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

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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In the Image of God, Part 3: One Last Thought 

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Part 1: What It Means | Part 2: So What? 

One last thought. 

Christ perfectly images God.  

In whom [i.e. the lost] the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them (2Co 4.4). 

[Christ] is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation (Co 1.15). 

[Christ] 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 (He 1.3). 

Those who have seen him, he said, have seen the Father (Jn 14.9). 

And God is making us like Him. We are being sanctified into that image. 

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. 29 For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren (Ro 8.28-29). 

We all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord (2Co 3.18). 

And He will certainly take us all the way there; we will one day be glorified into that image.  

As we have borne the image of the earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly (1Co 15.49). 

[Christ] shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body, according to the working whereby he is able even to subdue all things unto himself (Php 3.21). 

Beloved, now are we the sons of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall be: but we know that, when he shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is (1J 3.2). 

As surely as the sun came up this morning, God will finish His work in us. He will conform us to the perfect image of His Son. In this life you will never image God as you should; you will never image Him as He deserves to be displayed. But your Savior, the God-Man, has always imaged Him perfectly and completely, and because of His work for you and in you, the day will come—will certainly come—when you image Him in a way that you can’t today.  

And in that day, with a numberless throng of people who don’t look like you, but with whom all of you radiate the image and glory and mercy and grace of God, you will sing His praise: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.”  

Take His hand, and follow Him through the trials and the challenges by which He is sanctifying you.  

He promises you that you will love where He’s taking you.  

Image God today. You’ll be better at it tomorrow. And every tomorrow after that.  

Photo by Ilia Zolas on Unsplash

In the Image of God, Part 2: So What? 

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Part 1: What It Means 

We’ve thought about the fact that humans—all of us—are in the image of God, and what that means. We turn now to what difference it makes in how we live on a Monday in February. 

For starters, we’re not animals. We’re not just a fortunate combination of mutations that allows us to survive, even prosper, in the place where we find ourselves. God created us by direct action, and in a way distinct from the way he created all the living organisms that preceded us. We are fundamentally different from amoebas, and slugs, and snakes, and trout, and robins, and even chimpanzees.  

You are not an animal. You are not controlled by your impulses. You don’t have to do everything that occurs to you. You can make choices. You can rise above the evil that screams in your ear. You can be a man. You can be a woman. You do not have to be a victim.  

Yes, you’re a sinner, and there are some things—many things—you can’t do without divine enablement. But you are not a brute beast.  

Further, we’re worth something. Humans—all of us—are valuable. Those of us who are “process people” rather than “people people” need to remember that as we wend our way down crowded hallways or sidewalks. Those bodies around us are not simply obstacles to be navigated around as efficiently as possible; they are eternal beings with stories and histories and loves and struggles and cares. They are worth infinitely more than whatever has us in such a hurry to Get Somewhere. 

And all of them are valuable in that way. People who are not like you. People who look different. People who act differently. People who think differently. People you know, and people you don’t. People who take the name of God in vain. People who are arrogant. People who voted for Trump, and people who voted for Harris, and people who voted for somebody who didn’t have a chance, and people who didn’t vote at all. 

People who have no money. People who have no home. People who live under an overpass. People who smell bad. People who have disabilities. People who are dying of AIDS. Muslim refugees. And Muslim terrorists. People who make you really, really uncomfortable. And yes, people who are still in the womb, and can’t speak for themselves. 

All of them are in the image of God, and all of them are worth infinitely more than all the bank accounts of all the rich people in all the world.  

All humans are valuable. 

One more thing. 

Everything you love about the people you love should move you to praise and worship God, who is the perfect originator of all of it.  

You are surrounded, right now, with thousands of reasons to worship.  

All day, every day, you should be driven to your knees at the glory of this magnificent Creator.  

And you know what? If we were to live that way, the sin that so easily besets us would not seem so appealing. We’d be living for something worth far more than the shiny little trinkets that distract us. We’d start to see victory instead of regular, frustrating defeat.  

Next time, one last thought. 

Photo by Ilia Zolas on Unsplash

In the Image of God, Part 1: What It Means

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In my previous post I mentioned that God’s Spirit is working in us to conform us, eventually perfectly, to the image of the Son. I’d like to follow that up by thinking more deeply about our standing as in the image of God. 

It’s the first thing God tells us about ourselves. After He tells how He made everything else, He describes the last act of the Creation Week:  

26 And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth. 27 So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them” (Gen 1.26-27).  

You and I are made in the image of God. What does that mean? And what difference does it make? 

What is the image of God? Interestingly, the Bible never tells us directly what it is. But there are some clues: 

  • It distinguishes the human from the animals, who immediately precede man in the creation narrative.  
  • It characterizes both male and female (Ge 1.27).  
  • It’s something like the way a son resembles his father (Ge 5.1-3).  

 Over the centuries there have been a lot of suggestions. I’ve gone into more details about this in a previous series, but let me summarize the views here: 

  • It’s something we do: Dominion (Ge 1.28) 
  • It’s something we are:   
    • Morality (Ep 4.24) 
    • Relationship (male & female; social health)  
    • Sonship (Lk 3.38; Ge 5.3-5)  
    • It’s something we have:  
    • Creativity (Ge 1.1)  
    • Immortality  

    Or maybe it’s all of the above.  

    You were created to radiate the love and mercy and grace of God.  

     Now, we need to note a critical point: 

    We’re not the way God made us. 

    We’re not the same as the Adam that God created. Something significant has happened to us. Adam chose to sin, and now we’re busted.  

    The image in us has been marred. But it has not been destroyed. 

    After the Flood God told Noah, 

    Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be shed: for in the image of God made he man (Ge 9.6). 

    Here we’re told that the murder victim, though fallen like everyone else at this time in history, is in the image of God. 

    Further, James writes, 

    Therewith [with the tongue] bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God (Jam 3.9).  

     The word similitude here is the word Genesis uses for “likeness.” And it’s spoken of a time when there’s cursing going on—so it’s after the fall. 

    So we sinners are still in the image and likeness of God. 

    Toward the beginning of this post I asked two questions: what does it mean that we’re in the image of God? and what difference does it make? 

    Next time, we’ll get to the second question. 

    Photo by Ilia Zolas on Unsplash

    On Sound Speech, Part 8: Closing Thoughts

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    Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 

    Well, we’ve covered some ground here. The Bible has a lot to say about sound speech. We have a lot of things to consider before we go shooting our mouths off. 

    Recall that we began this series by reviewing, briefly, how God speaks, under the assumption that as in other things, we ought to pattern our behavior, as much as possible, after his. 

    • God is slow to wrath; we should be too. 
    • God cannot lie; we should speak the truth. 
    • God is love; we should speak that truth in love. 
    • God has spoken in his Word; we should speak as though imbued with it. 
    • God speaks as one way of his caring for us; we should speak thankfully. 
    • God blesses; we should bless. 
    • God is gentle; we should speak gently. 
    • God speaks in ways that reflect who he is at heart; we should as well. And unlike God, we should conform our hearts to the right, something he has never needed to do. 

    Let’s cap this series with one more passage: 

    7 In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works: in doctrine shewing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, 8 Sound speech, that cannot be condemned; that he that is of the contrary part may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of you (Ti 2.7-8). 

    I’d suggest that we’re more likely to damage our reputation by our words than by our actions. Of course, we’re susceptible to doing bad things reactively, without much thought, in the heat of the moment; but words—the words come so easily. Good behavior is a laudable goal; but sound speech is the ultimate testimony to a godly heart. 

    It could go without saying—but it won’t—that we can’t reach this goal without supernatural empowerment. The Spirit of God, indwelling us, works in us day by day, moment by moment, bit by bit, to conform us to the image of God the Son (2Co 3.18). And one day, no matter how far short of perfection we fall, God will bring us to completion, to perfect conformity to Christ: 

    We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1J 3.2). 

    But sanctification is a synergistic process; God works, but so do we, in cooperation with him. Let’s not just sit back and wait to be whanged in the head with glorification, as if by a faith healer on TV. Let’s take part in the process, seeking aggressively and thoughtfully to follow the biblical injunctions. 

    What would your world be like if your friends and acquaintances always spoke to you like that?  

    What would your world be like if you always spoke to your friends and acquaintances like that?  

    Can you imagine the growth? The spiritual strength? The peace? The joy?  

    Can you imagine a world where we can speak kindly, yet with conviction, to people with whom we disagree? Where we can come to understandings, even agreements, instead of canceling people, one after another, for as long as time endures?  

    Can you imagine?  

    Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

    On Sound Speech, Part 7 

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    Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 

    Gentleness 

    Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear (1P 3.15). 

    Here the KJV uses the word meekness. Outside of Christian circles, influenced by the biblical language, our culture doesn’t use the word much. When we hear it, some are inclined to think of Casper Milquetoast, or a hen-pecked husband, or the guy the bullies kick sand on at the beach. 

    But if you’ve spent much time hearing sermons in church, you probably know that the biblical word means something very different from that. Meekness is strength tempered by gentleness; it’s power under control. It’s the weightlifter gently cradling his infant child in his arms; it’s the firefighter gently rescuing the kitten from the tree. It’s Jesus being moved by the sight of a widow escorting the body of her only son to his tomb, and saying to himself, “This will not stand!”—and then mightily raising the boy to life again and returning him to his mother. 

    Moses was meek, the veritable champion of meekness (Nu 12.3), yet he killed an Egyptian taskmaster and buried his corpse in the desert (Ex 2.11-12). He stood up to a group of bullies so that some young women could access a well to water their father’s flock (Ex 2.16-17). He led 2 million or so complaining Israelites—and Egyptian hangers-on—through 40 years of wandering in the wilderness after representing them before the God of heaven on Mount Sinai. 

    Moses was no pushover. 

    And his strength wasn’t always controlled; there was that Egyptian taskmaster, and there was also a time when he struck a rock in anger (Nu 20.7-12), thereby disqualifying himself from entrance into the Promised Land—at least until Jesus gave him a special invitation (Mt 17.3). 

    It’s possible to speak powerfully, yet meekly, and without sin. Someone asks us about the reason for our hope, and we can speak powerful words, but with an attitude that doesn’t drive him away unnecessarily. 

    Note that Peter here combines meekness with fear. Why the connection? I’d suggest that fear—respect—will encourage meekness. Of course, if we fear God, we’re going to represent him truthfully, reflecting, insofar as we can, his gentle character. And if we respect the person we’re answering, we won’t push him around, cut him off, or otherwise act toward him in ways inappropriate for someone in the image of God. 

    We don’t live in a gentle age. And because we don’t, gentleness will stand out against the chaotic social and cultural background. 

    Be the gentle one. 

    Genuineness 

    Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh (Mt 12.34 // Lk 6.45). 

    We should speak from our hearts. But that’s not really the point here: we all do indeed speak from our hearts, and that’s the source of a lot of our problems. 

    Your words demonstrate what you are on the inside; they paint a picture of the real you. And to the extent that the real us isn’t consistent with the characteristics of sound speech that we’ve been considering, we’re our own worst enemy. 

    In Part 4 of this series we talked about truthfulness. What we say ought to be the truth, and thus it ought to be an accurate, genuine reflection of who we are. 

    And that means that in order to speak soundly, we need to be healed from the inside out. We need to be regenerated, to be brought from spiritual death to spiritual life. 

    What I’m describing, of course, is what the Bible calls salvation, or justification, or conversion. I hope that you have entered that gate; if not, I hope you will—and if I can help you with that, please let me know. 

    No judgment. 

    But until then, you won’t be able to engage consistently in sound speech. 

    Even after conversion, this is a growing process; I’m not there yet, and neither are you. 

    But with time, improvement comes. May we all speak consistently with our heart, and in edifying ways as well. 

    A bit more to think about, in one last post.

    Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

    On Sound Speech, Part 6 

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    Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 

    Thankfully 

    We live under the shadow of God’s providence—his provision, his direction, his protection. All of our life springs from that truth. So when we speak to him, we should speak thankfully. 

    And when we speak to others, we should speak thankfully as well, because their presence in our lives, and the things their presence supplies, are all acts of God’s providence too. 

    1 Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; 2 And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour. 3 But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints; 4 Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks (Ep 5.1-4). 

    Recognition of God’s care for us will make us thankful for the care of others. Thankful to God, and thankful to them—and thankful enough to be inclined to express that thankfulness verbally. Thankful enough not to undercut their joy with “filthiness, [or] foolish talking, [or] jesting.” 

    It’s worth noting here that the prohibition of “jesting” doesn’t mean we shouldn’t tell jokes or comment on funny things. That word is talking about so-called “locker-room talk”: crude or coarse or obscene speech. It makes no sense to talk that way to people we’re thankful for. As noted earlier, we’re called to build others up, not tear them down. 

    Blessing 

    Several passages speak of the importance of blessing, rather than cursing, with our words. 

    9 Therewith [i.e, with the tongue] bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God. 10 Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be (Jam 3.9-10). 

    Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing (1P 3.9). 

    Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not (Ro 12.14). 

    Of course, this idea derives from the principle of edification; cursing doesn’t build people up. 

    We live in a hostile age. A great many people are angry at those who disagree with them, and they feel free to express that anger frankly and publicly on social media. In a sense that’s not new; people have always been angry at those who disagree with them, but it hasn’t always been possible for pretty much anybody to be his own publisher. A generation or two ago, people used the privacy of their cars to cuss out other drivers in ways they would never do to their faces. The spirit of cursing has always been with us. (I should note, I suppose, that by “cursing” here I don’t mean using bad language; I mean the opposite of blessing.) 

    What does it take for us to be speakers of blessing rather than cursing? 

    Well, to start with, it means we have to pay attention—to notice the good things in others, and not just the good things they do for us (we’ve already mentioned thankfulness), but all their good qualities. We need to pay closer attention to those around us than we do to our own interests, of whatever sort. 

    It also means that we need to speak up about those things. For some of us that means overcoming shyness; for others it means getting serious instead of just joshing people all the time. 

    Sometimes, for the sort of blessing that is more appropriate in private, we need to seek out private time with the person in order to deliver that message—as a teacher, for example, I can’t comment on a student’s academic performance in front of other students. But very often, we ought to consider speaking that blessing publicly, so others will hear it, and so the person we’re blessing will know that others have heard it. 

    Dale Carnegie didn’t invent this idea; it comes straight from the Bible. 

    Yet more next time. 

    Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

    On Sound Speech, Part 5  

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    Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

    How else can we speak like God? 

    Lovingly 

    That we henceforth be no more children, … but speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things (Ep 4.14-15). 

    We’re inclined to speak in ways that benefit ourselves. We want to win the argument. We want to defend our choices. We want to tell a good story—better than the other guy’s—and be the center of attention. 

    Now, there’s nothing wrong with a good story. Jesus told good stories. In fact the whole Bible is basically one really good story, augmented with insights from prophets and poets and letter-writers  along the way that give greater depth to the central narrative. One of the great joys in life is to go to a family reunion and listen to the stories we all can tell. 

    But sometimes we just want to tell a better story than the one the other guy just told. “You think that’s cool? Well, once I …” 

    Why not just let the other guy enjoy the group’s response to his story? Why do we need to beat it? 

    We should speak in love. That means we should seek to add to the grace and peace, and joy, of the ones we’re speaking to, aiming at their growth rather than our advancement. Our goal should not be to promote ourselves, or to defend ourselves, or to otherwise advance ourselves. 

    A companion thought to this is the goal that we’re lovingly seeking in the other. Paul writes later in the same epistle, 

    Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers (Ep 4.29). 

    We ought to speak edifyingly; we ought to speak in ways that build up the ones we’re speaking to. We ought to leave them better for having heard us speak. 

    We all have casual conversations, small talk. We all laugh at silly things together. Not every conversation needs to be serious or deep. But there ought to be times when we teach and encourage one another, when we “exhort one another to love and good works” (He 10.24). And there should never be times when our words tear someone down. 

    Does God speak lovingly? Does he build us up with his words? Well, we’re told, he is love. He speaks compassionately, encouragingly, with words of grace and hope. 

    Sure, sometimes he speaks hard words. But he does so in ways that he, the all-knowing one, knows will bring us out to a good end. Without his omniscience, we need to speak more—what’s the word? Carefully? Tentatively? Safely? 

    None of those words seem quite right. But one thing is sure: we need to speak more lovingly than we do. We need to edify one another. 

    Biblically 

    We’ve been in Ephesians for the previous point. In Paul’s sister epistle to Ephesians, he writes, 

    Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord (Co 3.16). 

    When we consider this verse, we typically focus on the musical part, the singing and the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. And that’s what the verse is about. But I’d suggest that this is still a “speech code,” since singing is largely a melodic type of talking. And he begins the verse by sourcing our words in “the word of Christ.” 

    Some Christian sects believe they should sing only psalms, words that are directly biblical. I don’t see the Scripture as limiting our singing in that way, though I do see those sects, all else being equal, as my Christian brothers and sisters. 

    This passage does say, though, that our songs should be solidly biblical. We ought to remind one another of the word and exhort one another to believe and follow it. 

    I see no reason why that shouldn’t apply to our non-melodic (spoken) words as well. 

    And to talk that way, we need to have minds imbued with God’s words. We need to have read the Scripture, meditated on it, memorized it, and thought through applications, so that those applications flow naturally through our speech. 

    We can do better than we do. 

    There’s lots more. See you next time. 

    Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

    On Sound Speech, Part 4 

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    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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    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 

    by 1 Comment

    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