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 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

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash

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

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash

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. :-)

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

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.

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

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 18: Assurance

May 16, 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

There’s one more thing that happens at the instant you’re converted. It seems to be a result of the Spirit’s taking up residence in us. He gives us assurance—he “bears witness with our spirit that we are the children of God” (Rom 8.16).

We should begin with a clarification. There are really two kinds of confidence. One is objective—for example, you’re safe because you’re strapped in to the roller coaster, and the track has been carefully engineered and was inspected just moments ago, and the operator is trained, and you’re following instructions. You’re safe, whether you feel like it or not. We call that “security.”

But “assurance” is different. It’s subjective; it has to do with how we feel. On the roller coaster, you can be perfectly safe and not feel like it at all—security without assurance. On the other hand, you might be in a different situation and be in great peril but be completely unaware of that fact, like the passengers on the Titanic. Assurance without security.

In salvation, we have security. God has made promises, and he unfailingly keeps them. You can take that to the bank.

I should insert a word here about a theological dispute. As you know, there’s disagreement among Christians about what is often referred to as “eternal security.” Can a Christian “lose” his salvation? Or is it “once saved, always saved”?

I have an opinion on that, and I’m pretty sure I’m right. :-)

But for now I’ll just point out that Arminians, who hold that a genuinely converted person can, under certain circumstances, end up in hell, would not say that they don’t believe in “security.” One Arminian friend of mine says that he’s as secure as the promises of God. But he believes that a Christian can harden his heart against the promptings of the Spirit to the point where the Spirit will give him up to the desires of his own hardened heart. The result would not be a surprise to the Christian, and it’s not something that happens while he’s not paying attention; it’s something he deliberately chooses. So, my friend would say, if you’re concerned about your spiritual state—if you’re worried that you’ve “lost” your salvation—then you obviously have not chosen to harden your heart, so stop worrying. You can reject your salvation, he would say, but you can’t “lose” it.

So regardless of your position on “eternal security”—Arminian or Calvinist—you’re secure. God’s going to keep his promises to you. He’s not going to send anyone to hell who hasn’t chosen to go there.

But what about assurance, the subjective side?

It really comes down to a matter of trust, doesn’t it?

Do you believe God, or don’t you?

When a man comes up to me offering a fancy watch at a very low price, I’m not going to buy it. Why not? It’s a good deal, right? Well, not if it’s a knockoff, a counterfeit, it isn’t. And that depends on whether this guy has any morals or not. And if he’s a stranger, my instinct is going to be to assume the worst. I’m not going to trust him.

But if someone I know well comes to me with a great deal—and I’ve known him for a loooong time, and he’s demonstrated unbroken faithfulness to me, and at great personal sacrifice, in situations that cost him significantly—well, I’m going to trust him.

I trust my wife. It would be wrong not to.

So where are we with God?

He created us, knowing we would disappoint him, and has given us everything we really need for free and in abundance. And when we disappointed him, he pursued us, first by stepping into our world, at permanent and infinite cost, and then, astonishingly, by dying in our place. And then he offered us rescue, freely, despite everything we’ve done.

Is he going to cut you loose?

Don’t be ridiculous. What nonsense.

Today, in your heart, the Spirit of God has taken up residence, and he is constantly whispering in your ear words of love, of faithfulness, of commitment, of assurance.

Listen to him.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

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

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 17: Indwelling

May 13, 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

In addition to Spirit baptism and sealing, there’s a third gift that brings us into more intimate relationship with the Spirit. And this one appears to be the most intimate of all.

He moves in. He takes up residence.

We call that “indwelling.”

In the Old Testament, God speaks often of dwelling with his people. He does so visibly in the Tabernacle, the “tent of meeting,” where the cloud of his glory hovers over the Holy of Holies and where, “between the cherubim” on the covering of the Ark of the Covenant (Ps 99.1), he says that he dwells. When Solomon dedicates the Temple in Jerusalem, the glory cloud appears there, “fill[ing] the house” (2Chr 7.1).

But the presence is not intimate; it speaks more of transcendence than immanence. You have to go to the Tabernacle, or the Temple, to experience it; and even then hardly anybody can actually get to it; the women have to stop approaching first, then the men, and even the priests can go only so far. And the high priest? Just once a year, with lots of special preparation (Lev 16).

Now, sometimes the Spirit would “come upon” people in the Old Testament, but those times were relatively rare, and the people were few—an occasional prophet (2Chr 15.1; Ezek 11.5), or warrior (Judg 3.10; 11.29), who needed an infusion of strength or insight for a specific occasion. David appears to have had what may be the only example of indwelling in the OT; at his anointing, the Spirit “came upon” him “from that day forward” (1Sam 16.13), and after his great sin with Bathsheba, he pleaded with God not to remove his Holy Spirit from him (Ps 51.11). But he was apparently the exception.

No, it’s not intimate.

But it’s also not all there is.

In that era God speaks of a time when real intimacy will come. In the great New Covenant passage of Jeremiah 31, God describes a day when his law will be written not on tables of stone, but on tender hearts—when he will dwell with his people in a new and intimate way. In Ezekiel 37 he describes the dry bones of Judah coming to life again, and rejoining the Northern Kingdom of Israel, “and they will be my people, and I will be their God” (Ezek 37.23).

How does the New Testament understand these prophecies? God gave them to Judah in captivity in Babylon, but they were not completely fulfilled in the return to Jerusalem. There is a new, more complete fulfillment in the church, where God dwells with his people by dwelling inside them, intimately, personally, with direct fellowship (2Co 6.14-20). Jesus says to his disciples that the Spirit has been with them, but one day will be in them (Jn 14.17). This is a new level of intimacy.

It’s remarkable that the Spirit is “at home” with us. We are where he resides.

I love to travel. But pretty much anyone who travels will say that there’s no place like home. It’s a delight, after a long absence, to enter the door of your own house, smell the familiar smells, taste the familiar foods, raid your own refrigerator, sleep in your own bed, step into your own shower—the one with the high water pressure and the hot, hot water.

Home.

Can it be that that’s how the Spirit views us? We are his temple? With all the dust in the corners, cracked windows, drafty rooms, bug infestations, closets full of who knows what? He calls us “home”?

Yes, he does.

He moves in, cleans the place up, and settles in for the long term.

“Aaaaahhhhhhh,” he says. “It’s nice to be home!”

Fixing up the place is a never-ending task. But he stays, and he fixes up the place for as long as we breathe. And when we stop breathing, he …

But wait. I’m getting ahead of myself. We’ll talk about glorification later.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

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

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 15: Spirit Baptism

May 6, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

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

With our conversion, our relationship with all three members of the Godhead is transformed. In adoption, we have a specific relationship with the Father; in union, we have a specific relationship with the Son. And among this pile of gifts there are several that have to do with our specific relationship with the Spirit.

The first of these (and yes, they’re all simultaneous in our experience) is Spirit baptism, by which we are joined with the body of Christ, the church (1Co 12.13).

There’s not a lot of material in the Scripture on this event, and we need to be careful not to ascribe things to it that the Scripture doesn’t (::cough:: like the Wikipedia article ::cough::). It’s predicted a couple of times (once by John the Baptist [Mt 3.11; Mk 1.8; Lk 3.16; Jn 1.33], and once by Jesus, just before the Ascension [Ac 1.5, recalled by Peter in Ac 11.16]). Then there’s the 1 Corinthians verse noted above, and that’s it. In that passage Paul seems to compare it to “being made to drink into one Spirit,” which is an interesting expression, but still doesn’t tell us much.

I conclude, then, that Spirit baptism includes a couple of benefits for us—

  • We’re united with Christ’s body, the church. And that makes sense in the light of our union with Christ.
  • We’re united in some way with the Spirit; we’re “drinking him in.” That seems to imply spiritual power for following and serving Christ.

There are a couple of questions that come up with this event. The first is the terminology itself, which varies among Christians. You’ll see “baptism in the Spirit,” “baptism with the Spirit,” “baptism by the Spirit,” “baptism of the Spirit,” and just “Spirit baptism.” The difference comes from the fact that Greek prepositions, like English ones, can mean a lot of different things. Think about the following statements:

  • I eat ice cream with a spoon.
  • I eat ice cream with hot fudge sauce.
  • I eat ice cream with my wife.
  • I eat ice cream with great joy.

Wait—come back! Get away from that freezer!

I apologize for the distraction.

Each of the listed statements means something very different from the others, but the little word with is doing all the work.

In Greek it’s the same way. We are baptized “en” the Spirit. And that word can speak of agency—“by”—or of instrumentality—“with”—or of sphere—“in.” If you’re baptized “in” the Spirit, then the Spirit is the water in which you’re being immersed (yes, my baptistic bias is showing here, but it doesn’t make much sense to use “in” of pouring or sprinkling). If you’re baptized “by” the Spirit, then the Spirit is the pastor, and he’s putting you in the water.

So which is correct?

I dunno. Most English versions, from the KJV to the NIV, say “by.” I prefer “Spirit baptism,” which admittedly isn’t a literal rendering of the Greek but avoids the ambiguity altogether.

The second question is between some Pentecostals / Charismatics and mainstream Protestants. It’s typical of the former to use the term of a “Pentecostal experience”—“I got the baptism of the Spirit, and I spoke in tongues!” Setting aside for a moment the issue of the genuineness of the experience, the term itself doesn’t match the biblical use; it appears to me that Pentecostalists are confusing Spirit baptism with “filling,” which is a different phenomenon, and which we’ll get to several posts down the road. If Spirit baptism is the event by which we’re placed into the body of Christ (1Co 12.13), and if all believers are members of the body (same verse; note “all”), then by definition every believer has received the baptism, whether he realizes it or not. It’s not a later experience after conversion; it’s simultaneous with it.

So you’re one with the body of Christ, the church. That has all sorts of ramifications. Plunge in.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

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

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