New Testament

Why Creation Matters, Part 14: General Epistles

April 16, 2026 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The General Epistles encompass James through Jude; they’re called “general” epistles because they are not addressed to specific churches or individuals, as Paul’s epistles are. Two of these epistles are by Peter, and one of those contains the only substantial reference to Creation theology in this section of the Bible. That’s in 2 Peter 3.

Peter begins the chapter by reminding his readers to take heed of what earlier Scriptures have said is coming: “there shall come in the last days scoffers” (2P 3.3). And what are they scoffing? The idea that Jesus is coming back. They note that things are just proceeding, without supernatural manifestations, day after day, as they always have (2P 3.4).

There’s irony here, for Peter has them reference “creation,” meaning the beginning of history. Even today some who reject the biblical account of creation will use the term for the ancient past, even if they have in mind the “Big Bang” or the formation of our sun or our planet.

The irony, of course, is that there was a “creation,” and it was not the sudden, unexplained rapid expansion of a hypothetical singularity of all matter. It was not the unexplained accretion of rapidly expanding matter into a solar disk, or into a seething hot mass of molten material that eventually cooled into the third rock from the sun.

It was, as Peter notes (2P 3.5), a supernatural act by an all-powerful, all-knowing, perfectly aesthetic Being, who formed it all from nothing with merely a word—or a series of them.

Peter says that these scoffers are ignorant of all that (2P 3.5). But with a single word he crushes any possible self-defense from them. Their ignorance, he says, is willing.

Here he calls to our mind a passage in Paul that we’ve already noted: Romans 1.20. There Paul says that the truth is recognizable in the cosmos that we see all around us—but some suppress that obvious truth, they hold it down, because they simply do not want to acknowledge the obvious. In our day it seems that the primary external motive for doing this is peer pressure: the cost to a scientist’s professional standing for embracing creationism is significant. But as Paul goes on to tell us later in Romans, at root the motivation is not primarily external; it springs from each person’s heart:

There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God (Ro 3.11, alluding to Ps 14.2).

This is a point that Peter has already made in our passage (2P 3.3).

Having noted the irony in the scoffers’ reference to creation, Peter proceeds to cite another supernatural historical event: the Flood (2P 3.6). Since God has judged the entire planet once already, he can certainly do so again at the coming of Christ. Perhaps here (2P 3.7) Peter implies God’s promise never again to destroy the earth by a flood (Ge 8.21-22); he says “the heavens and the earth … are kept in store.” (In verse 22 he effectively anticipates the scoffers’ “evidence” in 2P 3.4.) But then he notes that the restriction on floods does leave at least one other option: fire.

Those who scoff at a return of Christ in fiery judgment (cf 2Th 1.6-10) are simply not paying attention to obvious evidences. Willfully.

And as to their allegation that much time has passed with no evidence of the supernatural (2P 3.4), Peter presents a basic fact about God that they are overlooking: the God who created time is not subject to it (2P 3.8). The passage of time means nothing concerning the validity of his words.

Some have interpreted this verse as a formula: 1000 years = 1 day. There’s a theory that as Creation took 6 days, with a 7^th day of rest, so the story of earth will last 6000 years, followed by a 1000-year “rest,” the Millennium. That’s interesting, but I think that’s all we can say about it. Peter’s contextual point here is not about chopping history up into thousand-year segments, but something much broader: God is not bound by time as we are. If he waits hundreds of thousands of years before Jesus returns, that is no matter. The promise will be fulfilled.

Thus we should not ignore, or even worse, scoff at the idea of a future judgment. It’s coming; we should believe. And prepare.

The God who created the cosmos is able to evaluate, judge, and destroy it.

Creation matters.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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On the Believer’s Dual Citizenship, Part 4: Longing for the Eternal City 2 

November 6, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Living for the Eternal King | Part 3: Longing for the Eternal City 1

At this point in Hebrews 11 the author pauses to summarize and, perhaps, to clarify what he has said so far. These 5 people—Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Sarah—have been chosen for the “Hall of Faith” for a single reason: they trusted God.

They demonstrated that trust, that faith, by believing that what God had promised he would do, and by embracing those promises (He 11.13). What did that look like? In Abel’s case, it meant simply offering a sacrifice to God from what God had given him, with an attitude that pleased him. The specifics of his attitude aren’t described, but it’s easy to imagine that it involved gratitude and willingness rather than stinginess. In the case of Enoch, the comment that he “walked with God” seems to indicate fellowship between friends. Noah and Abraham evidenced their trust in God by obeying a significantly difficult command. And Sarah perhaps appears here just because of the attitude of her heart as she anticipated a labor and delivery in old age.

In these different ways, these examples demonstrated that they looked forward to something beyond this life: that after they died, they would have a life that was worth sacrificing for here (He 11.14-16).

More examples follow: Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac (He 11.17-19); Isaac’s instruction of his sons (He 11.20); Jacob’s anticipating of the covenant blessings on his grandsons as well as his sons (He 11.21); Joseph’s expectation of the Exodus (He 11.22); Moses’ obedience to God in leading it (He 11.23-29); Joshua’s obedience at Jericho (He 11.30); and Rahab’s faith in the one true God (He 11.31).

And then comes a simple list of names, with no descriptions (He 11.32), and of others unnamed (He 11.33-38), all who valued the life to come more than this one, because they trusted God to keep his promises.

We’ve noted that the author of Hebrews clearly expects us to follow their example.

What would that look like in these “modern” days?

It would look like valuing the eternal over the things you can’t take with you. And that would mean that our values and aspirations would be pretty much the exact opposite of the prevailing values and aspirations of our culture. Wealth? Political power? Fame? Are you kidding me?

That completely changes how significantly this or that election, or this or that scandal, or this or that government policy, affects us.

It changes how much we value and therefore cling to our earthly possessions. Giving to those in need brings us much less hesitation. Augustine’s earthly city starts to seem relatively trivial.

It gives us a confident faith in the Great Certainties:

The greater value of the heavenly kingdom

God’s certain deliverance of us to that kingdom

The goodness of God’s plan for us here

Note that valuing eternity more than the temporal does not mean that we despise the temporal; God gives us good things, and it is appropriate to receive them with gratitude. I like my riding mower. I note that Abraham did indeed prefer Canaan to Ur, even though it wasn’t the heavenly city.

Eternal values, exercised wisely as we inhabit a temporal kingdom. Stewarding present responsibilities and opportunities even as we await eternal life in a very different place.

Grace, mercy, and peace.

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On the Believer’s Dual Citizenship, Part 3: Longing for the Eternal City 1

November 3, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Living for the Eternal King

As citizens of both an earthly nation and a heavenly home, believers think and live in ways that are markedly different from those with only an earthly citizenship. In the previous post we started that contrast by recalling our heavenly King’s Prime Directive, the “Great Commission” (Mt 28.19-20). Our life focus, our overriding mission, is to take the gospel to the ends of the earth. It’s been my pleasure to do that on several continents, but it’s worth noting that Jesus’ command was to start where we live (Ac 1.8).

As we do that, other distinctives reveal themselves. There are many examples in Scripture, in both Testaments, of people who carried God’s Word to their families and neighbors. The classic summary of these efforts appears in Hebrews 11, the so-called “Hall of Faith.” Here we meet several believers from the Old Testament—some of whom we’re surprised to find here—with a description of their attitudes. It’s worth looking through those descriptions for attitudes that we should adopt these centuries later.

The writer begins by talking about faith, the characteristic he’s going to choose as key for his list. In the larger context of Hebrews, he’s writing to what we might call New Testament Jewish believers, urging them not to return to Judaism. So it’s pretty clear that he intends this list of Old Testament examples to be examples for us, living as Christians in the New Testament economy. The writer confirms that in verse 4, when he says, “he being dead yet speaketh.” These long-dead saints are speaking to us.

What are they saying?

The first example is Abel, who “offered a more excellent sacrifice than Cain” (He 11.4). We’re not told why it was more excellent; I was taught as a youngster that Abel offered the blood sacrifice that God required. But there’s no indication in the Genesis account that God had given any instruction about blood sacrifice; some note that God made Adam and Eve “coats of skins” after their sin, and it’s reasonable to conclude that the animals who donated those skins died, but their death is not called a sacrifice, and in any case, God offered it rather than commanding Adam and Eve to offer it. We certainly can’t hold Abel—or Cain—to the Abrahamic or Mosaic requirements centuries before they were given. All we know is that Abel’s sacrificed pleased God, while Cain’s didn’t. Cain’s response—murderous rage and then arguing with God (Ge 4.5-15)—indicates that the difference between the two men was in their attitude toward God. Our Hebrews passage will develop more details about that.

The second example is Enoch, who is said simply to have “pleased God” (He 11.5); the OT account says that he “walked with God” (Ge 5.22).

What do Abel and Enoch have in common? Their focus was on what God wanted, not merely their own earthly concerns. They wanted to please God.

And our author next tells us that there’s only one way to please God, and that’s to trust him. In the original languages, “trust” and “faith” are the same word, both as nouns and as verbs. “To have faith” simply means to trust.

We find this principle repeated in the next examples. Noah trusted God that rain was coming, even though it had never rained before, and he proved his trust by spending a century building a really big boat. Abraham trusted God’s call and proved it by uprooting his sizable business and moving to a place he’d never been. Sarah had some doubts about the pregnancy, of course—she was 90 years old, and the whole concept made her laugh (Ge 18.10-12)—but once she was pregnant, she believed that God would give her strength to deliver, and Abraham named her son Isaac—“laughter”—in a delightful double entendre, a nod to Sarah’s faithlessness and God’s faithfulness.

There’s much more to consider in this passage. Next time.

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On the Believer’s Dual Citizenship, Part 1: Introduction

October 27, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Christians have always disagreed over their responsibilities to earthly governments. Jesus, of course, declared to Pilate that his kingdom “is not of this world” (Jn 18.36), leading some since to deny, or at least resist, all earthly kingdoms. Most Christians, though, have tried to follow Paul’s mandate that we should respect “the powers that be” (Ro 13.1), but they have disagreed significantly over what exactly that should look like.

Augustine laid the foundation for “two kingdoms” thinking in his classic work The City of God, in which he asserted that all humans are citizens of either the city of God, loving God, or the city of man (Babylon), loving self. In his view, Christians are also citizens of earthly kingdoms, though only temporarily, and should be good citizens, seeking to improve society while realizing that complete success is impossible.

The medieval Roman Catholic Church gave lip service to this idea—Augustine is, after all, one of the great Fathers of the Church—but various popes sought to exert authority over kings to an extent that rendered the latter essentially powerless. The most well-known example of this is when Pope Gregory VII refused to answer the door at the Canossa Castle in northern Italy, leaving Holy Roman Emperor Henry IV standing barefoot outside in the snow for three days (1077).

The Reformers, who for obvious reasons were not inclined to follow slavishly the Roman Catholic example, mostly returned to something close to Augustine‘s position. Calvin taught that Christians should respect and obey the government—not surprising, since for a time in Geneva he essentially was the government, even ordering capital punishment for heretics as he deemed it appropriate.

These days most evangelical Christians make much of the Romans 13 passage, reserving civil disobedience to matters where they view the government as impinging on matters of biblical command and thus personal conscience. They will disagree with one another on precisely when civil disobedience is necessary*, but they will generally agree on the abstract principle.

In some non-Christian minds this “dual citizenship” seems inappropriate. On November 10, 2004, speaking at the University of Chicago the day after that year’s presidential election, humorist Garrison Keillor said, “I’m trying to organize support for a constitutional amendment to deny voting rights to born-again Christians. I feel if your citizenship is in Heaven—like a born again Christian’s is—you should give up your [US] citizenship. Sorry, but this is my new cause. If born again Christians are allowed to vote in this country, then why not Canadians?”

Now, I’m pretty sure Keillor was joking—first, because that’s what he was getting paid to do, and second, because as far as I know he never acted on those words. But it’s easy to see how this doctrine might give pause to a non-Christian or two.

Well. Given that conservative evangelicals seem to have a robust theology of earthly citizenship based on Romans 13 and are (mostly) in agreement as to its broad application, I think it’s worth giving some attention to our other citizenship—what Augustine called “the city of God.”

How do we live for the eternal king?

And how do we demonstrate longing for the eternal city?

Next time.

* In a contemporary example, the US Supreme Court is deciding this year a Christian therapist’s objection to Colorado’s restrictions on “conversion therapy” for homosexual and/or transgender youth. Practicing evangelical licensed therapists in the state disagree over whether their colleagues can abide by the existing state law in good conscience and in obedience to Scripture. Some think the plaintiff’s objection is unnecessary by biblical standards.

Photo by Global Residence Index on Unsplash

How God Makes Well-Rounded Christians, Part 10: Closing Thoughts

September 25, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

So how does God make well-rounded Christians?

Well, like all maturation, it takes time. It involves growth in comprehension, beginning with knowledge that is supplemented by understanding that comes from the means of grace and from experience. It involves growing in one’s knowledge of God and the consequent maturation of a living, personal relationship with him. It involves experiencing hard things that develop endurance and, yet again, more understanding. It involves experiencing victories that teach methods for and confidence in future victories.

The primary element, I would assert, is that personal relationship, that love of God, that makes our confidence in his presence and trustworthiness almost second nature to us, beyond even the ways that we trust our closest human friends. With that relational foundation we walk with him throughout the day; we expect his direction and empowerment; we trust his will, in the light and in the darkness; and we see everything as from his hand, prompted by his wise love, something for which we should be profoundly grateful.

That’s what I want to be when I grow up.

Who is He on yonder tree
Dies in grief and agony?

Who is He who from the grave
Comes to succor, help, and save?

Who is He who from His throne
Rules through all the worlds alone?

’Tis the Lord! oh wondrous story!
’Tis the Lord! the King of glory!
At His feet we humbly fall;
  Crown Him! crown Him, Lord of all!

– Benjamin Russell Hanby

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash