Paul writes in 2 Timothy 3:16 that “All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness” (NASB, or otherwise translated as “All Scripture is God-breathed…”).  In the past, I have (in places on this blog) raised questions about how that verse should be treated.  Is it saying that the 66 books of the Protestant canon of Scripture are inspired?  Is it only referring (as it does in context) to the Old Testament?  Is it saying that only those books included in the Protestant canon are inspired and no others? Or is it saying something else?

This post is not about answering those questions, however. Maybe I’ll get back to those questions again in a future post, but for now I want to examine the side-effects of believing that all 66 books of the Protestant canon are completely inspired by God in their very words.

On the surface at least, I really don’t have an issue with believing that all 66 books are inspired by God.  Or maybe, to be completely accurate, I should say that I don’t have any problem with someone who does hold to that viewpoint. However, the doctrine of inspiration, especially since it is based so heavily (exclusively, even??) on this statement by Paul leads to some interesting issues.  These are, in my opinion, issues that are problematic.

Issue #1: The Doctrine of Inerrancy

The doctrine of inerrancy flows naturally from the doctrine of inspiration.  If God is actually the author (through the Holy Spirit) of the words of the Bible, then it follows rather plainly that the Bible is without error.  This raises some questions, though. For example, what about apparent contradictions in the Bible?  Well, to the strict “inerrantist”, there are no contradictions. If in one passage (2 Samuel 24) it says that God caused David to take a census, and in a parallel passage (1 Chronicles 21) in another book by another author, it says that Satan caused it, then the strict inerrantist has to reconcile those two passages.  This is usually done by saying that God used Satan (or allowed Satan, or instructed Satan, or whatever) to accomplish his (God’s) purpose in the situation.

This answer is not entirely satisfactory to some, though (myself included). It’s a bit of a circular argument.  Here’s a contradiction, but it can’t be a contradiction because the Bible doesn’t have contradictions. And the Bible doesn’t have contradictions because we’ve explained away all the contradictions!

It doesn’t really make sense, though, to say that every word of Scripture is inspired by God and then to have “errors” in the text. So you can’t really believe in verbal inspiration without going down the inerrancy path.  This, in effect, paints us in a corner, then.  It’s an unfortunate side-effect of the doctrine of inspiration that we have to then explain away any contradictions or apparent errors.

Issue #2: The “Every Verse is Equal” View

This is perhaps the worst side-effect of the doctrine of inspiration, in my opinion. Because Paul’s words are interpreted to mean that every verse of Scripture has a use for teaching, instruction in righteousness, etc., people have done two things that are detrimental to our understanding of Scripture: 1.) Pulled individual verses out of context and used them to support whatever cause the person is passionate about, and 2) Use verses to support points even though those verses are actually contradicted elsewhere in the Bible.

Recently, this became very clear to me in the wake of the murder of Osama bin Laden by a US Navy Seal special ops team.  Immediately upon announcement of the news, my Facebook feed split dramatically into those who were whooping it up in jubilant celebration and those who felt like the situation required a certain amount of sobriety.  And I’m not talking about the difference between my Christian friends and my non-Christian friends. I’m just talking about my Christian friends.

Those of us who posted messages of a more sober nature were put down by a lot of those “jubilant celebrants” because we weren’t rejoicing that “justice had been done” or that a mass murderer was finally taken out.

What surprised me, however, was that those who were rejoicing so jubilantly were quick to throw some proof-texts into the mix claiming that there was scriptural precedent for their joy and that, in fact, it was quite appropriate for believers to celebrate in that way.  And when some of us tried to counter with the teachings of Jesus regarding loving our enemies, etc., we were called “naive” by some, attacked by others as taking scripture out of context (really?!?) and put down by still others who claimed that we would gladly stand by while assailants came into our homes and raped and murdered our wives and children.

All of this came from a use of scripture that says that any verse can stand on its own as support for a position.  I could not disagree more strongly, and I think that this, as I have already said, is the worst side-effect of the doctrine of inspiration.

So what is the alternative?

Well, I certainly don’t claim to have all (or even any!) of the answers, but I think that we can look at this from a couple of angles.  Those who believe in a very conservative, strict view of inspiration claim that viewing the scripture as anything but completely inspired by God leaves us with absolutely nothing to hang our faith on.  In other words, if any of it means something other than what it says, we can’t trust any of it.

I think this is a very simplistic and faulty view.  It’s not an either/or proposition.  Much as western Christianity thrives on its “either/or” positions, truth is almost always somewhere in the middle!  Note that I am not saying that truth is relative.  But truth is not always found by contrasting two polar opposite views.  First of all, we need to recognize some things about the revelation we have been given in scripture.

Scripture itself attests to the fact that revelation is not always immediate.  It is most often progressive in nature.  Getting back to the two passages about David taking a census, rather than trying to absurdly reconcile two very different statements, it perhaps makes more sense to see that when Samuel wrote his narrative, he did not understand that actions that violated God’s principles and plan were not actually initiated by God.  But later on, when the writer of the Chronicles comes along (some estimates are that the books of the Chronicles were written approximately 500 years after the writing of the books of Samuel), some development has taken place in the understanding of the role of Satan.

This nature of progressive revelation is attested in Hebrews 1, which makes it quite clear when it says that in past times, God spoke through prophets, etc., but now he has spoken through Jesus.  In other words, the past revelation was insufficient in revealing the Father to us. This is a very important point.  It is important because it gives us a good indication of how we should approach Scripture.

I like to phrase it this way: We must read Scripture through the lens of Jesus.  In other words, we must pass everything we read in Scripture through the revelation of the Father in Jesus.

To put it bluntly, the believers in Old Testament times did not understand the Father.  They didn’t understand the battle between God and Satan.  They did not understand the character of God.  They did not understand the plan the Father had to redeem all mankind to himself.

So, when Jesus comes along and reveals the heart of the Father to us, it necessarily changes some things.  For example, Jesus addresses issues of retribution and “justice” by referencing the Old Testament law in a strange way.  He says, “You have heard it said, ‘An eye for an eye’, but I say to you, ‘Love your enemies. Do good to those who hurt you.’”

Note his choice of words: “You have heard it said.” This is highly significant.  Because when we return now to the Old Testament law and attempt to make it the standard for civil law or for even personal action/reaction toward others, we ignore the teaching of Jesus.  One cannot simultaneously love their enemy and rejoice over their demise.  When people quote Old Testament verses about rejoicing over their enemies, or wishing their enemies harm (i.e., the so-called imprecatory Psalms), they do so at the expense of Jesus’s revelation.  Why would we want to return to a “darker-glassed” view of the Father?

(A side note: Some have attempted to use Revelation 18 to defend the rejoicing over Osama bin Laden’s death, as well.  However, I think it is important to note that the rejoicing in Revelation is not over the death of a person or even a group of people, but rather the destruction of a system, referred to as Babylon–a system that stood in opposition to the character and kingdom of God.  That is very different, in my opinion.)

So, again, what are the alternatives?  The alternative is to understand first of all that we don’t know for sure what Paul was trying to say in his comment about inspiration. We know that there is value in the Old Testament in pointing us to Jesus (see Jesus’s statements in John 5).  And we do know that God, from time to time, spoke through the prophets and revealed some of his heart and passion (although they rarely understood what he was saying).  But was Paul specifically saying that every single verse of the Old Testament is still useful for teaching us how to live our daily lives? I seriously doubt it because Jesus himself had a different view of the Old Testament. (“You have heard it said…but I say to you….”)

Secondly, we must, as I have already pointed out, interpret Scripture not just with other Scripture, but more specifically with the teaching of Jesus.  If Jesus says that “an eye for an eye” is not how we are supposed to view our enemies or those who hurt us, then that verse in the Old Testament cannot bear weight on our lives anymore.

To the strict inspiration-believer, this sounds like we simply pick-and-choose what to believe in the Bible.  But I say that is a straw man.  It is a serious misunderstanding of what I am saying.  Jesus promised us that the Holy Spirit would come to us and teach us all truth.  We must recognize that interpretation of scripture comes through the Holy Spirit.  And if we listen to the voice of the Spirit, we will find that many things begin to make sense in a way different from what is traditionally taught.

In summary, I would encourage anyone who holds to a strict view of inspiration to carefully weigh the side-effects of that view. Don’t allow that view to put you in a position where you end up demeaning the teaching of Jesus or the progressive revelation that took place over 1,000′s of years. And do not quench the Holy Spirit in your use of the Bible. One need only to look at the way New Testament writers used quotes from the Old Testament to see that a strict view might not always be the way to go!

Until next time,

steve

The comment is in relation to a post regarding Rob Bell’s latest book “Love Wins”. If you’ve paid any attention to the blogosphere in the last couple of months, you’re familiar with Bell’s book, or at least the controversy surrounding it. It’s an interesting discussion to have, and one that definitely needs a lot more civility all around. But, at any rate, my former college classmate has been blogging chapter-by-chapter through Bell’s book. We have discussed this a bit on Facebook and privately, and in response to his post on Chapter 6, I have responded with the following:

Thanks for addressing the 1 Cor 15 passage that I mentioned to you privately. But I want to take the exegesis even farther and resolve this “all” issue. Your exegesis says that the “all” is defined by the context to mean something other than “all”, which I think is not entirely accurate (although I can understand why you would think that). There are some problems with that conclusion.

1. Paul draws a very clear analogy through the use of the simile comparing death in Adam to life in Christ. To define the second “all” differently than the first loses the analogy. (2 Timothy 4:17 is, in my opinion, a red herring because here we have a very clear definition of “all” dying in Adam, so the passage defines the scope of “all” in that way.) More on this in a moment.

2. Your interpretation seems to rest on the idea that “enemies” are people. However, the passage does identify the enemies as dominion, authority and power. Then, he adds the “last enemy”: death.

So, let me tease out these two points a bit. If we start with the face value of the simile, we start with an understanding that the first “all” is the same as the second “all”. This is the common sense reading of the simile. He doesn’t say “As in Adam all die, so in Christ will some be made alive.” He says that in the very same way that Adam’s sin caused death, Christ provides life. In the first case, it was pervasive to the entire human race. Therefore, it would appear that logically, Paul is saying that Christ’s life is also pervasive. (And why not?! His sacrifice is certainly greater than the sin, no?)

But, you said that the second “all” is defined by the context as those who belong to Christ. Well, besides other passages that indicate that the Father has given all things to Christ, let’s look at the progression in the passage. First, Christ is raised, then those who belong to him, and then the end comes when he hands the kingdom over to his Father. But, before he hands it to his Father, he has to defeat his enemies.

As I’ve already pointed out, though, these “enemies” are not defined by the passage as those who do not belong to Christ. Instead, it defines them as systems of man and of the power of sin. Dominion, authority, power…ultimately death itself. The very curse of sin (death) is, itself, destroyed by Christ. How can there be continued death (torment in Hell) if death itself is destroyed? (One could also ask how “enemies” could be people if God tells us to love/forgive our enemies, and then does not do so himself. That would be a double-standard, would it not?)

You said, “What places all of God’s Creation under His authority and brings it all into unity in both heaven and earth is the final reward and punishment of humanity based on their faith in or rejection of Christ.” But this passage does not support your interpretation. It doesn’t mention punishment of humanity or faith or rejection, or any of the other things that you have placed on top of the passage. Not in the least.

The clearest interpretation, allowing the passage to speak for itself, actually supports the superlative. “All” means “all” each time it is used in the passage. “All” doesn’t mean “all” in the first half of a verse and “some” in the second half. And ultimately, “all” are made alive in Christ because ultimately he defeats the very enemy that keeps them separated from the Father, namely death. And so the progression is: Christ, then those who are asleep, then those who belong to Christ, and then Christ defeats the enemies that continue to separate the rest from Him, and “all” are made alive.

This remains consistent with much of Paul’s writing. For example, in Philippians 2 when he references “Every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord” that is definitely superlative. And he does not qualify it as “Every knee/tongue belonging to those in Christ.” He simply says “Every knee/tongue”. There is no qualification of that superlative.

And it’s not limited to Paul. 1 John 2 goes even further in saying that the propitiation is not for our sins only, but for the sins of the whole world. Here, John draws a distinction between those who have believed and “the whole world”.

You can say that it is simply the possible scope, but that is not the clear reading. And the point becomes really moot if the meaning is “possible scope” and yet that scope never becomes realized. Why even bother addressing it, then? But John chooses to make a point of saying that it really is for the sins of the whole world.

I’ll draw this lengthy response to a close here, but I did want to point out the problems that I see with your exegesis of 1 Corinthians 15. You’ve started with the presupposition that the second “all” can’t possibly mean “all” and have therefore used that lens to interpret the rest of the passage. Exegesis should not start with a strong presupposition such as that.

One final quick note: Bell never endorses salvation through anything other than Jesus. He may offer some thoughts on what salvation through Jesus means, but he does not indicate that salvation (even if possible post-hell) comes through anything but faith. Your post indicates otherwise, and misrepresents Bell’s book in that regard.

Until next time,

steve

As an example of trusting God, we talked about the daily provision of food.  Jesus told us in Matthew 6 that we should not worry about food or clothing, but that we should seek after the kingdom of God, and everything that we need will be provided for us.

In response to that episode, my favorite skeptic/agnostic/atheist (depending on the context in which he labels himself!) Sid Faiwu (not his real name, by the way, and it’s pronounced FAY-woo, as I have taken a long time to learn!) asked a very good question.  I will repost the entire relevant part of his comment here so that you don’t have click over if you really don’t want to…

Taking literally the idea that if one trusts God, then one will be provided with food, clothing, etc. is morally problematic. Every true statement’s contrapositive is also true. The belief you hold to be true is:

If one trusts God, then one will always have enough food.

It’s contrapositive is:

If one doesn’t [sic] not have enough food, then one does not trust God.

It means that if someone starves or is starving, then it’s their own fault for not trusting God. It blames the victim. I’d imagine this is why so few people take this part of the Bible as literal truth.

Secondly, I’d argue that such a belief is simply false. It suggests that Christians should never starve if they truly trust God. I would argue that of all the Christians who have died of starvation over the centuries, at least one of them trusted God in this way. She/He trusted God to provide and he failed to come through.

I completely understand where Sid is coming from on this.  And on the surface, I would agree that it sounds more like blaming the victim.  But I think there are some assumptions made in Sid’s argument that could use a little scrutiny.

First of all, I don’t think there’s any way to argue the actual point regarding contrapositives.  Sid is entirely correct that the contrapositive must be true.  It’s in the evaluation of that contrapositive that I think there are some problems.

Sid says that the original statement by Jesus is morally problematic.  I’m not sure about the “morally” part, because I think that putting the responsibility on someone is not necessarily “blaming the victim”.  In fact, the very phrase “blaming the victim” causes problems because it assumes victim status where none has been established.  In other words, if the words of Jesus here are, in fact, correct, then one who does not heed his words would not be a victim.  They would, in the words found elsewhere in scripture, “reap what they sow”.

So, from that standpoint, I think we need to withhold judgment on whether or not someone is a “victim”.  Let me explain a bit further.  The concept of trusting God (or “faith”) appears many, many times in the New Testament (especially, the four gospels) in conjunction with healing.  Now, I know that we’ve discussed this on this blog in the past, but I think that often we put the cart before the horse. Rather than assuming that Jesus was telling the truth, we try to find other explanations for what we see.

I’ve said it before here: Read the four gospels and make a note of anytime Jesus heals someone from a physical illness.  In those instances, note how often Jesus comments about their faith.  Statements like “your faith has healed you”, or “if you believe, all things are possible” jump out at me.  They are not isolated statements. They are woven consistently through every physical healing with very little exception.

Today, however, when someone does not get healed, and one dares to raise the question of faith, emotional responses often claim that we’re “blaming the victim”.  But if that is true, why did Jesus talk so much about faith in those situations?

From that standpoint, the passage regarding food and clothing is not anything out of the ordinary for Jesus.  In fact, I think it is entirely consistent with the rest of his teaching.  Faith is an integral part of receiving what the Father provides.

Take the story of the prodigal son.  While he was sitting in the pig pen wishing he could eat the scraps he was feeding the pigs, was he a victim?  He was the son of a man who was providing everything he needed — food, clothing, shelter — and yet he had not received what his father was providing because he left home.  He was not a victim.  He received the consequences of his own choices.

Sometimes the situation is not so clear.  One may claim they are trusting God for their provision, but maybe they are hiding their own doubt and worry.  Maybe they are seeking after their own provisions and not really seeking first the kingdom of God, as Jesus instructed.  We can’t judge their hearts, obviously, but I think it doesn’t really make sense to just throw out the words of Jesus in our own lives because of what we think is going on in someone else’s.

Let me turn, now, to the second objection Sid raises.  I have to admit that Sid surprised me with this one, because Sid is usually very concerned about empirical evidence.  Verifiable facts.  And yet here, he throws in a highly hypothetical situation, rolling the dice of history and assuming that somehow he can roll the right number.

Sid says, “…of all the Christians who have died of starvation over the centuries, at least one of them trusted God in this way.”  This pits the statement of Jesus against some “odds” that seem pretty incredible.  I would argue that this is not a logical argument, and therefore is not valid.

It’s not able to be proven or disproven because we can’t go back through history and interview those who have died.  In fact, I would say that there is stronger evidence (eyewitness, even) for the resurrection of Jesus, yet Sid rejects that account, by his own admission.  Yet, in this case, Sid is willing to pit the words of Jesus against unknown, unverifiable, unrecorded “witnesses”.

All I can offer, Sid, is my own testimony.  My own eyewitness account.  I have shared some of these accounts on this blog and on the “Beyond the Box” podcast in the past, so I won’t recount them now.  But if there are any questions, I’ll gladly share them again.  I can’t answer for anyone else, but I have found the words of Jesus — all of them that we have recorded — to be accurate, truthful, and consistent in my life.  When I have trusted my Father, I have never been disappointed.  I have never been rejected by him.  And whatever he has promised has come to pass.  When I have not trusted him, I have found that the consequences of not trusting him have borne out the very promises he made — I have, indeed, reaped what I have sown.

Now, before I close, allow me to say a brief word about “faith”.  Hebrews 11:1 defines faith for us.  I like the way the New International Version words it: “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”  Faith is not always based on what we see or what we can touch or what we can prove with our senses.  Faith believes that truth can sometimes supercede evidence.

I know that sounds wacky to some, but I hope you can understand where I’m coming from.  Right now, in fact, we are going through another mini-financial crisis in our family.  A check that was supposed to arrive over a week ago (a substantial part of our monthly income) has not arrived.  We honestly don’t know how we will pay for stuff this week.  Bills that are due, rent that will be due on the 1st, food and gas that are needed this week — we don’t know how we will pay for all of that.

But we trust.  Why? Because of our faith.  Because we know that God has promised.  And in addition to that faith, we have the track record behind us to prove it.  Whenever I have sought the kingdom of God first in my life, all of my needs have been provided for.  Sometimes in really cool “miraculous” ways, sometimes in much more ordinary ways.  But always, always, always, my Father has kept his word.

So, does believing that faith is something we possess and exercise put blame on someone else who doesn’t?  That’s not really the point.  The point is, Jesus said that we can trust the Father for this, and I have found it to be true in my life.  That is the testimony I provide.

Until next time,

steve

This has been part of my frustration with many theological topics. There seems (to my mind) to be a lot of just quoting other theologians out there. Theologian A quotes Theologian B in support of some point. Theologian B is actually just parroting Theologian C, however. So when Theologian A then turns to Theologian C as additional “evidence”, I get skeptical. Sometimes, it can even turn out that Theologian C quotes Theologian A, and the circle is complete.

One such topic that frustrates me is the topic of inerrancy. Now, please understand that I’m not bashing the idea of inerrancy. I think there may, indeed, be quite a bit of merit to it. However, I’m struggling with understanding the importance of that particular doctrine. More importantly, I’m struggling with the fact that both inerrancy and inspiration almost always carry a disclaimer with them that says that those characteristics are only certain “in the original manuscripts”. In other words, documents that appear to no longer exist. So what does it really buy us? If we leave that loophole open, how important is the doctrine, and of what use is it?

What frustrates me, as well, is the fact that the doctrine seems to not really be defended very clearly. A lot of presuppositions are brought to the table. Now, I realize that we all have presuppositions. But what frustrates me is when those presuppositions are 1) not recognized as such, and 2) treated as if they were already proven. Sometimes the presuppositions are so strong that “evidence” given is not evidence at all, or might even contradict the conclusion.

Recently, another blogger linked to a book edited by Norman L. Geisler called simply Inerrancy. It is actually a compilation of 14 papers written by different theologians. In the chapter entitled “The Early Church Through Luther”, Robert D. Preus begins with the following statement (pp. 357-358):

That the Bible is the Word of God, inerrant and of supreme divine authority, was a conviction held by all Christians and Christian teachers through the first 1,700 years of church history. Except in the case of certain free-thinking scholastics, such as Abelard, this fact has not really been contested by many scholars. Of course, many of the early church fathers and an even greater proportion of the medieval theologians did not directly address themselves to the subject of biblical authority. The former simply assumed the doctrine of biblical authority on the basis of an understanding of Scripture that was shared by both Tannaite Judaism and the early Christians. The latter developed a notable lack of interest in biblical studies and in seeking answers directly from Scripture for questions and concerns of the day….

But just as we can establish Scripture’s teaching of its own divine origin and authority on the basis of what is assumed rather than what is explicitly articulated there, we can clearly delineate the doctrine concerning Scripture held by the Christian church and its theological leaders from postapostolic times through the Reformation era…. On no other point do we notice such unanimity….

Here is a chapter that purports to give evidence that the church has always believed in inerrancy. For additional weight, the author also throws in “supreme divine authority” as something that was supposedly believed.

But does anyone else see the problem with the “evidence”? Here’s the premise again:

That the Bible is the Word of God, inerrant and of supreme divine authority, was a conviction held by all Christians and Christian teachers through the first 1,700 years of church history.

Now, one would expect this to be backed up with a plethora of evidence. This is a bold statement, and one which apparently warranted its own complete chapter in this book. But right after making this claim, the author then states:

Of course, many of the early church fathers and an even greater proportion of the medieval theologians did not directly address themselves to the subject of biblical authority.

Huh? This “conviction” was “held by all Christians”, and yet many of the writings we have don’t even directly address it? How can we know that it was held, then? Furthermore, with regard to the early church fathers, he goes on to say:

The [early church fathers] simply assumed the doctrine of biblical authority….

How can we know this? If a collation of writings from various authors in a particular period of time do not address a particular issue, how can we know that they “assumed” anything?? Oh, but it gets better! Don’t forget the medieval theologians who supposedly believed in the divine authority of Scripture unanimously as well.

[They] developed a notable lack of interest in biblical studies and in seeking answers directly from Scripture for questions and concerns of the day….

I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like biblical authority at all to me! How can one claim that a group of theologians believed a certain point when 1) they didn’t address it, and 2) they actually demonstrated evidence of moving in the opposite direction?!? A “notable lack of interest” in actually studying the Bible and/or seeking answers from it hardly indicates a profound belief in its inerrancy or divine authority.

The author appears to recognize that a lack of actual evidence might cause one to doubt his conclusion. So, he then uses an analogy that is supposed to make us feel better about his lack of evidence:

[J]ust as we can establish Scripture’s teaching of its own divine origin and authority on the basis of what is assumed rather than what is explicitly articulated there, we can clearly delineate the doctrine concerning Scripture held by the Christian church and its theological leaders from postapostolic times through the Reformation era….

I’m not even sure where to start with this paragraph. How can we “establish Scripture’s teaching” about anything if it’s not stated? We can do this “on the basis of what is assumed”? Assumed by whom? And what are the parameters on these assumptions? This is “argument from silence” at its worst and in awful proportions — and is the primary evidence given in support of a thesis!

Further, the notion that we can “clearly delineate the doctrine concerning Scripture” from people who, by the author’s own admission, didn’t even address the topic is ludicrous. Again, this is argument from silence. “They didn’t address it, so we can assume that they must have believed a certain way about it.”

Am I missing something? Does this make sense to anyone else??

And finally, the author concludes with this preposterous statement:

On no other point do we notice such unanimity….

I am speechless. Unanimity?? On an issue that is not addressed? Sadly, this is what seems to pass in evangelical circles as “proof” for something. It appears to be nothing more than coming to the table with one’s mind already made up about the conclusion, no matter what the evidence — or lack of evidence — might show.  Surely we can do better than this, can’t we?

Until next time,

steve

In times past, I have noticed that there are two almost polar opposite views at play in our western version of Christianity. One is the bumper sticker theology that says:

I’m just a sinner saved by grace

or perhaps this one:

Christians aren’t perfect, just forgiven.

The opposing viewpoint is one that says that victory over sin in this life is not only possible, but should likely be the outlook of every Christian.

Some of the controversy seems to come from Paul’s statements in Romans 7. In this well-known chapter, Paul describes a struggle between what he wants to do and what he doesn’t want to do. In this chapter, he seems to indicate that the “doesn’t want to do” frequently wins out. Many see this as the believer’s struggle with sin, and then draw the conclusion that Paul was saying that he was not victorious over sin. It would stand to reason, then, that if Paul was incapable of living a life of victory over sin, how could we hope to do any better?

My problems with this are on several levels, however. Perhaps the first and most obvious problem that I have with this passage (obvious to me, at least!) is the context of Romans 7. Without sounding pedantic here, Romans 7 falls between Romans 6 and Romans 8. And both 6 and 8 talk about victory over sin.

For instance, Romans 6:2 says, “How shall we who died to sin still live in it?” And after describing our identification with the death of Christ, Paul says in Romans 6:7, “he who has died is freed from sin.” And again in verse 11, “Consider yourselves to be dead to sin.” Numerous similar phrases appear throughout chapter 6.

Romans 8 is likewise full of positive statements regarding victory over sin. Verse 4 says that we “do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.”

So I have a lot of difficulty understanding how Romans 7 could be Paul’s description of his ongoing experience in his life. I have heard that theory justified (no pun intended!) in many different ways, including the idea of an “already/not yet” concept in Paul’s writing. And while it is true that Paul talks about all creation “groaning” while waiting for the ultimate new creation, he doesn’t speak of human beings in that way. Rather he says, literally, “In Christ = new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

[By way of explanation, there is no verb "is" in 2 Corinthians 5:17. Paul doesn't say, "if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation" or "if anyone is in Christ, he will be a new creation". Rather, he literally just says, "If anyone is in Christ -- new creation. Old things passed away. All things new." Greek scholars correct me if I'm wrong here, but my understanding of Greek is that two things placed together in this manner without a joining verb are being shown to be equated with each other. So, if we are in Christ, there is no future "new creation" that we need to wait for.]

But an even more interesting passage with this regard is Hebrews 10. I encourage you to read the entire chapter linked there, but I’d like to quote a portion of it here as it relates to the point I’m making:

For the Law, since it has only a shadow of the good things to come and not the very form of things, can never, by the same sacrifices which they offer continually year by year, make perfect those who draw near.

Otherwise, would they not have ceased to be offered, because the worshipers, having once been cleansed, would no longer have had consciousness of sins?

But in those sacrifices there is a reminder of sins year by year.

…[W]e have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.

Every priest stands daily ministering and offering time after time the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins;

but He, having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, SAT DOWN AT THE RIGHT HAND OF GOD,

…For by one offering He has perfected for all time those who are sanctified.

Now where there is forgiveness of these things, there is no longer any offering for sin.

Therefore, brethren, since we have confidence to enter the holy place by the blood of Jesus,

…let us draw near with a sincere heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.

…For if we go on sinning willfully after receiving the knowledge of the truth, there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins….

I’ve quoted large chunks of this passage because I want to give a sense of the flow of the passage. Notice the comparison of the sacrifice of Jesus with the sacrifices under the previous Law. In fact, most of the book of Hebrews is built around this type of comparison.

Under the Law, there was a continued “consciousness” of sin. There was a continued relationship to sin. Why? Because the sacrifices under that law were not adequate to completely remove that relationship.

However, under the sacrifice of Jesus, we have been “made perfect”. By way of the contrast being drawn, it could be phrased that we no longer have a “consciousness of sin”.

Now, what does (or should) that mean? I’m open to debate on this issue, but I think that it might be radically different from a lot of what I hear taught.

Should sin be an issue for us? I don’t think so. Should we be continuing in sin if we are in Christ? I don’t think so.

But here’s the important thing to keep in mind: I’m not proposing that this is a “try harder” admonition. In fact, I would run completely in the opposite direction. What I am suggesting is an application by faith of what has already been done for us.

The writer of Hebrews is not suggesting an “already/not yet” tension here. In the same way that Paul says to “consider yourselves dead to sin”, I think we are called and instructed to live a life that focuses on the indwelling Christ who has already washed us clean. That’s why the writer of Hebrews can talk about our ability to approach our Father with confidence, knowing that we are clean.

If we have come to Christ and received the gift of eternal life that he has provided, we no longer have a consciousness of sin (Hebrews 10). We no longer need to let sin have any place in our lives (since we are to consider ourselves dead to it) (Romans 6-8). Having confessed our sins, we are cleansed from all unrighteousness (1 John 1).

I think in some ways, we have replaced the Old Covenant sacrifices, not with the “once-for-all” sacrifice of Jesus, but with our own confessions and prayers. Instead of walking confidently in our position in Christ with no consciousness of sins, we feel that we somehow have to get cleaned up every time we want to approach the Father. But He tells us that we are already clean! By not accepting that, we are yielding to a “consciousness of sin” that should no longer exist.

The last verse I quoted above from Hebrews 10 says it pretty bluntly.  If we go on sinning willfully, there is no sacrifice for sin.  The sacrifice of Jesus has already removed our sin.  And we need not be drawn into a guilty conscience over something that has already been forgiven.  (The Romans 6:1 disclaimer applies here, lest anyone mistake my thoughts for advocating license to sin freely!)

I close with this admonition and reminder from Paul in Colossians 3:

Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth. For you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God.

Sin in the life of a believer? Forget about it!

Until next time,

steve

At the risk of confusing people, I want to respond here with what would have been a very lengthy comment. There are some things that I really feel the need to clarify, and some things that I would like to continue to plead with my readers to consider.

I have not at all been trying to argue that any of this has to do with forcing or making God do something. Once again, the original point that I made that started all this was in response to those who are teaching that healings, etc. are not at all for this time and that their sole purpose in NT times was for authentication of the message. (By extension, this also includes the concept that the “completion of the canon” took the place of these authenticating events.)

This is, I think, an important distinction, because it significantly narrows the scope of what I’m arguing for, and what I’m arguing against. I am not a fan of theology that says if we act a certain way that God has to act a certain way in response.

However, having said that, I think it is important to consider what patterns we do have revealed. More on that in a bit.

Let me also make crystal clear that in none of this am I trying to explain or seek a “formula” for guaranteed miracles. All I have tried to do is point out patterns in scripture. I’m trying to work with what scripture says first and foremost before drifting off into “I don’t think…” or “Well, I know it says that, but…”

In light of that, there are some passages that are not entirely clear. Several have mentioned Paul’s infamous “thorn in the flesh”. The reality is, we do not know what that thorn was. It is described as a “messenger of Satan”. This is a phrase that is never used elsewhere in scripture to describe a physical ailment. If, indeed, it was a demon, or a person who was irritating Paul, God does, as he told Paul, give us the grace to deal with those things and not to be hindered or irritated by them.

And this is even more important: This passage does not say that God told Paul “no” to a healing request. In fact, God doesn’t actually say “no” to Paul at all in that passage.

Which brings me to my next point. I see absolutely no record anywhere in scripture where someone asked Jesus to heal them and he said, “No, I think I want to let you stay this way for some purpose.”

I think it is important that we deal with the clear passages of scripture and not brush them aside by focusing on something that is ambiguous.

Someone else mentioned Job’s comment “Though he slay me, yet will I praise him.” I’ve hesitated to respond to this, but I think I’m going to stick my neck out there and give my response to this. Personally, I do not think that Job’s comment represents an accurate portrayal of God’s character. This is in the same line of thinking as Job’s incredibly “popular” statement, “The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.”

We are told by Jesus himself that he came to reveal the Father to us. “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father,” Jesus said. So what we see in the character of Jesus is a revelation of the heart of the Father.

Now, let me ask you this: From what we see of Jesus and what he taught and revealed, is it God’s desire or will to slay us?? No, no, no, a thousand times no! Jesus died so that we can live!!

Along the same lines, is it God’s desire or will to give us something and take it away from us frivolously, as Job claimed? No. Jesus drew an analogy with human fathers wanting to give their children good gifts and asked, in essence, “If sinful human fathers act this way, how much more do you think your heavenly Father will act toward you?”

Job was accusing God of taking things from him, tearing him down, etc., and demanding an audience with God to make God answer for it all. How can we base our theology and understanding of God on such a misunderstanding to the point of discounting what God himself revealed through Jesus??

Some have hinted that I’m looking at this from the angle of man somehow getting credit for healing. Let me hasten to clarify that, as well. Is it all in God’s power and to his glory? YES!! I absolutely believe that!! Let there be no mistake about that. But God has revealed through Jesus that there is a kingdom available to us that is not of this world, and when he revealed that kingdom, he included things that we either pay lip service to, or outright deny.

I am simply asking the question of whether that is wise or not. When I asked whether we should be teaching this stuff, what I basically mean is whether or not we should tell people that God wants to heal them. The prevailing trend in our western culture is to actually tell people that God may not desire to heal them. Yet I am not seeing any solid scriptural basis for this.

Again, let me ask where someone ever came to Jesus or the disciples for healing and they told them “no”. This is not an argument from silence here. This is arguing on the basis of a plethora of accounts in multiple books of the Bible.

Finally, let me say that in no way am I suggesting that we are to go around judging other people’s faith. Some comments have hinted that talking about the element of faith in a healing necessarily leads to this kind of judgment.

What I am saying, however, is that we should examine our own belief. If we believe that God doesn’t want to heal us, then we can’t expect to be healed. If we believe that God only chose to say “yes” to healings through Jesus and that he doesn’t choose to do that today, there is no reason that we should ever see healing take place. We may, but we have no reason to think that we will.

So, some questions for some possible groups of readers here:

1. Those of you who believe that God is not always willing to heal, can you explain to me the basis for that belief?
2. Those of you who believe that faith is not an important part of receiving a healing, can you explain to me how you answer the numerous times (and they are quite plentiful — just read through the first four books of the New Testament) that Jesus mentions faith with regard to the healing?
3. Those of you who believe that the completion of the canon supplanted the healings and miraculous events of the first century, can you explain the basis for that belief, please?

When Jesus proclaimed the kingdom of God, did he go around actually placing illnesses on some people, refusing to heal others who asked for it, killing some people, striking others blind, and then telling them to just deal with it, that it was all part of the way things are for now? No, he did none of that.

Why would we proclaim a message that is in any way different than the one that he proclaimed?

Until next time,

steve

Scott’s a good online friend, and I appreciate the engagement with him anytime it presents itself. We differ on some interpretations of scripture (who doesn’t?!), but I never feel like Scott is questioning our fellowship as brothers. For that, I am very appreciative. (And Scott, we need to hit up Starbucks in Winston together sometime soon, bro. I’d love to chat about stuff in person with you.)

So anyway, Scott responded on his blog about miracles. You can read the post, simply called “Miracles”, here.

I started to respond on Scott’s blog, but as often happens with me, my comment became quite lengthy, and I decided to put it here as a post instead of taking up Scott’s bandwidth with it.

Scott mentioned a great statement of Jesus as part of the discussion, and then offered his commentary:

Christ said “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in Me, the works that I do, he will do also; and greater works than these he will do; because I go to the Father.” Does that mean that next week I can raise someone from the dead? No, I don’t think so. What I think it means is that this week I can talk to people about my faith. It means that I can love the people in my community sacrificially. What does he mean by “greater works”? Frankly, I don’t know. I think that greater might mean greater in scope. We have the opportunity to take the message of God’s love into places unheard of in Jesus’ time. I’m more than willing to admit that I could be wrong though. If you are hardcore one way or the other I’d be curious as to know why.

In response to some of the things that were said in the post, I’d like to address the “greater things” part first. I don’t necessarily consider myself “hard core one way or the other” on what the “greater things” are, but I’ll try to give my thoughts.

While I have no trouble saying that the “greater things” are not explicitly stated (and therefore subject to some interpretation at least), we still need to wrestle with the fact that Jesus didn’t just say we would do “greater things”. He first said that we would do the same things he was doing. Regardless of what the “greater things” might be, are we doing the same things that Jesus did?

Take a look at the examples in the book of Acts. The disciples, in fact, did do the same things Jesus was doing. They healed the sick, raised the dead, etc. Furthermore, when Paul talks about spiritual gifts in 1 Corinthians, he includes healing and miracles as two gifts that the Spirit gives to the body.

I’m not as troubled by the argument from silence on the cessationist side as I am the inability to adequately explain away the stuff that’s not silent. And “troubled” is not actually a good word. It just doesn’t make sense to me, I guess.

How did Jesus heal people? And how did his disciples heal people?

1. The people receiving the miracle believed it was possible, and
2. The person facilitating the miracle (or at times, someone on their behalf) believed it was possible. That seems to be an incredibly common factor throughout. Enough of a factor that I don’t think we can dismiss it too easily.

Scott also said:

I don’t think that we’re seeing fewer miracles today because of the state of faith in our world. Miracles are by definition rare things.

If scripture draws a strong parallel between the state of faith (either in individuals or in a region) and miracles (and I believe it does), should that not be taken into consideration? On what basis, then, do you think that doesn’t apply? Furthermore, when the kingdom was proclaimed by Jesus, were they really “rare” things? Does scripture itself define miracles as “rare”?

So to have this thing occupy a major portion of your theology and to go around in circles looking for support one way or another is indeed wasting cycles, if that’s all you’re doing.

I hope you can understand at this point that it’s not occupying “a major portion” of my theology, but rather I’m trying to assess what place it should. So I don’t see it as wasting cycles at all.

My point and repeated question basically come down to this: We see Jesus doing miracles as part of his gospel proclamation. Jesus tells us that those who believe in him will do the same things he did, and even greater things. The disciples go on to do the same things Jesus did, and even greater things (in terms of scope, for certain). So, if we are not to expect to do the same things, on what basis do we draw that conclusion?

Here’s a poor analogy: There is a light switch that I always use to turn on our dining room light. If I flip the switch one day and the light doesn’t come on, I can either conclude that the switch no longer is intended to operate that light, or I can conclude that something is not working properly and needs to be corrected for the switch to operate the light again. In a very basic way, the cessationist position seems to be saying that the switch is no longer intended to operate the light, whereas the continualist position is saying that the intent is still there, but something is not working properly.

Thoughts from Scott or anyone else?

Until next time,

steve

This post started as a response on a post over at The Pursuit, but I decided to just write it here instead. In one of Lew’s “Question of the Week” posts, he asked:

Why do the things that cause us to separate ourselves by denomination have little to do with what God’s Word tells us to separate ourselves from?

Recently, in response to that, a commenter wrote:

…the union of people who have conflicting ideas is really no unity at all.

I think this is 1) a red herring, and 2) a false dichotomy, and 3) an excuse for the utter lack of attempts at unity in the body of Christ.

There can be a lot of “conflicting ideas” in a unified group. The unity is not always a simple function of unity in thought (or better yet, a unity in knowledge), but rather a unity in identification.

I find my identity in Christ. Who I am is found in Christ. Anyone else who finds their identity in Christ is my brother, and I should be able to be unified with them without any problem.

What if we disagree on methods of evangelism? So what?

What if we disagree on the use of certain spiritual gifts? So what?

What if we disagree on exactly how God created the heavens and the earth? So what?

What if we disagree on exactly what/when the millenial kingdom of Christ is? So what?

What if we disagree on exactly how God has “chosen” us? So what??

That need not divide us. Unless we twist any of those things, or a million other “issues” like them, into issues of true fellowship, they are not reasons for division. And if those things divide us, we should ask ourselves: From what do we get our identity?

For example, take a look at some of the leaders of large denominations who say that they can’t “cooperate” in the work of the Gospel with those who have not been baptized by someone in their denomination. Are they really seeking unity? In my opinion, no. They are seeking to defend their particular belief system as the only true and correct belief system.

That is not of Christ. It never has been, and never will be. And it is not those outside of that denomination who are the heretics. It is the one causing division who is the heretic.

Let’s quit coming up with excuses for our division and start really accepting and loving those who confess Christ, and seeking unity with them.

Conflicting ideas? Sure. Ability to fellowship and work together despite those differences? Absolutely — because it is one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one Spirit that unites us.

Until next time,

steve

First some background. As I’ve mentioned many times in the past, we have been reading through the Bible as a family. We’re not on any particular schedule or “reading plan”, but just reading a few chapters at a time. We’re just going in printed order (i.e., Genesis to Revelation, cover-to-cover).

Tonight, we finished 2 Chronicles. And as I read the last few chapters aloud, something jumped out at me that has me very baffled.

In 2 Chronicles 30, Hezekiah invites all Israel to the Passover. 2 Chronicles 30:21-26 tell us that the celebration of the Passover was so exciting that after the seven days of the feast, they decided to celebrate seven more days. Verse 26 sums up the amazing feast by saying that there was great joy because nothing like this had been done in Jerusalem since the time of Solomon.

Moving on, after Hezekiah’s death, his son Manasseh becomes king. And then Manasseh’s son Amon becomes king 55 years later. After just a two-year reign, Amon is assassinated, and his son Josiah is made king.

Josiah is Hezekiah’s great-grandson, according to the text. Just 57 years after the death of Hezekiah.

Now here’s where it gets confusing for me.

2 Chronicles 35 details a celebration of the Passover under Josiah’s reign. And 2 Chronicles 35:18 has this to say about it:

There had not been celebrated a Passover like it in Israel since the days of Samuel the prophet; nor had any of the kings of Israel celebrated such a Passover as Josiah did with the priests, the Levites, all Judah and Israel who were present, and the inhabitants of Jerusalem.

I have added some bold to show what confuses me. If just three generations earlier (and a mere five chapters in our text) we see a grand celebration of the Passover with Hezekiah, why are we now told that none of the kings of Israel ever celebrated the Passover like this? Hezekiah’s is said to be the grandest since the time of Solomon, but the mention of Josiah’s Passover takes it back even before Saul!

Am I missing something very obvious here? Can anyone shed any light on this for me? If you can, please comment below. I’m honestly very puzzled about this oddity.

Until next time,

steve

Much of what I would like to say has been said in one form or another in the comments that were posted previously. This has the net effect of letting me know ahead of time that my thoughts won’t be overly controversial to everyone in the discussion! But seriously, it is refreshing to see such thought being given to this topic. I likely will not address everything that was written in the comments, but they are there for you to read for yourself. Instead, I want to share my thoughts, some of which will overlap the thoughts of others.

It is easy, I think, for us to agree that whatever Jesus meant when he prayed for our unity, we’re not fulfilling it. I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone who says that the body of Christ is experiencing unity at the level that Jesus prayed for. Part of this is because we don’t even agree on what the unity is supposed to look like!

Some options of interpretation that I have come across in my time of examining this passage include:

• Unity = Unanimity — Unity can only come when we fully agree on everything that is believed, practiced, taught, etc.
• Unity = Consensus — Unity means that we “agree to disagree”
• Unity = Anything Goes — Unity means that every person’s belief is valid, and we should never “debate” or try to convince others of our viewpoints
• Unity = Eschatological Perfection — The unity that Jesus prayed for is only possible, and will only exist, when Jesus returns and we are made perfect.

With that in mind, I posed the question, “What is the unity that Jesus prayed for in John 17 and is it primarily (or even solely) eschatological in nature?”

Let me first of all give my thoughts on the eschatology aspect of the question. I think determining the eschatological import (if any) helps us determine what the unity actually is. It also impacts what we believe to be our responsibility toward the unity in question.

In other words, if the unity is primarily (or solely) eschatological, we can easily assume that it is not attainable in this lifetime, and we will generally feel like it’s not even worth trying. If, however, the unity is a present possibility and reality, we will understand our own response to the prayer of Jesus.

As some have already commented, I do not believe that the unity for which Jesus prayed is eschatological. Eschatological unity is almost a given. Why would Jesus take the time to pray for what is essentially a guaranteed part of the future kingdom?

But more importantly, the words of Jesus in John 17 give us ample evidence that eschatology is not in view during this prayer. Verse 21 tells us specifically that the prayer of Jesus for unity is for this purpose: “…so that the world may believe that You sent Me.”

Verse 23 expands on this by saying that the purpose of the unity is “…so that the world may know that You sent Me, and loved them, even as You have loved Me.”

In my opinion, these two statements of purpose that Jesus gave for his prayer for unity remove any eschatological implication from the prayer. The purpose of the unity is to demonstrate to the world that God sent Jesus and that God loves us.

If this is correct (and obviously, I believe it is), then this greatly impacts our understanding of what that unity is and whether or not we should actively be pursuing it. Since it is not a future unity (any eschatological implications must come from outside the text), there must be a present unity for which Jesus prayed.

Within this prayer, Jesus gives some indication as to what the unity should be. Namely, it should be a mirror of the unity that Jesus and the Father share. He compares the unity of us with his unity with the Father in verse 21:

…they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us….

Would we say that the unity of Jesus and the Father is manifest in “you go your way and I’ll go mine and we won’t bother each other”? Yet this is frequently what ends up happening among Christians.

You believe in infant baptism? Then I can’t fellowship with you. You believe in speaking in tongues? You’ll have to have church across town. You believe that the Genesis account of creation is metaphorical? I have nothing in common with you.

This cannot be what Jesus prayed for.

And with that, I will have to hold off on the rest of my thoughts because I am out of time. Comments are open, and I will return with a further post at some point.

Until next time,

steve