New Testament – Page 16

On Being Like Jesus, Part 3: Aligning Your Values

June 29, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Why It’s Important | Part 2: Why It’s OK to Moralize, This Time

In beginning this series I said that we should pattern ourselves after Christ, because it is into his image that the Father is transforming us during the lifelong process of sanctification (2Co 3.18). Of many biblical passages in which we can find information about Christ’s character and attributes, I’ve chosen to look at just one, the well-known, lyrical description in Philippians 2:

³Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; ⁴do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. ⁵Have this attitude in yourselves which was also in Christ Jesus, ⁶who, although He existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped, ⁷but emptied Himself, taking the form of a bond-servant, and being made in the likeness of men. ⁸Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

Before this passage gets to a description of Christ’s thinking and consequent actions, it begins with a couple of direct imperatives for Paul’s readers. Verse 3 addresses the mindset that should underlie our decisions, while verse 4 speaks of where our thinking should be focused. I’d like to take a post to deal with each of these imperatives. I’d suggest that verses 5 to 8, the description of Christ’s thinking and action, serve simply as an example of these two imperatives in practice—and so the imperatives are the underlying principles that more or less define Christ-likeness.

The first underlying principle—the first characteristic of Christ’s thinking and decision-making—is to “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves.”

The principle is straightforward and uncomplicated: we’re to consider others as more important than ourselves.

Are they? Actually, the passage doesn’t say that. The Scripture is clear that we’re all—equally—in the image of God (Gen 1.26-27). the Creator has made each of us to be remarkable examples of living design, and we all have a place in his plan. You really are special—that statement isn’t just pandering psychobabble—and you know what? I’m just as special as you are.

But no human being has enough mass to be the center of the universe. God is the Center, and we as his creatures are designed to fulfill his purposes for this life and the life to come. Life goes badly when we consider ourselves the center of it. We are designed—and, here, instructed—to consider others as more valuable than ourselves.

In fact, Paul goes so far as to say that self-centeredness—the Greek word rendered “conceit” here means “glory”—is “empty”; there’s just nothing to it, like a cheese curl, or a soap bubble floating in a light summer breeze. All of our effort to bring glory to ourselves will simply come to nothing; in fact, it will likely encourage people to admire us less rather than more.

So instead of puffing ourselves up, ordering our affairs around our own advantage and interests, what does Paul call us to do?

Choose humility.

We’re funny about this; we admire humility in everyone except ourselves. We genuinely admire people who are genuinely humble, but we seem to think that those we admire will admire us more if we call attention to ourselves, grab the spotlight, make a big impression.

Nope.

I’ve taken several teams of students to Africa, involving all different kinds of kids. I’ve found things to admire about all of them.

But you know who made the biggest impression on me?

It was the one on the trip to Tanzania where we were out of running water for 5 weeks, and we had to cart 5-gallon buckets of water to two different houses for cooking and bathing. And whenever there was a moment, I’d see Jack (not his real name), without being told, carting 2 5-gallon buckets at a time over to the girls’ house to refill their water supply. Jack was a lot bigger and younger and stronger than I was, and he was using his gift to make a difference.

Be like Jack.

 Part 4: Aligning Your Focus | Part 5: Letting Go | Part 6: Getting Low | Part 7: Sacrificing Yourself | Part 8: Closing Thoughts

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On Being Like Jesus, Part 2: Why It’s OK to Moralize, This Time

June 25, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Why It’s Important

Like many of my colleagues and fellow travelers, I’m leery of moralizing on deep theological passages. Gideon’s story is not about being watchful when you drink from a river, and the death of Goliath is not about “only a boy named David” and those “five little stones he took.”

Those passages are about the might of Israel’s God, and his faithful, loving covenant loyalty (hesed). In the main, the Scripture is about God, not us, and we do a disservice to its Author when we turn it into a self-help book.

I had an experience years ago that drove this idea home to me.

One Christmas my family was visiting my sisters in New England. Not far from one sister’s house was a colonial-era church, which is well known for its architecture. Built in 1719, it has the box pews and the pulpit sounding board that were common design features in those days. As it happens, a painting of the building was included in one of the BJU Press textbooks back in my days with the Press, and when I left the Press to join the BJU faculty, my boss, who knew how much I loved that illustration, gave me the original artwork (by John Roberts—no, not the Chief Justice), and it hangs in our dining room today.

I really wanted to visit that church.

We showed up for the Sunday morning service just before Christmas. The minister presented a homily on Mary’s Magnificat (Lk 1.39-56).

Now, I knew this church was theologically liberal, and I later learned that it had embraced liberal theology not long after it was founded; it was liberal before liberal was cool. But even knowing that, I was floored by the homily.

As students of the Scripture know, the Magnificat presents some really remarkable features—

To begin with, it exhibits extensive parallels with Hannah’s prayer of thanks after the birth of Samuel (1Sam 2.1ff), and it is delivered extemporaneously—which indicates that Mary was thoroughly familiar with Hannah’s song, having probably studied and memorized and meditated over it, in a day when most girls were never taught to read. As a literary work alone, it’s worthy of extensive study.
Further, it develops significant theological themes involving multiple divine attributes and works, demonstrating both his greatness and his goodness. Again, this is surprising in an age when women were generally not educated or included in theological discussions—all the more so if, as we suspect, Mary was a teenager at the time.

If it’s Christmas-time, and you’re preaching on the Magnificat, there’s no lack of substantive material to present. The hard part is deciding what to include in just one sermon.

So what was the homily about on this Christmas Sunday morning?

Mary said these things after her cousin Elisabeth had greeted her with uplifting words (Lk 1.42-45). So we should say uplifting words to one another, thereby encouraging one another to produce wonderful creative things.*

My friends, I’m all for encouraging people—even poets!—but that is not what the Magnificat is about. When we deal with biblical theology, we need to make it about what it’s about, not our own good feelings about ourselves.

So here in Philippians 2 we have a significant Christological passage, the classic biblical passage on Christ’s humiliation and exaltation. The deity and humanity of Christ are in here, and the divine plan involving the cross, and eventual obeisance of all life—human, both regenerate and unregenerate, and nonhuman as well—and the absolute and eternal lordship of Jesus Christ.

It’s not about us.

But—it is about us. The very reason Paul has (apparently) pulled this ancient hymn into this particular epistle to a particular church in Macedonia is that he wants to moralize on the theology it contains. He wants us to do what Jesus did—to humble ourselves, to serve others. He wants us to break the passage down and live it out—not just by worshiping the Great Lord Jesus, but by imitating him. We are to “let this mind be in [us]” (Php 2.5).

We’ll take a few posts to explore what that means.

* For some reason, I can remember the liberal sermons I’ve heard better than the conservative ones. I guess the horror makes the experience more memorable over the long term.

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On Being Like Jesus, Part 1: Why It’s Important

June 22, 2020 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We don’t know her name, because she was only 15 at the time, and the police won’t tell us. She was a student at Richmond High School just north of San Francisco. It was a Saturday in October, the night of the homecoming dance.

About 9:30 that night, just after the dance ended, a group of students gathered in the darkness of a courtyard on the school property. Several of the boys turned on the girl, who was drunk, and began to beat her, throw her around, and rape her. There were at least 7 attackers, and the attack went on for more than 2 hours.

They weren’t alone in the courtyard. They were surrounded by other students, at least two dozen, and someone as old as in his 40s.

No one called the police.

Several of them allegedly recorded the attack on their cell phones. Eventually a young woman nearby heard what was going on and called 911. Police rescued the girl, and she was rushed to the hospital in critical condition.

What would you have done?

Would you have called the police? Would you have stepped in and tried to help? Would you have risked your own safety to defend a helpless victim?

Would you have thought of her, or of yourself?

What would you have done?

How do you know?

You can’t know what you’ll do in a crisis. What you’ll do is react—you’ll go with your most primal instincts. You’ll act out what you are deep inside, in your core.

And what is that? Your core is the sum of a thousand decisions you make every day, in the course of ordinary life. Today—and every other day—you’re turning into who you are.

So. You and I ought to spend our days, and our decisions, becoming what matters—the most important things.

And what are they?

The Bible answers that question for us:

God is taking the entire span of our lives to turn us into imitators of Christ:
- But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit (2Cor 3.18).
When Christ was asked what really matters, He said it very simply: love God, and love your neighbor (Mk 12.29-31).

So my decisions today, and your decisions, should be about placing more value on others than on ourselves. We need to decide every moment, in important decisions and in little tiny ones, to think as though it’s not about us.

This—thinking “otherly” in the tiny decisions—is the only way to be reasonably sure that when the really big decisions come, when there’s no time to evaluate or to do anything other than just react, we’ll do the right thing.

Why do I say that? Because doing the right thing—especially when it’s costly—is unnatural for us. We need a lot of practice, a lot of repetition, a lot of imprinting.

What does thinking “otherly” look like? If God’s lifelong work in us is conforming us to the likeness of Christ, then of course Jesus himself is our example.

There are many places in Scripture where we can get information on how Jesus thought and acted. Of course we could start with the Gospels, which we could call primary sources in the historical sense. And then there are numerous Christological passages in the epistles that would be informative—Romans, Ephesians, and Colossians come immediately to mind.

But I’d like to spend a few posts delving into Philippians 2, where Paul lays out a classic passage on Christ’s humiliation and exaltation—a passage some scholars think was an early hymn of the church. (It does appear to have the structure and lyricism one would expect in a hymn.)

Now that we have a text to study, I’ll spend a post justifying using a text that’s talking about Jesus to direct our own personal decisions—and then we’ll get to the text itself.

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Living in the Brightest Light, Part 4: Occupy Till He Comes

August 15, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Thus far in our brief look into 2 Thessalonians, we’ve noted that when Christ returns, God’s going to right all the wrongs, and that he’s going to bring history to an end in his own good time, according to his plan and timetable.

So what to we do in the meantime? In the last post we saw a very brief statement of that, in 2Thess 2.15—we need to continue holding on to what we’ve been taught.

But there’s more to it than that—and Paul has more to say in the next (and final) chapter. He speaks of a couple of general activities first—

We need to have a prayer life. We need to pray specifically for one another. Paul asks for prayer for himself (2Th 3.1-2), and he confidently (2Th3.3-4) prays for them (2Th 3.5).
We need to have a consistent pattern of following Christ. That’s what he prays for them (2Th 3.5), and that’s what he’s so confident about (2Th 3.4).

Those two general activities can keep us plenty busy until he comes. But he gets more specific in the next paragraph.

We all know that Paul’s epistles are “occasional”—that is, they’re written to address specific situations or occasions. In this case, Paul has learned that there are people in the church who aren’t working to support their families. Some interpreters speculate that they’ve quit working because they think Jesus is coming back very soon and they want to be ready—but the passage doesn’t actually say that.

At any rate, they’re sponging off the church’s kindness. And these days we have a term for what the kind church is doing. We call it “enabling.” Sometimes love has to be tough; you can’t smooth the path for someone headed in the wrong direction.

And that’s what Paul calls for here. We’ve told you, he says, that if someone is unwilling to work, he shouldn’t eat (2Th 3.10).

Obviously Paul’s isn’t calling for hard-hearted starvation of the elderly and enfeebled. These were people who could work but were refusing to. And here Paul calls for tough love. He even notes that he had set an example of that when he was with them (2Th 3.7-9).

How should the church deal with the situation?

Don’t give the lazy guy food (2Th 3.10).
Don’t let him wear you down. Don’t cave. You’re doing a good thing (2Th 3.13).
Don’t associate with him (2Th 3.14). Let him feel the sting of social penalty for unacceptable behavior.
But don’t cast him aside (2Th 3.15). He’s your brother. Guide him toward the joy of repentance. That’s the whole point.
Don’t lose your peace (2Th 3.16).

Wise words for all of us these centuries later, in a virtually identical culture. We’re living in the brightest light, the light of Christ’s return. Anticipating that, we get impatient with the brokenness all around us—and within us—and we’re tempted to just find a quiet corner and hunker down waiting for the cavalry.

But God hasn’t called us to do that. He’s called us to live in a broken world, to deal with its brokenness every day, sometimes by doing hard things, things we’d rather not do. He’s called us to persist in those difficult things, and even more, to do them with grace, continuing to spread The Story even as we feel the frustration that long waiting brings.

People who live through that kind of frustration, and who do so with peace, are testimonies to the truth of what they’re persistently believing. Only God could bring peace to a person in that situation. Something supernatural going on here.

And maybe people will want to look into that.

Live on, my friend.

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Living in the Brightest Light, Part 3: In God’s Good Time

August 12, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1 Part 2

As we’ve noted, when Christ returns, God’s going to right all the wrongs, correct all the injustices. That takes care of a lot of anger and frustration for us.

But we need to be careful how we anticipate. When Paul wrote this letter, the readers had apparently received a letter claiming to be from Paul, giving the impression that Christ had already returned, and they’d missed it (2Th 2.2). Paul went to the trouble of signing this current letter himself, so they’d have his signature to compare to any future letters (2Th 3.17).

What does Paul tell them here? He says the Lord won’t return until several things have happened:

a falling away, or “apostasy” (2Th 2.3)
the revealing of a “man of lawlessness” (2Th 2.3)
the removal of a “restrainer” (2Th 2.6-7)

There a lot of stuff to argue about here. :-) As I’ve noted before, prophecy is hard, and we should expect to have our disagreements over the details without viewing one another as spiritually blind or weak on the authority of Scripture. Paul notes that he’s explained all this to the Thessalonians in person (2Th 2.5-6), so he doesn’t need to say any more. Many of us wish he had, but this is where God has left us for now.

Over the centuries people have tried to identify the “man of lawlessness,” which many assume to be the same as the one that John in his epistles calls “the antichrist.” The Reformers thought it was the pope; during World War II both Hitler and Mussolini were suggested; then Henry Kissinger; and even Ronald Reagan (6 letters in each of his three names, you know—666).

And who or what is the “restrainer”? Rome? the Catholic Church? Christians? the Spirit, who indwells Christians?

Nobody knows. Well, nobody but God, for now. And Paul, and apparently his readers, now long dead (2Th 2.6).

But there’s one interpretation of this passage I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t make.

Some people read 2Th 2.8-12 to say that if someone heard the gospel before the Rapture, then afterwards he won’t be able to believe and be saved. God will send him delusion (2Th 2.11).

I don’t think this passage says that. It says that God sends delusion to “those who are perishing” (2Th 2.10). Let’s not read anything more into it than Paul put there. If it’s the Tribulation period, and you want to come to Jesus, you come. He’ll welcome you. That’s what he does (Mt 11.28-30; Jn 6.37).

Paul’s word for his readers is the very opposite of off-putting. He thanks God for choosing his readers for salvation (2Th 2.13). He has every confidence.

And what should we do with that confidence? How do we occupy ourselves as we live in this brightest light?

Stand firm. Hold on resolutely to what the apostles have taught (2Th 2.15).

We don’t focus our efforts on when Christ is coming, or the details of how Christ’s return is all going to work out in the end. We don’t descend into wrestling matches about the details.

What do we do instead?

We live on.

We believe what God has told us, and we live out his plan for each of us individually, day to day.

Loving God (Mt 22.37).

Loving our neighbors (Mt 22.39). All of them.

Being ambassadors for Christ (2Co 5.20).

Taking the story of Jesus and his love to all who haven’t heard, starting right here in our town and extending to the very ends of the earth (Ac 1.8).

And how do you think that’ll turn out?

God’s going to give us the strength to be faithful till he comes (2Th 2.16-17).

And when the time’s right, he’s going to come.

Right on schedule.

Just as he has always planned.

Live on, my friend, this day, and however many more days he’s scheduled for you.

Part 4

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Living in the Brightest Light, Part 2: Justice Wins

August 8, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

As we live in the light of Christ’s return, in his brief second letter to the Thessalonian church Paul emphasizes three ideas that drive our thinking, attitudes, and choices. The first he gets to right away: when Christ returns, no injustice will be left uncorrected (2Th 1).

Paul begins all his letters with a standard 4-part introduction. First, he names himself (and sometimes others, e.g. 1Co 1.1) as the author(s). Here, Silas and Timothy are with him (2Th 1.1a). Second, he names the recipients (2Th 1.1b). Third, he offers a benediction (2Th 1.2). If you’ll compare his epistles, you’ll find that this third section is the most consistent from letter to letter. And fourth, in most cases he offers a prayer of thanksgiving for something about them.

These prayers are instructive. There isn’t one in Galatians; Paul is taking those folks straight to the woodshed (Gal 1.6ff). But with other churches he always finds something to be thankful for; even in Corinth, where they’re taking each other to court (1Co 6.1) and getting drunk at the Lord’s Supper (1Co 11.20-21), Paul manages to thank God that they have a lot of spiritual gifts (1Co 1.4-8)—even if they’re abusing them (1Co 12-14).

Here in Thessalonica, Paul rejoices that his readers are continuing to grow in Christ, even though they’re being persecuted. The persecution had started right at the very beginning of the church (Ac 17.5-10) and had continued after Paul left (1Th 2.14-16; 3.4). Paul doesn’t speak of this as though it’s a sign that something has gone terribly wrong; he mentions it matter-of-factly, no doubt because he knew of Jesus’ teaching that persecution would surely come to his followers (Jn 16.33).

So how should they respond to the persecution? I find it interesting that there are no calls to imprecatory prayer, no combat techniques, no legal advice. Paul sets forth just two Big Ideas.

Christ’s Coming Is Going to Right All the Wrongs

First, we don’t need to wrestle with our opponents. Those who oppose God’s people are dealing with an Opponent they can never defeat, who will most certainly call them to account for their evil choices, and who will carry out justice for all the injustices done (2Th 1.6-9).

Not our job. God’s better at it anyway.

And Paul points out that in that day, we will have “relief” (2Th 1.7)—but even beyond that, we will “glorify” and “marvel at” him (2Th 1.10). You know what it’s like when your team wins. The place just explodes, and everyone’s screaming and shouting and hugging and pumping their fists in the air. The fireworks go off, and eventually the party moves out into the street and around the block, and everyone’s just beside himself with sheer delight.

It’s going to be all right. Exponentially better than all right.

Some people scoff this off as “pie in the sky.” Bourgeoisie trying to keep the oppressed happy under their thumb. Trying to crush the proletariat.

And there’s no question that that sort of thing has gone on. But to suggest that here is a category error. It is to suggest that persecution is abuse by a hostile master rather than training by a supportive coach. And it assumes, without evidence, its most fundamental premise—that both “the pie” and “the sky” are fiction.

We have every reason to believe the opposite.

We Have More Important Things to Attend To

Since God’s going to take care of the unpleasant business, we can devote our time to more important things. Paul writes,

We pray for you always, that our God will count you worthy of your calling, and fulfill every desire for goodness and the work of faith with power, ¹²so that the name of our Lord Jesus will be glorified in you, and you in Him, according to the grace of our God and the Lord Jesus Christ (2Th 1.11-12).

We have a calling, you see—one that our heavenly Coach—and I say that reverently—is exercising us toward through the very persecution itself. This calling involves several elements—

Goodness
Faithful (persistent, enduring) work—with power
Glorifying God—and being glorified by him

Wow. That’s a lot more fun than plotting the demise of my theological opponents.

I think I’ll work on that instead.

Part 3 Part 4

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Living in the Brightest Light, Part 1: Introduction

August 5, 2019 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

Christmas. Summer vacation. Birthday.

Marriage. Childbirth.

We love to anticipate things. Can’t wait. It’s gonna be awesome.

And the anticipation is half the fun, isn’t it?

When my wife and I were first married, one of the things I had to learn was that whereas I’m impulsive and like to do things on the spur of the moment, she enjoys the anticipation phase more. Rather than coming home from work and suggesting that we go out for supper tonight, I needed to learn to make the suggestion in the morning so she’d enjoy having time to think about it.

That’s a pretty simple adjustment, and an enjoyable one at that.

As a biblicist, I’m always asking myself, “What’s the biblical perspective on, or approach to, this or that topic?” So what’s the biblical perspective on anticipation?

Does God anticipate things?

Well, he certainly talks a lot about the future, and he seems to enjoy the prospect of what’s coming. Isaiah 11 comes to mind.

Theologians say that God lives beyond time—but then, no one really knows what that means. He certainly knows about time and understands it perfectly—having created it—and he speaks as though he’s thinking in terms of time, though he knows the end from the beginning (Isa 46.10).

Jesus endured the cross “for the joy that was set before him” (Heb 12.2). That sounds like anticipation to me.

Should we anticipate things?

If God’s doing all that anticipating in the Bible, he clearly intends that it should be part of our thinking as well. We ought to look forward to stuff. Excitedly, eagerly, expectantly.

What stuff?

What should we look forward to? Is there any biblical guidance on that?

I’m not asking what our purpose or goal for life is, though that’s an important question too—in fact, I think it includes our question, though it’s broader and more basic than it. The Bible gives us guidance on the larger question of purpose, reason for living:

Clearly the Prime Directive is, as the scholars say, “doxological”—we exist for the purpose of giving glory to God, both in this life (1Co 10.31) and the next (Rev 7.9-12). Even eating and drinking are things we should do for his glory.
- Sidebar: How do you eat and drink to the glory of God? You recognize food and drink as gifts from a generous God, creatively designed for our pleasure (color, texture, flavor, etc.) and given to us freely and abundantly. You delight in his supply and his artistry even as you delight in the food. Eating, properly done, should be an act of worship. But we’re not worshiping the food—that’s gluttony, a form of idolatry. We worship the Creator, not what he has created (Rom 1.25).
Along the way we consider other things. As just one example, Jesus said that he came to give us “abundant” life (Jn 10.10). We exist to live abundantly: joyously, committedly, living out all the fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5.22-23) with delight.

Now, as part of that purposeful life, what do we anticipate? What do we look forward to?

The Bible speaks to that as well.

We look forward to the return of Christ; we are “those who look for him” (Heb 9.28); “from [heaven] we look for the Saviour” (Php 3.20); we look “for that blessed hope, even the glorious appearing of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ” (Ti 2.13). We’ve been doing that from the moment he left (Ac 1.11). It’s the greatest of our anticipations.

So how do we live in light of that certain coming event? How do we live in light of it—the brightest light?

There’s a little book in the Bible that focuses on that question. It’s in the New Testament, a letter by Paul. We call it 2 Thessalonians—because it’s one of two letters he wrote to a church in Thessalonica (today’s Thessaloniki, or Saloniki), and because it’s the shorter. (Really; they put it after 1 Thessalonians primarily because it was shorter—though most commentators also believe it was written second.)

The book’s 3 chapters address 3 ideas:

Christ’s coming is going to right all the wrongs.
Christ’s coming will happen on God’s timetable.
We should be living as God’s stewards in the meantime.

There’s a lot to talk about here.

We’ll get to it next time.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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For My Angry Friends, Part 8: Concluding Thoughts

July 25, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Paul has certainly made his point in his letter to Titus. Believers ought to be different from the general population in specific ways—soberness, gentleness, kindness, humility, subjection—and for specific reasons—God’s undeserved gentleness and kindness to us, the presence of his Spirit in our minds, and our confidence in his faithful deliverance.

He ends the letter with something of a charge:

⁸This is a trustworthy statement; and concerning these things I want you to speak confidently, so that those who have believed God will be careful to engage in good deeds. These things are good and profitable for men. ⁹But avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and strife and disputes about the Law, for they are unprofitable and worthless. ¹⁰Reject a factious man after a first and second warning, ¹¹knowing that such a man is perverted and is sinning, being self-condemned (Ti 3.8-11).

This charge has both a positive and a negative element. Positively, he says, pass these thoughts along (v 8). Encourage others to do the same. Make the concept go viral.

In a very small way, that’s what I’m doing, and I would encourage you to add your voice.

On the negative side, he says, don’t get into stupid arguments. Specifically he names “genealogies” and “disputes about the Law” (v 9)—that is, the Mosaic Law. That may seem a little odd to us; those aren’t typically things we fight about. It’s here we need to remind ourselves that Paul’s epistles were “occasional”—that is, they were written to address specific situations in specific local churches. On Crete, where Titus was overseeing a network of churches (Ti 1.5), these two things were apparently causing a lot of contention.

But clearly his larger principle is that we shouldn’t be fighting about anything that is “unprofitable and worthless” (v 9). That requires some judgment on our part, some soberness, of which Paul spoke back in chapter 2. In our current culture, it’s clear that many people careen from controversy to controversy, herded like sheep by the Arbiters of The Outrage of the Day.

Here’s an observation. We don’t have to care about the Outrage of the Day. Unless it’s an outrage by biblical standards. And even when we care, we engage in the public conversation with gentleness, kindness, and grace, remembering the pit from which we have been digged [sic], the undeserved kindness of our good and great God, and our responsibility to represent him well in a world that would much prefer to blaspheme him at any provocation.

Avoid foolish controversies. You don’t have to comment, like, or share.

Paul takes it a step further. When someone you know does that, he says, warn him, and then reject him (Ti 3.10). The word translated “reject” begins with begging someone to stop what he’s doing, then expressing disapproval and withdrawing your support. In the ancient world it’s used of declining an invitation and even of divorcing a wife.

Reject him. Paul says he’s “self-condemned.”

Yikes.

If more people took the current polarizing nonsense seriously enough to act this way on it, I wonder how long it would drive the public conversation. Social consequences bring changed behavior.

But as is always the case with biblical admonitions, we need to get the beam out of our own eye before we lecture our brothers. Back to self-assessment and repentance.

And then, certainly, spread the message. Pass the word. “Speak confidently” (Ti 3.8). Make this kind of evil have consequences.

Shalom, my friends.

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For My Angry Friends, Part 7: Foundation II

July 22, 2019 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

As I’ve noted already, Paul is driving a point home in Titus chapters 2 and 3: believers should be different from unbelievers in specific ways, and there’s a solid theological reason for that. In chapter 2 he speaks to specific groups of Christians; in chapter 3 he speaks to Christians in general. We’ve looked at two ways all believers should be different from the general population: in the way they treat the government, and in the way they treat all people, specifically including unbelievers.

He spends most of the rest of the chapter explaining why we should act this way. The core of his explanation is verses 3 through 7:

³For we also once were foolish ourselves, disobedient, deceived, enslaved to various lusts and pleasures, spending our life in malice and envy, hateful, hating one another. ⁴But when the kindness of God our Savior and His love for mankind appeared, ⁵He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit, ⁶whom He poured out upon us richly through Jesus Christ our Savior, ⁷so that being justified by His grace we would be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life (Ti 3.3-7).

There’s a lot to digest here, but let me see if I can boil it down.

We used to be just like everybody else: sinful, depraved, hateful.
But now there’s a significant difference—a divine, infinite one. God himself loved us, and because he loved us, he showed kindness to us and in fact saved us, rescued us from all that nonsense, and gave us a new and different kind of life.
He did this despite the fact that we didn’t deserve it. After all, we were just like everybody else.
He has poured out his Spirit on us. We have God himself living in us, changing the very nature of who and what we are and the way we think.
As a result, we have standing with God—we are his heirs, his sons and daughters—and we have a completely different outlook, being focused not on the here and now but on eternal life.

Well, that ought to make a difference in how we behave, shouldn’t it?

It ought to keep us from being uppity toward those who are where we used to be.
It ought to keep us from being proud of our wisdom or understanding or position, because he didn’t save us because of who we were or what we thought or did.
It ought to make us mouthpieces for the Spirit of God himself.
It ought to keep us from freaking out about present short-term controversies. Our words and actions should demonstrate the calmness and peace of long-term assured victory.

In the next paragraph Paul is going to make some final application; we’ll get to that next time. But in preparation for that, it’s time for each of us to take inventory and do some self-assessment.

In what ways does my daily thinking, my view of the world and my life in it, reflect grace, mercy, and peace?
What things make me angry and/or frustrated? Are they things of eternal significance or short-term irritations?
If they’re of eternal significance, what is my frustration saying about the goodness, wisdom, and faithfulness of God, and my understanding and application of them?
What people do I think I’m better or smarter than? What does that thinking say about me?
Undoubtedly there are people I know who are troubled and looking for help. Will my public discourse make it likely that they will seek me out for that help? Will they expect grace, mercy, and peace from me?

Next time we’ll wrap this discussion up with a look at Paul’s closing comments in this epistle.

Part 8

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For My Angry Friends, Part 6: Demonstration II

July 18, 2019 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

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

So the first way we demonstrate that we’re Christians, according to Paul in Titus 3, is the way we interact with the government. What’s the second?

It’s the way we interact with unbelievers. Take a look at verse 2:

to malign no one, to be peaceable, gentle, showing every consideration for all men (Ti 3.2).

One observation immediately. The word men here is the Greek anthropos, which is not gender-specific. (There’s a different word, andros, that refers to men as males.) So believers should show every consideration for all humans, including non-believers, and including women.

Hmm. Seems like that might include The Squad as well.

Now. What does Paul say specifically that “every consideration” should include?

First, “malign no one.” You might be surprised to hear that the Greek word translated “malign” is blasphemeo, to blaspheme. That simply means to say something about someone that isn’t true. We usually think of this word in relation to God—we wouldn’t tell a liar that he has “blasphemed” Mr. So-and-So—but in the New Testament culture it was used of any false speaking about anyone. These days we’d call that “slander.”

Don’t lie about people.

I’ve written on that before, but here I’d like to come down a little harder on the concept.

We all have a responsibility for our own words: we need to ensure that they’re truthful. That means doing some research before we say (or write) stuff. Sure, you’re free to pass on that meme; but before you do, you’d better go to the trouble of making sure it’s true, because the minute you hit the “Share” button, those words become your words, and if they’re not true, then you, my friend, have become a liar. You can’t avoid responsibility by saying, “I’m not sure if this is true or not; I just wanted to pass it along for what it’s worth.” They’re your words now; you’re responsible for them. If they’re false, you’re a liar.

You want to talk about the importance of personal responsibility? Then exercise some.

Don’t lie about anybody. “Malign no one.” God said that.

Next, Paul says, “be peaceable.” That’s amachos, or “not [given to] battle,” the way atheist means “not [believing in] God.” (And no, it doesn’t have any relation to the Spanish word macho, which comes from the Latin root behind masculine.)

Be more inclined to make peace than to fight. Jesus talked about that, didn’t he? “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he said, “for they shall be called offspring of God” (Mt 5.9). Which is precisely what Paul is saying here. People will know you’re a believer because, unlike them, you move situations toward peace rather than conflict.

Ouch.

I’m often not like that. Especially around lousy customer service. Or slow drivers in the left lane.

But peaceableness is a characteristic of God’s people, who have God’s Spirit living in them. They walk into tense situations and calm everybody down rather than riling them up.

Be peaceable. In your posts.

Can I confess something?

I have a lot of FB friends—again, on both sides—who pass on garbage. I don’t want to block them, because they’re friends, and not everything they pass on is garbage, and I want to know how they’re doing. But when the garbage has a distinct source—some political FB page, for example—I click on it and block that source. Forever. And that means that when that friend passes on that source’s material in the future, I won’t see it. But I’ll still see their posts about their kids. That makes me calmer. And that in turn helps make me more peaceable.

Third, be “gentle.” At the root of this Greek word is the idea of fairness, even-handedness, and thus reasonableness, kindness, gentleness, tolerance.

How about that. Tolerance isn’t just the byword of our admittedly troubled culture; it’s a biblical command.

Of course we’re not supposed to let sin go unchallenged, and we’re not supposed to call evil good (Isa 5.20). But we can treat those who disagree with us as if they’re actual human beings, in the image of God and thus of infinite value. We can acknowledge our disagreements with dignity and gentleness.

But we don’t, do we? Not often. That doesn’t get likes or shares.

Wouldn’t it be great if people who claim to be Christians routinely acted like it? Wouldn’t it be great if these 2 short verses by Paul didn’t condemn most of what we say in our most public forums?

Yeah, it sure would.

Part 7 | Part 8

Photo by Wes Grant on Unsplash