New Testament, Jew and Gentile unite while Christianity stands separate from human government.

This administrative filter addresses, for example, the issue of war in the Old and New Testaments. Because Israel was both a religious and national body, it fulfilled its God-ordained purposes at times through military means. Yahweh commanded the conquest of Canaan as part of the fulfillment of His promise to Abraham (Joshua 1:2-9). Israel also often called to arms to defend its territory. Nowhere in the New Testament, however, does God command the Church to militarily defend a physical land. In fact, Paul states that the Church’s enemies are not human, but spiritual in nature (Eph 6:12).

Revelational Filter

Certain elements of Old Testament narrative constitute a significant pattern or theme which might support authoritative application, but are qualified in some way by direct New Testament statements. These aspects stand outside the covenantal and administrative elements discussed above, but nevertheless meet modification in later revelation.

Leviticus 19:12 commands honest oaths that honor Yahweh. David provides a worthy example when he swears an oath of kindness to Jonathan’s family (1 Samuel 20:12-17) and then faithfully adheres to his promise (2 Samuel 9:1-7). Christ, however, raises this ethic to a new level. A believer’s speech is to be marked by such integrity and honesty that swearing an oath becomes unnecessary (Matthew 5:33-37).

Therefore, the reality of discontinuity between the testaments requires application filters. The process of validation unavoidably requires evaluation and sometimes elimination of potential application principles based upon revelational differences.

Conclusion

As Bible teachers and preachers, it is vital that we recognize the foundational, traditional exegetical goal of determining the central idea of the text in the original context. Yet it is also important to realize that elements of the interpretive process (contextual study for example) may serve not only to clarify the main idea, but also to suggest and support additional legitimate applications.

The five models discussed in this article call for a raised awareness of the interpretive process and its potential for producing application. They—along with the covenantal, administrative and revelational filters—serve as tools to assess applications, and sometimes eliminate the invalid, even if they seem insightful and acceptable to audiences. In proclaiming Old Testament narrative, as with all of Scripture, we must be diligent to insure that applications bear the weight of biblical authority.

 

Copyright © 2012 Corban University School of Ministry. Originally published in Corban’s e-journal, Dedicated. As long as you include this copyright credit line (and hyperlinks), you may reprint this article in its entirety.

[1] Daniel Block, “Tell Me the Old, Old Story” in Giving the Sense (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2003), p. 409.

[2] See the discussion of the power of stories and on narrative preaching (which is different than preaching from narrative) in Calvin Miller, “Narrative Preaching,” Handbook of Contemporary Preaching (Nashville: Broadman, 1992), pp. 103-116.

[3] For discussion, see Haddon Robinson, Biblical Preaching 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2001), pp. 66-70. Steven Mathewson (Art of Preaching the Old Testament Narrative, Baker, 2002, pp. 98-103) also follows this basic approach to application.

[4] Robinson breaks this step of the process down into formulating the homiletical idea and determining the sermon purpose. Biblical Preaching, pp 103-112.

[5] See for example, David Howard, Introduction to the Historical Books (Chicago: Moody, 1993), pp. 146-7; Ronald Youngblood, “1 Samuel,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, vol. 3 (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1992) p. 558; William LaSor, David Hubbard and Frederic Bush Old Testament Survey, 2nd ed (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), pp. 176-7.

[6] Charles R. Swindoll, David: Man of Passion and Purity (Nashville: Word, 2000), pp. 62-3.

[7] Eugene H. Peterson, Leap Over a Wall: Earthly Spirituality for Everyday Christians (San Francisco: Harper Collins, 1997), p. 40, 42.

[8] Swindoll, David, pp. 70-1.

[9] Warren Wiersbe, Expository Outlines of the Old Testament (Wheaton: Victor, 1993), accessed electronically through Libronix Digital Library.

[10] Peterson, Leap, p. 42.

[11] John R. Bisagno, Principle Preaching (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 2002), p. 87.

[12] Swindoll, David, p. 79.

[13] Ibid, p. 80.

[14] Haddon Robinson calls the principlizing process “a ladder of abstraction.” “Heresy of Application,” Leadership (Fall 1997), p 23. Cf. Walter C. Kaiser Jr., Toward Rediscovering the Old Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1987), p. 166.

[15] Mathewson’s work (Art of Preaching Old Testament Narrative) contains 260 pages of text, yet spends only pages 98-103 on developing application. Two of those pages decry poor application development. Also, recent chapters on preaching narrative focus on interpretive technique much more than application (Block and Kaiser in Giving the Sense. 409-454; Keneth Mathews, “Preaching Historical Narrative,” Reclaiming the Prophetic Mantle, ed. by George L. Klein [Nashville: Broadman, 1992], pp. 19-50).

[16] Principle Preaching by Bisagno best exemplifies this approach. He stresses that exegesis is important, but does not show how it drives the choosing of applications.

[17] Many books exist on basic exegesis. Good sources include Roy Zuck, Basic Bible Interpretation (Wheaton: Victor, 1991); Grant Osborne, Hermeneutical Spiral (Downers Grove: IVP, 1991); and Douglas Stuart, Old Testament Exegesis 2nd ed. (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1980).

[18] See Steven Mathewson, “Guidelines for OT Narratives” Bibliotheca Sacra 154 (Oct-Dec 1997): 410-435; V. Philip Long, The Art of Biblical History (Zondervan, 1994); Meir Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative (Indiana University Press, 1987); Walter Kaiser, “Narrative,” Cracking Old Testament Codes (Broadman & Holman, 1995), 69-88. Other good resources include Robert Alter Art of Biblical Narrative (Basic Books, 1981); Leland Ryken and Tremper Longman, Complete Literary Guide to the Bible (Zondervan, 1993); and Robert Alter and Frank Kermode, The Literary Guide to the Bible (Belknap Press, 1987).

[19] The Hebrew term here translated “youngest” (קָטָן), may also be translated “smallest,” providing a contrast to the physically larger brothers and more subtly to the failed king Saul. See “קָטָן” NIDOTTE 3:910-912.

[20] The basis of this application is significantly strengthened by the fact that Yahweh voices this principle to Samuel at the choosing of David (1 Sam 16:7).

[21] Correlation to broader biblical revelation and other qualifiers will be discussed under “Application Filters.”

[22] Compare David Deuel’s comments in “Suggestions for Expositional Preaching of Old Testament Narrative” (Master’s Seminary Journal vol. 2 no. 1, Spring 1991), pp. 45-60.

[23] For elaboration, see Everett Harrison, “I Corinthians,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, 152 and Gordon Fee, I Corinthians New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), pp. 199-200.

[24] Some scholars see the meaning of tuvpoi as referring to more than examples or analogies, understanding instead that the OT events typologically prefigured the believers at Corinth. See John Murray, Romans, NICNT, pp. 451-453 for discussion.

[25] For further discussion, see Elliott Johnson Expository Hermeneutics (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1990), pp. 245-254; John and Paul Feinberg, Ethics for a Brave New World (Wheaton: Crossway, 1993), pp. 34-40; and John Feinberg, ed. Continuity and Discontinuity (Wheaton: Crossway, 1988).

[26] Related issues such as theonomy are discussed in the works cited for discontinuity in the previous endnote.

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I Ain’t Comin’ Back

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Jack Willsey

By Dolphus Weary and William Hendricks, Tyndale House Publishers, 1990 and 1997 (special printing).

Reviewed by Dr. Jack K. Willsey, Professor of Systematic Theology and World Missions

Vital issues and the writings that describe them are often forgotten with distance and the passage of time. Two such issues are poverty and racism, and one such book is I Ain’t Comin’ Back, by Dolphus Weary. Too few people know about the kind of ministry he describes, and far too few have read this book. Although it has been published for many years, it remains an outstanding work addressing poverty and racial conflict in the United States, and Christian responses to those evils.

The title of the book comes from the promise Weary made to himself as a black child growing up in rural Mississippi in the ‘50s and ‘60s, “Someday I’m leavin’ Mississippi, and I ain’t never comin’ back.” His book tells the story of how, after he did leave to attend Los Angeles Baptist College on a basketball scholarship, God led him back to work toward hope and reconciliation for both blacks and whites.

This compelling narrative gives the reader a strong sense of the interrelated tragedies of poverty and racial conflict in the rural South. It also illuminates the indifference and ignorance of many evangelical Christians in other regions. Although conditions have improved greatly since the days of the civil rights movement, the hard work of reaching both blacks and whites with the gospel and meeting basic human needs continues.

The story of God working through Weary and his wife Rosie provides a structure for reflection on a theology of poverty, race, social responsibility, and contextual evangelism. Many books present theories regarding these topics. This writing, however, offers a vivid description of God’s grace at work through one family committed to finding practical solutions to what looked like unchangeable human misery and defeat.

The story should be read in its entirety, so only a few highlights will be mentioned here. Especially poignant is Weary’s description of his experiences as one of the first two black students at an otherwise all-white college, in an all-white California town. He tells of his bewilderment and sorrow upon hearing students cheer and shout with glee at the news that civil rights leader and advocate of nonviolent resistance, Martin Luther King, had been assassinated. I remember well, as a young man also living in California at the time, observing that same reaction from many Christians. (Dr. King and other civil rights activists had been falsely labeled as Communists and threats to national security, at a time when international Communism was considered the greatest danger to America and to Christianity.)

Weary continued his studies at Los Angeles Baptist Theological Seminary. During that time, he learned to move beyond his childhood reticence to engage in discussions with white people and confront the prejudices and cultural presuppositions of other students. He wondered if his activism made a difference, or “… would the churches keep on looking at poverty and injustice and say that they were someone else’s fault and therefore someone else’s responsibility?”

A key figure in the story is John Perkins, founder of Voice of Calvary Ministries and Mendenhall Ministries, in the very place where Weary was raised. It was through Perkins’ ministry that Weary came to faith in Jesus Christ. Through Perkins’ mentorship, Weary was encouraged to study the Bible and prepare for ministry. Perkins suffered greatly from white resistance, including being jailed, beaten almost to death, falsely charged with various crimes, and hounded by a prejudiced legal system. He authored influential books such as Let Justice Roll Down and With Justice for All. Seattle Pacific University recently established the John Perkins Center for Reconciliation, recognizing his example in promoting a biblical concept of justice and racial harmony. It was to Perkins’ ministries that Weary returned, in the place he had declared he would never live again.

Weary and his wife Rosie have begun a new ministry, the Rural Education and Leadership Christian Foundation. He has another book to be released in June 2012, Crossing the Tracks: Hope for the Hopeless and Help for the Poor in Rural Mississippi and Your Community. Rosie recounts her own experiences and struggles in a recently released memoir, Stepping Out from the Shadows. These books contain stories that must not be ignored nor forgotten. They are available at www.realchristianfoundation.org

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Jim and Casper Go to Church: Frank Conversation about Faith, Churches, and Well-Meaning Christians

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Karen Pease

By Jim Henderson, Matt Casper, and George Barna. Tyndale Publishing, 2006, paperback available March 2012.

Reviewed by Karen Pease, Director of Admissions, Corban University School of Ministry

Ever since I was old enough to remember, I had the desire to walk a mile in someone else’s proverbial shoes. As I grew, I developed relationships with people from different backgrounds, adding to my curiosity about what life would be like if I saw the world from their point of view.

Enter Matt Casper, self-proclaimed atheist and co-author of Jim & Casper Go to Church. The book is the brainchild of long-time Christian, Jim Henderson, who wanted to see what church looked like from the eyes of the very people most churches were trying to reach – the un-churched. The inside cover reads, “Most Christians have been immersed in church culture for so long that they have no idea how non-Christian guests might interpret what they see and hear at a worship service, or what might inspire them to come back.”

Henderson and Casper spent the better part of summer 2006 visiting numerous evangelical churches and recording impressions of each. Rather than interviewing church leaders, surveying members or leafing through doctrinal statements, they simply recorded their own subjective observations of Sunday morning services in an attempt to capture the perspective of a first time visitor. Their reasoning was that most attendees did not follow up with anyone to verify their own assumptions.

Overall, the book is a good read. The chapters are long enough to cover in depth each of the twelve churches visited, but are short enough to be engaging and memorable. Henderson does a great job of encouraging Casper to be brutally honest, without feeling the need to temper Casper’s comments with a Christian explanation. Although this aspect of the book has received negative feedback from some reviewers, it is actually a critical component of why the book was written – to hear how an atheist, not a Christian, responds to church.

So, what does “Casper the Friendly Atheist” think? Well, many of his candid comments are actually surprising – especially his reactions to certain elements of church services designed with the “seeker” in mind – like fog machines, multiple screens, PowerPoint and tons of lights. Casper asks Henderson, “… is that what Jesus told you guys to do? Put on a Christian rock show that’s visually and sonically indistinguishable from a non-Christian rock show, change the words, and call it church? Is that pulled from the Bible?” Casper makes similar remarks about some of the preaching (irrelevant and lacking a call to action), the collection of money (often seen as a blatant way to line the preacher’s pocket), and the congregants (they seem disconnected and lacking in genuine fervor), revealing a deeper sensitivity to biblical standards than that of some Christians.

It is also interesting to see what moves Casper. In nearly every case, it boils down to a meaningful interaction or genuine relationship with another person. At one point, he tells Henderson that the most significant part of the day was listening to his story as they shared a cup of coffee after church. That impacted him more than anything in the church service.

One of the most rewarding elements of the book is the way the dialogue between the two authors reflects its overall intent – to inspire Christians to respect individuals who believe differently. Each author shares his perspective freely, and in doing so, the two become very good friends. Additionally, both Henderson and Casper admit their viewpoints are subjective and are not meant to represent entire people groups. In the end, the book accomplishes its goal of encouraging believers to protect their relationships with non-Christians, and to see them as real people, not targets. Henderson says, “I think of it like this: They’re just like me, except they’re not currently interested in Jesus to the same degree I am.”

In the midst of these praiseworthy elements lies one drawback – the book’s concentration on mega churches. While such congregations certainly cast their shadow over America, they are far from a typical cross-sampling. It is unfair to categorize “most churches in America” as being like the ones represented in this book. Henderson, however, explains that the limited scope of the churches visited is due to lack of resources, an aspect the authors hope to rectify in a subsequent publication.

Jim and Casper is not a handbook on developing the perfect seeker-friendly church service, nor does it claim to be. Readers looking for strategies that will result in a higher number of atheists coming to Christ will be sorely disappointed. But, the book does offer keen insights about what matters to the un-churched – sincere friendship and respect from people who hold vastly different worldviews. The authors note this will mean living by Jesus’ words in Luke 6:31, doing for others as we would like them to do for us. That may just include walking a mile in their shoes.

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Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream

Posted on January 30, 2012 by Paul Johnson

By David Platt, Multnomah Books, 2010.

Reviewed by Dr. Paul Johnson, Assistant Professor of Missions

Author David Platt issues a bold challenge to Christians: embrace the radical faith Christ calls believers to pursue, not just a life based on the American dream. Platt, pastor of The Church at Brook Hills in Birmingham, Alabama, asserts that the American dream mindset is prevalent in many churches today, noting how success is measured by “bigger crowds, bigger budgets, and bigger buildings.” In comparison to the teaching of the gospels, he observes, “American churches have embraced values and ideas that are not only unbiblical, but that actually contradict the gospel we claim to believe.”  He invites readers to journey with him, and discover satisfaction in life and success in the church not in some version of the American dream, but in radical abandonment to the Person and teaching of Jesus.

To describe the “American dream,” Platt quotes James Truslow Adams, who coined the phrase in 1931, “A dream … in which each man and woman shall be able to attain to the fullest stature of which they are innately capable, and be recognized by others for what they are.” Platt contends that the American dream contains a “dangerous assumption” that leads the undiscerning believer to pursue a “deadly goal.” The assumption is that meaning in life revolves around what a self-sufficient individual can achieve by trusting in his or her own ability and effort. The fatal goal is that believers will pursue the American dream and live to achieve their desires through their own efforts, attributing whatever is gained to their own glory. Platt states the goal of the American dream, therefore, “… is to make much of ourselves.” He claims the American dream and a life of obedience to Christ are ultimately antithetical because the goal of the Christian life is to make much of God.

Platt provides an important discussion on the nature of salvation. He describes how it is often presented as a one-time decision to receive forgiveness and the assurance of an eternity in heaven. He argues that believers are not saved just to go to heaven, but to radically abandon everything else to know and serve Christ and His purposes. He describes how God blesses people with His abundant grace so His glory is known and He is worshipped by all peoples. When we are deceived into believing that Jesus just died for us personally, Platt says we “disconnect the grace of God from the glory of God.”  The message “God loves me enough to send his son Jesus, to die for me” is incomplete. Platt claims biblical Christianity does not make us the objects or the end of our own faith, but that God and His glory is the end of our salvation.

The author describes how this radical faith begins with a proper understanding of what it means to be a disciple. He explains that genuine, committed, self-sacrificing followers of Christ are made through an intentional, slow, life-transforming process. It develops through the community of believers who love each other and share life together. Platt asserts that the Christian version of the American dream “disinfects” believers from the disciple-making plan by isolating them from others, and teaching them that the goal of life is to be good. He contends that teaching Christians to grow as Christ’s disciples involves propelling them into the world to risk their lives for the sake of others. Success is gauged not by buildings and programs, but by those engaged in the world to make more disciples.

According to Platt, the gospel and the lordship of Christ should radically transform the way believers understand and use their wealth. He describes how affluence and materialism can create a blind spot for many of us. He says there is reason to question the salvation of a person whose life does not reflect radical compassion for the poor. He cites examples from saints in the past, as well as from several in his own congregation, who sacrificially gave of their resources—helping children through foster care, and investing resources in projects around the world to aid the poor and hurting. The goal is not simply to meet a temporary need, but to exalt the glory of Christ and express the gospel through bold generosity.

Platt invites readers to participate in “The Radical Experiment,” to “see if radical obedience to the commands of Christ is more meaningful, more fulfilling, and more gratifying than the American dream.”  He challenges believers to make five commitments for an entire year:  1)Pray for the whole world, that God’s purpose would be accomplished; 2)Read through the Bible; 3)Sacrifice money for a specific purpose; 4)Spend time in another context (culture); 5)Be committed to a multiplying Christian community. The author maintains that through this process, a life of obedience and discipleship will develop, founded on abandonment to Christ rather than the American dream.

Platt challenges believers to follow Jesus for the sake of the world. He calls us to live the life we were saved to live, and discover our destiny in unwavering obedience. Anyone who desires to make an impact for the Lord will be challenged and blessed by the message of Radical.

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Seeing Clearly

Posted on October 10, 2011 by Greg Trull

By Dr. Greg Trull, Dean of Ministries, Professor of Biblical Studies

During my first semester of seminary, I began having regular headaches, and not just during Greek vocabulary quizzes. By the end of a long day of classes, I felt like my head was going to split. Was there not enough room for canonization, contextualization and Calvinism in my tiny brain? Was Mom right that I had watched so much Cowboy football and Three Stooges that my mind had rotted? Was I allergic to hermeneutics?

My family doctor sent me for a brain scan. It revealed nothing. Maybe Mom was right. Eventually my doctor sent me to an eye specialist. Understanding we needed to check off all possibilities, I kept the appointment. “My doctor just wants to eliminate any eye problems,” I said to the ophthalmologist. “I have perfect vision.”

The doctor’s wrinkly smile belied his many years of experience. He turned out the lights, leaving a single spot on the opposite wall. “Please read the second line.” I looked at the gray glowing blob and laughed, “That’s a good one doc, very funny.”

He replied, “That’s the line you need to see to get a driver’s license in this state, smart guy.”

I quickly realized he wasn’t joking. My eyes were the pranksters. He adjusted a set of lenses and the fog became an eye chart. Soon I traded in my headaches for a pair of glasses.

How was I supposed to know? I had seen the world the same way my whole life. I needed someone to help me find clarity. We all do.

I’m delighted to bring you three lens adjustments in this issue of Dedicated. Jack Willsey reviews Church in the Present Tense, a collection of essays that seeks to illuminate the murky issue of the emergent/emerging church. Mark Jacobson takes a fresh look at a familiar passage on walking by the Spirit. Lee Ann Zanon examines Moses’ call to help us view our own callings more clearly. So pick up your reading glasses if you need them, and take a look.

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Church in the Present Tense: A Candid Look at What’s Emerging

Posted on October 10, 2011 by Jack Willsey

Church in the Present Tense: a Candid Look at What’s Emerging

Edited by Kevin Corcoran, with articles by Scot McKnight, Peter Rollins, Kevin Corcoran, and Jason Clark, Brazos Press, 2011.

Reviewed by Dr. Jack K. Willsey, Professor of Theology

I am often frustrated by questions about what I think of the emerging church movement. There is so much variety within the movement, with both traditional and radical elements, that the questions cannot be answered without much explanation and many disclaimers. Church in the Present Tense provides a helpful resource for understanding and evaluating that diversity. A collection of eight essays, it is divided into four sections: philosophy, theology, worship, and Bible and doctrine, with two chapters in each. Available in e-book or print form (including a DVD of interviews with key figures), it gives the reader a good sense of the wide range of ideas and practices covered by the popular term, emerging church, along with opportunity to reflect on key issues.

In the introduction, editor Kevin Corcoran gives an excellent, succinct description of the emerging movement, as well as the content of the book. He then provides an essay in the first section: “Who’s Afraid of Philosophical Realism? Taking Emerging Christians to Task,” followed by, “Thy Kingdom Come (on Earth): An Emerging Eschatology,” in the theology section. Professor of philosophy at Calvin College, Corcoran writes clearly about the epistemological choices and present-oriented focus of many emerging Christians.

He is especially helpful in arguing for a path between the extremes of modernist realism and postmodern antirealism: “There is no need to embrace the creative antirealism so often associated with postmodernism when the resources for epistemic humility[1] are present in the Christian tradition itself.”  He represents his own position as embracing “chastened realism.” His second essay is largely descriptive of the emerging tendency toward realized eschatology. He detects a strong emphasis on God’s kingdom as present in a full sense, even among non-Christians. This may, in some cases, include an openness to soteriological universalism.

Peter Rollins (founder of Ikon, an emerging collective in Belfast, Northern Ireland) writes the two most philosophically oriented articles in the collection: “The Worldly Theology of Emerging Christianity” and “Transformance Art: Reconfiguring the Social Self.” The positives in his essays include discussion of the way our environment shapes who we are and become, often without our awareness. He emphasizes the need to “place that world into question” and to learn to create new contexts for transformed lives—what he calls “transformance art.” Negatively, many of his concepts involve hermeneutical ambiguity and undemonstrated social assumptions. While his emphasis upon transformed living within the world—as the antidote to an “ironic stance” of saying one thing and doing another—is well-founded, some of his practical solutions are unnecessarily radical.

The negative influence of popular culture upon Christian thought and practice is the topic of Jason Clark’s essays, “Consumer Liturgies and Their Corrosive Effects on Christian Identity” and “The Renewal of Liturgy in the Emerging Church.” His concerns grow out of his experience as a church planter and pastor in England. (He is also an adjunct professor at George Fox Evangelical Seminary, and coordinator of the Emergent UK online resource network.)

As the titles of his essays suggest, he critiques the commodification of church life through the structural commercialism of western society, which creates a secular liturgy that controls the rhythms and focus of life. How to create real Christian space within the dominant culture is the intriguing question raised in the first essay. The surprising answer in the second essay is a return to church liturgy, “Without a recovery and understanding of liturgy we are in danger of a collapse of ecclesiology and church into solipsistic worship aesthetics and private God spaces.”

Although a pastor in the “low church” tradition, Clark makes a strong argument for the importance of sacred liturgy in Christian formation that focuses life on a pace and rhythm (he prefers the term flow) designed “to shape us and mold us in the image of Christ.” This includes a short-term catechism and emphasis upon doing (service), knowing (history and identity of the Christian church), and being (reflection). He states, “…the aim of Flow is the liturgical stabilization and formation of Christian identity in the face of the liturgies and demands of consumer culture and formation.”

The book’s entire fourth section is written by the well-known and much-published New Testament scholar, Scot McKnight, professor at North Park University in Chicago. In the first essay, “Scripture in the Emerging Movement,” McKnight describes five common ways of misreading the Bible, then uses the concept of linguistic turn to argue for reading each text of Scripture as a wiki-story[2] of the one Story which lies behind the individual wiki-stories. He offers this as one of the emerging ways of reading the Bible—the one which he supports. The underlying principle of his approach is that language is capable of telling the truth, but not the whole truth. Thus the various biblical writers must be allowed to tell a part of the greater story in language suited to their contexts. This view of language also demands epistemic humility in interpretation of the stories.

McKnight’s second essay, “Atonement and Gospel,” raises an issue with which theologians in the emerging movement are admittedly struggling: How are gospel and atonement theories to be related? He skillfully illustrates the problem within evangelicalism by pointing out that Reformation language has changed the essentially narrative form of the gospel into a plan of salvation. The problem, he argues, is that this changes the gospel story into an explanation of how the gospel events provide atonement.

In his understanding, the latter is not unimportant, but the former is primary. Given the current debate raging among evangelicals over the doctrine of justification, this discussion is an important contribution. McKnight suggests that most emerging thinkers tend to prefer the story, and struggle with the explanation(s).

The DVD which accompanies the print edition of the book is interesting as a means of hearing from a number of influential leaders, including Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams and Brian McLaren, as well as viewing some representative communal meetings. It is disappointing, however, that the clarity found in the essays is sadly missing and some of the casual statements made in interviews are disconcertingly vague. I recommend reading the book before viewing the DVD.

[1]The term epistemic humility refers to recognition of human limitation in knowing and understanding reality, without accepting the antirealist claim that an adequate grasp of reality is beyond creaturely capacity.

 

[2] McKnight does not define this term, but clearly intends it as an analogy to the collaborative contributions of many sources to a larger work, such as the wikis compiled by students in on-line courses or the open-sourced Wikipedia.

 

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Spirit-Powered Living: A Positive Interpretation of Galatians 5:16-18

Posted on October 10, 2011 by Lee Ann Zanon

By Dr. Mark A. Jacobson, Assistant Professor of Systematic Theology

“What chance does a believer have of staying faithful to the Lord, living a godly life, and avoiding the spiritual shipwrecks that seem to be all too common today?”  If my question hints at resignation, even despair, it is because so many believers have succumbed to sin, making decisions to disobey God and reject wise counsel. They have damaged their own reputations, some irreparably, and dishonored the cause of Christ.

We all know it is difficult to resist temptation; we all know the shame and disappointment when we give in.  We sympathize with Paul when he—yes even he—says, “I buffet my body and make it my slave, lest possibly, after I have preached to others, I myself should be disqualified.” (1 Cor. 9:27)  Living a life characterized by obedience is not easy.  What we do not need, however, is preaching and teaching that makes it worse, that leaves the impression that continuous sin and failure are inevitable, even normal for the Christian.

Too many sermons and writings imply that the Christian life is so fraught with temptations—that Satan is so crafty and we are so weak—it is highly questionable whether any believer, especially someone in full-time ministry, will make it through life without falling victim to grievous sin.  Paul addresses this very issue in Galatians 5:16-18. At first glance, he appears to agree—the Spirit and the flesh are engaged in such a fierce battle that “you may not do the things that you please.” (v. 17)  However, an in-depth look at the text, along with other Scripture passages, reveals a very different point of view.

The theme of Galatians 5:16-18, and the surrounding context of verses 13-25, demonstrate that the normal Christian life is a godly one, characterized by righteousness rather than sin.  Not only can we live a godly life, it is only normal that we do.  This article argues that although we are not free from the presence of sin, we do not need to be defined and dominated by it.  Rather, we can live victoriously over it,[1] and remain faithful to the Lord.

The Starting Point

Verse 16 begins, “But I say, walk by the Spirit.”  The “but” confronts the contentiousness plaguing the churches in Galatia at the time Paul was writing to them, noted in the previous verse, “But if you bite and devour one another, take care lest you be consumed by one another.” (v. 15)

Paul returns to this problem at the end of the chapter, “If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit.  Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another.” (vv. 25-26)  Rather than presenting a detailed discussion of the reasons for this nasty state of affairs, it is sufficient to say that pressures the first Christians felt as they engaged the critical issue of Gentile observance of Torah stirred up highly volatile emotions.  The discord was serious enough to catch Paul’s attention, resulting in his well-known contrast between the works of the flesh (note the many synonyms for contentiousness) and the fruit of the Spirit (note the synonyms for harmonious living) in vv. 19-23.

Paul confronts his readers with their uncharitable behavior, letting them know it is not normal for those who claim to have received the Spirit (3:2), that is, for those who are saved.  We find here certain expressions he customarily used to denote those who were saved.  Used somewhat synonymously in 5:16-26 are: “walk by the Spirit” (v. 16), “led by the Spirit” (v. 18), “live by the Spirit” (v. 25) and “walk by the Spirit” (in v. 25, “walk” is different in the Greek than in v. 16).

Paul pairs the imperative “walk by the Spirit” in verse 16 with “live by the Spirit,” and the passive “led by the Spirit” in verses 18 and 25. These indicate that they are his way of defining salvation in pneumatological terms.  In christological terms, believers “belong to Christ” (v. 24).  To “walk in the Spirit” is the normal condition of those who “live in” and who are “led by” the Spirit.  The basis for Paul’s urging the Galatians to quit their bickering and fighting is that those who are led by the Spirit need only live out the natural consequence of the new spiritual life they possess—a life of godliness.

The Natural Consequence

The language of the second half of v. 16, “and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh,” is emphatic in the original language.  That is, Paul sets the Spirit in complete opposition to the flesh.  A consideration of several authors’ insights is valuable here. F.F. Bruce rightly paraphrases it, “ … ‘and you will by no means fulfill the desire of the flesh.’ ”[2]  J.B. Lightfoot expresses Paul’s thought even more clearly, “Walk by the rule of the Spirit.  If you do so, you will not, you cannot, gratify the lusts of the flesh.”[3]   Ronald Fung speaks of the “… inevitable result of life lived by the Spirit,”[4] that we will not carry out the desire of the flesh.

Timothy George connects the promise to the experience of the Galatians:

“Paul had earlier reminded the Galatians of how they received the Holy Spirit upon hearing him preach the message of Christ and His cross (3:1-3).  Here he was exhorting them to continue the walk they had begun on that occasion.  If they continued to walk in the Spirit, they would not be halted by the fleshly appeals of the Judaizers, their own libertine tendencies, or the debilitating disputes within their churches.”[5]

As mentioned before, Paul specifically has in mind the anger, contentiousness, and fighting that threatened to tear the churches asunder (vv. 13-15).  These are incompatible with true Christian faith; this is not how Christians normally act.  Can we behave in this manner?  Of course we can, and we do.  Who among us has not had to endure the bickering and fighting related to “music wars,” or other highly contentious debates in our churches?

The point is, however, that no one should say, “Well, this kind of behavior is normal for us Christians; this is just the way we are.  Try as we might, we will fail.”  In some of our darker moments, it may seem like that is the case, but Paul never takes this view.  Living in and being led by the Spirit supernaturally produces a life of obedience to God in general, and specifically in this case, a life demonstrating love for one another (v. 14 and the emphasis on love in the fruit of the Spirit, vv. 22- 23).

The Question of “Flesh”

Verse 17 states, “For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please.

Paul’s varied use of “flesh” is important. In v. 13, it has the connotation of the sinful nature, while in v. 25 “flesh” appears to be another way of referring to the “old man” of Romans 6:6, since both have been crucified.  If so, “flesh” in Gal. 5:24 represents the life of the Galatians before coming to Christ.  This also makes good sense of “the deeds of the flesh” in vv. 19-21a, since “those who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.” (v. 21b)

Thus, the contrast inherent in the “fruit of the Spirit” and “the deeds of the flesh” was not intended by Paul to distinguish an obedient Christian from a disobedient Christian; the issue goes much deeper.  Paul is suggesting that if these works of the flesh characterize the Galatian believers, they have no reason to think that they are saved.  Because vv. 16-17 introduce vv. 19-21, very likely the same contrast is intended in these verses.  Even if this interpretation is granted, which is debatable, a problem still remains with the final clause, “so that you may not do the things that you please.”  To what does this refer?  Does it mean that we are not able to do the good things that we want to do?  Or does it mean that we are not able to do the sinful things that we want to do?  Or both?

The answer rises from the next verse.  Whatever the thought of v. 17 is, it supports the principle of v. 16 (“for”), thus carrying the thought forward, instead of contradicting it.  C.F. Hogg and W.W. Vine take this approach, arguing that v. 17 confirms the declaration of v. 16.[6]  To do that, they must interpret the latter part of the verse in a way that is opposite the way this passage is often preached.

According to their interpretation, Paul is not saying that in the tug-of-war between the flesh and Spirit it is a toss-up as to which is the stronger and which will prevail.  In v. 16 Paul states emphatically that life in the Spirit leaves absolutely no room for the kind of life that we had before we were saved.  In v. 17, Paul explains why that is the case: the flesh and the Spirit are so diametrically opposed to each other that to walk by the Spirit means that we will not, can not, do the things that we otherwise would if we were controlled by the flesh.  Ben Witherington agrees:

“It is important to stress that the context here is positive, especially in view of the second half of v. 16, and furthermore Paul certainly does not think that the Spirit and the flesh are equal powers in the Christian’s life, or in the life of the Christian community.  It must be remembered that in Paul’s own earlier argument he stressed that the Galatians had already started in the Spirit, and he was warning them against finishing or bringing the Christian life to a conclusion in the flesh. (3.3)  Gal. 5:16ff  is a further development of this earlier idea introduced by way of rhetorical question.  The context therefore suggests it is unlikely that Paul is here speaking of the flesh frustrating the following of the Spirit’s lead or of a stalemate of flesh and Spirit.”[7]

An argument supporting this line of reasoning is the significance of the contrast between Spirit and flesh in Pauline thought.  Charles B. Cousar removes the contrast from the realm of the inner nature of the Christian to that of the forces at work in the world, an eschatological, salvation-history perspective.

“'[F]lesh,’ precisely because of its polarity to the Spirit, becomes associated with the old age, the field of force invaded by the Spirit . . . .  It is misleading in this context to translate sarx (“flesh”) as “lower nature” (NEB), “sinful nature” (NIV), or “human nature” (TEV), as if it were an anthropological term, implying that the individual is divided into two parts, a spiritual nature and a fleshly nature.  Instead, the Spirit and the flesh are two powers engaged in an apocalyptic combat, with the battlefield being the Galatian congregation.”[8]

In a similar context, that dealing with the Law, Paul develops the Spirit-flesh contrast in the way that Cousar has suggested.  In Romans 8:1-11, Paul is clearer that “Spirit” has to do with the realm of the saved and “flesh” with the realm of the unsaved.  While it is not as clear here, one can see the saved-unsaved contrast surface in v. 21, as was just mentioned.  Those who do the works of the flesh cannot excuse their behavior because they are immature, carnal Christians.  Paul does not give them this option.  If these things characterize their lives, they have good reason to question their profession to have received the Spirit.

The interpretation that v. 17 confirms the meaning of v. 16, while it fits nicely with the overall thrust of 5:16-25, still leaves questions. One is the fact that Paul says that Spirit and flesh oppose each other “so that you may not do what you want.”  Why stress the mutual opposition if his point was only to say that the Spirit overcomes the flesh?  This has led some scholars to take a different approach to the conflict between flesh and Spirit.  Cousar makes the following suggestion:

“The clause expresses purpose (and not result) and declares the intent of each power, namely, to thwart the work of the other.  As Williams comments, “The flesh and the Spirit oppose each other in order to keep Christians from doing what they might otherwise do if the other adversary were not on the field.”[9]  Nothing is implied about the status of the readers until 5:18.  . . . The readers are not victimized by a standoff between the flesh and the Spirit because their identity and allegiance are with the Spirit.”[10]

One must keep in mind that Cousar does not see “flesh” as the sinful nature, but rather as the realm (his “old age”) in which sin, fueled by the Law, holds sway over sinful mankind.

A variation on Cousar’s view is that “flesh” is the sinful nature of a Christian, at the same time retaining the overall sense of victory.  Thus, “so that you may not do the things that you please” refers to both the willing to do good and also the willing to do wrong.  This is the way Fung takes it.  “The verse then means that in the Spirit-flesh conflict, it is impossible for the believer to remain neutral: he either serves the flesh or follows the Spirit.”[11]  See also F.F. Bruce[12] and John Eadie[13] for the view that 5:17b refers to both.  Eadie’s thinking on the phrase “these are in opposition to one another” is as follows:

“Both these interpretations [flesh or Spirit are victorious] are therefore wrong; for the words are used of actual contest, not of decided mastery on either side.  The phrase [‘for these are in opposition to one another’] describes not only actual antagonism, but undecided result.  It is true in the case of all who are born again, that the conflict ends in the victory of the spirit, but the apostle here does not include the issue, he speaks only of the contest.”[14]

While this interpretation is possible, it does not work well as an explanation for the positive statement in v. 16.  Explanations, by their very nature, assuming they are crafted wisely, are never so complex as to leave readers in a state of greater confusion.   The best choice, then, seems to be that the clause “so that you may not do the things that you please” refers to the things of the flesh—the contentious, unloving behavior threatening to destroy the church (vv. 13-15).  Witherington settles on this as the best solution:

“. . . I thus conclude, especially in view of the warnings to the Galatians in this very context about avoiding acting on the desires of the flesh which lead to various works of the flesh, that ‘what you want’ refers to these sinful desires or inclinations and that Paul is saying in essence that the purpose of the conflict or tension in the Christian life, the purpose of the eschatological warfare between flesh and Spirit in their midst in which they must be active participants, is so that they will not act out their sinful desires.  This is precisely what the assurance in v. 16 was about and v. 17 just reinforces the point.”[15]

This interpretation corrects a common misconception, and this understanding is further supported by the passage’s neat envelope structure.  At the end we find this assertion: “Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” (v. 24)  Our decision of how to interpret v. 17 must take this statement, as well as v. 16, into account.  Paul seems to be saying the same thing in v. 16 and v. 24, namely, those who are saved no longer are in bondage to sin; they can and must live godly lives if they are Christ’s.  Verse 17 must not be taken in a way that contradicts this central message, no matter how one understands the contest between flesh and Spirit.

The Key to Understanding

Galatians 5:18 concludes, “But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law.” In many sermons, the speaker has ignored this verse or passed by it so quickly as hardly to be noticed.  This is extremely unfortunate, because when rightly understood, it provides the theological background for making sense of the previous two verses. It is the key that unlocks the meaning of this entire section.  

This verse is incomprehensible apart from a wider knowledge of Pauline theology with respect to the Spirit, the Law, the flesh and sin.  We need first to understand Paul’s thinking about what it means to be “led by the Spirit.” He is not referring to a subjective leading of the Spirit in the life of the individual Christian.  Furthermore, he is not talking primarily about sanctification (sanctification is, of course, in the background) with this terminology, which takes on somewhat of a technical meaning for him.

Thus, the contrast is not between a Spirit-filled Christian and a disobedient Christian.  The contrast is what Paul says here that it is—to be led by the Spirit is not to be under the Law.  In Pauline theology, Law and Spirit are two realms, two spheres of existence.  To be under Law is to be unsaved and bound in sin; to be led by the Spirit is to experience the life and freedom that the Spirit gives.  In other words, as was mentioned earlier, to be led by the Spirit is the mark of all the saved; to be under the Law characterizes the unsaved Jew.  Elsewhere Paul makes this explicit: “For all who are being led by the Spirit, these are sons of God.” (Romans 8:14)

Also critical to understanding this statement is recognizing the connection between two closely related themes in Paul’s theology, the first being “under the Law” and the second being in bondage to sin.  The relationship of Law to sin has been a major emphasis since chapter 3.  To understand how Paul develops these key themes in chapters 3 and 4 is to understand his statement in 5:18.

Law is set against the Spirit in the opening of chapter 3, vv. 3-5.  This essential opposition between the two was a principle of critical importance for the Galatians, since a group of agitators was pressing for the Gentiles to be circumcised and to observe certain Jewish rituals.  Only by observing Torah could these Gentiles be considered part of the people of God.  Paul fights against this notion, and frames his argument in terms of Law vs. Spirit.  This is the way he begins the chapter.

Did the Galatians receive the Spirit by observing Torah, or through their common faith in Jesus? (v. 2) Are they maturing in their faith, and are they experiencing miracles in their presence as a result of Torah or the Spirit?  These rhetorical questions were meant to contrast Jewish life under Torah and life together—Jew and Gentile—in the Spirit.  While the bondage-to-sin theme is not introduced in the early part of chapter 3, failure under the Law is clearly asserted from vv. 10-14.

The theme of unsaved Jews being bound to sin while under the Law is expressed first in non-metaphorical language (vv. 15-22) and then in the metaphor of the Law as pedagogue (vv. 23-29).  In the former section, Paul clearly states the relationship between the Law and sin: “Why the Law then?  It was added because of transgressions” [that is, to mark sin out as transgressions] (v. 19).

Yahweh needed to convince His people they were in need of a right standing with Him, so He gave them Torah, which they could not and did not keep.  God’s intent is then illustrated by Paul with the metaphor of a strict teacher.  Israel under the Law was in bondage to sin in a similar way that a minor child under the tutelage of a pedagogue lacked the freedom of an adult son.  Only in Christ could they be set free from the bondage of sin and spiritual death.

The bondage theme becomes even more pronounced in the pedagogue metaphor in Gal. 4:3, “So also we, while we were children, were held in bondage under the elemental things of the world,” a reference at least to Torah and perhaps to any system of laws that in and of themselves could not grant spiritual life.

Taking all of these aspects into consideration, we realize the profound significance of v. 18.  The reason the Galatians can, should and must live in love with one another is that they (Paul is particularly aiming his comments at the Jews) have been freed from their former bondage to sin while they were “under the Law,” denoting the time before they came to be “led by the Spirit.”  The old life was characterized by failure to do what Yahweh commanded. Their new life in the Spirit has freed them to live godly lives.

Conclusion

Galatians 5:16-18 is far too important in the life of the church not to be correctly understood and taught.   It heads one of the most familiar texts in all the New Testament regarding the Christian life, the works of the flesh, and the fruit of the Spirit.  This text needs to be proclaimed in a way consistent with Paul’s conviction. We who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh—our old way of life, dominated by sin—and now have the ability to live a godly life. May we hear more of this great victory brought through Christ.

[1] I use “victorious” as John does in 1 John 3:7-9; 5:4,5; etc. not with triumphal, “higher life” connotations characteristic of 18th and 19th century Methodism, with its perfectionistic tendencies.

[2] F. F. Bruce, Commentary on Galatians, New International Greek Testament Commentary, eds. I. Howard Marshall and W. Ward Gasque (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1982), 243.

[3]J. B. Lightfoot, Saint Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians (London: MacMillan and Co., Limited, 1921), 209.

[4]Ronald Y. K. Fung, The Epistle to the Galatians, The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1988), 248.

[5]Timothy George, Galatians, The New American Commentary, ed. E. Ray Clendenen (Nashville: Broadman and Holman Publishers, 1994), 386.

[6]C. F. Hogg and W. W. Vine, The Epistle to the Galatians, reprint (Grand Rapids: Kregel Publications, n.d.), 279.

[7] Ben Witherington III, Grace in Galatia—A Commentary on St. Paul’s Letter to the Galatians (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co, 1998), 394.

[8]Charles B. Cousar, Reading Galatians, Philippians and 1 Thessalonians (Macon, Georgia: Smyth & Helwys, 2001), 102.

[9]Sam K. Williams, Galatians, Abingdon New Testament Commentaries (Nashville: Abingdon, 1997), 149.

[10]Ibid., 103.

[11] Fung, Galatians., 251.

[12]Bruce, Galatians, 244-45.

[13]John Eadie, A Commentary on the Greek Text of the Epistle of Paul to the Galatians, reprint (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1979), 409-10.

[14] Ibid., 411.

[15]Witherington, Galatians, 394.

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On Assignment: How Do We Respond When God Calls?

Posted on October 10, 2011 by Lee Ann Zanon

By Lee Ann Zanon, Adjunct Professor, Women’s Ministries

B-6. N-32. I-19. Bingo!  Smiles brighten the faces of the nursing home residents seated in wheelchairs around me, and we all cheer.  Scanning the circle, I see friendly competition and laughter, despite severe physical limitations. I think to myself, “Only God could have put me here.”

Just a few months earlier, I couldn’t have imagined such a scene.  Due to my mother-in-law’s recent health crisis, however, I have become a regular visitor at various health care facilities.  Since my husband and I are the only immediate family members in the area, and he works out of state, I am best suited to oversee the situation. At the time, I have no idea it will span nearly 16 weeks.

In my opinion, I am absolutely wrong for this assignment.  The medical realm has never been my favorite, and I avoid it whenever possible. Just walking the halls of a hospital makes me feel queasy. I repeatedly question God about what He is asking of me. My prayers for help are fervent and frequent.  Yet as I pore over Scripture, desperate for encouragement, I notice a pattern. The Lord consistently assigns tasks to people who feel ill-equipped, or who even want to refuse His requests.  In other words … my weak stomach is no excuse.

Questions and Objections

In Exodus chapters 3 and 4, when God speaks to Moses from a burning bush and tells him about his assignment to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, questions begin immediately. Moses asks, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharoah, and that I should bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” (3:11) “What if they do not believe me or listen to me?” (4:1)

In 4:10, Moses is quick to explain why he is not the right man for the job. He says, “O Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” Freeing the Israelites will likely involve intense conversations with Pharaoh, and Moses views himself as inherently unqualified.

Like me, he is full of excuses. He dreads embarrassment and failure, based upon both reality and fear. When it comes to reality, God doesn’t try to change Moses’ mind, nor does He deny the facts of the situation. Instead, the Lord states His side of the equation. “I will be with you.” (3:12) “I AM who I AM.” (3:14) Related to Moses’ concern about his speech, God asks His own questions, “ ‘Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or mute?… Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.’ ” (4:11-12) Author Charles Swindoll says, “Now that’s divine speech therapy!”[1]

To calm Moses’ fears about whether people will believe he is God’s representative (4:1), the Lord performs two miracles. First, He has Moses throw down a staff, and it turns into a serpent.  When Moses grasps the serpent by the tail, it once again becomes a staff. Next, the Lord asks Moses to put his hand into his cloak. Scripture says, “When he took it out, it was leprous, like snow.”  Then He (God) said, “‘Now put it back into your cloak.’ So Moses put his hand back into his cloak, and when he took it out, it was restored, like the rest of his flesh.” (4:6-7) Rather than reprimand Moses for his doubts, God demonstrates the mighty power that would enable and sustain him.

A Common Theme

While the scope of Moses’ assignment is immeasurably more expansive than mine, I find comfort in our shared experiences.  I believe feelings of inadequacy and fear span time and culture.  They are part of what it means to be human.  Author Paula Rinehart says, “We are afraid—not of evil, but of making fools of ourselves, of being less liked by others, of looking like a dolt. When we give in to this kind of fear and let it run our lives, we get stuck in a shrunken form of the life we are meant to have.”[2]

Swindoll observes, “Moses shows how deeply he fears ridicule. More than anything else, perhaps, he is deathly afraid of appearing as a silly old man.”[3]

In my case, I am scared of missing an important detail, or simply not knowing what to do. What if I prove to be incapable? What if I let someone down?  I know the whole family trusts me to do the right thing. And, due to the complexity of the situation, there are many opportunities to make mistakes.

My “assignment” includes staying current on my mother-in-law’s multi-faceted health care issues, coordinating financial planning, dismantling her household, and transitioning her to full-time care. Some days, the details seem endless. And, since she lives 45 minutes down the freeway from my home, I make the trip many times a week for visits and appointments.

There are also issues of the heart—the sadness of watching her rapid decline, and coming to terms with dramatic changes in our family dynamics. I repeatedly console and reassure her as she grieves, at age 82, the loss of her home and independence. Many nights I find myself sitting on the couch at 3 a.m., searching the Scriptures to soothe my soul.  Ultimately, I have to lay aside my personal desires in favor of a different agenda, to an extent far beyond my norm.  While this process is exhausting and overwhelming, I experience God’s love and faithfulness more deeply than I have in years.

Author F.B. Meyer says, “So long as we are quietly at rest amid favorable and undisturbed surroundings, faith sleeps as an undeveloped sinew within us; a thread, a germ, an idea. But when we are pushed out from all these surroundings, with nothing but God to look to, then faith grows suddenly into a cable, a monarch oak, a master principle of life.”[4]

It is daunting to consider some of the assignments God has given His people through the centuries. A quick glance at Hebrews 11 reveals the examples of Noah, Abraham and Sarah, Joseph, David, and others. In the Gospels, Mary the mother of Jesus readily accepts the Lord’s profound yet perplexing plans. For the New Testament church, Peter and Paul are called to roles of great risk and responsibility. In recent history, Amy Carmichael, Corrie ten Boom, Joni Eareckson Tada and Billy Graham embraced callings of significant sacrifice. Today, the persecuted church shines as believers carry out divine assignments amid danger and difficulty.

In each of these scenarios, the faith and action required by God is humanly impossible.  He calls His people to tasks only He can accomplish, for His purpose and glory. Swindoll notes,

“At very unique junctures of our lives, God says to us, ‘Now My child, I have this in mind for you…Now go. I’m sending you, and I will be with you.’ Why did Moses resist? … I believe Moses thought God intended him to be the deliverer of Israel, and that blew all his circuit breakers. But God didn’t tell him that! God told him that he would be an instrument in the deliverance, but God Himself would be the deliverer. Huge difference. In God’s calling, He has a plan; but He never expects you to carry out that plan. He’s going to pull it off. He simply wants you to be the instrument of action…All He asks is that you give yourself to Him as a tool He can pick up and use. That’s all.”[5]

He Is There

My assignment allowed me to experience God’s goodness in specific answers to prayer and many surprise gifts. He graciously guided us through a web of health care and insurance details, and opened an excellent care facility placement at just the right time, after four solid months of looking. He enabled us to sell a 1978 vintage mobile home in just four days, and disperse its considerable contents to a variety of people and charities. Daily blessings included unexpected visits from friends, pertinent Scriptures brought to mind, and just the right songs on the radio. God often showed me His tangible love, and reminded me that my weakness was the perfect place to showcase His strength (2 Cor. 12:9).

As Paula Rinehart notes, “The case can be made that you don’t really get to know God except by wading into your fear and discovering Him there.”[6]

As believers, we never know when or what our next assignment will be.  It could be as simple as visiting a neighbor, as intimidating as reconciling a relationship, or as extensive as starting a new career. It will likely require us to step into unfamiliar realms—mentally, physically, spiritually, or all three. But one aspect is sure, as the Lord spoke to Moses from the burning bush, “Certainly, I will be with you.”  (Exodus 3:12)  In that reality, we can find the courage to say yes, to whatever God asks of us.

 

[1] Charles Swindoll, Moses (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 1999), p. 123.

[2] Paula Rinehart, Strong Women, Soft Hearts (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2001), p. 165.

[3] Swindoll, p. 118

[4] F.B. Meyer, Pulpit Legends: Patriarchs of the Faith p. 13, as quoted in Cynthia Heald, Becoming a Woman of Faith (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2000), p. 83.

[5] Swindoll, p. 113

[6] Rinehart, p. 168.

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Of Mushrooms and Ministry

Posted on April 13, 2011 by Greg Trull

 

By Dr. Greg Trull, Dean of Ministries, Professor of Biblical Studies

Step by step, we ascended up the trail out of Hell’s Canyon. Camp lay just ahead, and we were nearly “home” when we discovered a delectable surprise. Warm days and newly melted snow had given way to a bed of wild Morel mushrooms. After dropping our packs at camp, we hurried back to harvest our find. That night we gorged on fire-roasted steaks and butter-sautéed mushrooms. We were the portrait of happy campers!

While Morels bring joy to any mushroom hunter, many forest fungi bring only danger. The same are as that produce delicious Truffles and Chanterelles may also grow Destroying Angels and Death Caps. Oh that they wore their revealing names in the woods! Instead, the toxic grow readily among the tasty.

As Christians, we face a challenge similar to the mushroom hunter. Our paths are lined with a host of choices, all with a promising look. Ideas and causes sprout up in Christian circles. How do we acquire the taste for the full range of God’s blessing while recognizing and refusing the empty and dangerous? This issue of Dedicated offers insights to sharpen our spiritual discernment.

Anne Jeffers challenges us to indulge in resurrection truth throughout the year, not just at Easter dinner. The resurrection of Christ changes all of history and all of eternity. Such a transforming, hope-filling reality ought to serve as a daily delight for our souls. Leroy Goertzen invites us to extend our tables and embrace change. The comfort of familiarity dulls our desire to reach out. Yet the joys of stretching to connect to new people and fresh challenges reward those willing to set more plates for guests.

Kent Kersey provides helpful insight for identifying the healthy and the hurtful in his review of Rob Bell’s hot and controversial book, Love Wins. Many have applauded Bell’s conclusion that God’s love will ultimately overlook all human failure and allow everyone to find heaven. Kent adeptly analyzes the logic and biblical proof in Bell’s claims, and offers a needed corrective.

We’re glad you’ve come to our table. We hope this issue feeds your soul.

 

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Living in the Reality of the Resurrection

Posted on April 13, 2011 by Lee Ann Zanon

By Anne Jeffers, Assistant Professor of Ministries

How do you say the last goodbye to your 16-year-old granddaughter?  Where do you find hope as you stand by your mother’s fresh grave? As I reflect on these and other life changing questions I’ve faced, I realize the answers are found in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And yet, despite its profound impact, we as Christians rarely give it the attention it deserves.

As followers of Jesus, we know that His death paid the penalty for our sin. He was, and is, the Lamb of God who came to take away the sin of the world. We speak often of His death, but not too often do we speak of the resurrection—at least not until Easter rolls around.

Author Eugene Peterson observes, “It is interesting that the world has had very little success in commercializing Easter—turning it into a commodity—as it has Christmas. If we can’t in our phrase ‘get a handle on it’ or use it, we soon lose interest. But resurrection is not available for our use. It’s exclusively God’s operation.”[1]

During this Easter season, I believe it is important to ask, “What does it mean to me personally that Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, died and rose again?  And, how does it affect the way I live, each and every day?”

The apostle Paul declared the resurrection to be of utmost importance. “I want to remind you of the gospel I preached to you which you received and on which you have taken your stand. By this gospel you are saved … For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures.” (1 Cor. 15:1-4) In verse 14, Paul goes on to say that if there is no resurrection, then our preaching is vain and so is our faith. We need the resurrection. Verse 19 states, “If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.”

The resurrection impacts our faith both now and for eternity.  Through it, the Lord offers assurance of His promises, hope to dispel the fear of death, and power beyond ourselves.

Assurance that God keeps His promises

The reality of the resurrection proves that God keeps His promises. Jesus had explained that when He died, He would rise again. He would not stay in the tomb. In Matt. 12:40 He said, “For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” He kept that promise. Friends and family may not live up to what they have promised, but I can have confidence in the Lord. His resurrection means I can face the future with assurance, knowing He keeps His Word.

I find it interesting that although Jesus told His followers He would rise again, they did not understand, and perhaps did not believe, it was possible. The women who came early that first day of the week found the tomb empty of His body and inhabited by dazzling angels.  The angels reminded them of Jesus’ words, “He is not here; He has risen! Remember how He told you, while He was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ Then they remembered His words.” (Luke 24:5b-8)

The story continues in verses 9-10. “When they (the women) came back from the tomb, they told all these things to the eleven and to all the others … but they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense.”

It’s easy to question the disciples’ faith and wonder why they didn’t believe what Jesus told them, but I think most of us experience similar doubts and questions.  Even after we’ve followed Christ for many years, and studied the promises of Scripture over and over again, we still struggle with fear and anxiety. But the resurrection clearly demonstrates that the Lord does keep His promises, and we are to believe Him.

Jesus also showed this truth through His interaction with Mary and Martha in Luke 11:17-44.  When they had lost their beloved brother Lazarus to death and were weeping in sorrow, Jesus came to them, sharing in their grief with His own tears and reminding them that death was not the end. Martha was upset that He had not come sooner and said, “Lord … if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus responded, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha, who knew the Scriptures, replied, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”  Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” Martha responded, “Yes Lord.” What a promise and what a consolation Jesus gave her. He then acted on the promise, and raised Lazarus from the tomb.

Hope to dispel the fear of death

The reality of Jesus’ declaration was cemented in my heart on an unseasonably cold January day in Kentucky some forty years ago. Several inches of snow covered every marker in the church cemetery. Due to the frigid weather, our circle of relatives and friends was fairly small.  But our immediate family—including my dad—stood at my mother’s grave awaiting the final words.  The comfort expressed by Jesus to Martha rang out as my brother-in-law proclaimed the Scripture noted above, “I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die.”

I often wonder how people who do not have hope in Jesus Christ stand by the grave of a loved one without the hope that only He can give. For me, the confidence that He lives and we, too, shall live means I can face whatever comes, no matter how painful or devastating it may be.  I am confident of the words of Bill Gaither’s classic song, “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone. Because I know who holds the future, and life is worth the living just because He lives.”[2]

The truth of the resurrection means I do not need to fear death. It is not the end. There is much more beyond this life. Heb. 2:14-15 tells us that through Christ’s sacrifice, He destroyed the one who holds the power of death and frees those “ … who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death.”  The fear of death is a paralyzing fear, hindering each of us from living fully and freely.

Power beyond ourselves

The resurrection also means that the power used to raise Jesus from the dead is available to us. In Eph.1:19-20 Paul prayed that we might know, “… His incomparably great power for us who believe … like the working of His mighty strength which He exerted in Christ when He raised Him from the dead and seated Him in the heavenly realms.” In their book, Experiencing the Resurrection, authors Henry and Melvin Blackaby state,

The resurrection is the best and clearest demonstration of an astounding power that comes from God’s presence. That is the power that gave new life to Jesus once He had been publicly crucified and had His physical life taken from Him. Life is the essential nature of resurrection power that comes from God’s presence. The same is true today … and God has placed this exact same power within every believer. He intends to bring life through those who have come to abundant life in Christ.[3]

In Phil. 3:10 the apostle Paul said, “I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings …” Are you and I experiencing the resurrection, or are we living defeated lives? I am with the apostle Paul in this. I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection, even if it leads through the fellowship of His suffering.

Strength amid suffering and loss

Even Job, who suffered more than anyone I know or have known, seemed to have had some understanding of the resurrection. He said, “I know that my Redeemer lives and that in the end He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see Him with my own eyes—I, and not another.” (Job 19:25-27a)

I personally witnessed an amazing example of resurrection hope in the midst of suffering through my precious granddaughter Jessica. When she was a sophomore in high school, she began to experience some tiredness and pain. She was a healthy teen who had not been to her pediatrician for a long time, so her mother took her to the doctor. When they received the call with results of her examination, the news was devastating. Jessica had acute lymphocytic leukemia. The prognosis was not good.

At the time of her diagnosis in May, Jessica was raising funds for a summer mission trip to Mexico. She continued with her plans, even as she began treatment at Doernbecher Children’s Hospital in Portland, Oregon. The treatment was effective and she went into remission very quickly, while still making regular trips to the hospital for tests and continuing therapy. As summer approached, however, she suddenly began having problems again and was admitted for medical care. Her immune system had been drastically compromised, resulting in an infection which swept through her body and was resistant to antibiotics.

When Jessica was diagnosed with leukemia, she knew that death was a possibility. She had to face the prospect that at age fifteen, her life might be cut short. Yet the hope of resurrection was clear in her testimony, as expressed in the Oct. 13, 1995, entry of her journal:

God is in control of all things!

He has a plan for me that is being carried out as I write this.

Angels are watching over me.

What have I to fear? Death?

That is only one more step to HEAVEN!

GOD IS IN CONTROL!

Jessica’s struggle with leukemia lasted eleven months. Finally, after eleven days in pediatric intensive care, the doctors said nothing more could be done. She was disconnected from all life support, and at age sixteen, her earthly life ended. The date was April 5, her mother’s birthday. It was Good Friday.

The tears we shed while we stood around Jessica’s hospital bed as she departed this life did not ease the pain.  But through it all, the promise of the resurrection was real. Good Friday was not the end.  Hallelujah. Yes, we grieved when Jessica’s earthly life ended, but not as those who have no hope. (1 Thess. 4:13) The promise of Easter and the resurrection of the Savior gave us hope.

Resurrection reflections

Maybe our lack of attention to the resurrection is due to the fact that getting there requires going through death and the grave.  The road to Easter must go through Good Friday, and it does.  I like how author Billy Sprague says it:

Life is a journey toward eternal delight. It is a bittersweet recipe for a delicious future that first requires crushing, sacrifice and dying  … We are being turned and blended, prepared for eternity with our Maker in whose presence is a fountain of endless pleasures. And in that place no one goes away unsatisfied, grows fat, old, or weary of sweet perfection. There will be a reunion of loved ones.[4]

In its final pages, the Bible leaves us with a picture of resurrection, “ … God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”  (Rev. 21:3b-4)

As I reflect on the question I asked early in this article, how the resurrection affects the way I live my life, I realize the answer is in my granddaughter’s journal. To quote Jessica, “What have I to fear?”

[1] Eugene Peterson, Living the Resurrection (Colorado Springs: NavPress, 2006), 13.

[2] William and Gloria Gaither, “Because He Lives,” Words and music, 1971.

[3] Henry and Melvin Blackaby, Experiencing the Resurrection (Sisters, OR: Multnomah Books, 2008), 149.

[4] Billy Sprague, Ice Cream as a Clue to the Universe (Eugene, OR: Harvest House, 2000), 18.

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Extending the Table—Healthy Growth in the Family of God

Posted on April 13, 2011 by Lee Ann Zanon

By Dr. Leroy Goertzen, Director, Doctor of Ministry Program, Associate Professor of Pastoral Theology

Everything I really needed to know about living in a growing community I learned at my grandfather’s dinner table. Pardon the spin on Robert Fulghum’s sentimental and humorous book, All I Really Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, but it is true that some of life’s most remarkable lessons are conveyed through what appear to be the most modest of means.

Watching my grandfather extend the table and seeing my grandmother happily add extra plates for new members born or married into the family year after year left an indelible picture in my mind of what God intends for His family, the church. Families grow, and it brings great joy to Him and to us.

During my childhood in a small rural community on the plains of Nebraska, I had the opportunity to see my mom and dad’s sides of the family expand. My dad had six brothers and sisters and five half brothers. My mom had eight siblings, giving me 19 first cousins and nearly 60 second-cousins, and a horde of “in-laws.”

Unfailingly, while my Grandfather was alive, we would have dinner together right after church on Christmas and Easter. Since most of the family lived within our little Mennonite community and attended the same church, these holiday gatherings filled the ample house to overflowing.

To accommodate all of us, my grandfather used a basement room that ran the entire length of the house. Appearing a bit out of place at one end of this large room, was a round oak table—always covered properly with a hand-crocheted table cloth and four place settings.

I can still picture my grandfather and grandmother extending it, almost miraculously, as leaf after leaf was taken out of the closet and added to the table. As a young boy helping to carry those leaves, it seemed to me that the table grew endlessly as additional members found a place there. But although it could seat nearly 20 people when extended to its limit, the day came when we began eating in shifts—the men and boys first, and then the women and girls.

Eventually, just prior to my grandfather’s passing, our Christmas gathering was held at the community center. We just couldn’t fit into the house. It was a bitter-sweet occasion. Losing the familiar environment of that house with all of its peculiar smells and memories was glum. But seeing the growth of the family brought enough excitement to make up for the loss.

Growth in the family of God—the church—is also exciting and invigorating, but it doesn’t come easily. While it should be natural and anticipated, how many tables, fully extended and appointed, do we see? All around us and across America, churches that were once growing have plateaued or are in decline. According to David Olson, director of the American Church Research Project, over 3,700 churches are closing their doors for good each year.[1] It is estimated that 85% of the 400,000 churches in America have either stopped growing or are declining.[2] For them, table leaves are being removed and stored in closets, place-settings abandoned in the china cabinet, and extra chairs sold off at garage sales, pennies on the dollar.

At my grandfather’s table, I learned that although family growth was very good, it was not without problems and complications. Including new people often stretched our resolve to the core, demanding a re-ordering of much of what was considered dear and precious. My experience suggests that whether in families or in the community of faith, extending the table to include others requires an intentional endeavor, involving four key principles.

Let’s add another leaf to the table

Healthy families grow! Healthy churches grow! Healthy schools grow! Growth is built into the laws of nature. Or, at least, so it would seem. There are, of course, naturally-occurring reasons why growth can’t happen. But those are the exceptions, not the norm. The troubling reality is, however, that the DNA for some organizations includes genetically-altered information: “Us Four and No More.” Can’t you envision my grandfather’s table set beautifully for four, looking unbefitting in the spacious basement room designed for so many more?

The “us four and no more” mentality has been widely embraced. The church community I grew up in, as hospitable as it could be, was not well known for being inclusive. Table fellowship was more restrictive than one might imagine. It should be noted that hospitality and welcoming new people into the inner sanctum of our families are not the same, in the same way that being friendly is not the same as being a friend. Failing to extend the table can occur even in the friendliest, most hospitable setting.

Churches, like families, can adopt an “us four and no more” approach to ministry. There are many reasons why this happens. We’re more comfortable with people we know. We believe, falsely, that we can build deeper, more satisfying relationships by staying within the known circle of individuals. Some believe it is easier to maintain a corporate memory—a shared history—with those who have lived it. These reasons point to what church analysts have long referred to as “koinonitis,” the church focusing on self-serving fellowship.[3]

It is possible for a church to expend most of its energy appointing a table for four.  This is particularly true when those who have been around the longest pull up to the table to reminisce about the “good old days.”[4] Nostalgia, the mental and emotional regurgitation among those fortunate enough to have shared the church’s supposed prime time, hungers for the way things once were. Unfortunately for them, as Will Rogers once quipped, “Things ain’t what they used to be and probably never was.” But nostalgia “weakens our commitment to the present. This fact is a huge threat to declining congregations. Nostalgia leaves little energy for today.”[5] We know that families only feign interest in growth when the necessary accommodations are noticeably missing. If growth is natural, we ought to prepare for it. If we intend to extend the table to include more than our little group, why is it set for just four?

My grandfather planned for his family to grow. He intended that there would be room at the table for all. There was always another chair, another plate, an extra fork. My grandfather didn’t cook for four—it was hardly worth dirtying the pans. He prepared food for a crowd. I was convinced that he believed that a family grew into the number of servings he had prepared.

Sitting at the table doesn’t feel like it used to

When new members are added to the family, our place at the table is likely to change. I remember well the day I had to give up my “chair” to my younger brother. I was scared! There was a peculiar sense of entitlement that came with sitting next to my father at our farm table, surrounded by a bunch of strapping, hard-working siblings. Eating family style meant everyone was responsible to fill their own plate. Darwin’s theory of the survival of the fittest was in play, and as a young boy, I was not the fittest. Unprotected, my survival was questionable! It seemed that meal time prayers barely ended in “Amen” when forks began stabbing and hands started grabbing. I was sure I would never see another drumstick on my plate!

I learned quickly that a growing family meant change—and some of it felt harsh. But I, as did all my siblings, somehow managed to survive and thrive.

Growth-related change tends to be hard for organizations as well. Some churches struggle because they can’t envision it. They say they want to grow, but the commitment is to the idea of growth, not to the unpalatable changes typically required to initiate and nurture it. Some common scenarios include:

“We can’t have two worship services! I won’t know everyone!”

“Do we really have to sing choruses? I can’t even hear myself sing. Why can’t we just sing the good-old hymns of the faith—like they did in Jesus’ day?”

“What? I wasn’t selected for the new worship team? I’ve been singing in the choir for 25 years!”

Extending the table always means a new seating arrangement. This can lead, however, to considerable angst amongst long-term members of a church. Some begin to feel they are losing control of “their” church because enough newcomers have become involved to threaten their power base and ways of doing things. “An ‘us-them’ and ‘we-they’ mentality develops between the newcomers and old-timers.”[6] Apparently, someone is no longer getting to sit next to dad!

But healthy churches, like healthy families, realize that not working through issues and changing the seating chart may result in an empty table. Sadly, the people who’ve been hanging around the table of four often like things just the way they are, and they work, even inadvertently, to keep them that way. There is a better approach.

In many ways a church is like a family. There is a system in place with spoken and unspoken rules on how everyone is to relate and behave… In a healthy church…the structure processes and adapts to the feedback from the members. Change is highly valued, and stability comes from the positive values gained rather than from negative values feared. Healthy systems are inclusive rather than exclusive, accepting newcomers and assimilating them into the system.[7]

Extending the table requires a willingness to make room for others, even if it means being displaced from a position of tenure and privilege. If new members are ready and available to fill those chairs, they should be welcomed to bring who and what they are to the table.

When the table gets extended, another change we can expect is to sit with people who aren’t like us. It is one thing to invite new people to take a place at the cherished family table. It is quite another to choose to sit and eat with them.  Common responses may include:

“I don’t know those people. Who invited them?”

“They’re not from around here are they?”

When sitting next to new people at the dinner table, we may realize that they think differently than we do. This can be trying, since newcomers don’t necessarily understand or respect our traditions, our inside jokes, and how we go about preserving entrenched social arrangements—spoken and unspoken. Striking up conversations with new people tests our ability to invite them into our lives.

In our family, in-laws were immediately welcomed with open arms. They enjoyed a moment of celebrity status.  However, everyone within the family circle knew that a “sizing up” was going on. How would the new person fit in? With whom should they sit at the table? I remember this well when I introduced my fiancé to the family at our first Christmas gathering.

“Why, how could a city girl from California fit in? What is he thinking?”  “Well, at least she has a Mennonite name!” “Do you think she knows how to make verenika and zwieback?”

When a church is intent on extending the table, it seems obvious that new people would want places to sit where they hope to build relationships. Likewise, they bring their own experiences, traditions, stories and language. Conversations at the table will never be the same. Could it be that we may have to engage in uncomfortable discussions that take us beyond our conversational comfort zones? Is it possible that our parochial ideas won’t find the ready, listening ear and agreeing nod we need to reinforce our viewpoints? The changes that new people bring can threaten our ideas and practices. Alas, new people are typically different people, that is, different from us and different like us. It is the church membership’s job to look beyond themselves and their own needs and to engage and integrate newcomers into the family.

Unlike most institutions, the church cannot confine its attention to certain groups of people. Rather it endeavors to respond sensitively to all comers, caring for them from the cradle to the grave. At the same it must also give high priority to reaching beyond its ranks to meet people in every walk of life, to demonstrate the love of Christ in practical ways and invite them to join their ranks in following Christ the Lord and Savior.[8]

For many, the change that growth brings is received as an opportunity for further growth; extending the table leads to further extensions. But for others, sitting at the table just doesn’t feel or “taste” the way it used to.

Crazy things happen around the table

Change is messy. Think of a counter and sink full of dishes after a holiday dinner. There are those who would have us believe that change can be laid out so carefully and thoughtfully that it is virtually imperceptible—the dirty dishes vanish magically from the table into the dishwasher and back into the cupboards spic-and-span. Don’t we wish!  Realistically, change is rarely inconspicuous; it can rarely be concealed.  It has the inscrutable ability to trifle with the very aspects we hold sacred and dear.

Every family has its cherished traditions. For holidays, my grandfather always served the same meal—a menu that reflected his German heritage and originated in the old country, but had been adapted to accommodate food selections in America, including: ring baloney, cold ham, baked beans, and fried potatoes. As the table was extended to people who came from other traditions, new menu items suddenly appeared—which delighted some and appalled others.

“What’s wrong with the menu we’ve always served?” “How can you not like our Christmas dinner; we’ve been serving it for five generations? We all like it!” “You can’t call this a family Christmas if you don’t serve baked beans and fried potatoes. What next? Jello!?”

A scandal just as great as changing the menu often occurred when new-comers tried to fit in by simply going with the plan. Inevitably, they botched the recipe because they didn’t know how to make baked beans like they did in the old country. Worse yet, some didn’t even ask for the recipe. Unimaginably, some had the audacity to intentionally alter the recipe!  One new family member even brought baked beans from a can.  We asked ourselves, “What were they thinking??”

When we extend the table, new people will inevitably want to be included in our family’s sacred practices. Churches, like families, can be overly protective of traditions and positions. As a result, they can be slow to incorporate new people into vital areas of ministry. This is warranted, of course, when there has not been ample time to test a newcomer’s character or his/her willingness to embrace the church’s vision and ministry philosophy. But things are usually messier than this. Some fear that new people will displace those who have come to “own” particular ministry responsibilities. Others are concerned that their cherished methods will be discontinued. These fears often undermine the prospect of incorporating people into the church’s ministry.

Seventy-five percent of those who become active in a church do so within six to twelve months of first attending. In most cases it is a mistake to encourage newcomers to sit on the sidelines for a year or two before getting involved in a ministry. After sitting for that length of time, quite a few new people never transition into Christian service. Churches hoping to assimilate new people for the long haul find it wiser to recruit and involve newcomers in a ministry within three to six months of their first visit.[9]

And yet, we are astonished when they don’t stay or seem reluctant to get involved when we protect our traditions and positions. We are communicating that people are welcome to eat with us and join in our conversations, but aren’t permitted to partner with us in sacred traditions. This insinuates not so subtly that we’re unsure they are really one of us, or that they are concerned with our issues, and whether they will continue in the ways we’ve established. These are table manners few newcomers are willing to endure.

When people are invited to the table, they need to be viewed as more than consumers who need to be fed or whose contribution is leaving behind a stack of dirty dishes. Each one has gifts that are a part of their unique design,[10] that when allowed expression, work to generate a fusion of the tastes and sensibilities of the whole group—a group that is ever growing and changing! Paul’s use of the body metaphor, with its manifold gifts of the Spirit given for mutual edification and witness to the world, describes and advocates such a view.[11]

Believers are to be mobilized, activated and released for ministry. Statistics show that churches with more than 55% of their people serving in identifiable ministry roles are usually growing; if 54% or less, they are plateaued or in decline.[12] For churches, this means inviting participation and investing in newcomers’ ministry development by helping them understand and buy into the church’s vision and philosophy of ministry, and enabling them to discover and employ their spiritual gifts and passions in sacrificial service to each other and to lost people.[13]

Ultimately, extending the table is about inviting and engaging people in God’s mission, not preserving our traditions or positions. The conditions and circumstances in which this occurs are risky and ever-changing, guaranteeing a messy table and a sink full of dirty dishes.

The extended table is a place to say “grace”

In the Jewish community of the first century, table fellowship was a cultural sensibility that was practiced judiciously and rigorously. In plain words, you didn’t eat with just anyone! Who you broke bread with—who you sat down at the table with—pretty much summed up who your friends were and where you fit on the social ladder. And since humanity has always been prone to assess values and worth on the basis of social status, it can become relatively easy to marginalize entire groups living among us. And so it was in Jesus’ day as the religious leadership had managed, in their pursuit and practice of (self) righteousness, to separate themselves from the common and ordinary members of the Jewish community. Many of these were labeled as “sinners”—individuals with whom a common meal would result in impurity. Yet it was among these very individuals that Jesus lived and ministered.

After this, Jesus went out and saw a tax collector by the name of Levi sitting at his tax booth. “Follow me,” Jesus said to him, and Levi got up, left everything and followed him. Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?” Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”

(Luke 5:27-32)

The situation could hardly have been messier for Jesus than playing honored guest at a banquet designed to fellowship with “tax collectors and others.” The Pharisees’ question highlighted what everyone already knew: Jesus was choosing to violate religious and social protocol.  “In his message and table praxis, eating with anyone who would eat with him challenged the central role played by table fellowship in reinforcing boundaries and statuses widely believed to be sanctioned by God.”[14]

Jesus acted counter-culturally. In doing so, He transformed the role of the table from one of preserving ethnic and religious purity to one of announcing grace and acceptance … from enforcing exclusiveness to offering inclusiveness … from marginalizing “sinners” to welcoming them to repentance. Jesus’ action had no real precedent, and it was done at the expense of severe criticism and potential alienation and censorship. Table-fellowship, then, serves as a cultural lens through which to interpret and understand Jesus’ mission.[15] On this, and other occasions, it was during table-fellowship that Jesus announced His salvation. It was at Zacchaeus’ table that Jesus spoke grace into his world, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost.” (Luke 19:9-10).

In similar fashion, the church must catch the vision of Jesus’ inclusive, welcoming presence among “sinners,” where God’s transforming grace can be shared in word and deed. “Hospitality entails not only a seat in the church, but a place at the table. The missional church is one that welcomes all comers, regardless of their lifestyle and beliefs, but always with a view to their radical transformation.”[16]

When families are healthy, they grow.  When they grow, dynamics change, and often get messy. When things get messy, the need and opportunity for grace is made evident, and I believe the best response is to extend the table. Yet there are always those who get stuck along the way and suggest that we stop extending the table, go back to the way things used to be, and create rules to make sure no one messes with the menu. Some church members consider starting their own family tradition—to keep things pure—the way they used to be. I contend that these alternatives are often bereft of grace, incapable of being lived out redemptively after the example of Jesus.

Looking back to my grandfather’s table, I realize the growth that instigated change—mired in messiness—absolutely required grace.  And where there was grace, there was room at the table for all, and all could join in with joy.

A table reaching into eternity

Occasionally, I revisit my childhood memories and return to the place where it all began, sitting with my uncles, aunts, and cousins around my grandfather’s oak table. Amid the lively conversation, snorts of laughter, wild gesturing, and pleas to pass the baked beans, I can still see a picture on the wall behind the place where my grandfather would sit, at the end of the table. It portrays a magnificent dining hall supporting an enormous oak table, extending as far as the eye can see, appearing as though it stretches into eternity. It is meticulously but garishly appointed with gold and silver tableware and other lavish adornment. The table appears to groan under the weight of foodstuffs, and communicates the imminence of a sumptuous banquet put on by someone of substantial means.

The table is decked with fruits, breads, and meats of all kinds, and cups overflowing with wine. To see it is to want to be there! But that is the apparent glitch of the painting: there is no one in attendance.  It appears that the picture seeks to paint a thousand words regarding the much-anticipated marriage supper of the Lamb. But in actuality, it seems that the few words inscribed on the gold placard at the bottom of the print truly convey its meaning. The inscription, attributed to Jesus, says, “Come, for the banquet is ready.”

I have always envisioned the Father’s joy in preparing for those who would attend—counting the names of those who had accepted His invitation of grace, putting out a place-setting for each one, determining that the ones invited and compelled to come would equal the meal prepared.  I imagine that adjacent to the grand dining hall of heaven there is an enormous closet, filled with leaves ready to be added as the Father and His Son extend the table in anticipated readiness for their imminent family gathering, a readiness that includes a gracious appeal and invitation to all. May we as the church reflect this example, offering others a generous welcome in light of that which is extended to us.

[1] David T. Olson, The American Church in Crisis (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2008), 147.

[2] Frank Page, The Incredible Shrinking Church (Nashville: B & H Publishing, 2008), 8. For a fascinating discussion using medical metaphors to describe plateaued and declining churches, see Mac Brunson and Ergun Caner, Why Churches Die: Diagnosing Lethal Poisons in the Body of Christ (Nashville: B&H Books, 2005).

[3] Robert D. Dale, To Dream Again: How to Help Your Church Come Alive (Nashville: Broadman Press, 1981), 97.

[4] Lyle Schaller, Hey, That’s Our Church! (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1975), 94-95.

[5] Dale, 108-09.

[6] Gary L. McIntosh, Church that Works (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2004), 257.

[7] Leith Anderson, Dying for Change (Minneapolis: Bethany House, 1990), 122.

[8] Eddie Gibbs, ChurchNext: Quantum Changes in How We Do Ministry (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2000), 19.

[9] McIntosh, Church that Works, 83-84. See also McIntosh, Taking Your Church to the Next Level (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009), 65-73, 134-44.

[10] Robert M. Mulholland, Invitation to a Journey: A Road Map for Spiritual Formation (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1993), 45-77. Mulholland discusses the relationship between spiritual gifts and personality drawing upon Reginald Johnson’s work in Celebrate, My Soul! (Wheaton: Victor Books, 1988). Mulholland defines “creation gifts” as “those personal and individual structures of our personality preferences that characterize our being and doing. These unique creation gifts are God’s means of grace for the enrichment of our community of faith, and our community of faith is the means by which God nurtures the fullness of our creation gifts” (50).

[11] I Corinthians 12-14; Romans 12:1-21

[12] Gary L. McIntosh, Biblical Church Growth: How You can Work with God to Build a Faithful Church (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2003), 112.

[13] Ibid., 116-19.

[14] S. Scott Bartchy, “Table Fellowship,” in Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels, ed. J.B.Green and S. McKnight (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1992), 797.

[15] For an exhaustive discussion of Jesus’ radicalization of kinship group sensibilities including table fellowship see Joe Hellerman, The Ancient Church as Family. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2001). Or, see a more popular rendition of this book, When the Church was a Family: Recapturing Jesus’ Vision for Authentic Christian Community (Nashville: B&H Academic, 2009).

[16] Eddie Gibbs, ChurchMorph: How Megatrends are Reshaping Christian Communities (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 47.

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Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived

Posted on April 13, 2011 by Lee Ann Zanon

By Rob Bell, HarperOne, 2011

Reviewed by Dr. Kent Kersey, Associate Professor of Ministries

Let me start by saying that I’ve been a fan of Rob Bell. I have used his NOOMA video series many times to illustrate various message points. I’ve benefited from reading his books. I even paid to see him in person a few years ago. I believe Rob Bell is sincerely trying to live out what he sees as Jesus’ way of life.

Despite his sincerity, however, he’s carelessly teaching some bad theology these days. After reading his latest book, Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived, I must conclude that he is a theological innovator (theological innovation is not a good thing) who has introduced heresy into the church based on good intentions mixed with bad methodology. In short, it’s impossible to take Bell’s erroneous views seriously since his strategy is so flawed.

The most unfortunate aspect of Bell’s book is his overly-poetic style. Trying to find cogent insights here is like attempting to build an eschatology based on Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” Bell’s previous book employed 326 endnotes to establish his arguments; many of these were long and detailed notes. There is not one endnote in this book. Bell wants to be taken seriously as a theologian while remaining elusively hip and lyrical.

The basic argument of the book goes like this: the most important thing about God is His love. Love is essentially unconditional acceptance of people. Therefore, since God loves people, He accepts them unconditionally. This categorical acceptance reveals itself ultimately in an eternal, eschatological union with God for everyone. As much as Bell wants to evade the label, he does sound a lot like a universalist. Bell makes many theological errors in this book. These errors, however, are largely the result of his poor methodology. Specifically, this review will uncover Bell’s erroneous treatment of love, his deviation from orthodoxy, and his poor logic.

At the very beginning of the book, Bell states, “First, I believe that Jesus’ story is first and foremost about the love of God for every single one of us. It is a stunning, beautiful, expansive love, and it is for everybody, everywhere.” The only textual support he gives to back up this claim is the first phrase of John 3: 16, “For God so loved the world . . .” That’s it. This is a classic case of question begging; an unsubstantiated premise leads ultimately to unsupported conclusions.

Unless Bell can back up his claim that love is God’s most basic quality, his conclusions must be doubted.  C. S. Lewis warns us that if we aren’t careful, the proposition, “God is love” can become “Love is God.”  Bell’s definition of love is the god of his theology. His notion of divine unconditional acceptance of all leads to his universalist claims.

The second problem with Bell’s methodology is his loose treatment of the Christian tradition. The following quote is long, but worth including here:

And then, last of all, please understand that nothing in this book hasn’t been taught, suggested, or celebrated by many before me. I haven’t come up with a radical new teaching that’s any kind of departure from what’s been said an untold number of times. That’s the beauty of the historic, orthodox Christian faith. It’s a deep, wide, diverse stream that’s been flowing for thousands of years, carrying a staggering variety of voices, perspectives, and experiences. If this book, then, does nothing more than introduce you to the ancient, ongoing discussion surrounding the resurrected Jesus in all its vibrant, diverse, messy, multivoiced complexity—well, I’d be thrilled.

Bell’s pledge to orthodoxy betrays his acknowledgment of potential heresy charges. His redefinition of orthodoxy must be rejected. Orthodoxy, by definition, is not a wide, diverse stream; it is a narrow, homogeneous stream. The point isn’t that Bell’s universalist teachings haven’t been proposed before. The point is that they have been taught and rejected. The essence of orthodoxy is not variance and diversity, but consensus and uniformity.

The third problem with Bell’s methodology is his careless use of argumentation. There are a number of times when he disingenuously poses arguments and points of support that, on closer examination, reveal sloppy writing and thinking. Consider the following quote:

Will “all the ends of the earth” come, as God has decided, or only some? Will all feast as it’s promised in Psalm 22, or only a few? Will everybody be given a new heart, or only a limited number of people? Will God, in the end, settle, saying: “Well, I tried, I gave it my best shot, and sometimes you just have to be okay with failure”? Will God shrug God-size shoulders and say, “You can’t always get what you want”?

A first year philosophy student could identify this as the logical fallacy of the excluded middle. Bell gives us only two choices. Either the loving, powerful God will save everyone or he is not strong enough to save everyone. He provides no other choices.

In one of the book’s most grievous inaccuracies, Bell calls on Luther to support the possibility of postmortem evangelism. Bell writes, “In a letter Martin Luther, one of the leaders of the Protestant Reformation, wrote to Hans von Rechenberg in 1522 about the possibility that people could turn to God after death, asking: ‘Who would doubt God’s ability to do that?’” Bell clearly implies that Luther sees postmortem evangelism as a live option. A cursory reading of Luther’s actual letter, however, reveals his complete opposition to Bell’s line of reasoning. Luther says that Bell’s type of speculation is dangerous since it holds a worldly view of love and compassion over against God’s glorious judgment.

In conclusion, then, I would say that Bell’s book raises important questions about personal eschatology. However, due to careless use of sources and argumentation, it’s hard to take his answers seriously. For those worried about Bell’s long term impact, don’t be. The strongest asset he offers in this book is his hipness and trendiness. And as we all know, those don’t last. I predict that this book will be out of style right around the same time his thick, black-rimmed glasses are no longer fashionable.

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