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

home / about / archive 

Subscribe via Email

Up the Down Staircase, Part 1

October 16, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

On Conscience, Legalism, Loving Your Brother, and the Fear of Man

Ah, that “doubtful things” issue again.

Yep.

There’s been some really good material written on the Christian conscience lately. One of my favorites is this book, written by a long-time missionary and a former student of mine (that’s two people, not one). I think they handle the issue well.

I don’t plan to add anything to, or correct, anything they’ve said. But it occurred to me that an illustration I use for this concept in my teaching might be useful for a general audience. Which you are.

So here goes.

The Bible says that we should never violate our conscience—even when it’s misinformed, and unnecessarily restrictive (1Co 8.7-13). I’ve written on that before, so I won’t go over those concepts again. It also gives Christians a fair amount of liberty to disagree on what kinds of activities they can engage in (1Co 8-10; Ro 14). I think it’s delightful to interact with other believers—the thoughtful ones, anyway—to learn how they think about such matters and how they make their decisions. It’s too bad that many Christians see these disagreements as occasions for combat or for disdain. I think we can all learn a lot by calmly interacting over our disagreements.

When those arguments occur, the word legalism often gets thrown around. Like a hand grenade. The term suffers from a general lack of definition in the current culture; most people use it as a pejorative for behavior that they think is unnecessarily narrow. (It used to mean the belief that your good works will get you to heaven, but I haven’t heard anyone use it that way in a looong time.)

I like to use an illustration when I’m teaching on these matters. It’s one my students understand well, because it’s right down the hall from us.

In the classroom building where I teach, there’s a staircase at the center lobby. The “up” staircase is on the right of the lobby, and the “down” staircase, as you might expect, is on the left. Each side has a sign. Up. Down.

Perfectly clear.

Do you need to follow the signs? Is it a sin to go up the down staircase?

Well, it depends. And while this particular illustration is relatively trivial—the decisions you make while driving your car are exponentially more important—it does provide an opportunity to think through the larger biblical principles in a way that encourages objectivity and discourages raw emotionalism.

Authority

The first principle that presents itself is that of authority. There are behavioral requirements of the students—and of the faculty—and the Scripture does say that we should obey those in authority over us: government (Ro 13), church (He 13.17), family (Ep 6.1), employment (Co 3.22). It doesn’t specify “teachers and administrators in a university setting”—universities didn’t exist in those days—but our culture widely recognizes that educational institutions act in loco parentis, and in any case students at my school, like many others, sign a statement that they will conform to the rules of the institution, so here it becomes a matter of personal integrity.

So in the abstract, you shouldn’t go up the down staircase.

But the Scripture also speaks of “the spirit of the law” and “the letter of the law.” Why have the institutional authorities specified an up and a down staircase?

The intent of the regulation is pretty clear: efficiency. And maybe safety. When the stairs are crowded, everybody benefits if the traffic is flowing in one direction. So go with the flow, dude.

That’s called loving your neighbor.

Years ago, I was in a crowd going down the (down) staircase, and here came a male student, in the opposite direction, head down, engrossed in his phone, completely oblivious to the fact that he was turning the traffic flow chaotic. I put my hand in the middle of his chest, waited for him to look up, and said, “Turn around, go back down, and use the stairs over there.” He looked at me incredulously. “You’re kidding!” “No, I’m not. Love your neighbor. It’s the second most important commandment.”

I have no idea who that student was, or how he is now. But I hope he loves his neighbor.

Well, then, what about the slow times? Any problem with going up the down staircase then?

Given the intent of the regulation, none at all.

But in those cases there are other things to consider.

Next time.

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

Part 2

Filed Under: Ethics, Theology Tagged With: conscience, doubtful things

On Fun, Part 5: Question Everything

October 12, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s Good | Part 2: On Purpose | Part 3: Loving Your Neighbor | Part 4: Down with Slavery

As promised, here are some questions you can ask yourself as you decide how to get your entertainment, pleasure, and relaxation.

Will It Defile Me?

The Psalmist said, “I will set no wicked thing before my eyes” (Ps 101.3).

That’s good advice, even though it’s getting more and more difficult to follow in the present culture.

A little thought experiment.

When I was coming up in the 1960’s, pretty much all conservative Christians agreed that Christians shouldn’t go to movies—even the good ones, because even then you were supporting a corrupt industry. Now, I didn’t grow up in “fundamentalism,” so I’m not talking about the stereotypical “against everything” folks. These are Christians in the broad circle of evangelicalism. Today, of course, the percentages are exactly reversed: pretty much everybody agrees that it’s fine to go to movies. And in the 50 years between those two surveys, the movies have gotten a lot worse.

I promise you that I’m not making any point about going to movies; that’s not my purpose here. My point is that we are no longer repelled by the things that we used to be repelled by. Our consciences have gotten less sensitive, more leathery.

That’s what daily defilement will do to you, without your even being aware that it’s happening.

Will It Make Me Lazy?

Solomon said, “An idle soul shall suffer hunger” (Pr 19.15). And in case you need a New Testament verse to be convinced, Paul urges the Roman church not to be “slothful in business” (Ro 12.11).

Fun is refreshment to empower the return to work; it’s not a lifestyle. We can’t lie in bed all day just because it’s warm and relaxing and easy.

Will It Make Me Discontent?

The writer to the Hebrews urges them to “be content with the things you have” (He 13.5).

Playing the lottery doesn’t do that for you. Going to Vegas doesn’t do that.

That’s pretty obvious.

But some people will face the same result from less obviously tempting things, things that might well be fine for other believers: going on a cruise, following the lifestyles of rich people, even collecting things (again, if it becomes obsessive).

We’re all different, and that’s why it’s a good practice to ask yourself the question.

Will It Help Me Approve Excellence?

Let’s end with a positive one.

Paul urges the Philippians to “approve things that are excellent” (Php 1.10). And at the end of that letter, he famously encourages meditation on “whatever is true, … honorable, … just, … pure, … lovely, … commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise” (Php 4.8).

I note that this well-known list focuses on moral excellence. Nothing wrong with admiring the physical prowess of a top-notch athlete—that Simone Biles is remarkable beyond words—but in the end our most diligent observation and endeavor should involve being really good at being really good.

We ought to educate our moral standards, rather than finding enjoyment and passive relaxation in the degraded. The long view from the latter seat is nowhere you’d like to be.

Eat. Drink. Play. Love. Enjoy it all.

All to the glory of God.

Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash

Filed Under: Culture, Ethics, Theology Tagged With: entertainment, pleasure, rest

On Fun, Part 4: Down with Slavery

October 9, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s Good | Part 2: On Purpose | Part 3: Loving Your Neighbor

There’s another factor to consider in choosing our fun.

It’s actually a principle that applies in a much broader context, involving more than just the entertainment we choose.

It applies to all of life.

Sometimes people have trouble controlling themselves. They get obsessed with a particular thing, and eventually it dominates them.

As I say, it may involve any number of things besides entertainment. Sometimes it’s work. Sometimes it’s study. Sometimes—to someone with “a one-track mind,” it’s literally anything—whatever they happen to be doing at the moment.

Study? Seriously?

Yep.

When I was in seminary, a friend of mine told me that his roommate told him to shut up, because he was busy reading a theology book.

Now, that’s putting the cart before the horse. I wonder if he was reading the section on loving your neighbor.

See what I did there? Neigh-bor? Get it?

What was I writing about?

Oh, yes.

Obsession.

What’s wrong with being really interested in something?

Nothing at all.

The issue isn’t interest: it’s control. Slavery.

Believers have just one Master. He is the master we were designed to serve, and when we try to serve a different one, all kinds of things go haywire. When you put a 15-amp fuse in a 50-amp circuit, you’re going to end up in the dark.

Now, it’s bad enough when the wrong master we choose is our career, or popular acclaim, or wealth.

But it’s even worse, I think, when it’s something so trivial as what we do for fun.

There are obvious examples: drugs, including alcohol, make horrendous masters. Sex, a delightful gift from God, can literally destroy the one who serves it.

But so can a TV show. So can scrolling mindlessly and obsessively and endlessly through a social media feed. So can spending money you don’t have to buy one more rifle or golf club or motorcycle or dress or coin set or gemstone.

How much will be enough?

Just one more. Always just one more.

And the money involved is not the primary issue. Maybe you have plenty of money to spend on such things. But you have no more time than the poorest person in the world—just 24 hours per day, and time is a zero-sum game: time you spend on entertainment is time you’re taking away from something else. Family. Productivity. Sleep. Fellowship. Study of the Word.

I think I’ve made it clear already in this series that you ought to have leisure time. You ought to have fun. But fun is a servant, not a master. You weren’t designed to whittle away your time watching every last episode, or achieving every last level, or playing all 9 million games of Freecell.

So far, just two brief allusions to Scripture in this post.

Let’s get serious.

The Scripture speaks to this idea in both Testaments.

  • The wisest man who ever lived said, “He who loves pleasure will become a poor man” (Pr 21.17). This reminds me of the wag’s comment that a government-run lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math.
  • One of the charges that God levels at Babylon is that she is “a lover of pleasures” (Is 47.8).
  • In his parable of the soils, Jesus described one unproductive soil as “choked by the riches and cares and pleasures of life” (Lk 8.14).
  • Paul tells Timothy that in the last days, people will be “lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God” (2Ti 3.4).

I’d suggest that we approach our fun times with the steely assertion of Paul himself, who said, “All things are lawful for me, but I will not be dominated by anything” (1Co 6.12).

I’d suggest that if some form of entertainment dominates you, then you’re not having as much fun as you could be having.

Have as much fun as you can.

Next time: some questions to ask as you’re making up your mind.

Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash

Part 5: Question Everything

Filed Under: Culture, Ethics, Theology Tagged With: fun, pleasure, rest

On Fun, Part 3: Loving Your Neighbor

October 5, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s Good | Part 2: On Purpose

Jesus told us that the greatest commandment is to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mk 12.30; Lk 10.27). As we saw in the previous post, we can and should do that in the fun times as well as in the serious ones.

But Jesus, unbidden, identified the second greatest commandment as well: love your neighbor as yourself (Mk 12.31; Lk 10.27). Is it possible for us to do that when we’re “just having fun”?

I think the question pretty much answers itself. If God’s goal for me is being like Christ, then that’s his goal for everybody I know as well. And if I can make my rest and pleasure purposeful for myself, then I can make it purposeful for my friends and associates too.

I can think of a couple of ways to do that.

First, Paul tell us to be sure that we “edify” our brothers and sisters in Christ—that is, we build them up, make them stronger. We can spend some time thinking about how we strengthen their spiritual walk through our shared entertainment experiences. For example, what are your friend’s strengths or gifts, and how can your shared leisure experiences reinforce those gifts? Is he a “people person”? Then how about doing things that bring you across the paths of others, where he can instruct, encourage, enjoy? Can he teach friends how to build a campfire, cook on it, set up a tent? I believe there’s an obvious activity that could serve that purpose. What if he’s more solitary, bookish? How about reading a book together? Visiting a historical site? Playing Ticket to Ride or Settlers of Catan?

Now, I know that many readers of this post will think this sounds unbearably dull. Of course. I’m intentionally trying to give examples for the hard cases. You and your friends can certainly come up with options that fit your personalities and interests more specifically. My point is that you should give it all some thought, rather than just “hanging out” unimaginatively.

I said I had a couple of ways. Here’s the flip side. The opposite of building up is tearing down. We also need to be sure that we don’t cause spiritual damage to our friends by the choices we make in having fun. What are the things your friend struggles with spiritually? (You don’t know? Then it’s time to add some substance to your friendship by talking about your spiritual strengths and weaknesses, victories and struggles.) If he has a problem in an environment dominated by bikinis, then you probably shouldn’t be going to the beach. If he’s tempted to isolate himself from others, thereby avoiding the need to love his neighbor, then maybe video games aren’t the wisest choice.

In a similar vein, we need to respect the consciences of our friends. I’ve touched on that before; let me say here that there is no legitimate place for us to encourage friends to do things that they don’t think they should do—even if we’re convinced that they’re mistaken, and their consciences are being unnecessarily strict with them. When you violate your conscience—in effect, tell it to shut up—you’re weakening it for the next time. Do that enough times, and eventually it won’t speak up at all anymore—and that, my friend, is not a place you want to be. And so it’s not a place you want your friends to be either.

So you engage in activities that you can all enjoy, that will increase your effectiveness as followers of Jesus, that will provide you all with the kind of pleasure and relaxation that God wants you to have.

There’s another general consideration I’d like to address, and then some more specific questions we can ask ourselves as we make our choices.

Next time.

Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash

Part 4: Down with Slavery | Part 5: Question Everything

Filed Under: Culture, Ethics, Theology Tagged With: entertainment, pleasure, rest

On Fun, Part 2: On Purpose

October 2, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s Good

We’ve established that fun—which I’ve defined as comprising pleasure and rest—is good, in that God engages in such activities and commends them for his people. But Scripture also indicates that humans have a remarkable propensity for turning good things into bad things, and we can all think of ways that people have entertained themselves that are clearly unacceptable.

So it’s worth trying to derive some simple principles, based in Scripture, to help us evaluate the ways we choose our pleasures and our ways to relax.

Really? Do we have to be that obsessive about how we choose to have fun?

Well, I wouldn’t call it obsessive—that word implies that there’s something mentally unhealthy about it. I’d prefer to call it being thoughtful, in the sense of thinking carefully about how we steward our lives, our bodies, and our time.

The Scripture famously says,

Whether therefore ye eat, or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God (1Co 10.31).

That says, among other things, that

  • We ought to have a purpose for everything in our lives; nothing is purposeless, mindless, or “just entertainment”;
  • That purpose is outside, or beyond, ourselves; we have other things to consider besides just what we want to do.

So yes, we ought to give thought to how we have fun. I don’t apologize for saying that.

Now, to implement this kind of thinking, we need to begin by defining a key term: what does it means to “do all to the glory of God”? What brings him glory?

I would suggest that honoring him should involve caring about his goals, his purposes. And he tells us what his goal for us as his people is:

Them who are the called according to his purpose, … he did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son (Ro 8.28-29).

Without getting distracted by the arguments about predestination, we can safely conclude that God’s purpose or goal for us is that we be like his Son. Our lives should be a process of becoming increasingly like Jesus.

That’s the Prime Directive.

Everything we do should be purposely chosen for that end.

As a simple illustration, if a sitcom makes me laugh at sin, I can’t think to myself, “Oh, lighten up; it’s just a joke!”

In a life patterned after 1 Corinthians 10.31, nothing is ever “just a joke.”

I’m not suggesting that we should be somber and joyless; but I am arguing that our laughter, which should be abundant, should also be purposeful, should be about things that the Son would enjoy sharing with us.

Recently I had dinner with a group gathered in a midwestern city for a conference of Christian educators. There were 11 of us seated around a large table, and over good food we told stories of teaching and other ministry experiences, and we laughed until our sides hurt. Some of us were closer friends than others, but by the end of the evening we all were united by the simple delight of the experience. No observer would have thought that anyone at the table was a stick in the mud.

What a joy such an experience is. What memories it cements in our minds.

What fun.

Now eating and telling tales and laughing is not the only way to have fun. As beings in the image of God, we are creative, and over the centuries people have come up with all sorts of ways to entertain themselves. And in the future there will be many, many more. Delight in such things is a gift from God.

Let’s think for a few posts about how to experience such delights in ways that move us toward being like the Son.

Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash

Part 3: Loving Your Neighbor | Part 4: Down with Slavery | Part 5: Question Everything

Filed Under: Culture, Ethics, Theology Tagged With: fun, pleasure, rest

On Fun, Part 1: It’s Good

September 29, 2023 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

For a radical change of pace, I’d like to spend a few posts thinking about having fun—and specifically, how to have fun and do it right.

I’ll note that my colleague Dr. Brian Hand has written a brief book on the subject, cleverly titled Upright Downtime, which I highly recommend. This series isn’t a summary of that book, but of course our thoughts will overlap in places.

I think the best place to begin is with morals. I’m happy to start with a firm and resolute statement:

Fun is good.

We know that it’s good, because God both practices it himself and endorses it for us.

I’d suggest that what we call “fun” consists of both pleasure, or enjoyment, and rest, or relaxation. God engages in both.

  • God takes pleasure throughout Scripture, in all kinds of things:
    • Uprightness (1Ch 29.17)
    • The prosperity of his servant (Ps 35.27)
    • Those that fear him (Ps 147.11)
    • His Temple (Hag 1.8)
    • Giving his people the kingdom (Lk 12.32)

In just this short list I note that God takes pleasure in not only the service of his servants (uprightness, fear, the Temple) but also in their pleasure (prosperity, the kingdom). More on that in a few sentences.

  • God also rests.
    • He rested from creation on Day 7 (Ge 2.2). Now, I know that God didn’t rest because he was tired; the passage simply means that he stopped his creative work, because it was finished. But he did stop. The biblical picture of God is not of one who is working feverishly—even though he is working constantly, most noticeably in his providential work. But he is not stressed, and he is never feeling the pressure of getting it all done.
    • Jesus, incarnate, rested from his exhausting labors by withdrawing into the wilderness (Lk 5.16). Sometimes he does that to pray, as this verse specifies (see also Mt 14.23); sometimes no specific reason is given (Mt 14.13). If you had three years to save the world, would you be taking days off? Jesus did.

Beyond that, God clearly encourages—even commands—us to take pleasure and rest as well.

  • He makes Eden’s trees “pleasant to the sight, and good for food” (Ge 2.9). Multisensory pleasure! And we know that Adam was encouraged to eat of every tree that was good for food, with the exception of just one (Ge 2.17).
  • David notes that “at [God’s] right hand there are pleasures forevermore” (Ps 16.11); and again, “[The children of men] shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house; And thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasures” (Ps 36.8). This metaphor speaks of an abundance of pleasure, of multiple kinds of pleasure, of swimming in it.
  • All through the Song of Solomon, the kings delights in specifically sexual pleasure. Many commentators have tried to lessen the erotic tone of the book by turning it into a metaphor of God’s love for his church; but I don’t see any evidence in the text that it should be read that way. It was God, after all, who designed sex to be pleasurable.

And rest?

  • The same Jesus who withdraws into the wilderness for rest takes his disciples with him on at least one occasion (Mk 6.31).
  • And then there’s the Sabbath, a central feature of the Law of Moses, where God requires his people to rest every seventh day—on penalty of death (Nu 15.32-36).

Rest is serious business; it’s a basic need for those in the image of God.

But I need to temper the title of this post.

The Scripture is clear that not all fun is good. There is pleasure that is evil, and there is rest that is evil. The God who takes pleasure in many things also reveals that he does not take pleasure in certain other things.

So how do we decide how to have fun?—or more precisely, what kinds of fun to have?

We’ll start on that in the next post.

Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash

Part 2: On Purpose | Part 3: Loving Your Neighbor | Part 4: Down with Slavery | Part 5: Question Everything

Filed Under: Culture, Ethics, Theology Tagged With: fun, pleasure, rest

In My Place, Part 4: How Far?

September 25, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Origins | Part 2: What It Takes | Part 3: Why?

I’m going to appear to be changing the subject in this post, but the connection will be clear soon enough.

We all know the story of Jesus’ baptism. He comes to the spot on the Jordan River where John is baptizing. John is puzzled; he is preaching a baptism of repentance, and scores of people are being baptized, repenting of their sins. When John sees Jesus approaching, he says, “You ought to be baptizing me! Why are you coming to me for baptism?” (Mt 3.14).

Jesus replies, in essence, “I want you to go along with what I’m doing; this is appropriate to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3.15).

Now, what can that possibly mean? How is Jesus “fulfilling all righteousness” by undergoing a baptism of repentance? Especially if he has nothing for which he needs to repent?

I wonder—and I’m being tentative here—I wonder whether this is part of his larger work of representing us—of coming to earth as a man, living among us, and accomplishing for us what we could not accomplish for ourselves.

You know, I repented of my sin decades ago, and I meant it at the time. But then a funny thing happened: I kept on sinning, even though I had repented. Sixty years later, I still sin.

And I’m not the only one in that boat, am I? Isn’t that the experience of every Christian?

We repent, and we mean it. But somehow the sin doesn’t go away. Repeatedly throughout our lives, we yield to sin, despite our best intentions. We go back on our repentance.

We can’t even repent right. We’re really, really lousy at repenting.

So back to my question. Why would Jesus undergo a baptism of repentance, one that he really didn’t need, in order “to fulfill all righteousness”?

Could it be that this is part of his larger plan to be righteous in our place? Could it be that just as he will eventually die for us, he undergoes a baptism of repentance for us? That he repents perfectly in our place, because we are incapable of repenting perfectly for ourselves?

I don’t know whether that’s what he meant by his words to John. But if it was, it would fit perfectly with the larger scope of his earthly ministry.

  • Christ undergoes a baptism of repentance, committing himself perfectly to live free from sin, and that repentance becomes ours when we repent, imperfectly as we do.
  • Christ lives a perfect life, fulfilling the Law completely at every moment, and his righteousness is credited to our account (2Co 5.21).
  • Christ dies an infinite death, experiencing in a few hours the intensely infinite wrath of God, and his death pays fully the infinite debt we owe (He 9.26).

As Adam, our first father, bequeathed his sinfulness to all of his descendants, even to us, thousands of years later (Ro 5.12, 19), even so Christ, the second Adam, bequeathed his perfect repentance and his perfect sinlessness and his infinitely perfect death to us, taking our place.

Every child in Sunday school learns that “Jesus died for my sins.” And while Jesus’ payment of our penalty is delightful news for anyone a gazillion dollars in debt, the simple truth is that at that moment we’re still broke; our spiritual net worth is zero. That’s a lot better than negative gazillion, but it’s still zero.

But then Jesus’ infinite bank account of righteousness, earned through a life of perfect obedience to the Father, is credited to our account, and we go from broke to infinitely wealthy in an instant.

And despite the imperfection of our repentance, and our consequent ongoing struggle with sin, we find that because we are in Christ, the Father sees his Son when he looks at us.

And in his Son he is well, well pleased.

In our place, from beginning to end.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: atonement

In My Place, Part 3: Why?

September 21, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Origins | Part 2: What It Takes

I suppose everyone meditating on the vicarious atonement has eventually asked the question “Why?” Why would God the Son, who is perfectly and eternally satisfied in relationship with the other members of the Godhead, take on human flesh and essentially move to the dump? Why would he endure decades surrounded by sin, facing situations every day that he finds repugnant? Why would he subject himself to death—and a death designed to be as gruesome, agonizing, and painful as possible?

Why?

In the story the Scripture tells, God has reasons for what he does. Those reasons may not always be apparent, but they do exist, and we learn that his reasons are good and right, even when they’re beyond our understanding or even our knowledge. (See under “Job.”)

In the case of the vicarious atonement, God has given us at least three reasons; there may well be more, of course, but we can be certain of as much as he has told us.

The Image

One of the first things we learn in the Scripture is that we humans, and only we humans, are in the image of God. We are not like the ground from which we were fashioned in Adam, nor like the plants, nor like the animals—birds of the air, fish of the sea, or beasts of the field (Ps 8.6-8). We are like God.

We’re not like God nearly as much as some people obviously think they are, but we are like him in significant ways. And that image is so deeply embedded in us that neither Adam’s willful disobedience nor all the accumulated sins of all the ages can eradicate it. Immediately after the Flood, God’s cosmic judgment spurred by the fact that “every imagination of the thoughts of [man’s] heart was only evil continually” (Ge 6.5), God reminds Noah that murder must be capitally punished, not because every human has a right to life, but because every human, even in a sinful age, is in the image of God (Ge 9.6)—and an attack on God’s image calls for the utmost penalty.

Note that the value, if we can use that word, of the human is not inherent to himself; it’s derivative from the value of God himself. It is God who gives his image value.

Well then. How will God respond when his image is in peril? He will rescue it, of course. And he knew he would do that, even before the peril came along.

The Plan

God’s design in creating and then rescuing mankind went far beyond simply multiplying his image around the planet. His design will culminate in the amassing of millions of his images—all who will come—into a throng perfectly united in harmony and grace, unlike anything they have ever seen on earth, and the epitome of what they have desired on earth, people from every kingdom and tribe and language and nation (Re 7.9), undivided by prejudice or suspicion or contempt or any other consequence of sin.

Ironically, this is the professed dream of political leaders across the globe—but one they have never achieved, nor will they. Overcoming divisions ingrained this deeply in the human soul will require the healing of those souls, the defeat of their inherent sinfulness.

Only God can do that. And, as the vicarious atonement makes clear, he considers it worth his infinite sacrifice.

The Heart

We cannot end this list of motives without mentioning the motive closest to God’s heart.

He loves us.

Oh, how he loves us.

He professes his love continually—even in the Hebrew Scripture, what we call the “Old Testament,” where God is allegedly warlike and cruel and demanding. He professes his love in Ezekiel 16, and in Zechariah 3, and in Jeremiah 31, and in the entire books of Deuteronomy and Hosea.

And in the New Testament as well, most famously in John 3.16, but also in John 15 and Romans 5.8 and Ephesians 5.2 and Colossians 3.12 and 2Corinthians 13.11 and throughout John’s first epistle.

It’s everywhere.

He rescued us because he loves us. And that love, in an infinitely perfect marriage, has united us with him forever, God-Man and mankind eternally of one human nature and one in that love.

Think on these things.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Part 4: How Far?

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: atonement

In My Place, Part 2: What It Takes

September 18, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Origins

God’s plan to have the seed of the woman crush the serpent’s head by dying in Adam’s place raises all sorts of questions. The most obvious, I suppose, is how such an arrangement can be just—especially when God himself declares that the sinner must die for his own sin (Ezk 18.4, 20). One atheist famously said that he refused to worship a “god” who would kill his own son for something he didn’t do.

Like most arguments against God’s ways, this one suffers from a significant logical fallacy: it fails to recognize a piece of the data that is central to the question. In this case, the key data point is that the Son died willingly; he volunteered. That single fact changes the whole scenario.

And the Son’s willingness to be the sacrifice is but one of a list of qualifications that identify the substitute.

What would have to be true of whatever person could serve effectively as a substitute for Adam and for every other sinner?

Human

This substitute, whoever he is, must be one of us; he must represent us perfectly and wholly, and only another human being can do that. Paul speaks of him as a second Adam, of whom the first Adam was a figure (Ro 5.14).

But there’s another reason the substitute must be human. The penalty for sin is death, and someone who cannot die cannot pay that penalty. No angel could do it, and God cannot either.

He must be one of us (He 2.14).

Divine

If the penalty for sin is death, then an ordinary man can by his death pay the penalty for only one (other) man. But the substitute for Adam’s offspring must be able to die a death that will pay for millions of people; his death (and life) must be worth far more than any ordinary man’s. Only a death of infinite worth can pay an infinite penalty.

This is a point that Anselm, the church father, made in his classic work Cur Deus Homo? (Why the God-Man?). Only a man can die, and only God can pay an infinite price. The only solution to our problem is the God-Man.

Sinless

One cannot be a substitute for someone else’s sin unless he has no penalty to pay for his own sin. But where will we find a sinless human? There have been only 3 sinless humans in history: Adam and Eve were sinless for a time, but since then all of mankind has been covered by a curtain of sin—until God the Son pulled back that curtain by stepping into human flesh and defeating every temptation throughout every day of his earthly life.

Willing

As we’ve noted, if the substitute is not willing, then the transaction is fundamentally unjust. And an unjust transaction, rather than solving the sin problem, merely adds to it. In assuming a human nature, the Son announces, “I come to do thy will, O God” (Ps 40.6-8; He 10.7, 9). As omniscient, the preincarnate Son knew full well that he would be completely dependent on the Father during his earthly sojourn (Mt 11.27; 24.36; 26.39, 42; Jn 8.28), and he proceeded willingly (Jn 10.17-18; 18.11).

And conversely, God must be willing to accept the sacrifice of the substitute. And we find that not only is he willing, but the plan was his in the first place. In the words of the hymnwriter,

See the Father’s plan unfold
Bringing many sons to glory.

In perhaps the most well-known description of the Son’s vicarious sacrifice, written 800 years before the event, the prophet writes,

The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all (Is 53.6).

And Paul adds his affirmation after the fact:

[The Father] delivered him up for us all (Ro 8.32).

And so we have a legal basis for a substitutionary atonement, as well as a list of qualifications. And we find that the only person qualified to act in that role is the very one who volunteers for it, at infinite cost to himself.

See the destined day arise;
See a willing sacrifice;
Jesus, to redeem our loss
Hangs upon the shameful cross.
Jesus, who but You could bear
Wrath so great and justice fair?
Every pang and bitter throe
Finishing Your life of woe.

Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Lamb of God, for sinners slain!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Jesus Christ, we praise Your name!

(Venantius Honorius Clementianus [AD 6th century], trans Richard Mant)

Next time: Why would he do that? And what has he accomplished?

Photo by James on Unsplash

Part 3: Why? | Part 4: How Far?

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: atonement

In My Place, Part 1: Origins

September 14, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Have you ever felt like your sin was just too much? Like you just can’t stop, even though you’ve made all those promises to God? I have. More recently than you might think.

And I have good news for you today.

In the words of the hymnist P.P. Bliss,

In my place condemned he stood;
Sealed my pardon with his blood!

In the most astonishingly selfless act of all time, God the Son stepped into my sandals, took my sin upon his sinless self, and bore on one dark Friday afternoon the eternal punishment for my sin.

It’s a shame that we’ve gotten used to that.

What I’ve described here is what we call the “vicarious atonement”—the act by which Christ removed the wall of separation between us and God—making us former enemies “at one”—by substituting for us.

It’s a doctrine I’d like to invest a few posts in considering.

I suppose the place to begin is In the Beginning. God created us, in the beginning, as distinct from everything else he created—and he created everything else. Unlike the animals, and certainly the plants and the rocks and rills, he created us in his image (Ge 1.26-27). That made us unique and extraordinary: God makes creatures who look like him in significant ways, and who will reflect that image, and its glory, in their dominion over the earth, their relationships, and their rich and diverse personalities. And they will do that without sin, just like their Creator.

But soon—how soon we do not know, but certainly before 130 years had passed (Ge 5.3)—the creature chose to reject the will and plan of his Creator, and death became, for the moment, king. And the first step in Adam’s dying was his rush to hide from his Creator, his infinitely wise mentor, the one who loved him fully and perfectly and forever (Ge 3.8).

The bond was broken.

God would have been justified in just letting his wayward creature go his own way and face the consequences.

But he came after him, calling his name and asking, “Where are you?”—not because he couldn’t find Adam, but because he wanted Adam to begin the painful process of finding Him. And in that first, awkward conversation, God spoke of his plan to make them one with him again.

The Seed of the Woman would crush the serpent’s head (Ge 3.15).

He doesn’t say anything more about the plan than that, but it is enough for the moment. The ball is rolling.

Adam faces the penalty for his sin, which is death. But the source of death will die under the omnipotent heel of the Seed.

Adam has an Advocate, a Champion, a Hero.

Looking back after all these years, we know that the Seed was not merely a protector; he would be a substitute. He would stand in Adam’s place and die a death deep enough for all who would believe.

Adam and Eve can’t possibly have understood what God was saying that day. Even the phrase “seed of the woman” would have been incomprehensible to them, given that there had never yet been anyone born in the normal way, let alone without the involvement of a father. And that this “seed” would be a person of God himself, in the image of the image? They never would have imagined such a thing.

But over the coming millennia, God will slip the curtain back more and more on his plan, revealing a little here, a little there, until the momentous day when the serpent’s head is crushed by a dying man, a man who stands in Adam’s place, and in ours.

Which raises a question. In a context of sin and judgment, how can there even be a substitute? How does it serve justice to punish an innocent man for a guilty one? How can the transaction take place?

We’ll look into that next time.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Part 2: What It Takes | Part 3: Why? | Part 4: How Far?

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: atonement

  • « Previous Page
  • 1
  • …
  • 8
  • 9
  • 10
  • 11
  • 12
  • …
  • 51
  • Next Page »