Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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How It Ends, Part 4: Living in the Now—Patient Endurance

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Part 1: Taking the Long View | Part 2: Anticipating the Then | Part 3: Living in the Now—Confident Expectation

We live now in the confident expectation of Christ’s certain return.

But in spite of that bright light at the end of the tunnel, we do indeed live in a tunnel, and roses don’t grow in tunnels. The Bible has more to say about how we live as we anticipate The Light.

After lambasting those of his day who hold all the social power and oppress those who don’t (Jam 5.1-6), James turns to the unempowered—which in those days included the Christians—and says,

7 Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain. 8 Be ye also patient; stablish your hearts: for the coming of the Lord draweth nigh (Jam 5.7-8).

Be patient, he says. This is the word used to describe Abraham’s waiting—for years—for a son through Sarah (He 6.15). It’s the word used to describe the Lord’s waiting for us to come to repentance (2P 3.9).  It’s the first word listed in the virtues of love (1Co 13.4).

You know people like this. You’re all torqued about something, and in a frenzy, and there’s that old guy who’s just sitting calmly, at peace, in stark contrast to your gesticulations, your full-bore linear panic. And when the panic has passed and the chaos has settled, it becomes obvious that the old guy had the sensible response—usually because this isn’t his first rodeo. It’s those with long experience who are in a position to “keep calm and carry on”—to focus on executing the fundamentals when it looks like the other team is just going to run up the score. To be the tortoise rather than the hare.

The illustration James chooses for this characteristic is the farmer. He prepares the soil, and then plants the seed, and then prays for rain.

And then waits.

Most of us, being continental Americans, are used to four seasons: spring, summer, fall, winter. In much of the world, however, particularly the tropics, there are just two seasons: dry and rainy. I’ve spent a fair amount of time in equatorial countries (Ghana, Kenya, Tanzania) where the temperature—and the day length—hardly changes at all. What changes is the precipitation. In the dry season, we’ll go weeks with no rain. In the rainy season, we hardly ever miss a day of rain. If we’re doing work in the bush villages, we have to plan to avoid the rainy season, because the dirt roads will be completely impassable with mud.

Israel’s not tropical, but it does have a Mediterranean climate, where summers are warm and dry and winters are mild and wet. The first, or “early,” rains of the rainy season normally arrive right after the Feast of Booths (Sukkoth) in the fall, allowing the farmers to prepare the soil for the spring planting. The “latter” rains show up after planting, around Passover in the spring, and precipitate (pun absolutely intended) the growth of the crops.

If you’re a farmer, you can’t make it rain; you just follow the seasonal pattern, do your job, and hope this year’s precipitation is normal.

James tells us to think like the farmer.

We actually have a better deal. The farmer doesn’t know for sure that the rain will come as it usually does; droughts do happen. But we know that the Lord is surely returning, though we can’t predict the timing.

And yes, it takes longer than a few months. So far it’s taken close to 2000 years, and for all we know, it could take 100,000 more. (Yes, it could be today; but I’ve long ago lost patience [heh, heh] with the hyperbolic date-setting exploiters.)

And so we wait.

But not idly.

More on that next time.

Part 5: Living in the Now—Diligent Occupation

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How It Ends, Part 3: Living in the Now—Confident Expectation

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Part 1: Taking the Long View | Part 2: Anticipating the Then

If we’re living with the end in mind—an eternity living in intimate fellowship with God, and serving him perfectly—then how do we live now? What are our priorities?

Like all the most important questions, the Bible answers this one clearly. I’d like to offer three passages where the New Testament addresses the answer.

Anticipate with Confidence

In his last recorded words to his protégé Titus, whom he left on the island of Crete to oversee the churches there (Ti 1.5), Paul gives him some imperatives designed to last him for life:

11 For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, 12 Teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world; 13 Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Saviour Jesus Christ; 14 Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works (Ti 2.11-15).

Some of this he has said often elsewhere: in light of God’s grace to us (Ti 2.11), we should live seriously and righteously (Ti 2.12). No surprises there.

But then he adds a descriptor, a participle, that applies specifically to what we’ve been discussing; he says we are to “look for” Jesus’ return, the event that distinguishes the present age from the next, the event to which life as we know it points. This verb describes Simeon and Anna, and indeed all the Jews of their day, living under the bondage of Rome and the hated Roman puppet Herod the Great, as they anticipated and longed for the day when they would be liberated once more (Lk 2.25, 38). It describes Joseph of Arimathea, who as a member of the Sanhedrin, the Supreme Court of Israel, had not consented to the council’s condemnation of Jesus and then risked his career by asking Pilate for custodianship of the body of the crucified “blasphemer” (Mk 15.43; Lk 23.51)—a body that in the eyes of the council should be thrown out in the trash with the bodies of the other two miscreants. Joseph’s most noteworthy characteristic, in the eyes of the two Evangelists, is that he “was waiting for the kingdom of God.”

That’s our verb. That’s how we’re supposed to be thinking and living—“looking for” Jesus’ return. Or, as Paul calls it here, “that blessed hope.” I’ve noted before that biblical hope is different from how we use the word today. To us, hope is something we wish for. Maybe it’s likely, maybe it’s not; as is evident from the size of the jackpots, millions of people buy lottery tickets in the forlorn hope that one day they’ll hit the big one. Some wag has observed that a public lottery is a tax on people who are bad at math. They hope, many of them fervently, even religiously. But if their dreams come true, they’ll be more surprised than anyone else.

That’s not biblical hope. Hope is the anticipation of a certain future event. It’s the president-elect waiting for Inauguration Day; it’s the senior who’s just passed all his final exams; it’s the engaged couple focused intently on the coming June Saturday.

This is not wishing; it’s explosive, confident anticipation. It’s taking the future to the bank.

There’s a lot we don’t know about the future. It may hold financial setbacks, or job loss, or terminal disease, or sudden, violent death. We don’t know what life will be like for our children and grandchildren, should the Lord tarry. Even as we study prophecy, we don’t know—for sure—when Jesus will return, or when it will be in relation to the Tribulation, or what the Millennium will be like, or which ZIP Code of the New Jerusalem we’ll occupy, or what we’ll do with our time—or the absence of it.

So many unanswered questions.

But this we do know.

Jesus is coming back. For us. And for justice. And for eternal day.

Anticipate, with confidence.

Next time, more ways to live as we anticipate.

Part 4: Living in the Now—Patient Endurance | Part 5: Living in the Now—Diligent Occupation

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How It Ends, Part 2: Anticipating the Then

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Part 1: Taking the Long View

I noted last time that there’s quite a bit of biblical material about the millennium. Assuming that the millennial passages should be taken with a reasonable amount of ordinary hermeneutic, this period will be characterized by

Our knowledge of the eternal state, however, is much less extensive. Most of it is confined to the last two chapters of the Bible, Revelation 21-22. The environment portrayed there seems to have two outstanding characteristics:

Perfect fellowship with God

God and the Lamb light the whole city (Re 21.23)—and likely the whole world, given that “the nations will walk by its light” (Re 21.24). Recall that at the Transfiguration, Jesus’ garments shone whiter than any launderer could bleach them (Mk 9.3); that Paul was blinded by Jesus’ heavenly glory (Ac 9.8-9, 18); and that when Jesus’ closest friend, John, saw him glorified, he fell at his feet (Re 1.17).

But there, all the barriers—sin, distance, visibility—will be removed. You and I are going to enjoy the open, intimate, personal presence of the Godhead.

Perfect service for God

There we will be in a position to worship God perfectly; we’re told that “his servants will worship him” (Re 22.3), in a time when we have bodies like Christ’s resurrected body (Php 3.21), and we will be like him in other ways as well (1Jn 3.2).

We worship him today, both in private and in public, but our worship is dented by our sinfulness, by distraction, by limitations of imagination and creativity, and by all sorts of other factors. Yet even in this broken state worship is highly satisfying, both to us and to God.

I recall attending church a few years ago in Arad, Israel, with a small Messianic Jewish congregation. They met in a house on Shabbat. As I entered, a young lady just inside the door asked, “What language?” When I answered, “English,” she twisted a knob on a small black box and handed it to me with a set of headphones. I entered the living room and sat down with 30 or 40 other people seated close together.

The preacher began speaking—in Hebrew—but I heard a live translation in English. As I looked around the room, I noticed that most had on headphones, but a handful had microphones as well, and they were speaking softly as the sermon continued. I learned afterward that translations were available in German, French, Spanish, Arabic, and a North African tribal language as well as English.

I couldn’t help thinking that this was a delightful foretaste of glory divine, of the day when every kingdom, tongue, tribe, and nation will be gathered around the throne, singing and shouting the praise of the Lion of Judah, the Lamb who was slain (Re 7.9ff).

Even here, worship can be delightful.

But there, there, all those limitations will be done away. We will worship him purely and completely, and we will serve him perfectly and successfully as well.

What will that service look like? Will there be white-collar and blue-collar jobs? Will there be physical kinds of service as well as spiritual? Will God send us shooting off through the regenerated universe on missions of importance to the accomplishing of his will?

All good questions; thanks for asking them. But by God’s choice—and his grace—we don’t know the answers. All we know is that we will serve him—and serve him perfectly.

So that means—to put it in absurdly simple terms—that everything’s going to turn out just fine.

And that presents us with a question: What do we do in the meantime? How do we think? How do we make decisions? How do we feel?

How do we live?

More on that next time.

Part 3: Living in the Now—Confident Expectation | Part 4: Living in the Now—Patient Endurance | Part 5: Living in the Now—Diligent Occupation

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

How It Ends, Part 1: Taking the Long View

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It’s human nature to focus on the Now.

Sometimes that looks like shallowness: the magazines in the checkout line at the grocery store, the obsession with celebrities, many of whom are famous for nothing more than being famous.

Sometimes it looks like self-centeredness: hoarding, the manic grasping for whatever’s right in front of you, from Tickle Me Elmo to toilet paper, before somebody else gets it.

Sometimes it looks like fear, or even despair, over the state of the world, the suffering of so many, wave after wave of insoluble problems.

There’s a difference between stewardship—doing your best to approach life’s problems sensibly and successfully—and nearsightedness. From driving a car to inhabiting the C suite in a multinational corporation, we know that it’s unwise to obsess over the immediate or to downplay the long-term view.

It’s wise to proceed with the end in mind.

For the Christian, that means staying focused on the certain divine victory.

There are many who scoff at such things. It’s pie in the sky. It’s how the empowered and privileged manipulate the masses into not revolting and casting off exploitation.

I’m not for the empowered and privileged manipulating the masses into not revolting and casting off exploitation; the prophets talk a lot about that, and Jesus speaks to it as well. But I would argue that thinking eschatologically is not in fact pie in the sky, and it’s not properly used to manipulate the unempowered.

It’s not only a worthwhile occasional exercise; it’s the only way of life that makes any sense.

I’ve written here before on the difficulty of developing an eschatological system, because the prophetic genre is inherently and intentionally clouded; God intends that the prediction not be fully understood until it is fulfilled. I speculate that one reason he might do that is so that the outcome—and the accuracy of the prediction—would have maximum impact on the audience. If you’ve been trying unsuccessfully to figure out a puzzle for centuries, then the resolution is going to hit you like a ton of bricks.

That’s essentially what educators call discovery learning, and in my experience it’s the most impactful kind. When a student learns something for himself, he considers it his own personal property, and he’ll remember and use it for a long time—often for the rest of his life.

But even though interpreting the Bible’s eschatological material is difficult, and even though we’re unlikely to figure it all out ahead of time, and even though we have to come to our conclusions humbly, it’s still worth studying the material—first, because it’s Bible, and going to the metaphorical gym in your study of Scripture is a means of grace, building spiritual muscle in you; and second, because in this area of theology, as in all others, God has made the important stuff, the stuff necessary for now, clear enough. There are some things of which we can be certain.

I’d like to spend a few posts investigating how it all ends. There are significant arguments, as we would expect, over the path we follow to get there, and when that will happen, but the main truths of how it ends are pretty clear. And thus it’s equally clear how we should live now in light of where we’re headed.

I’ll note that while there’s quite a bit of biblical material on what we call the millennium, that material suffers from the same clarity problem that other prophecy does. Bible students can’t agree on whether the millennium is real or symbolic; whether it lasts a thousand years or something else; whether it’s in heaven or on earth; or even whether Christ is visibly ruling or not.

I’ll note that I have an opinion on all this—I’m premillennial, and I have what I think are good reasons for holding that position—but if it turns out that God has some other approach in mind, I’m not going to be overly surprised, and I’m not going to go all Peter at Caesarea Philippi (Mt 16.22-23) and try to change his mind.

So my concern in this series isn’t the millennium; I’ll let the millennium take care of the things of itself. I want to look at the very end, after everybody’s eschatological system has been either confirmed or, more likely, corrected. What then?

We have very little biblical material on that—what theologians call the eternal state, and what most people refer to, accurately or not, as “heaven.”

Next time we’ll see what we can wisely discern from that little bit of material.

Part 2: Anticipating the Then | Part 3: Living in the Now—Confident Expectation | Part 4: Living in the Now—Patient Endurance | Part 5: Living in the Now—Diligent Occupation

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Integrity Matters, Part 2: Case Study

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Part 1: Two Commandments

In Acts 5, we read of Ananias and Sapphira, a couple in the church at Jerusalem, who sell a piece of land and donate some of the proceeds to the church.

The Motive: Personal Recognition (Ac 4.32-5.2)

Hidden under the surface of this simple and apparently commendable act, however, are two key facts:

  • They do this immediately after many other church members, including a highly esteemed man named Barnabas, have done something similar (Ac 4.32-37).
  • They lie by saying that the money they’ve donated is the entire proceeds of the sale (Ac 5.2, 8).

It’s pretty clear what’s going on here.

Everybody’s making sacrificial donations to the church. Ananias and Sapphira don’t want to appear selfish, and they want a piece of the action; they want the praise of their peers, but they don’t want to make the sacrifice Barnabas and others had made. And thus they’re willing to lie to get it.

Nearly all sin is based in pride and self-centeredness: you want something for yourself more than you want God to be glorified. And this in spite of the fact that God has already given us “all spiritual blessings” (Ep 1.3) and promises much more to come (Lk 6.38). 

What would you do for recognition? What would you do to have fellow believers think well of you? If you’d do something God forbids, then you’ve made yourself into an idol that you worship. Can you think of anything more ridiculous?

You know, the physicists tell us that you and I don’t have nearly enough mass to be the center of the universe.

The Sin: Lying to God (Ac 5.3-4)

It’s obvious that Ananias and Sapphira  lied to the church; but at bottom, as Peter tells them, they lied to God (Ac 5.4b)—who, by the way, is omniscient.

How hopeless is that?!

Sin, you see, makes you stupid.

Like the bank robber who wrote the holdup note on the back of one of his personalized checks.

They didn’t have to do any of this; as Peter tells them (Ac 5.4a), they were free to do what they wanted with their property and with the money they got from selling it. Did they really think God wouldn’t know what they had done? 

That’s just stupid. 

The Penalty: Death (Ac 5.5-10)

Ananias lies, and then he dies.

Does this penalty seem harsh? 

I’ll confess that it seems harsh to me. 

But this is a direct act of God—Peter didn’t call for it—and we know that God is just. 

Now, in this country we don’t have the death penalty for lying or stealing. I suppose there are circumstances in which your lying or stealing might get you killed—stealing copper wire from an electrical power substation is pretty risky—but you’re not likely to be executed for lying. 

But God is just, and in the end of time all the scales of justice will be balanced, and all evil will be accounted for. Don’t put him to the test.

It doesn’t stop with Ananias. His wife Sapphira doubles down on the lie, and she dies too.

Ananias, who is supposed to be a tender shepherd for his wife, leads her into sin instead of out of it. And her conspiracy just compounds the crime. 

The Outcome: Fear (Ac 5.11)

And now the body, this body so eager to care for one another, this body so generous with their belongings, this body surrounded by the grace and power of God, is afraid.

That’s what sin does—even to innocent bystanders.

It corrupts and disturbs and poisons everything it touches; it turns a delightful situation into a fearful one.

Now, this isn’t how God wants us to live. “Fear not,” Jesus said repeatedly (Mt 10.28; Lk 5.10; 8.50; 12.7, 32; passim). Perfect love, John says, casts out fear (1Jn 4.18). We sons and daughters of God should live as adults, not little children; we should be motivated by love, not by fear.

Sin keeps us from doing that. Living a lie keeps us from doing that.

Integrity matters, for so many reasons more than just reputation.

Photo by Sean Foster on Unsplash

Change, Part 7: Meditation

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Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Sovereign, Attentive, and Good | Part 3: Promise Keeper | Part 4: Present | Part 5: Trust | Part 6: Obedience

The third and final prescription God has for Joshua in a time of momentous change is also straightforward:

This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it. For then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall be successful (Jos 1.8).

3. Meditation

“Meditate” (Heb hazah) refers to an animal sound, a coo or a growl. It came to carry the idea of pondering over something by talking to yourself about it. 

What does Joshua meditate about? What has God given him? “The Book of the Law.” This is probably a reference specifically to Deuteronomy (the “second Law”), but of course Joshua had all five books of Moses.

We have an advantage over Joshua in that we have the completed Word of God. God’s inspired instruction to us goes far beyond the Law of Moses. Joshua had a record of the past works of God, His requirements of Israel, and His promises to them. As Warren Wiersbe once noted, “If Joshua was able to conquer Canaan having only the first five books of the Bible, how much more ought we to overcome now that we have a complete Bible!”

What do we know that Joshua didn’t?

There’s a lot, of course, but I think it can be summarized in two classes of revelation:

  • The Canon, which includes the rest of the Old Testament and the New Testament—the persistent failures of Israel through the period of the judges, the kings, and the Assyrian and Babylonian conquerors, as well as God’s ongoing faithfulness to them even in judgment; and the record of the Incarnation and atoning work of God’s Son, including expositions of its significance and a snapshot of its outcome at the Heavenly Throne.
  • In particular, God has revealed Himself to us perfectly and completely in the incarnate Son. As we get to know Christ as revealed in the Scripture, we will 
    • Come to know the Father better (Jn 14.9). 
    • See in the image of Christ the goal of the Father’s sanctifying work in us (Rom 8.29). 
    • Understand the meaning of His everlasting presence (Mt 28.20). 

That’s a lifetime of meditation and rumination, with persistent and substantial benefits throughout.

How did this turn out for Joshua? He models our response (Jos 1.10-11). 

10 Then Joshua commanded the officers of the people, 11 “Pass through the camp, and command the people: ‘Prepare your provisions; for in three days you are to cross over the Jordan, to go in to take possession of the land that the Lord your God gives you to possess.’ ”

He believes God—he takes his promises as certain to be fulfilled—and he acts on that belief by obeying what God has told him to do. 

This was not without risk. They were going into battle. And so are we. But we rest our hopes not on Moses, or on Joshua. We rest on Jehovah, Lord of the heavenly armies, Creator of heaven and earth, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, faithful Keeper of covenant promises, and our tender Shepherd and loving Father. 

So in chaotic times we turn the page. We take our Father’s hand, and we walk fearlessly, joyously, with Him to a delightful outcome. 

I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go” (Jos 1.9).

These words call to mind Jesus’ similar promise as He sent His disciples forth. “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go … and make disciples of all nations,” he said, and then he added, “Behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Mt 28.19-20). 

This is God’s promise to us all, including both those who are confident and those who are fearful. 

He is with us. His plans will be accomplished, for our good, and most especially for His glory. 

God reigns.

Photo by Martin Adams on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 5: A Sound Mind

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Part 1: Facing a Giant | Part 2: No Panic | Part 3: Power | Part 4: Love

When we’re facing something intimidating, God hasn’t given us a spirit that panics and runs away; rather, he gives us a set of gifts that empower us to do the opposite: to move confidently ahead to take on the challenge. The first of those gifts is strength, or power; why panic if you can take the guy? The second is love, which frees you from fearing the personal consequences of the outcome: what happens to others is of more consequence to you than what happens to you.

The third and final gift is “a sound mind” (KJV), or “sound judgment” (CSB), “discipline” (NASB), “self discipline” (NIV), “self-control” (ESV). Admittedly, those alleged “synonyms” cover a lot of territory; we’re looking at a lot of possible nuances.

We should probably start with the underlying Greek word and work our way out. The word is sophronismos, a noun apparently derived from sophos, “wise,” and phren, “understanding.” It occurs only here in the New Testament, but the related verb, sophroneo, occurs 6 times, of which 3 speak of mental health or sanity (twice of the maniac of Gadara [Mk 5.15; Lk 8.35] and once of Paul as a self-reference [2Co 5.13]), and 3 (Ro 12.3; Ti 2.6; 1P 4.7) speak of wisdom, or “self-control over one’s passions and desires,” as one lexicon puts it. Not long after Paul wrote 2 Timothy, Clement, the bishop of Rome, wrote in an epistle to the Corinthian church that the Corinthian women were managing “the affairs of their household in seemliness, with all discretion” (1Clement 1.3), and Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, wrote to the Philippian church that “our widows must be sober-minded concerning the faith of the Lord” (PPhil 4.3).

So this has to do with clear thinking—not so much raw intelligence, but the ability to analyze a problem and to come up with a practical solution.

I had an uncle like that. His name was Clarence, but everybody called him Red, and family called him Hooligan. As a boy I actually thought that was his name, until a teacher looked at me oddly when I referred to “my Uncle Hooligan.” Red dropped out of school after the third grade, I think it was, and went to work doing whatever he could that was reasonably age appropriate. He spent most of his adult life in construction and excelled at it. My Dad spoke almost reverently of his ability to look at a construction problem and just know, apparently intuitively, what the solution was. When he worked with trusses, it appeared to Dad that Red, the third-grade dropout, was doing trigonometry in his head.

I suspect that his skill was a combination of natural ability and lots of experience.

But we have something far more powerful—a divine gift, designed to enable us to see an intimidating problem through to a successful solution. Even beyond that, this is self-discipline; it’s good judgment; it’s moderation. It’s what a drug addict or an alcoholic doesn’t have. In short, it’s the ability to direct your own behavior, the ability to not be out of control.

You are not at the mercy of your own temperament, or your own personality, or your own weaknesses.

Maybe you’re “not a people person”; maybe you’ve always been shy.

Maybe you’re not intellectually gifted and can’t engage in witty repartee. Maybe, like me, you don’t have a natural sense of compassion that spurs you to take a genuine interest in the lives and difficulties of others.

These characteristics do not control you; God has given you the ability to do what He asks, even if you can’t—even if you have no natural ability.

God has given you the ability to choose to do His will.

And when you put all these gifts together, intimidation loses its greatest power. It can make you afraid, but it cannot make you flee the field; it cannot make you collapse in spiritual exhaustion; it cannot make you escape by turning within yourself; it cannot leave you without workable answers.

Exercising these gifts well may take practice and thus time. But the gifts are there.

We ought to use them.

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 4: Love

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

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

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

It may help if we begin by defining our terms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 3: Power

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

When, like Timothy, you’re facing a challenge that seems too big for you, it’s helpful to know that there’s no need to panic, because our Father has not given us a panicking kind of spirit.

But it’s also helpful to know what he has given us. Paul specifies three gifts from an omnipotent, gracious, knowledgeable, and sympathetic Father. The first of these is power.

God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2Ti 1.7).

There are two common Greek words for power. One means “authority”; it’s the word used in Mt 28.18—“All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth.” It’s also used in Jn 1.12—“to them gave he power to become the sons of God.” That’s not the word used here, but it’s worth noting that we do have divine authority, for the reasons specified in these two verses. Our commission to go and make disciples (Mt 28.19-20) comes directly from Jesus, who does have all the authority in heaven and in earth; and because his work has made us sons of God, we carry princely authority whenever we pursue his will.

But, as noted, the word translated “power” in 2Timothy 1.7 is the other word, the word that means “might” or “strength.” As you’ve often been told, it’s the word from which we get our word dynamite—though, as has often been noted (see, e.g., D. A. Carson, Exegetical Fallacies), you probably should ignore that fact, because since dynamite hadn’t been invented in biblical times, it has no impact whatsoever on our understanding of the biblical text.

Very commonly in the New Testament it’s used as one of the three Greek words for miracles. There’s signs, which emphasizes the meaning of the miracle—they’re not just done to entertain us, you know—and wonders, which emphasizes the effect on the eyewitnesses, and then miracles, which is our word, often translated “mighty works,” which emphasizes the power of the miracle-worker. (The three terms are used together in Acts 2.22, 2Corinthians 12.12, Hebrews 2.4.)

Interestingly, though the word power in Matthew’s record of the Great Commission is not this word, Luke’s rendering of the same commission in Acts does include it:

But ye shall receive power, after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you: and ye shall be witnesses unto me both in Jerusalem, and in all Judaea, and in Samaria, and unto the uttermost part of the earth (Ac 1.8).

Luke had earlier noted Jesus’ promise to his disciples that this power would come upon them:

And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high (Lk 24.49).

And Paul prays for the Ephesian believers that they will “be strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man” (Ep 3.16). Same word.

This is something we have. It is the strength supplied by God, manifested in us. It’s an irresistible force, an unstoppable strength; it’s the arm of the Almighty, the raw power evidenced everywhere in his creation.

In fulfillment of Jesus’ promise at the Great Commission, it’s the power that was poured out on the disciples at Pentecost, the power that turned the world upside down (Ac 17.6).

It’s what you need to get things done.

And God has given it to you.

God has given you the strength to do the hard thing, the thing that looks impossible, even though you’re “just not that kind of person.”

As long as your efforts are in the will of God, the strength is there to accomplish them.

Part 4: Love | Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash

Dealing with Intimidation, Part 2: No Panic

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Part 1: Facing a Giant

As he commissions “son Timothy” (1Ti 1.18) to a daunting task—one likely overwhelming to his timid constitution—Paul begins, surprisingly, by noting what God has not given him—and us. He’ll get to what he has given us in a moment.

But God’s “stinginess” is important to our success. He has not given us a spirit of fear.

For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2Ti 1.7).

This is not the usual word for fear (phobos); using that more common word, God has often reminded us that although we should not fear other people (Dt 31.3-6), we most certainly should fear Him (Dt 31.12-13); as Jesus put it,

Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell (Mt 10.28).

So it would not be true for God to say that He has not given us a spirit that is able to fear, for He has. Fear can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on its object and its justifiability.

This word means something different. As the NRSV, which I’ve quoted here, makes obvious, this is the word for “cowardice”—being controlled by fear to the point that you cannot or will not do the things that you should.

Nobody likes a coward. We glorify heroes, because they do more than we expect; but we will not tolerate a coward. We don’t ask him to be a hero; we simply ask that he do right despite his fear.

Some years ago, I had the opportunity to participate in an exercise with the Greenville County Sheriff’s Office’s SWAT team. They wanted some practice clearing a fairly complex building in a terrorist scenario, and they asked for some volunteers to play the terrorists.

Well, of course.

The deputies and the volunteers met in a room and went over the procedures. Each of the volunteers was issued a handgun and blank rounds and instructed on various limits to the exercise. Then they took us to the building and told us to go inside, position ourselves however we liked, and in 30 minutes they’d be coming in.

Some of my fellow terrorists set up hostage scenarios to complicate the deputies’ situation. I decided to go off by myself. Found a room, evaluated hiding places, and eventually decided just to wait for them inside the door.

Counted my rounds. Seven. OK.

Something this SWAT team did surprised me: stealth was not on the menu.

They came in the end door of the building with a crash, a wave of shouting, and a volley of flash-bangs.

There was no doubt that they had arrived.

Then they began working methodically down the hall in my direction, coordinating movements, pronouncing rooms “Clear!” and moving precisely as planned.

It occurred to me that in a measurable number of minutes, they were going to arrive at my location—and dispose of me. Let me tell you, that was really intimidating. I was terrified.

Even in a simulation.

As they got close, I fired down the hall, and I’m proud to say that I stopped them briefly. But then I made a fatal mistake: I neglected to count my shots. On the eighth trigger pull, the “click” brought the shout “He’s out!” and down came Sennacherib’s Assyrian hordes on my little walled city.

I was surprised, on reflection, at how scared I was, even though I knew that this was make-believe and that these burly brutes weren’t going to hurt me.

Sooner or later, we all come face to face with the fact of our fear. We’re afraid of physical danger, of course, but we’re also afraid of less physical things. We’re afraid of rejection; we’re afraid of failure; we’re afraid of biblical confrontation; we’re afraid of saying the wrong thing at funerals. I’m afraid, and so are you.

But God has not given us a spirit of cowardice; He hasn’t given us a spirit that bails out in a crisis.

God has not given us a spirit that stops short of doing what we must do. Even when we’re afraid.

Part 3: Power | Part 4: Love | Part 5: A Sound Mind

Photo by Astrid Schaffner on Unsplash