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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Baccalaureate, Part 2

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Part 1 

Another, very different perspective: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

God is indeed great. Insuperably great. Unimaginably great. 

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

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

God Is Good 

To his protégé Timothy Paul calls God 

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

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

Don’t believe me? Hear me out. 

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

Yep, air. Or more specifically, oxygen. 

Free. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

God has been remarkably good to us. 

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

On Retiring, Part 2: How 

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Part 1: Why 

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

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

It’s all good. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is really, really weird. 

I like it. 

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

  • Get the Medicare / Medigap process started. (We have some time on that.) 
  • Condense and pack up the office. 
  • Order a laptop to replace the one I’ll be turning in at the end of the summer; I’ll need some time to set it up, install software that won’t be provided by the university anymore, and transfer stuff over. I intend to keep pretty much all my academic records in electronic form in case issues come up down the road that I need verification for. 

“Up down.” That’s funny. 

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

  • Upload the commentary that my students wrote in Romans class, so they can add it to their portfolios if they want to; 
  • End-of-year program assessments and division report; 
  • Polished versions of a couple of division processes for the Next Guy. Maybe this week, maybe later. 

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

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

This is fun. 

Photo by Stefan Steinbauer on Unsplash

On Sound Speech, Part 5  

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

How else can we speak like God? 

Lovingly 

That we henceforth be no more children, … but speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things (Ep 4.14-15). 

We’re inclined to speak in ways that benefit ourselves. We want to win the argument. We want to defend our choices. We want to tell a good story—better than the other guy’s—and be the center of attention. 

Now, there’s nothing wrong with a good story. Jesus told good stories. In fact the whole Bible is basically one really good story, augmented with insights from prophets and poets and letter-writers  along the way that give greater depth to the central narrative. One of the great joys in life is to go to a family reunion and listen to the stories we all can tell. 

But sometimes we just want to tell a better story than the one the other guy just told. “You think that’s cool? Well, once I …” 

Why not just let the other guy enjoy the group’s response to his story? Why do we need to beat it? 

We should speak in love. That means we should seek to add to the grace and peace, and joy, of the ones we’re speaking to, aiming at their growth rather than our advancement. Our goal should not be to promote ourselves, or to defend ourselves, or to otherwise advance ourselves. 

A companion thought to this is the goal that we’re lovingly seeking in the other. Paul writes later in the same epistle, 

Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers (Ep 4.29). 

We ought to speak edifyingly; we ought to speak in ways that build up the ones we’re speaking to. We ought to leave them better for having heard us speak. 

We all have casual conversations, small talk. We all laugh at silly things together. Not every conversation needs to be serious or deep. But there ought to be times when we teach and encourage one another, when we “exhort one another to love and good works” (He 10.24). And there should never be times when our words tear someone down. 

Does God speak lovingly? Does he build us up with his words? Well, we’re told, he is love. He speaks compassionately, encouragingly, with words of grace and hope. 

Sure, sometimes he speaks hard words. But he does so in ways that he, the all-knowing one, knows will bring us out to a good end. Without his omniscience, we need to speak more—what’s the word? Carefully? Tentatively? Safely? 

None of those words seem quite right. But one thing is sure: we need to speak more lovingly than we do. We need to edify one another. 

Biblically 

We’ve been in Ephesians for the previous point. In Paul’s sister epistle to Ephesians, he writes, 

Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom; teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord (Co 3.16). 

When we consider this verse, we typically focus on the musical part, the singing and the psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. And that’s what the verse is about. But I’d suggest that this is still a “speech code,” since singing is largely a melodic type of talking. And he begins the verse by sourcing our words in “the word of Christ.” 

Some Christian sects believe they should sing only psalms, words that are directly biblical. I don’t see the Scripture as limiting our singing in that way, though I do see those sects, all else being equal, as my Christian brothers and sisters. 

This passage does say, though, that our songs should be solidly biblical. We ought to remind one another of the word and exhort one another to believe and follow it. 

I see no reason why that shouldn’t apply to our non-melodic (spoken) words as well. 

And to talk that way, we need to have minds imbued with God’s words. We need to have read the Scripture, meditated on it, memorized it, and thought through applications, so that those applications flow naturally through our speech. 

We can do better than we do. 

There’s lots more. See you next time. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 4 

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

We’ve surveyed how God speaks. Should we seek to speak in similar ways? And if so, specifically how? 

Let me start with the “should we?” question. 

Back to the beginning.  

This God, who created so much simply by speaking, goes to another level when he makes Adam. On Day Six, after all that speaking things into existence, he stops speaking, and he gets out of his chair, so to speak, and he kneels in the clay outside Eden—this is the Son, remember (Jn 1.1-3; He 1.2)—and he fashions from the clay a recumbent statue that looks like him. And he bends over that lifeless statue and breathes life into it. And Adam pinks up; he is alive.  

And he is, as God had planned, in the very image of God.  

And we, Adam’s billions of descendants, are in God’s image too.  

Further, when God placed us in Christ—when we repented and believed and were justified freely by his grace—God began to enable us to be in his image in much more powerful and effective ways. God, through his Spirit, began to conform us, slowly, steadily, surely into the image of his Son (2Co 3.18)—and to empower us to imitate him genuinely and delightfully.  

And so we find that we too can speak truth, and justly, and rightly. We too can speak and see good things happen.  

And now for the “how?” question. The New Testament gives us specific guidance on how we are able to speak well, by the grace of God and the power of his Spirit. Let me marshal some examples. 

Thinkingly 

James tells us that everyone should be “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath” (Jam 1.19). God speaks that way, because he’s like that. That means we shouldn’t shoot our mouths off. First we should listen long enough to know what we’re talking about. (Of course, God, as omniscient, doesn’t need to listen first in order to understand something. But he’s still slow to wrath.) 

A few verses later James tells us to “bridle” our tongues (Jam 1.26); he even says that the person who doesn’t do that has “vain [empty, meaningless]” religion. And later in his epistle he speaks of the tongue as unbridled, untamable (Jam 3.8); consider carefully the entire context (Jam 3.1-12), and note his words about meekness and strife in the following paragraph (Jam 3.13-18). 

Well. Taming the untamable. That’s a lot to work on, but the grace of God is sufficient (2Co 12.9). And it needs to be, because there’s a lot more. 

Truthfully 

25 Wherefore putting away lying, speak every man truth with his neighbour: for we are members one of another (Ep 4.25). 

We ought to tell the truth. All the time. God does. 

Now, some might observe that in context Paul is writing of relationships between believers, within the body of Christ. But that’s arguable; he’s talking about “putting off the old man” (Ep 4.22), including “stealing no more” (Ep 4.28). It would be absurd to suggest that it’s okay to steal from, or to lie to, nonbelievers. 

Now, this raises a question. Do we always speak “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth”? I’d suggest that guiding our everyday conversation by that common legal oath is problematic, especially in the phrase “the whole truth.” First, I note that God doesn’t tell us everything, and I see no obligation on us to tell anybody else “everything.” If the baby is not in fact the most beautiful baby ever born (as my children and grandchild most certainly are), you can rejoice with the new parents in the wonder of birth and the delights of children without flat-out lying. 

And, not surprisingly, the Scripture gives us further guidance on how we can do that. We’ll look further in the next post. 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Puzzled Prophets, Part 2

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Part 1 

I’ve given one example of an OT prophet who didn’t understand the message he was given to deliver, and I’ve suggested a couple more possible examples. I don’t know whether you noticed or not, but none of those examples involved a prophet who was puzzled over the specific idea that Peter says puzzled multiple OT prophets. 

And what’s that? It was a twofold question: “searching what, or what manner of time” (1P 1.11)—that is, what’s going to happen, and when is it going to happen? And the “it,” in this case, is a very specific event: 

  • The Christ (Messiah, “Anointed One”) will suffer, 
  • And then he will reign in glory. 

How can that happen? 

I suspect that their understanding was clouded by a related issue. It appears to me that the Jews—both before and during Jesus’ day—were expecting four different “coming ones”: 

  • The prophet like Moses (Dt 18.15); 
  • David’s eternally reigning Son, the Messiah (2Sa 7.16); 
  • The Servant of the Lord (Is 42, 49, 50, 52, 53); 
  • And Elijah (Mal 4.5-6). 

They didn’t seem to understand that three of these four are the same person, as evidenced by the people’s questions of John the Baptist (Jn 1.20-21). 

The prophecies are very clear that the Servant of the Lord will suffer (esp. Is 52.13-53.12) and that David’s greater son will rule forever (2Sa 7.16). But those two are the same person, and apparently the prophets themselves didn’t understand that. 

  • This coming one would be despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief (Is 53.3);  
  • He will bear our griefs, and carry our sorrows (4); 
  • He will be wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities—and with his stripes we will be healed (5); 
  • The Lord will lay on him the iniquity of us all (6); 
  • He will be brought as a lamb to the slaughter (7);  
  • He will be cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgressions of Isaiah’s people (8).  
  • And yes, he will make his grave with both the wicked and the rich (9); 
  • The Lord will make his soul an offering for sin (10); 
  • He will pour out his soul unto death, and make intercession for the transgressors, and bear the sin of many. 

And then, and only then, he will see his seed, and prolong his days, and the pleasure of the Lord will prosper in his hand. 

Why Peter Says It 

Now. 

Why does Peter bring this up? What’s his point, in this context? What does this have to do with our suffering? 

I can’t read Peter’s mind, but let me hazard a suggestion. 

Peter’s writing about the confident hope we have in suffering. But how can we have a confident hope when we just don’t understand why stuff happens to us the way that it does?  

First, we have the example of the prophets, who didn’t understand—for the rest of their lives—and they believed anyway.  

  • Doesn’t it make sense that an infinite, ineffable God would occasionally do some things that are beyond our intellectual reach? What kind of a God would it be who did only things that our finite minds can understand?  
  • Doesn’t our confidence increase when we realize that our failure to understand isn’t evidence that anything is wrong with God’s plan?  

Further, we have the historical example. Unlike the prophets, we have the benefit of hindsight: we have seen their prophecies fulfilled, even though they sometimes didn’t have the foggiest notion of what they were talking about. We know how the Servant could make his grave with both the wicked and the rich.  

What about those prophecies yet unfulfilled—the ones we still don’t understand?  

Do you think this God will fulfill those promises too?  

I do.  

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

James’s Big Ideas, Part 3: Words 

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Wisdom 

We turn now to the second of James’s three big ideas. In multiple chapters he warns against improper use of the tongue. He begins chapter 3 with a paragraph or two of stark words, demonstrating the tongue’s outsized significance in human relations. 

To begin with, he says, if you can control your tongue, you can control any other part of your body; disciplined speech is a mark of maturity (Jam 3.2). For “control,” he uses the word “bridle”—and that clearly calls to his mind a whole list of analogies. A tiny bit in a massive horse’s mouth will redirect him (Jam 3.3). Similarly, a relatively small rudder will turn a large ship in whatever direction the captain wishes (Jam 3.4). 

Years ago I had an opportunity to spend a Saturday sailing an iceboat on a frozen Lake Cochichuate in Massachusetts. Sailing across the wind, with the single triangular sail pulled in tight, you can go much faster than the wind is blowing—in fact, 50 or 60 mph. It was delightful. 

But the rudder. There’s the rub. The little single-passenger boat didn’t weigh very much, and the rudder couldn’t get much of a purchase on the surface of the ice. I was all over that lake. In liquid water, however, it’s different. There, the rudder will turn the whole ship—perhaps not fast, but surely. 

In both of these instances—the bit and the rudder—a tiny thing has an outsized effect. And the tongue is such a thing. A few words can change a life, for better or for worse. 

James turns to a different metaphor. Fire, he says, can start small but wreak widespread devastation (Jam 3.5-6). Many people don’t know about the largely abandoned town of Centralia, PA, where a fire has been burning for decades in a coal seam beneath the ground. The surface is warm, or even hot, to the touch, and all the real estate is worthless. “How great a matter a little fire kindleth!” (Jam 3.5). 

James climaxes his presentation with the last metaphor: poison (Jam 3.8). Just 15 milligrams (half a thousandth of an ounce) of strychnine, I’m told, can kill you in as little as 5 minutes. More recently, the US has become aware that just 2 milligrams of fentanyl is fatal. 

And the tongue, James says, is like that. 

Yikes. 

And yet, James has already told us two chapters earlier that someone who cannot control his tongue has “vain” religion. His profession is empty, vapid, worthless. 

A few verses further down in our passage James asserts that mankind has tamed all the fauna there are (Jam 3.7)—to varying degrees, of course. Even a lion is held at bay with a relatively small whip. But the tongue, he says, is beyond taming (Jam 3.8). 

So what can we do? Are we hopeless? Is genuine faith, manifesting itself in constructive speech, forever out of reach? 

Certainly not. Again, back in chapter 1 James has already laid out the solution. It is God’s word—the fruit of his tongue, if you will—that “begat” us, or gave us spiritual life. It is the “engrafted” word—that which he has implanted within us—that saves our souls (Jam 1.21). And consequently, as hearers who are alive spiritually, we can respond to that word by obeying it (Jam 1.22-25). 

So how do we prevent ourselves, and those with whom we interact, from being poisoned by our undisciplined tongues? 

We consume the Scripture, in the largest quantities for which we have capacity. We determine what those ancient words require of us in our very different time and place. And we put them into practice. 

The Scripture, we know, is a means of grace. It is in itself the source of our power to obey it. It’s time for us to read, listen, and watch God work. 

Photo by madeleine ragsdale on Unsplash

On Death 

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I’m at the age where more and more of my friends are dying. I’m approaching threescore and ten, and a lot of people start really paying attention to the subject of death around that time. A friend of mine gives talks at churches about how to prepare for death—getting all the paperwork in order, writing important things down, all of that. I’ve done that for my wife, on the assumption that I’ll go first. (If she goes first, I won’t be able to find anything without just randomly opening doors and drawers.) 

There’s something to be said for good stewardship, for thoughtful preparation for the inevitable, and I’ve tried to do that. 

But I don’t obsess about death, and I certainly don’t fear it. 

It’s normal to not want to go through a painful dying process, and there are certainly possibilities in aging that are not pleasant. My Dad went through dementia for the last 6 years of his life, during which I was his primary caregiver, and I know the frustration he felt with his limitations, and especially with recognizing those limitations and being unable to do anything about them. At one point during that time I asked God to allow me to get hit by a truck the day before my mind goes, and I still nourish that thought. 

But fear death? Obsess? No siree. 

There are lots of reasons not to. 

First, death is a deliverance. All our lives we’ve been frustrated by our limitations, physical and mental, even though we can experience great joy and fulfillment from life in this world. We get used to the fact that we can’t do everything we want to, and just as a fish probably isn’t aware of the water he swims in, we get used to living in this mortal coil. 

But this is not what we’re designed for. We’re Ferraris driving on crowded city streets, and we long to be delivered from the constraints, the frustrations, the inefficiencies, the misunderstandings of life here (Ro 8.21-23). 

Death puts a stop to all that nonsense. 

I’m looking forward to that. 

Second, death is more than just leaving the old behind; it’s being ushered into a new kind of existence—most especially, personal and visible presence with Christ himself (2Co 5.6-8). The Scripture doesn’t give any detailed description of what that will be like, but it promises that that state will be far superior to this one. I believe what it says. 

Now, it’s true that we will apparently be reunited with loved ones who have gone on before, but the Scripture doesn’t pay much attention to that. To listen to some old hymns, you’d think that a family reunion is the most important part of heaven. “Will the circle be unbroken,” and all that. “I’m just a poor, wayfaring stranger … I’m going there to see my mother.” “I will meet you in the morning, just inside the eastern gate.” 

Sure, I’m looking forward to seeing Mom again; she may be mildly surprised to see me there at all. But family reunion is a byproduct, not the point of it all. To be with Christ, to meet face to face, to serve without failure or frustration—that’s going to be really something. 

Third, death is better, but still anticipatory. What do I mean by that? 

Scripture speaks, but only briefly, of what we call “the intermediate state,” the time between our death and our resurrection (2Co 5.1-10). Paul confirms that we will put off our current bodies and await our resurrection bodies. In the meantime, he says, we’ll be “unclothed” (2Co 5.4)—and, he implies, that’ll be just a little strange; we’re not designed to be unembodied. He’s very clear that we’ll be better off than we are now (2Co 5.8), but—and I love this—we will be looking forward to something even better yet to come. Anticipation is a powerfully good thing, and I’m delighted that God has designed our death to improve our state but also to leave room for further improvement to be joyfully anticipated. 

And that is why “we sorrow not as others, who have no hope” (1Th 4.13). 

Live with joyful anticipation, and welcome every next step. 

Further thoughts on the topic here. 

Photo by Scott Rodgerson on Unsplash

On Discipline, Part 5: Mentors 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence | Part 4: Thought 

One more item in Paul’s list of areas we should give attention to and discipline: 

Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you (Php 4.9). 

He encourages the believers in Philippi—a church that he planted—to imitate his example, to follow his practices. These days we call such a person a mentor, and those who imitate him proteges. 

Some people might find this surprising. Isn’t this arrogant of Paul—especially since Christ is the only perfect example? 

Good point. And as it happens, Paul says that himself elsewhere: 

Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ (1Co 11.1). 

He’s clearly not placing his value as an example above that of Christ. 

I’ll note that Paul’s exhortation here indicates that he has been careful to set the kind of example that the Philippians should follow. He’s been helped in that, certainly by the fact that he’s an apostle, guided by the Spirit into all truth (Jn 16.13).  

Slight sidetrack: Many interpreters would apply Jn 16.13 to all believers. I don’t, because I know that I’m not guided into all truth, and as I tell my students, I have written documentation in a file cabinet in my office that they are not guided into all truth either. I think this is a promise to the apostles that they would be inerrant in their reporting of Jesus’ life and teachings—their proclamation of the gospel. This of course would come to us through the New Testament. But since only three men in the room in John 16 wrote any New Testament, I’m also inclined to believe that the rest of the apostles, though not sinless (Ga 2.11), were inerrant in their preaching—which makes Luke’s description of the Bereans all the more remarkable (Ac 17.11; but cf 1Th 2.13). 

But to return. 

Paul here encourages the Philippians to imitate his example. 

Might this exhortation have broader significance? Should we, two millennia after Paul’s death, imitate him too? It occurs to me that we’ll have a harder time doing so, since we can’t see Paul’s example in his day-to-day life, as the Philippians did. But there are certainly a good many things we can know about him, and those things we can imitate. 

But to go a step further. Can we take Paul’s words as a general endorsement of the concept of mentorship? There are a good many Christian books on discipleship that do just that, and I don’t see a reason to disagree with them. Paul’s teaching on spiritual gifts seems to imply strongly that all believers should sit under gifted teachers and should live exemplary lives before their church assemblies. 

So, I would suggest, we can all benefit from following the examples of exemplary believers. (The apparent redundancy there is intentional and is not actually redundant.) And Paul’s words here in verse 9 indicate that we should be careful whom we choose. 

I suppose it could go without saying that we should choose as models those who follow Christ well, consistently, carefully, graciously. We should choose them not because they’re popular, or good-looking, or socially adept. We should recognize something of the character of Christ in them and then seek to integrate that character trait into our own thinking and lifestyle. We should ask them questions, and we should listen to the answers. 

I suppose it’s worthwhile to insert a caution here. 

You and I are not called to be anybody else. God has made us all different, and he has gifted us to serve in ways that are the sum of our DNA, our upbringing, our experiences, our sanctification, and yes, our gifting. I’ve known Christians who want desperately to be just like somebody they admire, and those efforts always end in disappointment. We’re called to be ourselves, remade in the image of Christ. 

But we ought to follow examples, carefully chosen, in our lifelong journey to be like Christ. 

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 10: Eternally Filled

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Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance | Part 5: A Plan | Part 6: Approach | Part 7: Proposal | Part 8: Affirmation | Part 9: Contract

With the way cleared for Boaz to serve as Ruth’s—and Naomi’s—redeemer, “the elders call down blessings upon him and his bride, and pray that the gracious Ruth will be a mother in Israel such as Rachel and Leah were [Ru 4.11]. This is indeed an optimistic expectation, since these two women as wives of Jacob built up the whole house of Israel, with the assistance of their maids Bilhah and Zilpah” (ECB).

But they go further. They mention “the house of Perez” (Ru 4.12). Why Perez? Well, Perez ”was an ancestor of Boaz (18), and one of only three ancestors of the whole tribe of Judah. Probably most of the local population had descended from him” (NBC).

The comparison is rife with ironic contrast.

  • First, Perez’s birth to Tamar, via Judah, was “a situation in which the levirate responsibility was not honored (Gen. 38)” (TCBC). Judah had failed to care for his daughter-in-law after her husband Er had died. Boaz is a more distant relative to Naomi and Ruth, yet he is fully committed to meeting all their needs.
  • Second, “Tamar achieved her ends through trickery, but Ruth received her son through righteous obedience. … Ironically, the righteousness of a Moabitess, a foreigner to Israel’s covenant, brought salvation to Judah’s family” (HCBC). “Considering the rabbinic hermeneutical principle of ‘from greater to lesser,’ the reader cannot help but think that if Yahweh had given immoral Judah a double blessing in the birth of twins and if Judah flourished through Perez, how much brighter are the prospects for Boaz and Ruth” (NAC).

“This conclusion of the narrative contrasts beautifully with its introduction (1:1–5). Deep sorrow turned to radiant joy; emptiness gave way to fullness” (BKC).

The marriage is followed quickly by fruitfulness in the birth of a son (Ru 4.13). The redeemer who had filled Ruth’s apron with seed for daily bread multiple times now fills her with the sort of seed that will have an eternal impact.* Ruth had had no children during her 10-year marriage to Mahlon; this time will be different. The filling includes not only provision—wealthy provision—but also offspring, and thus a future.

As we might expect, the women of this little village find the birth of this baby a matter for comment (Ru 4.14-15)—and they address their comments not to Ruth, the mother, but to Naomi. They recognize this birth, undistinguished to the earthly eye, as momentous. The baby, not Boaz, is the real redeemer. Mara, the bitter, empty woman, is Naomi again, redeemed, rescued, confident in her secure future.

And the narrative ends with the infant not in Ruth’s lap, but in Naomi’s. She is truly filled. Perhaps the book should be called “Naomi.”

And then the final twist. We learn why this story of poor, apparently insignificant women from a small village is occupying a place in the literature of eternity.

This child of Boaz, and of Perez, is a link in a long chain extending from Abram (Gen 12.1-3)—indeed from God’s “first gospel” in Ge 3.15—to the redemption of a great throng, from every kingdom, tribe, tongue, and nation, who will worship and serve God for all eternity.

We’re not told all that here. But we are told that this infant is to be the grandfather of David, the king, the sweet singer of Israel, whose Greater Son, we know, is the infinite kinsman redeemer, who was made in the likeness of men so that we might be made the righteousness of God in him.

Ruth is a small study of God’s work for us. “The Book of Ruth shows God as concerned not only for the welfare of one family—Naomi and Ruth—but for the welfare of all God’s people who would be blessed by David and by David’s Son, Jesus Christ. The participation of Ruth, the Moabitess, in the fufillment of God’s promises indicates that God’s salvation is for people of all nationalities” (HCBC).

“Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!”

* For this insight into the thematic development of Ruth I am indebted to the late Dr. Ron Horton, longtime professor of literature at Bob Jones University.

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Ruth—Emptiness Filled, Part 8: Affirmation

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Part 1: Background | Part 2: Loyal Love | Part 3: Chance | Part 4: Abundance | Part 5: A Plan | Part 6: Approach | Part 7: Proposal

For now, Ruth will stay at the threshing floor with Boaz until daylight approaches. “Why did Boaz tell Ruth to remain with him that night [Ru 3.13], potentially compromising her virtue, rather than sending her home immediately? In view of the general lawlessness and social disruption that characterized the period of the judges (cp. Jdg 21:25), sending Ruth home alone late at night would have placed her life in danger” (ASB).

But she will leave before she can be recognized; “Boaz took precaution against scandal ([Ru] 3:14), which showed that he already was functioning as Ruth’s protector” (TCBC).

And as he sends her home at daylight, he demonstrates again his determination to function as her provider as well. Into her held-out cloak he pours “six measures” of barley grains (Ru 3.15). The six “measures” were probably 6 omers, 6/10 of an ephah (Ex 16.36) or about 25 pounds. Again, she probably carried the bundle home on her head. “If someone should spot her that morning it would appear that she had merely gotten an early start on the day’s work by transporting this sizable allotment of grain from the threshingfloor to her quarters” (Smith, OTSS).

When Ruth reports it all back to Naomi (Ru 3.16-17), the wise older woman reads Boaz’s intentions well (Ru 3.18).

So is God keeping covenant with this “empty” woman? Is He filling her again?

  • He has brought her home just as food becomes abundant.
  • He has led her foreign daughter to one of just a few men who are legally qualified to help her in a substantial way—and he is wealthy enough to act on the qualification, and kind enough to be willing to help.
  • He has revealed Boaz to be an honorable man, and a humble one, who is surprised that the beautiful Moabite would even ask him for redemptive marriage.

Her reactions to this point tell us that she recognizes what the Lord is doing to refill her empty life.

  • She knows immediately that Boaz, the owner of the “random” field, is “one of our next kinsmen” (Ru 2.20) and a man of hesed.
  • She knows that Ruth will be well protected if she stays in his field for the harvest season (Ru 2.22).
  • She knows that Boaz will likely respond honorably to Ruth’s plea for redemption and will not take advantage of the private meeting in the middle of the night (Ru 3.1-4).

 Could there possibly be more? Of course; would God do this much and leave her still effectively empty? Certainly not.

 And what of us?

 Will this God honor His promises to you?

  • Will He receive you in spite of your sin?
  • Will He meet your physical needs?
  • Will He hear your prayers?
  • Will He bring you safely home?

 What do you think?

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