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 Discipline, Part 5: Mentors 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence | Part 4: Thought 

One more item in Paul’s list of areas we should give attention to and discipline: 

Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you (Php 4.9). 

He encourages the believers in Philippi—a church that he planted—to imitate his example, to follow his practices. These days we call such a person a mentor, and those who imitate him proteges. 

Some people might find this surprising. Isn’t this arrogant of Paul—especially since Christ is the only perfect example? 

Good point. And as it happens, Paul says that himself elsewhere: 

Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ (1Co 11.1). 

He’s clearly not placing his value as an example above that of Christ. 

I’ll note that Paul’s exhortation here indicates that he has been careful to set the kind of example that the Philippians should follow. He’s been helped in that, certainly by the fact that he’s an apostle, guided by the Spirit into all truth (Jn 16.13).  

Slight sidetrack: Many interpreters would apply Jn 16.13 to all believers. I don’t, because I know that I’m not guided into all truth, and as I tell my students, I have written documentation in a file cabinet in my office that they are not guided into all truth either. I think this is a promise to the apostles that they would be inerrant in their reporting of Jesus’ life and teachings—their proclamation of the gospel. This of course would come to us through the New Testament. But since only three men in the room in John 16 wrote any New Testament, I’m also inclined to believe that the rest of the apostles, though not sinless (Ga 2.11), were inerrant in their preaching—which makes Luke’s description of the Bereans all the more remarkable (Ac 17.11; but cf 1Th 2.13). 

But to return. 

Paul here encourages the Philippians to imitate his example. 

Might this exhortation have broader significance? Should we, two millennia after Paul’s death, imitate him too? It occurs to me that we’ll have a harder time doing so, since we can’t see Paul’s example in his day-to-day life, as the Philippians did. But there are certainly a good many things we can know about him, and those things we can imitate. 

But to go a step further. Can we take Paul’s words as a general endorsement of the concept of mentorship? There are a good many Christian books on discipleship that do just that, and I don’t see a reason to disagree with them. Paul’s teaching on spiritual gifts seems to imply strongly that all believers should sit under gifted teachers and should live exemplary lives before their church assemblies. 

So, I would suggest, we can all benefit from following the examples of exemplary believers. (The apparent redundancy there is intentional and is not actually redundant.) And Paul’s words here in verse 9 indicate that we should be careful whom we choose. 

I suppose it could go without saying that we should choose as models those who follow Christ well, consistently, carefully, graciously. We should choose them not because they’re popular, or good-looking, or socially adept. We should recognize something of the character of Christ in them and then seek to integrate that character trait into our own thinking and lifestyle. We should ask them questions, and we should listen to the answers. 

I suppose it’s worthwhile to insert a caution here. 

You and I are not called to be anybody else. God has made us all different, and he has gifted us to serve in ways that are the sum of our DNA, our upbringing, our experiences, our sanctification, and yes, our gifting. I’ve known Christians who want desperately to be just like somebody they admire, and those efforts always end in disappointment. We’re called to be ourselves, remade in the image of Christ. 

But we ought to follow examples, carefully chosen, in our lifelong journey to be like Christ. 

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On Discipline, Part 4: Thought 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action | Part 3: Dependence 

The next area of discipline in Paul’s list is likely the toughest one for many people. 

 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things (Php 4.8). 

Here Paul calls for mental discipline: controlling what you think about. 

This is tough. 

We’re not used to that in our culture, and in recent years it’s only getting more difficult. We naturally tend to think about whatever pops into our head. Most often those things pop in from our daily circumstances—conversations, assigned tasks, and so on. Many of those things we don’t control; they just show up, and we think about them. 

But with the rise of social media, we’re being conditioned against mental discipline. Social media posts scroll by, and we think about them for 5 or 10 seconds, and we move on. We’re passive consumers of mental stimulation; it’s all up to the algorithms, and our thoughtful choices have nothing to do with what’s being poured into our brain bucket. There’s no discipline or self-control whatsoever; it’s just random dopamine hits. 

Yikes. 

But it gets worse. Neurological research indicates that the more we engage in this kind of media surfing, the less thinking we’re able to do; our brain rewires itself for “fast-twitch” thinking rather than long-form consideration of more complex ideas. If a paragraph consists of more than 9 or 10 lines, we’re not going to consume it thoughtfully; eventually we’ll just skip it altogether. (How many of the issues that we deal with in modern society can we think through in 5 or 10 seconds? We’re being conditioned against wisdom.) 

For more information on this concept, I highly recommend Nicholas Carr’s The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. He brings serious research to the question. 

In this pervasively “fast-twitch” environment, we’re going to find it harder than ever to follow Paul’s admonition. In a culture where many people have no mental discipline, directing your thought anywhere in particular, let alone to specific areas, is going to seem strange and foreign. 

I’d suggest some practical things: 

  • Read, regularly and repeatedly. Of course, believers should read their Bibles as their primary source of spiritual nutrition. But any long-form reading will strengthen your mental discipline. (And no, the closed captions on movies are not long-form reading.) 
  • Memorize Scripture. Memorization requires repeated review (I have a system, and I hope you do too), which will enable you to bring to mind biblical content whenever you have some mental free time—while driving, walking, standing in line, and so on. 
  • Approach casual conversations thoughtfully. Sure, small talk has its place; but if your conversations at church are all about football or politics, they could use some discipline. Direct conversations to substantial things. “How can I pray for you?” is one way to start. 
  • Use “down time” thoughtfully. While you’re waiting to fall asleep at night, direct your thoughts. 

Paul includes here a list of things to think about. I’m not sure detailed word studies on each term are what he’s after; the list could be more of a random collection of examples than a to-do list. I doubt that once you’ve thought about his list of 8 things, he’d say you’re done. Think about anything excellent; think about anything praiseworthy. Think on purpose. 

Again, this is hard. We like to let our thoughts go wherever they take us. But they do take us places, and while “the power of positive thinking” isn’t a magical formula for personal success—“if you can believe it, you can achieve it!”—the way we think does make a difference in the progress and outcome of our living. It certainly makes a difference in our spiritual success, our sanctification. 

Think on these things. 

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On Discipline, Part 3: Dependence 

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Part 1: Perspective | Part 2: Action

Paul now turns to a third area where we need discipline:

6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus (Php 4.6-7).

People come in all varieties. Some are pretty self-confident; they think they can deal with whatever comes down the pike. Don’t need any help, thanks. I got this.

But if the truth be known, even those people worry. They think about how they’re going to deal with this issue or that, and even though they don’t want to ask anybody else for help, they still spend time on the mental merry-go-round, trying to figure out the next step.

And for others, it’s even more difficult. Worry becomes anxiety, and fear dominates their thinking.

This is the human condition.

And if we humans are merely the peak of evolutionary development, with no one higher to look to, then we’re doomed to a lifetime of anxiety.

But we’re not, and we’re not.

There is a higher throne. And Paul points us there.

Don’t worry about anything, he says.

What? Don’t worry about where the rent’s coming from? About progressive degenerative disease? About broken relationships? About societal ills? About nuclear holocaust?

That’s just crazy.

No, my friend. It’s crazy only if we’re all there is.

But there is a God, and he is infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth. And further, he loves us, and he invites us to bring our anxieties to him and leave them there.

He can provide the rent money, and grace to face the physical ravages of time, and relational healing, and societal peace. And he can prevent nuclear holocaust, in his good will.

Bring your requests.

I note that Paul returns to his earlier theme of thanksgiving, or rejoicing. How can we be thankful even as we recount our troubles at the throne?

Because God hears, and he responds, and always in a way that is good and wise, wiser even than the “solutions” we can suggest to him. Beyond all that we can ask or think.

Paul follows his imperative with a promise. If we’ll do what he says, then God will bring peace to our troubled hearts—peace, he says, that surpasses all understanding.

I used to think that that meant that it’s so wonderful that we can’t understand it. But I don’t think that’s it. It surpasses understanding; when our understanding has taken us as far as it can, and it runs out of gas, the peace of God takes over and keeps us going, as far as we need to go. We find that we don’t need to know it all, to understand everything that God is doing. We know him, we trust him, and we just keep going.

Paul adds one last thought. This peace he says, is not passive; it’s active. And the verb he chooses is instructive: it guards our hearts and minds. You know, that place where the anxiety comes from? The wellspring of all our fears? The peace of God stands as a sentinel at the door, muscular and armed, and it denies entry to the dangerous stuff.

So we have a choice.

We can give in to the anxiety, trying to work things out for ourselves, despite the fact that there are all kinds of things that we don’t know and can’t do.

Or we can trust the sentinel standing outside the door of our hearts, as we work diligently and wisely during the day and sleep well at night.

That shouldn’t be a difficult decision.

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On Discipline, Part 2: Action 

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Part 1: Perspective 

Here in Philippians 4, we’re surveying a list of areas that we ought to discipline as we live out our faith in Christ. In the previous post, we noted that we should discipline our perspective to be joyful, rejoicing in whatever comes our way (Php 4.4). We turn now to the second Item in Paul’s list. 

 Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand (Php 4.5). 

You may know that the KJV renders the key word “moderation.” There’s great breadth in the various reliable versions: “gentle spirit” (NASB), “graciousness” (CSB), “gentleness” (NIV). The standard Greek lexicon (BDAG) suggests “yielding, gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant.” I think we get the idea. There seems to be general idea of others-centeredness, of unselfishness, of lesser concern with one’s own rights than for the rights or needs—or even desires—of others. 

Paul says this characteristic of ours should “be known to everyone.” How does that happen? Well, practically speaking, it can happen only when this is our default—whatever we do, in whatever circumstances, with whatever kinds of people, we’re gentle, kind, courteous, tolerant. This is just the way we always act. 

That’s a tough order. It’s easy for most of us to be kind and cordial with people we like, or those who are first kind to us. But the situation is very different when someone is rude, or hostile, or childish, or self-centered. It is not my inclination, or yours, to be kind or courteous in those situations. 

How often do we see that kind of spirit in operation in our culture? How often, rather, do we see some people mocking those they disagree with—“libtards” or “snowflakes” or “RINOs” or “MAGAs”? How often do we ourselves engage in that kind of mocking and ridicule? 

Oh, but in my case it’s justified, you see, because that idiot deserved it, because he was rude to me first, or he’s a tool of the deep state, or he’s a threat to democracy. Or he’s just stupid.

Oh, no, my friend. Let your gentle default mode of action be known to everyone. There are no riders or qualifiers there. 

Let me suggest that our current polarized culture presents us with a rare opportunity to have our calm, gentle, kindness stand out from the angry, pugilistic, chaotic background of polarization and rage. When everyone is running to and fro, the one who’s sitting calmly amidst the chaos reading a book stands out; he’s impossible to miss. And in our culture the simplest act of kindness, the slightest evidence of care and attention, screams louder than all the surrounding noise. 

What a way to make a difference. What a way to be an ambassador. 

Paul’s seals the importance of this discipline with a terse observation: “The Lord is near.” 

To what is he referring here? 

The word near here is a common word, one that can refer to either time or space. 

  • Is he saying that the Lord is spatially near, as in omnipresent? “O be careful little mouth what you say”? 
  • Or that he is temporally near: coming back soon? “O, can we say we are ready, brother”? 

In his epistles Paul uses the word in both senses (Ep 2.13; Ro 13.11). In Jesus’ teaching he tends to use the word temporally, mostly because he’s frequently teaching about the nearness of his Coming. But when he says, “The Kingdom of God is at hand,” is it possible that he means to imply both? 

I don’t see a reason to restrict the word here to either sense; either or both can serve as motivation for us to do better at this.  

  • The Lord is indeed near us, both as a deterrent to sin and as a source of power for victory. In ourselves we cannot live this way consistently, but our God is near to us. 
  • The Lord is indeed coming soon, to deliver us from all the frustrations that so vex us now. That means that as vexing as these confrontations are, they are temporary; and knowing that can relieve us of much of the pressure to collapse. 

Live out grace, kindness, courtesy. By default. To everybody—especially to the really challenging everybodies. 

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On Discipline, Part 1: Perspective 

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No, I’m not referring to child-rearing, but to how we discipline ourselves. It’s a truism that if you aim at nothing, you’ll certainly hit it. Pretty much everybody understands that you have to set goals, and then persist in pursuing them, in order to accomplish anything worthwhile. 

There’s a whole industry of advisors, people who are happy to coach you on making the best of life—whether on the secular side or on the spiritual. Reading these works discerningly and thoughtfully can be highly profitable. 

More reliably, though, the Scripture addresses this topic extensively. A series of blog posts is not the place for a comprehensive survey of the biblical theology of personal discipline, but it’s reasonable to focus on a single passage that concentrates on the idea. 

I find such a passage in Philippians 4. It’s a concise presentation, and a familiar one; many Christians have memorized the passage, or at least parts of it. In verses 4-9, I find a list of five aspects of our lifestyle—what the King James translators called “conversation”—that we ought to discipline in certain ways. Lord willing, I’ll devote a post to each of the five. 

The section opens with Paul’s goal for his (and our) perspective: 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice (Php 4.4). 

Our view of things, he says, should be consistently joyful. 

Several things to note about that. 

First, this is Paul writing. He has not had an easy life; as he has already noted in this short epistle, he has sacrificed early professional success to follow Jesus (Php 3.4-11), and a few years earlier he has listed for the church in Corinth a litany of hardship (2Co 11.23-29). Even as he writes these words, he is under house arrest in Rome, waiting for a hearing before Caesar that threatens capital punishment. He is not speaking platitudes. 

Second, he is writing to Philippi, a church founded out of a night in prison, an earthquake, and government opposition (Ac 16.13-40). He is about to say that this church has already given sacrificially to support his ministry from a distance (Php 4.16). There is nothing flippant or casual about what he is asking them to do. 

Rejoice, he says. No, I really mean it, he repeats. 

And furthermore, rejoice all the time. 

Rejoice in the good times; rejoice in the bad. Rejoice in success; rejoice in failure. 

Rejoice in house arrest. Rejoice in the inner prison. 

Interestingly, Paul lives that out. He has already written here that his arrest has yielded good things (Php 1.12-14), and he will go on to say that there are now saints in Caesar’s household (Php 4.22)—though we don’t know whether they became saints as a direct result of his appeal to Caesar. 

Now for the fifty-dollar question—how does he do it? How does Paul rejoice in the midst of suffering and injustice greater than you (probably) or I have ever experienced? And by extension, how are we to “rejoice … always”? 

The ellipsis provides the answer: “rejoice in the Lord always.” 

There’s a lot packed into that tiny prepositional phrase. 

What does it mean to “rejoice in the Lord”? 

At its purest, it means simply to rejoice in God himself—who he is, and what he does. Meditation on him brings great delight. 

But God knows that we are dust, and he understands that we are consistently motivated by self-interest. He graciously works benefits to us, in which we can then rejoice. The blessings of salvation are profitable topics for meditation, as are answers to prayer. (Sidebar: if you don’t pray much, or at all, you’re depriving yourself of the joy that comes from seeing prayers answered.) The confidence that comes from following his will, even through valleys (Ps 23.4), is reason to rejoice. It’s a great gift to know that, really, everything’s going to be OK, and the hard times will eventuate in great good. 

So our first step of discipline, according to this passage, is in our perspective: we discipline ourselves to see all things as causes for rejoicing. 

This is life-changing. 

More next time. 

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On Thinking Like Christ, Part 10: Final Thoughts

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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.

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On Thinking Like Christ, Part 9: Coming Again

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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

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On Thinking Like Christ, Part 8: Enthroned

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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

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On Thinking Like Christ, Part 7: Ascended

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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

The exaltation continues.

For forty days and nights the risen Christ walks among His disciples, collecting witnesses to His resurrected glory (1Co 15.5-7). Then, Luke writes, “while they beheld, he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight” (Acts 1:9).

He was taken up. This is a fitting end to His earthly ministry. Surrounded by those He loved to the uttermost (Jn 13.1), He is lifted up from among them to take His place as the glorified Son of God.

His great humiliation comes to an end. He is not left in the garbage dump of earth, to rub shoulders with sinful mankind and suffer the revulsion of sin forever.

The New Testament writers see this moment as a significant event, a major development beyond what the resurrection has already declared. Paul tells Timothy that Jesus—whom, according to a significant manuscript tradition, he calls “God” (1Ti 3.16)—was “received up into glory.” It’s interesting to me that before the ascension, the resurrected Jesus doesn’t appear to exhibit any visible “glory”: at the empty tomb, Mary thinks he’s the gardener (Jn 20.15), and the two disciples on the Emmaus road think he’s just some guy walking in the same direction—and not a very attentive one at that (Lk 24.18), and the disciples on the boat take a minute to recognize the man tending the fire on the beach (Jn 21.7). But with the Ascension, the Son is glorified; his status visibly changes, not only by virtue of his physical ascension—that’s obviously not an ordinary phenomenon—but apparently in his appearance as well.

Peter likewise recalls for his readers the fact that Jesus “is gone into heaven” (1P 3.22) and notes the close association of that event with his reception of cosmic authority.

Which brings us to the immediate subsequent of the Ascension.

Repeatedly the New Testament writers connect the Ascension with the Session, or the fact that on his arrival in the heavenly dimension, the Son took a seat at the right hand of the Father (Ro 8.34; Ep 1.20; Co 3.1). I think the most elegant statement of this concept comes from someone whose name we don’t even know, the anonymous author of Hebrews:

1 God, who at sundry times and in divers manners spake in time past unto the fathers by the prophets, 2 Hath in these last days spoken unto us by his Son, whom he hath appointed heir of all things, by whom also he made the worlds; 3 Who being the brightness of his glory, and the express image of his person, and upholding all things by the word of his power, when he had by himself purged our sins, sat down on the right hand of the Majesty on high; 4 Being made so much better than the angels, as he hath by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they (He 1.1-4).

That act—sitting down in the presence, and indeed on the right hand, of the Father—is the most impressive and astonishing event in this whole series.

No subject sits in the presence of majesty. Refusing to rise for the king will get an earthly subject’s head removed. How much more an offense it is to sit in the presence of the Majesty on high.

Yet Christ does sit, and it is no offense. He is not subject to His Majesty; He is His Majesty.

He has completed His great work—“It is finished,” he cried on the cross—and now, in an ultimate act of exaltation, He sits down in the presence of the Majesty on high.

There is much more yet to say. We have departed somewhat from our initial text in Philippians 2, and Paul there tells us more about this phase of Christ’s ministry. And the next one.

We continue in the next post.

Part 8: Enthroned | Part 9: Coming Again | Part 10: Final Thoughts

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

On Thinking Like Christ, Part 6: Risen

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

And now begins the Father’s work in making visible—making obvious—all that had been implied in those earlier prophecies and private events.

The body of the executed “blasphemer” and “seditionist” has been removed from the cross and placed in a borrowed tomb—a really nice one, apparently, but one that gives no hint of what is about to happen. The corpse has not been sufficiently prepared for burial after the Jewish custom, because the preparations have been hurried and then interrupted by the arrival of the Sabbath rest.

His followers return dejectedly to their homes, wondering what has happened, and how, and what could possibly be next.

The cosmos waits.

And very few know, when it happens early Sunday morning, about the earthquake and the rolling away of the stone, opening the view to the interior of the tomb, and thus revealing that there’s nothing there.

The body is gone and unaccounted for—but there is an unearthly presence (Mt 28.2-4).

The sentries collapse, and probably later hightail it to headquarters and begin to make arrangements to protect themselves from the execution that should certainly come for their dereliction of duty.

And as daylight slowly rises, a small group of women comes to the tomb to finish the burial procedure, to wrap the body in fabric strips that hold in place the spices that will delay decomposition and disguise the inevitable odor.

They are surprised that the stone has been moved, and the sentries are apparently nowhere to be seen. But the unearthly one says to them, “Don’t be afraid. I know you’re looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here, for he is risen, as he predicted. Come in, and see where the body was.”

Apparently a few seconds later, he continues, “Now go, and tell his disciples that he is resurrected. He’s going into Galilee and will meet you there, I promise.”

Some of those who insist on disbelieving the obvious have an interesting theory here. They have devised the “wrong tomb” theory. The poor ladies, they say, were too upset by the emotions of the preceding days to understand what was being said to them. “He is not here,” they were told; “You have come to the wrong tomb. Come over here, and see the place where he is really buried.”

I do not understand why this theory isn’t roundly condemned for the sexist, misogynistic assertion that it is. A theological conservative would be laughed off the stage for suggesting such a thing.

You know how women are. Emotional, hysterical. Can’t follow directions, and all that.

Silly women? No. Silly scholars. The angel’s words are clear and unmistakable. He was crucified; He is risen. You shall see Him.

Death could not keep its prey, Jesus my Savior;
He tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord.
Up from the grave He arose
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes;
He arose a victor from the vast domain,
And He lives forever with His saints to reign.
He arose; He arose; Hallelujah, Christ arose!

Paul tells us that “had the princes of this world known” what was happening at Calvary, “they would not have crucified the Lord of glory” (I Co 2:8). They thought to destroy their Great Enemy; instead they destroyed themselves. They were no match for the Lord of Glory, even at His lowest point.

He is risen.

But the exaltation has just begun.

Next time.

Part 7: Ascended | Part 8: Enthroned | Part 9: Coming Again | Part 10: Final Thoughts

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash