New Testament – Page 10

Jesus Is Jehovah, Part 9: “Your Years Shall Not Fail”

September 6, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In the previous post we noted that Hebrews 1 begins the author’s task of demonstrating the superiority of Christ in all things by demonstrating his superiority to the angels. He does this by citing a series of quotations from the Hebrew Scripture, what we Christians call the Old Testament. We looked last time at a quotation from Deuteronomy in Hebrews 1.6.

Just a few verses further we find another Old Testament YHWH passage (Ps 102.25-27) cited and applied to the Son:

“In the beginning, Lord, you founded the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands; ¹¹they will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like clothing; ¹²like a cloak you will roll them up, and like clothing they will be changed. But you are the same, and your years will never end” (He 1.10-12).

The author of Hebrews, as is his custom, is quoting not the Hebrew Old Testament but its Greek translation, the Septuagint, which was in very common use in the first century. In verse 10 the Septuagint has the word “Lord” (Gk kurie), and consequently the Greek of the verse, and the English translations, have it as well. It’s proper to note that the word does not occur in the Hebrew text, having been added by the Septuagint translators. (I noted last time that the Septuagint is of uneven quality.)

So the word “Lord” (in Hebrew, either Adonai or YHWH) does not in fact occur in Psalm 102.25. But “YHWH” does occur earlier in the Psalm; in fact it occurs 8 times in 28 verses (Ps 102.1, 12, 15, 16, 18, 19, 21, and 22). As you might suspect from the frequency and extent of the appearances, the entire psalm is addressed to YHWH. And for good measure, the name “God” (Elohim) appears in verse 24.

Beyond the name statistics, however, the context—the entirety of Psalm 102—makes the impact of this application all the more impressive.

The psalm is addressed as a plea prayer, requesting deliverance (Ps 102.1-2)
- From extreme physical ailment (Ps 102.3-5);
- From psychological torment (Ps 102.6-7, 9, 11);
- From powerful enemies (Ps 102.8);
- From the wrath of the addressee, God (Ps 102.10).
The psalmist is confident that God can deliver him from such a complex, multifaceted problem because
- He is a mighty king (Ps 102.12a);
- He has an eternal reputation (Ps 102.12b);
- He is compassionate (Ps 102.13a, 14);
- He keeps his promises (Ps 102.13b);
- He does infinitely impressive works (Ps 102.15-16);
- He cares for the downtrodden (Ps 102.17-20); and
- He is the kind of person whom it is right and reasonable to worship (Ps 102.21-22).

The Psalmist climaxes his prayer by contrasting his temporality (“do not take me away at the midpoint of my life”) with God’s eternality (“you whose years endure throughout all generations”) (Ps 102.24)—and then comes the closing stanza, a hymn to the eternality and power of the Almighty and the security those who trust in him, most of which is the portion quoted in Hebrews:

²⁵Long ago you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. ²⁶They will perish, but you endure; they will all wear out like a garment. You change them like clothing, and they pass away; ²⁷but you are the same, and your years have no end. ²⁸The children of your servants shall live secure; their offspring shall be established in your presence.

Once in this Psalm the writer calls this person God, and 8 times he calls him YHWH.

The writer to the Hebrews calls him Jesus.

Part 10: Other Possibilities

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Jesus Is Jehovah, Part 8: “Let All the Angels of God Worship Him”

September 2, 2021 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Nobody knows who wrote Hebrews. Many potential authors have been suggested; my personal favorite suggestion is Apollos, “mighty in the Scriptures” (Ac 18.24), but nobody thought of him for centuries, a fact that doesn’t bring historical confidence. But whoever the author was, this epistle / sermon rings with divine authority and rhetorical beauty.

The author’s purpose is to demonstrate to Jewish believers, who were apparently wavering in their Christian faith and considering returning to traditional Judaism, that Jesus is far superior to anything in the old system. He’s superior to the angels (ch 1); to the Mosaic system (ch 3); to the Levitical priesthood (ch 5-7); and to the Old Covenant (8-10). He’s just better; there’s no reason to go back.

The author begins with a series of quotations from the OT to demonstrate that Jesus is superior to the angels (He 1.4), who in Jewish tradition were the ones who brought the Law from God to Israel (Ac 7.53).

“Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee” (He 1.5, quoting Ps 2.7).
“I will be to him a Father, and he shall be to me a Son” (He 1.5, quoting 2Sa 7.14, the Davidic Covenant).
“Who maketh his angels spirits, and his ministers a flame of fire” (He 1.7, quoting Ps 104.4).
“Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom. ⁹Thou hast loved righteousness, and hated iniquity; therefore God, even thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows (He 1.8-9, quoting Ps 45.6-7).
“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” (He 1.10-12, quoting Ps 102.25-27).
“Sit on my right hand, until I make thine enemies thy footstool” (He 1.13, quoting Ps 110.1).

“Mighty in the Scriptures,” indeed.

It’s noteworthy that this list includes the direct statement that the Father calls the Son “God” (He 1.8). This is a clear affirmation of the deity of Christ, though it’s not an example of calling the Son “YHWH.”

Speaking of which, where is that ascription in this list?

Well, if you were paying close attention, you might have noticed that I skipped a verse:

“Let all the angels of God worship him” (He 1.6).

I skipped it because for years it was a serious interpretational problem. For centuries we had no Hebrew manuscripts that contained that verse anywhere in the Old Testament. It was in the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the OT, in Deuteronomy 32.43, the ending of the song of Moses. But with absolutely zero Hebrew manuscripts containing it, and with the Septuagint’s reputation as of, well, uneven quality, textual scholars didn’t have the kind of evidence they like in order to view the passage as genuine.

Some suggested that it was a loose paraphrase of Psalm 97.7, but that was a stretch, for both textual and contextual reasons.

So. What to do?

And then, in 1947, a Palestinian shepherd boy was amusing himself by throwing rocks at the entrance to a cave some distance up the face of a cliff, and he was delighted when he hit his target. The rock entered the cave—and the boy heard something break.

Long story short, behold, the Dead Sea Scrolls. Which included multiple ancient copies of Deuteronomy, including several that contained the phrase at Dt 32.43—

Rejoice, O ye nations, with his people: let all the angels of God worship him; for he will avenge the blood of his servants …

Whaddaya know. It’s genuine.

And so, to our point. Who is the “him” that the angels of God are being ordered to worship? You need to go back through the context quite a ways to find the antecedent, but it’s right there in Dt 32.36:

For the LORD shall judge his people, and repent himself for his servants, when he seeth that their power is gone, and there is none shut up, or left.

Moses orders the angels to worship YHWH.

The author of Hebrews cites the order as the Father’s statement on the incarnation of the Son (He 1.6): “Let all the angels worship him!”

As, indeed, they did:

Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. … Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men! (Lk 2.11, 14).

Jesus is Jehovah.

By the way, I notice that this is my 400^th post on this blog. I can only hope that the writing has been anywhere near as profitable for you as it has been for me.

Part 9: “Your Years Shall Not Fail” | Part 10: Other Possibilities

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

On Muddling Through

August 2, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

⁸By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. ⁹By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. ¹⁰For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God (He 11).

I’ve heard a lot of people comment these days on the uncertainty of our lives. It seems unusual, they say, the degree to which things are in general upheaval. They tend to focus on Covid, of course, especially with the Delta variant and the looming return of restrictions of various kinds. But they note that there’s more to this feeling, especially in the significant societal and cultural changes that seem to be accelerating.

There’s a part of me that says there’s nothing new under the sun; I’ve always been skeptical of the constant claim that “young people these days have it harder than ever.” But it does seem that the pace of change is speeding up.

I know a lot of people who are pretty much in Full Bore Linear Panic over all this. At the risk of being accused of insufficient empathy, let me offer a few words of psychical stabilization. (And yes, I know that no one in the history of the world has ever been calmed down by being told to calm down.)

I’ve written before on the societal uncertainty that the pandemic has brought, but I’d like to share some further thoughts along that line.

There is a very real sense in the Scripture that we’re mostly blind and consequently just sort of muddling along through life. We’re constantly reminded that we’re not God—though by nature we’d very much like to be—and that our knowledge and wisdom are infinitesimal in comparison with his. Paul tells us that “we walk by faith, not by sight” (2Co 5.7), and the writer to the Hebrews develops that concept at considerable length in chapter 11, a portion of which appears above. Abraham, we’re told, went out, not knowing where he was going.

We all feel like that sometimes.

Maybe you know people who started life with a plan and executed it perfectly. My life, in contrast, began with making a plan and seeing it crash when I was 16, and then just sort of stumbling along as doors opened. At the time, it wouldn’t have impressed any career coaches. But in retrospect, it’s been a straight line and makes a lot of sense.

Life’s funny that way.

To one degree or another, we’re all Abraham. We come from somewhere else and are just resident aliens here, living in tents (most of us metaphorically).

Some immigrants cling tightly to their ethnic identity. When my people came over from the Rhine Valley in 1741, they settled in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, briefly but soon hiked down to a German colony in Newmarket, Virginia, where they helped start a Lutheran Church—that’s what Germans do, right?—and married other Germans. From my youth in Boston I recall fondly the Italian North End and Irish South Boston, and the clear cultural identity of those places.

But eventually, typically, immigrants blend in, intermarry, and assume the culture to which they’ve come. It happened to Judah in Babylon; it happened to the Olingers in America; and it happens pretty much everywhere.

In a spiritual sense, though, we don’t have that option.

We’re from someplace else, and we’ll always be from someplace else, and we can’t—mustn’t—make this place the determiner of our fortunes, our emotions, our spiritual health. The uncertainties that are part of living in a foreign place must not drive us to fear, because we have a Father who knows all and directs all, even though he often doesn’t clue us in to everything that’s going on. What looks like chaos to us looks like a beautiful fractal to him, and he’s doing something spectacular.

We don’t know what that something is, exactly, but we know whose work it is, and that fact gives us the ability to be calm in the midst of the storm, confident in the midst of uncertainty, joyous with anticipation in the midst of societal panic—not because we don’t care, or because we’re not empathetic, or because we’re just stupid, but because we know where it’s all heading.

In short, because we believe Dad—which, given his record, is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

Photo by Katie Moum on Unsplash

Christ Is Not His Name, Part 2: Responding to the Evidence

July 29, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Evidence for Messiahship

In the last post we noted the fact that Jesus is the Christ—the Messiah, the Anointed One—and that John’s Gospel narrates a series of miracles through which Jesus provides evidence of his Messiahship. I’d like to extend those thoughts in a couple of ways.

First, John’s use of the word signs for these miracles is precise. The Greeks had three words for miraculous events: “miracle” (or more literally “powerful thing”), which emphasized the power of the miracle worker; “wonder,” which emphasized the effect of the miracle on those who saw it; and “sign,” which emphasized the meaning or significance of the miraculous act. So the three synonyms addressed the three elements of the miraculous event: the one who did it, the act itself, and those who saw it happen.

John chooses to use the word that highlights what the miracles meant; as we noted last time, they demonstrate Jesus’ lordship over matter, time, space, physical and divine law, disease, and even death, and by implication, the evil forces. Anyone who directs the actions and effects of these things must be the recipient of an unprecedented anointing from God.

Second, John reinforces the meaning of these actions by including in the narrative account a record of Jesus’ teaching following the miracle.

After changing the water to wine, bringing life and joy by his creative authority, Jesus teaches about spiritual life and joy in his interaction with Nicodemus (“ye must be born again”) and with the Samaritan woman (“living water”).
After healing the nobleman’s son and the paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda, he proclaims that one day all will “honor the Son, even as they honor the Father” (Jn 5.23), and that the Son has “life in himself” (Jn 5.26).
After feeding the 5000 and walking on the water, Jesus presents himself as “the bread of life; he that cometh to me shall never hunger; and he that believeth on me shall never thirst” (Jn 6.35). Here he builds on the earlier teaching of being born unto undying life and drinking water that slakes thirst forever. Later he claims repeatedly that he is “not of this world,” climaxing a series of exchanges with the words, “Before Abraham was, I am” (Jn 8.58). This is someone for whom walking on water should not really be surprising.
While healing the man born blind, Jesus proclaims, “I am the light of the world” (Jn 9.5)—and later, “I am the door,” opening, in effect, the entrance to what the light reveals.
After Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, John recounts Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet, signifying that Jesus himself is the sacrifice that empowers all of his followers to overcome death through resurrection. Later Christ speaks of himself as a grain of wheat that brings life by being planted underground (Jn 12.24)—and then, “the way, the truth, and the life” (Jn 14.6) by whom his people will receive life eternal, and “the vine” (Jn 15.1), the source of ongoing life to all who trust in him.

So the meaning of the signs is amply reinforced. There’s no doubt about who this person is.

And yet, remarkably, he is opposed at every turn by people who really ought to know better.

After he heals the paralytic, “the Jews sought to kill Him” (Jn 5:18).
After the bread of life discourse, many disciples stopped following Him (Jn 6:66) and again “the Jews sought to kill Him” (Jn 7:1); he was accused of “having a demon” (Jn 7:20). The Pharisees accused Him of lying and having a demon (Jn 8:13, 48, 52); the religious leaders tried to arrest Him (Jn 7:30, 32, 44) and to stone Him (Jn 8:59).
After he healed the blind man, he was accused of having a demon (Jn 10:20), and they tried again to stone him (Jn 10.31) and to arrest him (Jn 10:39).
And after he raised Lazarus from the dead, they finally hatched the plan that led to His execution (Jn 11:48ff).

Will you believe, or not?

In the end, it’s really not about evidence, or the lack thereof.

It’s about whether or not you want to.

Artwork: The Resurrection of Lazarus by Giovanni di Paolo (1403-1482), from the Walters Art Museum

Christ Is Not His Name, Part 1: Evidence for Messiahship

July 26, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In the US people traditionally have 3 names: a “first name,” which is typically the one we go by; a “middle name,” which might be the one we go by if the first name might be confusing (e.g., for a “Junior”); and a “last name,” which is the family name. So to American Christians, “Lord Jesus Christ” looks like it fits the pattern—but it doesn’t. “Lord” is of course a title, not a name; “Jesus” (actually “Joshua”) is the personal name; and “Christ” is another title, from the Greek word for “Messiah,” or “Anointed One.”

These two titles were central doctrines in the early expansion of Christianity. “Jesus is Lord” was a core confession (Ro 10.9; Php 2.11), probably in contrast to the phrase central to emperor worship in the first-century Roman Empire (“Caesar is Lord!”). “Jesus is the Christ” was a central theme in the early apostolic preaching (Ac 2.36; 9.22; 17.3; 18.5, 28), which was probably based on Christ’s exposition of the Hebrew Scriptures to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24.27).

It’s no surprise, then, when John tells us that he writes his Gospel “that you [readers] might believe that Jesus is the Christ” (Jn 20.31). And how does he do that? He writes, “These are written that you might believe …” (Jn 20.31).

“These” what? We find the antecedent of the demonstrative pronoun these, as we might expect, in the previous verse: “Many other signs Jesus also performed in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book” (Jn 20.30)—“but these [signs] are written that you might believe.”

John tells us here at the end of his book that he has structured his Gospel around a series of signs that demonstrate that Jesus is Messiah.

What are the signs? Well, John makes it simple enough to find them; you just look through the Gospel for the Greek word translated “signs” (semeion) and see what John is referring to in each use.

Here they are—

Changing water to wine at the wedding in Cana (Jn 2.11). Some commentators note that John may not be saying that this was Jesus’ first miracle ever, but that this is John’s “roman numeral one,” the first sign he’s chosen to demonstrate Jesus’ Messiahship.
Healing the nobleman’s son (Jn 4.54)
Feeding the 5000 (Jn 6.14)
Healing the man born blind (Jn 9.16)
Raising Lazarus (Jn 12.18)
When the Jews ask him for a “sign,” Jesus points obliquely to his own resurrection (Jn 2.18-19).

That’s six miracles that John specifically identifies as “signs.” It’s been common among interpreters to include one more, to make the number seven. Some include the healing of the paralytic at the Pool of Bethesda (Jn 5.9), while others include the walking on the water (Jn 6.19). Yet others include both and pass over Jesus’ own resurrection, which, as I’ve noted above, is listed only obliquely.

Think about the significance of these specific miracles. In changing water to wine, Jesus demonstrates lordship over the quality of matter; in feeding the 5000, he demonstrates lordship over its quantity. If he made fermented wine—and I’m inclined to think that he did—he demonstrates lordship over time; in healing the nobleman’s son, he demonstrates lordship over space. (In the first two miracles, then, he’s Lord of time, space, and matter—the entire cosmos.) In healing the paralytic on the Sabbath, and the man born blind on another Sabbath, he demonstrates lordship over divine law; in walking on the water, he demonstrates lordship over physical law. In healing congenital blindness, he acts essentially as Creator, providing functioning eyes where there never had been any. In raising Lazarus from the dead—four days after he died—he demonstrates lordship over our greatest enemy, death. And he exponentiates that in his final sign; it’s quite an accomplishment to raise somebody else from the dead, but raising yourself from the dead (Jn 10.18) is on a different level entirely.

More than once John notes the effect that these signs had on those who saw them. Early on, people believed in him on account of the signs (Jn 2.23; 7.31; 9.16); and even Nicodemus, a member of the Sanhedrin, found them compelling (Jn 3.2), as did others on the Sanhedrin as well (Jn 11.47).

What’s the only reasonable conclusion from these well-attested signs?

Jesus is the Christ, anointed by God as prophet, priest, and king—authorized to speak to us for God, to speak to God for us, and to rule forever on the throne of his father David (2S 7.12-14).

This is the one at whose name every knee shall bow (Php 2.10). I am happily compelled to begin now.

Part 2: Responding to the Evidence

Artwork: The Resurrection of Lazarus by Giovanni di Paolo (1403-1482), from the Walters Art Museum

It’s Not Martyrdom If You’re Being Obnoxious

July 15, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

There’s a lot of talk about Christians being persecuted these days.

I’d suggest a couple of moderating thoughts.

First, if you’re talking about in the US, then, no, they’re not being persecuted, relatively speaking. There are some instances of their being harassed, and that’s wrong. I think the well-known case of the Colorado baker is a pretty clear instance of that. But harassment, while condemnable on both ethical and legal grounds, is nothing like the persecution faced by the early church, or by the modern church in many places of the world. I’ve been in some of those places, and when American Christians cry “persecution,” it strikes me as just as inappropriate as calling an ID requirement for voting “voter suppression.”

Second, there’s some biblical wisdom that we can apply profitably to the matter of either harassment or persecution. To begin with the really big picture, God has designed the universe so that in general it rewards wise behavior and punishes foolishness. If you respect physical laws by not putting your hand into a flame or stepping in front of a city bus, you’ll live more comfortably—and probably longer. If you acknowledge the fact that your fellow humans are created in the image of God and therefore worthy of respect, courtesy, and care, you’ll have fewer interpersonal problems. Even in its pre-fallen state, the world may well have carried the potential of causing you pain if you didn’t pay attention. I suspect that if pre-fallen Adam had beat his head against an Edenic tree trunk for a while, he’d have decided not to do that anymore.

And in its post-fallen state, the potential rises exponentially. Now the world is broken. Creation groans (Ro 8.22), giving us earthquakes and tornados and tsunamis and pandemics. And we, as part of the broken world, engage in thinking and behavior that rejects the good God and denies his image in those around us. That kind of mistreatment and perversion of the designed order causes unfathomable pain. As Jesus’ half-brother James noted, “What is the source of quarrels and conflicts among you? Is not the source your pleasures that wage war in your members? ²You lust and do not have; so you commit murder. You are envious and cannot obtain; so you fight and quarrel” (Jam 4.1-2a).

All of this means that when Christians suffer, there are more possible reasons than just “suffering for Jesus.” Christians, individually or corporately, might be suffering because they’ve said or done stupid things, placing themselves under the divinely designed cosmic order, whereby life is tougher if you’re stupid (as John Wayne allegedly said). Or they might be suffering because they’ve engaged in sinful thinking or practices that have social or legal consequences.

I’m not making this up; the Bible actually warns God’s people against this very thing. Perhaps the most concentrated biblical teaching on Christian suffering is 1 Peter, which lays out the fact and causes of suffering and then applies it in the three major institutions of life: the home (1P 3.1-12), the state (1P 2.13-20), and the church (1P 4.7-5.11). As part of that instruction, Peter says,

¹⁴If you are reviled for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you. ¹⁵Make sure that none of you suffers as a murderer, or thief, or evildoer, or a troublesome meddler; ¹⁶but if anyone suffers as a Christian, he is not to be ashamed, but is to glorify God in this name (1P 4.14-16).

If you’re going to suffer—which is likely, he says—then suffer for a good reason. There’s no spiritual profit in suffering in itself—everybody suffers for one reason or another. So don’t suffer for stupid reasons.

Peter lists four behaviors here. Two of them are the specific sins—crimes, in fact—of murder and theft. The third item is a general term for evildoing. The fourth is a bit of a puzzle, what New Testament scholar Thomas Schreiner calls “one of the most difficult interpretive problems in the New Testament.” Because it’s a rare word, we don’t have much basis from usage for assigning it a meaning. Etymologically it’s “overseeing the affairs of others,” but what that means in a negative context isn’t clear. I’m inclined to read it as “being meddlesome,” “sticking your nose into other people’s business.”

Big sins will bring you trouble. So will little ones. I’d suggest that commenting on every passing social media post, whether or not you have any idea what you’re talking about, will bring you trouble. I’d also suggest that approaching people with a hostile attitude and confrontational speech will bring you trouble. And I’d suggest, finally, that blaming Jesus for your trouble in those cases is just wrong.

Photo by engin akyurt on Unsplash

On Divine Down Payment

June 3, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

There’s a Christian song that begins with the following lines—

“What gift of grace is Jesus my redeemer;
There is no more for heaven now to give.”

I appreciate the sentiment expressed here. The Bible reminds us that Christ is indeed all (Col 3.11) and that his sacrifice and grace are infinite. This is the theme of entire books of the Bible—Colossians, Ephesians, and Hebrews come immediately to mind, but others could be named as well—and multiple songs of multiple styles have been written on the theme.

But for some time I’ve been impressed with a surprising statement in the classic list of the elements of salvation in Ephesians 1. The passage lays out a partial list of what God has done for us—from what Paul calls “all spiritual blessings” (Ep 1.3)—and organizes those elements under the rubric of the Trinity. He begins with the work of the Father (Ep 1.4-6) in choosing and predestinating us to adoption; he then moves to the Son’s work (Ep 1.7-13a) in redeeming us, earning our forgiveness and accomplishing our unification in him. But in this latter section he also speaks of more to come—an “inheritance” (Ep 1.11).

And here is where he says something I find surprising, perhaps even shocking. Moving to the role of the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity, who “seals” us (Ep 1.13), confirming our genuineness and accomplishing our security, Paul describes the Spirit as “the earnest of our inheritance until the redemption of the purchased possession” (Ep 1.14).

The KJV, which I’ve quoted here, has the word “earnest,” which we don’t use much in this sense these days except in real estate transactions, when we speak of “earnest money” paid by a buyer as a demonstration that he’s serious about buying and will show up for the closing. Other English versions use a variety of terms here—“guarantee” (NKJV ESV), “pledge” (NASB), “down payment” (CSB), “deposit” (NIV). You get the idea.

I’ve heard lots of teaching on this concept, but one day, well into adulthood, it struck me what a surprising metaphor this is. If I were evaluating a student’s sermon, and he used this metaphor, and it weren’t in the Bible, I’d take him aside afterwards and say to him, very paternally and condescendingly, “Now, young man, the Holy Spirit is a personal member of the Godhead, equal in every way to the Father and the Son, and it’s really not appropriate to speak of him as a ‘partial’ payment for anything. That’s irreverent.”

And I would be wrong, because the Bible does indeed use this metaphor, demonstrating that it is appropriate. And further, the person of the Godhead who uses this metaphor is the Spirit himself, who inspired Paul to write it (2P 1.20-21).

The Trinity, the Godhead, gives us the Spirit himself, who indwells us, teaching and convicting and directing us through this life, and he himself says that he’s just a portion of what God has in store for us—there’s more to come.

This is astonishing.

There is, indeed, more for heaven to give.

Now, I’m not criticizing the song. The lyricists, Australian Anglicans Richard Thompson and Jonny Robinson, have very precisely, and I think correctly, written, “There is no more for heaven now to give.” Good for them.

But it does us good to remind ourselves of the limitation of that key word now. There is, indeed, more—much more, infinitely more, in store for God’s people from the abundant storehouses of heaven.

Though we have eternal and abundant life now (Jn 10.10; 1J 5.13), there is a level of life awaiting us that we cannot imagine (2Co 12.4).
Though we know Christ now, we shall see and know him in unprecedented ways then (Mt 25.34; Rv 22.17).
Though we fellowship with the indwelling Spirit now, we shall know him much more intimately then (Re 22.17).

God has given us a down payment of his very person in the Holy Spirit. He’s really serious about his relationship with us. Let us embrace him and anticipate all that is to come.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

On the Fruit of the Spirit, Part 10: Self-Control

May 27, 2021 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

The last fruit on the tree of Spirit-empowered Christian character is self-control. Besides its appearance in this verse, it appears in only two other verses in the New Testament, and they don’t help us much with the meaning in context:

“And as [Paul] reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come, Felix trembled, and answered, Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee” (Ac 24.25).

“And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; ⁶And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness” (2P 1.5-6).

All of these occurrences are in lists, which are notoriously unhelpful in providing the kind of context that’s useful for drawing out the meaning of the word.

The adjectival form appears one time, in Titus 1.8, but that’s a list too:

“For a bishop must be blameless, as the steward of God; not selfwilled, not soon angry, not given to wine, no striker, not given to filthy lucre; ⁸But a lover of hospitality, a lover of good men, sober, just, holy, temperate” (Ti 1.8).

But fortunately for us, the verb form appears in two verses in 1 Corinthians, both of which give us some helpful context:

“But if they cannot contain, let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn” (1Co 7.9).

“And every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a corruptible crown; but we an incorruptible” (1Co 9.25).

The first is in a context of marriage, specifically as a sexual outlet. Paul says that if a young couple is unable to control themselves with regard to their sexual impulses, then they should get married.

The second is in an athletic context, specifically running a race (1Co 9.24). When an athlete is in training, he needs to exercise self-control over every area of his physical and mental life: he works out even when he doesn’t feel like it, he carefully controls his diet, he visualizes what he’ll need to do to be a winner.

In the Greek Old Testament (the Septuagint), the verb form appears once, when Moses tells Pharaoh,

“For if thou refuse to let them go, and wilt hold them still, ³Behold, the hand of the LORD is upon thy cattle which is in the field, upon the horses, upon the asses, upon the camels, upon the oxen, and upon the sheep: there shall be a very grievous murrain” (Ex 9.2).

Here it speaks of an external restraint—Pharaoh not “letting my people go.” Similarly Herodotus writes of the Greek generals having an area “under their control” (Histories, 8.49). In a more spiritual sense, an OT apocryphal book speaks of someone who “takes hold of” the Law (Sir 15.1) and of one who “restrains himself” from lust (Sir 18.30)—which reinforces the use in 1Co 7.9 above.

Also in the Septuagint the verb form is used of Joseph “composing himself” before going before his brothers (Ge 43.31).

So “self-control” can include the sexual sense, but it’s broader than that; it speaks of personal discipline in general. So it includes our thoughts and plans, our goals, our words, our actions. It includes our responses to people we don’t like. It includes the way we drive.

In one of many ironies in the Christian life (dying is living, the servant is master, the first are last), our “self-control” emerges not from ourselves, but from the Spirit who empowers us.

Jesus said that we’ll be known by our fruits.

Who are you?

Photo by Gabriele Lässer on Unsplash

On the Fruit of the Spirit, Part 9: Gentleness

May 24, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The eighth of the nine fruits of the Spirit is gentleness. The KJV uses the term “meekness..” The Greek lexicons include ideas such as meekness, mildness, even-temperedness, even friendliness and humility.

The Greek word is relatively rare in the New Testament—it appears just 11 times—but those few uses give us a fairly robust picture of it by their context—

It’s used in parallel with compassion (Co 3.12), humility (Ep 4.2; Co 3.12), kindness (Co 3.12), patience (Ep 4.2; Co 3.12), peaceableness (Titus 3.2), reverence (1P 3.16), tolerance (Ep 4.2), and love (1Co 4.21; Ep 4.2).
It’s used to describe the attitude of a believer who is
- correcting those who have fallen into error, in hopes that they may be restored (2Ti 2.25);
- restoring a fellow believer who has fallen into sin (Ga 6.1)—and that word “restoring” is used in secular Greek literature of a doctor setting a broken bone;
- “receiving” the Scripture (Jam 1.21);
- doing good deeds (Jam 3.13).
It’s contrasted with “boldness” (2Co 10.1) and with the attitude of a person intent on maligning someone (Titus 3.2) or disciplining someone for bad behavior (1Co 4.21).
It’s said to be a characteristic of Christ (2Co 10.1).

I’ve been going to dentists since I was a boy. My first dentist practiced in an age when the profession didn’t give a lot of thought to the pain involved; pain was just kind of understood to be a part of the experience. He didn’t use a topical anesthetic before he came at me with that 9-foot-long needle that had the real stuff in it. It never occurred to him during a filling that the patient might like a little break 20 minutes in. I learned to just tough it out or focus my thoughts on my happy place (which was most certainly not the dentist’s chair).

As an adult, in another part of the country, I had to establish a relationship with a new dentist. The one I ended up with was, shall we say, enlightened. His training had included some simple techniques that would significantly lower the pain inflicted. A decade or two later, when he retired and sold his practice to a young guy right out of dental school, I realized that by then the training was focusing even more on techniques to lower or even eliminate the pain.

Just had a crown done last week. Piece of cake.

Good for dentistry.

Now.

Dentists are dealing with tiny fragments of bone in our heads, and their motivation derives from the simple desire to have their patients come back, so the practice can be profitable and therefore stable. (And yes, I’m sure that many dentists, and others in health care, have an altruistic motive as well.)

Most of us, though, are not dealing with tiny bone fragments. We’re dealing with the souls of men and women in the image of God, who are going to live somewhere forever, and in the case of fellow members of the body of Christ, are going to live with us forever—and who, as members of Christ, are deeply treasured by him.

We ought to think seriously, then, about the pain we inflict. Some pain is necessary, no doubt; but much of the pain we inflict with our words and actions, even when confrontation is called for, is unnecessary. Some of the pain we inflict comes from our own impatience, or frustration, or self-focus. I’ve done that, many more times than I’d like to admit. And recently.

That’s not a result of the Spirit’s work in us.

We all—all who follow Christ—have within us an omnipotent person who is influencing us to be gentle. We can do this.

And we ought to.

Part 10: Self-Control

Photo by Gabriele Lässer on Unsplash

On the Fruit of the Spirit, Part 8: Faithfulness

May 20, 2021 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The seventh fruit is the Greek word for “faith.” This is a common word, with two distinct meanings. The more common, as you might expect, is “faith”—which is simply trust, believing someone or something. The other is “faithfulness,” or trustworthiness, or reliability—someone who can be believed.

In this passage, the KJV has “faith,” while all the modern versions except the HCSB have “faithfulness.”

Why are they so confident? I suspect because it seems odd to say that “faith” is a product of sanctification after you’re saved, if “faith” is the key to how you got saved in the first place. But faithfulness, trustworthiness, as a result of sanctification makes perfect sense; in Ephesians Paul makes it a specific example of how Christ’s followers differ from the kind of people they were before:

Therefore, having put away falsehood, let each one of you speak the truth with his neighbor, for we are members one of another (Ep 4.25).

So something the Spirit of God works in us is faithfulness:

We tell the truth.
We keep our promises.
Our word is our bond.
We show up when we said we would.

Why is that important? Paul gives us one reason in the Ephesians passage: “for we are members one of another.” It wouldn’t make any sense for the hand to lie to the eye, or to ignore its responsibilities to the eye, because they’re parts of the same body, and all the parts want the whole body to prosper. Have you ever noticed that when you get something in your eye, your finger doesn’t hurt? But it knows that because it’s articulated, and pointy, and reinforced at the tip with the backing of a fingernail, it can help your eye out with things that the eye can’t do for itself. I’ve noticed that my mouth, even though there’s nothing it can do, still wants to help—try getting something out of your eye with your mouth closed. :-)

So how moronic is it to lie to another member of the body of Christ? or to make a promise you don’t intend to keep?

When my older daughter was about 10, I had the opportunity to take her on a two-week fossil-digging trip out West with a friend. At the time, my younger daughter was too young to come along, but since it appeared that such trips would be likely in the future, I told her that when she was 10, I’d take her on a trip too.

You know how it goes. Complications came along, and 4 years later the trip just wasn’t possible. I had to tell my little girl that I had made her a promise I couldn’t keep. I have never felt lower than in that moment. (Fortunately, she seems to have handled it well, avoiding prison time and other evidences of sociopathy.)

Do you recall the biblical story of Joshua and the Gibeonites? The Lord had commanded Israel to exterminate the Canaanite tribes. The Gibeonites tricked Joshua into believing that they were from far away and therefore not included in the decree, and Joshua promised—with an oath on the name of YHWH (Jos 9.18)—that he would not harm them.

Shortly later, of course, he found out that they had lied.

And he still kept his promise (Jos 9.1-27).

In our day, any such fraudulent contract would be legally void. But Joshua didn’t see it that way.

And centuries later, when King Saul went after the Gibeonites, in violation of Joshua’s oath, apparently God didn’t see it that way either (2S 21.1-9).

I don’t know about you, but I notice when people don’t keep their word, and if it happens repeatedly, I remember. And then I don’t count on them. And sometimes that has consequences for them—they don’t get a position of responsibility that they might otherwise have gotten.

Keeping your word matters.

Jesus said that people will know us by our fruit.

Who are you?

Part 9: Gentleness | Part 10: Self-Control

Photo by Gabriele Lässer on Unsplash

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