Theology

On the Believer’s Dual Citizenship, Part 2: Living for the Eternal King

October 30, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

What is the believer’s mindset as one holding dual citizenship? Can he be a loyal citizen of his earthly national homeland even as he acknowledges the superior authority of his heavenly king?

Earthly Authority Matters

I think he can, for the simple reason that providence exists. God directs the affairs of people and nations—both national affairs and the details of each individual to whom he has given life. Most of my readers were born into citizenship in the USA. Others are loyal to one of a number of homelands in six of the seven continents in the world. (If you’re in Antarctica, please speak up. McMurdo Station, anyone? Anyone?)

Now, we’re not where we are by accident. God put us here. And just to make his intention absolutely clear, he has instructed us in the Scripture, as noted in the previous post, to “be subject unto the higher powers”—by which he means, as the context indicates, political powers (Ro 13.1). He even extends that clarification further when Peter writes to churches in Asia Minor (Turkey) that are suffering persecution from the Roman emperor and subordinate provincial officials:

Submit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake: whether it be to the king, as supreme; ¹⁴Or unto governors, as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of evildoers, and for the praise of them that do well (1P 2.13-14).

So at the outset, we dual citizens are reminded that we’re not playing games here, playing one citizenship against another to our greatest advantage. Given the context of persecution, it’s pretty clear that our personal advantage isn’t a significant consideration in a godly decision.

But Eternity Matters More

Given the brokenness of the world and everyone in it, we should expect that earthly authorities will issue directives that are not in line with God’s will. In fact, the Scripture gives examples of that in both Testaments. Pharaoh ordered the execution of male Israelite babies; Herod ordered the execution of any baby who might turn out to be “King of the Jews”; the Sanhedrin ordered the Apostles not to proclaim Jesus as Messiah.

The responses of God’s people varied. Sometimes God just stepped in and stopped the evil attempt: God warned Joseph in a dream to get out of Bethlehem and migrate to Egypt for a while. In two other cases a key person on scene lied: that would be the Egyptian midwives and Rahab. There’s disagreement about whether these people did the right thing; that’s too long a discussion for this blog post, but for now we can just say that God delivered his people from the evil ruler. (He is sovereign over sinners as well as saints, after all.)

In the case of the Sanhedrin, the situation is clear. Jesus, in his last command to his disciples, had ordered them,

All authority is given unto me in heaven and in earth. ¹⁹Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: ²⁰Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world (Mt 28.18-20).

The Sanhedrin had ordered them to disobey that command.

What part of “all authority” is hard to understand?

Peter’s reply captured the situation perfectly:

Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye. ²⁰For we cannot but speak the things which we have seen and heard (Ac 4.19-20).

So our heavenly king does indeed take precedence over our earthly king. We obey him regardless of contradicting earthly directives.

There’s a reason for that: eternal directives are more important than temporal ones, because eternal consequences are more significant than earthly ones.

In our patriotic duties, then, we make our decisions on the basis of the eternal outcomes. In such matters, obedient believers may disagree; one believer may choose to bake a cake for a gay wedding, and another may refuse. But if they’re obedient, their decision is based on the eternal.

Photo by Global Residence Index on Unsplash

On the Believer’s Dual Citizenship, Part 1: Introduction

October 27, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Christians have always disagreed over their responsibilities to earthly governments. Jesus, of course, declared to Pilate that his kingdom “is not of this world” (Jn 18.36), leading some since to deny, or at least resist, all earthly kingdoms. Most Christians, though, have tried to follow Paul’s mandate that we should respect “the powers that be” (Ro 13.1), but they have disagreed significantly over what exactly that should look like.

Augustine laid the foundation for “two kingdoms” thinking in his classic work The City of God, in which he asserted that all humans are citizens of either the city of God, loving God, or the city of man (Babylon), loving self. In his view, Christians are also citizens of earthly kingdoms, though only temporarily, and should be good citizens, seeking to improve society while realizing that complete success is impossible.

The medieval Roman Catholic Church gave lip service to this idea—Augustine is, after all, one of the great Fathers of the Church—but various popes sought to exert authority over kings to an extent that rendered the latter essentially powerless. The most well-known example of this is when Pope Gregory VII refused to answer the door at the Canossa Castle in northern Italy, leaving Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV standing barefoot outside in the snow for three days (1077).

The Reformers, who for obvious reasons were not inclined to follow slavishly the Roman Catholic example, mostly returned to something close to Augustine‘s position. Calvin taught that Christians should respect and obey the government—not surprising, since for a time in Geneva he essentially was the government, even ordering capital punishment for heretics as he deemed it appropriate.

These days most evangelical Christians make much of the Romans 13 passage, reserving civil disobedience to matters where they view the government as impinging on matters of biblical command and thus personal conscience. They will disagree with one another on precisely when civil disobedience is necessary*, but they will generally agree on the abstract principle.

In some non-Christian minds this “dual citizenship” seems inappropriate. On November 10, 2004, speaking at the University of Chicago the day after that year’s presidential election, humorist Garrison Keillor said, “I’m trying to organize support for a constitutional amendment to deny voting rights to born-again Christians. I feel if your citizenship is in Heaven—like a born again Christian’s is—you should give up your [US] citizenship. Sorry, but this is my new cause. If born again Christians are allowed to vote in this country, then why not Canadians?”

Now, I’m pretty sure Keillor was joking—first, because that’s what he was getting paid to do, and second, because as far as I know he never acted on those words. But it’s easy to see how this doctrine might give pause to a non-Christian or two.

Well. Given that conservative evangelicals seem to have a robust theology of earthly citizenship based on Romans 13 and are (mostly) in agreement as to its broad application, I think it’s worth giving some attention to our other citizenship—what Augustine called “the city of God.”

How do we live for the eternal king?

And how do we demonstrate longing for the eternal city?

Next time.

* In a contemporary example, the US Supreme Court is deciding this year a Christian therapist’s objection to Colorado’s restrictions on “conversion therapy” for homosexual and/or transgender youth. Practicing evangelical licensed therapists in the state disagree over whether their colleagues can abide by the existing state law in good conscience and in obedience to Scripture. Some think the plaintiff’s objection is unnecessary by biblical standards.

Photo by Global Residence Index on Unsplash

On Revival

October 23, 2025 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

There’s a lot of talk about revival these days. National networks are noticing and reporting on a surge of interest in Christianity, particularly among young men on the political right. Many are attributing it to the assassination of Charlie Kirk, with perhaps a reaction against policies hostile to Christian thinking that are widely viewed as “nutty.” The most obvious of these, I suppose, would be the transgender movement, especially policies promoting the participation of biological males in women’s sports and the encouraging of puberty-blocker hormone treatments and surgeries in minors. Many pundits think that young males have just had it up to here with what they see as the fruits of secularism and are turning to Christianity.

Maybe they are. I certainly would like to see that happen. (I’d also like to see a similar surge in that thinking among young females, but it doesn’t appear to be happening.)

But I’ve noticed something about the current discussions of this phenomenon that gives me pause.

The evidences that I’ve seen cited for this revival are all external.

By that I mean things like attendance at Charlie Kirk’s funeral, and increased attendance at church, and Bible sales, and app downloads, and streaming of Christian music. News outlets and podcasters are chattering about these statistical shifts.

Now, these are all good things to one degree or another, but they’re not revival.

I suppose that in order to support that statement, I need to define my terms.

Historically, the term revival has been used of a renewal of dedication to God among Christians. It’s not technically a wave of conversions; that’s evangelism. For our purposes, though, I’m happy to just lump those two phenomena together as a broad move toward Christian thinking, regardless of the subject’s previous religious state.

The little itch that I need to scratch is the apparent confusion between a sociological phenomenon and a genuine experience of Christian conversion or renewal.

The Bible speaks of revival, or conversion, as a work of God’s Spirit in the individual heart. The Spirit convicts someone of his sin; he draws him to himself. As a result, the person repents of that sin and turns to Christ, seeking him and trusting him as the source of forgiveness and spiritual life. He becomes a servant of God, and his priorities are radically reordered.

Maybe that’s happening on a large scale today. I hope so. But the simple fact is that we can’t possibly know that yet. Jesus said that we know his followers by their fruits; and Paul names the fruit of the Spirit as a set of character traits: love, joy, peace, endurance, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, and self-control (Ga 5.22-23).

We see precious little of that these days, on the right or the left. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Now, I really don’t think I’m the curmudgeon here (shades of Andy Rooney), or the stereotypical fundamentalist (“no fun, too much damn, and not enough mental”). I think the body of this blog demonstrates that I’m fundamentally an optimist. But I know from experience that young people get swept up in various emotional causes. I note that a recent study suggests that the transgender movement among young people may be powered as much by peer pressure as genuine sexual dysmorphia.

Wouldn’t it be ironic if the response to Charlie Kirk’s death were in any significant way another example of the same phenomenon?

So what do we do?

To start, we seek to understand accurately what’s happening. Becoming a Republican, or a fan of President Trump, or of Charlie Kirk, is not regeneration. Going to church is not conversion; in fact church is designed to be a gathering of people who are already believers, not a way to become one. Listening to Christian music, especially considering how broadly defined that genre is, may not be evidence of any particular mindset.

Let’s see what’s actually there, and not what we wish for.

And then, we steward the opportunity this social phenomenon represents. We interact with those who show up in our churches, showing them what the Scripture says about regeneration and the Spirit who gives that life, and showing them what the consequent life of sanctification looks like. We challenge the deviancies of professing Christians on both the right and the left. And we do these things in a way that reflects the fruit of the Spirit, bringing grace, mercy, and peace to those we serve.

Photo by Joshua Earle on Unsplash

On the Big Story, Part 3: The Kingdom of God

October 16, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Israel and the Church 

How do Israel and the church fit together? And are there any other stages in the Big Story that God is telling?

What should we make of all this?

Oh, my friend, this is not dusty theology. This has everything to do with today’s news cycle, and more importantly how we live in and respond to it.

The New Testament speaks often of “the kingdom of God.” John the Baptist introduces the term (Mt 3.2), and Jesus presents himself as the fulfillment of John’s prophecy (Mt 4.17; 12.28; 16.28). It’s a major theme of Jesus’ teaching (e.g. Mt 13), and it shows up in the writings of Paul, Peter, John, and James.

So what is it? Well, a kingdom typically involves three elements:

A king, or ruler

A realm, or sphere of authority

A people, or subjects

The kingdom of God, then, might be defined this way:

God reigns in heaven and on earth, over a people he has created and called, for the praise of his glory (Ps 103.19).

That reign has manifested itself persistently through the history of the world and will continue forever:

The cosmos (Gen 1-11): God created it from nothing, and he sovereignly directs it. We literally set our watches by this cosmic direction.

Israel (Gen 12-Mal): This is the kingdom of God as manifested throughout the Old Testament. He originates it in Abram; he constitutes it at Sinai; he appoints its leadership, climaxing in David and Solomon; he sovereignly directs its location in Canaan, then Egypt, then Israel, and even Babylon and Persia.

The church (Acts-Jude): This is the kingdom of God throughout the New Testament and up through today, all the way to the return of Christ. God originates it at Pentecost through the work of his Spirit; he empowers its spread as evidenced in Acts; He sets forth its moral code in the Epistles.

The eschaton (Revelation): “Eschaton” is just a fancy term for the time after Jesus returns; it literally means “the last thing.” At that time God will invade the realm of earth and establish his kingdom (Rev 20). (Here I’m taking the position that the millennial kingdom is visible, earthly, and yet future. Many will disagree with me.) Then he will create a New Heaven and a New Earth (Rev 21-22).

So how does all this affect the way you and I live today and tomorrow?

To begin with, we recognize and take into account the fundamental, universal principle of all existence, which is that God is in charge.

A lot of people don’t like that principle, particularly in the West, where democracy is ingrained into us, and we talk a lot about our “rights.” But I’ll observe that according to the USA’s founding document, we are endowed with those inalienable rights by our Creator; even our democratic republican system begins by recognizing that God is in charge.

Now. How do we think and live under that dominating principle? How do we respond to the evidences of brokenness in our human social and political systems? We manifest God’s rule in multiple ways. Let me suggest just a few and leave you to see how far down that road your own thinking can take you:

We seek to know Him personally.

We obey His will as expressed in the Scripture.

We submit to earthly authorities* because they are under His dominion (Rom 13).

We live trustingly and confidently—optimistically—in a broken world, or at least we’re supposed to, because we know that the Sovereign is wise and good and will bring it all out in a good place.

We seek an eternal kingdom, thereby relatively devaluing the present world. That means we live in grace, peace, and confidence instead of fear, frustration, and anger.

As the people of God, we inhabit our phase of history, of God’s plan, with confidence in the one whom we know intimately, who has all power and exercises it wisely and beneficently. And I’ll observe that as God’s people, we can do the world a lot more good by living that way, in sharp contrast to the spirit of any age, than by acting as frustrated, angry, and afreid as everybody else.

Vive la difference.

* As I’ve noted before, there are exceptions to this rule at times when our authorities are not in fact respecting God’s dominion.

Photo by Carlos Magno on Unsplash

On the Big Story, Part 2: Israel and the Church

October 13, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction

We all know that the Bible consists of two parts, the Old Testament and the New Testament. Within those two divisions, we find that the people of God are organized differently. In the Old Testament, after the primeval period in Genesis 1-11, God begins to establish his people as a family—specifically the family of Abraham, then Isaac, then Jacob, whom he later names Israel. As the family grows, Jacob’s twelve sons become tribes constituting the people of Israel.

In Exodus, God turns this family, this people, into a nation, with defined leadership and explicit laws. And the rest of the Old Testament is the story of this nation—a turbulent story indeed.

These are the people of God.

How do you become part of the people of God? Usually, you’re born into it, but there are exceptions. When the Israelite slaves are delivered from Egypt, some Egyptians come with them; at Jericho, a Canaanite woman—a prostitute!—asks for asylum and is granted it. And the Mosaic Law provides for “strangers”—foreigners—who can be admitted to Israelite citizenship.

But for the most part, the people of God in this stage are genetically determined. And that leads to some, well, imperfections. Throughout Israel’s history, some percentage of Israelites do not believe in Israel’s God. At times, hardly anybody in Israel really belongs to God. The prophets paint a dark. stark picture. But for now, the people of God are defined in terms of ethnicity, of nationality, and, after the Conquest, of geography.

When we come to the New Testament, the whole picture changes. Now the people of God are defined by their belief in God. Ethnicity (Ga 3.28) and nationality (Ro 13) and geography (Mt 28.19-20) become irrelevant; the church begins in Jerusalem and expands throughout Judea, but soon it’s in Samaria, and then it explodes across the Mediterranean Basin. Within a generation or so it’s in India, and soon in China, and once the New World is discovered in the late 15^th century* it immediately takes hold there as well.

Now. How do these two manifestations of “the people of God” relate?

So far in church history there have been two basic answers to that question. There may be other theories in the future, but for now this is what we have.

One approach is that Israel has been replaced by the church. The promises that God made to Israel in that historical context have either been fulfilled already (e.g. the land promise [Gen 15.18] under Solomon) or are now given to the church. That means that modern Israel has no biblical or theological significance; it’s just another country, like Liechtenstein or Malawi. And that means that Christ’s kingdom is not an earthly, political kingdom; it’s either the influence of the church in the world (postmillennialism) or the reign of Christ in the hearts of his people today (amillennialism).

For most of church history, this approach, and specifically amillennialism, has been by far the majority view. Today it’s called “Covenant Theology” and is held by Presbyterians and a few other groups.

Another answer to the question is that Israel and the Church are distinct—perhaps eternally distinct—entities. God has not yet completely fulfilled his promises to Israel—most especially the Land Promise. That means that he will fulfill that promise at some future time, in a political kingdom here on earth. The Temple will be rebuilt; David’s greater son, Christ, will reign from Jerusalem, and that earthly reign will last for a thousand years.

Elements of this view were held in early apostolic times; many of the Apostolic Fathers, for example, held to a literal earthly reign of Christ. But fairly soon a literal reading of prophecy fell out of favor, and the idea of spiritualizing the kingdom became dominant. But in recent centuries—the 19^th and 20^th—this second view, called Dispensationalism, has become popular and even dominant in evangelical Christian culture.

I prefer one of these two views, but I don’t believe that this question should cause rancorous divisions in the body of Christ. I think it helps us to see that we all agree on The Big Story:

God is creating a people for his glory.

He began doing so with a physical illustration (Israel), including an ethnicity and a legal system.

That people demonstrated a need for something beyond the physical arrangement.

Having demonstrated his point, God graciously did what Israel could not.

Incarnate, he kept their Law in their place.

He offered himself as the perfect sacrifice for their sin.

He promised to return as king.

And then he extended this offer of grace to the entire world.

Next time we tie these two entities, and more, into the Really Big Picture.

* Sure, the Vikings. But they made no lasting settlement. And the Native Americans apparently had no history of contact with Christianity before they arrived in North America.

Photo by Carlos Magno on Unsplash

On the Big Story, Part 1: Introduction

October 9, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I think it’s time for something different here on the blog. I often write about theology—by my count 518 (65%) of the 800 (!) posts so far, with 266 (33%) focusing on systematic theology and 25 (3%) on biblical theology. (I’ll confess that my recordkeeping has been imperfect; there’s another project for my retirement.) While I’ve taught academically in a university environment, I’ve determined to keep this blog on a popular level, simple enough that even I can understand it. No theological nerditude here.

But I’d like to get a little more academic in this brief series—still simple and clear, Lord willing, but sounding more like a teacher than an opiner—because I think this topic is worth addressing in this venue.

I’d like to talk about the theology behind The Big Story. It’s often been observed that the Bible, while a book of commandments and morals as well as a collection of stories, most of which we like to tell our children, is at its most basic a Big Story, and a story not so much about Adam and Noah and Abraham and David and Peter and Paul as about God: who he is, what he’s like, and what he’s doing here on earth and beyond for his own purposes. In light of that, it’s worth taking a look at the big picture so we can accurately place all the little ones.

What God is doing in this Big Story is gathering a people for himself—a people to be his sons and daughters (or whatever we’ll call people in eternity, where there is apparently no sexual identity; Mt 22.30), to know him, to love him, to serve him perfectly and successfully, and to glorify him forever. How he’s been doing this is a lesson in wisdom, power, and grace.

He began by including everyone; both of the two original humans were in his image, after his likeness (Ge 1.26-27), and they have multiplied and filled the earth (Ge 1.28). But as we know, those first humans opted out of God’s family, rejecting his plan and going their own way (Ge 3.1-24). Maybe God drew them back to himself later; though there are rare hints, we’re not told whether or when.

Now, God knew this would happen; this is just the beginning of his plan, and one way he is showing his wisdom and goodness in that plan.

Over the next few centuries there are individual people who walk with God. The Scripture mentions Abel, and Enoch, and Noah, and a line of “sons of God” (Gen 6.2; and no, I don’t think those were angels; don’t even get me started on the current fascination with the Nephilim).

But God’s plan goes well beyond just a few individuals. He has in mind an eternal nation, a people for himself.

His first step toward that great goal is to designate an earthly nation, Israel, as his own people. As we know, they proved to be highly erratic and unfaithful, though they were also an avenue for God’s Word and for the Coming King, in whom God permanently embodied himself as a man. And even in this early stage, God makes it clear that Gentiles—proselytes, converts—are welcome in this nation, if they will follow him.

But when the King comes—the first time—God expands the vision. He begins at Jerusalem and Judea, but then expands to Samaria, and to a Roman centurion and his family, and by commission to the ends of the earth. The family is now not one nation, but representatives from every nation—all who will come. And Jesus uses a word the Jews already know well—ekklesia, assembly—to describe this new “nation,” the church.

The Scripture uses a third term for the people of God, one that envelops both Israel and the Church and looks ahead to the eternal state. All of this is “the kingdom of God.”

There’s a lively discussion about these entities and how they relate to one another. I don’t intend to answer all the questions and solve all the problems, because that’s well beyond my ability. But I would like to take a few posts to lay out the land, so to speak, and to identify the questions. I have a position on the questions, but I hope to be reasonably objective.

Next time: Israel and the church. Wish me fair winds and following seas.

Photo by Carlos Magno on Unsplash

Light on the Horizon

September 29, 2025 by Dan Olinger 5 Comments

First, a personal note. Today is the 44^th anniversary of our first date. Happy anniversary, Babe.

Now, the post.

I have a clear memory of an event from when I was just 3 or 4 years old.

My father and I were going someplace in the car—I believe that would have been the yellow 1954 Nash Rambler. I was standing up on the floor behind the front seat. (We weren’t much on child restraint—or anybody restraint—in those days.) It was nighttime, and I got interested in the oncoming headlights. There wasn’t a lot of traffic, but every so often another pair would appear on the horizon. I got to saying, “Here come annuddah one” when that happened.

Dad joined in the game, responding with, “That’s all, Dan, no more.” Of course, that just increased my excitement when the next one appeared. Before long I was jumping up and down and screaming, “HERE COME ANNUDDAH ONE!!!” and laughing hysterically. Dad was laughing enthusiastically too.

I didn’t really understand his joy until I became a Dad myself.

And nearly 70 years later, I remember hanging onto the back of the front seat, and seeing the oncoming headlights, and jumping up and down, and screaming, and hearing my Dad laugh with unmitigated enjoyment.

Dad remembered it too, until the day he died after six years of dementia. We often spoke of it.

Another thought, seemingly unrelated. Bear with me.

My wife and I like to go to Hilton Head Island once a year, sometimes more. I like the fact that now that I’m retired, we can go during the school year, the “off season,” and get lower rates.

When we’re there, one of my favorite activities is to get up an hour or so before sunrise and walk east on the beach for a couple of miles, timing it so I arrive at a certain favorite spot just as the sun peeks the top of his shiny bald head up over the horizon. Typically the beach is empty when I start the walk, but by sunrise there are a dozen or so people at the spot, some doing yoga poses as they face the sun, others reading their Bibles, others just walking around picking up shells.

World War II correspondent Ernie Pyle once wrote, “Dawn is the most perfect part of the day—if you’ve got the nerve to get up and see it” (“Roving Reporter,” The Pittsburgh Press, 7/7/43).

Some people worship the sun; maybe some of the people out on the beach with me fall into that category. But whatever the specifics, we all seem to have this visceral response to the sunrise. It seems meaningful to us, in some way.

Long, long ago the Creator of heaven and earth made a promise. After a global flood of judgment, he said that no such flood would happen again. And then he said,

While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease (Ge 8.22).

Every morning, he said, the sun will rise.

I think that our attraction to sunrise is based in the fact that we, in the image of God, rejoice that he keeps his promises—that he is faithful. Even those who don’t know him respond to that image at the very core of their being.

We were at Hilton Head again this past week. And do you know what I thought each morning as I saw the southeastern sky slowly lighten, and the color display adorn the horizon?

“HERE COME ANUDDAH ONE!”

I didn’t jump up and down and shout and laugh hysterically, because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my time at Hilton Head in a padded room.

But the joy was just as intense—even more so, because this light on the horizon is infinitely more meaningful than those oncoming headlights all those decades ago.

And you know what? That sunrise is always there. It’s not transitory. It’s a permanent halo around the earth, which is rotating underneath it at a thousand miles an hour (at the equator). And thus we see it every morning, and again from the other side every evening.

Before they died, my wife’s parents had a small plaque hanging in their hall bathroom. It featured a nature scene and the words “Ever watchful / ever faithful / everlasting is the Lord.”

Indeed.

Photo by Jason Pischke on Unsplash

How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians, Part 10: Closing Thoughts

September 25, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

So how does God make well-rounded Christians?

Well, like all maturation, it takes time. It involves growth in comprehension, beginning with knowledge that is supplemented by understanding that comes from the means of grace and from experience. It involves growing in one’s knowledge of God and the consequent maturation of a living, personal relationship with him. It involves experiencing hard things that develop endurance and, yet again, more understanding. It involves experiencing victories that teach methods for and confidence in future victories.

The primary element, I would assert, is that personal relationship, that love of God, that makes our confidence in his presence and trustworthiness almost second nature to us, beyond even the ways that we trust our closest human friends. With that relational foundation we walk with him throughout the day; we expect his direction and empowerment; we trust his will, in the light and in the darkness; and we see everything as from his hand, prompted by his wise love, something for which we should be profoundly grateful.

That’s what I want to be when I grow up.

Who is He on yonder tree
Dies in grief and agony?

Who is He who from the grave
Comes to succor, help, and save?

Who is He who from His throne
Rules through all the worlds alone?

’Tis the Lord! oh wondrous story!
’Tis the Lord! the King of glory!
At His feet we humbly fall;
  Crown Him! crown Him, Lord of all!

– Benjamin Russell Hanby

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians, Part 9: Specifics 2

September 22, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

As we noted last time, Paul ends this chapter by listing, in two parts, a number of things for which we should be thankful. The first part lists what God, in the persons of both the Father and the Son, has done in his work of saving us. The second part, which we turn to in this post, is more personal; in the chapter’s final paragraph Paul focuses on what God has done in us as well as for us; and he meditates on how that has affected his life and ministry, and by implication, how it can affect ours as well.

Building on his summary of what God has done for us in the previous paragraph, he now begins to talk about consequences. What difference does it make in us that the Father and the Son have “qualified us to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints in light” (Co 1.12)?

He has reconciled us to God (Co 1.21-22); we’re not his enemies anymore. We don’t have to be afraid.

How has he done that? The Son became human, corporeal, so that he could die “in the body of his flesh” (Co 1.22); and by that death he paid the price for the sins we had committed, which sins had positioned us as God’s enemies. The offended one took the offense on himself and brought reconciliation. We are forgiven.

As a result we are “holy and unblameable and unreproveable in his sight” (Co 1.22). As far as he is concerned, we are in a special class, with nothing to answer for. And this is someone who knows all things perfectly. He knows. But he will never speak of our offenses again.

If you stick with it (Co 1.23). Now, this calls for some explanation. Paul is not saying that we have to stop sinning in order to “stay saved”; he has already said clearly that those who have begun by faith cannot mature through works (Ga 3.3), and he will later tell a protégé that we are not justified by any works of righteousness (Ti 3.5). He is referring here to Jesus’ teaching (Jn 15.1-10) that all who are genuinely in Christ will abide in him; “continuing in the faith” (Co 1.23) is not the cause of our salvation, but evidence that it has happened. We will endure; we will succeed.

Now Paul gets more personal. He begins to express his thankfulness that God has allowed him to have a part in telling the Colossians and others of these great gifts of salvation (Co 1.23-29). He vows to remain faithful to his calling, to continue to spread the word of the gospel so that more may hear.

How is that something for which we can be thankful?

Well, Paul is not unique in his divine calling. Jesus’ last words to his disciples—and by extension to us (Mt 28.19-20)—were the same call that Paul would later receive (Ac 9.15): we are to take the gospel to the ends of the earth.

What a privilege that is! That we should be appointed representatives of the very God who created heaven and earth! That we should be ambassadors of reconciliation, of peace, of joy to those who walk in darkness! That every day we can watch for divine appointments, “chance” meetings, brief interactions that can make an eternal difference!

How can we not thank him?

How can we not face the real and significant challenges of each day with the joy of anticipating God’s presence and power and provision from beginning to end?

How can we not face the darkness and chaos of our culture with the joy of knowing that God has already provided the means of reconciliation and applies it, with infinite power and certain success, to the hearts of those who believe?

Next time: a brief closing thought.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians, Part 8: Specifics 1

September 18, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Paul has spent just under 3½ verses (Co 1.9-12a) summarizing the process by which God matures his people. That’s taken up 7 posts so far in this series. Now, jumping off from his final step of thankfulness, Paul spends almost 17 verses—almost 5 times as many—delineating specific things for which we should be thankful.

This is no afterthought. It’s at the core of what matures us. If we want to grow up, we need to pay thoughtful attention to the list, so we can construct our thinking around it—so it can inform and underlie what we think about everything else.

I note that Paul’s list comes in two sections. In the first (Co 1.12-23), he focuses on what God has done for us in salvation. In the second (Co 1.23-29), he meditates on the great gift God has shown him personally in allowing him to have a role in spreading the story of that salvation.

Much could be written on these verses—and much has been. One of my commentaries has more than 50 pages of dense type exegeting just these 17-18 verses. Given the purpose of this blog, I won’t do that. :-) I’ll summarize.

But here at the beginning I’ll say that these truths should fill our thoughts every day; they should inform our decisions; they should drive our goals. They should be how we live.

So we turn to what God has done for us. Paul focuses first on the Father’s work, and then on that of the Son.

What has the Father done?

who has qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light (Co 1.12). We were by nature not qualified to be saints (“holy ones”) and thus to inherit their standing before God. God has made us qualified. (Paul will explain how he has done that in a bit.)

He rescued us from the domain of darkness, and transferred us to the kingdom of His beloved Son (Co 1.13). We were by nature citizens of a dark kingdom, one ruled by the evil one; and we were not inclined to emigrate. But God made us citizens of an infinitely brighter kingdom, one ruled by his Son, one greater than the Evil One.

Now Paul expands on the person and work of the Son, who has redeemed us.

in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins (Co 1.14). The Son has removed us from under the authority of the Evil One and has made us his own, or redeemed us. We have a new passport, one that gives us entrance to the spiritual universe over which God himself rules. And he has done all this by the simple (!) act of forgiving our sins. That’s what frees us from the Evil One; that’s what “qualifies us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light” (Co 1.12).

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation (Co 1.15). The Son is Lord over all—even the Evil One. I’ve written much more extensively on this passage elsewhere.

For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him (Co 1.16). The Son is the Creator; he is the “Elohim,” “God,” of Genesis 1.

He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together (Co 1.17). He also maintains all that he has created; he is what we call “Providence.”

He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything (Co 1.18). As the one who created us and who redeemed us from the Evil One, he is the head of the body of all believers; he directs our life here on earth, and we represent him here. Further, his resurrection from the dead guarantees our own resurrection in due time.

For it was the Father’s good pleasure for all the fullness to dwell in Him (Co 1.19). The Son is all that the Father is; God is One.

²⁰and through Him to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross; through Him, I say, whether things on earth or things in heaven (Co 1.20). All of this is but a part of something far bigger than you and I. God is reconciling everything—the universe and everything that is not the universe—to himself. In his plan, all will be at peace, ruled justly and cohesively. The chaos will end.

Is there anything here for which we can be thankful? Because of which we can face the pressures and trials of the day?

A day in the light of these truths is a good day indeed.

There’s even more to come. Next time.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash