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On Turning a Page, Part 5: Obey

June 12, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Obedience | Part 2: Plan | Part 3: Presence | Part 4: Trust

God continues to speak to Joshua, instructing him on how to handle what’s coming.

… being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go (Jos 1.7b).

In the New American Commentary, David M. Howard notes,

“It is striking that God’s instructions here to Joshua are not about military matters, given that Joshua and the Israelites faced many battles ahead. However, the keys to his success were spiritual, directly related to the degree of his obedience to God. The keys to Joshua’s success were the same as those for a king: being rooted in God’s word rather than depending upon military might.”

Now, Israel’s military experience was relatively sparse; after the current Israelites’ parents had fought the Amalekites shortly after the Exodus (Ex 17.8ff), Israel had little to no combat experience, so far as we know, until the new generation began its journey north on the east side of the Jordan, eventually defeating the Amorites and Bashon (Nu 21) and then, apparently, the Midianites (Nu 25.16-18). So Howard’s observation is noteworthy; even the aging Joshua’s experience in strategic warfare was apparently limited.

But it was not God’s priority. The Lord could advise him militarily along the way, and he would do so routinely. The first priority, however, was obedience, and that priority continued throughout the military campaign; obedience is a major theme throughout the book. As Joshua told the eastern tribes of Reuben, Gad, and half of Manasseh after the campaign, they had fully obeyed all that Moses laid down initially and all that Joshua later commanded, in keeping their promise to participate fully in the western campaign (Jos 22.1-3). And the author of Joshua observes at the end that Israel served God all the days of Joshua’s life (Jos 24.31).

Now, we know that some Israelites worshiped wrongly at times, most obviously at the golden calf incident (Ex 32) and concerning Baal-Peor (Nu 25). God had predicted that, and a lot more, to Moses (Dt 31.16ff). But God’s assessment of Joshua’s ministry seems to be that in the main, Israel followed Yahweh and not the Canaanite gods.

Obedience matters.

When just one man in Israel disobeyed, the conquest went badly awry. Because of Achan’s sin, Israel was defeated at Ai, and 36 innocent soldiers died, their families thereby deprived of their husbands and fathers (Jos 7.5).

God’s plan, then, was for Israel to do the hard work of taking the land. He would intervene spectacularly on their behalf by opening the Jordan for crossing, as we’ve noted earlier, by collapsing the walls of Jericho (Jos 6), and by lengthening the daylight to give time for human effort to win the battle (Jos 10), but He begins with their obedience.

What about us? We don’t have a land to conquer, but we do have other commands to obey. And we also have advantages that Israel didn’t have:

Christ has obeyed the Law perfectly for us; we are already credited with obedience in Him (2Co 5.21).
The Spirit has written God’s Law on our hearts; with His help, we are inclined to obey (He 10.15-17). “Like Joshua, Christians do not succeed spiritually because they obey God’s Law. Instead, God through Christ enables them to have victory over sin” (Richard S. Hess, Tyndale OT Commentary).

With these extraordinary privileges and powers, let us demonstrate our trust in God’s plan for us by obeying him every day, morning and evening, in good times and bad.

We can do that, with God’s enablement.

Next time, some thoughts on that enablement.

Photo by Nathan McDine on Unsplash

On Turning a Page, Part 3: God Remains with His People

June 5, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Obedience | Part 2: Plan

God has assured Joshua that he has promised Israel the Land and that his plans will be accomplished. But there is in all of us this thread of fear, of doubt. “There’s a plan, but …”

Mike Tyson, former world heavyweight boxing champion, famously said, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

Yes, God has a plan, and he wants the best for us. But is he now just standing on the dock, smiling at and waving to Joshua as Israel sails off into unknown seas?

I speak as a fool.

The Lord has more to say before he sends Joshua and his men into combat:

No man shall be able to stand before you all the days of your life. Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you (Jos 1.5).

God is not Pollyanna; there will be hard times. There will be those who “stand before” the people of Israel. And Joshua knows as well as anyone what they will be like; he surveyed the Land with eleven other men and saw, as they did, that

the people be strong that dwell in the land, and the cities are walled, and very great: and moreover we saw the children of Anak there. ²⁹The Amalekites dwell in the land of the south: and the Hittites, and the Jebusites, and the Amorites, dwell in the mountains: and the Canaanites dwell by the sea, and by the coast of Jordan (Nu 13.28-29).

These words come, of course, from the 10-spy majority, who counseled not even trying. But Joshua (and Caleb) had disagreed, because they believed God’s promises. And now God gives this believer added incentives to obey.

First, they’re going to win.

Nobody will be able to defeat them militarily.

And second—and this is key—God will be with them. He’ll be right there.

Now, I find that interesting. God obviously doesn’t need to “be right there” in order to see and know what’s going on. He doesn’t need to “be right there” to act on Israel’s behalf. He can do all his holy will from his holy hill, from the high and holy place (Is 57.15) where he dwells. Distance is no obstacle to him.

But the transcendent God is also immanent—“with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit” (Is 57.15 again)—because he can be, and because he wants to be. He loves us, and he’s not inclined to engage in bicoastal relationships. If I may say this reverently, he wants to be close; he wants to snuggle.

I think there’s another reason that God makes this promise to his people at this transition point: he knows that they are bolstered, strengthened, by the assurance that he is with them.

Have you ever seen a little child’s face light up when he sees his parents in the audience at the elementary school program? He smiles, and he may even wave. All the decorum flees; he’s just delighted that Mom and Dad are there.

We don’t stay children, but we all have that spirit within us. We feel better when our loved ones make their presence known. And we are similarly bolstered by knowing that God brings his omnipotence to our struggles.

God’s words to Joshua don’t stop there; he notes further that he has proved himself faithful in the past (“as I was with Moses”). We’re also bolstered by having experienced this sort of thing before. As Paul notes (my paraphrase), “Trials bring endurance, and endurance brings experience [of success], and experience brings confidence [in future trials]” (Ro 5.3-4).

He will not “leave” us. The Hebrew word speaks of loosening your grip and letting something fall—like what I do when I fall asleep on the couch while holding the remote.

God doesn’t do that, and he won’t. He’s awake, and he’s present, though he doesn’t really need to be in order to be effective.

We’re gonna be okay.

So what does he ask of us?

Next time.

Photo by Nathan McDine on Unsplash

On Turning a Page, Part 2: There’s a Plan

June 2, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Obedience

God has issued a command to Joshua—one that sounds dangerous. You don’t just wade into a flooding river with all your stuff, and hope for the best. But Joshua, who believed God’s promise to give his people the Land when 10 of the other 11 spies didn’t, believes him now, and he will obey. And, undoubtedly to everyone’s astonishment, the river will stop for them and, metaphorically speaking, motion them to cross.

But they don’t know that yet. God continues his speech to Joshua by telling him what lies ahead.

³Every place that the sole of your foot will tread upon I have given to you, just as I promised to Moses. ⁴From the wilderness and this Lebanon as far as the great river, the river Euphrates, all the land of the Hittites to the Great Sea toward the going down of the sun shall be your territory. 

Now, they do know this. God is simply repeating a past promise (Dt 11.24), the very one that Joshua (and Caleb) believed when the other spies didn’t.

And the people also know—or should know—that God keeps his promises. Back when he had appeared to Moses in the burning bush, he had introduced himself as “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” Why this description, and not another, such as “the Creator of heaven and earth,” or “the infinite, eternal, and unchanging God,” or “the God of wonders”?

I think the reason for his choice of words to Moses is clear. God had made promises to those patriarchs, promises that included a numerous people (already fulfilled in Egypt), a blessing on all peoples through a “seed” (a promise not then fulfilled), and most specifically in view here, a promise of the Land on which Abraham’s sandal had walked.

As Moses stands at the burning bush, that promise has not been fulfilled—but it’s next in line. God is effectively saying, “My people, Abraham’s descendants, are out of the Land, enslaved in Egypt. This must not stand. Go down there, and I will do what it takes for you to lead them Home.”

That’s promise number 2. And, as we all know from reading the rest of Scripture, promise number 3, the universal blessing through Abraham’s “seed,” will be fulfilled when David’s Greater Son, the incarnate God, pays the price for our sins at the cross and opens the gates of salvation to all who will come.

God remembers his promises—for centuries—and he keeps them without fail.

Decades after the burning bush God repeated that promise to Moses, with specifics:

²⁴Every place whereon the soles of your feet shall tread shall be yours: from the wilderness and Lebanon, from the river, the river Euphrates, even unto the uttermost sea shall your coast be (Dt 11.24).

And now God, remembering those specifics, repeats them to Joshua as this newly appointed leader gazes east across the Jordan.

So God assures Joshua that the plan is in place, and the Land will belong to Jacob’s people. In modern parlance, it’s in the bag.

So what of our transitions? We typically don’t have circumstantial specifics as Joshua did, but we do have specific assurances about God’s character—he is faithful, gracious, merciful, good—and about his relationship with us—he loves and cares for us, providing all that we need for spiritual success (which is the most important kind of success) and providing our needs for all the days he has planned for us. And when those days are over, we will be “absent from the body, and … present with the Lord” (2Co 5.8). Further, “we shall be like [Christ], for we shall see him as he is” (1J 3.2).

So. What lies ahead? In this life, the assurance that God is working his good plan and keeping his promises; and in the next, eternity with him.

Sounds like it’s all good.

Now, we know by just looking around that this “all good” includes hard things, things that we would consider “bad.” What about that?

God’s not finished talking to Joshua yet. We’ll look at his further words next time.

Photo by Nathan McDine on Unsplash

On Turning a Page, Part 1: Begin with Obedience

May 29, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I’ve already published a couple of posts on my retirement, one on the why and one on the how. Now I’d like to exegete a biblical passage that I think sheds some light on a major life transition. It has already informed my thinking, and I’m confident that it will inform others facing transitions—retirement, perhaps, or other significant events.

A significant pivot point in the biblical metastory is the move from Deuteronomy to Joshua. That crevasse is of course the end of the Torah, the five books of Moses, and the beginning of what the Jews call the Prophets, specifically the Former Prophets (which, in the main, we Christians call the books of History). It’s also the end of the leadership of Moses, whom we might call the first constitutional ruler of the nation of Israel, and the beginning of the leadership of Joshua, who to this point has been presented primarily as just a servant of, or aide to, Moses, and as one of just two believing spies of the Promised Land.

That means some uncertainties. We’re leaving the familiar, the proved, the era of competence (more or less), and stepping out into the Great Unknown, facing challenges not previously experienced and the hard work of stewarding a new bailiwick and lifestyle.

Sounds to me like retirement. :-)

To this point in the biblical story, God has brought Israel out of slavery in Egypt; preserved them through 40 years of wilderness wandering; led them northward through hostile territory (Edom, Moab) on the east side of the Jordan; and brought them to an encampment at Shittim* in modern Jordan, across the Jordan River from Jericho, poised to enter and conquer the Land. 

 But now Moses is leaving. How on earth can Israel go on without him?

Now, there’s a danger in trying to apply biblical narrative to a current situation. I’m facing a transition, but I’m not Israel, and God has not promised me a specific piece of real estate and the military might to expel the current owners.

But there are similarities. I am one of God’s people, and he has made covenant promises to me as a member of his body, the church, and he is and will be as faithful to those promises as he has ever been, and I am at a point of transition, and Paul tells us that the Old Testament stories were indeed preserved in Scripture as examples for us (1Co 10.11).

So what did God say to Joshua in his time of transition? And what do those words tell us about God and about His plans for us?

God Is Great, and He Is in Charge

He begins by reminding Joshua of the Most Important Thing:

Moses my servant is dead. Now therefore arise, go over this Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the people of Israel (Jos 1.2).

The past, with all its familiarity, was under God’s sovereign direction. But God has given his people the unknown future as well, and he will see that his good will is done. And by implication Joshua and the people of Israel, like Moses, are God’s servants too, and the sensible thing for them to do is to obey him.

So he gives them a command: “Go over this Jordan.”

Now, at this time of year the Jordan was at flood stage, raging with whitewater and overflowing its banks (Jos 3.15b). That’s not something you just amble into, especially when you’re carrying all your stuff in wagons or in your arms.

Retirement doesn’t mean you just quit showing up at work and begin every day by asking, “Hmmm; what do I think I want to do today?” There’s stuff you need to get done—logistical, financial, procedural stuff—and if you don’t, unpleasant things, some of them involving potentially hostile government officials, will happen.

Gotta learn the new stuff and execute it precisely. Or else.

But God had brought Israel through the Red Sea ahead of Pharaoh’s pursuing armies, and he had fed them and preserved their clothing—even their shoes! (Dt 29.5)—through forty years of wilderness wandering, and he was certainly able to get them across this crazy river.

So they obey. They step into the river, and in that instant the flow stops and a path opens for them to cross in safety.

God can do that. He’s in charge.

He’s in charge through our transitions too. Obeying him is safe.

Well, then; what about tomorrow?

We’ll get into that next time.

* Some people find this word embarrassing. I’ll note, first, that in Hebrew it is pronounced “shuh TEEM,” with the emphasis on the last syllable. I’ll also note that the word means “acacia trees”; the acacia is the tree you see on the African savannah all the time. It often leans to one side; I think of it as looking as though someone smacked it hard on the side of the head.

Photo by Nathan McDine on Unsplash

Baccalaureate, Part 3

May 26, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2

But you’re thinking (I hope) that those aren’t our greatest needs. They’re just the temporal ones. We have greater needs: forgiveness, relationship, grace, mercy, peace. Love.

What do you know? They’re all free, too.

Everything you need is free.

God is so, so good.

Yes, bad things do happen. Yes, the world is broken. Suffering is real, and injustice is real, and hate is real.

But God has assured us, and the experience of millions of his people has taught us, that these evil things are not senseless or purposeless or permanent. Paul tells us that

tribulation worketh patience; ⁴And patience, experience; and experience, hope: ⁵And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us (Ro 5.3-5).

Every athlete knows that the workouts—the suffering, if you will—are what strengthens you so that you can win. The coach is not a sadist; he is wise, and he is good. Any of the athletes on BJU’s national championship teams can tell us that.

God is good.

Another poet, the American e e cummings, captured that thought artfully, though surprisingly:

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

God is indeed good.

So where do we go from here? What’s around the corner at this pivotal point in our graduates’ lives?

Back to the child’s simple prayer:

God is great.
God is good.
Let us thank him.

And, I might add, let us trust him, even in a chaotic and, for some, frightful world.

The British lyricist Michael Perry captured this spirit perfectly, I think, in just one stanza in his great hymn “O God Beyond All Praising”:

Then hear, O gracious Savior,
     accept the love we bring,
that we who know your favor
     may serve you as our king;
and whether our tomorrows
     be filled with good or ill,
we’ll triumph through our sorrows
     and rise to bless you still:
to marvel at your beauty
     and glory in your ways,
and make a joyful duty
     our sacrifice of praise.

May it be so for all of us. Let’s pray.

²⁴The Lord bless thee, and keep thee:
²⁵The Lord make his face shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee:
²⁶The Lord lift up his countenance upon thee, and give thee peace (Numbers 6.24-26).

Amen.

Baccalaureate, Part 2

May 22, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

Another, very different perspective:

John Gillespie McGee Jr., a British pilot in WW1, captured this concept more lyrically in his poem High Flight:

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds,—and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of—wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air ….

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or even eagle flew—
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

A century ago another poet, an American college English teacher named Odell Shepard, in one stanza of a poem he called “Whence Cometh My Help,” wrote of the mountains this way:

All the wisdom, all the beauty I have lived for unaware
Came upon me by the rote of highland rills;
I have seen God walking there
In the solemn soundless air
When the morning wakened wonder in the hills.

The greatness of God is vividly apparent all around us, even to those who deny he exists.

God is indeed great. Insuperably great. Unimaginably great.

Years ago there was a commercial for Sherwin Williams paint. The opening shot was of the space shuttle on the launch pad, with a voiceover counting down: “3 … 2 … 1 … ignition!” And those two solid-rocket boosters kick in, and the screen fills with flame and then white smoke, until all you can see is white. And then, the white subtly changes. A door opens away from you, and you’re looking at a typical American bathroom. The voice says, “We developed the paint for the space shuttle. [Door opens.] Chances are, we can handle your bathroom.”

I say this reverently: Chances are the God who “made the stars also” can handle the challenges of your life.

God Is Good

To his protégé Timothy Paul calls God

the living God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy (1Ti 6.17b).

Years ago it occurred to me that everything we really need—literally everything—is free. That’s the way God has arranged the universe.

Don’t believe me? Hear me out.

What do you need more than anything else in the world? If you lack it for 30 seconds, it will be literally all you think about until you get some.

Yep, air. Or more specifically, oxygen.

Free.

We’re sitting at the bottom of an ocean of it—an ocean that God has kindly diluted with nitrogen so you won’t burst into flame at the slightest spark. God’s even given you a scoop on the front of your head so you’ll get your share of the stuff. Some of you he gave a larger scoop to, and you have the gall to be upset with him about that. Shame on you.

What’s the second most necessary thing? Water. They say you can last 3 days without it—some maybe as much as 8 to 10 days under certain conditions. But not long.

Most of the globe is covered with it. And that water mass feeds a delivery system that brings it right to your feet, purified, for free. (Unless you live in the Atacama Desert, which hardly anybody does.) And again, many of us complain when it rains. Especially at the beach.

Granted, I pay a water bill, but I’m not really paying for the water; I’m paying for someone to clean it up and bring it to my house. But the water—it’s free.

What’s next? Food. Grows right out of the ground, from plants that are already there. Free. Again, I pay for my food, but only because I don’t feel like growing it myself. So I pay somebody else to grow and harvest and deliver it; and sometimes I go out to a restaurant and pay somebody else to cook it and bring it to my table. But the food? The food’s free.

And then there’s light, and heat, and all the other physical necessities. All free.

God has been remarkably good to us.

We’ll finish this thought—and the rest of the sermon—in the next post.

Baccalaureate, Part 1

May 19, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

The evening before I retired, I was privileged to be asked to deliver BJU’s Baccalaureate Sermon. I’ll publish the text here, in several parts.

__________

Theological students like to debate the complexities of theology: election and human will; theories and extent of the atonement; Trinity issues; the hypostatic union; the problem of evil.

These are consequential matters, and they should be debated. Such discussions and explorations are an important part of preparing the Christian student for whatever his divine calling may be.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve found my appreciation increasing for the simple things, the basic things—the central things.

And it has occurred to me that these central things are perhaps best summed up in the simple child’s prayer:

God is great;
God is good;
Let us thank him.

The Apostle Paul began his magisterial epistle to the Romans by observing,

The invisible things of him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even his eternal power and godhead; so that they are without excuse (Ro 1.20).

As you graduating students learned in your Bible Doctrines class, this concept is what theologians call “general revelation.” It’s most famously expressed in the opening to Psalm 19:

1 The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament sheweth his handywork.
2 Day unto day uttereth speech,
And night unto night sheweth knowledge.
3 There is no speech nor language,
Where their voice is not heard.
4 Their line is gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world.
In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun,
5 Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,
And rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.
6 His going forth is from the end of the heaven,
And his circuit unto the ends of it:
And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.

This is the concept that Paul used on Mars Hill, in presenting to the Athenians the basic things—the central things.

I’d like to attempt that here this evening.

God Is Great

Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, [that] the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? [there is] no searching of his understanding (Isaiah 40:28).

Evidences of God’s limitless greatness lie all around us in His creation.

The fastest any human has ever traveled is 25,000 mph (Apollo 10’s return from the moon, being accelerated by the earth’s gravity). Now suppose we start at the surface of the sun—some of you are thinking, we shouldn’t do that; it’s way too hot. Well, I’ve solved that problem; we’ll go at night :-)—and we head out toward the planets at that fastest-ever speed. How long will our journey take us?

Mercury: 60 days
Venus: 56 (more) days
Earth: 39 days
Mars: 78 days
Jupiter (assuming we safely navigate the asteroid belt): 567 days
Saturn: 700 days
Uranus: 1500 days
Neptune: 1650 days

We’ve been traveling for a total of 12 years and 9 months, and we’ve just reached the edge of the solar system.

Now, to Boomers like me, we don’t believe that, because we still think Pluto is the outermost planet, because our first-grade teacher, Mrs. Devlin, wouldn’t have lied to us about that.

But at any rate, we find that now we’re headed toward the nearest star, Proxima Centauri, visible from the Southern Hemisphere, just to the left of the Southern Cross. That’ll take us 155,333 years.

Once we get there, we find that we’re on one of the spiral arms of the Milky Way galaxy, pretty far out toward the edge. So we head for the nearest edge of the galaxy.

670 million years.

And we find that there are other galaxies. The closest, Andromeda, will take us 53 billion more years.

I hope you brought a book to read.

The astronomers tell us that there are clusters of galaxies out there. I have no idea how they know that, but we’ll take them at their word. Let’s head for the nearest edge of our galaxy cluster.

2.67 trillion years.

How about the edge of the observed universe?

131 trillion years.

After a while these numbers just become meaningless, don’t they? Fee, fi, fo-fillion, trillion.

And it’s not over; I suspect that when we reach the “edge” of the observed universe, we’ll just see more universe. How much farther? No one knows.

Now, these numbers are actually unrealistically low, for a couple of reasons:

They assume that the planets are all lined up perfectly on one side of the sun, which has never happened and is never likely to happen.
They also ignore a basic tactic of interplanetary travel, which involves the physics of sling-shotting the spacecraft around the heavenly bodies so you don’t have to keep the rocket engines firing constantly. In our example, you couldn’t possibly carry enough fuel to make the journey even to the nearest planet.

But the numbers speak for themselves.

God is great.

Now, I’ve said all that to say this.

Do you know how the Bible recounts God’s creation of what we’ve just described?

Genesis 1.16—“He made the stars also.” Five English words; two in Hebrew.

That’s just a side remark, almost a throwaway line: “Oh, yeah, he did that too.”

God is indeed great.

To be continued.

On Retiring, Part 2: How

May 15, 2025 by Dan Olinger 10 Comments

Part 1: Why

Several weeks ago, when my decision to retire was made official, I posted my reasons for making that decision. Welp, now it’s happened. As of 5 pm last Friday, I am retired and no longer an appointed member of the Bible faculty at BJU.

My colleague in a neighboring office, who teaches Biblical Counseling, had asked a few days earlier how I was doing as The Event approached. I told him that I wasn’t sad or nervous; the word I gave him was “contemplative.” It’s natural to think back over the career—I was a full-time employee for 44 years, and a teaching GA for 5 years before that—and just reminisce a little. It’s good to look back. I’ve found that the contemplation leads to thankfulness, and that the thankfulness leads to peace.

It’s all good.

Even in these first few days I’ve noticed some other changes in my thinking. I thought I’d share how the days have gone and thereby note those changes.

This will be the only issue of my Retirement Journal: take comfort in that. :-)

On Friday Commencement ended a bit before 4pm, about an hour before my official retirement. I walked around the campus for a bit, greeting my former students and their parents, and rejoicing with them over their academic success. Then I turned in my regalia before 5. (As is customary, I kept the tassel—black for PhD—figuring it would make a better ornament than fuzzy dice). Dropped by a reception for the graduating online students. The Official Retirement at 5 happened while I was there, so I didn’t even notice it.

Walked home (I hadn’t driven onto campus, since I knew there wouldn’t be any place to park), greeted my wife, and announced that I was going to change into my “retirement outfit.” Jeans and long-sleeved black tee. In the process I decided to take my watch off; why would I need a watch? There are clocks around the house and in the cars, and there’s always my phone for backup. I used to make fun of my students for not wearing watches—I could twist my left forearm and look at my watch in one-fifth the time it took for them to pull out their phones and look at them—but now, it seems, I’ve adopted their inefficient ways.

I’d been avoiding dairy all week so I wouldn’t be clearing my throat when reading student names during the Commencement ceremony, but now all that was over, so I did the logical thing: I made myself a big ol’ decaf latte with an impressive layer of crema. Very refreshing.

Now what? Let’s do the daily crossword puzzle, plus the one I didn’t have time to get to yesterday.

I’m surprised at how quickly my thinking changed from time management mode—makin’ a list, checkin’ it 9 or 10 times, getting’ it done, all day every day—to a sense of utter flexibility. Still have things to do, and I intend to add things along the way (see Part 1), but now I have pretty much unlimited flexibility as to when I do them. That’s a major mental reset.

Men’s prayer breakfast at church 7.30 Saturday morning. Went, of course, but hung around for further fellowship afterwards, because I had no commitments until after 2pm, so no sense of needing to Finish This Conversation and Get on to the Next Thing. Ask questions, and listen for as long as my brother wants to talk. Drive home, letting people cut in front of me, and obeying the speed limit, and stopping for yellow lights.

This is really, really weird.

I like it.

Sit down with the to-do list and pick 3 priorities for the coming week:

Get the Medicare / Medigap process started. (We have some time on that.)

Condense and pack up the office.

Order a laptop to replace the one I’ll be turning in at the end of the summer; I’ll need some time to set it up, install software that won’t be provided by the university anymore, and transfer stuff over. I intend to keep pretty much all my academic records in electronic form in case issues come up down the road that I need verification for.

“Up down.” That’s funny.

As well as a few end-of-year academic things:

Upload the commentary that my students wrote in Romans class, so they can add it to their portfolios if they want to;

End-of-year program assessments and division report;

Polished versions of a couple of division processes for the Next Guy. Maybe this week, maybe later.

And yeah, faculty are being paid this week after Commencement.

So a plan is in place, and we’ll adjust as needed.

This is fun.

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash

On Silence During Chaos, Part 4: Peace 1

May 8, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Personal | Part 2: Political | Part 3: Panic

I can’t discuss any life application—indeed, any topic at all—without basing my thinking on Scripture. I’ve studied the Scripture professionally all my adult life, and I am more convinced than ever that that was a good choice, informed even in my many ignorant times by the kind providence of God. I’ve written about my reasons for seeing the Scripture as more than an ancient book written by well-meaning but primitive people that has received outsized attention throughout cultural history, so I won’t repeat them here; but they inform all my thinking.

I have a couple of bases in biblical theology for the reticence I’ve been advocating. Maybe two posts can cover them.

The first theological basis is far broader than just politics or social upheaval; it covers literally everything in this world, and everywhere else, throughout all time and forever.

God is in charge.

I have social media connections, whom I care for, who disagree profoundly with that statement. But I’ve never seen them refute it.

Oh, they’ll complain about it—“If there’s a God, why did he …”—but logically that’s not a refutation; it’s just an assertion that they disagree with him.

I’m a lot older than most of them are, and with time I’ve come to recognize the foolish arrogance of a “lifted from the no of all nothing, human merely being” thinking that his disagreement with the Creator of heaven and earth, the covenant-keeping God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, “Yahweh God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth, who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin, yet he will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations” (Ex 34.6-7)—whew—is in some way the basis for argument, application, or wisdom in life.

God is in charge.

Applying that principle to the current topic is fairly straightforward.

First, history makes sense; it’s not a random sequence of events, but the outworking of a plan that leads to a sensible, rational conclusion—and that plan is from the mind of a great and good God.

Now, that fact raises all kinds of questions. Why does God include in his plan things that make people miserable, that harm them in significant ways? I don’t know the answer to that, and neither does anybody else. But I do know God, and I have decades of experience, in both the lab and the field, that he is in fact great and good. And I expect that a great God, who is by definition infinite, will occasionally (!) go beyond the horizon of my understanding. When he does that, I trust him.

I’ve never been disappointed.

It should be said, of course, that we should do what we can to ease suffering. We ought to feed the hungry; we ought to clothe the needy; we ought to shelter the homeless. There are many ways to do that, including any number of organizations that have been doing those things long enough to have some expertise in the field, and whom we ought to support.

(I’ll note as an aside that human nature these days is to assume that the government should be that default organization—and it’s precisely that kind of thinking that has gotten us into the unsustainable economic crisis we’re in now. The current administration claims to have cut $150 billion in spending—whether they actually have or not, I don’t know—but the naked truth is that the spending cuts are going to have to be an order of magnitude larger than that if the nation is going to be on a sustainable footing.)

So. There is a God in heaven, who raises up kings and sets them down again, and who is so much greater than evil that he uses the greatest evil in all the world to accomplish his good plans (see “Crucifixion”). He knows infinitely better than I do, and I trust him.

There’s a second theological basis for my reticence. More on that next time.

Part 5: Peace 2

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash

On Silence During Chaos, Part 3: Panic

May 5, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Personal | Part 2: Political

You didn’t really think we were going to get through the sociopolitical situation in one post, did you?

At the end of the previous post, I noted the almost constant pressure to see the current sociopolitical situation as apocalyptic: if we don’t do something now, everything will be ruined!

A few thoughts about that.

First, one of the basic rules of detecting and preventing fraud is to resist salespeople who are pressuring you to Act Now!, to get this special deal that won’t be available later. This technique happens in sales flyers for grocery stores; it happens at Wal-Mart; it happens at car lots; it happens when people are trying to lure you into a timeshare, or an investment in gold, or some hot stock, or some dark horse at the track.

And it’s bogus. People who listen to those salespeople are going to lose their money, or at least they’re going to get less than they paid for. Fear makes for lousy decisions.

Now, politicians and pundits are salespeople too. And they know, from long experience, that pressure tactics work. As one former advisor to President Obama famously said, “Never let a serious crisis go to waste.” (That was Rahm Emanuel, in 2008.) Sometimes it’s a war; sometimes it’s an economic issue such as inflation or recession. Sometimes it’s an environmental catastrophe, or even just an apparent one, that serves as an opportunity to goose the level of governmental control. But it’s always something.

So Trump is “a danger to democracy.” Biden’s immigration policy—or lack of one—will eventuate in “the last election of our lifetime.” Gotta do something. And the something you gotta do is vote for our guy, or support our policy.

And thus has it ever been. Goldwater was going to bring nuclear death to that little girl picking daisies. Johnson was a warmonger, and Humphrey would bring us back to peace. Then Nixon was the warmonger, and McGovern would bring peace. Then Carter was going to destroy the economy. Then Reagan—oh, boy, did they unload on Reagan. “We begin bombing in five minutes!” Clinton. Bush 43 and the “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq. Obamacare. Trump the First. Biden and the immigration invasion. And now Trump the Second.

One of the benefits of living for a while is that you realize that the news never changes.

And in a day when everybody has a publishing platform, the simplest thing for individual citizens to do is to cooperate by spreading the story or the meme that confirms your bias, that makes the side you want to be on look right and righteous and rigorous.

And here’s the thing. Most of the people who are doing this have no idea what they’re talking about. They think they’re fighting the good fight, but they can’t possibly be sure, at least not in an informed way. And some of them even post—after having done their “research,” which consists of reading an outlet that they have chosen to trust specifically because it tells them what they have already decided to believe—that their friends should “educate themselves.”

So given the likelihood that any given political crisis is being overhyped—perhaps by both sides—I would conclude that waiting for a bit and seeing how things go is the better part of wisdom. Most of the predicted catastrophes never happen.

I have an acquaintance, a Facebook friend, who’s professionally in a position to interact with influential people, including some people whose names you would likely recognize if you follow the news. He’s no fan of Trump. And the other day he posted that the likelihood is that things are going to turn out all right.

But what if it’s a real crisis? What if we really do need to act immediately? In the previous post I noted the importance of being informed, and cool-headed, in a crisis. That means that even if the current situation is in fact a crisis, and not just a manufactured one, those who are acting out of fear or ignorance—that’s most of them—are unlikely to be of any real help, and in fact are likely to do harm.

I don’t want to be one of those people.

If I’m not an expert on tariffs or immigration or law enforcement or military readiness—as, apparently, everyone else on Facebook is—then I’m going to get out of the way and let the people who know what they’re doing take care of the situation. I’m not going to add to the chaos on-scene by shouting uninformed opinions at the people who are actually trying to accomplish something.

Now, if they need help with Koine Greek, or biblical exegesis, or Christian theology, or online teaching, or experiential learning, or poaching an egg, or roasting a Thanksgiving turkey, I’ll be glad to help. But in the meantime I’ll stay in my corner.

Next time: about that Christian theology …

Part 4: Peace 1 | Part 5: Peace 2

Photo by Jonathan Harrison on Unsplash