Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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On White Nationalism, Part 4: Assertions of Anglo-Israelism

August 29, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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Anglo-Israelism, the view that Anglo-Saxons are especially blessed by God and the people of his covenant, is based in the idea of “the lost 10 tribes of Israel.” It begins with the historical fact that the Northern Kingdom of Israel broke away from the Kingdom of Judah shorty after Rehoboam, Solomon’s son, ascended to the throne (1K 11.41-12.24). These two kingdoms lived side by side, sometimes in relative peace but often at war, for about two centuries, until 722 BC, when the Assyrian army invaded the North and exiled its people (2K 17.1-41). After that event, the Northern Kingdom was never re-established; it disappeared as an entity from the pages of history.

It was common in ancient empires to exile people you conquered. The reasoning was simple: a conquered people is always inclined to rise up in rebellion against its conqueror, because nationalism never dies. So what do you do? You pack up the people and scatter them to other locations around your empire. Over time they intermarry with other ethnicities, and they lose their sense of tribal identity. Nebuchadnezzar did the same thing more than a century later, when he conquered the Southern Kingdom of Judah (2K 25.11-12), and the practice is confirmed in archaeological records across the Ancient Near East.

The story told by Anglo-Israelites posits an unexpected outcome of this event:

  • When Jacob blessed his sons, the future 12 tribes of Israel, he gave the birthright to Joseph’s sons, Ephraim and Manasseh (Gen 48.1-22).
  • These tribes were exiled in the Assyrian invasion.
  • Modern Jews are descended from Judah (as the name demonstrates), who does not hold the birthright. They’re the custodians of the royal line, but not chosen as inheritors of the birthright.
  • The Northern Kingdom was taken to Mesopotamia in exile. Eventually escaping, the ten tribes left evidence of their generational path northwestward, eventually to the British Isles.
  • The kingly line of Judah arrived in the British Isles as well after the fall of Jerusalem to Babylon in 586 BC, when Jeremiah the prophet secretly escaped with a daughter of King Zedekiah. She established the royal line in Ireland when she married Ireland’s king. That line became the royal line of the UK when James VI of Scotland became James I of Great Britain. Thus the royal line of Judah and the birthright line of Ephraim are united in Britain.
  • Many Anglo-Israelites also maintain that Manasseh, the older brother of Ephraim but placed second by Jacob’s decision (Gen 48.14-20), is the ancestor of white Americans, making the US part of Israel as well.

This is quite a claim—or concatenation of claims. There’s a lot to consider here.

Next time we’ll begin to work through these assertions.

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Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: racism

On White Nationalism, Part 3: Non-Adamic Races

August 26, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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There are those who claim to believe the Bible but who allege that only whites are descended from Adam and Eve; other races allegedly descend from other sources. (This is the view that distinguishes Christian Identity proponents from Anglo-Israelites.) There are many suggested sources—

  • They’re an earlier stage of evolution, and therefore less well developed.
  • They’re the spawn of Satan or of demons, a situation perhaps alluded to in Genesis 6.1-4.
  • They’re “the beasts of the field” mentioned in Gen 1.24 and often elsewhere.

Of course there are problems with each of these suggestions. The first, as evolutionary, I would rule out simply on that basis. It’s been suggested that at least the early incarnations of Darwinism might have encouraged this kind of thinking.

As to the second view, there’s a whole industry of bizarre thinking that springs from the Genesis 6 passage. There’s a lot of interest currently in “the Nephilim,” allegedly giants who were produced from sexual relationships between fallen angels and human females. I don’t buy it, and I’ll observe generally that obscure passages make an exceedingly weak foundation for entire worldviews. If there are aliens among us, it’s odd that God hasn’t given us any means of identifying them, or even warnings about the situation in general.

I’d like to spend a little more time on the third view, which is fairly popular among adherents to Christian Identity. There are two primary problems with positing that the Bible teaches this—

  • The term “beasts of the field” is used in Scripture in contexts that cannot refer to humans or humanoids.
    • 1Sam 17.44: David says that he’ll give Goliath’s flesh to the beasts of the field. But he clearly cannot have meant that Africans, Asians, or Pacific Islanders, for example, would eat Goliath’s body.
    • 2Sam 21.10: Rizpah protected something from birds by day and the beasts of the field by night. No Africans, Asians, or Pacific Islanders in sight.
    • Ezek 39.4: God speaks of dead soldiers as being devoured by the beasts of the field. Never in recorded history have conquering armies, or even human(oid) scavengers, feasted on the bodies of the slain.
    • The term is often paralleled with “the fowls of the air,” an association that speaks more obviously of animals than of human(oid)s (Gen 2.19-20; 1Sam 17.44; Ezek 29.5; 31.6, 13; 38.20; 39.17; et al).
  • The Bible frequently speaks of non-Israelite peoples as within the sphere of humanity and God’s plan of salvation.
    • Ps 22.27: All the nations will worship before God.
    • Ps 67.4: The nations will rejoice before the Lord.
    • Ps 72.17: All nations will call the Lord blessed.
    • Ps 86.9: All nations will worship the Lord.
    • Ps 117.1: All nations are called to worship God.
    • Isa 2.2-4: “All nations” shall flow into the Lord’s house.
    • Isa 55.5: Many nations will run to Israel because of the Lord.
    • Isa 66.18-20: All nations will come to Jerusalem to see God’s glory.
    • Rev 7.9-17: Believers from “every kingdom, tongue, tribe, and nation” will worship the Lamb before his throne.

This is a truly crucial point. What I’ve listed here is just a sampling of passages from 3 biblical books; there are scores of others, and the concept is pervasive across the biblical canon. The Revelation 7 passage is the climax of the biblical story and of cosmic history; it’s literally the whole point of the Bible. God is gathering to himself a people from every kingdom, tribe, tongue, and nation. He is bringing together people who by every human measure should be enemies, and making them all his sons and daughters, seated at his table, united perfectly by a power and grace that can be explained only by the existence of a good and great God (Eph 2.11-22; 3.10). The unity of the church is a testimony, even when silent, to the fact of God’s existence, his power, and his remarkable kindness to those whose only desire was to be his enemies. Making any of this about “race” is simply to miss the whole point.

So the foundational belief of Christian Identity is unbiblical—in fact it goes directly contrary to the whole point of biblical revelation. It’s false teaching.

Next time, we’ll begin looking at the evidence for the claim that white Europeans are “the lost 10 tribes of Israel.”

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Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: racism

On White Nationalism, Part 2: “Race”

August 22, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Part 1

It seems to me that before we can think through arguments about race, we need to define our key term. What is “race,” anyway?

And immediately we run into deep, deep trouble.

There’s an old classic delineation of races as Caucasoid, Mongoloid, and Negroid. Whites, Asians, Blacks. But is that accurate?

What are Indians? Latinos? Pacific Islanders?

You can see the indecisiveness all over the census form.

This lack of any meaningful definition for race has resulted in all kinds of confusion when we try to implement race-based policies. In South Africa, post-apartheid, the culture recognizes 3 racial groups: White, Black (or “African”), and “Coloured”—which is anybody who isn’t either White or Black. But that means that Indians, of whom there are many in South Africa, are lumped in with those of mixed race—what Americans used to call “mulattos”—who are culturally completely different from Indians. How does that make sense?

And speaking of “mixed race,” how do you define that? Back when Americans cared about such things, “mulatto” meant someone with a white parent and a black parent; “quadroon” meant someone who had 1 black grandparent; then there was “octaroon” and “hexadecaroon” and so on. At what point is the person just “white” or “black”? It just gets ridiculous; according to the “one-drop rule,” pretty much everyone in the USA is black. And I suppose that means we all ought to get along just fine.

Raced-based policy is simply unworkable and thus nonsensical. Or vice versa.

Does the Bible bring us any help?

Well, it begins by saying that all humans have 2 common ancestors, Adam and Eve (and, several generations later, Noah and Mrs. Noah). It doesn’t speak of “race” at all. We’re all “one blood” (Ac 17.26).

I highly recommend a book by my friend Ken Ham on this topic: One Race One Blood. It’s clear, understandable, and solidly biblical.

The New Testament does use the Greek word ethnos for “nation,” speaking of what today we would call “ethnicities” or “people groups.” I’m inclined to think that we’re more easily categorized by culture than melanin level, though history has demonstrated that cultural identities often arise from people’s general preference for others of their own ethnicity.

So where did the races, or ethnicities, or whatever, come from? Why are we all so different in appearance?

Nobody knows.

Really.

If the Bible teaches that we all have common descent (and for what it’s worth, my understanding is that many secular evolutionists would agree to a common human ancestry as well), then we have to conclude that all the variations we see today were contained in the original genetic code and manifested over time. How and when did they manifest?

Dunno.

We know that Noah had 3 sons, whose descendants populated the earth:

  • Shem’s people appear to have populated the Middle East (Gen 10.21-31).
  • Ham’s people appear to have populated the Middle East and North Africa (Gen 10.6-20).
  • Japheth’s people appear to have populated generally north and west of the Middle East (Gen 10.2-5).

So where did the Chinese come from? Sub-saharan Africans? Native Americans, north and south?

Don’t know. It doesn’t say. Better reserve judgment.

I doubt that Mongoloids came from Shem, and Negroids from Ham, and Caucasoids from Japheth . It’s clearly not that simple. Apparently those genetic characteristics manifested themselves over time, and certain features, melanin among them, tended to cluster in specific geographic areas (Africa, East Asia, and so on) largely because people weren’t moving around as easily as we do today.

Upshot?

Well.

Between the fact that there’s a lot we don’t know about ethnicity, and the fact that what we do know leads us to minimize rather than emphasize the distinctions, ethnicity is a really lousy basis for theological and doctrinal decisions. Particularly in the body of Christ, it ought to pretty much disappear as a factor (1Co 1.24; Gal 3.28; Col 3.11) .

But the fact remains that still today, in spite of all those billions of years of evolution (?), we’re still focused obsessively and passionately on the topic; and even within Christendom—broadly defined—people are making significant decisions based entirely on racial considerations. That fact suggests that there are serious needs to be addressed.

Hence the series.

Next time: some variations on the “common human ancestor” dogma.

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Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: racism

On White Nationalism, Part 1: Introduction

August 19, 2019 by Dan Olinger 4 Comments

Nearly 40 years ago now, I wrote, and BJU published, a brief monograph refuting the alleged biblical evidence that white people—specifically Anglo-Saxons—are God’s chosen people. After a brief shelf life, it went out of print, for the sole reason that hardly anybody bought it. (That’s kind of how publishing works. ?)

I wrote on the topic because I had a relative who espoused the view. But eventually I lost interest and moved on to other things. The recent talk about “white nationalism,” however, has gotten me thinking about the topic, and it has occurred to me that it’s worthwhile to address it again, both because of recent emphases in the news and because we can all see that racism lives on in the human heart.

I’m a fan of listening to people who know what they’re talking about—and its corollary, ignoring, or at least devaluing, the opinions of people who are just shooting their mouths off—of which the percentage seems to be growing every day. As one of my daughters commented just recently, “People who say stuff often don’t know stuff.”

Which means that I should stick to areas where I have expertise. So let’s start by defining some issues, so I can safely set aside those where I’m ignorant and should consequently keep my thoughts to myself.

The dominant term today, the one I’ve used to title this series, is “white nationalism.” That’s technically the view that whites should preserve majorities and control in one or more nations. Hence resistance to immigration (legal or illegal) by nonwhites. Usually aligned with that is the idea that white culture is superior to other cultures, and therefore white culture should be preferred as better for the future of the planet. That view we call “white supremacism,” which of course is just one form of racism. It’s a modern descendant of the American practice of slavery before the Civil War and segregation in the years that followed.

A quick side note: My experience leads me to believe that the primary reason for disdain of other cultures is unfamiliarity: you think a practice of some other culture is “stupid” because you don’t understand what’s going on behind the practice. I note that cross-cultural ignorance tends to be a particular feature of Americans because we have oceans—big ones—on both sides. Lots of Americans have never left their country, and I think this is the primary reason for the overseas stereotype of “the ugly American,” who thinks people are stupid because they don’t speak English—and who thinks that they’ll understand if he just speaks more slowly and loudly. All the “ugly American” does is proclaim his own ignorance to everyone around him. Travel more, people. And listen.

Back to my main point. Though a great many racists, including white supremacists, are secular in their thinking, some integrate religious arguments or themes into their position. It’s at this point that my ears perk up, because while I have no professional expertise in anthropology or sociology or psychology or politics, I do know something about religion, particularly Christianity, and I have some facility in tools for research and thinking in that area.

So I’d like to spend a few posts addressing some of the religious arguments for white racism, specifically the ones allegedly based in biblical exegesis. While these posts won’t apply to all “white nationalists,” I’d like to think that they might direct well-intentioned Christians away from distortions of the biblical material, mainly by demonstrating the perversion inherent in the alleged biblical interpretation.

The bulk of these posts will address the arguments of “British Israelism” or “Anglo-Israelism,” which teaches that the Anglo-Saxons are the “lost ten tribes of Israel.” A more recent popular form of British Israelism is the Christian Identity movement, which holds additionally that other white Europeans are descended from the biblical Southern Kingdom of Judah. While the former group would recognize modern Jews as descended from Judah and therefore included in God’s covenant with Abraham, the latter group holds that all modern Jews are impostors and so is aggressively antisemitic. I hope to say some things about that view as well.

See you next time.

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Filed Under: Bible, Culture, Politics, Theology Tagged With: racism

God of Law, God of Grace

July 28, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

So which is it?

Is God all about law or all about grace?

Is God the heavenly tyrant who insists that we follow his rules, or else? Who constantly chases the kids off his lawn?

Or is he the kindly old gentleman who always has candy in his pockets for the children?

There are some who see law and grace as enemies—so much so that the God of the Old Testament must be different from the God of the New. And of course they like the latter better.

Even among less reactionary people, there’s the assumption that law and grace are at odds: you have to choose one or the other. The old-timers choose law, because you know, and the hipsters choose grace, because, well, it’s obvious.

But there’s no dichotomy—in fact, there can’t possibly be. The God of the Old Testament is also the God of the New, and he isn’t at odds with himself (Num 23.19; 2Tim 2.13), and he doesn’t change (Mal 3.6; Jam 1.17).

Law and grace are one.

When I was a child in Sunday school, I occasionally heard a teacher say that the Old Testament saints were saved by keeping the Law, and we’re saved by grace.

Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s a wonder I didn’t grow up to be a flaming heretic.

So how are they one? Paul makes that clear in his two sister epistles Romans and Galatians. Abraham, he tells us, lived long before the Law even existed (Gal 3.17), and he was justified—counted righteous, though he was not righteous—by trusting God (Rom 4.2-3). By faith.

That’s grace. It couldn’t be Law, since there wasn’t any.

So if grace was working fine before the Law, why did God complicate the system by ordering Israel to keep the Law?

I’m glad you asked. Paul tells us why. The Law, he says, is designed to lead us to Christ (Gal 3.24).

All of us are really good at justifying ourselves. My case is different, you see; I have good reasons for my, um, idiosyncrasies. I’m a good person. I live by my own set of rules, and I conform to them very nicely, thanks.

God knows that if he doesn’t set the rules for us, we’ll never come to him. We’ll consider ourselves just fine—better than that other guy over there—and he knows that we’ll never be pure, never be fulfilled, never be joyous, unless we come to him. He can’t abide that; he loves us too much.

So he gives us a Law, and it’s impossible. You can try all you want, but you’ll never keep it. He’s not trying to frustrate us, to rub our faces in our own failure; he’s holding out his hands, waiting for us to come to him for forgiveness and cleansing, having realized that we can’t do It without him.

The Law brings us to Christ.

So guess what?

The Law isn’t in conflict with grace; it is grace. It’s the way God leads us stubborn horses to water, where we can drink all we want for free (Is 55.1-2).

The Law is grace. Nowhere is that more obvious than in the Ten Commandments, where God, as he is setting up the rules, reminds us of who he is, and what he has done:

I am the LORD thy God, which have brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage (Ex 20.2).

I’ve already delivered you, he says. That’s the kind of person I am; I rescue people who don’t deserve to be rescued.

And then he says something that sounds harsh:

I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me; 6 And shewing mercy unto thousands of them that love me, and keep my commandments (Ex 20.5b-6).

But it’s not harsh. Look more closely.

How far does sin reach? To the third and fourth generation.

How far do mercy and grace reach?

Thousands.

Thousands of what?

Thousands of generations, of course.

How long is a generation?

Well, let’s say 20 years. These days couples are having their first child later than that, and in West Virginia they have them a lot earlier ( :-) ), but 20 should be close enough, conservatively.

How long is a thousand generations?

20,000 years.

I’m a young-earth creationist. I don’t think we’ve been here that long.

So what’s his point?

Sin has its day, but grace lasts for as long as you need it. It’ll never run out.

And that’s right there in the Ten Commandments.

The Law.

It’s grace.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: grace, law, theology proper

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 22: Summing It All Up

May 30, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

And so we come to the end of the series on the gifts of salvation. It’s a long series, the longest yet on this blog. The experts discourage long series. Readers need variety, they say. Something fresh. Something that will catch their interest in a new way.

Fair enough.

But I did this long series anyway, because the length, in some ways, is the whole point.

As I said in the opening post, salvation isn’t really “a gift”; it’s a whole pile of gifts, wrapped in bright paper and tied with oversized bows and piled under the tree, where there’s barely room to contain them all.

Salvation is the most extravagant thing in the universe.

It goes on forever. Even longer than this series did. :-)

And yes, that’s the point.

God has designed the shape of the universe and the course of history around his extravagant plan to rescue you from the well-deserved disaster of your own sin and foolishness, and he has done so without your asking for or even wanting it. And he has done this not because of who you are, but because of who he is.

He has crushed your slavery to sin, not just breaking, but obliterating the shackles, and he has instituted an intimate personal relationship with you that will endure for all eternity. He has adorned that relationship with actions that become facets in the jewel of his love, with the result that this relationship is richer and deeper and more complex than any of the relationships that we know with our fellow creatures. It’s more than servanthood; it’s more than friendship; it’s more than brotherhood; it’s more than sonship; it’s even more than marriage. It’s all those things, and much, much more, in a single relationship.

It’s unparalleled. Unique.

Holy.

And that means it’s worth everything.

Jesus said that it’s worth more than father or mother, son or daughter, even husband or wife. It’s worth more than admiration or fame before mere creatures. It’s worth more than barns full of luxuriant wealth. It’s worth more than the whole world—and all the other worlds together.

It makes the greatest evils in this life—and they are great evils—“light afflictions,” according to Paul (2Co 4.17), who knew a little something of what he was talking about (2Co 11). In one of his most frank moments, he compared all of his accomplishments in his earlier life to a giant, steaming pile of excrement (Php 3.8). That’s strong language, because it’s emphasizing the strong and central point of Paul’s entire existence—and ours as well.

What else matters? What else could possibly matter?

Shake off the shackles of life focused in this world. Delight in the extravagant gifts of God’s plan for your salvation. Abandon your dreams to him.

You won’t be sorry.

—–

This will be my last blog post here for a few weeks, while I devote my effort to blogging a mission trip. You’re welcome to follow that story if you find it interesting.

Back soon, d.v.

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

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 21: Breaking the Tape

May 27, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Introduction
Our relationship to sin: Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion:Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion:Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion:Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

Are you a tortoise or a hare?

How’s your pace in the great marathon we call sanctification—that one element of salvation that grows and changes throughout our entire lives?

Making any progress?

Well, biblically, the answer is “yes, of course.” If you’re in the vine, you bear fruit (Jn 15.5), which the Spirit is enabling in all kinds of character development (Gal 5.22-23). You’re making progress, a little bit at a time (2Co 3.19). You’re becoming more like Christ.

But chances are you don’t feel like it.

Maybe you feel like you’re taking two steps backward for every step forward. Up and down, up and down, progress and failure, over and over again.

Or maybe you feel as though the goal is so far away—Christ is infinite and perfect, after all, and you are so filled with flaws and lusts and selfishness and evil inclinations that seem to spring out of nowhere—that you’ll just never get there. You can’t run that far.

Maybe you’re just tired.

Can I encourage you to take heart?

You’re not alone in this struggle. Others are having the same experience.

As a matter of fact, everyone’s having the same experience. Every believer living today is crammed into that tiny boat with you. We might not admit it—we’re embarrassed by our failures, and we keep them as secret as we can—but we’re all struggling, all stumbling, all frustrated that we’re not making better time per mile on this marathon God’s called us to run.

There are no super Christians.

But let’s be frank. The fact that we’re all in the same boat isn’t really much encouragement in itself. Misery may love company, but in the end we don’t want miserable companions—we want victory. We want to win.

Since we’re being frank, let’s admit that having company in the lifeboat isn’t really the solution—though it’s worth noting that in God’s plan of salvation, those walking along beside us do play a role in strengthening us for the battle through their encouragement and the exercise of their spiritual gifts in our behalf. We can help each other out, in innumerable ways. Walking this path alone is exceedingly foolish.

But there’s a much, much bigger reason to take heart. I’ve mentioned it already in this series.

It’s predestination.

You see, God has predestined you to be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom 8.29). He has guaranteed that you’re going to arrive—successfully—at the destination of perfect Christlikeness:

We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is (1J 3.2b).

You’re going to plod along, with ups and downs, fits and starts, successes and failures. And then in an instant—“in the twinkling of eye,” as Paul says (1Co 15.52), “we shall all be changed!” (1Co 15.51).

Here’s what that means: no matter how inconsistently, erratically, just plain badly you run this race of sanctification—no matter how far you are from the finish line of Christlikeness when your life here comes to an end—if you’re a genuine believer, God is going to pick you up and take you all the way to finish line at the end. And he’s going to do it in an instant.

We call that glorification, and you can read more about it in 1 Corinthians 15.20-57. And thanks to that controversial word, predestination, you can be as certain of that as that the sun will come up tomorrow (Gen 8.22).

So. What do we do in the meantime?

Earlier in this series I mentioned a long bicycle trip I took in seminary. One of my big takeaways from that trip was a change in my regional thinking. I was born in the West, where we would routinely ridicule Easterners for their talk about “mountains.” “Mountains?!” my Dad would say. “Those aren’t mountains; they’re pimples on the prairie. Now out here, we have mountains!”

And then I rode a bicycle through those eastern mountains. The first day out of Boston, the Berkshires like to killed me. Then a bit of the Catskills, then the Blue Ridge, including a bit of the Smokies—a pretty decent survey of the Appalachians, north to south.

I decided those are mountains. And my days were spent head down, dripping sweat, lost in concentration, just pedaling one step at a time, one foot after another.

Just do it.

The Christian life is a lot like that. Except that the prize at the end is a lot better than even Greenville. :-)

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

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 20: Filled with the Spirit

May 23, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Introduction
Our relationship to sin:  Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion: Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion: Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion: Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

Everything we’ve talked about so far happens to every believer. No exceptions.

But there’s one gift in this collection that’s optional. Oh, it’s under the tree for every one of us: it’s available to all. But not everybody chooses to open it.

How do we know that?

Paul tells us that we ought to be filled with the Spirit (Eph 5.18). It’s an imperative, a command.

And that implies that not everybody is doing it, and they need to be told. Paul never commands us as believers to be forgiven, or adopted, or Spirit baptized. But he does tell us to be Spirit filled.

So we ought to be. How does that happen? What does it look like?

Let’s survey the biblical data.

Just one person was said to be filled with the Spirit in the Old Testament. He was the craftsman, Bezalel, who build the Tabernacle and its contents (Ex 31.3). The Bible says that Joshua was “filled with the spirit of wisdom” (Dt 34.9), but that’s ambiguous; many English versions spell “spirit” as lowercase, which I’ve done here.

But there’s clearly a change in the New Testament. The term shows up a lot, and it happens to a lot of people. And, as we’ve seen, it’s commanded of all believers.

John the Baptist is filled with Spirit from the womb (Lk 1.15), and that seems to be connected to the power of his ministry. Both of his parents are filled with the Spirit before his birth (Lk 1.41, 67). Unsurprisingly, Jesus is filled with the Spirit after John baptizes him (Lk 4.1). Peter is filled with the Spirit when he speaks to the Sanhedrin (Ac 4.8). Stephen is filled with the Spirit when he faces martyrdom (Ac 7.55). Paul is filled with the Spirit when Ananias visits him after his conversion (Ac 9.17), and later when he rebukes Elymas the sorcerer (Ac 13.9).

But what about regular people like us? At Pentecost, all the believers are filled with the Spirit at the time of the first Spirit baptism (Ac 2.4). But as we’ve noted, the condition is apparently temporary, since later all believers are commanded to undergo it.

So how do we get it?

Surprisingly, the Bible doesn’t say. In all the references we’ve seen so far, there seems to be an element of divine sovereignty involved; believers are filled, at God’s choice, when they need to be. John the Baptist certainly didn’t pray to be filled with the Spirit from his mother’s womb.

Yet we are told to be filled. It’s something we should seek, something we should desire. The filling seems to be connected to prayer in several references (e.g. Ac 4.31). So I think it’s reasonable to pray for the Spirit to fill us, and I think it’s reasonable to expect that God will answer that prayer when we need it.

What happens then?

The Scripture says a lot more about that.

The early disciples were filled with boldness to speak the word (Ac 4.31); the men chosen to serve the early church (whom we traditionally have taken to be the first deacons) were “full of the Spirit,” and the next scene has one of them, Stephen, boldly delivering the sermon that got him martyred (Ac 6.3, 5); Barnabas was full of the Spirit “and of faith” (Ac 11.24), and his next recorded action is to seek out the new convert Saul and confidently endorse him before the church; the new believers in Antioch of Pisidia were “filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit” as they faced persecution (Ac 13.52). So boldness to do the hard thing seems to be one result.

Did you notice that in several of these instances (Ac 4.8, 31; 13.9-10) the result of boldness is speaking? Maybe one reason so many Christians are afraid to speak of Jesus is because they haven’t chosen to be filled with the Spirit. And further, that one command (Eph 5.18) is followed immediately by the command to speak to one another in edifying ways. Maybe one reason why we’re afraid to speak even to fellow believers about Christ is that we’re missing this vital option.

And we’ve seen the fullness linked to faith (Ac 6.5) and joy (Ac 13.52).

Maybe—

Well, maybe you can write that last sentence yourself.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: salvation, Spirit filling, systematic theology

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 19: And So It Begins

May 20, 2019 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment


Introduction
Our relationship to sin:  Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion: Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion: Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion: Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

Part 19? And so it begins?!

Yep.

So far we’ve looked at what God has done for us, and to us, to move us away from our slavery to sin. I’ve identified 6 stages or facets of that process.

And now we’re 13 stages or steps into the process by which God makes us his own. Even before we knew him, he was 3 stages into that process. And then came the Earthquake, that moment when we were converted, and a whole bunch of things—I’ve identified 8 of them—happened simultaneously, in a glorious instant.

But all of that is prologue. Now that we belong to God and are no longer slaves to sin, we have a life to live, one that Jesus spoke of as “abundant” (Jn 10.10). The instant is over, and the long process of life in Christ has begun.

What does that look like? How does it happen?

Where do we go from here?

And so it begins.

You may recall a term we used earlier, in Part 12, which I called “Ownership.” At conversion, God makes us his own, and he sets us apart as his special property. I compared that to my wife’s “fine china” collection, which is kept in a special place and used only for special occasions—because it’s, well, special.

The biblical word for that “specialness” is holiness—being set apart. And another form of that same word, though it doesn’t look related in English, is sanctification. When we were converted, God “sanctified” us by setting us apart as his treasured possession. Back in Part 12 I called that “positional sanctification.”

But there’s a second, and much more complex, stage of sanctification.

Why?

Well, you don’t put cheap dishes in the china cabinet. You upgrade them.

God has indeed put his stamp on us, and we do belong to him. But he’s not content with leaving us as he found us; he’s not only going to clean us up—in fact, he’s already done that—but he’s going to change who we are, down to the very core of our being. He’s going to change us from cheap china to fine china, made from the very best clay, sculpted to perfection, painted and glazed with the artistry of the very finest technicians.

What does that look like for us, who are not in fact dishes, but human beings?

He’s going to make us like his Son. Like Christ.

You may recall that that’s one of the things he says he’s “predestined” in us. We are predestined, Paul says, to be “conformed to the image of his Son” (Rom 8.29). God has committed himself to seeing us through to the point where we are as much like Jesus as it is possible for people—who aren’t God—to be.

Interestingly, God has chosen to take his time doing that.

We know that he can do anything, and if he wants to, he can do it in an instant. He made fermented wine in an instant* (Jn 3), and thereby demonstrated (among other things) that he’s the Lord of time. He made the entire cosmos in just 6 days.

And yet he conforms us to Christ’s likeness slowly, over a long process—as Paul puts it, “from glory to glory” (2Co 3.18), one step at a time.

Why?

I dunno. But thanks for reading. :-)

Maybe because we’ll appreciate it more or understand it better that way. Maybe because he’s designed some kinds of healthy growth to take place slowly.

But becoming sanctified is a process that takes us the rest of our lives. Every day, in a series of kind providences, God is chipping away at you, polishing you, upgrading your thinking and your feeling and your doing to make it a little tiny bit more Christlike. We call that “progressive sanctification.”

And as Peter notes, one of the main ways he does that is through trials (1P 1.3-9). Like athletes in training, we improve by facing hardships and enduring them, overcoming them, and doing so a little more effectively every time we work out.

Now, there’s a purpose in life that’s worth something. There’s a goal that gives meaning to the most inexplicable things that happen to us.

There’s real hope.

* I know, I know. That’s an argument for another post. When I feel like it.

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

The Gifts of Salvation, Part 18: Assurance

May 16, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment


Introduction
Our relationship to sin:  Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion: Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion: Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion: Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what about assurance, the subjective side?

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

Do you believe God, or don’t you?

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

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

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

So where are we with God?

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

Is he going to cut you loose?

Don’t be ridiculous. What nonsense.

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

Listen to him.

Photo by freestocks.org on Unsplash

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

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