biblical theology

Why Creation Matters, Part 16: Job

April 23, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I’ve saved the Wisdom Literature for last in this series; ending with this biblical genre, I think, forms a nice climax to this material.

Job may well be the oldest book in the Bible. Genesis records earlier events, of course, since it begins with creation, but Job, the man, sounds as though he’s earlier than Moses, possibly by quite a bit.

We all know the story. Satan, the Accuser, accuses Job of taking the easy path in life, and God, knowing otherwise, puts Job to the test. Job and his three friends, plus a latecomer named Elihu, discuss all this at some length, and in poetry. I’ve addressed some of these matters before.

Jumping to the end of the story, we find God addressing Job’s questions not by answering them, but by noting, in so many words, that Job is not in a position to understand the answer if he were to give it (Job 38.1-3). In essence God says, “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

He begins that response with Creation (Job 38.4-7) and then proceeds to Providence (Job 38.8ff).

⁴Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth?
Declare, if thou hast understanding.
⁵Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest?
Or who hath stretched the line upon it?
⁶Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened?
Or who laid the corner stone thereof;
⁷When the morning stars sang together,
And all the sons of God shouted for joy?

Here God speaks to the very beginnings of philosophy. Those who search for meaning have to start somewhere, and God asserts that they simply don’t have the data they need to do that.

When God began drawing the blueprints for the cosmos, he made decisions about measurements—scale, metrics, and so on (Job 38.5). We’re not equipped even to probe that question; as far as we can tell, the cosmos is infinite. Scientists give it a radius of about 50 billion light years—oh, within a gigaparsec or so—but that’s not a radius; it’s just how far we can see (the “observable universe”). They’re pretty sure that’s not where “the edge” is—and how would we recognize “the edge” if we could see it?

So maybe it’s infinite.

But how can it be infinite?

We have no idea what we’re even talking about.

God’s response to Job continues.

With the blueprints in place, he began pouring the footers, so to speak.

Into what did he pour them (Job 38.6)?

And where did he place the cornerstone?

We know that in the early days of civilization, humans mastered construction techniques that still puzzle us today.

How did they build the pyramids?

How did the Rapa Nui create those massive human moai on Easter Island?

How did the Incas perfect dry-fit ashlar masonry?

But for all we humans could do, even early in our history, we can’t begin to fathom how to position a cosmos in empty space—or how to create the empty space to begin with.

When God did that, the angels of heaven were astonished and overjoyed to the point of exultation (Job 38.7).

God is infinitely beyond us. He is knowable, but he is not comprehensible. And creation demonstrates that, from the very beginning.

Sometimes the only appropriate response is just to sit quietly, to see, and to wonder.

To wonder at the glory of it all, and to wonder that this Creator offers us a relationship with him.

Those who will not see have no idea what they’re missing.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 13: Hebrews

April 13, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The book of Hebrews is in a class by itself, for several reasons. First, it’s not a “normal” epistle, since it doesn’t begin as most epistles do; it’s really more of a sermon, a “word of exhortation” (He 13.22)—though in the same verse the author says he has “written a letter” (epistello, the verb from which our word epistle comes). Second, “the author,” as I’ve just called him (or her) is anonymous—and anybody who thinks he knows who the author is has jumped to a conclusion. I’m fairly sure Paul didn’t write it, but beyond that, only God knows (Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History, 6.25.14). Third, it’s not really a “general epistle,” so it fits only awkwardly in that group, and as I’ve just said, it’s not a Pauline epistle either, so it’s just sort of out there alone among the NT epistles. And fourth, in my opinion it presents a picture of the person and work of Christ that is unrivaled for breadth, depth, and expression anywhere else outside the Gospels.

And here this author points three times to the centrality of Creation in his theology.

Hebrews 1.2

In his opening paean to the Son, the second thing the author says about him is that the Father used him as his agent to create the worlds (He 1.2); more precisely, “by whom also he made the worlds.” This statement parallels two others that we’ve already covered: John 1.3 and Colossians 1.16. Three different authors begin their biblical document by establishing that the Son is the Elohim of Genesis 1, from “Let there be light” to his resting on the seventh day.

But the author of Hebrews takes it further than John or Paul. He makes it the basis of a lengthy argument that Jesus is superior to the angels of heaven, for the Hebrew Scriptures use expressions of him that far exceed anything they say about angels (He 1.4-14)—and this at a time when Jewish writings were completely fascinated with angels and had been for a couple of centuries. I’d suggest that there are Christological implications of tinkering with the Genesis account in ways that de-emphasize the role of the Creator in favor of the mechanism.

Hebrews 1.10-12

As part of his contrasting the Son with angels, the author quotes from Psalm 102.25-27:

Thou, Lord, in the beginning hast laid the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the works of thine hands: ¹¹They shall perish; but thou remainest; and they all shall wax old as doth a garment; ¹²And as a vesture shalt thou fold them up, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall not fail.

This reference to Creation is different from the others we’ve seen. Most of the earlier ones emphasize the power demonstrated in Creation and thus implied in the Creator. This one, though, emphasizes the temporality of it all; it will pass away. But the Son is not like his creation: he is forever.

This statement, of course, speaks to the deity of Christ—not because he is powerful enough to create the cosmos, but because he is unchanging enough to outlast it. By a mile.

Hebrews 11.3

Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that things which are seen were not made of things which do appear.

This brief verse begins the author’s discussion of that all-important virtue, faith. He will eventually list numerous people from the biblical history who exemplified faith in their earthly dealings.

But he begins with Creation, and he tells us two important things about it.

First, we understand it through faith. Not blind faith—we always have to say that, and I’ve discussed that before—but openness to hear and believe God’s story, because we know that he tells the truth. Thus those who reject the doctrine have not an intellectual problem, but a volitional one; they have chosen not to believe what God has said.

And second, God created everything—matter, energy, and anything else that might be out there—from nothing. He created substance from non-substance.

We humans have never done that. Even the artist, who envisions a concept and paints it, uses canvas and brushes and paints that he or someone else has manufactured. The author, who thinks of things and publishes them, uses paper and ink, or electrons that excite LCDs, or something to place his ideas into communicable form.

But everything from nothing?

You can have faith in someone who can do that—and did.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 12: Pauline Epistles 2

April 9, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Paul cites Creation theology in three more passages, two of them on the same subject.

1 Corinthians 11.9; 1 Timothy 2.13

In two passages Paul cites Creation as the basis for worship protocols.

⁸For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. ⁹Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man (1Co 11.8-9).

¹³For Adam was first formed, then Eve (1Ti 2.13).

Both of these passages have long and complex interpretational histories, and it’s not my purpose to develop that in a brief blog post. Both passages are addressing proper protocol in a worship service—the first specifically headwear, and the second leadership in the church. In a feminist age, both of these passages are highly controversial.

But the point I’m focusing on here is not at all controversial—or it shouldn’t be. I note, first, that Paul views the creation account as history, as non-fiction; he accepts its historicity outright. And second, Paul determines the appropriate protocols for corporate worship, a contemporary morality, if you will, from that ancient historical account.

It matters.

2 Corinthians 4.6

⁶For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

Paul’s citation of Creation in this context feels almost off-handed. In this chapter Paul is contrasting the permanent, eternal value of spiritual life with the transitory treasures of life in the world. He will eventually write,

our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; ¹⁸While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal (2Co 4.17-18).

In making this contrast between the seen and the unseen, Paul uses the most logical metaphor, that of light; in his ministry practice he rejects “the hidden things of dishonesty” but manifests the truth (2Co 4.2). A hidden gospel reflects the “blinded” minds of the lost, who cannot see “the light of the glorious gospel of Christ” (2Co 4.4).

The greatest need of a blind world, then, is the ability to see the light that is all around them. The fact that God originally spoke light into existence gives us assurance that he can speak a deeper light, a more powerful light, into existence in our inner beings so that we can recognize the light that shines inherently from Jesus Christ, the true light.

Christians argue over how this works. Arminians emphasize the centrality of human responsibility in believing, while Calvinists focus on the moving of God in sovereign grace. The Bible is clear that both factors are important. We will not believe unless God does a work of grace in us, and we must believe; our choice matters.

This passage emphasizes the divine work of turning on the switch. The light is there to be seen; but blind eyes must be given the capacity to see.

How do we know that God can do this?

He’s spoken the original light into existence, and he’s created eyes in Adam and Eve to see it. As we’ve already noted, Jesus replicated that act during his earthly ministry by creating, from clay, functioning eyes for a man who had never had them. He can certainly do it again, creating spiritual eyes to see spiritual light.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 11: Pauline Epistles 1

April 6, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In Acts, of all the preachers cited, only Paul bases a sermonic point on God’s work of Creation. It should be no surprise, then, that his epistles touch on the doctrine repeatedly. And he applies it more broadly than one might expect.

Romans 1.20

Early in his epistolary writing he lays down an application that apparently underlies all the others:

For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse (Ro 1.20 NASB).

This is Paul’s clear response to the “What about those who have never heard?” question. He says, “They are without excuse.”

I should note that he clearly identifies the “they” here in the previous verses; they are “men who suppress the truth in unrighteousness” (Ro 1.18). God, he says, has made that truth evident to such rejecters (Ro 1.19) through the things that he has made. I’ve written on this principle at greater length earlier in this blog, so suffice it to say here that anybody ought to be able to recognize all kinds of attributes of the Creator by just looking at what he has created—whether or not the observer has modern observational tools.

To deny that the cosmos evidences the power or wisdom or skill or goodness of a Creator is simply to suppress what is obvious. The assumed atheism of much of modern “science” reminds me of the Iraqi Information Minister, Muhammad Saeed Al Sahhaf, who during the US invasion of Iraq in 2003 went on television to deny that American troops had reached Baghdad, when plentiful videos showed American tanks and armored personnel carriers rolling through the streets. For his gaslighting Saeed earned the moniker “Baghdad Bob.”

The atheist scientist knows. He does. But he will not see, because either his own will or that of his colleagues simply will not allow him to. It’s not just teens who are susceptible to peer pressure.

Colossians 1.16

Paul develops this principle in more detail in a later epistle, written during his house arrest in Rome while waiting for Caesar (Nero) to hear his appeal. Here he asserts that Jesus, the Son, is Lord over all the cosmos (Co 1.15) for the simple reason that he has created it:

For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him (Co 1.16 NASB).

Note how the claim ends; his right to reign is absolute not only because he created the cosmos, but because he is the person for whom it was created.

Again, I’ve written on this passage in (much) more detail earlier, demonstrating the falsehood of the Jehovah’s Witnesses’ allegation that Colossians 1.15 shows that Jesus was created and thus cannot be God. We won’t rehash that material here. Instead we’ll focus on the actual point of the passage: Jesus is Lord—of all that is, ever has been, or ever will be. A key basis for that is his role in Creation.

And on this day after Easter, it is appropriate as a significant aside to assert as well that another evidence of his lordship is his emergence from the tomb, triumphant over death and leading a long line of followers who are thus triumphant over death as well.

When I was a boy I assumed that I’d be alive when Jesus returned for his church. Though I still hold open that hope, I realize that at age 71 the odds are increasing that I’m going to die just like all those folks from history.

That’s OK. Death has died in the resurrection of the Son, the Creator, the Lord.

Creation matters.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 10: Acts 

April 2, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

After the Gospels introduce us to the life and ministry of Jesus, the Christ, one of the Gospel writers, Luke, presents a second volume of his Gospel, narrating the outworking of Jesus’ last command, the Great Commission (Lk 24.46-49). He repeats the Commission, expanded slightly, at the beginning of his second volume (Ac 1.8); whereas his earlier account says only that their witness should “begin at Jerusalem,” here it mandates four distinct stages: “in Jerusalem, and in all Judea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost parts of the earth.” Luke’s narrative lays out those stages clearly, ending in faraway and powerful Rome, where Paul, under house arrest, is preaching the gospel “unhinderedly” (Ac 28.31)—that adverb is the last word of the book.

Along the way Luke records sermons or testimonies by several different messengers, including a deacon, Stephen (Ac 7.1-53); an evangelist, Philip (Ac 8.26-40); and two apostles, Peter (Ac 2.14-36; 3.12-26; 4.8-12; 10.34-43) and Paul (Ac 13.16-41; 17.22-31; 20.18-35; 22.1-21; 24.10-21; 26.2-23).

Paul notably includes Creation theology in two of his sermons, both addressed to practicing pagans. The first is in the city of Lystra, in modern Turkey, on his first missionary journey (Ac 14.6-7). When he comes across a disabled man, who had never been able to walk (Ac 14.8), he heals him (Ac 14.9-10). The locals assume that he and Barnabas are two Greek gods, Zeus and Hermes (Ac 14.11-12), and set about to worship them with sacrifices.

Paul responds by contrasting the Greek gods with the one true God—and he does so by pointing them to Creation. Zeus and Hermes, Paul says, are “vanities” (Ac 14.15a)—empty—but the God who created all things is clearly not (Ac 14.15b). This God has been patient (Ac 14.16), even giving all mankind freely whatever they need to survive (Ac 14.17). Luke does not describe any immediate reaction to this sermon, but he does note that some time later, on their return trip, Paul and Barnabas do minister to “disciples” there (Ac 14.21-22).

Paul’s second use of Creation theology is much more well known. On his second journey he leaves his team behind to care for newly founded churches in Macedonia and travels by himself to Athens. There, grieved by the rampant idolatry he sees (Ac 17.16), he responds not only in the synagogue, but in the agora, the public marketplace (Ac 17.17). Some philosophers, intrigued by his ideas, take him to the Areopagus (“Ares’ Hill”*—there’s another Greek god), where formal philosophical discussions take place, and invite him to present his views (Ac 17.18-21).

Paul’s presentation is a masterpiece of audience adaptation. He begins with a local hook, a description of one of the local altars (Ac 17.23) “to the unknown god,” and he offers to present this deity.

This God, he says, has created the world and everything in it; how, then, could he live in a mere temple (Ac 17.24)? How could he benefit from anything we offer to him (Ac 17.25)? And since he directs the affairs of men and nations (Ac 17.26), our very presence here today is an offer of salvation from him to you (Ac 17.27).

And then, remarkably, he begins to quote their poets—extemporaneously!—as evidence that this God exists and is great and good. He had clearly studied their literature.

So, he says, repent (Ac 17.31), in preparation for the coming day of judgment; the God who has given all life can surely raise his Son from the dead (Ac 17.31) as judge of all the earth.

The Athenians do not respond well to the idea of resurrection; many of them view the body as something evil, from which we yearn to be freed by death. There is apparently no church planted there; in later years Paul will not write a letter to the Athenians. But there are a few converts, including a member of the city council, Dionysius the Areopagite (Ac 17.34).

To Paul, Creation matters. Very much.

* The hill is called “Mars’ Hill” today. Mars is the Roman god of war; Ares is the Greek. The name “Areopagus” is a clear reference to Ares.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Why Creation Matters, Part 9: The Gospels

March 30, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We turn now from the Old Testament to the New, from the Hebrew Scriptures to the Christian. This second section begins, of course, with the Gospels, the story of the earthly ministry of Jesus, the Messiah, the Christ. Because three of the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, and Luke—tell the story in very similar ways, we call them the Synoptic (“same view”) Gospels. And two of those, Matthew and Mark, report that Jesus bases the central human relationship, the basis of the family, on Creation.

Matthew 19.4

We know that Creation climaxed with God creating, not with his words but with his hands, two beings who were unlike all the others, in his image (Gen 1.26-27). He made them male and female and placed them together, naked and unashamed, as husband and wife (Gen 2.21-25).

Jesus does not see this event as allegory, myth, or fable. He alludes to the Genesis account and then even quotes a portion of it (Gen 2.24 in Mt 19.5), concluding,

Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder (Mt 19.6; compare the parallel account in Mk 10.6-9).

The social arrangement of marriage is based primarily not on convenience or even strongly felt emotion, but the historical fact of God’s creation of Adam and Eve for each other.

I was astonished at how cavalierly our society, with Obergefell, tossed aside the established social contract or covenant of marriage, after millennia—or if you’re an evolutionist, hundreds of millennia—of uninterrupted precedent. We are a society without foundation, without stability, and thus without any sort of predictable future.

John 1.3

The fourth Gospel begins with Creation theology. John, writing decades later than the Synoptists, starts with a Prologue (John 1.1-18) that has been recognized as among the most significant literary works ever composed. He introduced Jesus not primarily as the Anointed One (Christ) from God, but as God himself, the Word by which God created. He made all things (Jn 1.3); he is life, and light, the light that overwhelmed the initial darkness (Jn 1.4-5). He is not the light brought by a mere messenger, a prophet (Jn 1.6-8), but the true light, the universal light (Jn 1.9).

We know from the Creation account that there was light from the very beginning (Gen 1.3), before there was a sun or moon (Gen 1.14-18). Now John tells us that Jesus not only spoke light into existence, but that he was himself the light. He enlightened the cosmos at the beginning, in a physical sense; but as John tells the story of his life, we will find that Jesus brings a very different, and more powerful and significant, kind of light; he not only gives sight to the man born blind—essentially creating from clay, as at the beginning, a pair of functioning eyes that the man had never possessed (Jn 9.1-7), but also presenting himself as the enlightener of the soul to all who will believe (Jn 9.30; 1.10-12).

John concludes his Prologue by identifying Jesus as the source of grace and truth (Jn 1.17), the means by which we ordinary humans can see spiritual as well as physical light. He is the one who “declares” the Father (Jn 1.18). This word in the original is exegeomai, the source of the English word exegete. Jesus shows us precisely, perfectly, who God is and what he is like, enabling us to know him.

Light.

This Easter Week is a good time to think on these things. Crucifixion, atonement, and earth-shaking resurrection.

What a Saviour.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

On Sound Speech, Part 8: Closing Thoughts

February 3, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Well, we’ve covered some ground here. The Bible has a lot to say about sound speech. We have a lot of things to consider before we go shooting our mouths off.

Recall that we began this series by reviewing, briefly, how God speaks, under the assumption that as in other things, we ought to pattern our behavior, as much as possible, after his.

God is slow to wrath; we should be too.

God cannot lie; we should speak the truth.

God is love; we should speak that truth in love.

God has spoken in his Word; we should speak as though imbued with it.

God speaks as one way of his caring for us; we should speak thankfully.

God blesses; we should bless.

God is gentle; we should speak gently.

God speaks in ways that reflect who he is at heart; we should as well. And unlike God, we should conform our hearts to the right, something he has never needed to do.

Let’s cap this series with one more passage:

⁷In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works: in doctrine shewing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, ⁸Sound speech, that cannot be condemned; that he that is of the contrary part may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of you (Ti 2.7-8).

I’d suggest that we’re more likely to damage our reputation by our words than by our actions. Of course, we’re susceptible to doing bad things reactively, without much thought, in the heat of the moment; but words—the words come so easily. Good behavior is a laudable goal; but sound speech is the ultimate testimony to a godly heart.

It could go without saying—but it won’t—that we can’t reach this goal without supernatural empowerment. The Spirit of God, indwelling us, works in us day by day, moment by moment, bit by bit, to conform us to the image of God the Son (2Co 3.18). And one day, no matter how far short of perfection we fall, God will bring us to completion, to perfect conformity to Christ:

We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1J 3.2).

But sanctification is a synergistic process; God works, but so do we, in cooperation with him. Let’s not just sit back and wait to be whanged in the head with glorification, as if by a faith healer on TV. Let’s take part in the process, seeking aggressively and thoughtfully to follow the biblical injunctions.

What would your world be like if your friends and acquaintances always spoke to you like that? 

What would your world be like if you always spoke to your friends and acquaintances like that? 

Can you imagine the growth? The spiritual strength? The peace? The joy? 

Can you imagine a world where we can speak kindly, yet with conviction, to people with whom we disagree? Where we can come to understandings, even agreements, instead of canceling people, one after another, for as long as time endures? 

Can you imagine? 

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 7

January 30, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Gentleness

Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear (1P 3.15).

Here the KJV uses the word meekness. Outside of Christian circles, influenced by the biblical language, our culture doesn’t use the word much. When we hear it, some are inclined to think of Casper Milquetoast, or a hen-pecked husband, or the guy the bullies kick sand on at the beach.

But if you’ve spent much time hearing sermons in church, you probably know that the biblical word means something very different from that. Meekness is strength tempered by gentleness; it’s power under control. It’s the weightlifter gently cradling his infant child in his arms; it’s the firefighter gently rescuing the kitten from the tree. It’s Jesus being moved by the sight of a widow escorting the body of her only son to his tomb, and saying to himself, “This will not stand!”—and then mightily raising the boy to life again and returning him to his mother.

Moses was meek, the veritable champion of meekness (Nu 12.3), yet he killed an Egyptian taskmaster and buried his corpse in the desert (Ex 2.11-12). He stood up to a group of bullies so that some young women could access a well to water their father’s flock (Ex 2.16-17). He led 2 million or so complaining Israelites—and Egyptian hangers-on—through 40 years of wandering in the wilderness after representing them before the God of heaven on Mount Sinai.

Moses was no pushover.

And his strength wasn’t always controlled; there was that Egyptian taskmaster, and there was also a time when he struck a rock in anger (Nu 20.7-12), thereby disqualifying himself from entrance into the Promised Land—at least until Jesus gave him a special invitation (Mt 17.3).

It’s possible to speak powerfully, yet meekly, and without sin. Someone asks us about the reason for our hope, and we can speak powerful words, but with an attitude that doesn’t drive him away unnecessarily.

Note that Peter here combines meekness with fear. Why the connection? I’d suggest that fear—respect—will encourage meekness. Of course, if we fear God, we’re going to represent him truthfully, reflecting, insofar as we can, his gentle character. And if we respect the person we’re answering, we won’t push him around, cut him off, or otherwise act toward him in ways inappropriate for someone in the image of God.

We don’t live in a gentle age. And because we don’t, gentleness will stand out against the chaotic social and cultural background.

Be the gentle one.

Genuineness

Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh (Mt 12.34 // Lk 6.45).

We should speak from our hearts. But that’s not really the point here: we all do indeed speak from our hearts, and that’s the source of a lot of our problems.

Your words demonstrate what you are on the inside; they paint a picture of the real you. And to the extent that the real us isn’t consistent with the characteristics of sound speech that we’ve been considering, we’re our own worst enemy.

In Part 4 of this series we talked about truthfulness. What we say ought to be the truth, and thus it ought to be an accurate, genuine reflection of who we are.

And that means that in order to speak soundly, we need to be healed from the inside out. We need to be regenerated, to be brought from spiritual death to spiritual life.

What I’m describing, of course, is what the Bible calls salvation, or justification, or conversion. I hope that you have entered that gate; if not, I hope you will—and if I can help you with that, please let me know.

No judgment.

But until then, you won’t be able to engage consistently in sound speech.

Even after conversion, this is a growing process; I’m not there yet, and neither are you.

But with time, improvement comes. May we all speak consistently with our heart, and in edifying ways as well.

A bit more to think about, in one last post.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 6

January 27, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Thankfully

We live under the shadow of God’s providence—his provision, his direction, his protection. All of our life springs from that truth. So when we speak to him, we should speak thankfully.

And when we speak to others, we should speak thankfully as well, because their presence in our lives, and the things their presence supplies, are all acts of God’s providence too.

¹Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children; ²And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour. ³But fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints; ⁴Neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor jesting, which are not convenient: but rather giving of thanks (Ep 5.1-4).

Recognition of God’s care for us will make us thankful for the care of others. Thankful to God, and thankful to them—and thankful enough to be inclined to express that thankfulness verbally. Thankful enough not to undercut their joy with “filthiness, [or] foolish talking, [or] jesting.”

It’s worth noting here that the prohibition of “jesting” doesn’t mean we shouldn’t tell jokes or comment on funny things. That word is talking about so-called “locker-room talk”: crude or coarse or obscene speech. It makes no sense to talk that way to people we’re thankful for. As noted earlier, we’re called to build others up, not tear them down.

Blessing

Several passages speak of the importance of blessing, rather than cursing, with our words.

⁹Therewith [i.e, with the tongue] bless we God, even the Father; and therewith curse we men, which are made after the similitude of God. ¹⁰Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be (Jam 3.9-10).

Not rendering evil for evil, or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing; knowing that ye are thereunto called, that ye should inherit a blessing (1P 3.9).

Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not (Ro 12.14).

Of course, this idea derives from the principle of edification; cursing doesn’t build people up.

We live in a hostile age. A great many people are angry at those who disagree with them, and they feel free to express that anger frankly and publicly on social media. In a sense that’s not new; people have always been angry at those who disagree with them, but it hasn’t always been possible for pretty much anybody to be his own publisher. A generation or two ago, people used the privacy of their cars to cuss out other drivers in ways they would never do to their faces. The spirit of cursing has always been with us. (I should note, I suppose, that by “cursing” here I don’t mean using bad language; I mean the opposite of blessing.)

What does it take for us to be speakers of blessing rather than cursing?

Well, to start with, it means we have to pay attention—to notice the good things in others, and not just the good things they do for us (we’ve already mentioned thankfulness), but all their good qualities. We need to pay closer attention to those around us than we do to our own interests, of whatever sort.

It also means that we need to speak up about those things. For some of us that means overcoming shyness; for others it means getting serious instead of just joshing people all the time.

Sometimes, for the sort of blessing that is more appropriate in private, we need to seek out private time with the person in order to deliver that message—as a teacher, for example, I can’t comment on a student’s academic performance in front of other students. But very often, we ought to consider speaking that blessing publicly, so others will hear it, and so the person we’re blessing will know that others have heard it.

Dale Carnegie didn’t invent this idea; it comes straight from the Bible.

Yet more next time.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

On Sound Speech, Part 5 

January 20, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

How else can we speak like God?

Lovingly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Biblically

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We can do better than we do.

There’s lots more. See you next time.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay