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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James’s Big Ideas, Part 4: Works 

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Wisdom | Part 3: Words 

One more theme makes itself obvious in James’s little letter. Multiple times he uses a Greek verb, or its noun equivalent, to speak of our works. 

He notes a couple of ways that humans naturally “work” evil: 

  • We exhibit wrath (Jam 1.20). 
  • We discriminate against people—specifically the poor (Jam 2.9—translated “commit” or “committing” in many of the English versions). 

But God doesn’t leave us in our sorry state. The first thing James comments on in his letter is that God “works” in his people through trials, to develop endurance in them. When he has rescued us from our inborn proclivities, he begins to work on us, shaping us, trying us, so that we will be mature examples of his people. 

And what do you suppose happens then? 

We begin to “work” in ways that we were unable to before. In fact, it becomes impossible for us not to respond to God’s work in us with our works—works that provide evidence of the genuineness of our faith. In James’s memorable words, “Faith without works is dead” (Jam 2.20). 

He gives us two historical examples of believers who demonstrated their faith by their works: 

  • Abraham (Jam 2.21), who obeyed God’s command to take his promised son, Isaac, to Moriah and sacrifice him, until God stopped him at the very last moment (Hebrews 11.19 tells us that he believed that God would raise his son from the dead after he had sacrificed him.) 
  • Rahab (Jam 2.25), who protected the Israelite (enemy!) soldiers and enabled them to escape the Canaanite forces 

This kind of obedience perfectly exemplifies the attitude James has already described—and commanded—in chapter 1: that we should be doers of the Word, and not merely hearers (Jam 1.25). Abraham heard the word directly, of course; God spoke to him audibly (Ge 22.2), as he did relatively often in those days before the arrival of the Living Word (He 1.1-2) and the completion of the Written. 

But the case of Rahab is less obvious, more subtle. There is no indication that God ever spoke to her. She and her people had heard—through the rumor mill—of the parting of the Red Sea and of Israel’s defeat of the two Amorite kings (Jos 2.10). I suppose we could say that the word Rahab heard from God was general, rather than special, revelation. But while her countrymen had responded as unbelievers, in fear, she had responded in faith: “Yahweh your God, he is God in heaven above and in earth beneath” (Jos 2.11). And that faith unavoidably made itself plain in her decisions and the consequent actions. 

Here we have clear evidence of God’s working in the hearts of those who believe in him to produce evidentiary works. 

Throughout his epistle James gives us plentiful specific examples of the kinds of works we will produce as God works in us. 

  • Enduring temptation (faithfulness) (Jam 1.12) 
  • Control of anger (Jam 1.19) 
  • Responding to the Scripture’s correcting work (Jam 1.25) 
  • Helping widows and orphans (Jam 1.27) 
  • Nondiscrimination (Jam 2.1) 
  • Giving to the poor (Jam 2.15) 
  • Controlling the mouth (Jam 3.2) 
  • Sorrow for sin (Jam 4.9) 
  • Rejection of materialism (Jam 4.13) 
  • Honesty (Jam 5.1, 4) 
  • Prayer (Jam 5.16) 

And so it must be with us. We demonstrate our genuine faith through our “conversation,” our lifestyle, including both words and works, that displays the fruit of obedience. And that, James says, is wisdom (Jam 3.13). 

So here, at the end, we find that all three of these Big Ideas come together. We gain wisdom from God, and that wisdom leads us to works that are consistent with our condition as believers, including words that bring life rather than death. 

This epistle from the first generation of Jesus’ followers is as relevant today as ever. 

Photo by madeleine ragsdale on Unsplash

James’s Big Ideas, Part 2: Wisdom 

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Part 1: Introduction 

One of James’s greatest emphases, from the beginning (Jam 1.5) to the end (Jam 5.20) of his epistle, is wisdom. James is using the Greek word sophia, from which we get our words sophisticated, sophomore, and philosopher. In the Bible, it doesn’t mean “smart” or “intellectually gifted”; there are many examples in the Bible of smart people who weren’t wise, and of wise people who weren’t particularly smart. The Bible uses the word to describe people who are good at figuring out what is the right or most effective or most appropriate response to a situation. It’s about the practical side, not the mental or intellectual side. 

Where Do You Get It? 

James begins his epistle by implying that you get wisdom from experience, specifically trials and testings (Jam 1.2-4). In the hard days of life you learn to work through those difficulties to a solution; and whether your “solution” is a good one or not, you learn from it, whether as a positive or negative example. After a sufficient number of those experiences, you find yourself “mature and complete, not lacking anything” (Jam 1.4 NIV). 

But then, to drive his point home, he speaks directly: if you need wisdom, ask God for it. God will give you all you need, and he won’t be bothered that you asked (Jam 1.5); in fact, he’ll be glad you asked. You demonstrate humility and teachability by asking, and those qualities set you up for wisdom. 

But—and here’s a fundamental qualification—you need to trust the God you ask (Jam 1.6). He will answer, and effectively, and he will bring you out at the right place. As James has already implied, wisdom comes through difficulty—and when God begins to answer your request by sending hard times, you need to trust him by expecting the hard times to come, facing them directly, and working through them to the end and the resulting wisdom. There’s no room for “going wobbly” with the all-wise and loving God when he’s acting—as he always does—in your best long-term interests. If you don’t face the difficulty and drive through to the end, you’re not going to be any wiser for the experience (Jam 1.7). 

What Happens Then? 

Wisdom has specific characteristics; when you get it, you’ll be able to recognize it. In the middle of his epistle, James tells us what it doesn’t look like, and then what it does. 

Not Like This 

James says that the world has a certain way of looking at things, a way that it thinks is “wise” (Jam 3.14-15). It’s characterized, he says, by “bitter envying and strife” (Jam 3.14). We certainly see that around us, from Tik Tok influencers to tensions between global superpowers. I want something that someone else has, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it. The world calls this “initiative” or “drive”; but what it really is is rejection of providence and lack of trust in the goodness and wisdom of the Director. 

James says (Jam 3.15) this “wisdom” is  

  • Earthly: focused on the temporary, the trivial (think pop culture) 
  • Sensual: focused on what makes you naturally feel good (think promiscuity, addiction, laziness) 
  • Devilish: focused on the selfish pride that characterizes the evil forces 

But Like This 

True wisdom, on the other hand, evidences itself in a person’s choices (Jam 3.13)—specifically (Jam 3.17), choices that reflect  

  • Purity: morally clean living 
  • Peaceableness: a tendency to radiate and encourage peace rather than conflict 
  • Gentleness: refusal to insist on your rights; tending to yield 
  • Entreatability: willingness to hear the other side and to be convinced 
  • Mercifulness: kindness to those in need; willingness to withhold punishment 
  • Good fruits: actions that are useful or beneficial 
  • Impartiality: treating others with fairness and respect 
  • Genuineness: being what you claim and what you advocate 

Did you notice that at the beginning of this post, I listed James 5.20 as advocating wisdom? Did you check that reference? It doesn’t use the word; the last explicit reference to wisdom is here in James 3.17. But if wisdom is the ability to choose the right response in a situation, then James 5.20 is talking about it, even without mentioning it. 

If you look at our current culture, you probably find it difficult to avoid the conclusion that we live in a foolish, foolish age. 

How about if we choose to go against the flow and raise our culture’s wisdom quotient rather than making the world more foolish? 

Photo by madeleine ragsdale on Unsplash

James’s Big Ideas, Part 1: Introduction 

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Imagine having as a best friend one of Jesus’ brothers—someone who lived with and looked up to him when he was a child, who at first didn’t believe on him (Jn 7.5), maybe thought he was a little crazy (Mt 12.46-49)—but one day, the resurrected Jesus came to him (1Co 15.7), and he was never the same. Now he’s a leader in the early church (Ac 15.13; Ga 2.9); he’s a man who walks with God and prays so much that his knees have calluses like a camel’s. And he’s your best friend. Would you listen to what he says? 

As it turns out, this half-brother of Jesus has written a letter, a brief one, but one that’s filled with big ideas, thoughts that have been percolating in his head since that conversation with his resurrected older brother, the conversation that made him realize that everything he thought he knew was fundamentally far too simple. This letter is the fruit of those hours in the Temple, on his callused knees, meditating on the Hebrew Scriptures and the teachings of the brother he thought he knew but obviously didn’t. 

In this letter James has an unusual style. He writes like a combination of Teddy Roosevelt and John the Baptist, or perhaps the prophet Amos or Ezekiel, along with the sort of intense disjointedness that we find in Proverbs. He’s confident, assured of the rightness of his words, and he says what he thinks, bluntly and with no attempt to soften their impact. 

He speaks his mind, and he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. 

But at the same time, his love for his brother—his master (Jam 1.1), the Lord of glory (Jam 2.1)—is apparent in every word, even though he mentions him only twice in his letter. And his love for the readers of this letter, “my brethren” (Jam 2.1 and 7 other times in these 5 chapters), “my beloved brethren” (Jam 1.19) is evident as well. He writes directly, practically, down to earth and easy to understand; he shows no sign of Paul’s complex argumentation or John’s heavenly vision. He’s about doing—ethics—not just thinking or feeling. He says these hard things because his readers are worth the effort, the risk, the direct intervention. He is not willing to let them go. 

Because of his passionate bluntness, he doesn’t evidence the clear logical structure of Paul, say, in Romans or 1 Corinthians or Galatians, or of the author of Hebrews. As noted earlier, he reads more like Proverbs than like Paul. 

And so he says a lot of things. One commentator, Zane Hodges, sees a broad structure in the book laid out in James 1.19: “Let every man be swift to hear [Jam 1.21-2.26], slow to speak [Jam 3.1-18], slow to wrath [Jam 4.1-5.6]” (“The Epistle of James,” in the Grace NT Commentary, 1108ff). But most students of the epistle see it as much more free-flowing than structured. 

In this brief series I’d like to stop and think about three of the things James thinks are most important for you and me, his friends, to know. These three things are the core of what we need to know—and be—in order to have the very best life, the life that God has designed us for. 

The three things are easy to remember, since they all start with “w.” They are our wisdom, our words, and our works. 

To be continued. 

Photo by madeleine ragsdale on Unsplash

On Labor Day

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Today is Labor Day. These days it’s pretty much lost its original meaning and serves for our culture as just a day off that signals the end of summer. And so we have the irony of calling a day off “Labor Day.” 

The kids must wonder about that. 

Originally, of course, it was a fruit of the labor-union movement in the United States, a celebration of and a recognition of the importance of the work done by “laborers,” or what we’ve come today to call “blue-collar workers.”  

Much has been written from a Christian perspective on the importance of work, and particularly of all work; work is a sacred calling, a “vocation,” directed by a wise and loving God. Any obedience to that God has value and meaning. Some people are paid more than others for their work, and some kinds of work are seen as more “respectable,” but theologically speaking, all honest work is a virtue and contributes to the overall good of society and the furtherance of God’s plan. 

I’d like to meditate on the topic from another angle, one of my favorite theological concepts. 

As I think back over my working life, I realize that is filled with good things, great blessings—but things that I didn’t recognize as good at the time. 

At first I wanted to be a pilot. But that costs money, so I thought I’d let the government pay for it. Set out for an Air Force ROTC scholarship; I thought I’d get it, because I had good SAT scores. But I flunked the flight physical—bad hearing from a childhood ear injury—and that was the end of that. I remember riding the Greyhound bus home from Otis Air Force Base, wondering at the age of 16 what on earth I was going to do with my life. (I still get wistful in airports.) 

Well, maybe I can be an aerospace engineer. Applied to UMass Boston and was rejected. Good grades, in-state resident, financial need. No dice. Why? 

Hmmm. Must have applied too late. Reapplied immediately for the next year and worked in a sandwich shop. 

Rejected again. UMass just plain didn’t want me. 

I had applied to BJU to get my Dad off my back, and wouldn’t you know it, they accepted me. Drat. 

Off to college, where within hours I was confronted by my spiritual need and challenged to get serious about life. Everything changed. 

Maybe I should be a pastor. Nope. It became clear that I was not gifted or inclined to what that work entailed. 

OK, maybe I should be a Bible teacher. My senior year I applied to be a Greek GA—had a Greek minor and high grades. Nope. 

After graduation I returned home to Boston and got a job to save for grad school. Midsummer BJU offered me a GA in English. I took it. 

So they paid for the terminal degree—that was handy—and I learned a lot about English grammar and writing style. 

Any chance I could join the Bible faculty? Nope. Those guys are as stable as they come, and since they don’t smoke or drink or drive over the speed limit, they tend to live a long time. 

But with the English skills, I could get a job as an editor at the Press. Maybe I can work there until a spot opens on the faculty. 

A decade later I realized that if no such spot ever opened, I’d be content to work there for the rest of my life. I liked my bosses, my coworkers, the customers, the creativity, the business of navigating the industry’s change from analog to digital. 

A decade after that, I got restless. I could be doing more with the PhD. Maybe I should get a teaching position somewhere else. 

And then one of my Seminary profs stopped me in the Dining Common and asked if I’d like to teach. 

That was 25 years ago, and I’ve been deliriously happy ever since. 

What about that boyhood dream of flying? 

I realized later that, first, I don’t have the kind of personality that keeps pilots alive for any appreciable length of time, and second, I’d have been entering the job market just as all those high-time pilots were coming back from Viet Nam. 

God led differently. 

And, to no surprise, his leading has been good, and fulfilling, and perfect for how he designed me. 

Just saw a headline in the Wall Street Journal: “America’s Teachers Are Burned Out.” 

Not this one. 

Happy Labor Day. 

Photo by Scott Blake on Unsplash

On Widows in the Church 

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In the Bible James notes that taking care of widows and orphans is at the very heart of true religion (Jam 1.27). Later Paul, in a letter to his protégé Timothy, gives details on how the church should see to that duty (1Ti 5.3-16). His words are perhaps unexpectedly lengthy and detailed; he wants this done right. 

Widows with family, he says, should be cared for by their family (1Ti 5.4, 16). That’s sensible. Further, the widow needs to be at least 60 (1Ti 5.9)—presumably because a younger woman would have a reasonable chance of getting married again (1Ti 5.11)—and have lived in a way that demonstrates the genuineness of her faith (1Ti 5.9-10), something that would obligate the church to see to her care. 

How does this work in our culture? I’d like to share a story from my experience. 

In a church where I was on the elder board, one of the elders got a burden for the widows, something he just couldn’t get out of his mind. We put him in charge of putting something together that would bring some discipline to our approach, particularly so that no one would fall through the cracks of our care. 

Soon we had a list of all the widows in the church. There were 35. I was surprised at how many there were. Then an elder and a deacon interviewed each one: how are you doing? What do you need? How can we help? 

We were all surprised at what we learned. 

We expected to find financial need; that was certainly a primary concern in Paul’s day. There may have been a concern or two in our congregation, but for the most part that was not a problem. They told us that their husbands had had life insurance, and they had enough to live on. Some, in fact, were in better shape financially than they had been when their husbands were alive. 

But that is not to say there were no needs. You know what they told us? 

“We need purpose. We need to be needed. We need something to do, a reason to get up in the morning. We need to belong.” 

Wow. 

Two thoughts struck me immediately. 

First, we were completely uninformed, misinformed, on the situation in our own church. It was nothing like we thought. 

And second, how could we have missed such a serious need? 

We took immediate action. We asked the widows to come up with ideas on how they could organize and serve. That would address both the need to belong and the need to be needed. 

And their first idea surprised us. They suggested that they clean the houses of new mothers. 

I’ll confess that I wasn’t too keen on that idea. Widows are often, um, older than the population median, and were they up to it? Physical labor? 

Well, it turns out that living that long helps give a person good sense, and they were wise enough not to take on tasks that would be too much for them. And their time with the new moms gave them opportunity to share mothering wisdom with the first-timers, and they delighted in the chance to hold the newborns and marvel over their little fingers and toes. 

It was a win all around. Listening to people, and trusting their good sense and creativity, is a good thing. 

I suspect that widows’ ministry will look a little different in every church, but we can be sure that we will give account to whether we have attended to that need. 

Do you know what happened next? 

That elder? The one with the burden? He died, and his wife became a widow. And she stepped right into a ministry that was ready to help her with grief support, and a need to be needed. Eventually she became the de facto leader of that widows’ ministry, until she remarried some years later. 

Isn’t providence good? 

Photo by Free Walking Tour Salzburg on Unsplash

More Thoughts on AI 

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No, not some guy named Alan; that’s a capital i, not a lowercase L. 

A while back I wrote a couple of posts about experimenting with ChatGPT to see whether I had a reasonable shot at spotting student work that was using the tool. 

With school starting up this week, I’ve been thinking about what sort of policy to have about student use of AI. My university gives us teachers a lot of freedom as to our course policies; the official institution-wide policy is that student use of AI for assignments is prohibited “without the express permission of the professor”—which means we can give permission for anything we think is appropriate and academically justifiable. 

So I did some more playing around with ChatGPT, and also with Claude.ai. 

I began with ChatGPT, specifying, “Write a 700-word essay in the style of www.danolinger.com on the topic of sanctification.” I wanted to see whether it could write a blog post that sounded like me. (I know what you’re thinking; hold off on any judgment for a bit.) What it wrote—immediately—was pretty good. Although the title didn’t reflect my style here on the blog—you may have noticed that I like titles that start with “On”—it was generally pretty good as to content and basic style. I did notice differences in mechanics; it spelled out the names of the biblical books and used colons rather than periods to separate chapter numbers from verse numbers in references. But it did use the Oxford comma, though it used more commas than I would have in other constructions. 

Sidebar: do you know why I use periods instead of colons in Bible references? Because a colon requires the Shift key, and the period doesn’t. Efficiency. 

I thought I’d see how it handled a secular topic, so I asked, “Make the topic the migration of the monarch butterfly.” I’m no expert on the seasonal peregrinations of lepidoptera, particularly danaus plexippus, but what it churned out seemed very good to me. 

Now, I had asked it to use the style of my blog’s website, where there are, as of this writing, 691 posts, and the speed with which it had responded to both of these prompts made me wonder whether it had even glanced casually in the direction of the blog. So my next prompt was “Delineate the parallels in style between your essay and those on danolinger.com.” 

I was astounded by its reply—seven nicely formatted points identifying seven elements of my blog’s style, ranging from “conversational tone” to “use of relatable examples” to “integration of wonder and mystery.” 

Yikes. ChatGPT is the most attentive reader I’ve got. 

One more test—one that I think might cause it to stumble. “Add biblical references to the essay.” 

Now this is an essay about a non-religious, and more specifically, extrabiblical topic, and I’m asking this non-brain to make biblical applications about something it doesn’t even mention. So what does it do? 

It brings in Psalm 19.1, a key passage for the doctrine of natural revelation. Then it parallels God’s guidance of the monarch with his guidance of his people, citing Proverbs 3.5-6, and then the idea of finishing the race, from Hebrews 12.1-2. And it finishes with Ecclesiastes 3.11 and Psalm 104.24. 

Bravo, ChatGPT, bravo. I’m impressed. 

Later, at the recommendation of a friend, I popped over to Claude.ai and asked for the same thing, for the topic of the early date of the Exodus. Excellent essay. 

Then “Write a 500-word short story set during the Exodus.” 

Pretty good one. The kid’s even named Levi. 

“Write a haiku about it.” 

Waves part, path revealed  
Israelites follow God’s call  
Freedom’s light shines forth 

“Write a sonnet about it.” 

“Write a poem about it in Greek.” 

It even included the line “Οἱ δὲ ἐν φόβῳ ἔφευγον πρὸς τὴν θάλασσαν Ἐρυθράν.” Pronominal use of the article. Nice touch. 

Then I asked for a poem in Akkadian. 

And it did it. 

Transliterated—not in cuneiform—but recognizably Akkadian. (I’m not qualified to evaluate the literary quality or the accuracy of said poem.) 

Yikes. 

These tools are getting better all the time. 

But no, I’ll never use them to write a blog entry. 

So what’s my AI student policy? 

For Greek and for Bible Doctrines, prohibited. I want the students to do the thinking—all of it. 

For my Gospel of John class, I’ve decided to try an experiment. 

“Any use of AI must be specifically credited with quotation marks and a footnote. AI output should not predominate in what you turn in.” 

I have no idea whether or not this is a good idea. We’ll see how it goes, and I’ll ask the students for feedback at the end of the semester. 

No chatbots were harmed in the creation of this blog post. 

Photo by Andy Kelly on Unsplash

On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 3 

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Part 1 | Part 2 

Once we’ve invested the time and effort it takes to be informed about what the Scripture says, and what the law requires, and what the culture expects, we need to get down to the business of making decisions about how we respond to specific demands from those authorities. 

We tend not to do well when we make snap decisions. Many decisions about these matters—especially the most important or significant ones—are complex and require us to think through extended arguments pro or con. That takes time, effort, and discipline. 

Add to that the fact that social media is formulated in such a way that it discourages us from complex thought (I’ve written on that here), and we’re temperamentally and intellectually disinclined to spend that time and expend that effort. We have to fight against our own inclinations and those of our peers. 

By the way, this ability to think through complex problems to a proper application is called “wisdom” in the Bible, and it’s highly commended and recommended there. Start with Proverbs. 

So. What process do we follow to arrive at a wise decision when authorities appear to be in conflict? Let me suggest one that works for me. 

  • First, gather the data. Make sure you know what you’re talking about. 
  • What does the Scripture actually require? 
  • What does the law actually require? 
  • What does the culture actually expect? And how broadly pervasive is that expectation? 

Often I find that at this point there’s no actual conflict; I can figure out a way, sometimes requiring a little creativity, to satisfy all the authorities. I find that Christians are often too quick to pull the trigger on civil disobedience or offensiveness to the culture—or disobedience to the Scripture in order not to be offensive to the culture. 

  • Next, determine the importance. Do you actually have to make a choice? Proverbs—that book of wisdom—says, “He that passeth by, and meddleth with strife belonging not to him, Is like one that taketh a dog by the ears” (Pr 26.17). Not every controversy is one you need to take sides in; and that’s especially true in a culture where various media outlets raise their ratings, and consequently their ad revenue, by serving up The Outrage of the Day, every day, and sometimes more frequently than that. 
  • Now, if you’ve decided that you need to act on the issue, it’s time to give thought to the way you act. Harsh confrontation, complete with your shaking your fist in someone’s face, need not be your first choice—and frankly, I’m not sure it’s ever a proper choice, especially given Jesus’ words about turning the other cheek (Mt 5.39) and Paul’s words in his letter to the Colossian church: 

Let your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt, that ye may know how ye ought to answer every man (Co 4.6). 

And a few further considerations: 

  • What is the Authority Priority? I’d say we obey the Scripture first, then the law, then the cultural expectation. 
  • What response best reflects Jesus’ thinking and behavior? Yes, that can be difficult to determine: he overturned tables in the Temple, and later he stood silent before his accusers and took their beatings. And there’s theology to consider behind both of those responses. 
  • How will your response affect others, both regenerate and unregenerate? Paul talks directly about the importance of protecting the conscience and edification of a fellow believer (1Co 8.4-13; 10.23-31), and Peter speaks of the importance of avoiding unnecessary offense in the communication of the gospel, “with meekness and fear” (1P 3.15). 
  • A sobering consideration is this: though you will never have to answer to God for your sins—Jesus’ cross work has taken care of that—you will one day give an account to him for your stewardship, your use of the time and characteristics he has given you. He can’t be fooled, and he’s not likely to be happy with casual or slipshod decision-making on matters of obedience. 

So. Navigate the tensions between authorities carefully, thoughtfully, with grace toward all, with joy for Christ’s companionship, and with the confidence that comes from knowing who wins in the end. 

Photo by madeleine craine on Unsplash

On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 2  

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Part 1 

We have, then, three distinct authorities: 

  • The Scripture, which is absolute; 
  • The laws of our land, which the Scripture has obligated us to obey, unless they compel us to disobey God; and 
  • Cultural expectations, because Jesus commanded us to love our neighbor and to live out his grace, mercy, and peace as ambassadors—again, short of disobeying the Scripture. We don’t pick our nose in public. 

How do we rightly maximize obedience to all three? 

We all know this isn’t easy. 

One thing we do know is that some random blogger can’t make these decisions for us; the answers will come from our mind and conscience as informed by our personal interaction with the Scripture and with the Spirit—who, we should remember, never leads contrary to the Scripture, which he himself inspired. This means that we, as individuals, need to be serious about our study of the Word, hiding it in our hearts, and thinking regularly about how, specifically, it regulates our decision making. Your pastor, though his ministry of the Word can be part of your information collection, can’t give you a personal understanding of the Word; you have to do that for yourself. 

Similarly, we need to develop our own determination that we are going to heed the Scripture regardless of the personal consequences. We can’t go through the hard decisions of life on someone else’s commitment to Christ; we have to be serious about our commitment to him personally. 

Third, we need to know what we’re talking about. For example, on making a decision about a legal requirement, we face a problem: legal issues are often political issues, and politics is by nature filled with highly inaccurate information. Both sides in a political controversy want to maximize their following, and in most cases they’re perfectly willing to lie to do it. So they exaggerate the threat and sometimes they just make stuff up. Further, these days most journalists are advocates, not reporters, and they omit facts that don’t fit their goals and distort facts that do. That means that we need to go to original sources—yeah, we need to read the actual law to find out what it requires. 

This principle of being accurately informed extends over into the cultural issues as well. We tend to overestimate the breadth of cultural expectations, to assume too quickly that “everybody’s doing it.” As just one example, evangelicalism in the US has moved from a general opposition to the use of beverage alcohol during Prohibition to more openness since. That move was expedited by increased ease of travel and consequent increased exposure to cultures where practicing Christians had not been influenced by the American Prohibition movement and had a long history of disciplined use of alcohol. So “everybody’s doing it.” 

In my experience, though, that’s simply not true. Though I grew up in a culture where alcohol was common (my extended family was more the beer-drinking type than wine connoisseurs), I decided not to drink for a few reasons: 

  • I had a family history of alcoholism; 
  • My parents decided to quit drinking when they came to Christ in their 40s; and 
  • During a brief period of rebellion during my gap year after high school I found that I didn’t handle it well. 

As an employee of my university, I’ve signed a statement that I won’t drink, but I wouldn’t drink even if I didn’t work there. 

All this to make this point: over the years I’ve often been invited to share a drink, and I’ve always said, “No, thanks, I don’t drink.” And never—not once—has anyone given me any grief about that or taken any offense. In my experience, there is no real social expectation regarding alcohol. The culture does not in fact require that of its good citizens, and everybody’s most certainly not doing it. 

So it helps us to be informed about what’s actually going on with the legal requirements and the cultural expectations. And of course, what the Scripture actually says. 

Next time, some suggestions about how we make those decisions now that we have the facts at hand. 

Photo by madeleine craine on Unsplash

On Biblical Mandates and Cultural Expectations, Part 1

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We Christians find ourselves in an odd situation.

To paraphrase Jesus, we are in the world, but not of the world (Jn 17.15-16). He has sent us into the world (Jn 17.18) to be his ambassadors (2Co 5.20)—that is, to represent him well by living out his grace, mercy, and peace, and by spreading the message of the gospel to the ends of the earth (Mt 28.18-20).

Now, that means that we are to be different from the world and to make that difference plain—as Israel did under the Mosaic Covenant by intentionally not behaving like the cultures around them. They didn’t round the corners of their temples (Le 19.27), or wear linen mixed with wool (Le 19.19), or plow with an ox and an ass together (Dt 22.10). But at the same time we are to be “in” the world, representing God’s love, grace, mercy, and peace as well as his holiness, purity, and justice.

And God further emphasizes the idea of being “in” the world by saying that he has placed the earthly authorities in their positions and that we are to obey them, seeing them as agents of God himself (Ro 13.1-7).

So we serve God, obeying his commandments, and we obey earthly authorities, and we represent a good and kind God in the culture where he has sovereignly placed us.

We might expect, then, that occasionally these authorities will bump into one another. There are biblical mandates, and we must obey them. There also legal and cultural mandates and expectations, and we should do our best to accommodate them, to the extent that they don’t bring us into conflict with what God wants of us.

I’ve written before, and at more length, on Paul’s passages on this subject: 1 Corinthians 8-10 and Romans 14. But here I’d like to comment a little further on making decisions, sometimes hard ones, on practical matters.

There are clear biblical commandments. The big two, according to Jesus, are to love God and love your neighbor (Mt 22.37-39). We always ought to obey those.

But we know that there are some biblical commandments that we must not obey. The entire Mosaic ceremonial code—priesthood and sacrifices—has been fulfilled in and by Christ, who offered one sacrifice forever (He 10.12), and we would be wrong to follow the Levitical sacrificial code. In this case, as time has passed, the biblical expectation has been completely reversed.

Further, we know that some of the Bible’s commandments were culturally based. As just one example, Paul commands that we greet one another with a holy kiss (Ro 16.16), and I’m not seeing a whole lot of that among the brethren, at least in the US. We understand that we ought to greet one another affectionately and sincerely, and here in the US that usually involves a handshake or a hug, not a kiss. Cultural adaptation.

Some interpreters bring this principle into passages in a more controversial way. Paul’s proscription of women speaking in the assembly (1Co 14.34), for example, they suggest was unique to the Corinthian situation; the women there were causing a problem by their speaking in the church, so Paul told them to give it a rest; but he did not intend this to be a prohibition for all his churches, let alone for churches today.

Now, I’m open to that possibility in the abstract, but proper hermeneutics calls for careful consideration of the context. And I note that

  • Paul does not hint at any geographical limitation in the passage, nor does he describe any kind of misbehavior that elicited the prohibition;
  • Paul makes similar prohibitions in letters to other churches, such as the one in Ephesus (1Ti 2.12), which is on a completely different continent from Corinth;
  • And the reason he gives for the latter prohibition is not the behavior of the women in the Ephesian church, but the behavior of just one, and at the very beginning of time—the mother of us all (1Ti 2.13-14).

So I’d call that a legitimate principle—culture can indeed affect the application of a passage—but not textually indicated in this case.

We’ll continue this next time.

Photo by madeleine craine on Unsplash

A Theology of a Morning Walk, Part 2: The Theology 

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Part 1: The Walk 

The previous post described a walk on the beach. 

What was I thinking about during that time? 

Let me tell you. 

God’s Power and Faithfulness 

The first thing you notice while walking on the beach is of course the ocean. It’s active, with the waves crashing a (reasonably) steady drumbeat on the sand. And it extends over the horizon, all the way to someplace far away. As I noted, this thing goes all the way to Perth. It’s unimaginably immense. 

And God says to it, “Thus far you shall come, but no farther; and here shall your proud waves stop” (Job 38.11). 

I see the moon, thousands of miles away, shining with the albedo of the reflected sun, even farther away, and Jupiter, farther yet, also reflecting the sun’s light, and a host of stars, exponentially farther. In a dark sky, a few of those “stars” would actually be galaxies, comprising millions of stars themselves. 

In the understatement of all time, Moses writes, “He made the stars also” (Ge 1.16). 

And this massive system runs like a clock. Or rather, our clocks attempt to run like it. We mark our years, and months, and days because God has created a system that is faithful, down to the second. So I knew before I started out that high tide was at 8:55 and sunrise at 6:38. Sure enough. 

God’s faithfulness is also evident in his provision for his creatures: air, and water, and food, and warmth. Life is everywhere, from the microscopic on up, and it thrives because God is faithful. 

Beauty 

The wisest man who ever lived said that God “has made everything beautiful in his time” (Ec 3.11). You see that beauty everywhere—in the sunrise, in the cloud formations, in the iridescence of the seashells, in the astonishing variety of size and color in just the scallop shells, in the sea oats holding the dunes together, in the people walking and running and cycling. And that beauty resonates with us humans, because we are made in God’s image; I’m not the only one out at the jetty to watch the sunrise. 

Human Stewardship 

God has given us the responsibility—and the privilege—to take the raw elements of creation and develop them effectively and wisely. I see that everywhere on my walk, from the ships on the horizon to the waterfront houses to the rock jetty—it’s not a natural formation—to the little signs asking passersby to please be careful of the turtle nests, and to the dog owners who have trained their best-friend canines not to go potty on the beach. I see it in the parking lot in all those cars that have come all those miles with gas-powered explosions in their engines and not breaking down while it all happens. I see it in the websites I consulted about the tides and the sunrise and the weather. (And thanks to those meteorologists, I knew to get off the island 4 days before Hurricane Debby showed up and flooded the place.) 

Brokenness 

Speaking of young Debby, my walk reminded me that my pleasant and enjoyable experience wasn’t actually in the world that the powerful and faithful God had created—or rather, that this world, which he did indeed create, is not the same as it was when he rested on the seventh day. It’s broken. 

I see evidences of natural death all around me: those horseshoe crab carapaces, and the little tiny holes in pretty much every bivalve shell, where a predator has overcome the poor creature’s defense system and made a meal of him. I’m not a fan of Jack London or of Darwin, but when the former describes nature—what the latter suggested operates for “the survival of the fittest”—as “red in tooth and claw,” he’s right. 

And those Marine recruits over on Parris Island are engaging in wise preparation because humans are broken, and they do bad things, sometimes on a global scale. 

But outshining all the evil is the greatness and goodness of God. 

That was a great walk. 

Photo by Hari Perisetla on Unsplash