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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After Christmas 

December 26, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

They say that it’s not the fall that kills you; it’s the sudden stop at the end. 

Christmas is a loooooong season, and then a sudden stop. 

It’s a long season, of course, because that’s when the retailers make pretty much all their money for the year, so the hype is insistent, intrusive, and extended. 

Everybody knows that. 

And then comes the 25th, when there’s an explosion of gift-opening, a feast, and then maybe a football game or two while the children play with the boxes that their toys came in. 

And then. 

It’s over. 

The Sudden Stop. 

If you buy into the commercialism and consumerism and Clausism, then that can be a pretty depressing time. 

But it shouldn’t be. 

It shouldn’t be, you see, because you shouldn’t buy into the 3 C’s—because as we know, Christmas is not about the 3 C’s. And it isn’t even about the stuff that TV movies have in mind when they talk about “the true meaning of Christmas”—by which they mean family, and giving, and snow. 

Which kinda leaves out the Southern Hemisphere, doesn’t it? 

Seems like “the true meaning of Christmas” should include everybody. 

I’d suggest that the most important element of “the true meaning of Christmas” is that it’s not an end, but a beginning. 

It was an end to Mary’s pregnancy, of course, and that was undoubtedly a great relief to her. But all mothers, and most dads, know that a birth is a beginning to a far greater commitment to the raising of the child and preparation for his life mission. 

And in the case of this child, the Son of God, the life mission is the most important one in all of history. 

I’ve meditated before on the many mysteries surrounding the development of this unique child, the God-man. The questions are beyond our understanding, and speculation doesn’t really get us anywhere except to increase our wonder and awe at this person. We are mystified by our Elder Brother (Ro 8.29). 

We assume Mary and Joseph pursued his education in pretty much the normal way, but at least by age 12 he was aware that he had a mission far beyond that of his brothers or his parent(s). As an adult, even in the middle of the greatest crisis of his earthly life, he commented, 

Now is my soul troubled; and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour: but for this cause came I unto this hour (Jn 12.27). 

That “cause,” or mission, as we know, was to die, and to die no ordinary death, but one that embraces the wrath of God upon all sinners for all the sins of all time. 

And more than that—if “more” is the right word—to live in perfect obedience to the Law, thereby accomplishing the righteousness that will be available as a gift to all who come to him in faith and repentance. 

And even more than that. 

He came to save us, yes (Mt 20.28). But even that salvation comes in stages. Justification, conversion, is just the beginning of a lifelong path of sanctification and eventual glorification. 

And even more. 

As we noted in a recent series, the final goal—the real goal, if I can put it that way—is union and fellowship. This baby, this Immanuel, is God becoming one of us, to be united with the human race forever, to be our spouse in an eternal, intimate marriage. 

And so yesterday we celebrated the birth of this unique infant, but today is the first day of All the Rest of It. 

Lots to treasure now, and lots to look forward to. 

Note: I wrote this post before I read this.

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Filed Under: Culture Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

On Christmas

December 23, 2024 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

This is my last blog post before Christmas. Feels like I should write about that. I suppose I could consider my just-concluded series on “Immanuel” an extended Christmas post, especially considering the photo I chose for it, but I feel like writing more directly about the holiday. So here goes. 

Aging changes your perspective on things, and Christmas is no exception. 

When I was a kid, Christmas was all about the anticipation: What am I gonna get for Christmas? In those days my family was relatively poor. That’s not quite the right word; we had a place to live, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. But we didn’t have what you might call high liquidity, so not much discretionary income. At Christmas each of us kids would get one present. (I remember one Christmas—I guess I was about 8—when I got a football and a helmet, and I could scarcely contain myself.) 

Eventually I realized that I should give gifts as well as receive them. I picked a book off our bookshelf and wrapped it up for my Mom. She was highly amused, especially since it was a book she had owned since the 1940s. 

And yes, eventually I decided to buy gifts rather than just scrounge them from around the house. 

But now I think differently, in ways that most people my age do. 

When loved ones ask me what I want for Christmas, I usually can’t think of anything. I have all I need, and a lot of things I don’t need. These days I’m trying to get rid of stuff. I’ve even tried offering my books to my students, and I find that hardly anybody uses books anymore; they use electronic, and so do I. (I love the fact that when I teach overseas, I can take my entire electronic library—thousands of titles—on my laptop, which fits comfortably under the seat in front of me. And I also love the fact that I can make the type bigger. And that I can search my ebooks electronically. And I like lots of other stuff about them.) 

Anybody want some books? I’m serious. 

Um, back to Christmas gifts. 

If something I have breaks—most recently, my espresso maker—I can just get a new one; no need to wait for Christmas. And just for the record, I don’t wear ties anymore, so don’t even. 

I find it’s not about the presents anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. 

What is it for me? 

It’s family. All of us together, enjoying the experience. Feasting together. Telling stories. Reminiscing. Opening presents, sure, but the joy I get is more from watching them open theirs.  

Recently I’ve noticed that I’m also enjoying the season more. Christmas music—the sacred kind—is meaning more to me than it used to. I find the secular stuff mostly just irritating; I have no desire to rock around the Christmas tree, and I wouldn’t recognize Mariah Carey’s voice if I heard it. Though, come to think of it, I can still dream about a white Christmas, though of course it’ll never happen here in the upstate of South Carolina. And the occasional silver bell is okay too. 

Another nice feature of the season is the lights and decorations. The neighborhoods look good, and I especially like the decorations along the main street in the small southern towns—you know, with the single row of brick storefronts and the railroad tracks just across the street. Banners from the light posts and strings of lights crisscrossing the street, just high enough for the trucks to get under. 

Calm. Contentment. Joy. Peace. 

Merry Christmas. 

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Filed Under: Culture, Personal Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

On Christmas

December 25, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

This Christmas season I’ve been meditating on the Virgin Birth of Christ.

We all know the story. Mary gives birth to a baby boy without the participation of a human father. Some anti-trinitarians charge that this is unseemly—that God the Father, or God the Holy Spirit, had sex with a Jewish teenaged girl. This is of course ridiculous and blasphemous. If Mary had had sex with God, then she wouldn’t be a virgin, would she?

The whole point of the story is that this is a birth unlike any other. God, the Creator, caused an embryo to form in Mary’s womb, and she gestated and bore the baby in the normal way.

I suppose that means that Jesus shared Mary’s DNA—that just as the human authors participated with the divine Spirit in the work of inspiration, so Mary participated in the origin and development of the human Jesus; whom the Bible repeatedly identifies as a “son of David.” But we are not informed of the details.

Why did this happen? Why was Jesus not born, in God’s providence, in the ordinary way?

The Bible doesn’t tell us.

Bishop Ussher, the same man who calculated the Creation to have occurred in 4004 BC, postulated that the Virgin Birth kept the defilement of Adam’s sin from passing to Mary’s baby:

“For sin having by that one man entered into the world, every father becometh an Adam unto his child, and conveyeth the corruption of his nature unto all that he doth beget. Therefore our Savior assuming the substance of our nature, but not by the ordinary way of natural generation, is thereby freed from all the touch and taint of the corruption of our flesh; which by that means only is propagated from the first man unto his posterity. Whereupon he being man of man but not by man, and so becoming the immediate fruit of the womb and not of the loins, must of necessity be acknowledged to be that HOLY THING” (James Ussher, The Incarnation of the Son of God, 12).

Paul Enns, author of The Moody Handbook of Theology, agrees:

“The virgin birth was the means whereby the incarnation took place and guaranteed the sinlessness of the Son of God.”

Charles Ryrie takes exception:

“The Virgin Birth … need not be the necessary means of preserving the sinlessness of Christ, since God could have overshadowed two parents so as to protect the baby’s sinlessness had he so desired” (Basic Theology).

Ryrie goes on to say,

“It served as a sign of the uniqueness of the person who was born.”

Since we get our fallen natures from our mothers as well as our fathers—women are sinners too—Ussher’s thesis seems flawed, and Ryrie appears to be right.

I recently read Mitch Chase’s article “Six Reasons for the Virgin Birth,” which seems to me to handle this particular question well:

”There seems to be a connection between the virginal conception of Jesus and the sinlessness of Jesus. Exactly how that connection exists is debated. … The language of Luke 1:35 doesn’t mean that sin is only biologically transmitted through a human father. Mary was a sinner with a sinful nature. However, the work of the Holy Spirit ensured that the human nature of Jesus in the womb of Mary was holy and without corruption.”

Chase goes on to list other reasons for the Virgin Birth; I commend the entire article for your consideration.

Jesus is the only case of God becoming man. We have trouble understanding unique things, and this is no exception. There is much mystery here. The early church spent 400 years wrestling with the question and never did explain it.

But God has become man, and perfect man at that, and will remain one of us for all time and beyond.

We have much to celebrate and meditate on in these days.

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Filed Under: Culture Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

On Christmas

December 22, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

I usually write a new post every Christmas, but this year I’d like to direct you to a brief series on the topic that I wrote in 2018.

Merry Christmas!

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Filed Under: Theology, Worship Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

On Christmas

December 23, 2021 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

This Christmas season I’d like to engage in a thought experiment by telling a story that I’m pretty sure never happened.

__________

An angel walks into the Executive Office Wing of heaven and steps up to the receptionist.

“I’d like to see the Son, please.”

The receptionist replies, “I’m sorry, but you can’t see the Son right now.”

Now, this is the first time those words have ever been uttered. The angel is taken aback.

“I can’t?! Why not?!”

“Well, he’s not in.”

“He’s not in?! What do you mean, ‘He’s not in’?! He’s omnipresent; how can he be ‘not in’?!”

“Well, he’s not here.”

The angel sputters.

“OK, you’re not making any sense, but I’ll play your little game. ‘Where’ is he? If you’ll tell me ‘where’ he is, I’ll go ‘there’ and talk to him.”

“Well, I could tell you where he is, but even if you go there, you won’t be able to talk to him.”

“Why not?”

“Well …”

The receptionist pauses for an awkwardly long time.

“Um, he can’t talk.”

The angel is apoplectic.

“He can’t talk?! What kind of nonsense is this?!”

“Well, … he’s a fetus.”

__________

There are several reasons that I’m fairly sure this scene never happened.

For one thing, while I suppose it’s possible that the executive offices of heaven have a receptionist, there don’t seem to be any of the usual reasons why one would be needed, and there’s no biblical indication of such a position.

Second, my story has a logical problem. Why is the angel bamboozled by the concept of “going there” to talk to the Son, if he’s come to the Executive Office Wing to talk to him?

For another, I’m quite doubtful that any unfallen angel was surprised by the incarnation. This event had been predicted in the Garden of Eden—possibly by the Son himself—and angels seem to be the kinds of persons who pay attention.

So it almost certainly never happened.

But it illustrates a few of the complexities that we celebrate at this time of year—complexities that we often gloss over because we’re just so familiar with the whole concept that God became man.

What an incomprehensible thing.

What happened when a member of the Godhead became germinal (pre-embryonic)? Did he, unlike other germinals, know what was happening? If his knowledge was limited in some ways during his season on earth (Mk 13.32), how extensive was that limitation, and did it change over time? If he is fully human, did he have to grow a brain during his embryonic stage? And if so, did he have any human consciousness before his brain developed?

The Bible tells us that the Son is the agent of providence; by him all things hold together (Col 1.17). Was he maintaining the universe and directing the affairs of people and nations while he was a fetus? Or is there some sort of 25th Amendment in heaven, whereby the Son hands over those responsibilities to the Father or the Spirit while he’s temporarily intellectually incapacitated?

We have no idea what we’re talking about.

He learned, right? How did that work?

Did the 12-month-old Jesus walk the first time he tried, or did he “fall down and go boom” while learning? Did Joseph ever say to him, “Now, Son, if you hold the hammer that way, one of these days you’re going to hurt yourself”? Did Mary ever say the Aramaic equivalent of “No, Jesus, it’s not ‘Can me and Simeon go out and play,’ but ‘Can Simeon and I go out and play’ “?

The Bible doesn’t speak to these things. It does tell us that he developed “in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man” (Lk 2.52). How did he grow in favor with God?!

I’ve studied the Son at a serious level for five decades. And the more I think and read, the more convinced I am that there is more to this person than we will ever know. And there is more to the Incarnation—to Christmas—than we can possibly conceive.

At some point, we simply have to thank the Almighty.

And worship.

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Filed Under: Theology, Worship Tagged With: Christmas, Christology, holidays, systematic theology

On Joseph

December 24, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Christmas is tomorrow. Since my Christmas post for last year was about Mary, it makes sense that this year I should say something about Joseph.

We know precious little about him. If, as most scholars believe, the genealogy in Matthew 1 is that of Joseph, then he was the royal descendant of David in his generation—the heir to the throne of Israel. I suspect he knew that; the Jews kept track of such things, as is evidenced by the simple fact that the genealogy is produced in Matthew 1. If he was the heir, he certainly knew that he was.

But he also knew that he would never be king. First, because Rome. Caesar Augustus would never tolerate such a thing; he had installed a puppet, Herod, and called him “king,” but Herod wasn’t even really Jewish—he was Idumaean—and the Jews hated him as an interloper and collaborator with the hated Romans.

There was another reason Joseph knew he would never be king. God had cursed his ancestor, Jehoiachin (Jeconiah, or just Coniah), the last Davidic king of Judah (Jer 22.30), saying that none of his offspring would ever rule. Some scholars think that God reversed that curse with Zerubbabel (Hag 2.23), but Zerubbabel never ruled, nor did any of his offspring clear up to Joseph’s day.

So Joseph is a carpenter (Mt 13.55), or perhaps a mason. He works with his hands, in the village of Nazareth, in Israel’s backwater (Jn 1.46).

And that’s that.

Under circumstances we’re not told, he becomes engaged to a Jewish girl. She gives evidence of true godliness. He’ll be able to support her and their eventual children. This will be good.

And then.

She’s pregnant.

He didn’t do it.

It all comes crashing down. Yet another curse.

He can’t sensibly give his life to a woman who has so deeply and thoroughly deceived him. The Law gives him an out, however; he can “divorce” her for fornication. The legal penalty is stoning, but he doesn’t want a big scene, or even personal vengeance. We’ll just handle this quietly and move on.

Like Mary, as it turns out, Joseph doesn’t understand either. It’s not what he thinks.

After 400 years of silence, God steps in to ensure the success of the hinge point of all history.

Joseph is asleep—that’s surprising in itself—and God sends a messenger in his dreams.

It’s not what you think, Joseph. Mary is not unfaithful. God is doing a work, a great work, an epochal work. Her child will save his people from their sins.

You need to adopt him.

Like Mary, Joseph knows what the social consequences of that will be. There will be a community wink and nod—we thought that’s who the culprit was. Joseph’s reputation will be ruined. What of his business? How will he support his family?

Adopt the child.

Why is that so important?

Remember the curse?

No biological son of Jehoiachin—or of Joseph—will ever sit on David’s throne. But only a descendant of David—through Solomon—can sit there.

Mary, too, is descended from David, but through his son Nathan, not Solomon (Lk 3). Her son has no claim to the throne by bloodline.

But if Joseph … adopts … the boy …

everything changes.

And there, sitting on his mat, in the dark of night, in a backwater village, a carpenter makes his decision.

He’ll trust, and obey.

Like millions of others before and since.

But unlike any of those others, at the key hinge point of all salvation history.

Next to the obedience of the Son Himself, the most important act of obedience ever.

And hardly anybody even noticed.

Joseph shows up one more time in the Bible, when Jesus is twelve. But after that, he disappears. No one knows what else this critically important man did or how or where he died.

_____

I’m not much for statements about what I’ll do when I get to heaven. I think the Lamb will be the focus of all of it.

But I hope I’ll have a chance to find Joseph and say thanks.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

On Mary

December 23, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

As my Christmas post this year, I’d like to share some thoughts about Mary.

The first thing I notice about her, which may surprise some people, is how ordinary she is. Like you and me, she has difficulty understanding and even accepting God’s plan. Like any other woman, she’s puzzled by Gabriel’s announcement that she is to have a son (Lk 1.34). I’m not criticizing her; my point is that her response is completely understandable—completely ordinary. At the visit to the Temple for the baby’s circumcision, she’s surprised by Simeon’s exalted blessing over the child (Lk 2.33). When Jesus is 12, she questions his respect for her and Joseph, drawing a mild rebuke (Lk 2.48-49). At the wedding where Jesus will perform his first recorded miracle, she appears to have priorities that her son needs to correct (Jn 2.3-4). And in the most surprising episode of all, Mark, writing under Peter’s direction, seems to suggest that Mary and her other sons thought Jesus was mentally unbalanced (Mk 3.21, 31)—something consistent with John’s direct statement that during his earthly ministry, Jesus’ brothers did not believe on him (Jn 7.5).

Mary appears to respond to her unique situation pretty much as we would. It’s all pretty confusing; there’s a lot she doesn’t appear to understand.

There’s no evidence in the Scripture that Mary herself is immaculately conceived, or that she was perpetually a virgin—as though sex isn’t something really holy people do (Heb 13.4)—or that she is sinless. Yes, she is said to be “full of grace” (Lk 1.28), a statement that has given rise to the idea of a “treasury of merit” into which she and other “saints” have deposited (Catechism of the Catholic Church 1477); but the same Greek expression (charitoo) is used of all believers over in Eph 1.6. We’re all “full of grace,” by God’s grace.

So she’s ordinary, like us.

But.

In her confusion and wonder, she trusts God and consequently pleases him.

When told she’s going to have a child out of wedlock without having done anything wrong, she agrees to the arrangement (Lk 1.38). She knew there would be significant negative social consequences for this; virgin births were no more common in her day than they are in ours. Nobody would believe her. Indeed, 30 or more years later Jesus’ enemies threw his “illegitimacy” back in his face (Jn 8.41).

She treasured Jesus’ words even in confrontational situations (Lk 2.51). After her son’s mild rebuke at the wedding in Cana, she instructed the servants to hear and obey him (Jn 2.5).

She was a woman of grace and dignified accession to the will of God.

And where did that come from?

We don’t know anything about Mary’s childhood or upbringing, but we can see evidences of it in her speech. When we carefully study her most famous statement, the “Magnificat” (Lk 1.46-55), we find an apparently extemporaneous speech astonishingly filled with Scripture: she quotes
or alludes
to about 19 different verses in 5 different Old Testament books from all 3 of the sections of the Hebrew canon—Genesis and Deuteronomy from the Law, Isaiah from the Prophets, and Samuel and Psalms from the Writings. This in spite of the fact that it was common for Jewish girls in that day to be illiterate, and even if she could read, she certainly did not own copies of the Scrolls, which were prohibitively expensive. Most likely she listened at synagogue—from the women’s section—and committed those passages to memory, deeply meditating on them to the point where she could weave them—artfully—into an extemporaneous expression of gratitude to God in the midst of deep social embarrassment.

With all of our education and all of our copies of the Scripture, few of us today could do something even remotely similar.

Mary kept things in her heart (Lk 2.19, 51). She treasured the words and works of God.

What a rebuke she is to our shallow and reactionary thinking.

What a model for all of us to follow.

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Filed Under: Bible Tagged With: Christmas, holidays

The Names of Christmas, Part 3

December 24, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2

So both of the Christmas names—Jesus and Immanuel—highlight the fact of the Incarnation, that God became one of us. As I put it last time, the eternal God the Son added to his (divine) nature, or set of characteristics, a second, human nature, a different set of characteristics.

That’s a unique event. No other person, not even the Father or the Spirit, has ever had two natures.

We have trouble with unique things, because we like to learn by comparing the new thing to something we already know. And when there’s nothing to compare the new thing to, we end up scratching our heads and asking questions that we have insufficient data to answer.

How does a divine person add a human nature? How does any person add any second nature?

The early church spent 400 years trying to figure that one out, and pretty much every theory they came up with along the way was a heresy. Finally, in AD 451, at the Council of Chalcedon, they managed to formulate a statement of what happened—a statement that has stood the test of the centuries since—but they gave up forever the possibility of actually explaining it.

Really—how does a person with two natures live out his life? How does he think? How can he be both mortal and immortal? How can he be both omnipresent and corporeal? How can he be omniscient and yet say, matter-of-factly, “I don’t know when I’m coming back” (Mk 13.32)?

I’d like to make up a story that I’m pretty sure never happened, just to make the point.

—–

An angel shows up in the executive wing of heaven and approaches the receptionist.

“I’d like to see the Son, please,” he says.

The receptionist replies, “I’m sorry, but you can’t.”

Now, that answer has never before been given to that request, so the angel is puzzled.

“I can’t?! What kind of an answer is that?! Why can’t I?”

“Because he’s not here. He’s out of the office.”

The angel is nonplussed, whatever that means.

“What do you mean, he’s ‘not here’?! He’s omnipresent. How can he not be here? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to explain, but I assure you that he’s not here.”

The angel, perplexed, gives in.

“OK, I’ll play your little game. He’s ‘not here.’ Well, then, ‘where’ is he? I’ll go ‘there’ and see him.”

The receptionist takes a deep breath.

“Well, I can tell you where he is, and you can go there, but even if you do, you won’t be able to see him.”

“Why not?”

Another deep breath.

“Because he can’t talk.”

“He can’t talk?! Are you kidding me?! How can he not talk?!”

The receptionist clears her throat.

“Because he’s a fetus. He’s not going to be able to talk for a couple of years yet.”

—–

As I say, I’m pretty sure this never happened, first, because our imagined angel seems a little impatient for somebody who’s not a sinner, and more importantly, I don’t think any angels were surprised by the incarnation. Oh—and I doubt that the executive wing of heaven has a receptionist, although I can’t be completely sure of that.

But let’s take some time to think about this.

Paul tells us that among other things, the Son is the agent of providence—by him, all things are held together (Col 1.17). As far as I know, there’s no 25th Amendment in the Constitution of Heaven, whereby a member of the Godhead passes off his duties to another member in anticipation of his temporary incapacitation. So is the Son running the universe from Mary’s womb? as a fetus? as an embryo?

Is it true that “little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes”? Does he learn to walk the first time he tries, or does he “fall down and go boom”? Does Mary ever have to correct his grammar? Does he always get A’s in school? Does Joseph ever have to tell him, “Now, Joshua, if you keep holding the hammer that way, you’re going to hit your thumb!”?

My friend, you think you know this person, but there is more to him than you can ever know. He is unfathomable, unimaginable, indecipherable.

And he did this for you. When you were his enemy and determined to stay that way.

Immanuel. God with us.

Merry Christmas.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christmas, Christology, holidays, incarnation, providence, systematic theology

The Names of Christmas, Part 2

December 20, 2018 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Part 1

Last time we noted what the name Jesus means—and that enabled us to understand what the angel is saying to Joseph in Matthew 1—this baby is Yahweh himself, the one who saves his people from their sins.

God has become one of us.

Now Matthew’s commentary on the angel’s words follows unavoidably:

22 Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, 23 Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.

Matthew is writing to Jews, presenting Jesus as the Messiah, the Christ. One of the most obvious ways he does this is by citing prophecies from the Hebrew Scriptures, what we call the Old Testament, and showing specifically how Jesus fulfills those prophecies. Note how often he says, “All this was done, that it might be fulfilled,” or something similar—

  • Here, of the incarnation
  • 2.15, of his time in Egypt
  • 2.17, of the slaughter of the innocents
  • 2.23, of his upbringing in Nazareth
  • 4.14, of his preaching in Decapolis
  • 8.17, of his healing ministry
  • 12.17, of the Messianic secret
  • 13.13, of the resistance by the religious leaders
  • 13.35, of his parables
  • 21.4, of the triumphal entry
  • 26.54, 56, of his arrest, trial, and execution
  • 27.9, of his betrayal
  • 27.35, of the soldiers’ casting of lots

The first prophecy he chooses to cite reveals the second name of Christmas.

Emmanuel. God with us.

I suspect that neither Isaiah nor his hearers understood the prophecy. They probably thought, God is with us, as he has been with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, and with David and Solomon, and with our people throughout our history.

Yes, it includes that idea, but the prophecy embraces a much more intimate “with” than that.

He is going to join us, to become one of us. He’s going to be not just present, but identified with us.

In theological terms, the person of the Son, eternally existent with a divine nature, is going to add to his person a second nature, a human one. He’s going to get tired, and get hurt, and die.

And he’s going to keep that human nature forever.

It amazes me that when God created the world, he knew that giving humans the ability to have a healthy relationship involved giving them the ability to choose—and that meant the ability to choose wrong. And that meant the possibility—nay, the certainty—of sin. And God knew that he would never allow his image to be permanently disfigured in such a way—that he would respond to our rebellion justly, with a sentence of death, and mercifully, with the opportunity for repentance and forgiveness. He would do whatever was necessary to be just and to justify—to rescue—his image. And he knew that justice would require an infinite sacrifice, which we would be unable to pay, and which he would be unable to pay either, because the penalty is death, and he cannot die.

So from the very beginning he knew that by creating humans, beings in his image, on whom he could bestow the joy of his friendship, he was committing himself to become one of them.

Forever.

What a commitment that was!

What a God he is!

Next time, a meditation on what happens when God becomes man.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christmas, Christology, deity of Christ, holidays, Matthew, New Testament, prophecy, systematic theology

The Names of Christmas, Part 1

December 17, 2018 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

PNo, I don’t mean the names of the day. I mean the names that arise out of what we celebrate at Christmas—the names of the Incarnate One.

What we call the Christmas Story introduces us to two names that are new, and meaningfully so. The first one is now so familiar to us that we’ve completely forgotten its meaning—if we ever knew it all. We meet it in Matthew’s account of the birth of the Son of God, in chapter 1—

18 Now the birth of Jesus Christ was on this wise: When as his mother Mary was espoused to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. 19 Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not willing to make her a publick example, was minded to put her away privily. 20 But while he thought on these things, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a dream, saying, Joseph, thou son of David, fear not to take unto thee Mary thy wife: for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Ghost. 21 And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name JESUS: for he shall save his people from their sins.

The first name that comes out of the Christmas Story is “Jesus.” We all know it well today; it’s the personal name of the Son, which he took on when he became human. But most of us completely miss the whole significance of the way it was introduced in Scripture.

To start with, the name has come to us through several languages, and as anyone named Juan or Jean or Johann or Ivan knows, names change when they cross languages. Jesus is the English form of the Greek Iesous, which in turn translates the Hebrew Yeshua, or its longer form Yehoshua, or, as we would say it, Joshua. Yes, Jesus’ name was just Joshua—which explains a bit of translational confusion in the KJV of Hebrews 4.8, where they give the impression that the author is speaking of Jesus giving rest, when he’s actually speaking of the OT Joshua taking Israel into the Promised Land. (See also Ac 7.45.)

Whew.

Where was I?

Have you ever wondered why the angel said to Joseph, “You must call his name Joshua, for he will save his people from their sins”? Have you ever noticed that subordinate conjunction in there, the one that identifies a causal link between the name and Jesus’ saving work?

To us English-speaking readers, that doesn’t make sense—or, more likely, we just sail on past it without even noticing that it doesn’t make sense, because the words are so familiar to us.

But that causal link is in there for a reason. It’s making an important point, one, I could argue, that is the most important point ever made by anyone.

Joseph would have gotten the point—it would have been as plain as day to him, and he would have understood its significance immediately. I suspect that’s why he unquestioningly obeyed the angel’s instructions. He adopted the child, risking—and probably ruining—his reputation in the process. If your fiancée is pregnant, and you marry her and adopt the child, everybody’s going to nod his head and smirk and wink knowingly. Uh-huh. We all know what that means, now, don’t we? And 30 years later they were still smirking when they tried to undercut Jesus’ authority by sneering, “We were not born of fornication!” (Jn 8.41).

Why did Joseph obey, unhesitatingly, when he knew what the cost of that obedience would be to his own reputation, and perhaps to his livelihood as a contractor?

Because he understood the meaning of the angel’s words. He understood the “for,” the causal link.

Because he knew what the name meant.

“Joshua,” you see, means “Yahweh saves.”

The angel said, “You must name him ‘Yahweh saves,’ ”—so far, so good—“because he will save his people from their sins!”

Do you see it?

“He”—the infant—no, the fetus—“he” is Yahweh!

The everlasting God, who makes covenants with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob—and keeps them—who sits high on the throne in Isaiah’s vision, whose train fills the temple, but who reveals himself to Israel by his first name—this God is now a fetus in the womb of a Jewish teenager.

This is much, much bigger than Joseph, or Mary, or shepherds, or wise men, or all of us put together. Nothing like this has ever happened before, or likely will ever happen again.

God has become one of us.

Next time, the second Christmas name.

Part 2 Part 3

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christmas, Christology, deity of Christ, holidays, Joseph, systematic theology

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