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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For My Angry Friends, Part 6: Demonstration II

July 18, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

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

So the first way we demonstrate that we’re Christians, according to Paul in Titus 3, is the way we interact with the government. What’s the second?

It’s the way we interact with unbelievers. Take a look at verse 2:

to malign no one, to be peaceable, gentle, showing every consideration for all men (Ti 3.2).

One observation immediately. The word men here is the Greek anthropos, which is not gender-specific. (There’s a different word, andros, that refers to men as males.) So believers should show every consideration for all humans, including non-believers, and including women.

Hmm. Seems like that might include The Squad as well.

Now. What does Paul say specifically that “every consideration” should include?

First, “malign no one.” You might be surprised to hear that the Greek word translated “malign” is blasphemeo, to blaspheme. That simply means to say something about someone that isn’t true. We usually think of this word in relation to God—we wouldn’t tell a liar that he has “blasphemed” Mr. So-and-So—but in the New Testament culture it was used of any false speaking about anyone. These days we’d call that “slander.”

Don’t lie about people.

I’ve written on that before, but here I’d like to come down a little harder on the concept.

We all have a responsibility for our own words: we need to ensure that they’re truthful. That means doing some research before we say (or write) stuff. Sure, you’re free to pass on that meme; but before you do, you’d better go to the trouble of making sure it’s true, because the minute you hit the “Share” button, those words become your words, and if they’re not true, then you, my friend, have become a liar. You can’t avoid responsibility by saying, “I’m not sure if this is true or not; I just wanted to pass it along for what it’s worth.” They’re your words now; you’re responsible for them. If they’re false, you’re a liar.

You want to talk about the importance of personal responsibility? Then exercise some.

Don’t lie about anybody. “Malign no one.” God said that.

Next, Paul says, “be peaceable.” That’s amachos, or “not [given to] battle,” the way atheist means “not [believing in] God.” (And no, it doesn’t have any relation to the Spanish word macho, which comes from the Latin root behind masculine.)

Be more inclined to make peace than to fight. Jesus talked about that, didn’t he? “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he said, “for they shall be called offspring of God” (Mt 5.9). Which is precisely what Paul is saying here. People will know you’re a believer because, unlike them, you move situations toward peace rather than conflict.

Ouch.

I’m often not like that. Especially around lousy customer service. Or slow drivers in the left lane.

But peaceableness is a characteristic of God’s people, who have God’s Spirit living in them. They walk into tense situations and calm everybody down rather than riling them up.

Be peaceable. In your posts.

Can I confess something?

I have a lot of FB friends—again, on both sides—who pass on garbage. I don’t want to block them, because they’re friends, and not everything they pass on is garbage, and I want to know how they’re doing. But when the garbage has a distinct source—some political FB page, for example—I click on it and block that source. Forever. And that means that when that friend passes on that source’s material in the future, I won’t see it. But I’ll still see their posts about their kids. That makes me calmer. And that in turn helps make me more peaceable.

Third, be “gentle.” At the root of this Greek word is the idea of fairness, even-handedness, and thus reasonableness, kindness, gentleness, tolerance.

How about that. Tolerance isn’t just the byword of our admittedly troubled culture; it’s a biblical command.

Of course we’re not supposed to let sin go unchallenged, and we’re not supposed to call evil good (Isa 5.20). But we can treat those who disagree with us as if they’re actual human beings, in the image of God and thus of infinite value. We can acknowledge our disagreements with dignity and gentleness.

But we don’t, do we? Not often. That doesn’t get likes or shares.

Wouldn’t it be great if people who claim to be Christians routinely acted like it? Wouldn’t it be great if these 2 short verses by Paul didn’t condemn most of what we say in our most public forums?

Yeah, it sure would.

Part 7 | Part 8

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture Tagged With: New Testament, peace, politics, relationship, Titus

For My Angry Friends, Part 5: Demonstration I

July 15, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

In chapter 2 of his letter to Titus, Paul gave some instructions to specific groups within the churches—older men, older women, younger women, younger men, slaves—as to how they should live out the gospel, how they should distinguish themselves from the world around them, and he gave a theological basis for that lifestyle.

In chapter 3 he does the same thing again, but this time giving general instructions for everybody. In general, how do Christians live so as to stand out from the world around them? He focuses on two specific areas of outworking: how we treat the government (v 1), and how we treat non-Christians (v 2).

Seems to me that we might find a little help in these two brief verses about how we should conduct ourselves in the current polarized political climate.

So how do we position ourselves with reference to the government?

Remind them to be subject to rulers, to authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good deed (Ti 3.1).

Subjection. Obedience. Eager obedience. Seems to me that the passage strongly implies respect. It’s a posture, a mindset, as well as simple grudging adherence to the law.

This shouldn’t be a surprise to us. We’re all familiar with Romans 13, where Paul says the same thing at greater length. And most of us know about 1Peter 2.13-17, where Peter writes in agreement with Paul.

Of course there are limits to this subjection. The same Peter faced down the Jewish supreme court, the Sanhedrin, when to obey them would have been to disobey a direct order from Jesus himself (Ac 4.18-20; Mt 28.19-20). Sometimes we must disobey the political power in order to obey God.

But it seems to me that many Christians are much quicker to pull that trigger than they ought to be. If the government told me not to evangelize, I’d have to disobey them. But if they told me not to hold a Bible study in my home because the neighbors were complaining about all the cars parking on the street, I’d be able to figure out some other way to obey the Scripture.

Sure, we live in a democratic republic, not under the kind of authoritarian state that was common in biblical times, and we have options open to us that the New Testament believers—and pretty much any believers before 1776—simply didn’t have. We can vote the rascals out. And we can publish our arguments for voting the rascals out. And we can take the rascals to court. And so on.

But we can’t violate the law—or encourage others to violate the law—unless a clear biblical command is at stake. We can’t ignore laws just because we think they’re unwise or inefficient.

I see a lot of people who hate anything the Trump administration does or advocates, just because they think Trump is a scoundrel. (I suppose this year’s Independence Day event in Washington is the clearest recent example of this.) OK, you’re free to disagree with the man and to oppose his policies in any legal ways, but you need “to be ready for every good deed,” and in a context of submission to authoritative government mandates. “Not my president” is simply not biblical (or legal, really).

And the pro-Trump folks don’t get off the hook just because their guy’s in office. I see them advocate that citizens who don’t like this country should be kicked out.

Um, you can’t do that. They’re citizens. The law says they have a right to stay, even if they’re disagreeable. In fact, even if they’re felons. You don’t kick lawbreakers out of the country; this country doesn’t have a legal mechanism for withdrawing citizenship if the citizen wants to stay.

Someday, Mr. Trump won’t be president anymore. Someday the president will be at the other end of the political spectrum (whatever that means). And then the situation will be reversed, and again Christians on both sides are going to need to suppress their fleshly impulses and obey the law.

Work to change it, sure. But obey it in the meantime, if at all possible.

What does “if at all possible” mean?

It means that when a bad law comes along, you obey as long as it’s in force and as long as you can obey the Scripture at the same time. And if the two are in conflict, you get reeeaaaalllly creative and try to figure out a way to obey both the law and the Scripture simultaneously, and you try to get the law changed through any available legal means.

And if there’s just simply no way to obey both, only then do you break the law.

Only then.

My friends, the contemporary American church has some work to do.

And some repenting.

For disobedience, sure.

But also for words. And for attitudes.

Think on these things.

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture Tagged With: New Testament, peace, politics, relationship, Titus

For My Angry Friends, Part 4: Proclamation

July 11, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There’s a reason we’re supposed to stand out from the way the rest of the world thinks and behaves.

There’s something going on that’s much bigger than just your rights and wishes, your desires, or even your whole life—or mine. It’s bigger than politics, even bigger than who’s the president of the United States—“the most powerful man in the world.”

God is telling a story, a big one, that involves everyone who has ever lived, and that includes you and me, on the streets where we live, and on the social media pages where we hang out.

After Paul has laid out some guidelines about how specific groups of people are supposed to act (Titus 2.2-10), he takes a deep breath and starts a new paragraph.

And he starts it with a tiny little word, but a powerful one: it’s the little word “for”:

For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people (Ti 2.11).

God is telling a story, you see; he has a plan. He is bringing salvation to all people.

To all people? To everybody? Nobody goes to hell?

Well, if that’s what Paul means, then he’s contradicting what he himself has already said in 2Thessalonians 2.12 and Romans 13.2. We can tell by reading Paul that he’s not that stupid.

No, he doesn’t mean that everyone will be saved.

So what does he mean?

Check the context. He’s been talking about different groups or kinds of people—old men, old women, young women, young men, slaves. Paul writes more than once about the fact that God is bringing together all different kinds of people into one body, the church:

In one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free (1Co 12.13).

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus (Gal 3.28).

For a much lengthier exposition of that idea, see Ephesians 2.11-3.21.

So back to our passage. God is bringing salvation to all different kinds of people—people who should by all natural tendencies be enemies—and bringing them together in Christ.

In Christ, not in a political party or a tribe or a nation or a league of nations.

In Christ.

There’s no other person or idea or movement that could do that. If world history teaches us anything at all, it teaches us that bloody divisions come to all people, for all sorts of reasons, including the most trivial imaginable.

But in Christ, people who ought to be enemies—who have significant and reasonable reasons for hating one another—become one in Christ.

Only God could do that.

So how do we live that salvation out? How do we live in a way that convinces onlookers that something unusual, other-worldly, is going on?

Paul tells us:

12 training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, 13 waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, 14 who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works (Ti 2.12-14).

This is what “Christian soldiers” look like.

How much of this do you see on social media? How much of this do you put out there?

Note that he’s not talking to specific groups anymore. This isn’t just for the old men, or the old women, or whomever. This is for everybody.

  • Renounce any kind of thinking, speaking, or acting that God himself wouldn’t engage in.
  • Don’t have the kind of emotional lack of control that typifies the unbeliever.
  • Live in a way that’s self-controlled, upright, and godly.
  • Be oriented toward the long future, the eternal future, rather than the immediate.
    • Look for Christ, not anybody else, to deliver you.
    • Follow him away from lawlessness and toward purity.
    • Be eager for good works.

I don’t see much of that from Christians these days. I see people who have heroes, champions, of one kind or another, and who ignore their champion’s faults while delighting over the flaws of The Enemy.

Interestingly, as I write it looks like the Jeffrey Epstein investigation is going to provide quite a list of pedophiles for public examination. Some will be Republicans, and some will be Democrats.

What do you think will happen then?

And how seamlessly is your online behavior going to blend in with that nonsense?

Or will it stand out?

Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture Tagged With: New Testament, peace, politics, relationship, Titus

For My Angry Friends, Part 3: Foundation

July 8, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2

As we noted last time, Paul begins Titus’s “to-do list” by urging him to get the right leadership in place in the churches (Ti 1.5-9), because right leadership, and the teaching that comes with it, is essential to solving the significant problem that is already manifest across the island of Crete: false teachers are leading the Cretans down the path to social destruction (Ti 1.10-11), a development made all the easier by the fact that Cretan society is inclined to go that way (Ti 1.12). Specifically, their rejection of the truth is likely to drive them to foolish arguments, which can only divide (Ti 1.13-14). If a people is rightly oriented toward God, they’re more likely to recognize accurately what is right and, consequently, to do it (Ti 1.15-16). Hence the need for solid leadership.

And what are those well-qualified leaders going to teach these wrong-headed, angry, fragmented people? “Healthy” teaching (Ti 2.1). Solid, robust, muscular truth. That’s going to set up a society among the believers—a subculture, if  you will—where the different demographic elements—the older men, the older women, the younger women, the younger men, the slaves, everybody (Ti 2.2-10)—live differently—noticeably differently—from the corrupt culture around them, each doing its part to contribute to the whole body.

I find it interesting that while each subgroup has slightly different responsibilities springing from its place in the culture—older women are to be the teachers of the younger women, for example, and to avoid gossip, while younger women are to be diligent about their natural responsibilities in the home—yet there is an overarching commonality that informs their specific behaviors. At the root of the specific things they do to fulfill their responsibilities is a sense of restraint: both the older and younger men are to be “dignified” and “sensible” (vv 2, 7), and the younger women are to be “sensible” as well (v 5), while the older women are to “teach what is good”—including sensibility (v. 5)—and not be “enslaved” to wine—both of which speak of restraint and wisdom.

In short, exercising restraint. Not doing whatever they feel like doing at the moment, but choosing to do the wise things, the good things, the things that contribute to the building up, not the tearing down, of the fragile and troubled society that surrounds them. Speaking what is true. Calling for love (vv 2, 4).

Even the hot-blooded young men are to do good (v 7), speak in ways that are “beyond reproach” (v. 8), so that—get this—“the opponent will be put to shame, having nothing bad to say about us” (v 8).

And the slaves? Those not well respected by the larger society? Those under—to put it mildly—difficult circumstances, being unjustly burdened?

Don’t argue (v 9). Show all good faith (v. 10).

So how are we doing? We live in a broken society, one filled with unhealthy ideas and words.

Are we part of the disease, or part of the cure?

  • What does posting things that are not true—lies—do to that already sick situation?
  • What does lack of restraint in our angry outbursts do?
  • What does evident lack of love (“let’s make Colin Kaepernick lose his mind!”) do?
  • What does gossip do?
  • What does lack of dignity do?
  • What does calling for open rebellion do?
  • What does arguing do?

Do these things give the enemy something bad to say about us?

Do they adorn the teaching that we have heard?

Do they?

If you’ve been paying attention to our political culture lately, no doubt this list of questions has called to mind specific things you’ve seen online—memes, posts, comments.

If the sins that have come to your mind have all been committed by your opposition—Trump supporters, never-Trumpers, conservatives, liberals, Democrats, Republicans, whatever—then you’re part of the problem.

Evaluate your own words against the criteria of truth, sensibility, and restraint.

And repent.

And as soon as you’ve done that, you have some work to do.

Some posts to go back and delete. Or to leave up, with an added comment declaring your repentance as loudly and publicly as you declared your rage.

Some personal messages, public and private, to those you’ve sinned against.

Time to stand out for good reasons, biblical ones.

For the mission. For the Kingdom.

For the King.

Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture Tagged With: New Testament, peace, politics, relationship, Titus

For My Angry Friends, Part 2: Introduction

July 4, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

It’s providential that this post, part 2 of a whatever-part series, arrives on July 4, US Independence Day. You’ll see why in a bit.

As I noted last time, I’ve found some things in Paul’s letter to Titus that I think apply directly to addressing the polarization dominating our country’s public discourse, and even the church’s public discourse, in these days.

If I’m going to make points from the Bible, I need to start with context, to ensure that I’m not pulling proof-texts wildly out of context but reflecting what the author actually intended to say. So let’s start there.

This epistle Paul wrote to his protégé, Titus, after leaving him on the island of Crete to care for the fledgling churches there. (And yes, I believe Paul actually wrote this letter, despite the huffings and puffings of contemporary critical scholarship. I don’t think there’s any substantive reason to doubt that, and several substantive reasons not to.)

Paul lays out his assignment for Titus in what amounts to the thesis statement of the letter, Titus 1.5:

For this reason I left you in Crete, that you would
1) set in order what remains and
2) appoint elders in every city as I directed you.

He then expands on these two statements in reverse order. (That’s called a chiasm, if you care to look it up.)

  • Titus 1.6-9 appointing elders in every city
  • Titus 1.10-3.11 setting in order what remains (to be done)

And what remains to be done?

  • Silencing the false teachers (Titus 1.10-16), and by contrast
  • Instructing specific groups how to reflect the grace that God has shown them (Titus 2.1-15) and
  • Instructing the body as a whole how to reflect the grace that God has shown them (Titus 3.1-11)

In my thinking, it’s the third chapter that gives us special help with the polarization that surrounds and dominates us. Beginning with the truth of the gospel—Christ “gave Himself for us to redeem us from every lawless deed, and to purify for Himself a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds” (Titus 2.14), Paul demonstrates that our life with one another should be fundamentally different from the way it used to be. In the most literal sense, it should be extraordinary.

So chapter 3 is a map of social life, corporate life, public life, among redeemed people. How do we see, and thus treat, one another? How do we operate within society? How do we get along? On what basis? And to what end? And what do we do with deviations?

I’m convinced that if the church, corporately and individually, adopted this model and implemented it—by the grace of God—we would treat one another very differently. And the world would sit up and take notice—for some, for deliverance, and for others, for hardening and eventual destruction. But for all, for good.

So what are the evidences of a godly social life, including citizenship (Titus 3.1-2)? Why are those the evidences (Titus 3.3-7)? What is the key criterion for proper relationships (Titus 3.8-9)? And what do we do when somebody goes off the rails (Titus 3.10-11)?

Your homework for next week is to spend some time in this brief passage and note the answers you find to these questions. We’ll get down into it in detail next time.

Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

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Filed Under: Bible, Culture Tagged With: New Testament, peace, politics, relationship, Titus

For My Angry Friends, Part 1: Foreword

July 1, 2019 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

As I noted in my
last post here
, I’ve taken a 4-week hiatus in order to devote my attention to a daily journal of the BJU Africa Team’s adventures in Tanzania, from which we’ve just returned. It was nice to be there, and it’s nice to be back.

In the interim, I’ve been thinking about the next adventure on this blog. I’d prefer to write about something I care about, of course, and something that might be of some help to people I care about. There are a lot of such things and such people, but I suppose the thing that’s most on my mind these days—at least of the troubling things—is the polarization of our country and the effect of that polarization on my friends.

I see it pretty much every day during my scrolling time on Facebook. I have a number of FB friends—many of them retired folks with long records of Christian service and care for others—whose postings are mostly a concatenation of forwarded stories and memes with recurring themes—

  • Things that are just not true. I’ve addressed
    that here before.
  • Things designed to stick a finger in the eye of
    liberals. Mockery. Disdain. I’ve written
    about that, too. “I’m not ashamed to post this MAGA hat. How many of my friends
    have the courage to share? Let’s show those stupid liberals!”
  • Expressions of frustration with the way things
    are going. Fear that God’s people are going to lose the battle.

All of these things have a common theme. They read as though there is no God, and if there is, he’s not in his heaven, and all is not right with the world. These dear friends are expressing a godless worldview, one that gives no hope, no offer of grace, no attraction, to those who are actually godless.

That’s a very bad ambassador (2Co 5.18-20) indeed.

I have another group of friends, equally dear to me. I don’t suppose these folks would object to being called “never-Trumpers.” They don’t like President Orange, and they shake their heads at anybody who does, for any reason. “Can’t you people see what you’re doing? You’re destroying evangelical Christianity! You’re undermining our credibility for generations to come!” Tut, tut. The posts of these friends read as though there is no God, and if there is, he’s not in his heaven, and all is not right with the world. These dear friends are expressing a godless worldview, one that is dominated by fear, one that questions the motives and the intelligence—and even the spiritual life—of fellow believers. They, too, fear that God’s people are going to lose the battle.

These two groups of friends have more in common than they might think.

  • Sometimes they post things that are true and ought to be considered in the political discussion.
  • But in the main they’re just reflexively forwarding, without checking, anything that confirms their worldview bias.
  • In being motivated primarily by fear or frustration, they’re demonstrating, as I said earlier, an essentially godless worldview.

God is never inattentive, or hurried, or frustrated, or unconcerned. He’s at work. He raises up kings—both Obama and Trump, most recently—and he sets them down again. All things he does are good and for the ultimate good of his people and, ultimately, his glory.

And if we believe these things—and we must, for they’re true—then we will live in a broken world with a different spirit—a different Spirit—one that brings to the observing enemies of God astonishment and even attraction. One that shouts—yes, that is the right word, as odd as it sounds in context—peace.

Shalom.

Not the peace of the Pollyanna or the Scarlett O’Hara (“I’m not going to think about that right now”), but the peace of the one who knows things that the riotous crowds don’t, who sees the chariots of fire on the hillsides all about, who knows that the chaos is only apparent.

I’d like for all my dear friends to grasp that so firmly that it oozes out of the pores of their every post— not for the sake of my newsfeed, but for the sake of my friends. Calming, conquering peace, way deep down at the core of their souls. And yes, for the sake of the legitimately fearful and frustrated, who have no source of peace, but who know people who do have it, or should have it.

What a difference we could make. What a stark contrast we could demonstrate.

In God’s kind providence, during this hiatus I’ve been studying Paul’s letter to Titus in some depth. I’ve found some things there that have helped clarify what I’ve been thinking about this bunch of troubled hearts. In this series, I’m going to share some of those things.

On to that next time.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

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Filed Under: Bible, Culture Tagged With: New Testament, peace, politics, relationship, Titus

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 22: Summing It All Up

May 30, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

And so we come to the end of the series on the gifts of salvation. It’s a long series, the longest yet on this blog. The experts discourage long series. Readers need variety, they say. Something fresh. Something that will catch their interest in a new way.

Fair enough.

But I did this long series anyway, because the length, in some ways, is the whole point.

As I said in the opening post, salvation isn’t really “a gift”; it’s a whole pile of gifts, wrapped in bright paper and tied with oversized bows and piled under the tree, where there’s barely room to contain them all.

Salvation is the most extravagant thing in the universe.

It goes on forever. Even longer than this series did. :-)

And yes, that’s the point.

God has designed the shape of the universe and the course of history around his extravagant plan to rescue you from the well-deserved disaster of your own sin and foolishness, and he has done so without your asking for or even wanting it. And he has done this not because of who you are, but because of who he is.

He has crushed your slavery to sin, not just breaking, but obliterating the shackles, and he has instituted an intimate personal relationship with you that will endure for all eternity. He has adorned that relationship with actions that become facets in the jewel of his love, with the result that this relationship is richer and deeper and more complex than any of the relationships that we know with our fellow creatures. It’s more than servanthood; it’s more than friendship; it’s more than brotherhood; it’s more than sonship; it’s even more than marriage. It’s all those things, and much, much more, in a single relationship.

It’s unparalleled. Unique.

Holy.

And that means it’s worth everything.

Jesus said that it’s worth more than father or mother, son or daughter, even husband or wife. It’s worth more than admiration or fame before mere creatures. It’s worth more than barns full of luxuriant wealth. It’s worth more than the whole world—and all the other worlds together.

It makes the greatest evils in this life—and they are great evils—“light afflictions,” according to Paul (2Co 4.17), who knew a little something of what he was talking about (2Co 11). In one of his most frank moments, he compared all of his accomplishments in his earlier life to a giant, steaming pile of excrement (Php 3.8). That’s strong language, because it’s emphasizing the strong and central point of Paul’s entire existence—and ours as well.

What else matters? What else could possibly matter?

Shake off the shackles of life focused in this world. Delight in the extravagant gifts of God’s plan for your salvation. Abandon your dreams to him.

You won’t be sorry.

—–

This will be my last blog post here for a few weeks, while I devote my effort to blogging a mission trip. You’re welcome to follow that story if you find it interesting.

Back soon, d.v.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: salvation, systematic theology

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 21: Breaking the Tape

May 27, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Introduction
Our relationship to sin: Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion:Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion:Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion:Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

Are you a tortoise or a hare?

How’s your pace in the great marathon we call sanctification—that one element of salvation that grows and changes throughout our entire lives?

Making any progress?

Well, biblically, the answer is “yes, of course.” If you’re in the vine, you bear fruit (Jn 15.5), which the Spirit is enabling in all kinds of character development (Gal 5.22-23). You’re making progress, a little bit at a time (2Co 3.19). You’re becoming more like Christ.

But chances are you don’t feel like it.

Maybe you feel like you’re taking two steps backward for every step forward. Up and down, up and down, progress and failure, over and over again.

Or maybe you feel as though the goal is so far away—Christ is infinite and perfect, after all, and you are so filled with flaws and lusts and selfishness and evil inclinations that seem to spring out of nowhere—that you’ll just never get there. You can’t run that far.

Maybe you’re just tired.

Can I encourage you to take heart?

You’re not alone in this struggle. Others are having the same experience.

As a matter of fact, everyone’s having the same experience. Every believer living today is crammed into that tiny boat with you. We might not admit it—we’re embarrassed by our failures, and we keep them as secret as we can—but we’re all struggling, all stumbling, all frustrated that we’re not making better time per mile on this marathon God’s called us to run.

There are no super Christians.

But let’s be frank. The fact that we’re all in the same boat isn’t really much encouragement in itself. Misery may love company, but in the end we don’t want miserable companions—we want victory. We want to win.

Since we’re being frank, let’s admit that having company in the lifeboat isn’t really the solution—though it’s worth noting that in God’s plan of salvation, those walking along beside us do play a role in strengthening us for the battle through their encouragement and the exercise of their spiritual gifts in our behalf. We can help each other out, in innumerable ways. Walking this path alone is exceedingly foolish.

But there’s a much, much bigger reason to take heart. I’ve mentioned it already in this series.

It’s predestination.

You see, God has predestined you to be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom 8.29). He has guaranteed that you’re going to arrive—successfully—at the destination of perfect Christlikeness:

We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is (1J 3.2b).

You’re going to plod along, with ups and downs, fits and starts, successes and failures. And then in an instant—“in the twinkling of eye,” as Paul says (1Co 15.52), “we shall all be changed!” (1Co 15.51).

Here’s what that means: no matter how inconsistently, erratically, just plain badly you run this race of sanctification—no matter how far you are from the finish line of Christlikeness when your life here comes to an end—if you’re a genuine believer, God is going to pick you up and take you all the way to finish line at the end. And he’s going to do it in an instant.

We call that glorification, and you can read more about it in 1 Corinthians 15.20-57. And thanks to that controversial word, predestination, you can be as certain of that as that the sun will come up tomorrow (Gen 8.22).

So. What do we do in the meantime?

Earlier in this series I mentioned a long bicycle trip I took in seminary. One of my big takeaways from that trip was a change in my regional thinking. I was born in the West, where we would routinely ridicule Easterners for their talk about “mountains.” “Mountains?!” my Dad would say. “Those aren’t mountains; they’re pimples on the prairie. Now out here, we have mountains!”

And then I rode a bicycle through those eastern mountains. The first day out of Boston, the Berkshires like to killed me. Then a bit of the Catskills, then the Blue Ridge, including a bit of the Smokies—a pretty decent survey of the Appalachians, north to south.

I decided those are mountains. And my days were spent head down, dripping sweat, lost in concentration, just pedaling one step at a time, one foot after another.

Just do it.

The Christian life is a lot like that. Except that the prize at the end is a lot better than even Greenville. :-)

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: glorification, salvation, systematic theology

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 20: Filled with the Spirit

May 23, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Introduction
Our relationship to sin:  Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion: Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion: Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion: Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

Everything we’ve talked about so far happens to every believer. No exceptions.

But there’s one gift in this collection that’s optional. Oh, it’s under the tree for every one of us: it’s available to all. But not everybody chooses to open it.

How do we know that?

Paul tells us that we ought to be filled with the Spirit (Eph 5.18). It’s an imperative, a command.

And that implies that not everybody is doing it, and they need to be told. Paul never commands us as believers to be forgiven, or adopted, or Spirit baptized. But he does tell us to be Spirit filled.

So we ought to be. How does that happen? What does it look like?

Let’s survey the biblical data.

Just one person was said to be filled with the Spirit in the Old Testament. He was the craftsman, Bezalel, who build the Tabernacle and its contents (Ex 31.3). The Bible says that Joshua was “filled with the spirit of wisdom” (Dt 34.9), but that’s ambiguous; many English versions spell “spirit” as lowercase, which I’ve done here.

But there’s clearly a change in the New Testament. The term shows up a lot, and it happens to a lot of people. And, as we’ve seen, it’s commanded of all believers.

John the Baptist is filled with Spirit from the womb (Lk 1.15), and that seems to be connected to the power of his ministry. Both of his parents are filled with the Spirit before his birth (Lk 1.41, 67). Unsurprisingly, Jesus is filled with the Spirit after John baptizes him (Lk 4.1). Peter is filled with the Spirit when he speaks to the Sanhedrin (Ac 4.8). Stephen is filled with the Spirit when he faces martyrdom (Ac 7.55). Paul is filled with the Spirit when Ananias visits him after his conversion (Ac 9.17), and later when he rebukes Elymas the sorcerer (Ac 13.9).

But what about regular people like us? At Pentecost, all the believers are filled with the Spirit at the time of the first Spirit baptism (Ac 2.4). But as we’ve noted, the condition is apparently temporary, since later all believers are commanded to undergo it.

So how do we get it?

Surprisingly, the Bible doesn’t say. In all the references we’ve seen so far, there seems to be an element of divine sovereignty involved; believers are filled, at God’s choice, when they need to be. John the Baptist certainly didn’t pray to be filled with the Spirit from his mother’s womb.

Yet we are told to be filled. It’s something we should seek, something we should desire. The filling seems to be connected to prayer in several references (e.g. Ac 4.31). So I think it’s reasonable to pray for the Spirit to fill us, and I think it’s reasonable to expect that God will answer that prayer when we need it.

What happens then?

The Scripture says a lot more about that.

The early disciples were filled with boldness to speak the word (Ac 4.31); the men chosen to serve the early church (whom we traditionally have taken to be the first deacons) were “full of the Spirit,” and the next scene has one of them, Stephen, boldly delivering the sermon that got him martyred (Ac 6.3, 5); Barnabas was full of the Spirit “and of faith” (Ac 11.24), and his next recorded action is to seek out the new convert Saul and confidently endorse him before the church; the new believers in Antioch of Pisidia were “filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit” as they faced persecution (Ac 13.52). So boldness to do the hard thing seems to be one result.

Did you notice that in several of these instances (Ac 4.8, 31; 13.9-10) the result of boldness is speaking? Maybe one reason so many Christians are afraid to speak of Jesus is because they haven’t chosen to be filled with the Spirit. And further, that one command (Eph 5.18) is followed immediately by the command to speak to one another in edifying ways. Maybe one reason why we’re afraid to speak even to fellow believers about Christ is that we’re missing this vital option.

And we’ve seen the fullness linked to faith (Ac 6.5) and joy (Ac 13.52).

Maybe—

Well, maybe you can write that last sentence yourself.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: salvation, Spirit filling, systematic theology

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 19: And So It Begins

May 20, 2019 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment


Introduction
Our relationship to sin:  Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion: Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion: Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion: Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

Part 19? And so it begins?!

Yep.

So far we’ve looked at what God has done for us, and to us, to move us away from our slavery to sin. I’ve identified 6 stages or facets of that process.

And now we’re 13 stages or steps into the process by which God makes us his own. Even before we knew him, he was 3 stages into that process. And then came the Earthquake, that moment when we were converted, and a whole bunch of things—I’ve identified 8 of them—happened simultaneously, in a glorious instant.

But all of that is prologue. Now that we belong to God and are no longer slaves to sin, we have a life to live, one that Jesus spoke of as “abundant” (Jn 10.10). The instant is over, and the long process of life in Christ has begun.

What does that look like? How does it happen?

Where do we go from here?

And so it begins.

You may recall a term we used earlier, in Part 12, which I called “Ownership.” At conversion, God makes us his own, and he sets us apart as his special property. I compared that to my wife’s “fine china” collection, which is kept in a special place and used only for special occasions—because it’s, well, special.

The biblical word for that “specialness” is holiness—being set apart. And another form of that same word, though it doesn’t look related in English, is sanctification. When we were converted, God “sanctified” us by setting us apart as his treasured possession. Back in Part 12 I called that “positional sanctification.”

But there’s a second, and much more complex, stage of sanctification.

Why?

Well, you don’t put cheap dishes in the china cabinet. You upgrade them.

God has indeed put his stamp on us, and we do belong to him. But he’s not content with leaving us as he found us; he’s not only going to clean us up—in fact, he’s already done that—but he’s going to change who we are, down to the very core of our being. He’s going to change us from cheap china to fine china, made from the very best clay, sculpted to perfection, painted and glazed with the artistry of the very finest technicians.

What does that look like for us, who are not in fact dishes, but human beings?

He’s going to make us like his Son. Like Christ.

You may recall that that’s one of the things he says he’s “predestined” in us. We are predestined, Paul says, to be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom 8.29). God has committed himself to seeing us through to the point where we are as much like Jesus as it is possible for people—who aren’t God—to be.

Interestingly, God has chosen to take his time doing that.

We know that he can do anything, and if he wants to, he can do it in an instant. He made fermented wine in an instant* (Jn 3), and thereby demonstrated (among other things) that he’s the Lord of time. He made the entire cosmos in just 6 days.

And yet he conforms us to Christ’s likeness slowly, over a long process—as Paul puts it, “from glory to glory” (2Co 3.18), one step at a time.

Why?

I dunno. But thanks for reading. :-)

Maybe because we’ll appreciate it more or understand it better that way. Maybe because he’s designed some kinds of healthy growth to take place slowly.

But becoming sanctified is a process that takes us the rest of our lives. Every day, in a series of kind providences, God is chipping away at you, polishing you, upgrading your thinking and your feeling and your doing to make it a little tiny bit more Christlike. We call that “progressive sanctification.”

And as Peter notes, one of the main ways he does that is through trials (1P 1.3-9). Like athletes in training, we improve by facing hardships and enduring them, overcoming them, and doing so a little more effectively every time we work out.

Now, there’s a purpose in life that’s worth something. There’s a goal that gives meaning to the most inexplicable things that happen to us.

There’s real hope.

* I know, I know. That’s an argument for another post. When I feel like it.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: salvation, sanctification, systematic theology

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