Last time we established from Peter’s wordplay at the end of chapter 1 that the writers of Scripture were not just writing down their own thoughts and opinions; they were being driven along, like a ship in a storm, by the Holy Spirit, so they wrote what he wanted them to.
But there’s more to say about that. Hence I’ve chosen to pause our progress through 2 Peter for a little excursus on the systematic theological topic of the inspiration of Scripture.
The writers wrote what the Spirit directed them to write. But they were not stenographers. (As though anybody these days even knows what a stenographer is.) They were taking part in the process.
To begin with, they did their own research. Most famously Luke, at the beginning of his Gospel, informs his correspondent, Theophilus, that he had read the other Gospels and wanted to provide his own perspective (Lk 1.1-4). We know that the OT prophets sometimes pulled in existing historical documents to clarify their writings; for example, Isaiah cites 2 Kings 18 as his Chapter 36—and the Chronicler, centuries later, cites the same passage as 2 Chronicles 32. Further, the biblical writers, both OT and NT, routinely cite extrabiblical writings and even secular writings; Joshua (Jos 10.13) and Samuel (2S 1.18) both cite the Book of Jasher, and the writer of Esther (probably Mordecai?) consults the official archives of the Persian Empire (Es 10.2).
(By the way, I find the whole topic of biblical citations really fascinating, though I’m sure others may not. Maybe there’s a post coming on that one of these days.)
So the authors are contributing, by their research, to their own understanding in the process of being “driven” to write the Spirit’s words.
They’re also drawing from their life experiences. In relating Jesus’ teaching about a camel going through the eye of a needle, both Matthew and Mark use the Greek word for a simple sewing needle (rhaphis, Mt 19.24, Mk 10.25), the kind found in every Jewish home in that day. Luke, however, uses a different word, for a surgical needle (belones, Lk 18.25)—because, obviously, he was thinking as a physician (Co 4.14) should think, and that’s the Greek word that came to his mind when he thought, “Needle.”
Let me pause here to anticipate a concern. Which word did Jesus use? And thus which Gospel author used the wrong word? That’s a sensible question, but misinformed. Jesus was almost certainly speaking Aramaic, and the Gospel writers were translating in their heads as they were recalling and writing. Their word choices differed because their life experiences differed—and their thinking thus influenced the words they wrote.
One of my favorite illustrations of the cooperation of the authors and the Spirit in the writing of Scripture is in Paul, in 1 Corinthians. He begins his letter by expressing his concern over the cliques, the factions, that have developed in the Corinthian church: some follow Paul, and others follow Apollos (apparently the church’s first pastor after Paul’s founding of it, Ac 18.27), and others follow Peter (Cephas), and yet others follow Christ—as though he were merely a mascot rather than the Head of the church (1Co 1.12). Paul will have none of this; he asks rhetorically, “Was Paul crucified for you?!” (1Co 1.13). He follows that up by saying, “I thank God that I baptized none of you, but Crispus and Gaius” (1Co 1.14).
Now, he has not written the truth here. I can imagine him pausing to think: “Oh, yes, I baptized the household of Stephanus … and I don’t remember whether I baptized anybody else” (1Co 1.16).
You can see his mind working there, can’t you?
He writes—eventually—what the Spirit wants him to write, but again, he’s not a stenographer; he’s actively taking part in the composition process.
There’s a lot we don’t understand about inspiration, but what we do know is fascinating. And we do know that the Scripture is, as Peter writes, a “sure word of prophecy” (2P 1.19).
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