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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Simple Faith, Simple Grace, Part 2: The Way

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Part 1: The Basics

In the previous post we let Paul define the gospel:

  • Christ died for our sins,
    • Certainly.
  • And he rose again,
    • Certainly.
  • And all this was planned.

Simple enough.

Now, what does this have to do with us? Why is it gospel—good news? To us?

This death, Paul tells us, was “for our sins” (1Co 15.3). It was about us—about dealing with the problem we ourselves had caused. We’ve sinned—broken the cosmos, including ourselves—and we’re now in deep trouble—

  • We’re defective models of the original design, so we’ll never work right (Ro 3.23).
  • And we’ve broken the world we live in, so it will never work right, either (Ro 8.22).

As the wisest man who ever lived once wrote, this is a recipe for frustration (Ec 1.14).

But it gets worse.

Since sin violates God’s nature, he’s justly angry with us, and the relationship we were designed to have with him is impossible. We cannot love and serve him—now or forever.

Deep trouble, indeed.

But, as Paul has told us, God himself—the angry party—has taken action to solve our problem (Ro 5.8). In the person of Christ, God the Son, he has paid “for our sins.”

That’s really good news.

All this raises another question, of course.

How do we appropriate Christ’s work for us? What causes his death to be applied to the debt of our sins?

There are several places in the Scripture where the answer is given. In many of those places someone asks that very question upon hearing of Christ’s death, and the responses are strikingly similar and simple—

  • 37 Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, “Brothers, what should we do?” 38 Peter said to them, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. 39 For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him” (Ac 2.37-39).
  • “19 Repent therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out, 20 so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord” (Ac 3.19-20).
  • “43 All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name” (Ac 10.43).
  • “38 Let it be known to you therefore, my brothers, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you; 39 by this Jesus everyone who believes is set free from all those sins from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses” (Ac 13.38-39).
  • “30 Then he brought them outside and said, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ 31 They answered, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household’ ” (Ac 16.30-31).
  • “4 Paul said, ‘John baptized with the baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus’ “ (Ac 19.4).

And in other passages we’re told that people responded to the gospel in specific ways that were effective:

  • “12 But when they believed Philip, who was proclaiming the good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women” (Ac 8.12).
  • “12 When the proconsul saw what had happened, he believed, for he was astonished at the teaching about the Lord” (Ac 13.12).
  • “12 Many of them therefore believed, including not a few Greek women and men of high standing” (Ac 17.12).

So what’s called for in our response to this good news?

  • Repent
  • Believe

Repentance is turning from your sin. Faith is turning to Christ. They’re both one action, the action of turning. You say, “I don’t want my sin anymore; I want Christ instead.” And in your mind, your heart, you turn.

We call that turn conversion. One simple act.

Simple faith. Simple grace.

There’s much more to be said, ironically, about the simplicity of the gospel. More next time.

Part 3: Keeping It Simple | Part 4: Working It Out | Part 5: Keeping It Going

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On Jesus’ Baptism—and Our Incompetent Repentance

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We all know the story of Jesus’ baptism by John in the Jordan. We know that God chose this event to reveal publicly his approval of Jesus as “My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Mt 3.18). We know that this event is one of the clearest exhibitions of the Trinity in the Scripture, with the Father speaking from heaven, the Son standing in the Jordan, and the Spirit descending like a dove and landing on the Son.

But as familiar as this story is to us, we find ourselves still wondering, with John, why Jesus came to John to be baptized. As John protested, “You should be baptizing me!” Was this just Jesus’ way of announcing the onset of his public ministry? And if so, what did Jesus mean when he said, “This is necessary for us to fulfill all righteousness”?

There’s been a lot of ink spilled by writers of commentaries over these questions. When that happens, it usually means that the Scripture itself doesn’t give a clear answer to them. And when that happens, the systematic theologians step in and offer speculation—ideally, well founded and scripturally based.

I’d like to do that here.

To begin with, we should notice what John intended his baptism to mean. He called it “a baptism of repentance” (Lk 3.3; Mt 3.11); by agreeing to be baptized, people were acknowledging their sins and turning from them (Lk 3.10ff). And this makes the image of Jesus’ baptism all the more odd—and John’s objection to it all the more sensible—since Jesus had nothing to repent of.

Which brings us to our second consideration—Jesus’ statement of his own purpose in being baptized: “to fulfill all righteousness.”

What does that mean?

Perhaps we should consider his words against the larger theological significance of his incarnation. He came, of course, to die for the sins of mankind (Mk 10.45). But in order to get to that point, he had to present himself as a spotless lamb; he had to demonstrate his own sinlessness through a perfect life, the perfect fulfillment of the Law, thereby putting in place a righteousness that could be reckoned to our account (2Co 5.21). Theologians call this his “active obedience.”

That done, he offered himself up, dying on the cross in our place—vicariously—paying our sin debt and putting us into position to receive his righteousness, also earned vicariously.

He lived in our place, and he died in our place. He fulfilled all righteousness for us.

Hmmm.

That’s what he said to John, back at the baptism—remember?

The baptism was necessary, he said, “to fulfill all righteousness.”

The baptism of repentance.

Which he didn’t need. Because he didn’t need to repent.

What if—what if—he repented for us?

We’re terrible at repenting, you know.

We tell God we’re sorry, and we’ll never do it again.

And we’re not lying. We mean it.

But we do do it again, don’t we?

In spite of all our good intentions, and in spite of all we can do, we break the most important vow we ever make to God.

We can’t even repent right.

We’re miserable failures.

What if, at his baptism, Jesus offered the Father a repentance that was worthy of the name?

What if he repented—and never went back on his promise?

And what if that perfect repentance was offered to the Father—for us?

In our place!

“Let me do this,” Jesus said to John.

“It’s necessary to fulfill all righteousness.”

If I don’t do this, nobody else ever will. My Father will never get a decent repentance. I’ll do it for him. And for them.

And over the next 3 years, the Father received a repentance, and a life of obedience, and a sacrificial payment for sin, that were all perfect. In our name, and credited to our account.

Perfect. For us.

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Does God Repent, or Doesn’t He? Part 3: The Point

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Part 1: The Question | Part 2: Toward an Answer

If God’s omniscience and immutability rule out a change of mind, then why does the Scripture relate incidents in which he “repents”? I’ve suggested that the biblical authors are using literary devices to demonstrate important points about God—theological points. If you’ll run down the list of those incidents, you should be able to state the point that the author is making in each case—

  • Genesis 6.6: In the face of God’s grace and mercy in placing mankind into a world where everything he really needs is free, and in freely forgiving his sin, the pervasive evil and rebellion of mankind against God and against other human images of God is so grievous that the all-powerful and all-knowing Creator regrets that he ever made humans. Human evil is astonishingly wicked, and that wickedness is astonishingly hurtful to the Creator.
  • Exodus 32.14: After God has chosen a specific family to be his own, and has promised them a land in which they can live in perpetuity, and has heard their cries for deliverance from an evil taskmaster, and has brought them safely and miraculously out of bondage and rendered the taskmaster incapable of pursuing them by destroying the mightiest military force on the planet, and after they have sworn to do all that he has asked of them, they have violated their oath and turned on the very source of all the good that they have. This is the Genesis event exponentiated; human evil is astonishingly wicked, and that wickedness is astonishingly hurtful to the Creator—indeed, to their Father. But the core lesson is that in the face of all of this, intercession works. God hears the prayers of his people. He loves them as intensely as their sin grieves him.
  • Judges 2.18: God is deeply moved by the suffering of his people—so moved that he intervenes repeatedly to stop the pain, knowing that they will repeatedly defy him as soon as the pain stops. God loves his people deeply and faithfully, in ways that they do not love him.
  • 1Samuel 15.11, 35: When the people wanted a king—for all the wrong reasons (1S 8.19-22)—even though God had promised that in his time they would have one (Gn 49.10), God gave them the king they wanted. Yet the king persistently resisted the will of God and the words of his prophet. After a long pattern of disobedience and, frankly, insanity, Saul essentially refuses to lead the people who have asked for his leadership, and God rejects him—as, in fact, he always had. When God’s people insist on their will instead of his, it not only damages them, but it hurts their loving Provider.
  • 2Samuel 24.16: Even when judgment is deserved, a loving God is pained by it, and he will not let it continue beyond hope.
  • Isaiah 38.5: I think of this one as similar to Abraham’s “sacrifice” of Isaac in Genesis 22. God is not planning for Hezekiah to die: his heir has not yet been born (2Chr 33.1), and God has promised the continuance of the line. Here God is stretching Hezekiah’s faith, giving him—and us—an opportunity for a more intimate look at the love God has for him.
  • Jonah 3.10: God unfailingly responds to repentance, no matter the intensity and depth of the sin involved—and in this case, despite the fact that he has no covenantal relationship with the ones repenting.
  • Amos 7.3, 6: See under 2Samuel 24.16. God’s love and empathy for his people is the counterbalance to his justice and the judgment that it requires.

So what do all these verses about God’s repenting teach us?

Two things.

First, he’s wise, and his plans always come to pass. He never loses. We can trust in the ultimate success of his plans. He’s great.

And second, he loves us and listens to us, and he is moved to action on our behalf. Our prayers matter; go ahead and ask. He’s good.

Great. And good.

There is none like him.

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Does God Repent, or Doesn’t He? Part 2: Toward an Answer

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Part 1: The Question

What do we make of the fact that the Bible says both that God repents and that he doesn’t?

I think the key to what’s going on here comes from the passage about God’s rejection of King Saul. I don’t know whether you noticed this in the previous post, but this event appears in both the list of statements that God doesn’t repent and the list of examples of his repenting.

In other words, the passage says both that God doesn’t repent and that he does.

Now, this should catch our attention. The writer of Samuel directly contradicts himself in the same brief account; 1Sa 15.11 says that God has repented (and verses 23 and 26 repeat the idea with a different verb), while verse 29 says that he doesn’t repent.

Either the writer of Samuel is a moron—or has a moronic editor—or he did this intentionally, meaning he’s up to something, literarily. Which is it?

Well, we can tell from the rest of the book that he’s not a moron. He writes well. (Yes, I’m omitting for the moment the obvious factor of inspiration.)

We have a similar phenomenon over in Proverbs 26.4-5, where Solomon the Wise says that we should not answer a fool according to his folly, and then immediately says that we should.

Is Solomon a moron too? The wisest man who ever lived? Or did someone later entrusted with compiling the wise man’s proverbs not measure up to the job?

Or is something else going on?

I think the situation in Proverbs is clear. Solomon is toying with the idea, rolling the nuances around in his mind, after the manner of wisdom literature. Sometimes you answer a fool; sometimes you don’t. Now, says the wise man, let’s think about which is when.

With that example in mind, I think what’s happening in Samuel is reasonably clear. Saul is so evil that God regrets ever making him king. Out he goes. Reconsider? No. Why? God doesn’t change his mind.

This is a literary device, I would suggest, in a couple of ways. First, it’s irony—God’s changing his mind about Saul’s office, and he won’t reconsider, because he doesn’t change his mind (!). But there’s something much bigger going on here. As in the Proverbs example, in all these passages God is forcing us to keep a couple of competing ideas in our heads at the same time.

Competing Idea #1: God is transcendent, omniscient, and perfect. There is no Plan B, because unlike us he doesn’t need one. He knows the present (Gen 20.6); he knows the future (Is 44.28); he even knows contingencies, or “what would happen if …” (1S 23.10-14).

This makes him sound distant. But that’s not all there is to him.

Competing Idea #2: God is personal; he has a mind, and a will, and emotions. He is moved by our pleas; he is near and loving and caring (Ps 103.13). He is moved to action by our cries for help.

Both of these things are true of the same person. Is this a contradiction?

No, it’s not. It’s a round character.

God is infinite, and our minds are finite. He’s not going to fit into a box the size of our skulls.

Is this a theological problem? Does the atheist have a point?

I don’t think so. Here’s why.

If the atheist is right—if “God” is just a character we have invented—then we would have invented one we could understand and explain. We certainly wouldn’t have invented one who occasionally embarrasses us in front of our friends.

But if there is a God, then by definition he’s infinite. And since we’re not, we would expect that on occasion he would roam beyond the horizon of our understanding. What’s happening here is precisely what we would expect if God is real.

Next time: So what’s the point?—what we learn from all those times he repented.

Part 3: The Point

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Does God Repent, or Doesn’t He? Part 1: The Question

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In my previous post I meditated a bit on the prophets’ repeated description of God as “one who relents concerning calamity” (Jonah 4.2). And as I noted at the time, that assertion introduces what appears to be a significant theological problem.

The Scripture says repeatedly that God does not repent:

  • The hired prophet Balaam, forced by the Spirit of God to speak the truth, refuses to curse Israel and blesses them instead—and he gives the reason: God is not a man, that he should lie, nor a son of man, that he should repent; has he said, and will he not do it? Or has he spoken, and will he not make it good? (Num 23.19). If God has said he would bless Israel, then he will, and nothing Balaam can say will change that.
  • When Samuel tells Saul that God has removed him from the throne of Israel, he locks the door with these words: The Glory of Israel will not lie or change his mind; for he is not a man that he should change his mind (1S 15.29).
  • Through Ezekiel’s vision of a boiling pot, God promises to make Nebuchadnezzar’s siege of Jerusalem successful—and he adds, I the Lord have spoken; it is coming, and I will act. I will not relent, and I will not pity, and I will not be sorry (Ezk 24.14).
  • In his last words to Israel before the Great Silence between the Testaments, God promises, I will draw near to you for judgment; … for I the Lord do not change (Mal 3.5-6).

Note that these passages come from both the Law and the Prophets (Former and Latter) in the Hebrew canon. The idea is pervasive. And it continues into the New Testament as well:

  • Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow (Jam 1.17).

It’s pretty clear that this is part of God’s character; it’s who he is. Oh, perhaps an interpreter could argue that in the Ezekiel passage God is describing just the current situation and not a general tendency, but the other passages make it clear that this is a character trait. God doesn’t change his mind; he doesn’t repent.

But.

In several passages in Jeremiah, he says that he does repent.

  • If that nation against which I have spoken turns from its evil, I will relent concerning the calamity I planned to bring on it (Jer 18.8).
  • Perhaps they will listen and everyone will turn from his evil way, that I may repent of the calamity which I am planning to do to them because of the evil of their deeds (Jer 26.3).
  • Now therefore amend your ways and your deeds and obey the voice of the Lord your God; and the Lord will change His mind about the misfortune which He has pronounced against you (Jer 26.13).
  • If you will indeed stay in this land, then I will build you up and not tear you down, and I will plant you and not uproot you; for I will relent concerning the calamity that I have inflicted on you (Jer 42.10).

Two more prophetic passages, Joel 2.13 and Jonah 4.2, repeat the idea as part of the series of descriptions of God’s character that we’ve just finished examining here.             

And on several occasions God is specifically said to have repented:

  • When he sent the flood to destroy the life he had created on earth (Gn 6.6)
  • When Moses talked him out of destroying Israel in the wilderness (Ex 32.14)
  • Multiple times during the period of the judges (Jdg 2.18)
  • When King Saul refused to obey him (1S 15.11, 35)
  • When the Angel of YHWH was massacring the people of Jerusalem after David’s census (2S 24.16; 1Chr 21.15)
  • When King Hezekiah pled for more years of life (Is 38.5; Jer 26.19)
  • When Nineveh repented (Jonah 3.10)
  • In two of Amos’s visions (Am 7.3, 6)

Critics cite these passages as examples of a contradiction in the Bible.

So are they? Does the Scripture contradict itself here?

We’ll do some careful reading and analysis next time. Don’t make any life-changing decisions before then.

Part 2: Toward an Answer | Part 3: The Point

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The Gifts of Salvation, Part 3: Repentance

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Introduction
Our relationship to sin:  Conviction / Repentance / Regeneration / Forgiveness / Redemption / Justification
Our relationship to God:
Before conversion: Election / Drawing / Faith
At conversion: Reconciliation / Positional sanctification / Adoption / Union with Christ / Spirit Baptism / Sealing / Indwelling / Assurance
After conversion: Progressive sanctification / Filling / Glorification
Conclusion

With the kind help of the Holy Spirit, we sinners—declared, dug-in, smug, and satisfied enemies of God—have begun to see our sin differently—realistically—and to see our evil master, the man behind the curtain, as he really is. We have begun to feel conviction about our sin as the light comes on in our heads, by God’s grace and the Spirit’s tender attentiveness.

And what happens next?

Something we never would have expected.

Our attitude toward our sin changes. To our surprise, we don’t like it anymore.

How does that happen? It’s true that conviction and illumination have given us both a factual and an emotional basis to see our sin differently, but we’re deeply invested in it. It’s literally part of our nature; it’s who we are. We’ve been sinning since we were born, and maybe longer (Ps 51.5); babies can lie before they can talk. With that much experience, we’re really good at the evil we do. We hide it expertly, thinking carefully through how we’ll keep it hidden even from those closest to us. And we justify it with astonishing sophistry. That guy over there is reprehensible when he does what I’m doing, of course, but I’m different; in this case it’s OK, because of this or that or the other.

We’re good at sin, we’re heavily invested in it, and we’re not inclined to give it up, even when we don’t like the consequences it brings—damaged relationships, lost opportunities, lack of freedom in our choices.

So why, all of a sudden, do we start disliking it?

Again, it’s the gracious work of God, who is Truth, helping us to see the truth. Conviction and illumination aren’t just natural regrets or disappointments; they are works of the Spirit, divinely and thus infinitely empowered, and they are simply overpowering.

And in the blazing clarity of that heavenly light, our thinking changes, because God gives us the ability to think differently about our sin.

There’s a place in the Bible that talks about that. Peter has been divinely sent to present the gospel to the first Gentile to seek to believe. His name is Cornelius; he’s a Roman centurion (Ac 10.1; think of a “company commander” in the modern Army), and he’s been attending a Jewish synagogue in his town of Joppa for some time (Ac 10.2; a “God-fearer” was a Gentile considering converting to Judaism). After God appears to him in a vision and tells him that Peter can give him the information he needs to know Him (Ac 10.3-6), he sends for Peter, who has similarly been prepared by a vision (Ac 10.9-20). Peter preaches the gospel to Cornelius’s household, and before he has even finished his sermon, a second Pentecost breaks out (Ac 10.44). Peter draws the obvious conclusion that apparently Gentiles can believe on Christ (Ac 10.47-48). And then he reports back to the church at Jerusalem, where the Jewish Christians respond with these words:

“Well then, God has granted to the Gentiles also the repentance that leads to life” (Ac 11.18).

Repentance, apparently, is something that God “grants.” Paul says later that it is something that God “gives” (2Ti 2.25). Interestingly, there are both Calvinists and Arminians who agree on this point. When you repented of your sin, that action was something that a kind and gracious God was enabling you to do.

What is repentance, exactly?

Well, most simply, it’s turning away from your sin. Your thinking or attitude changes: what you had regarded as your friend and constant life companion you now see as an enemy.

But repentance goes beyond that. More than just your thinking changes. Because “from [the heart] flow the springs of life” (Prov 4.23), because “as [someone] thinks in his heart, so is he” (Prov 23.7), your thinking has an effect on your actions: you begin to live differently. Repentance is a change of thinking, yes, but it leads inevitably to a change of lifestyle (Ezk 14.6; Mt 3.8; Ac 26.20).

Having said that, though, I should note that turning from your sin doesn’t mean that you have to stop sinning altogether. God doesn’t expect you to stop sinning before you can come to him for salvation (Eph 2.8-9), and he doesn’t expect you to stop sinning in order to “stay saved” (Rom 7.14ff; IJn 1.9). He’ll help you with your ongoing sin problem as you walk with him through life—but more on that in a later post.

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On the Unpardonable Sin

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Recently Tim Challies posted some thoughts on the question of the unpardonable sin. I’d like to extend his remarks a bit.

Most Christians have read the passages that raise this question. The unbelieving Pharisees, trying desperately to discount the power of Jesus’ miracles, have accused him of casting out demons by the power of Satan (Mt 12.22-32; Mk 3.22-30; Lk 12.8-10). Jesus responds by saying,

Every sin and blasphemy will be forgiven people, but the blasphemy against the Spirit will not be forgiven. 32 And whoever speaks a word against the Son of Man will be forgiven, but whoever speaks against the Holy Spirit will not be forgiven, either in this age or in the age to come (Mt 12.31-32).

So what’s he talking about?

The first thing I notice is that when you look at the commentaries, they don’t seem to know—at least, not with any certainty. There are several interpretations:

  • Taking the context very narrowly, Jesus is simply saying that if you lived at the time of Jesus, and you ascribed his miracles to demonic power, then you wouldn’t be forgiven. So this is a sin that nobody today can commit, because Jesus is no longer walking around on earth doing miracles.
  • A variation on that view is that you can still commit that sin today; if you say that Christ did his miracles by the power of Satan, then you’ve committed the unpardonable sin. This view, or the previous one, appears to be the position that Challies takes in his post.
  • Some suggest that the unpardonable sin is hardening one’s heart to the degree that the Spirit’s convicting call is no longer heard. This, it is suggested, is where the Pharisees now found themselves. So the problem is not so much a particular sin, but the persistence in sin that hardens the heart over time, making the sinner, in effect, spiritually deaf.
  • Others say that the unpardonable sin is effectively your last one; it is dying without having repented. In this view, everyone in hell has committed the unpardonable sin.

Well, this is a conundrum. We’re not even sure what it is.

I’ll tell you what it isn’t.

It isn’t that God has designated a certain sin as unforgiveable, and boy, you’d better not commit that one, and by the way, when I tell you about it, I’m going to make the definition of the sin really unclear, just to keep you on your toes.

That view seems to me to be blasphemous.

Here’s what we do know.

  • We do know that God delights in repentance and never turns any repentant sinner away, no matter what he’s done.
  • We do know that conviction of sin, and sorrow for sin, are works of the Holy Spirit, and those works are not frustrated.

So if you’re worried that you might have committed the unforgiveable sin, stop the fear and the hesitation and run to the Father, whose arms are open wide to welcome you into his family and to his dinner table. There is forgiveness for all who come. There has been forgiveness for even me. There is certainly forgiveness for you.

But here’s what else we know.

We know that if you harden your heart against the gentle pleading of the Spirit, the day will come when time runs out. It may be at the end of a long period of terminal illness, during which you have plenty of time to think about what’s ahead. Or it may come in an instant, with a vise-grip pain in your chest, or a flash of light in your brain, or the sudden sound of a horn and a screech of tires on pavement.

And when time runs out, there will be no repenting then.

It is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment (Heb 9.27).

So enough of idle speculation about this or that obscure passage. Why test the limits, when repentance—hearing the convicting voice of the Spirit—is the obvious solution to the great problem of sin?

Why play such a deadly game?

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