Dan Olinger

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

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 2  

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Part 1 

We have, then, three distinct authorities: 

  • The Scripture, which is absolute; 
  • The laws of our land, which the Scripture has obligated us to obey, unless they compel us to disobey God; and 
  • Cultural expectations, because Jesus commanded us to love our neighbor and to live out his grace, mercy, and peace as ambassadors—again, short of disobeying the Scripture. We don’t pick our nose in public. 

How do we rightly maximize obedience to all three? 

We all know this isn’t easy. 

One thing we do know is that some random blogger can’t make these decisions for us; the answers will come from our mind and conscience as informed by our personal interaction with the Scripture and with the Spirit—who, we should remember, never leads contrary to the Scripture, which he himself inspired. This means that we, as individuals, need to be serious about our study of the Word, hiding it in our hearts, and thinking regularly about how, specifically, it regulates our decision making. Your pastor, though his ministry of the Word can be part of your information collection, can’t give you a personal understanding of the Word; you have to do that for yourself. 

Similarly, we need to develop our own determination that we are going to heed the Scripture regardless of the personal consequences. We can’t go through the hard decisions of life on someone else’s commitment to Christ; we have to be serious about our commitment to him personally. 

Third, we need to know what we’re talking about. For example, on making a decision about a legal requirement, we face a problem: legal issues are often political issues, and politics is by nature filled with highly inaccurate information. Both sides in a political controversy want to maximize their following, and in most cases they’re perfectly willing to lie to do it. So they exaggerate the threat and sometimes they just make stuff up. Further, these days most journalists are advocates, not reporters, and they omit facts that don’t fit their goals and distort facts that do. That means that we need to go to original sources—yeah, we need to read the actual law to find out what it requires. 

This principle of being accurately informed extends over into the cultural issues as well. We tend to overestimate the breadth of cultural expectations, to assume too quickly that “everybody’s doing it.” As just one example, evangelicalism in the US has moved from a general opposition to the use of beverage alcohol during Prohibition to more openness since. That move was expedited by increased ease of travel and consequent increased exposure to cultures where practicing Christians had not been influenced by the American Prohibition movement and had a long history of disciplined use of alcohol. So “everybody’s doing it.” 

In my experience, though, that’s simply not true. Though I grew up in a culture where alcohol was common (my extended family was more the beer-drinking type than wine connoisseurs), I decided not to drink for a few reasons: 

  • I had a family history of alcoholism; 
  • My parents decided to quit drinking when they came to Christ in their 40s; and 
  • During a brief period of rebellion during my gap year after high school I found that I didn’t handle it well. 

As an employee of my university, I’ve signed a statement that I won’t drink, but I wouldn’t drink even if I didn’t work there. 

All this to make this point: over the years I’ve often been invited to share a drink, and I’ve always said, “No, thanks, I don’t drink.” And never—not once—has anyone given me any grief about that or taken any offense. In my experience, there is no real social expectation regarding alcohol. The culture does not in fact require that of its good citizens, and everybody’s most certainly not doing it. 

So it helps us to be informed about what’s actually going on with the legal requirements and the cultural expectations. And of course, what the Scripture actually says. 

Next time, some suggestions about how we make those decisions now that we have the facts at hand. 

Photo by madeleine craine on Unsplash

On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 1

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We Christians find ourselves in an odd situation.

To paraphrase Jesus, we are in the world, but not of the world (Jn 17.15-16). He has sent us into the world (Jn 17.18) to be his ambassadors (2Co 5.20)—that is, to represent him well by living out his grace, mercy, and peace, and by spreading the message of the gospel to the ends of the earth (Mt 28.18-20).

Now, that means that we are to be different from the world and to make that difference plain—as Israel did under the Mosaic Covenant by intentionally not behaving like the cultures around them. They didn’t round the corners of their temples (Le 19.27), or wear linen mixed with wool (Le 19.19), or plow with an ox and an ass together (Dt 22.10). But at the same time we are to be “in” the world, representing God’s love, grace, mercy, and peace as well as his holiness, purity, and justice.

And God further emphasizes the idea of being “in” the world by saying that he has placed the earthly authorities in their positions and that we are to obey them, seeing them as agents of God himself (Ro 13.1-7).

So we serve God, obeying his commandments, and we obey earthly authorities, and we represent a good and kind God in the culture where he has sovereignly placed us.

We might expect, then, that occasionally these authorities will bump into one another. There are biblical mandates, and we must obey them. There also legal and cultural mandates and expectations, and we should do our best to accommodate them, to the extent that they don’t bring us into conflict with what God wants of us.

I’ve written before, and at more length, on Paul’s passages on this subject: 1 Corinthians 8-10 and Romans 14. But here I’d like to comment a little further on making decisions, sometimes hard ones, on practical matters.

There are clear biblical commandments. The big two, according to Jesus, are to love God and love your neighbor (Mt 22.37-39). We always ought to obey those.

But we know that there are some biblical commandments that we must not obey. The entire Mosaic ceremonial code—priesthood and sacrifices—has been fulfilled in and by Christ, who offered one sacrifice forever (He 10.12), and we would be wrong to follow the Levitical sacrificial code. In this case, as time has passed, the biblical expectation has been completely reversed.

Further, we know that some of the Bible’s commandments were culturally based. As just one example, Paul commands that we greet one another with a holy kiss (Ro 16.16), and I’m not seeing a whole lot of that among the brethren, at least in the US. We understand that we ought to greet one another affectionately and sincerely, and here in the US that usually involves a handshake or a hug, not a kiss. Cultural adaptation.

Some interpreters bring this principle into passages in a more controversial way. Paul’s proscription of women speaking in the assembly (1Co 14.34), for example, they suggest was unique to the Corinthian situation; the women there were causing a problem by their speaking in the church, so Paul told them to give it a rest; but he did not intend this to be a prohibition for all his churches, let alone for churches today.

Now, I’m open to that possibility in the abstract, but proper hermeneutics calls for careful consideration of the context. And I note that

  • Paul does not hint at any geographical limitation in the passage, nor does he describe any kind of misbehavior that elicited the prohibition;
  • Paul makes similar prohibitions in letters to other churches, such as the one in Ephesus (1Ti 2.12), which is on a completely different continent from Corinth;
  • And the reason he gives for the latter prohibition is not the behavior of the women in the Ephesian church, but the behavior of just one, and at the very beginning of time—the mother of us all (1Ti 2.13-14).

So I’d call that a legitimate principle—culture can indeed affect the application of a passage—but not textually indicated in this case.

We’ll continue this next time.

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A Theology of a Morning Walk, Part 2: The Theology 

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Part 1: The Walk 

The previous post described a walk on the beach. 

What was I thinking about during that time? 

Let me tell you. 

God’s Power and Faithfulness 

The first thing you notice while walking on the beach is of course the ocean. It’s active, with the waves crashing a (reasonably) steady drumbeat on the sand. And it extends over the horizon, all the way to someplace far away. As I noted, this thing goes all the way to Perth. It’s unimaginably immense. 

And God says to it, “Thus far you shall come, but no farther; and here shall your proud waves stop” (Job 38.11). 

I see the moon, thousands of miles away, shining with the albedo of the reflected sun, even farther away, and Jupiter, farther yet, also reflecting the sun’s light, and a host of stars, exponentially farther. In a dark sky, a few of those “stars” would actually be galaxies, comprising millions of stars themselves. 

In the understatement of all time, Moses writes, “He made the stars also” (Ge 1.16). 

And this massive system runs like a clock. Or rather, our clocks attempt to run like it. We mark our years, and months, and days because God has created a system that is faithful, down to the second. So I knew before I started out that high tide was at 8:55 and sunrise at 6:38. Sure enough. 

God’s faithfulness is also evident in his provision for his creatures: air, and water, and food, and warmth. Life is everywhere, from the microscopic on up, and it thrives because God is faithful. 

Beauty 

The wisest man who ever lived said that God “has made everything beautiful in his time” (Ec 3.11). You see that beauty everywhere—in the sunrise, in the cloud formations, in the iridescence of the seashells, in the astonishing variety of size and color in just the scallop shells, in the sea oats holding the dunes together, in the people walking and running and cycling. And that beauty resonates with us humans, because we are made in God’s image; I’m not the only one out at the jetty to watch the sunrise. 

Human Stewardship 

God has given us the responsibility—and the privilege—to take the raw elements of creation and develop them effectively and wisely. I see that everywhere on my walk, from the ships on the horizon to the waterfront houses to the rock jetty—it’s not a natural formation—to the little signs asking passersby to please be careful of the turtle nests, and to the dog owners who have trained their best-friend canines not to go potty on the beach. I see it in the parking lot in all those cars that have come all those miles with gas-powered explosions in their engines and not breaking down while it all happens. I see it in the websites I consulted about the tides and the sunrise and the weather. (And thanks to those meteorologists, I knew to get off the island 4 days before Hurricane Debby showed up and flooded the place.) 

Brokenness 

Speaking of young Debby, my walk reminded me that my pleasant and enjoyable experience wasn’t actually in the world that the powerful and faithful God had created—or rather, that this world, which he did indeed create, is not the same as it was when he rested on the seventh day. It’s broken. 

I see evidences of natural death all around me: those horseshoe crab carapaces, and the little tiny holes in pretty much every bivalve shell, where a predator has overcome the poor creature’s defense system and made a meal of him. I’m not a fan of Jack London or of Darwin, but when the former describes nature—what the latter suggested operates for “the survival of the fittest”—as “red in tooth and claw,” he’s right. 

And those Marine recruits over on Parris Island are engaging in wise preparation because humans are broken, and they do bad things, sometimes on a global scale. 

But outshining all the evil is the greatness and goodness of God. 

That was a great walk. 

Photo by Hari Perisetla on Unsplash

A Theology of a Morning Walk, Part 1: The Walk 

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While vacationing on Hilton Head Island recently, I got up early one morning to do one of my favorite things. Up at 5, I headed out to the beach to walk a couple of miles to a favorite location for watching the sunrise. 

Leaving my beach shoes at the end of the boardwalk, I turn left to head northeast along the beach. On my right, still invisible in the early morning darkness, lies the Atlantic Ocean, but I can hear it “flushing and flushing,” as one child once said. Out on the horizon I can see the lights of 5 different ships, and to my left, a few lights in resort hotels and multimillion-dollar houses fronting the ocean. (I wonder what they pay for flood insurance?) 

Most people standing on a beach in the eastern US assume that straight in front of them is Europe, or maybe North Africa. Actually, from here it’s the eastern tip of Brazil, and the next landfall, believe it or not, is in Western Australia. 

I know the tide is still coming in—high tide is 5:55 am—so I keep to my left to give the water room to crawl up the beach, but down the beach enough to have packed sand, which I find easier to walk on. 

Above and slightly ahead of me, just on my right, I can see the moon, in waning crescent phase, with Capella at its ten o’clock and Jupiter at its two. There’s a long ridge of clouds to the northeast, at first reaching high enough to blur the moon, but within a few minutes the height of the ridge begins to recede. 

In those dark hours you’re typically alone on the beach, and the waves provide the only sound. But when I’m a mile or so down the beach, there’s a slight lightening of the sky in the southeast, and I begin to hear the calls of the sea birds, up and looking for breakfast. They soar, seemingly effortlessly, occasionally rising a few feet and then turning to dive straight down into the chop, aiming for a fish. Sometimes they get it; sometimes they don’t. 

I begin to see the rock jetty, dimly at first, but as I get closer, and the light increases, it comes plainly into view. And out come the other beach walkers, some for the exercise, others combing for seashells, yet others riding bicycles with fat, relatively low-pressure tires to maneuver well on the sand. 

When I arrive at the jetty, the cloud ridge is still obscuring the horizon, so I won’t be able to see the sun break the horizon and then rise to full glory. But I know exactly when it happens—6:38 am—because observers of the sky tell us these things. 

Sometimes I see Christians reading their Bibles out on the jetty, and others—perhaps New Agers, perhaps not—facing the rising sun with various poses, welcoming the new day. There’s none of that this morning; just walkers—some with coffee cup in hand—and bicyclists. 

I move beyond the jetty, following the shoreline to the left as it begins to turn the north end of the island. There are often horseshoe crabs here, and while I don’t see any live ones, I do come across four carapaces, one of them disarticulated. I also come across a good-sized sand crab, also disarticulated; I assume he made a tasty meal for some predator. 

Then further around the north end, to where I can see the low-lying Parris Island, where I assume the latest class of Marine recruits is having a far more strenuous morning than I am. I appreciate their willingness to do hard things for honorable purposes. And I find that I feel no irony in being thankful that their rigors are not those of this old, growingly creaky guy. God bless them. 

With that, it’s time to turn around. I like to time the turning point at sunrise, so I’m not squinting into the sun on the way back. 

After 7 am, the beach is getting busy. I see the beach patrol cart moving along the high beach as the staff check on the turtle nests; at one point they stop and deliver an impromptu teaching session to interested passersby. Several folks are fishing—I watch one young man pull in a 9-inch something-or-other as I’m walking by—and others are setting up tents and coolers and wagons full of folding chairs and beach toys in preparation for a full day on the beach, as the lifeguards are setting up chairs and umbrellas for the paying guests. Others are bringing their canine friends out for an early morning run, some tossing balls into the water for them to fetch. Dogs and beaches have a special relationship. 

Back at the boardwalk at 8; time to rinse off the sand and walk across the parking lot to the condo, passing cars from pretty much every state in the Southeast, as well as Ohio, Pennsylvania, Iowa, Texas, Kansas, and even Montana. And Ontario. 

Now, what about the theology? 

Next time. 

Photo by Hari Perisetla on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 5: Mentors 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence | Part 4: Thought 

One more item in Paul’s list of areas we should give attention to and discipline: 

Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you (Php 4.9). 

He encourages the believers in Philippi—a church that he planted—to imitate his example, to follow his practices. These days we call such a person a mentor, and those who imitate him proteges. 

Some people might find this surprising. Isn’t this arrogant of Paul—especially since Christ is the only perfect example? 

Good point. And as it happens, Paul says that himself elsewhere: 

Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ (1Co 11.1). 

He’s clearly not placing his value as an example above that of Christ. 

I’ll note that Paul’s exhortation here indicates that he has been careful to set the kind of example that the Philippians should follow. He’s been helped in that, certainly by the fact that he’s an apostle, guided by the Spirit into all truth (Jn 16.13).  

Slight sidetrack: Many interpreters would apply Jn 16.13 to all believers. I don’t, because I know that I’m not guided into all truth, and as I tell my students, I have written documentation in a file cabinet in my office that they are not guided into all truth either. I think this is a promise to the apostles that they would be inerrant in their reporting of Jesus’ life and teachings—their proclamation of the gospel. This of course would come to us through the New Testament. But since only three men in the room in John 16 wrote any New Testament, I’m also inclined to believe that the rest of the apostles, though not sinless (Ga 2.11), were inerrant in their preaching—which makes Luke’s description of the Bereans all the more remarkable (Ac 17.11; but cf 1Th 2.13). 

But to return. 

Paul here encourages the Philippians to imitate his example. 

Might this exhortation have broader significance? Should we, two millennia after Paul’s death, imitate him too? It occurs to me that we’ll have a harder time doing so, since we can’t see Paul’s example in his day-to-day life, as the Philippians did. But there are certainly a good many things we can know about him, and those things we can imitate. 

But to go a step further. Can we take Paul’s words as a general endorsement of the concept of mentorship? There are a good many Christian books on discipleship that do just that, and I don’t see a reason to disagree with them. Paul’s teaching on spiritual gifts seems to imply strongly that all believers should sit under gifted teachers and should live exemplary lives before their church assemblies. 

So, I would suggest, we can all benefit from following the examples of exemplary believers. (The apparent redundancy there is intentional and is not actually redundant.) And Paul’s words here in verse 9 indicate that we should be careful whom we choose. 

I suppose it could go without saying that we should choose as models those who follow Christ well, consistently, carefully, graciously. We should choose them not because they’re popular, or good-looking, or socially adept. We should recognize something of the character of Christ in them and then seek to integrate that character trait into our own thinking and lifestyle. We should ask them questions, and we should listen to the answers. 

I suppose it’s worthwhile to insert a caution here. 

You and I are not called to be anybody else. God has made us all different, and he has gifted us to serve in ways that are the sum of our DNA, our upbringing, our experiences, our sanctification, and yes, our gifting. I’ve known Christians who want desperately to be just like somebody they admire, and those efforts always end in disappointment. We’re called to be ourselves, remade in the image of Christ. 

But we ought to follow examples, carefully chosen, in our lifelong journey to be like Christ. 

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On Discipline, Part 4: Thought 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence 

The next area of discipline in Paul’s list is likely the toughest one for many people. 

 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things (Php 4.8). 

Here Paul calls for mental discipline: controlling what you think about. 

This is tough. 

We’re not used to that in our culture, and in recent years it’s only getting more difficult. We naturally tend to think about whatever pops into our head. Most often those things pop in from our daily circumstances—conversations, assigned tasks, and so on. Many of those things we don’t control; they just show up, and we think about them. 

But with the rise of social media, we’re being conditioned against mental discipline. Social media posts scroll by, and we think about them for 5 or 10 seconds, and we move on. We’re passive consumers of mental stimulation; it’s all up to the algorithms, and our thoughtful choices have nothing to do with what’s being poured into our brain bucket. There’s no discipline or self-control whatsoever; it’s just random dopamine hits. 

Yikes. 

But it gets worse. Neurological research indicates that the more we engage in this kind of media surfing, the less thinking we’re able to do; our brain rewires itself for “fast-twitch” thinking rather than long-form consideration of more complex ideas. If a paragraph consists of more than 9 or 10 lines, we’re not going to consume it thoughtfully; eventually we’ll just skip it altogether. (How many of the issues that we deal with in modern society can we think through in 5 or 10 seconds? We’re being conditioned against wisdom.) 

For more information on this concept, I highly recommend Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. He brings serious research to the question. 

In this pervasively “fast-twitch” environment, we’re going to find it harder than ever to follow Paul’s admonition. In a culture where many people have no mental discipline, directing your thought anywhere in particular, let alone to specific areas, is going to seem strange and foreign. 

I’d suggest some practical things: 

  • Read, regularly and repeatedly. Of course, believers should read their Bibles as their primary source of spiritual nutrition. But any long-form reading will strengthen your mental discipline. (And no, the closed captions on movies are not long-form reading.) 
  • Memorize Scripture. Memorization requires repeated review (I have a system, and I hope you do too), which will enable you to bring to mind biblical content whenever you have some mental free time—while driving, walking, standing in line, and so on. 
  • Approach casual conversations thoughtfully. Sure, small talk has its place; but if your conversations at church are all about football or politics, they could use some discipline. Direct conversations to substantial things. “How can I pray for you?” is one way to start. 
  • Use “down time” thoughtfully. While you’re waiting to fall asleep at night, direct your thoughts. 

Paul includes here a list of things to think about. I’m not sure detailed word studies on each term are what he’s after; the list could be more of a random collection of examples than a to-do list. I doubt that once you’ve thought about his list of 8 things, he’d say you’re done. Think about anything excellent; think about anything praiseworthy. Think on purpose. 

Again, this is hard. We like to let our thoughts go wherever they take us. But they do take us places, and while “the power of positive thinking” isn’t a magical formula for personal success—“if you can believe it, you can achieve it!”—the way we think does make a difference in the progress and outcome of our living. It certainly makes a difference in our spiritual success, our sanctification. 

Think on these things. 

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On Discipline, Part 3: Dependence 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action

Paul now turns to a third area where we need discipline:

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Php 4.6-7).

People come in all varieties. Some are pretty self-confident; they think they can deal with whatever comes down the pike. Don’t need any help, thanks. I got this.

But if the truth be known, even those people worry. They think about how they’re going to deal with this issue or that, and even though they don’t want to ask anybody else for help, they still spend time on the mental merry-go-round, trying to figure out the next step.

And for others, it’s even more difficult. Worry becomes anxiety, and fear dominates their thinking.

This is the human condition.

And if we humans are merely the peak of evolutionary development, with no one higher to look to, then we’re doomed to a lifetime of anxiety.

But we’re not, and we’re not.

There is a higher throne. And Paul points us there.

Don’t worry about anything, he says.

What? Don’t worry about where the rent’s coming from? About progressive degenerative disease? About broken relationships? About societal ills? About nuclear holocaust?

That’s just crazy.

No, my friend. It’s crazy only if we’re all there is.

But there is a God, and he is infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth. And further, he loves us, and he invites us to bring our anxieties to him and leave them there.

He can provide the rent money, and grace to face the physical ravages of time, and relational healing, and societal peace. And he can prevent nuclear holocaust, in his good will.

Bring your requests.

I note that Paul returns to his earlier theme of thanksgiving, or rejoicing. How can we be thankful even as we recount our troubles at the throne?

Because God hears, and he responds, and always in a way that is good and wise, wiser even than the “solutions” we can suggest to him. Beyond all that we can ask or think.

Paul follows his imperative with a promise. If we’ll do what he says, then God will bring peace to our troubled hearts—peace, he says, that surpasses all understanding.

I used to think that that meant that it’s so wonderful that we can’t understand it. But I don’t think that’s it. It surpasses understanding; when our understanding has taken us as far as it can, and it runs out of gas, the peace of God takes over and keeps us going, as far as we need to go. We find that we don’t need to know it all, to understand everything that God is doing. We know him, we trust him, and we just keep going.

Paul adds one last thought. This peace he says, is not passive; it’s active. And the verb he chooses is instructive: it guards our hearts and minds. You know, that place where the anxiety comes from? The wellspring of all our fears? The peace of God stands as a sentinel at the door, muscular and armed, and it denies entry to the dangerous stuff.

So we have a choice.

We can give in to the anxiety, trying to work things out for ourselves, despite the fact that there are all kinds of things that we don’t know and can’t do.

Or we can trust the sentinel standing outside the door of our hearts, as we work diligently and wisely during the day and sleep well at night.

That shouldn’t be a difficult decision.

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On Discipline, Part 2: Action 

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Part 1: Perspective 

Here in Philippians 4, we’re surveying a list of areas that we ought to discipline as we live out our faith in Christ. In the previous post, we noted that we should discipline our perspective to be joyful, rejoicing in whatever comes our way (Php 4.4). We turn now to the second Item in Paul’s list. 

 Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand (Php 4.5). 

You may know that the KJV renders the key word “moderation.” There’s great breadth in the various reliable versions: “gentle spirit” (NASB), “graciousness” (CSB), “gentleness” (NIV). The standard Greek lexicon (BDAG) suggests “yielding, gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant.” I think we get the idea. There seems to be general idea of others-centeredness, of unselfishness, of lesser concern with one’s own rights than for the rights or needs—or even desires—of others. 

Paul says this characteristic of ours should “be known to everyone.” How does that happen? Well, practically speaking, it can happen only when this is our default—whatever we do, in whatever circumstances, with whatever kinds of people, we’re gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant. This is just the way we always act. 

That’s a tough order. It’s easy for most of us to be kind and cordial with people we like, or those who are first kind to us. But the situation is very different when someone is rude, or hostile, or childish, or self-centered. It is not my inclination, or yours, to be kind or courteous in those situations. 

How often do we see that kind of spirit in operation in our culture? How often, rather, do we see some people mocking those they disagree with—“libtards” or “snowflakes” or “RINOs” or “MAGAs”? How often do we ourselves engage in that kind of mocking and ridicule? 

Oh, but in my case it’s justified, you see, because that idiot deserved it, because he was rude to me first, or he’s a tool of the deep state, or he’s a threat to democracy. Or he’s just stupid.

Oh, no, my friend. Let your gentle default mode of action be known to everyone. There are no riders or qualifiers there. 

Let me suggest that our current polarized culture presents us with a rare opportunity to have our calm, gentle, kindness stand out from the angry, pugilistic, chaotic background of polarization and rage. When everyone is running to and fro, the one who’s sitting calmly amidst the chaos reading a book stands out; he’s impossible to miss. And in our culture the simplest act of kindness, the slightest evidence of care and attention, screams louder than all the surrounding noise. 

What a way to make a difference. What a way to be an ambassador. 

Paul’s seals the importance of this discipline with a terse observation: “The Lord is near.” 

To what is he referring here? 

The word near here is a common word, one that can refer to either time or space. 

  • Is he saying that the Lord is spatially near, as in omnipresent? “O be careful little mouth what you say”? 
  • Or that he is temporally near: coming back soon? “O, can we say we are ready, brother”? 

In his epistles Paul uses the word in both senses (Ep 2.13; Ro 13.11). In Jesus’ teaching he tends to use the word temporally, mostly because he’s frequently teaching about the nearness of his Coming. But when he says, “The Kingdom of God is at hand,” is it possible that he means to imply both? 

I don’t see a reason to restrict the word here to either sense; either or both can serve as motivation for us to do better at this.  

  • The Lord is indeed near us, both as a deterrent to sin and as a source of power for victory. In ourselves we cannot live this way consistently, but our God is near to us. 
  • The Lord is indeed coming soon, to deliver us from all the frustrations that so vex us now. That means that as vexing as these confrontations are, they are temporary; and knowing that can relieve us of much of the pressure to collapse. 

Live out grace, kindness, courtesy. By default. To everybody—especially to the really challenging everybodies. 

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On Discipline, Part 1: Perspective 

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No, I’m not referring to child-rearing, but to how we discipline ourselves. It’s a truism that if you aim at nothing, you’ll certainly hit it. Pretty much everybody understands that you have to set goals, and then persist in pursuing them, in order to accomplish anything worthwhile. 

There’s a whole industry of advisors, people who are happy to coach you on making the best of life—whether on the secular side or on the spiritual. Reading these works discerningly and thoughtfully can be highly profitable. 

More reliably, though, the Scripture addresses this topic extensively. A series of blog posts is not the place for a comprehensive survey of the biblical theology of personal discipline, but it’s reasonable to focus on a single passage that concentrates on the idea. 

I find such a passage in Philippians 4. It’s a concise presentation, and a familiar one; many Christians have memorized the passage, or at least parts of it. In verses 4-9, I find a list of five aspects of our lifestyle—what the King James translators called “conversation”—that we ought to discipline in certain ways. Lord willing, I’ll devote a post to each of the five. 

The section opens with Paul’s goal for his (and our) perspective: 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice (Php 4.4). 

Our view of things, he says, should be consistently joyful. 

Several things to note about that. 

First, this is Paul writing. He has not had an easy life; as he has already noted in this short epistle, he has sacrificed early professional success to follow Jesus (Php 3.4-11), and a few years earlier he has listed for the church in Corinth a litany of hardship (2Co 11.23-29). Even as he writes these words, he is under house arrest in Rome, waiting for a hearing before Caesar that threatens capital punishment. He is not speaking platitudes. 

Second, he is writing to Philippi, a church founded out of a night in prison, an earthquake, and government opposition (Ac 16.13-40). He is about to say that this church has already given sacrificially to support his ministry from a distance (Php 4.16). There is nothing flippant or casual about what he is asking them to do. 

Rejoice, he says. No, I really mean it, he repeats. 

And furthermore, rejoice all the time. 

Rejoice in the good times; rejoice in the bad. Rejoice in success; rejoice in failure. 

Rejoice in house arrest. Rejoice in the inner prison. 

Interestingly, Paul lives that out. He has already written here that his arrest has yielded good things (Php 1.12-14), and he will go on to say that there are now saints in Caesar’s household (Php 4.22)—though we don’t know whether they became saints as a direct result of his appeal to Caesar. 

Now for the fifty-dollar question—how does he do it? How does Paul rejoice in the midst of suffering and injustice greater than you (probably) or I have ever experienced? And by extension, how are we to “rejoice … always”? 

The ellipsis provides the answer: “rejoice in the Lord always.” 

There’s a lot packed into that tiny prepositional phrase. 

What does it mean to “rejoice in the Lord”? 

At its purest, it means simply to rejoice in God himself—who he is, and what he does. Meditation on him brings great delight. 

But God knows that we are dust, and he understands that we are consistently motivated by self-interest. He graciously works benefits to us, in which we can then rejoice. The blessings of salvation are profitable topics for meditation, as are answers to prayer. (Sidebar: if you don’t pray much, or at all, you’re depriving yourself of the joy that comes from seeing prayers answered.) The confidence that comes from following his will, even through valleys (Ps 23.4), is reason to rejoice. It’s a great gift to know that, really, everything’s going to be OK, and the hard times will eventuate in great good. 

So our first step of discipline, according to this passage, is in our perspective: we discipline ourselves to see all things as causes for rejoicing. 

This is life-changing. 

More next time. 

Photo by Dave Lowe on Unsplash

On Magic

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I find that a surprising number of professing Christians think in magical terms. 

Let me explain what I mean by that. 

I’m not talking about “stage magic,” where somebody pulls a quarter out of a kid’s ear or a rabbit out of a hat. Those folks are in the entertainment business, and everybody knows that. 

No, I’m talking about real magic, witchcraft, where somebody casts a “spell” or a “hex” on an enemy, or where he wears an amulet or charm that will bring him “good luck,” or where the wife of a president consults an astrologer to see what days are auspicious for travel. 

The Bible mentions such practices in several places, and always negatively—examples include 

  • 10 There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, 11 Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer. 12 For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord: and because of these abominations the Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee (Dt 18.10-12). 
  • 27 Daniel answered in the presence of the king, and said, The secret which the king hath demanded cannot the wise men, the astrologers, the magicians, the soothsayers, shew unto the king; 28 But there is a God in heaven that revealeth secrets, and maketh known to the king Nebuchadnezzar what shall be in the latter days (Dan 2.27-28). 
  • And when they had gone through the isle unto Paphos, they found a certain sorcerer, a false prophet, a Jew, whose name was Bar-jesus (Ac 13.6). 
  • 19 Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, 20 Idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, 21 Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God (Ga 5.19-21). 

Why always negative? 

Well, what is magic, in essence? 

It’s an attempt to get the gods to do what you want. 

And that is to turn the universe upside down and inside out. God is not our servant; he is not here to do what we want. We are here to do what he wants. 

If I do this or this or that, God will do what I want. 

That’s, ironically, godless thinking. 

If I have my devotions, I’ll have a better day. 

If I go to church, maybe my prayers will be answered. 

If I tithe, maybe God will make me rich. 

Now, obviously, God tells us to pray, and to include in those prayers—among other things—our requests: 

  • 6 Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. 7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus (Php 4.6-7). 

He even tells us to come boldly: 

  •  Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need (He 4.16). 

But he also cautions us to ask according to his will: 

  • And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us (1J 5.14). 

This isn’t about getting him to do what we want; it’s about aligning our wishes and desires with what he wants. 

And how do we do that? 

  • We make a conscious decision to trust the goodness of his will for us and for those we love. That’s a matter of the heart. 
  • And then we go to the effort of discovering what that will is, by filling our minds with the expressions of his will in the Scripture. That’s a matter of the mind. 
  • And then we choose to seek that will, to ask for it. That’s a matter of the will. 

We need to remember who’s boss. 

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash