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

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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On Valentine’s Day

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This a time for romance. For love. For commitment. For loyalty.

Interestingly, God describes his relationship with his people in those terms.

We know that “God is love” (1Jn 4.8, 16)—that he has always been in relationship among the persons of the Godhead; he has never been alone. Love is natural for him; it’s part of who he is.

We know that “we love him because he first loved us” (1Jn 4.19)—that he initiated the relationship with us, even though we had wronged him (Ro 3.23). In fact, he lovingly anticipated that relationship before we even existed—before the earth itself existed (Ep 1.4).

We know that his most oft-repeated description of himself includes “lovingkindness” (Heb hesed), a far-reaching word not captured by any single English word, but including loving loyalty to a covenant relationship. It’s the attribute that keeps 60-year marriages together in spite of everything.

That’s the kind of relationship God wants with us.

We can imagine, then, how our sin must grieve his heart. In fact, he describes the sin of his people as adultery, violation of the marriage relationship.

I’ve been a believer for more than 60 years. Every day of those 60 years, I have fallen short of the glory of God. I’ve been unfaithful to the relationship.

That’s over 22,000 days of adultery.

How many would it take for you to give up on your spouse?

Yet God continues to welcome us back, to forgive our unfaithfulness, to restore the relationship.

Hesed.

God illustrates his love for us in a couple of stories he tells his people. One is in the book of Hosea, where he tells the prophet to marry a woman who will be unfaithful to him—as Israel has been unfaithful to their God.

It’s heartbreaking.

There’s another story, a less-well-known one, in Ezekiel 16.

Ezekiel is writing long after Hosea—so long, in fact, that Judah has now gone into captivity in Babylon, and Ezekiel is prophesying to them in the Jewish community there. He speaks God’s words to the community—

  • One day God found an abandoned baby by the side of the road, newborn, unwashed, unwanted. He took her home and cleaned her up, and then he began to provide for her needs: food, clothing, shelter. For years he raised her—lavishly—as his own daughter.
  • When she became an adult, a beautiful woman, his love for her led him to take her as his wife.
  • But she was unfaithful. She went after other lovers, not merely being seduced by them but seducing them, and aggressively. She pressured them; she even paid them. She made Sodom seem mild by comparison. She broke his heart.

What a horrifying account.

But it doesn’t end in divorce, or retaliation, or expulsion, or murder, or any of the things we would expect from a human relationship of this sort.

It ends in restoration, reunification, love.

And not because the unfaithful wife pleads for forgiveness.

Because the maltreated Husband remembers and is faithful to the marriage covenant, to the permanence of the relationship:

60 Nevertheless, I will remember My covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish an everlasting covenant with you. 61 … . 62 Thus I will establish My covenant with you, and you shall know that I am the Lord (Ezk 16.60, 62).

O wondrous love that will not let me go,
I cling to You with all my strength and soul;
Yet if my hold should ever fail
This wondrous love will never let me go!
(Steve and Vikki Cook)

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

On What We Learn from Looking Around, Part 4: TLC

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Omnipotence | Part 3: Omniscience

There’s something else we learn by observing creation carefully. Despite its brokenness, it seems to fit our needs just perfectly.

Our planet is in the solar system’s “Goldilocks zone”: like the fabled baby bear’s porridge, it’s “not too hot, not too cold—just right!” Further, the temperature is finely tuned by the planet’s slant on its axis, which gives most of the inhabited areas seasons—whether 4 or 2—and furthers the thriving of plant and animal life. And unlike its sister planet Mars, ours has an atmosphere, an ocean of air, with just the right amount of oxygen to support human and animal life, and just the right amount of nitrogen to keep the oxygen from causing us to burst into flame at inopportune moments. (And from what I’m told, all moments are inopportune for that.)

The balance of the biosphere is a remarkable thing; as we breath oxygen, we exhale carbon dioxide, which the plants use to produce more oxygen. Helpful little critters, no?

And it turns out that the sun that warms us and lights our days is also something of an enemy; it sends out radiation at levels that are harmful to us from even more than 90 million miles away. But invisibly surrounding our planet are streams of charged particles, driven from the sun but held in place around us by the planet’s magnetic field, that serve as a shield to divert the lethal levels of that radiation away from us.

Let’s see; what else?

Well, areas of the planet feel really crowded, and sometimes folks in those areas wish there were more land. I grew up in the West, “big sky country,” where we didn’t feel that pressure so much—and preferred it that way. I note that the planet’s average density of humans per square mile is just over 39—though of course, much of the planet’s land surface is uninhabitable (think Antarctica) or nearly so (think Sahara). But the Creator was being kind to limit the extent of the land mass, because the rest of the surface—ocean—is a gigantic water purification system that collects, distills, and then delivers drinkable water right to our feet.

Now, our environment’s not perfect. I mentioned a few words back that the system is broken. Lions choke wildebeests to death—I’ve seen it happen, up close and personal—without mercy and without apparent regret. Some people are inclined to focus on the brokenness; Jack London made a living writing stories about a nature that was “red in tooth and claw.” I think it’s important to note the brokenness, first, for our own preservation, and second, for evaluating the brokenness that we’re causing and then remedying it. After all, the Creator has made us responsible for the care and preservation of the planet as well as its wise use.

But the obvious brokenness makes creation’s general kindness all the more impressive. We deal everyday with things, creations of fellow humans, that don’t work at all when any little thing goes wrong. That’s why so many people make such good money repairing and maintaining expensive systems.

But creation just keeps doing what it does so well—supporting life. It amazes me how desperately life wants to continue. You can be out in the middle of a lava field, and there’s a little weed growing up through a crack, clinging to a few grains of something resembling dirt, raising its tiny leaves to the sky and soaking up the sun, yearning to grow.

Of course it’s true that by foolish mismanagement we humans can interfere with the Creator’s systems and make life difficult or even impossible (think Chernobyl). But it really is astonishing that a system so complex continues to support life after millennia of inattention or even abuse.

Whoever made all this must really, really like us.

Wherefore let them that suffer according to the will of God commit the keeping of their souls to him in well doing, as unto a faithful Creator (1P 4.19).

Part 5: Closing Thoughts

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Dealing with Intimidation, Part 4: Love

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

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

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

It may help if we begin by defining our terms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

How Not to Have a Civil War, Part 9: Love

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Acknowledging the Divide | Part 3: “Great Is Diana!” | Part 4: Letting Hate Drive | Part 5: Pants on Fire | Part 6: Turning Toward the Light | Part 7: Breaking Down the Walls | Part 8: Beyond Tolerance

Paul has begun laying out a lifestyle that brings unity and comity. It begins, he says, when we recognize that everyone, even our “enemy,” is in the image of God. We build on that recognition by exercising forgiveness, even as Christ has forgiven us. Now, in the longest section of our passage, Paul lays down a series of four attitudes that will drive our actions toward unifying the body of Christ and peacemaking in our social circle.

14 Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. 15 Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful. 16 Let the word of Christ richly dwell within you, with all wisdom teaching and admonishing one another with psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with thankfulness in your hearts to God. 17 Whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through Him to God the Father (Col 3).

He begins with love.

Love gets a lot of talk, but not much actual doing. And in fact, it’s as much about doing as it is about feeling. My longtime friend and colleague Randy Leedy has defined agape love as “a disposition of the will, a self-sacrificing commitment to secure the highest interests of its object, independent of the object’s attractiveness or the prospect of repayment.”

Notice a couple of things.

First, love is not just a feeling. It is a feeling, an emotion, of course. It is far from sterile.

We all know this. Those of us who are married know how ridiculous our union would be if there were no feeling—what an old roommate of mine used to call “zing.” We men don’t do things for our wives simply because it’s our duty—and our wives would not be pleased if we did. There is certainly an emotional component.

But there is action. None of us wants to hear “You say you love me, but … “ Love goes beyond the feeling; it takes action on behalf of the loved one.

When you love someone, you do something about it.

A second thing to notice is that love is fundamentally not self-centered. You’re not in the relationship just for what you can get out of it. We’ve looked at that idea earlier in this series with reference to sexual ethics. But it goes far beyond our sexual desire and expression. The one who loves is focused on the needs of the loved one, and he is oriented toward satisfying those needs to the extent that he can, with no limit to the sacrifice he is willing to make.

Jesus himself emphasized that idea when he said, “When you give a feast, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you” (Lk 14.13-14a).

You’re not living out love because your life will be better if you do. You’re living out love because life will be better for everybody else if you do.

Does this principle have implications for how we live during an election season? during a pandemic? during a period of racial strife?

You bet it does.

We are impelled to care lovingly for fellow believers who vote for Biden, or for Trump, or for Jorgensen, or even for nobody at all.

For those who protest in the streets, or for those who think that’s a sin.

For those who wear masks, or for those who refuse to.

Even for those who say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.”

Yes, even for Yankees fans.

The biblical lifestyle is one of serving, caring for those we find repulsive or those who mash all our buttons.

It’s not about winning.

Winning comes, eventually.

But not because we sought for it.

Part 10: Peace | Part 11: Encouragement | Part 12: Gratitude

Photo by Jens Lelie on Unsplash

7 Stabilizing Principles in a Chaotic World, Part 2

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Part 1

So, here we go. Principles to deliver us from the fear and anger that characterize too many of us.

Number 1: Providence. There is a God in heaven, who directs in the affairs of people and nations.

The lunatics are in fact not running the asylum. All that stuff that’s got you twisted into knots? Well, the stuff that’s actually true—we’ll get back to that idea later—has come to pass through divine intention. That’s just a fancy way of saying that God’s done it.

That’s true of the stuff we like—God sends sunshine, and rain, and crops, and seasons (Psa 104)—but it’s true of the stuff we don’t like as well. God has his way in the whirlwind and the storm, the prophet tells us (Nahum 1.3).

Whirlwinds are nothing to mess with. In 1998 a tornado wiped out Spencer, SD. A week later I was there. The whole town was just gone. The water tank on top of the hill? Gone. The gas station? Gone, though the concrete pads for the pumps were still there. The corn silos? Gone. The telephone poles? Twisted off 2 feet above the ground. No buildings, except for 1 house that was inexplicably spared. And the whole thing lasted just 6 minutes.

At 8.30 pm there was a town, and homes, and businesses, and normal life. By 8.45 it was all gone.

Who did that? The mayor? The governor? The devil?

Not according to Nahum.

God did it. For reasons of his own, which we may or may not ever understand.

But you know what? There’s still a Spencer, SD. By the grace of God, and through the hard work of a lot of remarkable people, life goes on at Karen’s Beauty Shop and Trinity Lutheran Church and the baseball field.

It’s not likely that anything worse than that has happened to you; if it has, I haven’t seen you post about it on Facebook.

And if it has, then take courage in this: God is working his plan, for you and for everybody else.

And here’s the thing. God isn’t impersonal, or arbitrary, or unfeeling in all of this. He doesn’t throw the switch on the train track just to see what will happen, or just to shake things up for some warped form of amusement.

God cares. He loves—personally, individually, intimately, passionately. And with a wisdom you and I could never fathom, he conducts the symphony of your life for your greatest spiritual benefit and for his greatest glory. He knows what he’s doing, and he acts out of wisely directed love—in a way no one else you have ever known ever could.

This God—the creator of heaven and earth; the keeper of covenant promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; the one watching over Israel, who neither slumbers nor sleeps; the lover of our very souls—this God is directing your steps, and mine, and everyone else’s to accomplish his perfect, delightful plan.

No, the lunatics are not running the asylum. God gave us Richard Nixon, and Jimmy Carter, and Ronald Reagan, and Barack Obama. And most recently he has given us Donald Trump. Love them or hate them, they are all—all—gifts from a wise and loving God, perfectly prepared and perfectly directed for the nation that elected them. That doesn’t mean they’re good, or wise, or effective. But it does mean that he is.

So why live in desperation, or rage, or panic, or frustration? Is there not a God in heaven? Do you not trust him? Does he not give peace?

Maybe, if you have no peace, you have no basis for it. Peace comes not from the political process, or health, or leisure, or physical resources. Peace, peace in your soul, comes from above, not from outside. Peace comes from the Prince of Peace (Isa 9.6), by whom we have peace with God (Rom 5.1), and through whom we find peace even with our enemies (Eph 3).

Think on these things. Breathe them into your reading, and listening, and surfing. And see if maybe your perspective, and thus your reactions, come to reflect peace more than panic.

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Photo by Keith Misner on Unsplash

On Christian Convictions, Legalism, and the Fear of Man, Part 7

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

In our working with this passage, so far we’ve covered just the first chapter, which sets the tone for the whole discussion. Today we’ll look at the rest.

As I noted in an earlier post, Paul lays down the basic principle in 1 Corinthians 8—since your brother’s spiritual health is more important than your personal freedom, you should sacrifice the latter for the former. In chapter 9, Paul uses himself as a personal example; in essence, he says, “I’ve sacrificed my rights for your benefit, so I’m not asking you to do anything I haven’t already done myself.”

In chapter 10, Paul gets more specific. Earlier I’ve said that Paul has agreed that the meat is fine, and that we are free to eat it. But that’s not really the whole story. The meat’s fine, indeed; but you’re not free to eat it in every circumstance. Here he gives three case studies—a no, a yes, and a maybe.

He begins by talking about worship (1Co 10.1-22). Remember how Israel fell into idolatry in the wilderness (1Co 10.1-15)? You can’t do that. You can’t participate in false worship, because worship matters, a lot. And you know about the Lord’s Table (1Co 10.16-22), right? Our worship means something to us too, doesn’t it?

All right, then. If your pagan friend is starting a new business, and wants good luck, and offers an idol sacrifice followed by a reception, you can’t go. Sure, the meat’s fine, but you can’t participate in false worship. Worship matters. A lot. That’s the “No.”

But the idol temple has opened up a little meat shop next door, where the priests sell off the extra meat. It’s good meat, at a good price. Feel free to buy it and eat it (1Co 10.25). That’s the “Yes.”

Now, suppose you have a neighbor invite you over for dinner. He serves steak. You don’t know where it came from, and, says Paul, you shouldn’t even care. Eat the meat (1Co 10.27).

Maybe.

Suppose there’s someone else invited to that dinner—another believer, in fact. He leans over to you, fear in his eyes, and says, “This meat has been offered to idols!”

What do you do then?

I’ll tell you what my instinct would be. I’d say, “Look, man, I understand your concerns. But this friend has invited us for dinner, and he’s lost, and I’ve been witnessing to him for years, and I’m not going to mess that up by making an issue out of something that shouldn’t even be an issue. I’ll talk to you about it later. But for now, trust me. It’s fine; eat the meat. Don’t be rude.”

And my instinct would be exactly wrong. 180 degrees wrong. Completely, backwards, wrong.

What does Paul say? Your brother’s spiritual health is infinitely important. Even though he’s mistaken, you look after him; you take care of him, even if that means being rude to your host (1Co 10.28-30)—and an unbelieving host, at that.

I don’t know of any culture where it isn’t rude to refuse an offered meal. You can try to lighten the offense, of course—“My friend, you have been so kind to us, and this meal looks delicious. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I’m not going to be able to eat this wonderful steak, because I’m a follower of Jesus.”

But it’s still going to be rude. Maybe he’ll ask why, and that may open up a door for the delightful grace of the gospel. But maybe he won’t; maybe he’ll just think you’re a jackass.

But here’s the thing. Your brother’s spiritual health is worth that risk. It is. Paul clearly says so.

So love your brother. Even if an unbeliever thinks you’re rude. Even if a fellow believer thinks you’re a legalist. Because your brother, the very image of God, is absolutely worth it.

There’s a lot more we could say about all this. I’d recommend a book if you’d like to study the concepts further. And yeah, the book just happens to be by a couple of friends of mine.

This will be my last blog post here for a while. I’m taking a break from blogging here so I can concentrate on blogging somewhere else. I’d love to have you follow that adventure if you find it interesting. If you don’t, that’s fine; I’ll see you back here, Lord willing, later.

Photo by niu niu on Unsplash

On Christian Convictions, Legalism, and the Fear of Man, Part 6

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

So we’ve established that taking care of one another is more important than exercising our liberties. I think we’re ready now to talk about the fear of man.

Fear of man is a powerful disincentive to doing the right thing. We know what we ought to do, but we’re afraid of what people will think.

  • Looks to me like the group is about to do something we shouldn’t. I should speak up. But I don’t want to be That Person. I’ll just go along.
  • What that guy said about his wife is just reprehensible. I ought to take him aside and talk to him about it. But then he might not like me anymore. Hmm. It’s not that big a deal. Probably what he said doesn’t mean anything at all. I’ll let it pass, just this once.
  • If I befriend that unpopular person …
  • If I criticize what that cool Christian is doing …

Fear of man. It’s a menace.

I suspect that fear of man is the biggest reason that most Christians—most Christians—ignore Christ’s last and most important command. “Go into all the world,” he said. “And take the gospel to every creature.”

But we don’t. Not to the ends of the earth, not to the next state, not to our neighbor, not to the waitress who came right up to our table and started talking to us.

Nobody.

Because we’re afraid. Of them. Even the friendly ones. And especially the ones we already know.

Fear of man. It’s a menace.

But I’ve seen the charge leveled at people who clearly don’t deserve it. Can you see how someone following the clear principles of our passage might be accused of cowardice?

I have a right to eat meat offered to idols. It’s meat. There’s nothing wrong with it. But there’s this guy in the church who doesn’t think I should. So I won’t.

“Fear of man!” they cry. “You’re free! Free in Jesus! Be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage! Do The Thing! Don’t let fear of what that benighted legalist might think stop you from enjoying—celebrating—all that you are and have in Christ!”

Fair enough. But according to our passage, when we say that, we’re not thinking accurately, or precisely enough.

If I refuse the meat because I’m afraid of what someone will think, that’s indeed fear of man, and I need to deal with my soul about that.

But if I’m restraining myself because I care about that brother’s spiritual health—if I don’t want to encourage him to do something he thinks is wrong—then that’s not fear of man. It’s love for my brother.

It’s what every believer ought to do.

So don’t slander that kind of thinking. Celebrate it. Imitate it. Live that way.

Remember what the critic said? “Be not entangled with the yoke of bondage.”

That’s a Bible verse. Galatians 5.1. And it’s true. We ought not to be entangled with the yoke of bondage.

But the Bible isn’t a collection of inspirational quotations to be pulled out and used as ammunition against fellow believers without any understanding of the context.

What’s the “yoke of bondage” we’re not supposed to re-entangle ourselves with? In context (the entire book of Galatians), it’s attempting to earn salvation by keeping the law. Don’t do that.

But you know what else the context says? This verse is at the beginning of a paragraph. If you’ll read through to the end of the paragraph, you’ll find that Paul says, “By love serve one another” (Gal 5.13). That word serve is the same Greek root as the word bondage in verse 1.

Guess what? We’re free from the law, but we’re not free from everything. We’re bondslaves of Jesus Christ (Gal 1.10) (and yes, that thought is balanced by Gal 4.7, but the principle remains).

And, it turns out, we’re bondslaves of one another too. We serve one another. We put our brothers’ and sisters’ needs ahead of our own. That’s what we’re called to do.

How often, when you’re deciding whether or not to do something that believers disagree about, do you stop and consider the effect of your action on the believers around you? How often do you decide to serve your fellow believer instead of your own desire for freedom? How often?

I’m not asking you to be in bondage to the fear of man. If you labor under that burden—and most of us do, at one time or another—then take that burden to the cross and leave it there.

But serve your brother. Love your brother. As Christ has loved you.

Part 7

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