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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Immanuel, Part 2: Covenant 

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Part 1: Creation 

God begins our story by emphasizing that he wants to fellowship intimately with us. The book of Genesis contains many indications of that idea not mentioned in the previous post—his fellowship with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob most notably, a story punctuated with the building of altars and the offering of sacrifices that speak of such fellowship, and indeed of love. 

As we move into Exodus, the theme continues. 

God has promised Abraham that he will give his descendants a certain land—the land God has directed him to, and on which Abraham has already walked—the land of Canaan. As Exodus opens, Jacob (Israel) and his handful of descendants have left the land of promise—because they were in danger of starving in the famine—and have relocated to Egypt, at the clear providential direction of God through Jacob’s son Joseph. And under Joseph’s protection, they flourish there. 

But dark times come. A new Pharoah arises, who knows nothing of the centuries-old stories of Joseph, the savior of Egypt, and who sees Jacob’s descendants as simply a supply of free manual labor. 

So the Israelites become slaves—toiling under merciless taskmasters, and for free. 

But God sees, and he hears their cries, and he raises up Moses, providentially raised in Pharaoh’s very courts, to take a message to Pharaoh: 

Let my people go. 

Did you hear that? 

My people. Mine. 

Family. Intimacy. Love. 

And through a series of plagues, which are clearly direct attacks on and defeats of Egypt’s many gods, the LORD brings his beloved people out of Egypt, through the Red Sea to Sinai, where he meets with their leaders—face to face with Moses—and enters into a covenant with them. That covenant is rich and multifaceted; he is their Lord, their King. But he is also their Husband. 

He marries them. 

And during an extended period with Moses on the mountain, he gives extensive instructions for a Tabernacle, a tent where he will dwell among them. When Moses returns down the mountain, his face shines with the intensity of his fellowship with God. 

And with the energetic cooperation of the people, skilled and gifted craftsmen build the tent to the exact specifications God has given. They call it “the Tent of Meeting,” because in that simple edifice both Moses and the high priest can meet with God. The Tabernacle is set up in the very middle of the camp. 

And as the crowning element of this marriage ceremony, the visible light of God’s presence, the pillar of cloud and fire1, descends and hovers over the tent, directly over the Holiest Place, the section of the tent where the Ark of the Covenant is placed. 

This Ark is a gold-plated box containing the Ten Commandments—the marriage license, if you will—and Aaron’s rod, the symbol of priestly authority. Its solid-gold lid, the Covering or Mercy Seat, features images of two cherubim facing each other, and God says that he dwells there on the Mercy Seat, between the cherubim. It is there that the high priest, once a year on the Day of Atonement, sprinkles the sacrificial blood that will cover the sins of the people for another year. 

God dwells among them. 

He has married them, and now they move in together and set up house. 

Next time: the theme continues. 

1 In my loosely held opinion, there were not two pillars, one of “cloud” during the day and another of “fire” during the night, with daily transitions from one to the other. Rather there was a single bright white pillar, which looked like a bright cloud during daylight hours and then, with darkness, appeared more luminescent, like fire. The cloud is referred to as a “pillar [singular] of cloud and of fire” in Ex 14.24. This seems consistent with Solomon’s statement that the Lord “would dwell in thick darkness” (1K 8.12 // 2Ch 6.1; cf. Ex 20.21; Dt 4.11; 5.22). 

Part 3: Marriage | Part 4: Turning the Page | Part 5: Forever

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Immanuel, Part 1: Creation

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One of the key pursuits in Biblical Studies is discerning the central theme of the Bible. In Biblical Theology, which is essentially the study of the Bible as literature, this question is the end of the entire discipline, the goal toward which all the other work is pointing. In German scholarship it’s called the Mitte, or center. 

Over the years several candidates have been suggested. A popular one is “kingdom”: Thurman Wisdom and Thomas Schreiner have both recently favored this idea in one form or another. Another popular suggestion is “covenant,” suggested influentially a century ago by Walther Eichrodt. And recently Peter Gentry and Stephen Wellum have combined the two ideas. 

For a time I toyed with the idea of “Messiah” as the central theme. I noted that the Hebrew Canon has three parts—the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings—each of which introduces us to offices (priest, prophet, and king, respectively) that were filled by disappointing people, all anticipating the perfect Prophet, Priest, and King who would lead without disappointment. He was, of course, the Messiah, the Anointed One—and all of these offices typically involved anointing. 

I think that’s a defensible suggestion for a central, governing theme; it seems comprehensive, with good explanatory power for all the biblical contents. 

But lately I’ve been meditating on another possibility, a theme that has been observed and commented on by a number of other students of the Word. 

It’s the idea of God dwelling with, among, his people. 

I’d like to spend a few posts tracing that idea through the Scripture. 

__________ 

We begin, of course, in Genesis, in the primeval history. The first thing we learn is that God is the author of creation; he made all things (Ge 1.1). Later in that first chapter we see him creating the first humans and distinguishing them from the other living creatures: they are in the image of God (Ge 1.26-27). In fact, rather than just speaking them into existence, as he had other living things (Ge 1.11-12, 20-21, 24-25), he intervenes personally, seemingly physically, to form Adam from the dust of the ground (Ge 2.7) and then to form Eve from one of Adam’s ribs (Ge 2.21-22). This seems much more intimate, much more personal, than the way he created the animals. Along the way we hear God give Adam and Eve dominion over all the earth (Ge 1.28), intending them to use plant life for their sustenance. 

Now, I need to deal with a misconception. I suppose this misconception was most artfully rendered in James Weldon Johnson’s God’s Trombones: 

 And God stepped out on space, 
 And he looked around and said: 
 I’m lonely — 
 I’ll make me a world. 

Johnson’s work is worthwhile reading by every American for its cultural and historical significance, its lyricism, its artistry. It is a remarkable piece of literature. 

But God was not lonely. 

God is, and always has been, completely satisfied in himself. There is no lack, no need, no shortcoming in him. 

And thus he did not need to make us. 

And yet, he wanted to. 

Why? If he didn’t need us, why did he make us at all? 

We get a tiny, possible hint shortly later in the narrative. Adam and Eve have sinned (Ge 3.6) and then tried to cover their newfound shame (Ge 3.7), and 

they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day (Ge 3.8). 

Now, we’re not told that this had been a daily practice. Perhaps God, knowing that his creatures have sinned, is coming to announce their judgment (Ge 3.16-19)—and their eventual glorious deliverance (Ge 3.15). 

But this does speak of God desiring to be in company with Adam and Eve—perhaps even to walk with them in the beauty of the Garden, to point out its delights, to savor the wonder and joy in their faces as they realize what he has given them. 

Of course, sin has changed all that. 

But even so the fellowship continues. Just two scant chapters later, we find Enoch “walk[ing] with God” (Ge 5.22), and in the next chapter, Noah doing the same thing (Ge 6.9). 

God wants to fellowship with his people, to interact with them in loving and friendly and intimate ways. 

From the beginning it has always been so. 

And as the story continues, the evidence will continue to accumulate. 

Next time, from a family to a nation.

Part 2: Covenant | Part 3: Marriage | Part 4: Turning the Page | Part 5: Forever

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On Winning the War, Part 4: The Devil  

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Part 1: Identifying the Enemy | Part 2: The World | Part 3: The Flesh 

The third front in our three-front war, according to the common saying, is “the devil.”  In the Old Testament he’s called Hasatan, the adversary; in the New, ho diabolos, the accuser (literally, the one who throws things through you). The biblical description clearly presents him as a person, someone who makes accusations (Job 1) and seeks “whom he may devour” (1P 5.8). 

There’s a lot of material in popular culture about the devil, most of it designed to get your money by scaring the daylights out of you. Dark forces, unknown evil, strange phenomena, irresistible power. At the same time, in the evangelical world there’s a lot of material on “spiritual warfare” and chanting essentially magical incantations at demonic forces. Both of these views are wrong, because both of them contradict the biblical picture of Satan and his servants. 

The biblical picture is straightforward, matter of fact, without a hint of suspense or fear. Satan exists, but he exists by God’s allowance and under his authority. He has to ask permission before he can interfere with God’s servant (Job 1-2). God’s people are to be serious about and attentive to his presence and works (1P 5.8), but we are never told to fear him; in fact the only being we are ever told to fear is God himself (1P 2.17). 

And this God can defeat Satan—indeed, he already has (Lk 10.18), and he delays Satan’s eternal destruction because of his plan, not because of any lack of power over him (Re 20.1-3, 7-10). 

So how are we supposed to defeat him in the meantime? In Peter’s passage already cited, we’re told simply to “resist him steadfast in the faith” (1P 5.9). But what does that look like? 

A key passage given us in answer to this reasonable and important question is Ephesians 6.10-18: 

10 Finally, be strong in the Lord, and in the strength of His might. 11 Put on the full armor of God, that you may be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. 13 Therefore, take up the full armor of God, that you may be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. 14 Stand firm therefore, having girded your loins with truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, 15 and having shod your feet with the preparation of the gospel of peace; 16 in addition to all, taking up the shield of faith with which you will be able to extinguish all the flaming missiles of the evil one. 17 And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18 With all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints. 

We resist him, Paul says, in the strength of God’s might, by use of “the full armor of God.” He extends this metaphor to include a number of particulars, weapons to be used both defensively and offensively. 

Defensive: 

  • Truth. This truth, of course, is found reliably only in the Scripture. Temptation should cause us to flee for refuge to the Word, where we find the truth that lays open the devil’s lies. 
  • Righteousness. As we know, we are declared righteous by God himself when we are justified—when we, as the vernacular puts it, “get saved.” From that day on, we are certainly and effectively protected. 
  • Peace. Peace, too, comes from the gospel, the good news that our great tempter is toothless because our sins, of which he truthfully accuses us, have been forgiven and dismissed from the heavenly courtroom. 
  • Faith. We trust God ongoingly because he has proved himself faithful to us, something the devil has never demonstrated himself to be. In fact, we have daily evidence that he is the father of lies. 
  • Salvation. To mix the metaphor for a moment, salvation is the umbrella over all this. Because God has rescued us, we are righteous; we have peace; we are empowered to keep believing, and we are illuminated by the Spirit to understand and apply the truth of the Scripture. 

Offensive: 

  • The Spirit. God himself, in the person of the Spirit, indwells us permanently, every day empowering us to wrestle and pin this imposing but lying impostor. We can be confident but not cocky, for we are not the powerful one in this battle. 

Victory lies around and ahead. Seize it. 

Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash

On Winning the War, Part 3: The Flesh 

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Part 1: Identifying the Enemy | Part 2: The World 

The second front in our three-front war, according to the common saying, is “the flesh.” The Bible uses this word in a couple of ways, one positive and the other negative. Sometimes the word refers to the sensitive part of us, the tender part, the living part—similarly to the way we use the expression “it cut to the quick.” Twice through the prophet Ezekiel God says, “I will take the stony heart out of their flesh, and will give them an heart of flesh” (Ezk 11.19; cf Ezk 36.26). That’s a good thing. 

But the Bible, particularly in Paul, also speaks of the flesh as the evil that lives within us (Ro 7.18)—what Paul also calls the “old man” (Ro 6.6), and what theologians refer to as the “sinful nature.” And as I’ve noted in an earlier series, John names “the lust of the flesh” as part of what characterizes the lifestyle of “the world.” 

I noted in that same earlier post that “the flesh” involves more than just sexual lust; it includes any physical desire that is inappropriate: gluttony, for example, or laziness. It’s interesting to me that all of these physical desires were given to us by God: we need food and sleep every day, and we need to reproduce for the survival of the species. They’re good things, all of them—but they make lousy gods, and they can destroy us if uncontrolled. Like fire, a useful servant but a fearful master. 

So how do we fight the flesh? Particularly since these desires are things that we ought to exercise responsibly? Are we doomed to be like the alcoholic who has one drink a day and hopes—forlornly—that he can control it? 

Not at all. The key to controlling the flesh, like the key to controlling physical addiction, is health—physical health for the addict, and spiritual health for the worshiper of the flesh. A helpful passage, I think, is Galatians 5.16-26: 

16 But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh. 17 For the flesh sets its desire against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; for these are in opposition to one another, so that you may not do the things that you please. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the Law. 19 Now the deeds of the flesh are evident, which are: immorality, impurity, sensuality, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, outbursts of anger, disputes, dissensions, factions, 21 envying, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these, of which I forewarn you just as I have forewarned you that those who practice such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God. 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. 24 Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also walk by the Spirit. 26 Let us not become boastful, challenging one another, envying one another. 

Here’s how that works: 

  • Recognize the fact of victory (Ga 5.16). We do not need to lose this battle; indeed, it has already been won (Ro 7.24-8.1). Many are discouraged that their struggle with the flesh is ongoing; but on the contrary, that struggle is a good sign. It indicates that the Spirit is doing his convicting work and conforming you, bit by bit, to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18). It indicates a tender heart, a “heart of flesh,” rather than a hardened one. 
  • Be led by the Spirit (Ga 5.18). This is simply sanctification, or growth in grace. It’s the result of spiritual exercise through absorbing the Scripture, wrestling in prayer, and actively fellowshipping with other believers. Filling one’s mind with God’s thoughts will help drive out one’s own—or rather, transform them (Ro 12.2) from self-focused to outward- and upward-focused. 

It’s a long haul, and it requires faithfulness. But victory is certain, in God’s good time. 

Next time: dealing with the devil. 

Photo by Henry Hustava on Unsplash

On Winning the War, Part 2: The World

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Part 1: Identifying the Enemy 

So we’re fighting a three-front war—something no one’s likely to win without divine power. Let’s take a look at the first enemy, the world. 

I wrote some on this just a few posts ago, focusing primarily on definitional matters. Here I’d like to focus on how to fight so as to win. I think a key biblical source on this question is John’s first epistle. 

The Right Family 

I’d suggest that the essential requirement for this fight is being in the right family (or to continue the military metaphor, the right army); without this identity and the power it conveys, all is lost. John writes, 

For whatever is born of God overcomes the world; and this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith (1J 5.4). 

To be effective in battle, a soldier has to be alive. In the spiritual battle against the combined forces of the world as organized in opposition to God, the spiritually dead have no hope. 

But to be spiritually alive, a member of God’s family—now that equips and mobilizes a person for spiritual warfare. And John identifies the impetus for spiritual life: faith. 

The biblical authors are agreed on this. Paul writes, “By grace are you saved, through faith—and that not of yourselves” (Ep 2.8). Peter writes of “the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls” (1P 1.9). The author to the Hebrews states, “Without faith it is impossible to please [God]” (He 11.6). 

Faith is simply trusting God to forgive your sins on the basis of Christ’s death on your behalf (Ro 3.21.28). 

How do you know if you’re in? 

Well, there are actually several signs of that, but let me focus on just one: your attitude toward sin will change. Whereas you once loved your sin, you now see it accurately as your enemy, the destroyer of your soul. And you turn from it. The Bible calls that “repentance.” You won’t completely stop sinning—in my opinion that’s impossible this side of the grave—but your attitude toward sin will change, and you’ll fight against it. As time goes on and you gain fighting experience, you’ll get better at the fight, but you’ll be attitudinally on board from the very beginning (1J 3.9). 

The Right Focus 

Any combat veteran will tell you that to succeed in battle, you have to pay attention. Focus is absolute. 

Just after identifying faith as the key in the verse quoted above (1J 5.4), John writes, 

And who is the one who overcomes the world, but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God? (1J 5.5). 

As a believer, you keep your focus on Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, because he is the one we follow, we serve. He is the battlefield commander, and following his orders certainly eventuates in victory. Why is that? Because Jesus, as God, is all-powerful and cannot be defeated. 

You are from God, little children, and have overcome them; because greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world (1J 4.4). 

In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world (Jn 16.33). 

To win this fight, every soldier needs to concentrate on Christ, study him, learn him. Everything else is a distraction. 

Focusing on Christ will also enable you to focus on the long-term rather than the short-term. The English poet William Wordsworth wrote, “The world is too much with us.” It fills our peripheral vision with distractions, like the mobile over a baby’s crib, and we’re tempted to fritter away our limited lifetime on passing, temporary things: stuff, applause, pop culture, and a host of other trivia. 

When your mind is focused on the eternal—most especially, likeness to the image of Christ (2Co 3.18)—the flashing neon roadside signs seem dim and worthless. Like an experienced driver, you focus down the road, taking in the whole scene and driving responsibly, safely, effectively, arriving at your destination, which was the whole point of being on the road in the first place. 

Focus. It will enable you to defeat your enemy the world. 

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On Winning the War, Part 1: Identifying the Enemy

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The Scripture often uses military language for the Christian life. Most famously, I suppose, Paul describes the “armor” (lit. “panoply”) of the Christian warrior, supplied by God for both defense and offense (Ep 6.13-17). Christians who take a more pacifist approach to life (e.g. Quakers, Mennonites, and others) are sometimes troubled by other Christians who emphasize this language; I had a high school teacher who mocked the hymn “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” particularly the line “marching off to war.” (Incidentally, the music typically used for that hymn was composed by Arthur Sullivan, of “Gilbert and Sullivan” fame.) My high school years were during the Vietnam era, with its accompanying protests, and my teacher was on the antiwar side. I note that the decades since have muddied the war/antiwar lines, with both the political left and the political right divided over US interventionism, as currently embodied in the Russia-Ukraine conflict. 

But that’s off the point; sorry. 

There’s certainly no question that the Bible uses military language, and not just in reporting conflicts in Israelite history, but also in noting the Lord’s active direction in those military exploits (e.g. Jos 8.1-29) and in applying the military metaphor to the Christian’s experience in the world (e.g. 1Ti 6.12). 

God expects us to fight. 

Against whom? 

I note that while God indeed instructed the armies of Israel to fight against—and destroy—the Canaanite tribes (he gives the reason for that in his words to Abraham in Ge 15.16), and while he strengthened various kings of Israel in their military conquests against Israel’s neighbors, after the theocracy the Scripture seems uninterested in fighting political opponents. Jesus, for example, repeatedly refused to take on the Zealots’ cause against Rome (Jn 6.15), even though he allowed his followers to call him king (e.g. Jn 1.49; Lk 19.38) and willingly died under the charge that he was “King of the Jews” (Jn 19.3, 14, 19). There’s a theological reason for that, of course: Jesus’ purpose in his first coming was not to overthrow earthly kingdoms—physically—but to die for sin and to rise again, defeating death. But I also note that after Christ’s ascension, Paul commands submission to earthly powers (Ro 13.1-7), even when the emperor at the time was Nero. He does not hint at attacking, let alone overthrowing, even corrupt and unjust governments. 

I conclude, then, that when the Bible uses military language about the Christian life, those passages are not talking about political fights. (Obvious disclaimer: of course we ought to use our God-given rights to oppose evil in society, among other ways, by engaging in political activity.) 

So what enemy or enemies are these passages talking about? Paul’s “armor” passage names the devil specifically (Ep 6.11), and John focuses in his first epistle on “the world” (1J 2.15-17), right after he has referred to “the wicked one” (1J 2.14). And in his characterization of the world, he speaks specifically of “the lust of the flesh” (1J 2.16). 

It’s no surprise, then, that our battle is routinely described as one against “the world, the flesh, and the devil.” Some people are surprised to learn that that phrase doesn’t actually appear in the Bible, though as we’ve demonstrated, the concept is solidly biblically based. 

We’re not sure where the particular wording came from; the earliest use of it I can find is by Peter Abelard (AD 1079-1142), a French philosopher and theologian. He wrote extensively, including a series of “Expositions,” including “An Exposition on the Lord’s Prayer.” (I haven’t been able to find the text of this in English online, so no link; sorry.) 

On the prayer’s sixth petition (“deliver us from evil”), he writes, “There are three things that tempt us: the flesh, the world, and the devil.” 

And we’ve liked that summary ever since. The Catholic Church included it in the Canons of the Council of Trent (Sixth Session, Chapter 13), and the Litany of the Anglican Book of Common Prayer includes it as well (“From fornicacion, and all other deadlye synne, and from al the deceytes of the worlde, the fleshe, and the devil”). (That’s the 1549 edition.) 

It’s a good formulation that has stood the test of time. I’d like to spend a few posts meditating on it. 

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On Danger, Fear, and God’s Care

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We all face challenges. Some people face genuine dangers from genuine enemies. And most of them face fear. 

God doesn’t experience any of these things. He faces nothing that could be described as a challenge to his omnipotence, and though he has powerful enemies, he is greater than them all, and their defeat is sure. And consequently, he is never afraid. 

So how does someone like that respond to someone like us? Does he understand challenge, and enemies, and fear? Does he care? 

King David, who had plenty of challenges and enemies and fears, had some thoughts on that in many of his writings. Today I choose to consider Psalm 6. 

David is facing a fearsome trial. He mentions physical issues (Ps 6.2), but I’m inclined to think his real concern is “enemies” (Ps 6.7). He clearly thinks his life is in danger (Ps. 6.5). 

And so he meditates and writes out his thoughts. 

The Psalm has three sections. He begins by presenting his appeal to God (Ps 6.1-5); then he lays out the anguish that his situation is causing (Ps 6.6-7); and then he finishes by describing the assurance he has in God’s care and deliverance (Ps 6.8-10). 

Appeal (Ps 6.1-5) 

David begins by admitting—implicitly—that God has reason to be angry with him (Ps 6.1). He doesn’t go into detail. Here we see someone who is in the same situation we are: we need deliverance by God’s hand, but we know we don’t come to him from a position of strength. We need grace; we need mercy (Ps 6.2). 

David’s situation is desperate; he expresses himself in broken phrases, in grunts (Ps 6.3). Interestingly, Jesus appears to use David’s words as he prays in the Garden of Gethsemane (Jn 12.27) before his arrest, trial, and crucifixion. 

David asks God to “turn” to him, as if he had turned away for some reason (Ps 6.4). The Hebrew word is shub, a word commonly used for turning from sin in repentance (e.g. Is 30.15; 44.22; 55.7). David asks God to change his mind. 

He cites two motivations for God to deliver him: God’s “mercies” (Ps 6.4), or hesed, and his glory (Ps 6.5)—that is, the thanksgiving he will receive for acting to deliver. 

Is that an appeal to some selfish motive in God? I don’t think so. First, God’s glory, unlike ours, is something actually deserved and appropriate; God is not like his limited creatures. And second, is there anything wrong with enjoying being thanked? Don’t we like to be thanked when we do something for someone we love? Is it selfish to revel in someone else’s joy? 

Anguish (Ps 6.6-7) 

David lays out the evidences of his anguish, which in turn is evidence of the seriousness of the danger he faces. 

  • He is exhausted by the constant pressure of the situation (Ps 6.6a). 
  • He weeps through the night (Ps 6.6b) 
  • His perspective is colored—poisoned—by the stress of the situation (Ps 6.7). 

Assurance (Ps 6.8-10)  

During his prayer, David receives assurance that the Lord has heard him and will answer (Ps 6.8-9). We don’t know exactly how this worked; it may be as simple as his believing God’s earlier promises to hear the prayers of his people (Ex 22.27), or knowing God’s character well enough to anticipate similar future promises (Is 65.24; Zec 13.9). 

For whatever reason, David knows. And so he begins to address his enemies directly, and he flips the situation against them. At the beginning of his prayer, he is the one who is deeply troubled (Ps 6.2); but now, his enemies find themselves in that situation (Ps 6.10). Earlier, he has asked God to turn, to change (Ps. 6.4); but now, he calls on his enemies to turn and change (Ps 6.10), with the same verb he used of God earlier. 

So what do we see here? 

  • God’s people call on him when they are afraid. 
  • He hears, even when they don’t “deserve” it. 
  • And he answers by reversing the situation, judging his enemies, and protecting his people. 

Timely advice whenever we’re afraid. 

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On Veterans’ Day

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This year Veterans’ Day falls on a Monday, which is a regular posting day for me. 

Here in the US we’re often reminded that Armed Forces Day (May 18 this year) is when we honor those who are currently serving in the military, while Memorial Day (May 27 this year) is when we honor those who have died while serving—those who have given “the last full measure of devotion,” in President Lincoln’s memorable words at Gettysburg. Veterans’ Day, though, is when we honor any who have served. It always falls on November 11, the date of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I in 1918. Originally called Armistice Day, it received its new name in 1954, due, I assume, to the fact that we now had veterans of two World Wars to honor. 

I tried to serve in the military but was turned down for an Air Force ROTC scholarship because I failed the flight physical due to a bum ear. That was a great disappointment, but I’ve noted that in God’s plan it was for the best. 

My Dad served in the Army, and my brother in the Navy; his two boys both graduated from Service Academies and served in the Army and Navy respectively. 

I have always appreciated those who were able to serve, in any capacity. I’m posting here today a slight revision of something I posted on Facebook several years ago. 

_______________ 

Atop a bookcase in my office sits a plain triangular wooden case with a glass front. Behind the glass is a triangle of blue covered with white stars. I’ve had visitors to my office remark somberly that they know what it is.  

And you probably know too. It’s an American flag, folded to the required triangular shape, field out, and given to the family of a veteran, usually at his graveside.  

This one was given by the USA—officially by President Obama at the time—to my family in appreciation for my father’s service in the US  Army near the end of World War II. My older sisters kindly decided that I should have it.  

I’m first a citizen of a higher country, an eternal one (Php 3.20), but I am grateful for the providence of God that has allowed me to be a citizen of this one. With all its flaws, and they are many because its people are many, the nation has been overwhelmingly good to me and to millions of others.  

I’ve been privileged to travel to many other countries, all of which I love and appreciate, and I have rejoiced for people I know and love while standing respectfully during their national anthems and Independence Day celebrations. God has been good to them, too, because that’s who He is.  

But I like mine the best. And I’m moved that some of my fellow citizens have freely given themselves— “the last full measure of devotion”—so I could experience all the reasons that enable me to say that. I will never fail to remember and treasure their priceless gift.  

And perhaps someday I’ll be able to tell many of them in person. Forever.  

Photo by chris robert on Unsplash

On Faith and Culture, Part 6: The Big Idea 

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Flexible Evangelism | Part 3: Drawing the Line 1 | Part 4: Drawing the Line 2 | Part 5: Choosing Wisely 

When we’re making these difficult decisions about our relationship to a new culture—or even to the one we know best—it’s wise to keep the Big Idea in mind. That Big Idea, of course, is the biblical metanarrative—the story of God’s working out his plan for the world and all who are in it. 

To begin with, God creates mankind in his image and gives him dominion over a creation that is “very good” (Ge 1.31). But due to Adam’s sin, creation is marred, and the image is distorted. 

As he had always planned, the Creator sets out to restore his image and the beauty of his creation. He chooses a line of humans to eventuate in a Deliverer, whom he anoints as prophet, priest, and king. And that Deliverer restores the image by living a life that provides positive righteousness to all who believe, and then by dying a death that pays sin’s penalty for all who will come. 

And then he begins to gather a people who will praise his name. He invites “the Jew first,” but he inaugurates a new body, the church, to erase national and ethnic boundaries. These diverse peoples will gather weekly to look one another in the face and exercise their gifts for the betterment of them all. 

In his epistle most closely associated with this concept, Ephesians, Paul begins by announcing the elements of God’s work of salvation (Ep 1) and then the radical effects of salvation: loving unity between former enemies—first, God and man (Ep 2.1-13) and then Jews and Gentiles (Ep 2.14-22). And then, the aim and purpose of it all: the glory of God (Ep 3.10). 

And here we slow down dramatically in our storytelling. Paul says he has a “dispensation”—a commission, a stewardship, a trust—from God, who has entrusted him with the message of the gospel to the Gentiles. He has been faithful to that trust; after multiple missionary journeys across the Roman Empire, he returns to Jerusalem, where he is arrested as a troublemaker at the very mention of the Gentiles (Ac 22.21). And he was in Jerusalem specifically to bring a monetary gift from the Gentile church to the predominantly Jewish church in Jerusalem—to act out the very unity that he has been preaching. 

This “dispensation” is to “gather together in one all things in Christ” (Ep 1.10). It was no surprise that Gentiles would eventually worship the God of Israel; God’s covenant with Abraham had noted that in him “all nations of the earth would be blessed” (Ge 12.3), and the prophets had detailed the coming of all nations to the Temple in Jerusalem (Is 2.1-4; 27.12-13). 

But that Gentiles would enter the kingdom not by converting to Judaism, but with equal standing—that was new revelation (Ep 3.6). 

In all of this, God would be glorified 

  • Through his unsearchable riches (Ep 3.7-8) 
  • Through his eternal plan (Ep 3.9) 
  • Through his manifold wisdom 
    • Exhibited to the angels (Ep 3.10) 
    • And experienced by the church (Ep 3.11-12) 

This new body, the church, is united across all cultural boundaries because it is rooted and grounded in love (Ep 3.14-17) and unified in their apprehension (Ep 3.18)—because they are all united perfectly with the Father (Ep 3.19). 

This will most surely come to pass, despite all the things that fragment our fellowship today. God’s plan is that this be revealed in, through, and by the church. May we all be part of that fulfillment. 

Photo by Joseph Grazone on Unsplash