Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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On Sound Speech, Part 4 

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

We’ve surveyed how God speaks. Should we seek to speak in similar ways? And if so, specifically how? 

Let me start with the “should we?” question. 

Back to the beginning.  

This God, who created so much simply by speaking, goes to another level when he makes Adam. On Day Six, after all that speaking things into existence, he stops speaking, and he gets out of his chair, so to speak, and he kneels in the clay outside Eden—this is the Son, remember (Jn 1.1-3; He 1.2)—and he fashions from the clay a recumbent statue that looks like him. And he bends over that lifeless statue and breathes life into it. And Adam pinks up; he is alive.  

And he is, as God had planned, in the very image of God.  

And we, Adam’s billions of descendants, are in God’s image too.  

Further, when God placed us in Christ—when we repented and believed and were justified freely by his grace—God began to enable us to be in his image in much more powerful and effective ways. God, through his Spirit, began to conform us, slowly, steadily, surely into the image of his Son (2Co 3.18)—and to empower us to imitate him genuinely and delightfully.  

And so we find that we too can speak truth, and justly, and rightly. We too can speak and see good things happen.  

And now for the “how?” question. The New Testament gives us specific guidance on how we are able to speak well, by the grace of God and the power of his Spirit. Let me marshal some examples. 

Thinkingly 

James tells us that everyone should be “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath” (Jam 1.19). God speaks that way, because he’s like that. That means we shouldn’t shoot our mouths off. First we should listen long enough to know what we’re talking about. (Of course, God, as omniscient, doesn’t need to listen first in order to understand something. But he’s still slow to wrath.) 

A few verses later James tells us to “bridle” our tongues (Jam 1.26); he even says that the person who doesn’t do that has “vain [empty, meaningless]” religion. And later in his epistle he speaks of the tongue as unbridled, untamable (Jam 3.8); consider carefully the entire context (Jam 3.1-12), and note his words about meekness and strife in the following paragraph (Jam 3.13-18). 

Well. Taming the untamable. That’s a lot to work on, but the grace of God is sufficient (2Co 12.9). And it needs to be, because there’s a lot more. 

Truthfully 

25 Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour: for we are members one of another (Ep 4.25). 

We ought to tell the truth. All the time. God does. 

Now, some might observe that in context Paul is writing of relationships between believers, within the body of Christ. But that’s arguable; he’s talking about “putting off the old man” (Ep 4.22), including “stealing no more” (Ep 4.28). It would be absurd to suggest that it’s okay to steal from, or to lie to, nonbelievers. 

Now, this raises a question. Do we always speak “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth”? I’d suggest that guiding our everyday conversation by that common legal oath is problematic, especially in the phrase “the whole truth.” First, I note that God doesn’t tell us everything, and I see no obligation on us to tell anybody else “everything.” If the baby is not in fact the most beautiful baby ever born (as my children and grandchild most certainly are), you can rejoice with the new parents in the wonder of birth and the delights of children without flat-out lying. 

And, not surprisingly, the Scripture gives us further guidance on how we can do that. We’ll look further in the next post. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 3

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Part 1 | Part 2 

And now, in the New Testament, God speaks in a way he never has before. 

He speaks in person, visibly, incarnately, powerfully. 

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 The same was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life; and the life was the light of men. 5 And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not (Jn 1.1-5). 

Later in that prologue his claim is even more explicit: 

14 And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. … 18 No man hath seen God at any time; the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared [lit., exegeted] him” (Jn 1.14-18). 

With this change, God speaks through his incarnate, eternally human Son.  

I should take a moment, I suppose, to deal with a possible objection to what I’ve just claimed. 

There are many, including me, who believe that “the Angel of Yahweh” in the Old Testament is a preincarnate appearance of God the Son. If this idea is correct, then God did indeed speak “visibly” in the Old Testament, even appearing to be incarnate; as just one example, he appears to Abraham as one of three men walking down a road past Abraham’s tent, and he eats a meal with him (Ge 18.1-8)—and by the end of their conversation it’s clear that Abraham understands that he’s speaking face to face with God himself (Ge 18.22-33). But the angel is not directly presented in the Old Testament as God himself; what John is claiming in the prologue of his Gospel is qualitatively different. 

To verify that the Son is the perfect expression of God—the Logos—the Father twice speaks from heaven, once at Jesus’ baptism: 

And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased (Mt 3.17). 

and a second time at his Transfiguration: 

and behold a voice out of the cloud, which said, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased; hear ye him (Mt 17.5). 

Perhaps 30 years after the Son returns to the Father in heaven, an anonymous author explains what has happened:  

1 God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, 2 Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; 3 Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; 4 Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they (He 1.1-4). 

And finally, our friend John tells us that at the end of time God speaks again: 

6 And he said unto me, It is done. I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely. 7 He that overcometh shall inherit all things; and I will be his God, and he shall be my son (Re 22.6-7). 

When God speaks, he speaks the truth. He speaks justly. He speaks rightly. And good things happen.  

Sure, sometimes he speaks in judgment. But even then—perhaps especially then—he speaks truth, and he speaks justly, and he speaks rightly. 

We’ve engaged in this survey to summarize how God speaks, and specifically to consider following his example, to the extent that we are able, in our own speech. We’ll turn to that next time. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 2 

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Part 1 

We’re looking at God’s speech as a model for our own. The previous post ended with God speaking of delivering his people Israel from their Egyptian taskmasters, and of his keeping that promise through the plagues. 

After crossing the Red Sea—miraculously—Israel travels to Mount Sinai, where they will meet God and receive the Law of Moses. 

And God spake all these words, saying, 2 I am the Lord thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage (Ex 20.1-2). 

And here come the Ten Commandments, a constitution for the new nation. For the next forty years, God talks to Moses as he wishes, and he talks to him in a special way.  

The Lord talked with [Moses] face to face in the mount out of the midst of the fire (Dt 5.4). 

Face to face, without distance, without danger. 

As we know, those forty years were a judgment in response to Israel’s unbelief. But God is faithful, even when his people are not, and he brings them to the Promised Land and empowers their victory over the perverse peoples living in it. 

Centuries pass. Israel is now well settled into the Land, after initially living in houses they didn’t build and eating from gardens they didn’t plant. And when they want a king, God gives them the king he had long ago promised them. David, the man after God’s own heart, the sweet singer of Israel, sets the nation off on a course toward prosperity and peace—and at the end of his life he reveals where his sweet songs came from: 

1 Now these be the last words of David.  
David the son of Jesse said,  
And the man who was raised up on high,  
The anointed of the God of Jacob,  
And the sweet psalmist of Israel, said,  
2 The Spirit of the Lord spake by me,  
And his word was in my tongue.  
3 The God of Israel said,  
The Rock of Israel spake to me,  
He that ruleth over men must be just,  
Ruling in the fear of God.  
4 And he shall be as the light of the morning, when the sun riseth,  
Even a morning without clouds;  
As the tender grass springing out of the earth  
By clear shining after rain (2S 23.1-4). 

After David and his son Solomon come other kings, mostly evil ones, and God, graciously, speaks once again, this time through prophets.  

Therefore thus saith the Lord God,  
Behold, I lay in Zion for a foundation a stone,  
A tried stone, a precious corner stone, a sure foundation:  
He that believeth shall not make haste (Is 28.16). 

More prophets come, for three more centuries, bringing words from God, calling God’s people to truth, to righteousness, to justice, to peace. But for the most part, the people don’t listen. There are two periods of exile and a return, and then more self-centered living.  

 And after that, silence.  

 Four centuries of silence.  

 God does not speak.  

 And all the light and wisdom and truth and direction and power that consistently come when he speaks—are missing. They’re not there.  

 Silence from God is not a good thing.  

 When will he speak again?  

 When will we know what we so desperately need to know?  

Oh, he will speak again, and he will speak in a way that he never has before. 

Next time.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 1

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Do you have trouble with your mouth? 

I do. And I always have. Since birth.  

Really. 

There are few things worse than saying something that you regret, whether immediately or eventually. 

How should we then speak? 

I’d like to take a few posts to meditate on that. 

And I’d like to begin by considering someone who speaks, and who speaks well. 

The Bible begins with a speech act: 

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. 3 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. 4 And God saw the light, that it was good (Ge 1.1-4). 

God spoke, and something good happened. As the chapter continues, he continues to speak, every utterance bringing things—good things—into existence, and by the end of the chapter God declares everything he has spoken, and thus created, to be “very good” (Ge 1.31). 

A few generations later, God speaks to Noah, whom he has closed up in the Ark, and tells him to leave the ship that has been his shelter for the past year: 

15 And God spake unto Noah, saying, 16 Go forth out of the ark, thou, and thy wife, and thy sons, and thy sons’ wives with thee. 17 Bring forth with thee every living thing that is with thee, of all flesh, both of fowl, and of cattle, and of every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth; that they may breed abundantly in the earth, and be fruitful, and multiply upon the earth (Ge 8.15-17). 

Here the earth thrives with new life—a second chance at life, if you will—after a devastating judgment. God speaks, and good things happen. 

But God is not done. He’s going to choose a people to bless in a special way, with a universal outcome: 

Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred, and from thy father’s house, unto a land that I will shew thee: 2 And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing: 3 And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed (Ge 12.1-3). 

And so he does. But within just three generations Abraham’s descendants will be out of the Land, and decades later they will be slaves in Egypt—but they will have grown to 2 million strong.  

And God will see the suffering of his people, and he will remember his promises to Abraham, and he will find Moses on the west side of the Arabian desert and speak once again, this time from a burning bush: 

7 And the Lord said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows; 8 And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey (Ex 3.7-8). 

And he does deliver them, with a series of spectacular plagues that demonstrate that all the gods of Egypt are just papyrus tigers. And he will gather his people at the foot of a mountain in the Sinai, and he will speak them into existence as a nation. 

God is demonstrating his power, and accomplishing global good, by his words. 

But there’s much more to see here. 

Next time. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On a New Year

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Another new year. My 70th. After a while they all sort of blend together, don’t they? 

Since I started this blog back in July 2017, this is my seventh New Year’s post. (I know the math doesn’t work; I didn’t post about New Year’s Day in 2018, because apparently I took a break between 12/18/17 and 1/8/18. I was young and relatively inexperienced in those days.) 

Seven being the number of completeness, maybe I should quit after this one. But I don’t expect to. 

It’s usually fun to reach a turning point like this—a new year, a new baby, a new job, a new house—and to anticipate the ways that it will change what lies ahead. I’m one of those optimists you hear about, and I tend to over-expect what good things might happen. That puts a spring in your step, but it also sets you up for disappointment. 

Others, perhaps less optimistic, or just under realistic threat of coming or continuing hardship, have expectations that are less sanguine. If the optimist’s weak spot is disappointment, the pessimist’s is fear. 

The Scripture speaks to both of those. 

To the disappointed it speaks of God’s sovereign goodness, the rightness and propriety of the expected thing’s not happening. The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord (Ps 37.23). Further, it speaks of the importance of not finding our ultimate satisfaction in what happens to us here (Ec 1.2-3). 

To the fearful it speaks abundantly; the expression “fear not” or something similar appears 75 times in the Scripture, and while many of those are referring to specific situations, the general application is clear. We fear God (Ec 12.13) but don’t fear anything else. 

But it has more to say to both groups than that. Three interrelated thoughts. 

First, this year, this life, this entire history of life on earth, are all temporary. Old coots are more sensitive to that than young ones (and yes, there can be young coots; look it up). The difficult things won’t last, and neither will the good things. While it’s impossible to be completely passive—stoic or Buddhist—about the trials and joys of life, we do find comfort in the knowledge that the trials will end, and we find warning in the knowledge that the earthly things we find joy in will not be permanent either. 

Second, as I’ve noted, life is providential; there is a wise and loving God directing our path through, and including, the trials and joys. They make sense—though not always to us at the time—and they serve a good and profitable purpose. Paul tells us that 

we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; 4 And patience, experience; and experience, hope: 5 And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us (Ro 5.3-5). 

The hard things—as well as the enjoyable things, I would add—give us the opportunity to endure, which makes us stronger, which enables us to overcome, which gives us confidence the next time. In our joys and in our sorrows, we’re getting useful things done, and we’re becoming the improved version of ourselves that will live forever. Life is temporary, but it’s an important investment. 

And that leads to the third thought: there’s more and better coming, and it will not be broken, and it will not be temporary. And no, this is not pie in the sky (though, given that the tree of life bears fruit every month [Re 22.2]), maybe there will be pie; who knows?). This is the promise of God: 

3 And there shall be no more curse: but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him: 4 And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads. 5 And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they shall reign for ever and ever (Re 22.3-5). 

In this New Year, live with the end in mind. 

Happy New Year. 

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Top Ten 2024

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Welp, it’s the final post of the year and time for the Top Ten lists.

Top Ten New Posts 2024

  1. On Magic (July 18)
  2. On Reading The Message (January 4)
  3. On Death (September 5)
  4. On Congregational Singing As a Team Sport (January 8)
  5. On Valentine’s Day (February 12)
  6. About That Hiatus … (October 14)
  7. On Widows in the Church (August 29)
  8. A Little Story about Worship (January 11)
  9. On Winning the War (series) (November 18)
  10. More Thoughts on AI (August 26)

Top Ten Posts of All Time

Same rankings as last year, except #8 and #9 switched.

  1. The Great Sin of the Evangelical Right (September 4, 2017)
  2. On Calling God by His First Name (November 16, 2017)
  3. Are We Doing Church Wrong? (July 31, 2017)
  4. On Deconversion (March 18, 2021)
  5. On How You’re Remembered (Strategery) (August 6, 2020)
  6. I Was Born That Way (August 9, 2018)
  7. Pants on Fire (August 16, 2018)
  8. On Sin: I’m Guilty of Adam’s Sin? How Is That Fair? (October 4, 2018)
  9. Freak Out Thou Not. This Means You. (January 8, 2018)
  10. What Jury Duty Taught Me about Comment Threads (July 20, 2017 [first post])

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After Christmas 

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They say that it’s not the fall that kills you; it’s the sudden stop at the end. 

Christmas is a loooooong season, and then a sudden stop. 

It’s a long season, of course, because that’s when the retailers make pretty much all their money for the year, so the hype is insistent, intrusive, and extended. 

Everybody knows that. 

And then comes the 25th, when there’s an explosion of gift-opening, a feast, and then maybe a football game or two while the children play with the boxes that their toys came in. 

And then. 

It’s over. 

The Sudden Stop. 

If you buy into the commercialism and consumerism and Clausism, then that can be a pretty depressing time. 

But it shouldn’t be. 

It shouldn’t be, you see, because you shouldn’t buy into the 3 C’s—because as we know, Christmas is not about the 3 C’s. And it isn’t even about the stuff that TV movies have in mind when they talk about “the true meaning of Christmas”—by which they mean family, and giving, and snow. 

Which kinda leaves out the Southern Hemisphere, doesn’t it? 

Seems like “the true meaning of Christmas” should include everybody. 

I’d suggest that the most important element of “the true meaning of Christmas” is that it’s not an end, but a beginning. 

It was an end to Mary’s pregnancy, of course, and that was undoubtedly a great relief to her. But all mothers, and most dads, know that a birth is a beginning to a far greater commitment to the raising of the child and preparation for his life mission. 

And in the case of this child, the Son of God, the life mission is the most important one in all of history. 

I’ve meditated before on the many mysteries surrounding the development of this unique child, the God-man. The questions are beyond our understanding, and speculation doesn’t really get us anywhere except to increase our wonder and awe at this person. We are mystified by our Elder Brother (Ro 8.29). 

We assume Mary and Joseph pursued his education in pretty much the normal way, but at least by age 12 he was aware that he had a mission far beyond that of his brothers or his parent(s). As an adult, even in the middle of the greatest crisis of his earthly life, he commented, 

Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause came I unto this hour (Jn 12.27). 

That “cause,” or mission, as we know, was to die, and to die no ordinary death, but one that embraces the wrath of God upon all sinners for all the sins of all time. 

And more than that—if “more” is the right word—to live in perfect obedience to the Law, thereby accomplishing the righteousness that will be available as a gift to all who come to him in faith and repentance. 

And even more than that. 

He came to save us, yes (Mt 20.28). But even that salvation comes in stages. Justification, conversion, is just the beginning of a lifelong path of sanctification and eventual glorification. 

And even more. 

As we noted in a recent series, the final goal—the real goal, if I can put it that way—is union and fellowship. This baby, this Immanuel, is God becoming one of us, to be united with the human race forever, to be our spouse in an eternal, intimate marriage. 

And so yesterday we celebrated the birth of this unique infant, but today is the first day of All the Rest of It. 

Lots to treasure now, and lots to look forward to. 

Note: I wrote this post before I read this.

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

On Christmas

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This is my last blog post before Christmas. Feels like I should write about that. I suppose I could consider my just-concluded series on “Immanuel” an extended Christmas post, especially considering the photo I chose for it, but I feel like writing more directly about the holiday. So here goes. 

Aging changes your perspective on things, and Christmas is no exception. 

When I was a kid, Christmas was all about the anticipation: What am I gonna get for Christmas? In those days my family was relatively poor. That’s not quite the right word; we had a place to live, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. But we didn’t have what you might call high liquidity, so not much discretionary income. At Christmas each of us kids would get one present. (I remember one Christmas—I guess I was about 8—when I got a football and a helmet, and I could scarcely contain myself.) 

Eventually I realized that I should give gifts as well as receive them. I picked a book off our bookshelf and wrapped it up for my Mom. She was highly amused, especially since it was a book she had owned since the 1940s. 

And yes, eventually I decided to buy gifts rather than just scrounge them from around the house. 

But now I think differently, in ways that most people my age do. 

When loved ones ask me what I want for Christmas, I usually can’t think of anything. I have all I need, and a lot of things I don’t need. These days I’m trying to get rid of stuff. I’ve even tried offering my books to my students, and I find that hardly anybody uses books anymore; they use electronic, and so do I. (I love the fact that when I teach overseas, I can take my entire electronic library—thousands of titles—on my laptop, which fits comfortably under the seat in front of me. And I also love the fact that I can make the type bigger. And that I can search my ebooks electronically. And I like lots of other stuff about them.) 

Anybody want some books? I’m serious. 

Um, back to Christmas gifts. 

If something I have breaks—most recently, my espresso maker—I can just get a new one; no need to wait for Christmas. And just for the record, I don’t wear ties anymore, so don’t even. 

I find it’s not about the presents anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. 

What is it for me? 

It’s family. All of us together, enjoying the experience. Feasting together. Telling stories. Reminiscing. Opening presents, sure, but the joy I get is more from watching them open theirs.  

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m also enjoying the season more. Christmas music—the sacred kind—is meaning more to me than it used to. I find the secular stuff mostly just irritating; I have no desire to rock around the Christmas tree, and I wouldn’t recognize Mariah Carey’s voice if I heard it. Though, come to think of it, I can still dream about a white Christmas, though of course it’ll never happen here in the upstate of South Carolina. And the occasional silver bell is okay too. 

Another nice feature of the season is the lights and decorations. The neighborhoods look good, and I especially like the decorations along the main street in the small southern towns—you know, with the single row of brick storefronts and the railroad tracks just across the street. Banners from the light posts and strings of lights crisscrossing the street, just high enough for the trucks to get under. 

Calm. Contentment. Joy. Peace. 

Merry Christmas. 

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Immanuel, Part 5: Forever

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Part 1: Creation | Part 2: Covenant | Part 3: Marriage | Part 4: Turning the Page

As we’ve seen in this series, God has always wanted to dwell with his people. From the very beginning he made humans in his image and apparently walked with them in the Garden. Throughout the biblical narrative there are people who “walk with God,” and the storyline consists largely of God’s choosing a people for himself: first, a nation (Abraham, Moses, David) and then a spiritual kingdom, the church, which, following Jesus’ Great Commission, will take his story, and the opportunity for fellowship with him, to the ends of the earth.

We find ourselves in the process of fulfilling that Commission, waiting expectantly for his return. Though we don’t know when that will happen, we do know that it may happen at any time. We don’t know how far away the tape is in this race.

But one day he will come. Some Christians (amillennialists and postmillennialists) think that eternity will begin right then. Others, including me (premillennialists) think there will first be a thousand-year earthly reign of Christ, the Millennium, during which sin and death will still be operative, but righteousness and justice will prevail under the perfect King. And then, eternity.

The Bible doesn’t seem to have a lot to tell us about the eternal state—though it speaks much, in my opinion, about the Millennium. (My premill assumptions are showing here.) Most of what we can read about eternity is in the last two chapters of the Scripture, Revelation 21 and 22.

So I pose a question. Will this fellowship, this walking with God, his dwelling in the midst of his people—will that continue beyond time and into eternity? Is history just preparation for an eternal dwelling with God?

Let’s survey those two chapters.

After the Millennium (Re 20) and the Great White Throne judgment (Re 20.11-15), which ends with the “second death,” when “death and hell [are] cast into the lake of fire” (Re 20.14-15), the eternal state begins. And it begins with the presentation of the new heaven and new earth. Note the matrimonial language here: the New Jerusalem is “prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Re 21.2), and eventually an angel calls the heavenly Jerusalem “the bride, the Lamb’s wife” (Re 21.9). It’s no stretch to see this as a continuation of the marital language God has used to describe first Israel and then the church. This is the realization, the consummation, of that intimate relationship.

And how is it described?

The tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God (Re 21.3).

After a description of the city, John says,

I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it (Re 21.22).

And again,

The throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him: 4 And they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads (Re 22.3-4).

And finally,

The Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely (Re 22.17).

And there is our answer.

God dwells with his people not just for time, but for eternity.

That has always been the plan.

So the Bible is, in literary terminology, an inclusio: it begins and ends with the same theme of God’s desire to dwell with his people in the most intimate and eternal of relationships.

It will be done.

This Christmas season we’re reminded of the completeness of God’s commitment to this relationship, and the certainty that it will happen.

Immanuel.

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Immanuel, Part 4: Turning the Page 

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Part 1: Creation | Part 2: Covenant | Part 3: Marriage 

Has God given up on his people? Has he divorced them with no hope of reconciliation? 

In the account so far, we have reason to think otherwise. 

At the dedication of the Temple, Solomon had prayed, 

Now therefore arise, O Lord God, into thy resting place, thou, and the ark of thy strength: let thy priests, O Lord God, be clothed with salvation, and let thy saints rejoice in goodness (2Ch 6.41). 

Solomon, who will be worshiping idols in his old age (1K 11.4-8), invites God to reside in the house he has built in Israel’s capital city. Will God refuse the invitation because of how he knows Israel will behave? 

Perhaps surprisingly, no. 

Now when Solomon had made an end of praying, the fire came down from heaven, and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices; and the glory of the Lord filled the house. 2 And the priests could not enter into the house of the Lord, because the glory of the Lord had filled the Lord’s house. 3 And when all the children of Israel saw how the fire came down, and the glory of the Lord upon the house, they bowed themselves with their faces to the ground upon the pavement, and worshipped, and praised the Lord, saying, For he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever (2Ch 7.1-3). 

God wants to dwell in the midst of his people, in spite of everything. 

Four centuries later, when some of the Babylonian exiles return to Jerusalem and rebuild the Temple, God promises to make this Second Temple, admittedly an inferior one (Hag 2.3), even greater than Solomon’s (Hag 2.4-9). 

We’ll get to how he does that in a little bit. 

And a prophet, Micah, in the midst of lambasting Israel for their sin, writes, 

He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; 
And what doth the Lord require of thee, 
But to do justly, and to love mercy, 
And to walk humbly with thy God? (Mic 6.8). 

God wants, he really wants, to dwell with his people. 

By his providence, the Protestant canon of the Old Testament ends with the word curse (Mal 4.6)—and it is a threat. 

But as I noted last time, there’s a page to turn. 

Let’s turn it now. 

The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham (Mt 1.1). 

That first chapter of Matthew demonstrates that Jesus is indeed the son of David (Mt 1.6) and of Abraham (Mt 1.2), and then it demonstrates even more: that this Jesus is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy (Is 7.14) of one to be born of a virgin (Mt 1.18), one who would be “Immanuel” (Mt 1.23)—and Matthew kindly assists his Greek- and English-speaking readers by translating that Hebrew word: “which being interpreted is, God with us.” 

God has been silent for 400 years, since Malachi’s “curse.” But now he speaks, and his words reverberate through the halls of history with an assurance: God still wants to dwell with his people. 

He is so committed to this intimacy that he himself, in the person of God the Son, takes on human flesh and becomes one of us. 

One of Jesus’ closest earthly disciples put it this way: 

The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father) full of grace and truth (Jn 1.14). 

He walks among us. 

As a baby, he is presented to the Lord in the Temple—a renovated Temple, yes, but still the Temple that Haggai’s people had built. 

He will teach and heal in that Temple, in Solomon’s porch, and he will clear the neighboring plaza of moneychangers and profiteers. 

He experiences deprivation—hunger, thirst, sorrow, and physical, emotional, and spiritual pain. 

He is in all points tempted just as we are, but without sin. 

And one Friday afternoon, as he delivers his spirit to God from a cross, the veil of that Temple will be torn in two, from the top to the bottom, opening the way for all to see that the Holiest Place is empty of a physical Ark, but access to God is open as it had never been before. 

God with us. 

He lives here with us for 30 or 35 years, and then he ascends back to heaven and takes his seat at the Father’s right hand. 

Is that it? Less than 4 decades? Or will he dwell with us forever? 

Next time. 

Part 5: Forever

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash