Theology – Page 38

How God Speaks, Part 3

December 5, 2019 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

In Part 1 we noted that in biblical times God spoke a lot—as Hebrews 1.1 puts it, in different times, in different ways, to different people. But the same passage also says that with the incarnation there’s come a change; now things are different, and radically different. Part 2 lays out my reasons for saying that.

Some people find that sad. How great would it be to hear Isaiah preach, or David sing, or Moses thunder! And how much greater would it be to hear the Son himself teach, and see him heal, and watch him work! And wouldn’t it be great if God spoke to us, directly, in our heads? Isn’t it sad that we can’t do any of these things today? Don’t we feel a little bit … well, deprived?

No, we’re not deprived, regardless of how we feel. How do I know that? Because it isn’t in God’s character to deprive his people. He sometimes chastens us (Heb 12.6), but he doesn’t hold back from us anything we need (Php 4.19), or anything good (Ps 84.11). Jesus told his disciples that it was better for them that he go away (Jn 16.7). The same book that tells us about this change in the way God speaks also has as its primary point the great superiority of the New Way over the Old.

We may not feel like it’s better not to have prophets among us, but it is.

What’s better about it?

Let’s begin by making the obvious point. God still speaks to us today, but he does so in very specific ways. He speaks through his created works (Ps 19.1; Rom 1.20), but that medium is tainted by sin (Rom 8.22) and therefore unreliable as revelation. He spoke fully and perfectly by revealing himself in the person of his Son, as Hebrews 1.2 says. And as the Son told his disciples, after he left them he would send the Spirit, who would do certain things in and through them—most specifically, he would “bring all things to [their] remembrance” (Jn 14.26) and “guide [them] into all truth” (Jn 16.13). When did he do that? When they wrote the New Testament, completing the Scriptures.

So how does he speak authoritatively today? In the written Word, which is the Spirit-given record of the living Word, the incarnation, “the express image of [God’s] person” (Heb 1.3), “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1.15), the one “in whom dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily” (Col 2.9). And that’s much better than the old way.

How?

Let me suggest three ways; I’m confident there are more.

The Word is objective. It’s written down, for all the world to see. The words are on the page; there’s a permanent record. It’s not a fleeting impression in your mind. There’s no question of whether it’s from God or just the product of your own imagination. It’s there.

The Word is firsthand. The Spirit of God directly guided the biblical authors so that they wrote what he intended (2P 1.21), down to the letter (Mt 5.18). We don’t have to depend on somebody else’s account of a dream he had once.

The Word can’t be faked. About that guy and his dream—how do you know if God really told him that? How do you know he’s not a crook? These days we have a pretty lousy record of discerning the spirits of preachers. Elmer Gantry is not entirely fiction, is he? We’re really good at being duped, because our flesh wants us to be. Jesus calls us sheep for a reason, no?

Back in the late 1970s I went to a healing service in Greenville featuring Ernest Angley. I decided to see what would happen if I asked to be healed. I got there about 10 minutes before show time and headed for the front row on the left side, from where I knew he called up the people he was going to heal. About 10 rows from the front an usher stopped me and asked if he could help. I told him I wanted to be healed. He told me that if God told Brother Angley to heal me, he’d call me out of the crowd regardless of where I was sitting. And he told me to go sit further back.

Which I did, about the middle of the house. And over the next 10 minutes I saw people trickle out, one by one, from behind the curtain and take their seats in the front row on the left. Those were the people he healed.

I don’t really need to tell you what was going on there, do I?

The written Word, my friends. The New Covenant. It’s better. It’s all we need.

Hear it.

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How God Speaks, Part 2

December 2, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

A slight change of plans.

In Part 1 of this series, I said that in Part 2 I’d write about how God speaks today, and how the current way is better than the old way. But in the meantime I’ve gotten some really good questions from a friend, and I’d like to insert a longer-than-usual post here to respond to them.

My friend had three questions—

“Is it possible that the contrast [described in Heb 1.1-2] is not exclusive, but the change is that God didn’t speak through his son in the past (though some would posit he did through Christophanies), and now he has?”
Or could “the focus of the change could have been on salvation–previously presented by prophets and the law, later presented by the incarnation and work of Jesus”?
“Also, what about the many passages predicting prophecy, dreams, and visions as an outpouring of the Holy Spirit? I’m curious how you account for God speaking in those? (Acts 2:33, 10:45; Rom. 5:5)”

Good questions, all.

I’ll observe that this takes us to a full-scale discussion of the disagreement between continuationists and cessationists, which I can’t possibly address sufficiently in a blog post or two. But I hope to lay down the seeds of my thought process enough that they can sprout in your mind if you’d like to seek a harvest in the topic.

So, to be brief, I find the options in the first and second questions above insufficient with regard to all the major disciplines of theology—

Exegetical Theology
- I note that all the major English versions follow the KJV in rendering the main verb here as a perfect tense, “God has spoken,” implying completed action in the past. I also note, however, that the Greek tense is not perfect, but aorist—and the Greek bodies among us know that the aorist usually has little to no temporal significance in Koine; it’s the default tense, the tense you use when you’re not emphasizing tense. Yet all the major English versions render it as perfect. Why is that? I suspect that like me they see the strongly constrastive structure of the passage and conclude that the contrast is between speaking partially through mediators and speaking completely and directly in the divine Son.
- I also note that larger context (the book of Hebrews) is all about the qualitative difference between the Old Covenant and the New—because Jesus is superior as to his person (Heb 1-4) and his work (Heb 5-10). This is all-encompassing and should not be restricted to just a part of God’s plan or providential activity.
Biblical Theology
- The Bible tells many stories, but through them it is telling just one Big Story, or metanarrative—and that story is about Christ as the perfect and complete revelation of the Father. I’ve written on that before, how the Old Testament purposely creates in us a longing for the very offices that Christ perfectly fills—one of which is Prophet.
- Hebrews 1.1-2 is the climax of that larger story—Christ, in permanently uniting the divine nature and the human nature in a single person, unites his people with God. So John tells us that the Son is the “Word” (logos) (Jn 1.1) who perfectly “exegetes” the Father (Jn 1.18). We should not seek to minimize this climax by making it anything less than the center of the story.
Systematic Theology:
- I’ve gotten a little ahead of myself in the previous paragraphs, noting the “person” and “natures” and “work” of the divine Son. Those terms more properly belong to systematic theology.
- And what does Christology tell us? That Christ is perfect and complete in every way, and that he thereby perfectly reveals the Father. I ask, what part of God’s revelation of himself in Christ may we find insufficient? What remains to be said? I’m not trying to sound like the fabled head of the US Patent Office who allegedly suggested in 1889 that the office should be shut down because everything had already been invented. We’re not talking about human inventors here; we’re talking about the Son, one of whose offices is to reveal the Father perfectly. I’d suggest that there are Christological implications of continuationism, at least in the form promoted by most Pentecostals and Charismatics.
Historical Theology
- I think it’s noteworthy that until the 20^th century, every orthodox church leader that I’m aware of agreed that the Canon was closed because special revelation had ceased. The gift of prophecy, and the concomitant gifts of tongues and interpretation of tongues, disappeared from the practice of the church except in a few cases, which were unanimously accompanied by doctrinal deviancies (Montanism, Paulicianism) that rendered those particular practices suspect even to modern continuationists.
Practical Theology
- It’s no secret that the last few decades have seen continuationism move from Pentecostal and Charismatic groups to what we might call mainstream conservative evangelicalism. But that change has come with its own set of inconsistencies. Both John Piper and Wayne Grudem, for example, have had to argue that the very nature of prophecy has changed since biblical times and that modern “prophets” can be mistaken. I would argue that what Grudem has done is to find a modern phenomenon that isn’t prophecy, redefine prophecy so as to call the modern phenomenon prophecy, and then claim that the gift of prophecy therefore continues.

Which brings me to my friend’s third question.

What about Joel’s prediction, cited by Peter at Pentecost, that “in the last days” God would “pour out” his Spirit, and there would be a renewed outbreak of prophesying? I suspect that this passage has played a significant part in the continuationist thinking of Piper, Grudem, and their fellow travelers.

As I’ve noted before, I understand Scripture to say that God does not intend our interpretations of prophetic material to be reliable until the prophecy has been fulfilled, so I don’t think anybody—cessationist or continuationist—can be dogmatic on this point.
Some interpreters (e.g. E. J. Young) think that Joel’s entire prophecy was fulfilled at Pentecost, and others would say it was fulfilled at or before the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70. I don’t find those approaches convincing, especially in light of Joel 2.30-31 // Ac 2.19-21.
So I hold out the possibility that in the runup to the Second Coming, there will be a new outpouring of the prophetic gift.
But as a pretribulationist, I also (tentatively) understand the Bible to teach that the church will have been removed by the time those gifts appear. Maybe I’m wrong about that.

In the meantime, we all should agree that the Scripture is the overriding authority, and that all of our mental impressions must be subordinated to it. We all should further agree that the Scripture we have is sufficient to direct and inform our relationship with God and our service for him in the days he’s given us. And if that is the case, then the expression “the Lord told me” should mean precisely nothing to the hearer.

Tip o’ the hat to my friend, whose insightful questions prompted all this.

Next time, we’ll consider some ramifications.

Part 3

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How God Speaks, Part 1

November 25, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

We’ve all heard people say that God “told them” something.

Most of the time, they’re wrong.

I’m not saying that God can’t interact with our thought processes or, as some folks say, “lay [something] on my heart.” The Spirit who indwells us interacts with us all the time, convicting, teaching, directing, influencing our thinking and our actions.

But that’s very different from saying that God speaks to you, in your head.

I’d like to spend a post or two examining why I hit the off switch when someone tells me that God spoke to him.

As always, to evaluate this claim we have to go to the Scripture—which is replete with cases of God speaking to people.

God speaks all the time—

He speaks throughout the biblical timeline, from the very First Day—“Let there be light!” (Gen 1.3) to the very end of the very last biblical book to be written, 60 or more years after the death of Christ—“Surely I am coming soon!” (Rev 22.20).
He speaks on all sorts of occasions—
- Both formal (in his throne room, Is 6.8) and informal (while Gideon was threshing wheat, Judg 6.14)
- Both happy (the baptism of Jesus, Mt 3.17) and unhappy (Elijah in the wilderness, 1K 19.9)
- Both to encourage (to Paul in prison, Ac 18.10) and to condemn (to the king of Babylon, Isa 14.4-23)
He speaks in all different sorts of ways—
- In one-on-one conversations
  - With Adam (Gen 2.16-17)
  - With Noah (Gen 6.13ff)
  - With Abram, in the door of his tent (Gen 18.20ff)
- To people who are sleeping, in their dreams
  - To Jacob, of the staircase (Gen 28.12ff)
  - To Joseph, of his brothers bowing down to him (Gen 37.5ff)
  - To Pharaoh, of the coming famine (Gen 41.1ff)
  - To Nebuchadnezzar, of the coming kingdoms (Dan 2.1ff)
  - To Joseph the carpenter, of Mary’s pregnancy (Mt 1.20)
- To people who are awake, in visions
  - To Abram, concerning his offspring (Gen 15.1)
  - To the boy Samuel, concerning the death of Eli (1S 3.1-15)
  - To Nathan the prophet, about David’s future son (2S 7.4-17)
  - To Ezekiel, about the judgment and restoration of Judah (Ezk 1.1)
  - To Paul, about heaven (2Co 12.1ff)
- In an audible voice
  - A loud one, from Sinai, to the people of Israel (Ex 19.16-20)
  - A normal one, to Hagar, when she ran away from Sarai (Gen 16.11-13)
  - A quiet one, to Elijah, alone in the wilderness (1K 19.12)
- Through representations of his presence
  - A burning bush (Ex 3.1ff)
  - A pillar of fire (Ex 13.21)
  - A glory cloud—which may have been the same as the pillar of fire (Ex 40.34)
  - Urim and Thummim—whatever they were (Ex 28.30)
  - A whirlwind (Job 38.1ff)
  - An asterism (Mt 2.2)
He speaks to all different sorts of people—
- Prophets, throughout both Testaments
- Wise men, such as Solomon, as in Proverbs
- Rulers, such as Nebuchadnezzar, as noted above
- Ordinary people
  - A little boy sleeping in the Tabernacle (1S 3.2ff)
  - A peasant woman in a nondescript village (Lk 1.26ff)
  - A shepherd on the west side of the desert (Ex 3.1ff)
- And even a donkey! (Num 22.23ff)

So why am I suspicious of people who claim that he has spoken to them today?

Because the same Bible that tells us of all these past revelatory acts of God has also told us that things have changed:

Long ago, at many times and in many ways, God spoke to our fathers by the prophets, ²but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son (Heb 1.1-2).

The writer of Hebrews, whoever she was ( :-) ), first notes what I’ve delineated extensively above: that God has spoken in many times, in many ways, through many different people.

But, the author says, things are different now.

Now God has spoken through his Son.

This passage is structured as a contrast: God’s revelation used to happen a certain way, but it doesn’t happen that way anymore. Today, God has spoken in Christ.

In Part 2, we’ll talk about how we’re supposed to hear today what he has spoken, and I’m going to try to convince you that the new way is better than the old way—by a lot.

See you then.

Part 2 | Part 3

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How Successful People Operate by Biblical Principles, Even If They Don’t Believe It

November 7, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In my work as a college professor I’ve taught a number of courses online, and I’ve designed a few online courses as well. I like the experience.

Because my university has encouraged my professional development in the field, I recently joined several colleagues at a conference addressing online coursework. Just the other day I received a newsletter from the sponsoring organization, and the lead article caught my attention. It’s about characteristics of leaders in rapidly changing fields, of which online education is certainly one.

I was struck by the fact that these characteristics are solidly grounded in biblical principles, even though a great many researchers in the field—most likely a great majority of them—have no commitment whatsoever to the Bible as authoritative.

Here’s the list, with my comments embedded in italics:

Taking
radical responsibility.
You take full responsibility for your life and help others do the same.

This concept is a direct consequence of the image of God in man, which includes dominion. The Bible reminds us that we will be held personally accountable for our exercise of that dominion. Jesus identifies the second great commandment as loving our neighbor as ourselves.

Learning
through curiosity.
You view every opportunity, whether positive or negative, as a time to learn
about yourself and others.

Through general revelation we learn about God by observing the entire cosmos and all that it contains, as well as current and past events and developments, or providence.

Feeling
all feelings.
You commit to experiencing your feelings through to completion.

Our personhood in the image of God includes our emotional makeup. Although our emotions are tainted by sin and thus are not authoritative or reliable, they still reflect God’s image in a limited way and thus are worthy objects of study.

Speaking
candidly.
You commit to speaking the truth and allowing others to do the same.

As God is truth, we are to speak and hear the truth.

Eliminating
gossip.
You commit to ending gossip, as an active and passive participant.

We just talked about that, didn’t we?

Practicing
integrity.
Your personal integrity enables you to meet your commitments and take
responsibility for your actions.

Of course. Living a lie, or hypocrisy, the Scripture roundly condemns, as it violates the character of God.

Generating
appreciation.
You live in a space of appreciation, able to express it and also receive it.

Thankfulness is a key element of proper worship, as demonstrated in the Psalms and often elsewhere. As God receives our thanks, so we should imitate him by receiving the thanks of others.

Excelling
in your zone of genius.
You live in your full magnificence and empower others to as well.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made, and believers are gifted and empowered for service. God has providentially placed us where we can glorify him by accomplishing his will. Despite the fact that this point likely springs from a humanistic mindset, it is still grounded on biblical truth.

Living
a life of play and rest.
You have a life of play, rest, and enjoyment.

As Ecclesiastes notes.

Exploring the opposite. You recognize that your story is simply your story and is as right as the stories of others.

Nope. Not this one. Truth is not relative, and our perceptions are not in fact reality in all cases. There is absolute truth, which springs from outside of us, and we are successful only as we recognize and orient ourselves toward it.

Sourcing approval, control, and security. You know you are the source of the three most basic human needs of approval, control, and security.

Not the primary source, of course. But humans are designed to help and provide for one another, under the guiding hand of their Creator.

Having enough of everything. You are content with what you have.

That’s pretty much a direct quotation of Heb 13.5.

Experiencing the world as an ally. You believe that everyone around you is here to help you learn and grow.

Within the church that is certainly true.

Creating win for all solutions. You spend the time creating a “win” for everyone involved.

In the providence of God for his people, that is exactly the outcome (Gen 50.20).

Being the resolution. You see problems as an invitation for you to create a solution.

Again, in the providence of God, certainly.

The Scripture is clear that all humans are in the image of God (Gen 1.26-27) and that the image persists even in fallen humans (Gen 9.6; Jam 3.9). Everyone has God’s Word written on his heart (Rom 2.15). I think this has at least 2 consequences:

It
demonstrates the power of God’s image, in that it shines through regardless of
the fall, even in people who may well reject the biblical God and his Word
altogether.
It
can strengthen our outreach by providing common ground for conversations about
the basis for agreed truths.

The opportunities are endless.

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How Gossip Ruins Everything

November 4, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Gossip runs deep in our culture. There are TV shows and magazines and websites completely dedicated to talk about what famous person is doing this or that, and we all know the story gets more reads if the news is bad. Nothing gets clicks like a nice juicy scandal. And it doesn’t stop with famous people; if a scandal strikes the ordinary joe, it likely won’t be long until he’s famous too.

This isn’t new; even in the Victorian era there were society columns in the newspaper, and long before that there was a graffito in Rome depicting a crucified man with a donkey’s head and proclaiming that “Alexamenos worships his god.”

Gossip is deeply rooted in our natures. We like to tell stories, and we like to be the one with the latest Information, so everyone will look up to us. My story’s better than yours, you see. I win.

No, actually, you don’t. Nobody does. And here’s why.

All of us who believe are members of a body, the church (1Co 12.13). Just as your finger wants to help your eye when there’s a foreign body in there irritating it—and the finger’s not irritated at all—just so, when one member of the body suffers, the whole body suffers (1Co 12.26).

That’s true in the universal body of Christ; if some Christian does something outstandingly stupid, then the social value of my standing as a believer is going to be reduced, even if I had nothing to do with it. But it’s especially so in the local assembly; if a member of your church goes to prison, his church membership may well be published on the local news, and the reputation of every member of that church is damaged, whether rightfully or not. Perhaps you’ve seen that happen; I have.

So far, I haven’t really been talking about gossip; news reports of a local crime are in the public interest. I’m simply making the point that believers are all connected and interdependent.

So now let’s bring gossip into the picture.

A key purpose of the assembly, the local body, is for believers to gather, look one another in the face, and exercise their gifts on behalf of the others in the assembly. In a healthy church, you’ll have the kind of relationship with a few other members that allows you to share your struggles, to hear of the struggles of others, and to be of help as you are gifted to do so. When a church member is struggling with a particular sin, he’s not designed to struggle alone; he needs brethren to come alongside to pray for and encourage him (Ga 6.1-2)—and perhaps to rebuke and exhort him as well (2Ti 4.2).

Now, suppose you’re struggling with pornography, and you need help, badly. What kind of person are you going to seek help from? Well, obviously, somebody who’s going to keep your confidence.

Somebody who’s not a gossip.

Now, suppose your church is a hotbed of gossip. Every juicy little bit of news spreads like wildfire; everybody knows, but nobody’s going to tell anybody else, except “just this once.”

Who’s going to seek help in an environment like that?

Not me. And not you, either. We’re going to struggle on in silence and desperation, and we’re never going to get the help we need. And consequently, victory will never come, and the whole body spirals downward to defeat, frustration, and collapse.

Gossip kills ministry. It kills the church. It makes a mockery of Christianity.

I came to realize this many years ago when as a young and foolish man I made a disparaging comment to a friend about a mutual acquaintance. He replied that I was destroying opportunities for ministry—because now he knew that I talked out of school, and as a result he would never come to me for help with anything he was struggling with.

He hit me with both barrels, and I will always be grateful to him for it. He changed my way of thinking and consequently, I’m confident, he changed the course of my life and ministry.

You’re not here to promote yourself; you’re here to serve God’s people.

So shut up and serve.

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On Fear

October 31, 2019 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

It’s October 31—the day my Presbyterian friends call Reformation Day, but pretty much everybody else calls Halloween. Some
Christians think it’s OK to celebrate Halloween, and others don’t. I’m not going to enter that discussion in this post, but I do want to use the occasion to do a little biblical investigation.

In our culture Halloween is typically associated with fear—haunted houses, goblins, and so on. I suppose an outside observer would find it odd that we humans like to be scared, as long as we know it’s safe—and for some, even because we know it’s not safe.

More seriously, I see a lot of fear in the world around me, fear that seems to come from every direction. In politics, fear of the other guy winning. In health, fear of this or that environmental concern. In parenting, fear of this or that factor hurting my child. Any number of my newsfeed friends comment on a post with a single word: “Scary!”

I’d like to lay out a theology of fear from a single biblical book.

Deuteronomy is at the heart of Scripture. It’s the climax of the Constitution that God himself drew up for his chosen nation. Scholars have noticed that it’s in a specific legal form common in its day, called a “suzerainty covenant.” It establishes a relationship between an emperor and his people, laying out the terms of the relationship—and this covenant is unusually gracious to the conquered people. It puts the lie to the nonsense about the “angry God of the Old Testament.”

And it talks a lot about fear. This very common Hebrew word appears 39 times in 32 chapters in the book—31 times as a verb, 6 times as an adjective, and twice as a noun. And its usage pattern is very interesting.

Did you know that the book says both that we should fear, and that we shouldn’t?

The difference is in the objects.

Here’s what God’s people shouldn’t fear—

The
wilderness (Dt 1.19; 8.15)
The
Canaanites, with whom they’re about to do battle (Dt 1.21, 29; 3.22; 7.18; 20.1,
3; 31.6), specifically
- The
  king of Bashan (Dt 3.2)
- Occupying
  the land (Dt 31.8)

So there’s no need for us to be afraid of our circumstances, or the people who stand in opposition to us.

Hmm. That’s pretty much everything that we fear, isn’t it?

Don’t be afraid.

Not about politics, not about health, not about the environment, not about people.

Let me anticipate an objection. I’m not suggesting that these things aren’t significant, or that they aren’t important. A nation’s political leadership can make life miserable (Pr 28.15), and disease is so devastating that Jesus was moved to heal it (Mk 1.41), and God has given us responsibility to care for creation (Gn 1.28), and sin causes unimaginable grief to God himself.

But we shouldn’t be afraid. We have a heavenly Father, and he is working his plan, and he cares for us (Lk 12.22-32).

God even told his people that the very people they were afraid of were going to be afraid of them (Dt 2.4, 25; 11.25; 28.10). How about that.

But perhaps surprisingly, we’re not supposed to be fearless.

Here’s what God’s people should fear—

There’s only one entry on that list. But Deuteronomy emphasizes this fact far more than the fact that we shouldn’t fear anything else. It gives us lots of information about fearing God—

How should we fear him?

All our days (Dt 4.10; 6.2; 14.23)
Intergenerationally (Dt 4.10; 6.2; 31.13)
By
- keeping his commandments (Dt 5.5, 29; 6.2, 24;
  8.6; 10.12; 13.4, 11; 17.13, 19; 19.20; 21.21; 28.58; 31.12)
- worshipping him (Dt 6.13)
- swearing by his name (Dt 6.13; 10.20)
- loving him (Dt 10.12)
- serving him (Dt 10.12, 20; 13.4)
- clinging to him (Dt 10.20; 13.4)

Why should we fear him?

Because he is “fearsome” (Dt 7.21; 10.17) and
does “awesome” things (Dt 10.21; 28.58)
Because it results in
- Things being well with us (Dt 5.29; 6.24)
- Prolonged days (Dt 6.2, 24)

My natural tendency is to get all this just exactly backwards. I fear temporary and empty stuff, and I find my heart lacking in fear toward the only one who matters.

But here’s the thing.

Fearing God isn’t like fearing everything else. It’s liberating; it’s beneficial; it’s joyous. It’s what we were designed to do.

It fits.

Oh that they had such a heart as this always,
to fear me and to keep all my commandments,
that it might go well with them and with their descendants forever! (Dt 5.29)

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Does God Repent, or Doesn’t He? Part 3: The Point

October 28, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Question | Part 2: Toward an Answer

If God’s omniscience and immutability rule out a change of mind, then why does the Scripture relate incidents in which he “repents”? I’ve suggested that the biblical authors are using literary devices to demonstrate important points about God—theological points. If you’ll run down the list of those incidents, you should be able to state the point that the author is making in each case—

Genesis 6.6: In the face of God’s grace and mercy in placing mankind into a world where everything he really needs is free, and in freely forgiving his sin, the pervasive evil and rebellion of mankind against God and against other human images of God is so grievous that the all-powerful and all-knowing Creator regrets that he ever made humans. Human evil is astonishingly wicked, and that wickedness is astonishingly hurtful to the Creator.
Exodus 32.14: After God has chosen a specific family to be his own, and has promised them a land in which they can live in perpetuity, and has heard their cries for deliverance from an evil taskmaster, and has brought them safely and miraculously out of bondage and rendered the taskmaster incapable of pursuing them by destroying the mightiest military force on the planet, and after they have sworn to do all that he has asked of them, they have violated their oath and turned on the very source of all the good that they have. This is the Genesis event exponentiated; human evil is astonishingly wicked, and that wickedness is astonishingly hurtful to the Creator—indeed, to their Father. But the core lesson is that in the face of all of this, intercession works. God hears the prayers of his people. He loves them as intensely as their sin grieves him.
Judges 2.18: God is deeply moved by the suffering of his people—so moved that he intervenes repeatedly to stop the pain, knowing that they will repeatedly defy him as soon as the pain stops. God loves his people deeply and faithfully, in ways that they do not love him.
1Samuel 15.11, 35: When the people wanted a king—for all the wrong reasons (1S 8.19-22)—even though God had promised that in his time they would have one (Gn 49.10), God gave them the king they wanted. Yet the king persistently resisted the will of God and the words of his prophet. After a long pattern of disobedience and, frankly, insanity, Saul essentially refuses to lead the people who have asked for his leadership, and God rejects him—as, in fact, he always had. When God’s people insist on their will instead of his, it not only damages them, but it hurts their loving Provider.
2Samuel 24.16: Even when judgment is deserved, a loving God is pained by it, and he will not let it continue beyond hope.
Isaiah 38.5: I think of this one as similar to Abraham’s “sacrifice” of Isaac in Genesis 22. God is not planning for Hezekiah to die: his heir has not yet been born (2Chr 33.1), and God has promised the continuance of the line. Here God is stretching Hezekiah’s faith, giving him—and us—an opportunity for a more intimate look at the love God has for him.
Jonah 3.10: God unfailingly responds to repentance, no matter the intensity and depth of the sin involved—and in this case, despite the fact that he has no covenantal relationship with the ones repenting.
Amos 7.3, 6: See under 2Samuel 24.16. God’s love and empathy for his people is the counterbalance to his justice and the judgment that it requires.

So what do all these verses about God’s repenting teach us?

Two things.

First, he’s wise, and his plans always come to pass. He never loses. We can trust in the ultimate success of his plans. He’s great.

And second, he loves us and listens to us, and he is moved to action on our behalf. Our prayers matter; go ahead and ask. He’s good.

Great. And good.

There is none like him.

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Does God Repent, or Doesn’t He? Part 2: Toward an Answer

October 24, 2019 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: The Question

What do we make of the fact that the Bible says both that God repents and that he doesn’t?

I think the key to what’s going on here comes from the passage about God’s rejection of King Saul. I don’t know whether you noticed this in the previous post, but this event appears in both the list of statements that God doesn’t repent and the list of examples of his repenting.

In other words, the passage says both that God doesn’t repent and that he does.

Now, this should catch our attention. The writer of Samuel directly contradicts himself in the same brief account; 1Sa 15.11 says that God has repented (and verses 23 and 26 repeat the idea with a different verb), while verse 29 says that he doesn’t repent.

Either the writer of Samuel is a moron—or has a moronic editor—or he did this intentionally, meaning he’s up to something, literarily. Which is it?

Well, we can tell from the rest of the book that he’s not a moron. He writes well. (Yes, I’m omitting for the moment the obvious factor of inspiration.)

We have a similar phenomenon over in Proverbs 26.4-5, where Solomon the Wise says that we should not answer a fool according to his folly, and then immediately says that we should.

Is Solomon a moron too? The wisest man who ever lived? Or did someone later entrusted with compiling the wise man’s proverbs not measure up to the job?

Or is something else going on?

I think the situation in Proverbs is clear. Solomon is toying with the idea, rolling the nuances around in his mind, after the manner of wisdom literature. Sometimes you answer a fool; sometimes you don’t. Now, says the wise man, let’s think about which is when.

With that example in mind, I think what’s happening in Samuel is reasonably clear. Saul is so evil that God regrets ever making him king. Out he goes. Reconsider? No. Why? God doesn’t change his mind.

This is a literary device, I would suggest, in a couple of ways. First, it’s irony—God’s changing his mind about Saul’s office, and he won’t reconsider, because he doesn’t change his mind (!). But there’s something much bigger going on here. As in the Proverbs example, in all these passages God is forcing us to keep a couple of competing ideas in our heads at the same time.

Competing Idea #1: God is transcendent, omniscient, and perfect. There is no Plan B, because unlike us he doesn’t need one. He knows the present (Gen 20.6); he knows the future (Is 44.28); he even knows contingencies, or “what would happen if …” (1S 23.10-14).

This makes him sound distant. But that’s not all there is to him.

Competing Idea #2: God is personal; he has a mind, and a will, and emotions. He is moved by our pleas; he is near and loving and caring (Ps 103.13). He is moved to action by our cries for help.

Both of these things are true of the same person. Is this a contradiction?

No, it’s not. It’s a round character.

God is infinite, and our minds are finite. He’s not going to fit into a box the size of our skulls.

Is this a theological problem? Does the atheist have a point?

I don’t think so. Here’s why.

If the atheist is right—if “God” is just a character we have invented—then we would have invented one we could understand and explain. We certainly wouldn’t have invented one who occasionally embarrasses us in front of our friends.

But if there is a God, then by definition he’s infinite. And since we’re not, we would expect that on occasion he would roam beyond the horizon of our understanding. What’s happening here is precisely what we would expect if God is real.

Next time: So what’s the point?—what we learn from all those times he repented.

Part 3: The Point

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Does God Repent, or Doesn’t He? Part 1: The Question

October 21, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In my previous post I meditated a bit on the prophets’ repeated description of God as “one who relents concerning calamity” (Jonah 4.2). And as I noted at the time, that assertion introduces what appears to be a significant theological problem.

The Scripture says repeatedly that God does not repent:

The hired prophet Balaam, forced by the Spirit of God to speak the truth, refuses to curse Israel and blesses them instead—and he gives the reason: God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should repent; has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not make it good? (Num 23.19). If God has said he would bless Israel, then he will, and nothing Balaam can say will change that.
When Samuel tells Saul that God has removed him from the throne of Israel, he locks the door with these words: The Glory of Israel will not lie or change his mind; for he is not a man that he should change his mind (1S 15.29).
Through Ezekiel’s vision of a boiling pot, God promises to make Nebuchadnezzar’s siege of Jerusalem successful—and he adds, I the Lord have spoken; it is coming, and I will act. I will not relent, and I will not pity, and I will not be sorry (Ezk 24.14).
In his last words to Israel before the Great Silence between the Testaments, God promises, I will draw near to you for judgment; … for I the Lord do not change (Mal 3.5-6).

Note that these passages come from both the Law and the Prophets (Former and Latter) in the Hebrew canon. The idea is pervasive. And it continues into the New Testament as well:

Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow (Jam 1.17).

It’s pretty clear that this is part of God’s character; it’s who he is. Oh, perhaps an interpreter could argue that in the Ezekiel passage God is describing just the current situation and not a general tendency, but the other passages make it clear that this is a character trait. God doesn’t change his mind; he doesn’t repent.

But.

In several passages in Jeremiah, he says that he does repent.

If that nation against which I have spoken turns from its evil, I will relent concerning the calamity I planned to bring on it (Jer 18.8).
Perhaps they will listen and everyone will turn from his evil way, that I may repent of the calamity which I am planning to do to them because of the evil of their deeds (Jer 26.3).
Now therefore amend your ways and your deeds and obey the voice of the Lord your God; and the Lord will change His mind about the misfortune which He has pronounced against you (Jer 26.13).
If you will indeed stay in this land, then I will build you up and not tear you down, and I will plant you and not uproot you; for I will relent concerning the calamity that I have inflicted on you (Jer 42.10).

Two more prophetic passages, Joel 2.13 and Jonah 4.2, repeat the idea as part of the series of descriptions of God’s character that we’ve just finished examining here.

And on several occasions God is specifically said to have repented:

When he sent the flood to destroy the life he had created on earth (Gn 6.6)
When Moses talked him out of destroying Israel in the wilderness (Ex 32.14)
Multiple times during the period of the judges (Jdg 2.18)
When King Saul refused to obey him (1S 15.11, 35)
When the Angel of YHWH was massacring the people of Jerusalem after David’s census (2S 24.16; 1Chr 21.15)
When King Hezekiah pled for more years of life (Is 38.5; Jer 26.19)
When Nineveh repented (Jonah 3.10)
In two of Amos’s visions (Am 7.3, 6)

Critics cite these passages as examples of a contradiction in the Bible.

So are they? Does the Scripture contradict itself here?

We’ll do some careful reading and analysis next time. Don’t make any life-changing decisions before then.

Part 2: Toward an Answer | Part 3: The Point

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When You’re Tempted to Hate People, Part 10: Relenting

October 17, 2019 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

As we’ve noted earlier, this list of God’s core attributes is repeated throughout the Old Testament, all the way through the age of the prophets and to the return from Babylon. Interestingly, the prophets add a line to the description: “relenting of evil” (Joel 2.13) or “one who relents concerning calamity” (Jonah 4.2).

As the NASB makes clear in the Jonah passage, the word translated “evil” refers here not to moral evil, but to calamity or disaster. God had warned Israel that if they departed from him, he would send calamity their way (Dt 30.15-20). He warned of specific calamities: drought, famine, war, disease (Dt 28.15ff). And Israel played that script out multiple times.

But when his people repent, God relents. He restores the relationship, despite the offense.

Now, when we talk about God relenting, or repenting, or changing his mind, that raises all kinds of logical and theological questions. I plan to deal with that issue in a future post. For now, let’s just grant that the Scripture uses that kind of language about God, as astonishing as it is.

I’ve heard it said that you shouldn’t forgive people until they repent, because God doesn’t. Fair enough. But there are some further considerations to the point.

Since God is omniscient, he knows whether our repentance is sincere. Can we know that for certain?

No, we can’t. And interestingly, Jesus tells us to forgive people whenever they ask, with no reference to “sincerity” (Mt 18.22)—and frankly, if my brother asked me to forgive him 490 times for the same thing, I’d start to wonder whether he meant it. But Jesus says to forgive him anyway.

And, come to think of it, when we repent, God knows whether we’re going to fail again (and usually, the answer is yes). And he forgives us anyway.

If God, whose plans are perfect, who is never surprised, can forgive and relent of planned disaster, what about us? We’re not omniscient, and our plans aren’t perfect, and we are often surprised. If God can relent, shouldn’t we?

Why not go to your enemy, and offer him your hand, your arms, your friendship? Why not take back the things you said, the threats you made?

Why not make the first move?

__________

The premise of this series is that we ought to treat others—all others—as God has treated us. Mockery, disdain, sarcasm, dismissal, ranting, vilification—God has never done that to us, although we have repeatedly deserved it for the way we’ve treated him.

No, God’s character won’t allow that. Just as he can’t lie, so also he can’t treat us in the ways we so naturally treat people we disagree with, or people we dislike, or people who lie about us or trivialize our concerns.

We need to be like him.

Pick somebody you really dislike—maybe a public figure, maybe a personal acquaintance.

And then think about how God would treat—indeed, has treated—him:

Compassion
Grace
Patience
Loyal love
Faithfulness
Forgiveness
Justice with mercy
Relenting of calamity

And do those things.

And to get really serious, pray that God would do those things for him too.

Maybe, one relationship at a time, we can be agents of peace rather than strife—lights in the world, instead of darkness.

If your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.
If then the light that is in you is darkness, how great is the darkness! (Mt 6.23).

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