Dan Olinger

Change, Part 2: Sovereign, Attentive, and Good

October 11, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I’ve proposed using the Old Testament account of Joshua’s succession of Moses as a pattern for us as we face a rapidly and significantly changing world. I suppose I should justify that.

Of course there are differences between our situation and that of Joshua 1:

What we’re facing is not just a change of leadership.
We’re not emerging from a lifetime of stability in leadership.
We’re not Israel. (And no, this isn’t about dispensationalism. :-) )
God hasn’t given special revelation as to who our leaders should be.

But there are also similarities:

We are a people of God. (I’m speaking here of the church, not the USA or any other political entity.)
We are in covenant with God, whose covenant loyalty (Heb hesed, steadfast, loving loyalty) “endures forever” (Ps 136 and often elsewhere).
We are in a time of significant change.

And as Paul tells us (1Co 10.6), the Old Testament accounts were written as examples for us.

So what did God say to Joshua in his time of transition? And what do those words tell us about God and His plans for us? In this series I’d like to suggest three statements about God in his words to Joshua, and three things he asks us to do in response.

1. God is great, and he is in charge.

In fact, he is in charge because he is great.

God says to Joshua,

My servant Moses is dead. Now proceed to cross the Jordan, you and all this people, into the land that I am giving to them, to the Israelites (Jos 1.2).

God begins by calling Moses “my servant.” Now, Moses was the most powerful human these people had ever known. He had faced down Pharaoh and forced him to let his Israelite slaves go. He had held his rod over the Red Sea and parted it, allowing the millions of Israelites to pass through safely and then drowning the most powerful army in the world. For 40 years he had provided for their needs and answered their questions in circumstances that could have turned fatal on them in days. He had led them militarily through hostile territory east of the Jordan.

And he’s just a servant? How powerful must his master and commander be?!

By implication, Joshua—and all the people—are also God’s servants, who must obey His orders. And to make the point, he immediately gives them an order: “Proceed to cross the Jordan.”

The narrative will later tell us (Jos 3.15) that the Jordan is at flood stage during this season. I’ve seen significant rivers that have swelled out of their banks during a flood, and it’s a frightening sight. Your first instinct is not to step out into it. Again, we’ll soon learn that when the people obey, the river will withdraw from them, just as the Red Sea had a generation earlier (Jos 3.16).

So God had graciously already provided them with a basis for courage. He wasn’t asking for blind faith and slavish obedience; he was gently saying, “We’ve been through this before; you know I can bring you through.”

That was 1400 years before the birth of Jesus. How much more evidence do we, living more than 3400 years later, have of God’s power, faithfulness, and tender care? What other evidences do we find in the rest of the Old Testament, the New Testament, and the lives of God’s people in all the years since the last apostle laid down his pen for the last time?

Why are we unsettled? Why are we afraid? Why are we frustrated and angry, lashing out and calling names?

Why do we post things like “Joe Biden wasn’t elected. He was installed. Like a toilet.”?!

What kind of weak, inattentive God do we think we have?

God will stop the flow of the Jordan the moment the priests step into it (Jos 3.15-16). He can do that; he’s in charge. This is the God we serve.

No, God doesn’t always stop the flow of rivers he asks us to cross. But he can. That’s the point. And he will take us through, flood stage or dry riverbed.

Part 3: Promise Keeper | Part 4: Present | Part 5: Trust | Part 6: Obedience | Part 7: Meditation

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Change, Part 1: Introduction

October 7, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I hear a lot of talk—and a lot of fear and anger and frustration—about social change. Things aren’t the way they used to be, and a lot of people find the situation deeply troubling.

Things always change; that’s a fact of life. Most of us have the experience of going back to a familiar place—a house, a school, a church, an employer—and noticing that while the physical plant is largely the same, we no longer know any of the people. The disconnect is jarring.

But broader cultural changes, driven by technology, by societal mores, by artistic expression, by a thousand other things, are even more unsettling. When the whole world changes, there are no familiar places to go back to.

The sense of dislocation is exacerbated by the indisputable fact that the pace of change is accelerating. I realized a few years back that when my father was born in 1918 in a homestead ranch cabin on the Western frontier, daily life was largely unchanged from life in Jesus’ time—or even Abraham’s. You got water from a well or a river; you grew your own food, using animals to do the most difficult physical labor; you cooked that food over a fire; you walked or rode carts pulled by animals; you did your excretory business in a hole in the ground a little ways off from the house.

Dad lived to be 90. In that one lifespan, he saw pretty much everything that’s changed since the ancient world. He rode in an automobile; he helped build highways; he rode and worked on trains, both coal-fired and diesel electric; he helped build Grand Coulee Dam; he learned to fly airplanes; he worked in newspaper publishing from the days of hot lead Linotype to digital; and with a little help from his son, he navigated on Google Earth to see the old homestead on Sandy Creek, just upriver from Salmon, Idaho.

All in one lifetime.

And in the mere decade and a half since, what social, cultural, medical, and financial changes have occurred!

Some people feel like we’re accelerating headlong toward a precipice, uncontrolled and uncontrollably.

And on the heels of such thoughts inevitably come fear, despair, desperation, rage.

My brethren, these things ought not so to be.

We forget—so easily—that there is providence: that there is a God, who is mighty and wise and loving, who directs all things—even things like the Babylonian and Roman destructions of Jerusalem, even things like wars and pandemics and famines and corruption as deep as we can imagine—he directs all things to his own good ends and the benefit of his people.

Nothing is headlong; nothing is uncontrolled; nothing is cause for existential despair.

And if nothing on such a macroscopic scale should bring despair, then what about those narrower, more personal changes and challenges? Should we lose hope when our own lives take difficult turns, change in unexpected, undesirable, and indecipherable ways?

There are many accounts of significant changes in the biblical narrative. I suppose the death of Jesus was the most significant—and even there we find that it was not only part of God’s plan, but it was in fact at the very center of that plan. We wonder, here in hindsight, why those thick-headed disciples just didn’t get it.

Of the many other examples, I’d like to focus on just one.

Moses was a leader for the ages. Specially selected (Ex 3) and then empowered by God, he brought the mightiest ruler in the world of that day to his knees through a series of miraculous plagues, then organized perhaps 2 million people for travel, then parted the Red Sea, brought water out of a desert rock, and saw to their organized government under unimaginably contrary conditions during 40 years of wandering the desert.

And then, over a century old, he brought them through hostile territories to the edge of Canaan, the promised land. The new generation and the new army were about to take on the Canaanite peoples who had so frightened their parents.

Time to get busy and get this thing done.

But wait.

Moses isn’t coming. In fact, he’s dead.

The new leader is Joshua, someone with no chief executive experience, with little military command experience.

How is this going to work?

I’d like to spend a few posts thinking about how God handled this transition.

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 5: A Sound Mind

October 4, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Facing a Giant | Part 2: No Panic | Part 3: Power | Part 4: Love

When we’re facing something intimidating, God hasn’t given us a spirit that panics and runs away; rather, he gives us a set of gifts that empower us to do the opposite: to move confidently ahead to take on the challenge. The first of those gifts is strength, or power; why panic if you can take the guy? The second is love, which frees you from fearing the personal consequences of the outcome: what happens to others is of more consequence to you than what happens to you.

The third and final gift is “a sound mind” (KJV), or “sound judgment” (CSB), “discipline” (NASB), “self discipline” (NIV), “self-control” (ESV). Admittedly, those alleged “synonyms” cover a lot of territory; we’re looking at a lot of possible nuances.

We should probably start with the underlying Greek word and work our way out. The word is sophronismos, a noun apparently derived from sophos, “wise,” and phren, “understanding.” It occurs only here in the New Testament, but the related verb, sophroneo, occurs 6 times, of which 3 speak of mental health or sanity (twice of the maniac of Gadara [Mk 5.15; Lk 8.35] and once of Paul as a self-reference [2Co 5.13]), and 3 (Ro 12.3; Ti 2.6; 1P 4.7) speak of wisdom, or “self-control over one’s passions and desires,” as one lexicon puts it. Not long after Paul wrote 2 Timothy, Clement, the bishop of Rome, wrote in an epistle to the Corinthian church that the Corinthian women were managing “the affairs of their household in seemliness, with all discretion” (1Clement 1.3), and Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, wrote to the Philippian church that “our widows must be sober-minded concerning the faith of the Lord” (PPhil 4.3).

So this has to do with clear thinking—not so much raw intelligence, but the ability to analyze a problem and to come up with a practical solution.

I had an uncle like that. His name was Clarence, but everybody called him Red, and family called him Hooligan. As a boy I actually thought that was his name, until a teacher looked at me oddly when I referred to “my Uncle Hooligan.” Red dropped out of school after the third grade, I think it was, and went to work doing whatever he could that was reasonably age appropriate. He spent most of his adult life in construction and excelled at it. My Dad spoke almost reverently of his ability to look at a construction problem and just know, apparently intuitively, what the solution was. When he worked with trusses, it appeared to Dad that Red, the third-grade dropout, was doing trigonometry in his head.

I suspect that his skill was a combination of natural ability and lots of experience.

But we have something far more powerful—a divine gift, designed to enable us to see an intimidating problem through to a successful solution. Even beyond that, this is self-discipline; it’s good judgment; it’s moderation. It’s what a drug addict or an alcoholic doesn’t have. In short, it’s the ability to direct your own behavior, the ability to not be out of control.

You are not at the mercy of your own temperament, or your own personality, or your own weaknesses.

Maybe you’re “not a people person”; maybe you’ve always been shy.

Maybe you’re not intellectually gifted and can’t engage in witty repartee. Maybe, like me, you don’t have a natural sense of compassion that spurs you to take a genuine interest in the lives and difficulties of others.

These characteristics do not control you; God has given you the ability to do what He asks, even if you can’t—even if you have no natural ability.

God has given you the ability to choose to do His will.

And when you put all these gifts together, intimidation loses its greatest power. It can make you afraid, but it cannot make you flee the field; it cannot make you collapse in spiritual exhaustion; it cannot make you escape by turning within yourself; it cannot leave you without workable answers.

Exercising these gifts well may take practice and thus time. But the gifts are there.

We ought to use them.

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 4: Love

September 30, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Facing a Giant | Part 2: No Panic | Part 3: Power

God’s second gift to the intimidated is perhaps a surprise. If I’m facing a situation that might provoke cowardice, then it makes sense for God to give me power. I can put that to use right away.

But love? Seriously? What’s love got to do with it?

It may help if we begin by defining our terms.

We’ve all heard that there are 4 Greek words for love. C. S. Lewis even wrote a book about them. They’re usually presented this way:

Eros is physical, sexual love.
Storge is the love of people who are like you.
Philia is natural, brotherly love.
Agape is divine love.

As usual, it’s not necessarily like this. For starters, Greek, like English, has multiple words for love, but the exact number depends on your presuppositions about what qualifies as love. Some people suggest 4; some suggest 6; some suggest 7; and a diligent use of a thesaurus, or a resource like Louw and Nida’s Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament Based on Semantic Domains, might yield any number of justifiable synonyms.

Further, in no language, including Greek, do words work like this—neatly classifiable into clearly distinct categories. Sometimes synonyms are just, well, synonyms that can be used pretty much interchangeably. In this case, for example, God is not restricted to agape love; Jesus said that the Father has philia for the Son (Jn 5.20).

Perhaps you’ve heard it said that philia is a natural affection, while agape is an act of the will. As evidence, it’s noted that agapao appears in the imperative, implying that it’s something we can choose to do. Trouble is, phileo appears in the imperative too, 29 times in the New Testament, in the Gospels, the Epistles, and Revelation.

We really need to pay attention to context and not be mechanistic about assigning nuances. Because we’re in the image of God, we’re creative, and we use our words creatively; they are not confined to a single meaning. Nobody uses language like that; I don’t, and neither do you.

So.

The word here in 2 Timothy 1.7 is agape. But because it appears in a list, without much in the way of context—other than that it’s something God gifts to us in situations where one might expect cowardice—we’re not going to be able to make any hard distinctions about why Paul used this word for love and not one of the other ones.

Our time would be spent more profitably meditating on the core question I asked at the beginning of this essay—why does God give us love when we’re intimidated? What’s the point?

And is this God’s love for us, or our love for him, or our love for others?

Here I think the context helps us. There are two other items in the list, and we can expect them to be used in parallel. Power is something given to us to exercise in the intimidating situation. By the grace of God, it resides in us. Similarly, a sound mind—we haven’t talked about that yet—also resides in the person to help him address the situation.

So I’d suggest that this is love that resides in us, that we exercise to respond to the intimidation. Yes, it comes to us from God, as do the other two items, but at the point of application it’s something that we exercise.

Love for whom? Do we succeed in intimidating circumstances because we love God, or because we love others?

I’d suggest that it’s our love for others that makes us effective in intimidating circumstances, in two ways:

We’re not cowed into silence by our desire to be thought well of; John Stott writes, “Since he is the Spirit of love we must use God’s authority and power in serving others, not in self-assertion or vainglory.”
We’re empowered to overcome the hostility we face by showing grace and mercy in return. “This love is not so much a love that produces ministry as a love that conquers contempt and opposition by forgiveness and refusal to seek revenge” (NAC).

God has given you the ability to place the needs of others ahead of your own, thereby reducing the power of their opposition and the personal stake you have in “winning.” Love is a liberating thing, freeing you from fear and freeing you to go for victory.

Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 3: Power

September 26, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Facing a Giant | Part 2: No Panic

When, like Timothy, you’re facing a challenge that seems too big for you, it’s helpful to know that there’s no need to panic, because our Father has not given us a panicking kind of spirit.

But it’s also helpful to know what he has given us. Paul specifies three gifts from an omnipotent, gracious, knowledgeable, and sympathetic Father. The first of these is power.

God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2Ti 1.7).

There are two common Greek words for power. One means “authority”; it’s the word used in Mt 28.18—“All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.” It’s also used in Jn 1.12—“to them gave he power to become the sons of God.” That’s not the word used here, but it’s worth noting that we do have divine authority, for the reasons specified in these two verses. Our commission to go and make disciples (Mt 28.19-20) comes directly from Jesus, who does have all the authority in heaven and in earth; and because his work has made us sons of God, we carry princely authority whenever we pursue his will.

But, as noted, the word translated “power” in 2Timothy 1.7 is the other word, the word that means “might” or “strength.” As you’ve often been told, it’s the word from which we get our word dynamite—though, as has often been noted (see, e.g., D. A. Carson, Exegetical Fallacies), you probably should ignore that fact, because since dynamite hadn’t been invented in biblical times, it has no impact whatsoever on our understanding of the biblical text.

Very commonly in the New Testament it’s used as one of the three Greek words for miracles. There’s signs, which emphasizes the meaning of the miracle—they’re not just done to entertain us, you know—and wonders, which emphasizes the effect on the eyewitnesses, and then miracles, which is our word, often translated “mighty works,” which emphasizes the power of the miracle-worker. (The three terms are used together in Acts 2.22, 2Corinthians 12.12, Hebrews 2.4.)

Interestingly, though the word power in Matthew’s record of the Great Commission is not this word, Luke’s rendering of the same commission in Acts does include it:

But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth (Ac 1.8).

Luke had earlier noted Jesus’ promise to his disciples that this power would come upon them:

And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high (Lk 24.49).

And Paul prays for the Ephesian believers that they will “be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man” (Ep 3.16). Same word.

This is something we have. It is the strength supplied by God, manifested in us. It’s an irresistible force, an unstoppable strength; it’s the arm of the Almighty, the raw power evidenced everywhere in his creation.

In fulfillment of Jesus’ promise at the Great Commission, it’s the power that was poured out on the disciples at Pentecost, the power that turned the world upside down (Ac 17.6).

It’s what you need to get things done.

And God has given it to you.

God has given you the strength to do the hard thing, the thing that looks impossible, even though you’re “just not that kind of person.”

As long as your efforts are in the will of God, the strength is there to accomplish them.

Part 4: Love | Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 2: No Panic

September 23, 2021 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Facing a Giant

As he commissions “son Timothy” (1Ti 1.18) to a daunting task—one likely overwhelming to his timid constitution—Paul begins, surprisingly, by noting what God has not given him—and us. He’ll get to what he has given us in a moment.

But God’s “stinginess” is important to our success. He has not given us a spirit of fear.

For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2Ti 1.7).

This is not the usual word for fear (phobos); using that more common word, God has often reminded us that although we should not fear other people (Dt 31.3-6), we most certainly should fear Him (Dt 31.12-13); as Jesus put it,

Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell (Mt 10.28).

So it would not be true for God to say that He has not given us a spirit that is able to fear, for He has. Fear can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on its object and its justifiability.

This word means something different. As the NRSV, which I’ve quoted here, makes obvious, this is the word for “cowardice”—being controlled by fear to the point that you cannot or will not do the things that you should.

Nobody likes a coward. We glorify heroes, because they do more than we expect; but we will not tolerate a coward. We don’t ask him to be a hero; we simply ask that he do right despite his fear.

Some years ago, I had the opportunity to participate in an exercise with the Greenville County Sheriff’s Office’s SWAT team. They wanted some practice clearing a fairly complex building in a terrorist scenario, and they asked for some volunteers to play the terrorists.

Well, of course.

The deputies and the volunteers met in a room and went over the procedures. Each of the volunteers was issued a handgun and blank rounds and instructed on various limits to the exercise. Then they took us to the building and told us to go inside, position ourselves however we liked, and in 30 minutes they’d be coming in.

Some of my fellow terrorists set up hostage scenarios to complicate the deputies’ situation. I decided to go off by myself. Found a room, evaluated hiding places, and eventually decided just to wait for them inside the door.

Counted my rounds. Seven. OK.

Something this SWAT team did surprised me: stealth was not on the menu.

They came in the end door of the building with a crash, a wave of shouting, and a volley of flash-bangs.

There was no doubt that they had arrived.

Then they began working methodically down the hall in my direction, coordinating movements, pronouncing rooms “Clear!” and moving precisely as planned.

It occurred to me that in a measurable number of minutes, they were going to arrive at my location—and dispose of me. Let me tell you, that was really intimidating. I was terrified.

Even in a simulation.

As they got close, I fired down the hall, and I’m proud to say that I stopped them briefly. But then I made a fatal mistake: I neglected to count my shots. On the eighth trigger pull, the “click” brought the shout “He’s out!” and down came Sennacherib’s Assyrian hordes on my little walled city.

I was surprised, on reflection, at how scared I was, even though I knew that this was make-believe and that these burly brutes weren’t going to hurt me.

Sooner or later, we all come face to face with the fact of our fear. We’re afraid of physical danger, of course, but we’re also afraid of less physical things. We’re afraid of rejection; we’re afraid of failure; we’re afraid of biblical confrontation; we’re afraid of saying the wrong thing at funerals. I’m afraid, and so are you.

But God has not given us a spirit of cowardice; He hasn’t given us a spirit that bails out in a crisis.

God has not given us a spirit that stops short of doing what we must do. Even when we’re afraid.

Part 3: Power | Part 4: Love | Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 1: Facing a Giant

September 20, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

“It’s just too much!”

We hear people say that. Sometimes we say it ourselves. Sometimes we face a problem, or a frustration, or an opposition that just seems to overwhelm us.

I had an experience like that recently.

I’m not a mechanical person—mostly because I just don’t want to be. If there’s a problem with the car, or the house, or whatever, I’d rather pay somebody else, who knows what he’s doing, to fix it than put the time and energy into doing it myself.

A while back my riding mower broke down, right in the middle of my mowing the lawn—but then, when else would it? This was beyond my knowledge set, and I made plans to take it to a shop and have it fixed.

But no one would work on it. They’re swamped; they can’t get parts lately; they don’t work on this model.

Nobody wanted my money.

Well, Dan, you’re just gonna have to knuckle down and figure out how to fix it yourself.

It took a while—longer than it would have if the guy with the wrench had known what he was doing—but I’m happy to say it’s back to its old self again, and I have all my fingers as well as my sanctification.

Thank you, YouTube.

Over the decades I’ve faced bigger problems, longer-lasting ones, intimidating ones. And so have you. Since my life has really been relatively easy, chances are you’ve faced bigger ones than I have. I know that’s true for many of my friends.

A situation comes along that you just don’t know how to deal with. You don’t have the knowledge, you don’t have the strength, you don’t have the focus, you don’t have the emotional stability.

It’s all just too much.

There’s a discussion on social media these days over whether God ever gives you more than you can handle. I think the disagreement is largely a matter of definition—what does “more than you can handle” mean?

We do have Paul’s famous observation that everything that comes your way has been allowed—filtered, if you will—by God, and that there is a way of escape (1Co 10.13), though it may be difficult to find. We have Paul’s further assertion that all things eventuate well (Ro 8.28)—though many have observed that quoting that verse at the moment of crisis is not always the best pastoral care.

But when those hard challenges come, where do we turn? What’s in our toolbox? Where’s the instructional video?

There are several instances in the Scripture where God’s people faced significant challenges. We all know about David and Goliath (1Sa 17.40-54), and Joshua’s commission (Jos 1.1-9), and Solomon’s (1K 2.1-4), and Jesus’ farewell address to his disciples (Jn 14-16).

I think we can find some useful information in a lesser-known event, another transition.

Paul’s ministry is a wonder to behold. He achieved astonishing things in his few decades of service to Christ, moving the gospel from its first location outside Israel—Antioch (Ac 13.1-3)—to the extent of the Roman Empire, the world of his day. He planted successful churches all across Turkey (Ac 13.4-16.10), all across Greece (Ac 16.11-18.18), up into modern-day Albania (Ro 15.19), the length of Cyprus (Ac 13.4-12) and Crete (Ti 1.5), and (I’m quite sure) across Spain as well. Most pastors are doing well to plant one church; Paul seems to spin them off every few weeks.

But Paul, like everybody else, has limited time. Soon he is “Paul the aged” (Phm 1.9) looking to pass off his ministry to his proteges, most famously Timothy and Titus.

We know more about Timothy than Titus. It seems that Timothy was less than a natural leader; Paul once prodded him not to let others undercut his authority (1Ti 4.12) and admonished him to take medicine to settle his stomach (1Ti 5.23).

Timothy, apparently, felt too small for the job. He didn’t think he could do what the Word of God, from the mouth of the apostle, had ordered him to do.

In his final letter, Paul urged him on:

I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands (2Ti 1.6).

And then he lifted the haze of doubt and uncertainty and timidity and fear that welled up in Timothy’s heart by saying these words:

For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2Ti 1.7).

I’d like to take a few posts to consider how we can face the giants—and win—based on this brief sentence.

Part 2: No Panic | Part 3: Power | Part 4: Love | Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

How to Parallel Park

September 16, 2021 by Dan Olinger 4 Comments

Seriously.

I know a lot of people who don’t know how to parallel park. Some of them won’t even try.

And as I observe my world, I realize that a lot of people I don’t know also don’t know how to parallel park. I have seen remarkable things.

Since I like to throw in a light-hearted post every so often, and since I really believe that I’ve discovered the way to parallel park accurately, first time, every time—and in remarkably tight spaces—I want to share my technique here. It really works.

The first thing you need to do is ignore what your driving instructor told you. He wanted you to look back over your right shoulder out the rear window.

As you well know, that doesn’t work at all. You can’t see what you need to see to be accurate.

Here’s what you need to do.

My instructions assume you’re driving on the right side of the road. This will work in former British colonies as well—I’ve proved it in South Africa, with a standard transmission, on a hill—but you’ll need to reverse left and right references, of course.

Pull up beside the car parked in the space in front of yours, a foot or two from it. Actually, the distance is not all that critical; if you’re farther away, your angle into the space will be sharper, but that doesn’t prevent a successful and efficient park. The key is that your rear bumper is even with the other vehicle’s.

VERY IMPORTANT THING: Look carefully around to ensure that the area is clear of things you don’t want to run into, including living persons. That liability situation is the whole reason your driving instructor told you to look over your right shoulder and out the back.

Turn the steering wheel all the way to the right, so that the rear end of your vehicle will move to the right as you back into the space.

SECOND VERY IMPORTANT THING: Don’t look over your right shoulder. Look instead in the outside mirror on the driver’s side (your left, in the good ol’ USA). This is the key to the whole operation. Note that when you’re looking here, you can’t see if someone is standing in the space you’re aiming for. That’s why you need to clear the area visually before you start.

Put ‘er in reverse and coast slowly back. As the back of your vehicle moves rightward into the space, locate in the mirror the left rear corner of the parking space. Aim the back left corner of your vehicle just inside that corner.

When the corner of your vehicle is properly aimed to hit that spot, turn the steering wheel back to the left until the front wheels are straight, and proceed slowly straight back into the space.

When your left rear tire is inside the side line of the space, and your front bumper is clear of the car parked in front of you, turn the steering wheel hard to the left to swivel the front of your vehicle into the spot.

When your vehicle’s entire left side is inside the lines of the parking space, straighten the steering wheel and stop.

Amateur level: You may need to move the car slightly backward or forward to get it completely inside the front and back lines of the space.

Pro level: Turn off the engine. You’re completely inside the space as soon as you straighten the steering wheel.

I’m telling you, this works. First time, every time.

You’re welcome. :-)

Photo by Adam Griffith on Unsplash

No Matter What

September 13, 2021 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

I had an impactful experience recently that I’d like to share.

I’ve had a hearing problem since I was a boy and had a disagreement with a calf on the family farm; I wanted to ride him, and he disagreed. I landed on the right side of my head and heard something pop. That ear has been significantly impaired since then.

In recent years, with aging, the other ear has been declining as well. This summer I decided to get hearing aids, and I’ve been delighted with the experience; I should have done that long ago.

Six weeks later, one morning I woke up deaf. The “bad ear” was its normal self, but the “good ear” was just gone; it was now by far the “bad ear.” (I came to that realization when I flushed the toilet and heard absolutely nothing.)

Popped in the hearing aids—I’m glad I had them to fall back on—and found that when I cranked them all the way up, I could hear juuuust a little bit.

This was the first day of meetings for the returning faculty to start the school year, and I really needed to be able to hear at least some of what was going on. Made it a matter of prayer and headed off to work.

I managed to get through the day hearing enough to fulfill my responsibilities, but any of you with hearing aids knows that having them turned all the way up means that all the ambient noise is screaming inside your head all day, so it was fairly unpleasant. In fact, a colleague took me aside at one point and asked if I was feeling OK. I was surprised that my distress was noticeable and tried to make it less so for the rest of the day. :-\

That night I tinkered around with possible solutions, to no apparent effect, and went to bed.

Next morning, still deaf.

I did my usual personal devotional time, and in my prayer time I asked the Lord, if he was willing, to clear up the problem. I presented him with a couple of reasons why I thought my being able to hear would be better than the current situation—

I teach the Bible to Christian students, and they seem to benefit from it, and hearing their questions enables me to teach more effectively.
In times of worship, I’m much more inclined to rejoice when I hear the congregational singing of my church family—even though, truthfully, I don’t contribute much musical quality to it.

So I asked him to intervene.

And then.

I thought for a minute, and I told him something else.

“Father, if you don’t enable me to hear ever again, I’m going to serve you the best I can, without complaint. You have been unfailingly good to me for 60 years as a believer, and for several years before that. I trust you, and I will still trust you and serve you for every tomorrow. I’m with you.

No matter what.”

And I meant it.

That was a deeply significant moment.

I finished my devotional procedure and then, as was my custom, I took a shower. And during the shower, my hearing came back. I don’t want to get all TMI here—the queasy can look away—but the problem was a simple mechanical blockage by earwax.

So it was really no significant problem at all.

But I didn’t know that when I was praying, and I meant what I said. I will always remember the volitional significance of that experience.

And here’s what occurred to me then.

It was my ignorance that made the moment powerful. If I had known that this was just wax, and that the (completely nonsupernatural) solution was just moments away, I would never have faced the opportunity to make that significant choice.

God could have taught me that lesson by making me really deaf for the rest of my life—and that would have been fine, good even. But he knew he didn’t need to do that. All it would take was a little lump of earwax and a couple of days. And my limited knowledge. And so he did what it took.

He’s a gracious, merciful God, who brings good things even out of ignorance.

I’m all in.

No matter what.

Photo by nikko macaspac on Unsplash

Jesus Is Jehovah, Part 10: Other Possibilities

September 9, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We’re getting toward the end of our list of places where the New Testament quotes a YHWH passage from the Old Testament and applies it to Christ. The ones we’ve addressed so far are quite clear at both ends—that is, the NT passage is clearly citing the OT YHWH passage, and it is clearly applying it to Jesus.

I’d like to wrap up the series by listing a handful of other examples that are less certain. I’ll note where the uncertainty is. But I include them here as possibilities because they may be legitimate examples of the phenomenon we’ve been studying.

When Satan tempts Jesus to leap from the pinnacle of the Temple (Mt 4.7 // Lk 4.12), Jesus quotes Deuteronomy 6.16, “You shall not tempt YHWH your God.” I think Jesus is saying that he should not tempt the Father by requiring a rescue; but there may well be a double meaning in his words to Satan, “You, Satan, should not be tempting me.” Possible; I wouldn’t say likely.

In Romans 12.19, Paul reminds his readers of the statement in Deuteronomy 32.35 that “Vengeance is mine; I will repay, says YHWH.” In the context of Romans 12, he could well be referring to the Father. But the only other place where he uses the word vengeance of divine action is in an earlier epistle, 2Thessalonians 1.8, where Jesus is the one taking vengeance at his coming.

In Hebrews 10.30, the writer also quotes Deuteronomy 32.35-36, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay … YHWH will vindicate his people.” In the next paragraph, he presents as the fulfillment of that prediction (possibly paraphrasing Habakkuk 2.3) the words “Yet in a very little while, he who is coming will come.” The reference to a coming leans me toward a reference to the Son rather than the Father.

In Romans 14.11, Paul quotes Isaiah 45.23, “As I live, says YHWH, every knee shall bow to me.” Again, here the reference could be to the Father. But Paul will shortly later write that “at the name of Jesus every knee will bow” (Php 2.10).

In 1Corinthians 2.16 Paul quotes Isaiah 40.13, “Who has known the mind of YHWH?” and then says, “But we have the mind of Christ.” Back in verse 11 he has mentioned the Spirit as knowing the mind of God, and he may be mentioning Christ here in a parallel sense. But maybe not.

The author of Hebrews quotes extensively from Jeremiah 31, where YHWH says that he will make a “new covenant” with his people (He 8.8-12; 10.16-17). The context quotes the words of all three members of the Trinity—the Son (He 10.8-9), then the Father (He 10.12-13), then the Spirit (He 10.16-17). Which person is the initiator of the New Covenant? (Or should this agency even be ascribed to just one of the persons?) Do Jesus’ words at the Last Supper (Mt 26.28 // Mk 14.24 // Lk 22.20) give us a basis for making him the “YHWH” who speaks in Jeremiah 31?

In 1Peter 3.15 Peter may be referencing Isaiah 8.13; commentators are divided on that. (Noted NT scholars Wayne Grudem and Thomas Schreiner both think so.) Isaiah says we should regard YHWH as holy; Peter says we should regard “the Lord Christ” as holy. The situation is complicated by a textual variant in Peter’s passage; most of the manuscripts say “the Lord God,” but pretty much all of the oldest manuscripts (fewer in number, because, well, they’re older) say “the Lord Christ.” If you’re a majority-text person—and you’re welcome to be, as far as I’m concerned—you won’t want to use this one.

In Revelation 1.7 John appears to be citing an OT text when he describes Jesus as “coming in the clouds.” He might be referencing Daniel 7.13, where one like a son of man (human in appearance) comes in the clouds to appear before the Ancient of Days. Jesus himself refers to this passage during his trial (Mt 26.64 // Mk 14.62) and applies it to himself. But it’s possible that John is referencing Isaiah 19.1, where YHWH comes on a cloud.

Maybe all of these are further examples of the Scripture calling Jesus Jehovah; maybe none of them are. But we have multiple passages where the Bible clearly makes that claim.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash