Incarnation and the Bible

I started reading Peter Enns recent book: Evolution of Adam, The: What the Bible Does and Doesn't Say about Human Origins. In chapter 1 he references that he operates from an incarnational view of the Bible. (I think this is the theme of his book Inspiration and Incarnation, and a brief introduction can be found here. I really find this language attractive!


Theologically we say that the incarnation of Christ (his coming to earth as a human) means he was fully and perfectly human, and fully and perfectly divine, yet remained one person. (Two natures, one person). How this actually works out can be very complicated, and to some extent is beyond my comprehension, but it makes for a very powerful metaphor for Scripture. What I mean is the Bible is both a human and divine. Sometimes we evangelicals like to make it mostly if not entirely divine, (as in “these are the very words of God”), and I’m sure many have a knee jerk reaction to the “humanity” of Scripture as mere liberalism.

But the truth is it is both, and that is a good and necessary thing.

I think a good starting point to define these could be:

The humanity of Scripture

1. Language - Language is inherently symbolic, so the humanity of Scripture means it includes our metaphors, symbols, language, and so on in order to communicate its message. I think this is really important because sometimes we look at “divine texts” as very abstract, proverbial statements that require a lot of interpretation, and even more so because of human finitude often result in a wide variety of interpretation. But I think the humanity of the Bible means that there is a message, and it’s intended to be understood because it uses our language. There still might be some differences of opinion, but it’s not because there is no message but because we are moving closer to that message


2. Context - Our humanity in a large part is defined by context. We inherently see the world from our perspective, our emotions, thoughts, ideas, and dreams are all shaped to some degree by our various contexts in life (whether career, relationships, geographic, demographic, etc.). I think the Bible has the same context because each author speaks from a unique perspective with a unique voice. We’d be at a huge loss if we didn’t have four different Gospels with very different personalities. I don’t mean they contradict one another, but they do offer unique perspectives on Jesus that I think complement one another very well to give us a fuller picture of Jesus. So we have to acknowledge that the Bible is written from a particular context, just as we have to acknowledge that we read and study it from a particular context. One important question that has to be wrestled with is how we distinguish between historical context and timeless message, but this is in many ways the heart of why we study the Bible!


3. Narrative - This is a popular buzzword, but I think narrative is another essential attribute of humanity. Our lives are an unfolding story, and story is a primary way we communicate. (I am often amazed at how much of our conversation is telling stories!) I think story is how we express deep emotions, abstract ideas, and how we work through various conflicts and difficult scenarios (like ethical dilemmas)
   

The Divinity of Scripture

1. Authority - If this is really an inspired message from God, then it must carry the full authority of God. We might differ on what inspired means, but at the end of the day, I think it’s important to acknowledge that if the Bible is at all true, then it must stand with the full authority of God behind it.


2. Unity - While the humanity pushes us towards diversity, I think the divinity of the Bible pushes us towards unity. While there are some beautiful differences in the Bible, at the end of the day it does tell a unified story, with a unified picture of God, his love for humanity, and his story of redemption. I do think however that those who overemphasize the divinity will often overemphasize this point (e.g. proof texting).


3. Truth - I could have used the word inerrant, but that word is just too loaded to accomplish anything productive. What I mean here though is that the Bible, as a message from God who is the creator of the universe, communicates a true message. Some might disagree on whether this should include the details of the narrative, but in my mind the very least we can say is it must include the message. I believe this demands that if we want to accept this message, we cannot just compartmentalize truth in our minds: we cannot have the “truth of science”, the “truth of psychology”, the “truth of my experience”, and the “truth of the Bible”. Truth simply means what really exists. Since God is the God of truth, it is therefore important for us to have a unified view of truth and work through some of the tough questions when our different worlds of truth disagree.
   

I think this is a good starting point for our view of the Bible. We might think ourselves more pious if we emphasize the divinity, or more sophisticated if we emphasize the humanity, but we need both. Honestly, overemphasizing the divinity strikes me as a form of idolatry, and overemphasizing the humanity really empties the Bible of any useful substance. Just as Jesus’ incarnation means the uniting of two very different natures in a profound and mysterious way, I think the Bible is a uniting of the divine and human to result in a profound and true message.

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Tough Questions

A few months ago a man named Rob Bell released a book that has stirred up quite a storm in the church. This book raised a number of important questions about the Christian view of Hell, and really hit a nerve with the church on the question of the character of God. Questions like, why would God condemn people to hell for eternity? For that matter, why did God command some of the things he commanded in the Bible? Why do very morally upright people not have a better chance at knowing God?


These questions are punctuated by even more questions, such as why do Christians today spend more time excluding people based on their different views of Jesus, why is pronouncing judgment such a popular theme, why do Christians seem more interested in getting into heaven than anything else happening today? And I’m not even going to get into those Christians who cannot separate their politics from their faith….

These questions aren’t unique to Rob Bell. Whatever we may think of it, the reality is our culture today has a certain view of morality that cannot mesh with a surface understanding of the biblical portrayal of God. I’m not just talking about things like genocide in the Old Testament, I mean the fact that a loving God might condemn the majority of humanity to eternal torment simply for not responding favorably to something they might not even have heard of. The category of “loving and moral God” makes sense, but “loving and judging” God is a flat contradiction.

On the one side you have a group that cannot reconcile the presentation of the character of God with their most basic sense of morality, and other is bewildered why the questions are even being asked. One side feels disenfranchised, frustrated, confused, and cries out for better answers, while the other confidently lists their theological points, but effectively is a “resounding gong”. The latter doesn’t want to legitimize the questions, and the other can’t move past the questions. Worse than that, you have many “big names” in the church that seem more eager to label those asking the questions as heretics and move on as if the problem is solved. These are tough questions for a reason: they reflect deep misgivings about the picture of God that we see in the Bible. These misgivings are to the point that I think some (maybe many?) are unable to have biblical trust and faith in a God like that.

So the question is how can we arrive at the answers to these questions? I don’t think we can just dismiss the questions as immature and move on, nor can we give the traditional answers to questions about hell or the problem of evil. While these certainly are true, they aren’t connecting in a meaningful way with many in a way that offers some resolution to these challenging questions. The problem is there are so many differences between this world view and these questions being asked that this list of answers falls very short. Further, these answers come across more as a defense of an immoral God and do very little to really get at the heart of the problem. Arguing from the debt of sin, appealing to “mystery” or God’s transcendence all fall flat. I don’t think those answers are ever meant to depict God as a capricious, arbitrary moral monster, yet because of this radical disconnect they end up having quite the opposite effect of what was intended. Many inside and outside of the faith are turned off because it seems foolish (if not sociopathic) to devote one’s life to a God that defies all of our notions of morality. So answers just end up coming across as cop-outs, and I don’t believe really help people move closer to the Gospel.

I think we really are at a crisis where the church has got to do a better job of contextualizing the Gospel. I don’t just mean contextualize to those outside the faith but even to those inside as well. On the one hand, we will never escape the “offense” of the Gospel (that path is fraught with peril). But on the other, failing to rightly contextualize the Gospel is just adding offense. The worldviews are so different today that I think it’s very easy to forget the urgency of good contextualization. That word normally is used of in extreme cross-cultural interactions (such as bringing the Gospel to some unreached tribe in Africa), but I think the same need exists in American churches today. In failing to lovingly communicate the truth of the Gospel in the context of the Gospel, we’ve portrayed the Gospel as something altogether different than it really is. The fact that some perceive the Gospel as “fire insurance” or “a few lucky people make it in” reveals significant misunderstanding and confusion. Some seem to believe the Gospel is just a set of theological beliefs and/or a moral code, or just heaven. As a good friend of mine likes to say, it certainly is no less than these, but it’s certainly much more! It’s an invitation to a life of devotion to God, a life of transformation, having real life, joy, hope, and being a part of his world and his way. The Gospel is supposed to be good news, but in today’s discussion it’s quite the opposite. Topics like hell take on a very different flavor when we start with this picture of the Gospel. Questions like “why would God send some people to hell” become “why would some people reject all that God has to offer?” I don’t mean to over simplify the issue, I know there is so much more to these questions than this answer alone gives, but I think this is the sort of biblical starting place we must have.

So contextualization has to start with understanding what the Gospel meant. This isn’t easy work, and to honestly engage these questions we have to be willing to reevaluate anything based on where the text leads us. How can we bring the good news to today if we don’t even understand what the good news was, or we’re spending more time clinging to our notion of the good news? When we start with what Scripture said in its context we let the Gospel retain its biblical flavor, and ultimately its truth retains its real power. When we approach questions such as genocide in the OT in their historical context, we see the text not portraying an evil genocidal God, but a Holy God and ultimately a moral and gracious God. But if we divorce the events from the text, it’s very easy to lose this focus. It’s really unfair to the text, because we say “this happened, how could God ever do such a thing” without letting the text give its answer. This also means that if we are to retain the Gospel’s flavor in its context, we have to take care in what we emphasize. If we find ourselves preaching more about hell and judgment than the offer of salvation and life I think we’ve already lost the discussion.

But taking these tough questions and arriving at a clearly understanding of what Scripture teaches isn’t enough. Contextualization means taking this truth and bridging it to our culture. In some ways I think this is even harder, because it doesn’t just mean we pick up a book and study, but it means we’re actively engaged with the world around us. We’re reading the same books others are reading, we’re watching the same media they are watching, we’re engaged in the same discussions, actively listening to their points of view and not jumping down their throats to rip apart their argument (as tempting as it might be!) It’s not just connection but it's a deep level of discernment, humility, love, and grace that actively pursues a better understanding of where people are at. We can’t really speak the truth of the Gospel into a world and culture we know very little about, or people who we have very little connection with. We have to really understand what’s going on. If our answer to the question of hell is a list of theological conclusions alongside a few Bible verses, we’ve failed to connect this to people’s lives. We’ve failed to discern why these questions are being asked, we’ve failed to bridge the world views at play. This is why the status quo doesn’t work.

Perhaps some just aren’t interested in the answers Christianity really has to offer, and that is their right as creatures with free will, (although it’s no less a tragedy). My fear is that many with faith, many with open hearts to God, are having massive stumbling blocks dropped in their path. They have real and important questions, and the answers they are being given isn’t helping their faith grow. Being fed the tradition or theology isn’t enough and they either remain stuck in crisis or apathy and agnosticism. Maybe they just don't like the language of the answers, but I think for many they don't even understand why the answers are answers. They don't have a solid Christian world view, they don't have much of an understanding of the real substance of biblical truth, and so their walk is significantly hindered if not brought to a grinding halt. Some even tragically walk away.

The answer never can be anything other than the Gospel. God saves people, God’s truth, God’s way, by God’s power. But this is so much more than just a set of theological statements, so much more than a moral code, and so much more than mere traditions. The reality, the beauty, and the surpassing greatness of God’s good news, rightly connected to people’s lives, is truly transforming and is truly good news that brings salvation. The tough questions are worth engaging, even if they challenge some of our deepest beliefs. After all, if God’s truth is what we believe it is, then it’s certainly up to the task. So we do need better answers, even if they aren’t different answers. We do need a better presentation of God’s character, a fuller understanding of what the Bible teaches, and a clearer Christian framework for discussing these tough questions and working through the answers exegetically, theologically, philosophically, emotionally, and spiritually. We need to contextualize the true good news that the Gospel represents. Our world needs this good news, our people want it, and our mission demands it.
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Resurrection: who dun it?

Today Christians worldwide celebrate the awesome truth and reality of Jesus' resurrection. This is the cornerstone of the Christian faith, and an equally powerful counterpoint to the cross. Paul is absolutely right: without the empty tomb, the Christian faith is in vain. Jesus resurrection has great theological significance: just as the cross dealt with sin, the resurrection brings life, hope, peace, and joy. Further, the resurrection is the capstone to Jesus' earthly ministry: it proves he wasn't a lie, it proves he was who he claimed to be: Messiah, the eternal Word of God, the Son of God.

But there's been one question that's been nagging at me for awhile: who is responsible for it?



Sunday school answers are appropriate here: God. Obviously so. But some argue more specifically: Jesus is responsible for it. This is a bit troubling, because by and large the New Testament places emphasis on the Father as the agent of the resurrection. Paul consistently teaches this, it's all throughout Acts, and shows up in Hebrews and 1 Peter.

For example, Paul consistently and regularly makes the Father the agent of the resurrection, (Rom. 4:24; 6:4; 10:9; 1 Cor. 6:14; 15:12-20; 2 Cor. 4:14; Gal. 1:1; Eph. 1:20; 2:5-6; Col. 2:12; 1 Thess. 1:10), Acts repeatedly names the Father (Acts 2:24; 2:32; 3:15; 4:10; 5:30; 10:40; 13:30; 13:33-34; 13:37; 17:31), and Hebrews and 1 Peter also echo this idea (Heb. 13:20; 1 Pet. 1:21).

Further, there are a number of passages where Jesus is “raised” without an agent mentioned, and most biblical commentators refer to these as “divine passives”, i.e. a passive verb where it is implied God is the agent. These are mostly in the Gospels before the resurrection. Some examples of this: Matt. 16:21; 17:9; 17:23; 20:19; 26:32; Mark 14:28; Luke 9:22; John 2:22; 21:14; Rom 6:9-10; 7:4; 8:34; 1 Cor. 15:4; 2 Cor. 5:15


This idea of Jesus raising himself is largely rooted in John 2:19: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up."

This might mean that Jesus was saying he himself by his own divinity would raise himself (that certainly is the more clear meaning from the words), but John explains Jesus’ statement in John 2:22 by using a divine passive: the disciples understood what Jesus was saying after “He was raised from the dead”. Further, given the overall context of John (that Jesus was living in submission to the Father’s will, John emphasizes this far more than the synoptics), I think Jesus’ point was more inclusive: he was going to be raised because he was doing the work of the Father and the resurrection was a part of God’s will.

His resurrection, just like his life, was in accordance with the Father’s will, and just as the Father on several occasions declared audibly to those around Jesus of this association, the resurrection is the ultimate vindication by the Father. There are parallels here with how the OT prophets functioned: they were commissioned by God, and on earth were representatives for God with such a unique and close association that their actions were considered the work of the Father. John 10:17-18 carries the same idea: we could say Jesus is saying he himself lays down his life and will take it again, but John explains that this isn’t a matter of agency but authority: the Father gives him the authority, and Jesus acts in accordance with the Father’s will.


Theologically this is important for a number of reasons:

1) Jesus’ identity or divinity wasn’t proven by his agency in the resurrection, but rather Jesus’ connection and association with the Father. The Father raised Jesus as a sign that Jesus was bringing the message of the Father, Jesus was doing the work of the Father, and ultimately Jesus was bringing redemption that the Father willed.

2) As a part of this, Jesus entire earth ministry was an act of humility and submission to the Father’s will (Phil. 2:5-11). By and large this is because Jesus on earth serves as a model for what discipleship looks like: in many ways we are continuing his work in his footsteps, with his triumph and victory in life as a source of hope for what God can do in our lives (e.g. Heb. 14:14-16).

3) Further, Jesus, as our great high priest, is the only mediator between God and man. I think a big point that Paul hits on repeatedly is that in Christ we not only have direct relational access to God, but also because of the Father raising Jesus from the dead, in Christ we have access to that same resurrection and life (e.g. Rom 6:1-11)

4) Finally, although this view sounds like it diminishes the divinity of Jesus on earth, I think it's his humanity which is the main focus of Jesus' earthly ministry. Theological balance is found in the reality of his pre-incarnation divinity, and the combination of both in his glorification. I know some like to argue that the entire trinity was involved with the resurrection (the Spirit could be argued from Rom. 8:11, although this could also apply to the Father). This certainly is true, and we don't want to overemphasize the division of the persons of the Trinity. However, the fact that the Scripture's reflection on the resurrection makes a point to emphasize the Father's agency leads me to think we do the text a disservice to make it all about the unified Godhead. We diminish the distinctions amongst the persons of the Trinity and their distinctive roles, we loose the primacy of the Father's will and his action, and especially we de-emphasize the humanity of Jesus while he was on earth.

At the end of the day, this is a minor theological point. The real important point is the historical reality of the empty tomb, but it's also important to emphasize that Jesus' ministry on earth wasn't as a loan ranger: He came at the behest of the Father's will, in submission to the Father's will, to model true submission and discipleship so that in Him, we might also know and glorify the Father.


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Counter Balance

I like to talk sometimes about maintaining balance, that many things in life, philosophy, theology, and so on require balancing between two "extremes" to find truth.

This is certainly a good thing, and there are plenty of examples of its fruitfulness. However, I've been thinking some tonight about some of the downsides (dangers?) of "balance".



The problem is we live in a culture obsessed with "balance".

This kind can be philosophical pluralism, (all views are equally valid options). Sometimes this is sociological: we want to (over?)-represent those who are perceived as under-represented (such as race, culture, gender, sexual orientation, etc.). Sometimes it is perspective: postmodernism has taught us that everyone sees the world differently -- and so we want to understand how others perceive the world. (Jane Espenson had an awesome quote at Comicon... she was asked about how she's contributed to the writing of female characters as the only female writer in BSG, she essentially said "I don't think you have to be a female to write good female characters"). Or it can be in the realm of ideas: we want the "under dog" to ultimately triumph over either evil oppressors (of ideas especially), or the willfully ignorant.

The word "balance" itself can mean a lot of things, such as a new-age peace with self / universe, or a form of mental/emotional health. "Balance" can be more of a cop-out to sound "smart" when you really don't have good answers for difficult questions. "Balance" can also be a mask for something that is not really balanced.


So in light of all these options, what is this balance (in regards to theology, and more importantly the Christian mind) that I talk way to much about? Well.. this isn't exhaustive, but a few ideas I had to distinguish it from some of the examples above:

1) Balance between "extremes"
This would hopefully go without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway. Just because there likely is balance to be found between "extremes" does not mean all "extremes" are equally valid. In fact, for such "balance" to occur, there actually is required to have two "extremes" that contain valid elements worth striking a balance between.

What makes it valid? My initial thought is that it has some "significant" explication of truth that justifies the question of balance. Another form of this would be minor revision: perhaps one view is almost entirely wrong, but only has a sliver of truth, that the counter point simply has to slightly modify itself to incorporate that truth.

The point here is that "balance" is a movement towards truth: not just pluralism, and not just...

2) Synthesis
"Balance" is trying to synthesize the elements of truth in the views under question into something close to the truth. This isn't a "pure" synthesis, because you are only dealing with specific aspects of a view, (or making minor alterations to one view). I think my point here is that sometimes "balance" between two views means blurring lines so that "both can be right" without really answering any of the tensions. This really doesn't strike me as a movement towards truth, but rather a movement away from conflict.

This isn't a pure "synthesis", there is no real option of Calminiasm or such. Instead, it is recognizing the points of value and truth and trying to synthesize these points in a way that is harmonious with scripture's presentation of these themes.

3) Scriptural
That last sentence is the more important: we're not just taking claim A, finding its element of truth and fitting it in with the element of truth in claim B. We're taking what seems to be true of both, and finding out where the "balance" or "synthesis" of the two is within the actual themes of scripture. This isn't always possible, and that's why we have systematic theology: to at least present our best reasoning of how these themes can work together. But the goal is to find where the "balance" lies within the text of scripture, and not just some made-up formula.

A harder example is the presence and future of God's Kingdom. This is an example of more true "balance" and less "synthesis", because scripture fluctuates between the two. There isn't a clear "middle ground", but much more of a "tension" in the sense that there are aspects of the kingdom that are present, and aspects that are yet future.

4) Humility
I don't want to sound mean here... but there seems to be this perception that to be a good, grounded theologian, scholar, or minister, you have to at least be sure of what you do know, and have a lot of answers. On the one hand, I would agree that to function well in those positions, you better have a solid grasp of things, but at the same time, true "balance" is found in recognizing the difference between "gray areas" of truth and those that are rock solid. I wouldn't think much of a minister who wavered on things like the unique sufficiency of Christ's work, or the complete authority of Scripture.

That's all I have for now, but hopefully the picture I'm trying to paint is clear enough, or at least getting there. I suspect that the hardest point here is actually determining the validity of a claim and whether it is worthy actually trying to strike a balance. But this at least seems to be a basic component of good critical thinking. And ultimately, that's all I've really been talking about.


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Initial thoughts on Poythress' Symphonic Theology

So I've finally made my way (mostly) through the short monograph by Poythress called "Symphonic Theology". My dad bought me a copy several years ago because he was so thoroughly impressed with the work. This was one of those books he read nearly a dozen times, and filled every white space in the book with notes. For whatever reason, I never really took this as a positive cue to read it for myself.

Anyway, so I just finished it.


Poythress unpacks (briefly) a hermeneutic based on the principle of "symphonic theology". At its core, this hermeneutic is concerned with understanding the variety of perspectives behind the language of the biblical books, and the value in discerning this variety in building one's interpretive method and ultimately theology.

Its hard for me to really define what distinguishes "symphonic theology" from "biblical theology", even though the latter has meant several different things in academia over the last 100 years. Biblical theology started as basically a movement towards a more historical approach to biblical interpretation. While at Talbot the hermeneutic I was trained in, which was called Biblical theology, was essentially the same as Poythress' "symphonic theology". I think the difference here was between a more historical approach and a hermeneutic that was historically inclined that also takes advantage of modern linguistics. For this reason, a lot of what Poythress was taking about was very familiar.

In fact the few authors I have read on modern biblical linguistics are regularly quoted by Poythress (Carson, Silva, and Barr). This understanding of linguistics has made a very positive (in my opinion) impact on biblical studies because it challenges prior mistaken understandings of how words work, in contrast to more traditional systematic approaches.

Overall I was very impressed with Poythress' work and enjoyed it thoroughly. My one complaint is that several times Poythress' use of words (ironically enough) was not as nuanced as I would have liked. A few times, I was unsure if he was leaning more towards a relativistic hermeneutic. However, after finishing the majority of the book, this is clearly not his goal, in fact he's very intentional in not letting this hermeneutic fall into relativism.

Finally, I think one area that needs better development (or I just need to think more about it) is his approach to bringing perspectives and questions to a passage. One the one hand, this seems like a very dangerous hermeneutic, but on the other I can see the legitimacy of trying to approach passages from different perspectives. In the former case, you are in danger of interpreting a passage by a preconceived idea. However, I think Poythress' intention was to simply challenge our assumed perspectives on a passage by seeing if other perspectives shed any light on the meaning. There is certainly a need for care in one's exegesis here as it seems like a precarious balance to maintain.

On the whole, I would highly recommend this book to a wide range of people. I'm not sure how accessible it is to those with less biblical training, but the perspective he articulates ultimately is important for all Christians in our humble quest for truth from God's Word.

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The Gospel in the Bible's Language

Lately I've been reflecting on the Gospel, and what the true significance of being a Christian really is. What is core? In some respects this is a very simple question, in others its been a challenge.

I'd like to say I've shared the gospel with others so much the whole thing is second nature, but that's simply not the truth. One thing that bugs me a bit is that usually our concept and presentation of the Gospel is so thoroughly defined by systematic theology. This isn't wrong per se, but I'd imagine it can make the Bible a bit hard to understand for new believers. After all, the language of the Gospel they accepted is just very different from the story of redemption in the Bible. So what would the Gospel presentation look like if we just used biblical language?

I've been trying to think of ways to present the Gospel using the language and categories of scripture, that would still make the Gospel accessible but at the same time be close enough in proximity to the key themes and points of the Bible that a new believer would have a "head start" of sorts.

I'm certainly not there yet. What follows is a working "rough draft" of sorts. It's also a lot longer than what a practical presentation would have to be. Some details need to be cut out (like the part about covenant), others are already cut (such as details concerning the atonement). I included some examples of passages that seem to reflect certain points, but please don't treat these as "proof texts", as they certainly aren't intended that way, and since they are mostly off the top of my head, they certainly aren't exhaustive.

Thoughts / comments / ideas / critique / whatever would be great

What is the Gospel about?

• The problem - Our world isn’t right; it has a lot of problems
  
  
  
  • Why was man created?
    
    • Bible begins story in Garden pointing that man was created for fellowship with God
    • Man uniquely created in God's image, man uniquely entrusted with stewardship over creation
    • Man freely chose to break this fellowship, bringing sin into creation
    
    
  • According to the Bible, Sin is the root of the world’s problems
    
    • Sin is fundamentally an anti-God perspective (Rom. 1)
    • Because of the fall, sin entered the world and everything was affected (Rom. 5, 8)
    • More importantly, because of fall all people are now slaves to sin (Rom. 1:18-19; 5:12-14; 6:23; Jam. 1:15)
    
    
  • What's so bad about sin? Sin brings death:
    • Physical -- we weren't created to die
    • Spiritual -– Sin breaks down our fellowship with God, and so we are considered spiritually dead
    • Eternal -- Because of sin, everyone is in danger of spending eternity in a place of separation, judgment, and condemnation
    • God is equally just and loving, and so although he loves people, he cannot tolerate sin and must condemn those who are sinful
    
    
  • The problem then is:
    • Creation has been corrupted due to sin
    • Humanity, created to be in fellowship with God, is now in danger of eternal condemnation and separation from God
    
    
• The Climax of God’s story of redemption
  • God’s love and mercy for humanity drives him to act in history to bring redemption (Rom. 5:8)
  
  
  • God’s Kingdom is pictured as invading the earthly kingdom of evil (1 Cor. 15:23-25)
  
  
  • Redemption: rescuing from kingdom of this world and transferring membership to God’s Kingdom (Col. 1:13; Acts 26:18; Eph 5:8)
  
  
  • God's redemption is centered on covenant:
    
    • Covenant is God's promise to people to bring redemption
      
    • Old covenant was:
      
      • God's establishing of a people to be a nation that drew people to God
        
      • God revealing his standard of righteousness through law which is an important part of covenant faithfulness
        
      • Failed because people were not faithful (Heb. 8)
        
      
      
    • New covenant is:
      
      • Not "separate" from the old, but rather a natural progression and fulfillment of the old
        
      • Establishing a people without national distinction to now proclaim God's message to the world
        
      • Succeeds because of Jesus' faithfulness (Heb. 8)
      
      
  • Jesus is the fulfillment, center and climax of God’s story of redemption:
    
    • His life: proclaiming and living the Kingdom, and fulfill the expectations of the coming Messiah King
      
    • His death: sacrifice necessary to redeem us from condemnation (John 3:18; Rom. 8:1)
      
    • His resurrection: bringing life and restoring our fellowship with God (Rom. 5:12, 15, 18-19; 6:4-11)
      
  
  What does it look like to be redeemed?
  
  
  
  • Our new identity
    
    • Dead to sin, alive to righteousness (Rom. 6; John 1:13)
      
    • This life includes our minds/hearts/attitudes/etc being continually transformed, renewed, and reoriented towards God (Rom 12:1-2; Col 3; Eph. 4:15)
      
    • This life includes an identity marked by pursuing righteousness (Matt. 5:48; Eph. 4:22-24)
      
    • This is a fundamental reversal of the effect of sin: instead of being anti-God because of the fall, we are now pro-God
    
    
  • New Life includes:
    
    • Peace (Rom. 5:1; Eph. 2:14-15)
      
    • Joy (John 15:11)
      
    • Hope/Confidence/Assurance (Rom. 8:23-24; 1 Tim. 4:10; Heb. 4:16; 6:17-19)
      
    • Membership in God's family (Rom. 8:15; John 1:12)
      
    
    
  • Enduring trials today for rewards in eternity (Rom 8:18)
    
  
  What is required to get in?
  
  • Not by works (Rom 3:20 etc)
    
  • Repentance (Mark 1:15)
    
    • Turning from sin to God (Rom. 6:12-13)
      
    • Obedience
      
    
    
  • Believe (Mark 1:15)
    
    • Faith is the only basis for salvation (Rom 4:5)
      
    • Trusting in God
      
    • Submitting our unique gift of free will, desires, and expectations to God
      
    
    

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Approaching Theological Difficulties

Good theology is a difficult endeavor. After all, it is the assimilation of inferences from occasioned documents, (not to mention the historical distance involved). The authors themselves make a lot of assumptions about the knowledge of their respective audiences. It is understandable then that there are several important “tensions” that arise in theology between the various emphasizes of authors.

Today, I want to reflect on thinking more seriously about these tensions in our formulation of theology.


One great and classic example is our doctrine of the Trinity. Scripture is strongly monotheistic, and there is little evidence that the early church saw themselves diverting from this core Jewish belief. Yet, in the New Testament there is a clear distinction between the members of the Godhead, both in their action and in how they relate to one another. Another good example is the relationship of Christ’s humanity and divinity. The church recognized these as tensions early on, (as can be seen by the numerous councils and debates). With such central definition about the nature of God, the church took great care to preserve both “poles” of such tensions. In fact, whenever a particular theology would loose sight of this balance, it was quickly refuted as heresy.

Despite the countless pages of thinking recorded on these questions, no real solution is ever offered. No theological grid is able to be imposed on the poles of the doctrine of the trinity. The truths of scripture are taken at face value, and using principles of logic and reason within the context of scripture, boundaries are placed around these truths. The only theological “structure” that works seems to be the one that doesn’t actually solve how God can be both three and one, but only defines as closely as possible the barriers around those two truths that scripture allows. This isn’t an elegant process, but it really is all we have to work on.

The reality is that most doctrines about the nature of God fall short, because a finite being is attempting to define the infinite. God is beyond our perceptible logic. This does not mean he defies logic, because I believe that our notion of reason and logic are derived from the existence of God. After all, God did choose to reveal himself through scripture so that we might at least taste the smallest portion of his infinite nature, certainly enough to know Him and worship Him.

But what bugs me is this whole methodology seems to fall apart when we approach the sovereignty vs. responsibility question. Instead of taking the truths of scripture and trying to zero in and build boundaries around those truths, we try to contort those truths into one of several structures. What should remain “mystery” is fitted into something that is thoroughly logical (to a finite mind). These aren’t arbitrary (though sometimes they seem to be), but rather start with one set of propositions in scripture (such as God’s sovereignty) and work outward.

The reality is that just like the modalist or the docetist, the Calvinist has to redefine freedom in order to preserve his notion of sovereignty. Freedom is more an illusion created in order to meet their interpretation of several key passages about God’s sovereignty. Likewise, the Arminian tries to follow an interpretation of several key passages about the consequences of man’s free choices, but often has little to say about God’s sovereignty, and certainly there is not always a clear distinction made between actualized responsibility and merit.

This is a bit of a different question than the nature of the trinity, because it is inherently personal. It defines our relationship with God, and has far reaching implications. The doctrine of the trinity or the nature of Christ, while very important to our faith, do not have such radical personal effects. They are abstracted, only insofar as they deal with God himself and not specifically us, (though certainly they can affect how we view God and how we approach him).

The problem is further complicated by the fact that a lot of the discussion concerning sovereignty vs. responsibility includes a lot of basic questions to humanity: what is the nature of freedom, i.e. do we really make free choices, and to what degree to outside causes influence us? Even questions such as purpose and existence come into play here.

Here is my thought: is it possible to discard a lot of these structures and instead approach the issue in a similar way to that of the trinity and the nature of Christ? Can we take at face value the fact that God is fully sovereign over creation, but humans remain responsible for their free choices? Carson made the point that any Bible believing Christian must be a compatibalist, and in one sense I agree. If we define compatibalism as that God’s sovereignty is compatible with human freedom then absolutely, (this is not the philosophical definition of compatibalism).

But is it possible to operate this way? Can we begin the same way we begin with the Trinity: take the “basic” assumption of sovereignty being compatible with responsibility (after all both are assumed in scripture) and proceed to narrow in on how scripture limits these two? As attractive as this sounds to me, I seriously wonder if this is even possible with the issue of sovereignty and responsibility for several reasons.

First, there is just so much history of thought influencing our categories. It seems many inherently fall into one of the two camps in their thinking, in how they approach God, and in how they read scripture. This issue affects so much of what we understand in scripture that it can be difficult (if not dangerous) to radically rework the whole system. Great care must be taken to evaluate our own presuppositions, but also to make sure we aren’t throwing out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.

Second, this is dealing with a question of degrees of emphasis, whereas the doctrine of the Trinity was usually polarizing (at least in my understanding of things). I am not certain if this distinction changes the methodology, but it is certainly worth noting.

Third, such a method would be very hard to teach. People need answers that are relatively straightforward, but this method ends up asking more questions and avoiding neat distinctions. This is the greatest appeal of the Calvinist system of theology: it is relatively comprehensive, and it is very neat and organized.

Finally, it might be easy to end up with no real theology, just a collection of unconnected propositions. In an age when logical coherence is already a low priority for most people, this might just foster another grab bag of theological ideas from which people can pick and choose as they please. The reality is that there is no such thing as a Calminian, because both systems have directly opposed propositions. I heard one professor say once he thought that some biblical writers were more Calvinist and others more Arminian. This certainly is attractive, that both systems in some way describe God, but it is also disturbing because it certainly redefines (if not undermines) our understanding of Scripture’s unity.

All these problems are important, but I still wonder if such a method could ever work. Certainly there are important questions that would have to be resolved for it to work, and it would take a lot of work to resolve the implications of any results. But I think what is most important is that in however we do our theology, we always allow scripture to refine us. If even a few verses clearly teach something outside of our theology, then we must rework things. After all, all scripture is inspired and authoritative, and whatever theology we come up with should do the best justice to all of it, not as much as our system allows.

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Analogy of Scripture

I want to talk a bit about the analogy of scripture. This is also known as the principle of scripture interpreting scripture. The reasoning behind this goes something like this:
God is the source of truth and is unified without contradiction
Scripture is God’s revelation, so it to reflects his character of truth and unity
Because of this, we can use scripture to interpret scripture
Because of this, the more difficult passages should be interpreted by the clear passages


However, I think there are a number of dangers with this reasoning.

1) This reduces the theology of scripture to basic formulas of logic. We must assume that the Bible in all its diversity (of authors, times, etc.) results in a perfect mathematical unified picture of theology. The reality is that this simply is not the case. Good biblical scholarship rightly recognizes the tension of various themes. For example, we presently experience the kingdom and its blessings in Christ, the promises of God have been fulfilled in the present. Thus, we have a realized eschatology -- the future is now. But in tension with this is the reality that things are not all right, the promises are not fulfilled entirely. We still wait for the return of our king and fullness of his kingdom. This is a future eschatology. The New Testament clearly points to both. We cannot reduce this tension to a simple philosophical formula. Any understanding of the Trinity or incarnation of Christ clearly reflects this tension. Any good study of the issue of divine sovereignty and human freedom should reflect this.

There is fundamentally a difference between biblical tension and biblical contradiction. The Trinity might be construed as a contradiction, but biblically it is a tension. There are themes that stress both the division and unity of God. The reality is that God’s truth is complex and infinitely surpasses our finite human understanding. This does not allow for God’s truth to be clearly a contradiction, but it does mean that there are aspects of God’s character and action that we cannot fully break down and understand. This is a very difficult line to walk, as there are plenty of theologians who affirm tension, but for all practical purposes describe contradiction. This is also difficult because there is a lot of ambiguity as to how to avoid affirming contradiction without “ironing out” a tension.

2) It is difficult to decide what “clear” and “difficult” passages are. There are no biblical criteria. The reality is that there are biblical themes that lie in tension. It seems as if there are no checks and balances for the exegete in deciding what passages are clear. It is all to easy to instead reduce passages which contradict one’s theological system as the “difficult”, and the passages that are in harmony as “clear”. The best example I can think of is Hebrews 6:4-6. This passage brings out some of the worst of some of the best exegetes. Calvinists come up with a number of different options for how to understand this apparent “difficult” passage (because they reject that believers can fall away) and appeal to John 6:37-39 (one of the strongest affirmations of Calvinism). Arminians likewise stumble over this passage, not because it apparently teaches that believers can fall away, but because if it happens it is permanent.

3) This principle can circumvent the basic principles of exegesis. Unlike #2, some theologians will simply rule out some interpretations while exegeting a passage based on prior theological conviction (which in turn is based on certain passages). It is unfortunate, but these same theologians will describe how “the whole testimony of scripture” stands against this interpretive option, so it cannot be allowed. But this is not good exegesis. If the option is reasonable within the bounds of literary and historical context, then it should be given a fair hearing.

4) This reverses the exegetical process. The process of exegesis begins with the smaller parts and works towards the whole. This means you have to start with each sentence, putting together what it means. This then is interpreted in the context of paragraphs, chapters, and books. (This is essentially Osborne’s hermeneutical spiral: the spiral from small units of thought to context and back again, ideally ever spiraling closer and closer to the truth). Once one has a good grasp on the themes and meaning of a book, then we can gather together all these themes and build the big picture of scripture. We cannot start with a theological system, because this will impose meaning on exegesis.

Of course, nobody actually can function this way. We all have a theology even if we do not think we do. The point is that we must always be letting the text itself challenge our theology, so that in the same we the hermeneutical spiral uses context to interpret words, and words to interpret context, the text will shape our theology, so that our theology conforms to the text and not our presuppositions.



What are the benefits of this principle, if the above cautions are heeded? First and foremost, it is necessary to achieve the “big picture” of scripture. Each book has its own set of themes, and each author has a purpose and intended shape for these themes. But these themes also build off of each other. For example, Sailhamer argues that all of scripture is essentially a commentary and exposition on the Pentateuch. That the themes of the Pentateuch are repeated, expanded, and commented on by every biblical author. This means that if Paul’s doctrine of justification is such a commentary, then we first need to understand the themes of sin, grace, debt, redemption, forgiveness, etc. in the Pentateuch. Once we have a grasp of how those themes operate there, then we can move through the rest of scripture and observer those same themes, ultimately arriving at Paul and seeing how Paul maneuvers these themes. In a sense, this process is just that: the text interpreting the text. But it is more watching how later authors comment and manipulate (in a positive way) prior biblical themes.

This is not an easy task. It requires a lot of work, and requires a solid comprehension of scripture. I would love to see somebody approach systematic theology in this way. Instead of repeating the questions, grids, and debates of the last 2000 years, they would assimilate the biblical themes and paint a systematic theology of biblical theology. Something like Ladd, something like Grudem, but something altogether different.
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There is Power in the Blood

As Christians, we cherish the theological truth of the power in Jesus' blood. Jesus' death on the cross is easily the center of Christianity. The worship song "There is power in the blood" articulates this notion, that there is power in Jesus' blood, "wonder working power". A few months ago, it struck me while spending some time in thought that Jesus' sacrifice rightly should stand as our center focus. After all, it was his blood that established the new covenant, it is by his blood that we will stand justified before God, and it is by his blood that God's plan for redeeming humanity is accomplished. What struck me though was that I could not think of any Biblical significance to the resurrection.

Paul certainly believes the resurrection is core, as he is willing to say that his entire ministry is in vain and his and the church's faith is in vain if Christ didn't actually rise from the dead, (1 Cor. 15:14). So the resurrection is certainly important, if for anything as a demonstration of God's power, and Christ's living presence today. But theologically, is this the entirety of its significance?

One might chime in at this point that in fact there is more, because the resurrection proves Jesus' deity. But the New Testament authors consistently attribute the power of Jesus' resurrection to the Father, and though theologically we could add a note here about the Trinity, this role / distinction should not be removed. However, there is in fact a lot more significance to the resurrection. There is a very good and solid theological basis for Paul's strong words about the importance of Jesus' resurrection. We must first begin by defining the significance of resurrection in a Biblical framework.

First, resurrection is most importantly a resurrection to life. This mostly goes without saying, but it cannot be overstressed. Man's fall into sin brought death. This curse was not only manifest itself in man dying (spiritually and likely physically Gen 3:19), but also all of creation suffered a curse. The undoing of this death obviously would need to be brought about by a new infusion of life. Paul says as much in Romans 5, that Jesus' death undid our enmity with God, but it is by his life that we are saved.

So, resurrection means new life. This infusion of life and restoration can be seen in the Old Testament prophets, (such as Jeremiah's stone of flesh). 1 Peter also picks up on this theme, that we are a part of a new creation, we have new life in salvation. This is seen again and again throughout the New Testament.

As Christians, I think we reduce Christianity to simply dealing with the problem of sin. We stress that Jesus not only paid the debt, but also stands in our place before God, so that God only sees Jesus' righteousness. In a more Pauline vein, we are redeemed from enslavement to sin and freed to live righteously to please our Father. Salvation is not just about having our debt of sin paid. In fact, I think that the issue of sin is actually secondary.

Sin is what brought our death and enslavement, and thus it has to be dealt with. But God's purpose was not just to pay a debt. His goal was redemption. The reason the Biblical narrative begins and ends with Eden is because Eden is God's goal. A righteous and pure human race that has an unhindered relationship with God. More than this, God wanted a restoration of all creation. New Creation is primarily about humanity, but Paul and John both see this applying to all of creation. Dealing with the debt of sin does not transform. Death is the problem, and it was caused by sin. So sin must be dealt with, but Jesus' sacrifice does not bring life, it only deals with the problem of sin. Of course we will admit that God makes us righteous, but it often seems like the details are averted to Sanctification, and then glossed over. How does God want to make us righteous?

The solution is new life, new creation. God wants to remove our slavery to sin by Christ's death, and pay our debt. But it is by the power of his resurrection that he wants to transform us. Jesus' resurrection is the first fruits of God's promised new creation. This is not only spiritual life, but physical life. New life means an undoing of physical death and decay. Our new bodies will not suffer the same ills as today, and thus Paul can say that Jesus' resurrection is the firstfruits of a wider physical resurrection of those already dead, (1 Cor. 15:20). We cannot relegate God's salvation only to our spiritual lives, it must encompass all of creation because God's kingdom is repeatedly couched in such language throughout scripture. One has a hard time studying John's theological of life and its biblical background to miss this. In the same line of thinking, Jesus' death brought the New Covenant, but the purpose of covenant is to bring life.

Many passages speak of our present experience of this new life. We are both freed from sin and giving this new life. Of course it is natural to expect this to be progressive in this already/not yet period. And naturally our hope is looking forward to its finality, when our transformation is completed (Christ's return and judgment).

So we need to celebrate Jesus' resurrection just as much if not more than his death. His death was necessary, but our only hope lies with his life. We are not slaves to sin, and we are new creations with new life. It is then fitting to say (as is often said in scripture) that we need to live a life that reflects this reality. Living a contrary life either points to the illegitimacy of what we proclaim (as in, one has not really experienced new life) or something very dangerous: one has experienced new life, but is choosing to live by his old life. I think it is in this light that we can see a clear application of the message of Hebrews: Jesus is far greater than anything we formerly had, so we need to press on and hold firmly to the faith we profess.
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Balance

I have been finding myself lately always harking on balance when in theological discussions. I think I want to write a book intitled “A balanced biblical theology” or something less cheesy. My dad has been big on “symphonic theology”, which from what he says seems to play on the same principle. At first I thought the notion that all theologies bring something good to the table, some element of truth, seemed too relativistic and pluralistic. In any case, I wanted to try and flesh out some of this, so a lot of this is more theological.

Recently I’ve been challenged on Protestantism vs. Catholicism. While I by all means see more right with Protestantism, I think it is often very easy to loose the good and truth in Catholicism.

Some recent examples: reading an article by Alister McGrath on a place for tradition in Protestantism. He argues that we should stand humble before the teachings of the church for the last 2000 years, that unlike Catholicism tradition isn’t over scripture, but should stand in some role of authority over us.

Interestingly enough, I saw a good example of that today. One of my professor's unique interpretation of why the law is in the Pentateuch pretty much goes against the church’s understanding since the early church, and he even openly admitted that it was a pretty scary thing trying to go up against that much tradition.

A second example is in biblical study. D. Hart argues that in Protestantism most people are “biblical egalitarianists”, meaning that we believe all believers have equal footing when interpreting scripture. He argued that while all believers should study scripture, those who are trained to interpret (ministers and some scholars) should be recognized as having that authority. While he didn’t try to refute the clarity of scripture, he tried to limit it, so that the clarity of scripture is not that all scripture is entirely clear for anyone to understand, but I think he would say for understanding salvation (which I’m pretty sure goes back to the reformers). He gave the good example of a small bible study: what insights everyone brings to the text are often treated as being equal.

Holding to any theology seems to often cause people to force some area to fit that grid. While I don’t want to be agnostic, I think this is very important to keep in mind. Calvinists bring good things to the table, so do Armenians and Wesleyans. While I personally still think the Calvinist brings more scriptural support, I cannot call myself a 5-point Calvinist because I think some areas are not quite right. Same with dispensationalism vs. covenant theology: a progressive brings much to the table that is good, but I’m not ready to sign on due to the fine print.

So back to balance: I cannot say that all theologians and systems of thought are right, nor can I say that they stand on equal ground. What is important here is to realize though,that like people, (because they are from people,) there is some truth, some falsehood. I want to be at a place where I am willing to modify my system when confronted with truths of another system that my system lacks.

One good example of this is in postmodern thought. I think post modernism, like modernism, has several large weaknesses that prevent me from signing on. However, it brings several important observations on communication, culture, and truth that I’ve been challenged with and have had to adjust my thinking. I’ve noticed this even at Talbot, that the more honest people will admit the same thing.

The biggest problem here is humility: if I call myself a dispensational Calvinist complementarian, I think I will naturally be a bit predisposed to trying to defend the tenants of each of those systems. Unfortunately, it seems that when you want to modify certain areas, it’s hard to define yourself. Maybe this is a good thing.

One final thought: I don’t want to give the impression that I think “picking and choosing” is a good alternative. I’ve heard that this is one of the bigger faults to the emergent church. Whatever you believe, it still has to “work”. Not simply in corresponding to reality, but that it has to be internally consistent. To have it otherwise denies that each area of theology and life that you develop a belief in doesn’t have interconnections. Life is symbiotic, and I think theology is the same way. Whatever your understanding of pneumatology affects ecclesiology, and of soteriology affects eschatology, and so on.

What is unique here about theology is that whatever you decide in one area must then be worked through with other systems you accept, however at the end of the day all of these, including their symbiotic relationships, should still be grounded firmly in the text.

Finally, I think this is the chief problem with systematic theology. The text is not primarily a book of theology, so it really doesn’t outline things clearly. A lot of issues are clear, but a lot are also vague. Because biblical theology doesn’t leave us in a satisfactory place, I still think systematics is important, but I also think that when treading those vauge areas, humility is key.

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