Archives for April 2026

Why Creation Matters, Part 16: Job

April 23, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I’ve saved the Wisdom Literature for last in this series; ending with this biblical genre, I think, forms a nice climax to this material.

Job may well be the oldest book in the Bible. Genesis records earlier events, of course, since it begins with creation, but Job, the man, sounds as though he’s earlier than Moses, possibly by quite a bit.

We all know the story. Satan, the Accuser, accuses Job of taking the easy path in life, and God, knowing otherwise, puts Job to the test. Job and his three friends, plus a latecomer named Elihu, discuss all this at some length, and in poetry. I’ve addressed some of these matters before.

Jumping to the end of the story, we find God addressing Job’s questions not by answering them, but by noting, in so many words, that Job is not in a position to understand the answer if he were to give it (Job 38.1-3). In essence God says, “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

He begins that response with Creation (Job 38.4-7) and then proceeds to Providence (Job 38.8ff).

⁴Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Declare, if thou hast understanding.
⁵Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest?
Or who hath stretched the line upon it?
⁶Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened?
Or who laid the corner stone thereof;
⁷When the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy?

Here God speaks to the very beginnings of philosophy. Those who search for meaning have to start somewhere, and God asserts that they simply don’t have the data they need to do that.

When God began drawing the blueprints for the cosmos, he made decisions about measurements—scale, metrics, and so on (Job 38.5). We’re not equipped even to probe that question; as far as we can tell, the cosmos is infinite. Scientists give it a radius of about 50 billion light years—oh, within a gigaparsec or so—but that’s not a radius; it’s just how far we can see (the “observable universe”). They’re pretty sure that’s not where “the edge” is—and how would we recognize “the edge” if we could see it?

So maybe it’s infinite.

But how can it be infinite?

We have no idea what we’re even talking about.

God’s response to Job continues.

With the blueprints in place, he began pouring the footers, so to speak.

Into what did he pour them (Job 38.6)?

And where did he place the cornerstone?

We know that in the early days of civilization, humans mastered construction techniques that still puzzle us today.

How did they build the pyramids?

How did the Rapa Nui create those massive human moai on Easter Island?

How did the Incas perfect dry-fit ashlar masonry?

But for all we humans could do, even early in our history, we can’t begin to fathom how to position a cosmos in empty space—or how to create the empty space to begin with.

When God did that, the angels of heaven were astonished and overjoyed to the point of exultation (Job 38.7).

God is infinitely beyond us. He is knowable, but he is not comprehensible. And creation demonstrates that, from the very beginning.

Sometimes the only appropriate response is just to sit quietly, to see, and to wonder.

To wonder at the glory of it all, and to wonder that this Creator offers us a relationship with him.

Those who will not see have no idea what they’re missing.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 15: Revelation

April 20, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

As we all know, the Canon ends with the Book of Revelation, which records Christ’s words to the Apostle John about “the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter” (Re 1.19). Four times John includes a creation reference.

Revelation 3.14

And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write; These things saith the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the beginning of the creation of God.

Here Jesus refers to himself as “the beginning of the creation of God,” which sounds to us like the Jehovah’s Witnesses, or their ancestor Arius the 4^th-century heretic.

Do we have a problem?

No. The word translated “beginning” here is the Greek arche. Like all words, it has multiple nuances, or meanings. It can mean “beginning,” as it does in John 1.1—“in the beginning.” The standard lexicon (dictionary) of New Testament Greek, which its users call BDAG, lists that as the first nuance. The second is “one with whom a process begins”; the third, “the first cause”—the nuance it assigns to this passage.

Thus this verse is quite similar to Paul’s use of “firstborn” in Colossians 1.15; it speaks of position or standing rather than of chronology or sequence.

Jesus is the person behind all of creation. The Laodiceans ought to hear what he has to say.

Revelation 4.11

This is John’s first vision of the scene around the throne of God in heaven. God is seated on throne (Re 4.2-3), surrounded by 24 “elders” (Re 4.4) who fall down to worship God, crying out, “Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honour and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created.”

It appears to me that unlike the previous passage, the person being described here is not the Son, but the Father; the narrative continues into the next chapter, where “the Lion of the tribe of Juda, the Root of David” (Re 5.5) receives a scroll from the one sitting on the throne (Re 5.7).

But as in the previous passage, the fact of creation is cited as a basis for authority, even worship.

Revelation 10.6

Here the speaker is an angel—evidently a powerful one (Re 10.1-3) who announces a transition in the timeline (“that there will be delay no longer,” Re 10.6 NASB), swearing “by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created heaven, and the things that therein are, and the earth, and the things that therein are, and the sea, and the things which are therein” (Re 10.6).

This is John’s third consecutive use of the fact of Creation to demonstrate the authority of the Creator.

Revelation 21.1-5

John climaxes his book with his vision of the New Heaven and the New Earth. But he is climaxing not only his apocalypse, but also the entire Canon of Scripture; he closes the Bible with an inclusio, a bookend that contrasts the Beginning with the End.

“The first heaven and the first earth were passed away” (Re 21.1).

“There was no more sea” (Re 21.1), in contrast with the Creation, which began with the globe entirely covered by water (Ge 1.2).

“The tabernacle of God is with men” (Re 21.3), whereas in the beginning he had walked with him “in the cool of the day” (Ge 3.8)—and we don’t know that this was a daily ritual.

“There shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things [since Genesis 3] are passed away” (Re 21.4).

“And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new” (Re 21.5).

Over these final two chapters of the book, John makes other connections with the first creation; the Tree of Life shows up (Re 22.2), and there are other linkages. See how many you can find.

So our Scripture ends with a full deliverance, a New Creation that overwhelms all that we have done to twist and pervert the old one. The end of the story—and the dawn of eternity—make no sense without the beginning.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 14: General Epistles

April 16, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The General Epistles encompass James through Jude; they’re called “general” epistles because they are not addressed to specific churches or individuals, as Paul’s epistles are. Two of these epistles are by Peter, and one of those contains the only substantial reference to Creation theology in this section of the Bible. That’s in 2 Peter 3.

Peter begins the chapter by reminding his readers to take heed of what earlier Scriptures have said is coming: “there shall come in the last days scoffers” (2P 3.3). And what are they scoffing? The idea that Jesus is coming back. They note that things are just proceeding, without supernatural manifestations, day after day, as they always have (2P 3.4).

There’s irony here, for Peter has them reference “creation,” meaning the beginning of history. Even today some who reject the biblical account of creation will use the term for the ancient past, even if they have in mind the “Big Bang” or the formation of our sun or our planet.

The irony, of course, is that there was a “creation,” and it was not the sudden, unexplained rapid expansion of a hypothetical singularity of all matter. It was not the unexplained accretion of rapidly expanding matter into a solar disk, or into a seething hot mass of molten material that eventually cooled into the third rock from the sun.

It was, as Peter notes (2P 3.5), a supernatural act by an all-powerful, all-knowing, perfectly aesthetic Being, who formed it all from nothing with merely a word—or a series of them.

Peter says that these scoffers are ignorant of all that (2P 3.5). But with a single word he crushes any possible self-defense from them. Their ignorance, he says, is willing.

Here he calls to our mind a passage in Paul that we’ve already noted: Romans 1.20. There Paul says that the truth is recognizable in the cosmos that we see all around us—but some suppress that obvious truth, they hold it down, because they simply do not want to acknowledge the obvious. In our day it seems that the primary external motive for doing this is peer pressure: the cost to a scientist’s professional standing for embracing creationism is significant. But as Paul goes on to tell us later in Romans, at root the motivation is not primarily external; it springs from each person’s heart:

There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God (Ro 3.11, alluding to Ps 14.2).

This is a point that Peter has already made in our passage (2P 3.3).

Having noted the irony in the scoffers’ reference to creation, Peter proceeds to cite another supernatural historical event: the Flood (2P 3.6). Since God has judged the entire planet once already, he can certainly do so again at the coming of Christ. Perhaps here (2P 3.7) Peter implies God’s promise never again to destroy the earth by a flood (Ge 8.21-22); he says “the heavens and the earth … are kept in store.” (In verse 22 he effectively anticipates the scoffers’ “evidence” in 2P 3.4.) But then he notes that the restriction on floods does leave at least one other option: fire.

Those who scoff at a return of Christ in fiery judgment (cf 2Th 1.6-10) are simply not paying attention to obvious evidences. Willfully.

And as to their allegation that much time has passed with no evidence of the supernatural (2P 3.4), Peter presents a basic fact about God that they are overlooking: the God who created time is not subject to it (2P 3.8). The passage of time means nothing concerning the validity of his words.

Some have interpreted this verse as a formula: 1000 years = 1 day. There’s a theory that as Creation took 6 days, with a 7^th day of rest, so the story of earth will last 6000 years, followed by a 1000-year “rest,” the Millennium. That’s interesting, but I think that’s all we can say about it. Peter’s contextual point here is not about chopping history up into thousand-year segments, but something much broader: God is not bound by time as we are. If he waits hundreds of thousands of years before Jesus returns, that is no matter. The promise will be fulfilled.

Thus we should not ignore, or even worse, scoff at the idea of a future judgment. It’s coming; we should believe. And prepare.

The God who created the cosmos is able to evaluate, judge, and destroy it.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 13: Hebrews

April 13, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The book of Hebrews is in a class by itself, for several reasons. First, it’s not a “normal” epistle, since it doesn’t begin as most epistles do; it’s really more of a sermon, a “word of exhortation” (He 13.22)—though in the same verse the author says he has “written a letter” (epistello, the verb from which our word epistle comes). Second, “the author,” as I’ve just called him (or her) is anonymous—and anybody who thinks he knows who the author is has jumped to a conclusion. I’m fairly sure Paul didn’t write it, but beyond that, only God knows (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History, 6.25.14). Third, it’s not really a “general epistle,” so it fits only awkwardly in that group, and as I’ve just said, it’s not a Pauline epistle either, so it’s just sort of out there alone among the NT epistles. And fourth, in my opinion it presents a picture of the person and work of Christ that is unrivaled for breadth, depth, and expression anywhere else outside the Gospels.

And here this author points three times to the centrality of Creation in his theology.

Hebrews 1.2

In his opening paean to the Son, the second thing the author says about him is that the Father used him as his agent to create the worlds (He 1.2); more precisely, “by whom also he made the worlds.” This statement parallels two others that we’ve already covered: John 1.3 and Colossians 1.16. Three different authors begin their biblical document by establishing that the Son is the Elohim of Genesis 1, from “Let there be light” to his resting on the seventh day.

But the author of Hebrews takes it further than John or Paul. He makes it the basis of a lengthy argument that Jesus is superior to the angels of heaven, for the Hebrew Scriptures use expressions of him that far exceed anything they say about angels (He 1.4-14)—and this at a time when Jewish writings were completely fascinated with angels and had been for a couple of centuries. I’d suggest that there are Christological implications of tinkering with the Genesis account in ways that de-emphasize the role of the Creator in favor of the mechanism.

Hebrews 1.10-12

As part of his contrasting the Son with angels, the author quotes from Psalm 102.25-27:

Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands: ¹¹They shall perish; but thou remainest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment; ¹²And as a vesture shalt thou fold them up, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail.

This reference to Creation is different from the others we’ve seen. Most of the earlier ones emphasize the power demonstrated in Creation and thus implied in the Creator. This one, though, emphasizes the temporality of it all; it will pass away. But the Son is not like his creation: he is forever.

This statement, of course, speaks to the deity of Christ—not because he is powerful enough to create the cosmos, but because he is unchanging enough to outlast it. By a mile.

Hebrews 11.3

Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.

This brief verse begins the author’s discussion of that all-important virtue, faith. He will eventually list numerous people from the biblical history who exemplified faith in their earthly dealings.

But he begins with Creation, and he tells us two important things about it.

First, we understand it through faith. Not blind faith—we always have to say that, and I’ve discussed that before—but openness to hear and believe God’s story, because we know that he tells the truth. Thus those who reject the doctrine have not an intellectual problem, but a volitional one; they have chosen not to believe what God has said.

And second, God created everything—matter, energy, and anything else that might be out there—from nothing. He created substance from non-substance.

We humans have never done that. Even the artist, who envisions a concept and paints it, uses canvas and brushes and paints that he or someone else has manufactured. The author, who thinks of things and publishes them, uses paper and ink, or electrons that excite LCDs, or something to place his ideas into communicable form.

But everything from nothing?

You can have faith in someone who can do that—and did.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 12: Pauline Epistles 2

April 9, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Paul cites Creation theology in three more passages, two of them on the same subject.

1 Corinthians 11.9; 1 Timothy 2.13

In two passages Paul cites Creation as the basis for worship protocols.

⁸For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. ⁹Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man (1Co 11.8-9).

¹³For Adam was first formed, then Eve (1Ti 2.13).

Both of these passages have long and complex interpretational histories, and it’s not my purpose to develop that in a brief blog post. Both passages are addressing proper protocol in a worship service—the first specifically headwear, and the second leadership in the church. In a feminist age, both of these passages are highly controversial.

But the point I’m focusing on here is not at all controversial—or it shouldn’t be. I note, first, that Paul views the creation account as history, as non-fiction; he accepts its historicity outright. And second, Paul determines the appropriate protocols for corporate worship, a contemporary morality, if you will, from that ancient historical account.

It matters.

2 Corinthians 4.6

⁶For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

Paul’s citation of Creation in this context feels almost off-handed. In this chapter Paul is contrasting the permanent, eternal value of spiritual life with the transitory treasures of life in the world. He will eventually write,

our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; ¹⁸While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal (2Co 4.17-18).

In making this contrast between the seen and the unseen, Paul uses the most logical metaphor, that of light; in his ministry practice he rejects “the hidden things of dishonesty” but manifests the truth (2Co 4.2). A hidden gospel reflects the “blinded” minds of the lost, who cannot see “the light of the glorious gospel of Christ” (2Co 4.4).

The greatest need of a blind world, then, is the ability to see the light that is all around them. The fact that God originally spoke light into existence gives us assurance that he can speak a deeper light, a more powerful light, into existence in our inner beings so that we can recognize the light that shines inherently from Jesus Christ, the true light.

Christians argue over how this works. Arminians emphasize the centrality of human responsibility in believing, while Calvinists focus on the moving of God in sovereign grace. The Bible is clear that both factors are important. We will not believe unless God does a work of grace in us, and we must believe; our choice matters.

This passage emphasizes the divine work of turning on the switch. The light is there to be seen; but blind eyes must be given the capacity to see.

How do we know that God can do this?

He’s spoken the original light into existence, and he’s created eyes in Adam and Eve to see it. As we’ve already noted, Jesus replicated that act during his earthly ministry by creating, from clay, functioning eyes for a man who had never had them. He can certainly do it again, creating spiritual eyes to see spiritual light.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 11: Pauline Epistles 1

April 6, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In Acts, of all the preachers cited, only Paul bases a sermonic point on God’s work of Creation. It should be no surprise, then, that his epistles touch on the doctrine repeatedly. And he applies it more broadly than one might expect.

Romans 1.20

Early in his epistolary writing he lays down an application that apparently underlies all the others:

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse (Ro 1.20 NASB).

This is Paul’s clear response to the “What about those who have never heard?” question. He says, “They are without excuse.”

I should note that he clearly identifies the “they” here in the previous verses; they are “men who suppress the truth in unrighteousness” (Ro 1.18). God, he says, has made that truth evident to such rejecters (Ro 1.19) through the things that he has made. I’ve written on this principle at greater length earlier in this blog, so suffice it to say here that anybody ought to be able to recognize all kinds of attributes of the Creator by just looking at what he has created—whether or not the observer has modern observational tools.

To deny that the cosmos evidences the power or wisdom or skill or goodness of a Creator is simply to suppress what is obvious. The assumed atheism of much of modern “science” reminds me of the Iraqi Information Minister, Muhammad Saeed Al Sahhaf, who during the US invasion of Iraq in 2003 went on television to deny that American troops had reached Baghdad, when plentiful videos showed American tanks and armored personnel carriers rolling through the streets. For his gaslighting Saeed earned the moniker “Baghdad Bob.”

The atheist scientist knows. He does. But he will not see, because either his own will or that of his colleagues simply will not allow him to. It’s not just teens who are susceptible to peer pressure.

Colossians 1.16

Paul develops this principle in more detail in a later epistle, written during his house arrest in Rome while waiting for Caesar (Nero) to hear his appeal. Here he asserts that Jesus, the Son, is Lord over all the cosmos (Co 1.15) for the simple reason that he has created it:

For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him (Co 1.16 NASB).

Note how the claim ends; his right to reign is absolute not only because he created the cosmos, but because he is the person for whom it was created.

Again, I’ve written on this passage in (much) more detail earlier, demonstrating the falsehood of the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ allegation that Colossians 1.15 shows that Jesus was created and thus cannot be God. We won’t rehash that material here. Instead we’ll focus on the actual point of the passage: Jesus is Lord—of all that is, ever has been, or ever will be. A key basis for that is his role in Creation.

And on this day after Easter, it is appropriate as a significant aside to assert as well that another evidence of his lordship is his emergence from the tomb, triumphant over death and leading a long line of followers who are thus triumphant over death as well.

When I was a boy I assumed that I’d be alive when Jesus returned for his church. Though I still hold open that hope, I realize that at age 71 the odds are increasing that I’m going to die just like all those folks from history.

That’s OK. Death has died in the resurrection of the Son, the Creator, the Lord.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 10: Acts 

April 2, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

After the Gospels introduce us to the life and ministry of Jesus, the Christ, one of the Gospel writers, Luke, presents a second volume of his Gospel, narrating the outworking of Jesus’ last command, the Great Commission (Lk 24.46-49). He repeats the Commission, expanded slightly, at the beginning of his second volume (Ac 1.8); whereas his earlier account says only that their witness should “begin at Jerusalem,” here it mandates four distinct stages: “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost parts of the earth.” Luke’s narrative lays out those stages clearly, ending in faraway and powerful Rome, where Paul, under house arrest, is preaching the gospel “unhinderedly” (Ac 28.31)—that adverb is the last word of the book.

Along the way Luke records sermons or testimonies by several different messengers, including a deacon, Stephen (Ac 7.1-53); an evangelist, Philip (Ac 8.26-40); and two apostles, Peter (Ac 2.14-36; 3.12-26; 4.8-12; 10.34-43) and Paul (Ac 13.16-41; 17.22-31; 20.18-35; 22.1-21; 24.10-21; 26.2-23).

Paul notably includes Creation theology in two of his sermons, both addressed to practicing pagans. The first is in the city of Lystra, in modern Turkey, on his first missionary journey (Ac 14.6-7). When he comes across a disabled man, who had never been able to walk (Ac 14.8), he heals him (Ac 14.9-10). The locals assume that he and Barnabas are two Greek gods, Zeus and Hermes (Ac 14.11-12), and set about to worship them with sacrifices.

Paul responds by contrasting the Greek gods with the one true God—and he does so by pointing them to Creation. Zeus and Hermes, Paul says, are “vanities” (Ac 14.15a)—empty—but the God who created all things is clearly not (Ac 14.15b). This God has been patient (Ac 14.16), even giving all mankind freely whatever they need to survive (Ac 14.17). Luke does not describe any immediate reaction to this sermon, but he does note that some time later, on their return trip, Paul and Barnabas do minister to “disciples” there (Ac 14.21-22).

Paul’s second use of Creation theology is much more well known. On his second journey he leaves his team behind to care for newly founded churches in Macedonia and travels by himself to Athens. There, grieved by the rampant idolatry he sees (Ac 17.16), he responds not only in the synagogue, but in the agora, the public marketplace (Ac 17.17). Some philosophers, intrigued by his ideas, take him to the Areopagus (“Ares’ Hill”*—there’s another Greek god), where formal philosophical discussions take place, and invite him to present his views (Ac 17.18-21).

Paul’s presentation is a masterpiece of audience adaptation. He begins with a local hook, a description of one of the local altars (Ac 17.23) “to the unknown god,” and he offers to present this deity.

This God, he says, has created the world and everything in it; how, then, could he live in a mere temple (Ac 17.24)? How could he benefit from anything we offer to him (Ac 17.25)? And since he directs the affairs of men and nations (Ac 17.26), our very presence here today is an offer of salvation from him to you (Ac 17.27).

And then, remarkably, he begins to quote their poets—extemporaneously!—as evidence that this God exists and is great and good. He had clearly studied their literature.

So, he says, repent (Ac 17.31), in preparation for the coming day of judgment; the God who has given all life can surely raise his Son from the dead (Ac 17.31) as judge of all the earth.

The Athenians do not respond well to the idea of resurrection; many of them view the body as something evil, from which we yearn to be freed by death. There is apparently no church planted there; in later years Paul will not write a letter to the Athenians. But there are a few converts, including a member of the city council, Dionysius the Areopagite (Ac 17.34).

To Paul, Creation matters. Very much.

* The hill is called “Mars’ Hill” today. Mars is the Roman god of war; Ares is the Greek. The name “Areopagus” is a clear reference to Ares.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash