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

 

Retired Bible Professor,

Bob Jones University

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On God As Lord, Part 2

March 29, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

The crowd thinks that these babeling (yeah, I meant to spell it that way) Christians are drunk. Peter, the leader of the group, and apparently still impetuous, even after being baptized in the Spirit, can’t let that slander stand. He speaks up.

He denies that they’re drunk. It’s only 9 am. How could all these people be drunk this early in the day?

And then he begins what one commentator has called “the first Christian sermon ever preached.” I suppose. If you don’t count the ones by Christ. Or the centurion at the cross.

He takes as his text a passage from Joel 2.28-32 (Ac 2.16-21). God, the prophet said, would pour out his Spirit on all flesh.

This is a new thing.

In the Hebrew Scripture, what we call the Old Testament, the Spirit “came upon” relatively few people—warriors facing battle, sometimes, and some of the prophets. Joel foresees a day when “all flesh” would receive this gift: men and women, young and old, even servants. This would be a decisive shift in the timeline of history, what Joel calls “the last days.” That’s what’s going on at Pentecost, at Jerusalem, in the days after Jesus’ resurrection.

Peter continues his quotation of Joel beyond that. He describes astonishing things, apocalyptic things: “blood and fire and vapor and smoke” as well as changes in the heavenly bodies (Ac 2.19-20).

Hmm. Don’t see any of that happening there in Jerusalem.

Interpreters have taken different views of what’s happening here. Some say Joel’s prophecy wasn’t fulfilled at all, because none of it will happen until the end of the world. All Peter was doing was using it as an illustration. I find it difficult to square that assessment with Peter’s direct words: “this is that which was spoken by the prophet Joel” (Ac 2.16).

Others say that Joel’s prophecy was completely fulfilled at Pentecost—that references to the sun and moon are symbolic, meaning that the earthly powers will be humbled before the reigning Christ. I find that one unsatisfying as well, because there’s nothing in Joel’s prophecy to indicate to the reader that he’s moving from literal prophecy (the pouring out of God’s Spirit) to symbolic prophecy (the earthly authorities being described as the sun and the moon).

Which leaves us with a third possibility: Joel’s prophecy is partially, but not completely, fulfilled here. The pouring out of God’s Spirit on all flesh initiates a new age, which will eventuate in the apocalyptic events he describes. His prophecy plays out over a long period of time—so far, more than two millennia. Pentecost is the beginning of the “last days,” when God’s plan for history and eternity will come to maturity and fruition.

Why now? Why is the pivot point of all time here?

Peter proceeds to explain. He brings up, for the first time to this audience, the name of Jesus of Nazareth (Ac 2.22).

  • This man was endorsed by God, who empowered him to work miracles, mighty acts that some of those in the audience themselves had witnessed (Ac 2.22).
  • He was executed as part of the very plan of this God, who directs all things according to his will and for the goal of his glory (Ac 2.23).
  • And he was resurrected because God is Lord over death as well as life (Ac 2.24).

Why did God do these things? Because he had promised that he would not leave this one in the grave (Ac 2.25-28). Peter here cites another prophecy, this one by King David, in Psalm 16.8-11. But wasn’t David talking about himself? Didn’t he say, “You will not leave my soul in the grave”? Peter sees this objection coming, and he answers it conclusively.

David, he says, is still dead, a thousand years later. But David was a prophet—here his hearers would agree with him—and he knew that God would fulfill his promise to him, to have a king eternally on his throne (2S 7.12-16), even after he was dead.

This God is Lord over all. He empowers his people—ordinary people—to speak in the tribal languages of all present in this thronging crowd. He endorses an itinerant Galilean preacher, and that simple endorsement changes everything about how we view the man. He directs in the hearts of kings to arrest and execute this preacher, thereby perfectly fulfilling his plan. And then he raises him from the dead, demonstrating his lordship over unearthly as well as earthly powers.

Lord.

And there’s more to come.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Acts, lordship, New Testament, Pentecost, systematic theology, theology proper

On God As Lord, Part 1

March 27, 2023 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

It’s been said that biblical Christianity is not a religion, but a relationship. I’ve said before that the Bible uses metaphors of multiple relationships to describe our relationship with God. It’s as though no single human relationship can embrace all the complexities included in our relationship with God. Over the years I’ve thought of nearly 20 such metaphors.

In recent posts I’ve meditated on God’s standing as Father and as Husband, two of the most common metaphors in the Scripture. Here I’d like to do something similar for a third, his standing as Lord.

I could do that, I suppose, by surveying all the Bible verses that reference this concept. That would guarantee me something to write about for the rest of my life, and it would be a worthwhile study for both of my readers. But I think I’ll approach the topic in the same way I did the topic of God as Husband: I’ll choose a single passage that discusses the topic robustly and then see what’s to be found there. The passage is Acts 2, and as you know from the reference, the event is Pentecost.

For Israel God arranged a calendar designed to keep his people in constant fellowship with him. In addition to the weekly Sabbath, there were annual holidays, involving either fasting or feasting. Three of those holidays—Passover, Pentecost, and Booths—were designated as “pilgrimage feasts,” when the Law required all Jewish males to appear before God, first at the Tabernacle and later at the Temple. By New Testament times, of course, this meant coming to Jerusalem, to Herod’s Temple, the grandest Temple yet.

Pentecost occurred 50 days (thus the name) after Passover, which would be in our late spring (late May this year). Because weather was typically good, this festival was usually very well attended, with Jews returning to their homeland from all across the empire. It was a time of reunions, good food, and great rejoicing.

Luke tells us that the day “was fulfilled” (Ac 2.1). Some commentators see that wording as prophetically significant—that Luke was saying more than that a date on the calendar had come. John Polhill writes, “The ‘fulfillment’ language bears more weight than mere chronology as the fulfillment of the time of the divine promise for the gift of the Spirit (1:4f.). The time of waiting was over” (Acts, The New American Commentary Series, 96). He notes another passage (Lk 9.51) where the same author, Luke, uses the expression to mark another key turning point in the history of salvation, the crucifixion.

In the midst of all this hubbub, Jesus’ disciples gathered, perhaps in the Upper Room, but certainly inside a building (Ac 2.2), when to their surprise, the Spirit of God arrived and manifested himself in a most unusual way—a way not described anywhere else in biblical history. There was a sound of rushing wind (Ac 2.2), and tongues of fire appeared over their heads (Ac 2.3). And then they all began to speak in foreign languages—not because they knew those languages, but because “the Spirit gave them utterance” (Ac 2.4).

I think it’s safe to assume that at this point the small group of disciples erupted from the “house” and began speaking in those foreign languages to the massive crowd out in the street (Ac 2.5-6). This crowd was astonished. Those from the far reaches of the Empire were hearing the good news spoken, not in Greek, not in Aramaic or Hebrew, but in their local tribal languages—Elamite, from way east in Persia (Iran), and Cyrenian, from way west in North Africa. (That’s a 1500-mile spread, which covers pretty much the whole known world at the time—Marco Polo having not yet informed the “known world” of an entire well-developed civilization yet farther to the east.)

The crowds were perplexed. How did these people know all these languages?

Someone suggested that the disciples were drunk.

Now, I’ve talked to a lot of drunk people in my time, and never once has being drunk helped anyone speak any language more clearly.

There has to be a more sensible explanation.

Do you hear echoes of Babel?

The God over all nations, who once scattered its people around the globe by confusing their languages (Ge 11.1-9), now gathers its people from across the globe and brings them grace instead of judgment, using those very languages, or at least their linguistic descendants.

God is great, and he is good.

More next time.

Photo by Greg Rakozy on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Acts, lordship, New Testament, Pentecost, systematic theology, theology proper

On God as Our Father, Part 5: Accountability

March 9, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Likeness | Part 3: Provision | Part 4: Oversight

A father’s oversight leads easily and directly to the final characteristic of fathers that Jesus teaches in his Sermon on the Mount.

As fathers pay attention to us, they also hold us accountable. When we occasionally (?!) engage in risky or outright harmful behavior, they step in, both to prevent injury and to teach us the importance of doing what older and wiser people tell us to do.

This brings us to the topic of authority, obedience, and discipline.

We live in an age when authority is often abused, and when pretenders to authority seek to abuse the compliant. I think it’s important to note that not all authority is pathological, and there is a healthy way to hold and exercise authority. A good father doesn’t view his authority as primarily about himself or his machismo; he uses his position of strength to guide his charges down a path that is in their own best interests—that will prevent physical injury or death, or negative social or psychological or spiritual consequences. And he does that gently, that’s in a way that is appropriate and healthy for the maturity level of the child. Further, he does it out of love for the child, not for the protection of his status or manhood.

In that light, we’re in a position to understand Jesus’ teaching toward the end of the Sermon that the kingdom of heaven is limited to “the one who does the will of my Father in heaven” (Mt 7.21).

God is not a bully, fearful that his authority will be questioned or eventually overridden. How can an omnipotent God be insecure? How can an omniscient God be fearful? Can I say something reverently? God is comfortable in his own skin. He has nothing to prove and no need for applause or encouragement. He calls for worship not because he needs the personal boost, but because worship is what most directly assures our personal growth and positive outcome; it’s in our best interest, and as our Creator, Father, and the one who loves us most, he is devoted to that outcome for us.

In a very real sense, God’s call for obedience is not a threat; it’s an invitation to joy and perfect fulfillment.

It’s an act of supreme love.

Even the necessary occasional chastening.

The Scripture affirms this repeatedly:

  • As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him (Ps 103.13)
  • For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” (Ro 8.15).
  • See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are (1J 3.1).

I have known many people who have grown up without a father. The consequences of that, both in personal pain and in frequent outcomes, is substantial. I have known some of them to find healing, hope, and even joy from finding a relationship with a heavenly Father who supplies what their earthly father did not.

I can testify that my heavenly Father has never mistreated or abused me; that he has ever watched out for my needs and supplied them consistently, completely, and abundantly—far more than I needed. And often in ways that I could not have imagined in my simple prayers.

How, then, do we respond to Him? As sons and daughters—with reverence, obedience, loyalty, and love, looking to and depending on Him for our provision. 

So.

Grace, mercy, and peace to you, my friends, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: fatherhood, Matthew, New Testament, Sermon on the Mount, systematic theology, theology proper

On God as Our Father, Part 4: Oversight

March 6, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Likeness | Part 3: Provision

Our earthly fathers have duties that continue. One that surely comes to mind is oversight. That’s a duty of both parents—and older siblings as well—but again, fathers, because they usually are physically stronger than anyone else in a young family, are seen not only as providers but also as overseers, those who watch for the needs of the family (particularly physical and financial needs) and act to meet them when they arise.

Contrariwise, we don’t think much of a father who’s so wrapped up in his work, or the ball game, or the news, that his wife’s or child’s needs go unnoticed or unattended to.

A good Dad pays attention.

God is like that.

Jesus says, “Your Father … sees in secret” (Mt 6.18). And he’s not talking here about spying on you; he’s talking about seeing what good things you do and rewarding you for them. Dads watch for accomplishments, delight in them, and express praise.

Jesus continues the thought by adding that because your Father is paying attention, he also notices when you have a need (Mt 6.32). And because he’s your Father, he moves to meet that need.

In 1989 my wife and I, and our 12-month-old daughter, were traveling to Pennsylvania to spend Christmas with family. As was our practice, we split the 12-hour trip into two days for a more relaxing drive. We spent the night at a motel in southwestern Virginia, and Christmas Eve morning we set out to finish the trip.

It was unusually cold that morning—below zero Fahrenheit—and I was a bad father; it never occurred to me to check the antifreeze before starting out. If I had, I’d have seen that the radiator was frozen solid. A few miles up the road, as the system began to heat up, the lower radiator hose exploded. Steam was everywhere, and it was challenging to see to get the car safely off the interstate highway.

Pretty quickly I determined that it was the coolant system, not the engine. I knew we were just two or three miles from the next exit, and I figured that with the cold air, we might be able to make it there without coolant. Fired ‘er up and set off slowly, in the breakdown lane. When the engine temp began to rise, I stopped again and waited for it to cool down.

That worked twice, but the cold temperatures also cut down on the battery’s cranking power, and on the third try the engine wouldn’t crank.

Stuck by the side of the highway at 5 below. Because I hadn’t paid attention.

I marveled at how quickly we had gone from comfort and civilization to utter wilderness.

We sat for a while, hoping that a highway patrolman would come along, but there wasn’t much traffic, and soon the cold began to be a concern for us, with a 12-month-old in the car. I got out and flagged down a passing car, and an older couple gave me a ride to the exit.

There at that exit was an automotive repair shop. And they were open. On Christmas Eve. Which, that year, was a Saturday.

What are the chances?

And, believe it or not, they had a tow truck. So the driver and I hopped in and returned to the scene of my crime, and brought wife, baby, and car back to the shop. Thawed out the radiator, replaced the hose, and refilled it with the right concentration of antifreeze.

They didn’t take credit cards, and they didn’t take out-of-state checks. We weren’t carrying that much cash.

They took the check.

And a couple of hours after fearing for our lives, we were back on the road to Grandma’s house for Christmas.

Does God watch out for us, even when we don’t deserve it?

You bet he does.

Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: fatherhood, Matthew, New Testament, Sermon on the Mount, systematic theology, theology proper

On God as Our Father, Part 3: Provision

March 2, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Likeness

What else does is God for us, because he is our Father?

I suppose the most obvious thing a father does for his family is to provide what they need. Often the first thing a wife will say to commend her husband is that “he is a good provider.” That’s expected in cultures all around the world. The father will see to it that his family has a place to live, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. And that makes sense: since the mother is typically tasked with the care of the children, and since, at least in cultures where most paid work requires physical labor, the father is the physically stronger of the couple, it falls to the father to “bring home the bacon.”

Our heavenly Father isn’t bound by either of those constraints, but he still provides for us his children, and abundantly. Jesus has already noted that he gives rain to the just and to the unjust (Mt 5.45), but that’s just the beginning. I’ve written before on the fact that everything we really need—both physical and spiritual—is free, thanks to God’s provision. But Jesus takes it beyond common grace.

He delights to give to his children, to meet their needs, and even to give them extra. Jesus tells us to just ask the Father, and he will give us what we need: “pray to your Father who is in secret, and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you” (Mt 6.6). Just earlier, he has said that if we make charitable contributions in secret, the Father will reward us (Mt 6.4). There are other references to the Father’s “reward” in this chapter (Mt 6.1, 18). And he knows what his children need even before they ask (Mt 6.8).

Then Jesus gives his disciples a pattern for daily prayer—what we’ve come to call “The Lord’s Prayer.” We call on our Father (Mt 6.9), and we ask him for “our daily bread” (Mt 6.11)—because even though our earthly father goes to work to bring home the bacon, his ability to do so—and our ability, once we’re working—comes from God, both in his giving of health and strength and in his providential direction.

Now Jesus uses an earthy illustration to set his point. Look at the lilies, he says; they don’t do anything to provide for themselves, yet the Father arrays them in clothing of unsurpassed beauty. Look at the birds; they do no agriculture whatsoever, but the Father sees that they always have food when they need it—seeds, berries, a worm or two. Even when nature is broken by sin, “red in tooth and claw,” as Tennyson put it, the creatures of the earth manage to survive and even thrive on the Father’s generous provision.

Jesus is using here a rhetorical device called an a fortiori argument, working from the weak to the strong. If the Father provides for birds and flowers, how much more will he provide for his actual children?

He makes the point again in the next chapter—

If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him! (Mt 7.11).

And it goes even further. If he will provide our temporal, physical needs, how much more the eternal, spiritual ones? He justifies us, declaring us to be perfect, as he is perfect (2Co 5.21); he sanctifies us, setting us aside as his special treasure (1P 2.9), and progressively conforming us to the character of his Son (2Co 3.18); and one day, no matter how far we are from the finish line of perfection, he will take us the rest of the way (1J 3.2), by his grace, because that’s what we need.

That’s what fathers do.

Part 4: Oversight | Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: fatherhood, Matthew, New Testament, Sermon on the Mount, systematic theology, theology proper

On God as Our Father, Part 2: Likeness

February 27, 2023 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Introduction

We’re surveying Jesus’ teaching about our Father God in the Sermon on the Mount, where there’s a cluster of references to the topic. We’ve noted that Jesus begins (Mt 5.16) with the almost off-handed comment, or assumption, that our purpose in life is to generate respect or honor for God as our Father.

The first chapter of the sermon includes a list of areas in which Jesus tells his hearers that they must do better than just what the Law of Moses required. He states his premise first: “unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5.20). And then he lists several examples:

  • Refraining from murder is not enough; you must refrain from even hating your brother (Mt 5.21-26).
  • Refraining from adultery is not enough; you must refrain from lust (Mt 5.27-30).
  • Following the legally prescribed procedure for divorce is not enough; you must remain united even through hard times (Mt 5.31-32).
  • Keeping your vows is not enough; you must keep your word so faithfully that vows aren’t even needed (Mt 5.33-37).
  • Limiting your vengeance to what is appropriate to the offense is not enough; you must “turn the other cheek” (Mt 5.38-42).
  • Loving your neighbor is not enough; you must love your enemy as well (Mt 5.43-48).

It’s in this last section that he invokes the fatherhood of God. He says that we should love our enemies “so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven” (Mt 5.45).

Now this sounds as though Jesus is placing a works requirement on our relationship with God: “if you want to be a child of God, you’re going to have to love your enemies.” But I don’t think the context supports that interpretation at all. He goes on to describe what we call “common grace”; God gives rain to everyone, whether they’re good to him or not. In other words, God loves his enemies, and it only makes sense that those with his DNA should be like him in that respect. The point is not that if you want to be in God’s family, you’d better love your enemies; the point is that those who are in God’s family logically ought to resemble him, and by loving your enemy, you demonstrate that you do. Being like God is not a condition for being his; it’s evidence that you already are his.

Jesus adds to his thought with a logical argument: why should you get credit for loving people who love you? That’s just natural impulse, something that everybody does; you’re not so special in doing that. But if you love people who don’t love you back, well, then, that’s something extraordinary, something supernatural, something divine. That’s something that shows you are influenced by something—Someone—that most people aren’t.

And so Jesus ends the chapter by telling us to “be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5.48).

Now, this clearly requires some explanation. You and I will never be as morally perfect as God is. The unanimous testimony of centuries of Christians who have tried desperately to love God and their neighbor and their enemy is that they just can’t do it—they fall short, no matter how hard they try.

But remember the context. Jesus is not saying, “If you want a relationship with me—and my Father—you’d better be good!” That’s impossible, and he knows it’s impossible. He’s just said that our righteousness is going to have to be greater than that of the scribes and Pharisees (Mt 5.20), and Jesus knew that in the minds of his hearers, nobody could be that righteous.

Jesus is demonstrating pedagogically what his Apostle Paul will later state directly: that the way to God is not in keeping the Law, for we all know that that’s impossible. The Law was good (Ro 7.12), but it was not intended to make us righteous (Ga 3.24); it was given to show us our sin, that we are not and cannot ever be righteous. And the Law, like everything else that God gives us, does its job exceedingly well.

The Law also teaches us that we need a substitute—a lamb. And Jesus is introduced by John the Baptist as “the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (Jn 1.29). This Lamb will keep the Law in our place, and will die in our place, and his righteousness will be given freely to us (2Co 5.21).

And through his power, we can be perfect, even as our Father in heaven is perfect.

Sons and daughters are like their fathers. And so are we like Him.

Part 3: Provision | Part 4: Oversight | Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: fatherhood, Matthew, New Testament, Sermon on the Mount, theology proper

On God as Our Father, Part 1: Introduction

February 23, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The Scripture uses a lot of metaphors to describe God’s relationship with his people; it’s almost as though that relationship is so rich, so round, so multifaceted, so complex that no single earthly relationship can picture it all. The one we think of the most, though—the one that Jesus begins his pattern prayer with—is “Father.”

It’s a term widely misunderstood, especially in that theological liberals frequently speak of the “universal fatherhood of God,” with the implication that all humans are brothers, and, further, that “we all worship the same God.” Given that the gods worshiped by various cultural groups—Jews, Muslims, Hindus, animists, Christians—have significantly different natures, that statement is illogical on its face.

Christians have frequently rejected this liberal tenet—the “universal fatherhood of God”—outright, because, well, that’s what you do with liberal ideas. But our responsibility isn’t to reject reactively any view of a heretical group, but to test it by the Scripture and to be guided to the scriptural truth.

Interestingly, there is a sense in which God is the Father of all in that he is the source of their life; he is their Creator. Paul endorses this idea by citing a classical Greek poet in his sermon at Mars Hill in Athens: “we are his offspring” (Acts 17.28, citing Aratus, Phaenomena, line 5, referring to Zeus). The idea that we are all God’s created offspring is certainly biblical.

But typically when we speak of God as our Father, we’re speaking of the narrower sense in which God usually uses it—of those who are His children through the new birth, whom He has adopted into His family. 

There are about 100 passages in the New Testament that speak of God as our Father. There’s a cluster of them—by my count, about 1/6 of the total—in the Sermon on the Mount. Further, most of the important applications that the Bible makes concerning the fatherhood of God are condensed into this one sermon. It’s worth our time to take a few posts to meditate on what Jesus has to say here about this topic.

Those of us who grew up in church probably noticed in our childhood Bibles that there’s a section of Matthew where the red letters fill whole pages. There are actually two, if you include the Olivet Discourse in Matthew 24-25, but the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7 is longer. Bible students have long recognized the unique power of this sermon, from the Beatitudes with which it opens to the Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders with which it ends. The judgment of its first hearers is certainly accurate: “[Jesus] taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes” (Mt 7.29).

What does Jesus have to say about the relationship between us and our Heavenly Father? In what ways is God like a Father to us? Perhaps surprisingly, the teaching seems to be organized logically as Jesus progresses through the Sermon; if we survey his uses of the word father in order, they seem to make a logical outline.

His first reference to the Father is in Matthew 5.16: “let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

In what is almost a casual reference, Jesus assumes that our primary goal in life is to behave in such a way that others will “give glory to” our Father, or see him as worthy of respect, exaltation, even worship. Hot on the heels of the Beatitudes, which are bestowals of blessings on us, he assumes that after all, we are not the center of the universe, and that our comfort and blessing should not be our primary motivation.

We’re here to generate profound respect for someone else.

In most cultures this fits well with the concept of fatherhood. Your father is someone you respect, desire to please, and seek to obey.

Of course, all earthly fathers are flawed; none are worthy of worship, and there are many examples of fathers who are not even worthy of respect.

But God is the perfect example of fatherhood; he does all things well.

He has been a perfect Father to me and to you, and so we start with respect, with glory.

There’s much more to follow.

Part 2: Likeness | Part 3: Provision | Part 4: Oversight | Part 5: Accountability

Photo by Derek Thomson on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: fatherhood, Matthew, New Testament, Sermon on the Mount, systematic theology, theology proper

On Thinking Like Christ, Part 10: Final Thoughts

February 2, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Most Important Thing | Part 2: Moving to the Dump | Part 3: It Gets Worse | Part 4: And Worse | Part 5: Reversal | Part 6: Risen | Part 7: Ascended | Part 8: Enthroned | Part 9: Coming Again

So what’s involved in “let[ting] this mind be in [us], which was also in Christ Jesus”? In what ways ought we to think like Christ?

It’s easy to find things to imitate in the first stanza of Paul’s hymn, the humiliation phase:

  • We should be willing to give up comfort as not something to be grasped. We should not hang on to our possessions, or our status, or our circumstances. As Christ was confident in his standing as the Son of God, we should be confident in our standing as his sons and daughters, whom he will protect, and for whom he will provide all that we need. We should see our goods as resources to be invested rather than riches to be hoarded.
  • We should willingly endure discomfort, even death, for the sake of others. As Christ loves his creatures, those in his image, so should we. Even when they treat us viciously or offend our sensibilities. Or when they’re just gross. If Jesus’ life was not too much to give for their benefit, how could ours possibly be?
  • We should obey the Father no matter what. When we know what he wants us to do—when we see his will revealed in the Scriptures—we should disregard the cost, whether personal, social, financial, or whatever, and Just Do It.
  • We should see Christ’s death as an exaltation. If he “despis[ed] the shame” of the cross (He 12.2), so should we. I feel I must add, given the climate of our times, that there’s no need to be a jerk as an ambassador of Christ, but we should not back down from the truth of the gospel.

At this point in the passage some may think that there’s nothing further in Christ’s thinking that we should imitate. We shouldn’t seek to be exalted, should we? We shouldn’t seek to have a name that is above every name, should we?

Of course not. But there’s still much in Christ’s thinking that we might—indeed must—imitate.

In the first post of this series I wrote, “Jesus did not humble himself in order to be exalted; he was already exalted, as verse 6 makes clear. He humbled himself, first, in obedience to the Father’s plan, and second, to rescue those he loved as his creatures in his image. The exaltation unavoidably followed.”

We can imitate him in those two areas:

  • We can make our first priority our obedience to the Father’s will; and
  • We can love and seek the benefit of those he loves, those who are in his image.

Are there specific ways to do that implied in this passage? I think so:

  • We can see Christ’s authority as good and right, as he himself did. That is the important first step to obeying him—which is to obey the Father, since Christ’s will is one with the Father’s.
  • We can see serving others as appropriate, even if they are “beneath” us. If Jesus can serve his people from his exalted place at the Father’s right hand, how can anyone be “beneath” us?
  • We can be devoted to his plan and purpose, as he is. We can live in the light of the biblical metanarrative, which is the essence of his plan:
    • We are God’s creatures, created for his glory and not our own.
    • We are fallen and in need of his constant help; we are not wise to trust ourselves implicitly.
    • We have been rescued from our fallenness and are thus both God’s servants and his sons and daughters.
    • We are destined for glory and perfect service, in the Father’s good time.
  • We can resist God’s defeated enemy as our enemy too, with confidence in his final defeat. We can live without fear.
  • We can trust Christ’s delay in coming. We can carry on with strength and anticipation of his good will for us.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, New Testament, Philippians, systematic theology

On Thinking Like Christ, Part 9: Coming Again

January 30, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Most Important Thing | Part 2: Moving to the Dump | Part 3: It Gets Worse | Part 4: And Worse | Part 5: Reversal | Part 6: Risen | Part 7: Ascended | Part 8: Enthroned

How can Christ’s exaltation get any more glorious than his being seated, enthroned, at the right hand of the Father in heaven, with seraphim crying “Holy!”?

I’d suggest that God is glorified in many ways, but he seems to receive particular glory in his keeping of his promises, his accomplishing of his plan.

Do you recall when he appeared in the burning bush in the wilderness? His words to Moses were, “I am the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (Ex 3.6). Why does he say that? Because, as Moses knew, God had made promises to those patriarchs, one of which was that Abraham’s offspring would inhabitant the land where he was then living in tents (Ge 15.18). As the bush burned, that promise had not been kept; Abraham’s descendants were in Egypt, and slaves at that.

God would not let that status continue. So he called Moses, and he empowered him to deliver the Israelites from Not Canaan and bring them to The Land.

He keeps his promises.

So back to our question. If Jesus is seated at the right hand of the Father, how can his glory be increased?

I’m sure there are many ways, most of which are beyond our ability to imagination. But one that I’m pretty certain of is that he can be further glorified by the completion of his plan, his purpose for creating the cosmos in the first place. He is glorified when he leaves no intention incomplete, no promise unfulfilled.

What has he promised that remains undone?

I’ll mention two significant things.

First, the evil one remains active and effective; the cosmos is wracked by sin and pain and death. Christ has defeated the Evil One at the cross, of course, but the battlefield still needs a lot of mopping up, clearing out of pockets of resistance, and final, crushing humiliation and defeat of The Enemy. Christ has already seen Satan fall from heaven (Lk 10.18), and as Luther said (auf Deutsch), “Lo, his doom is sure,” but we await the coup de grace.

That will come, and delay indicates not weakness but grace.

Second, the Son has yet to reign on the throne of his father David for a thousand years (Re 20.4-5), during which the nations will bring their treasures to Jerusalem (Hag 2.7) in order to worship the God of Israel.

Now, my theologian friends will realize from that last statement that I’m one of those “premillennialists” who reads prophecy as literally as possible. Some of them will undoubtedly disagree with me on that point. That’s OK. But I’m confident that they’ll agree with me on the first point.

So, I think, Christ’s glorious exaltation will be magnified and culminated when he comes, finally, to restore creation to its flawless original state, and maybe even better.

I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth judge and make war. 12 His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns; and he had a name written, that no man knew, but he himself. 13 And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is called The Word of God. 14 And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses, clothed in fine linen, white and clean. 15 And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite the nations: and he shall rule them with a rod of iron: and he treadeth the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God. 16 And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS (Re 19.11-16).

The exaltation of Christ is not yet complete. He will yet come in glory, and every eye shall see Him. He will lay waste to His enemy, that old serpent, the devil, and he will reign for ever and ever. Even so come, Lord Jesus.

Some final thoughts in the next post.

Part 10: Final Thoughts

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, New Testament, Philippians, systematic theology

On Thinking Like Christ, Part 8: Enthroned

January 26, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: The Most Important Thing | Part 2: Moving to the Dump | Part 3: It Gets Worse | Part 4: And Worse | Part 5: Reversal | Part 6: Risen | Part 7: Ascended

Seated at the right hand of the Father, in a position of infinite glory and authority, Christ—surprisingly—serves his people. He intercedes for us, we are told (He 7.25); he acts as our attorney before God’s throne (1J 2.1).

I wonder—why does he do that? The Father is propitiated, is he not (Ro 3.25; 1J 2.2, 4.10)? He’s not angry; the Son doesn’t have to hold him back from pouring out his wrath on us, because the Son himself has absorbed that wrath in our place. The Father looks on us with love, with grace, with shalom. When you, as his child, sin, he doesn’t regress to rage, as though you’re a stranger. He’s your Father, the most perfectly loving father you’ve ever had.

Further, the Father is omniscient; he doesn’t need the Son to remind him of his death on the cross and the consequent forgiveness of our sins and statement of our justification. He hasn’t forgotten, because he cannot forget.

So why the intercession? Why the presence of the attorney?

I think we should be tentative about our logical extrapolations from Scripture; we should recognize when the Scripture directly states things, and when it doesn’t. So my most precise answer to my own question is that I don’t know why.

But I suspect—and this is just a guess—that it’s a reflection of the fact that God is One. The persons of the Godhead are indeed distinct, and they do carry out different roles—theologians refer to that as “separability of operations”—but those separate operations are quite limited (typically confined to eternal generation for the Son and eternal procession for the Spirit—although those restrictions are speculative as well). The triunity of the Godhead does not contradict God’s essential unity. And I suspect that the visible presence of the Son at the Father’s throne, metaphorically pleading our case, is an expression of that unity. The Father and the Son are not at cross purposes; they act together to accomplish, recognize, and delight in our justification, our presence at the table.

In the end, we are one with the One God.

And so even in his exaltation, he ministers on our behalf.

Astonishing.

But he is, in fact, infinitely exalted. As the millions of angels sing around his throne, he is worthy—because he was slain (Re 5.11-12).

  • He is before all things, and by Him all things consist; He is worthy.
  • All things were created by Him, and for Him; He is worthy.
  • The government shall be upon his shoulder; He is worthy.
  • His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace; He is worthy.
  • He is the beloved Son, in whom the Father is well pleased; He is worthy.
  • He who knew no sin became sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him; He is worthy.
  • He has blotted out the handwriting of ordinances that was against us, nailing it to his cross; and having looted principalities and powers, he made a shew of them openly, triumphing over them in it; He is worthy.
  • He is our peace, who has made both Jews and Gentiles one, and has broken down the middle wall of partition between us; He is worthy.
  • He is declared to be the Son of God with power by the resurrection from the dead; He is worthy.
  • He is by the right hand of God exalted, and has shed forth his Spirit at Pentecost and in all the days since; He is worthy.
  • He is man; He is God; He is worthy.

Worthy is the Lamb to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.

Amen. Let it ever be so.

And still, there’s more.

Part 9: Coming Again | Part 10: Final Thoughts

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Christology, New Testament, Philippians, systematic theology

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