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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The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 6: Pray. Hard.

October 10, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day.

There’s one more element in Paul’s description of his spiritual walk that tells us volumes about his success as a believer.

In the last letter he wrote that’s been preserved, Paul is in prison in Rome. This is the second time for him. Last time, he was upbeat about his prospects—

  • In his letter to Philemon, likely written early in that 2-year imprisonment, he expects to prevail in his appeal to Caesar (Ac 25.10-11) and thus to be released; he tells Philemon to prepare him a place to stay when he comes to visit (Phm 1.22).
  • When he writes to the Philippians, likely toward the end of the imprisonment, he still expects to visit the church there in Philippi (Php 1.25; 2.24).

But this time is different. Rather than being under house arrest in rented, and relatively comfortable, residential quarters (Ac 28.30), Paul is now in a prison—traditionally the Mamartine prison, a dungeon—and is clearly not expecting to be released (2Ti 4.6-8). He is largely alone (2Ti 4.9-11) and in need of supplies (2Ti 4.13). He is settling his affairs (2Ti 4.14-15).

But he is not discouraged or depressed. He expects the Lord’s work on his behalf (2Ti 4.18) and eventual eternal reward, in the Lord’s timing (2Ti 4.8).

Victorious to the end, regardless of the challenging circumstances.

And in this context, in this epistle, in these circumstances, we find one more clue.

I thank God, whom I serve from my forefathers with pure conscience, that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day (2Ti 1.3).

He prays.

He communes with his Father, drawing spiritual strength to thrive in all those challenging circumstances, ones that would very likely do us in.

He’s really serious about this; he prays “without ceasing … night and day.”

I’d have trouble with that—especially the night part. In those times, I fall asleep.

I’m not the only one—right?

And I note something further here, something that sheds more light on his outlook.

He doesn’t speak of praying for himself; he asks others to do that (Co 4.3; 1Th 5.25; 2Th 3.1). He prays for others, for Timothy, his “dearly beloved son” in the faith (2Ti 1.2). Even in extremity, his thoughts, his concerns, are for others.

He follows his Lord’s example in this. Jesus prayed for long sessions (Mt 14.23), sometimes all night (Lk 6.12); and in his greatest extremity, he prayed for others, for those who believed in him (Jn 17.6-26).

This kind of prayer is hard work, both because it is lengthy and because it is on behalf of others. Paul describes such prayer—in this case the prayer offered by his coworker Epaphras—as “labor”—

Epaphras, who is one of you, a servant of Christ, saluteth you, always labouring fervently for you in prayers, that ye may stand perfect and complete in all the will of God (Co 4.12).

The Greek word rendered “laboring” here is agonizomai, which we all recognize as the etymological origin of our word agonize. It’s used of athletes in competition, on Game Day, who are leaving it all on the field (1Co 9.25). Specifically it’s used of boxers (1Ti 6.12, 2Ti 4.7). And more significantly, it’s used of soldiers (Jn 18.36), who are fighting for their lives.

We’re not often called up to fight like that. And we don’t often pray like that.

Paul prayed “without ceasing … night and day.”

This was not formal prayer, grace before dinner, after which someone at the table asks, “Did we pray?” It’s constant, mindful, effortful communication with God.

The Christian life is not easy for anyone; there are no “naturally gifted athletes” in the Christian race. It means rejecting your natural self and renewing the battle every day. It means staying in constant communication with “headquarters.” It’s a tough battle.

There are no Super Christians. There are just people who fight the battle every day.

Re-enlist.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 5: All In. Every Day.

October 6, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal

There’s another element in Paul’s spiritual life that we non-super Christians should seek to emulate.

Paul was into his relationship with Christ for the long haul, and he knew that reaching the end of that road meant staying on it every day, every mile.

He was all in.

That shouldn’t surprise us. Jesus made it clear that following him is no casual commitment. After he had fed the 5000 men and their families—something that brought out of the woodwork a whole lot of uncommitted hangers-on (Jn 6.22-66)—Jesus warned his disciples that hard times were coming, including official rejection and even execution (Lk 9.22), things that were not for the faint of heart. It was at this moment that he told them,

If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me (Lk 9.23).

Following Jesus means dying to self—that’s what “taking up a cross” means—and doing that every day. Commitment. Discipline. Reliability. Without fail.

This daily faithfulness is hard.

I teach an undergraduate systematic theology class that requires a lot of Bible memorization. I tell my students on the first day that I know they’re intimidated, but that pretty much anybody can do the memorization—but there’s only one way to do it, and cramming is not it.

Memorization requires Regular. Spaced. Repetition.

You go over the material every day. Doesn’t have to take long—just a few minutes—but it has to be every day. Over time, as you pull the material out of your brain at constant intervals, it becomes yours. In the end, it’s not really an intellectual or intelligence problem; it’s a character problem.

Every day.

When a student is doing significantly worse on his verse quizzes than the other material, I ask him to tell me how he’s studying for those quizzes. Are you doing what I told you on day one? Well, no, but I’m really busy.

Well, this is how cramming turns out. You have the time—just 5 minutes a day. But every day. It works.

Right now I’m memorizing lines for a play. I was hesitant to accept the role, frankly, because I’m 68, and the old brain ain’t what it used to be, and I’ve blanked out on stage before, and that’s a really unpleasant experience for me and all the other actors trying to work with me to present something intelligible and esthetically pleasing.

So I know I need to go over the lines. Every day. If I miss a day, I’ve set myself back more than just a day.

Thinking about that feeling of blanking out in front of an audience is a powerful incentive to be faithful.

Now, this play is a farce, and its long-term value is negligible.

How much more seriously should my students take the task of memorizing God’s Word in a way that will plant that theological database in their heads for the rest of their lives?

And how much more seriously even than that should Christ’s followers, all of them, take the daily task of taking up our cross and following him?

Jesus didn’t say this just once.

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. 27 And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple (Lk 14.26-27).

Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple (Lk 14.33).

No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God (Lk 9.62).

Nor did Paul.

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward [man] is renewed day by day (2Co 4.16).

I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me (Ga 2.20).

Reenter the battle. Every day. All in.

Follow Jesus.

Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal

October 3, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing | Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self

We’ve seen two characteristics of the spiritual life of Paul, who was not a super Christian, that led to his spiritual success. As we read his personal reflections, we find another, one that shouldn’t surprise us: he was going somewhere, and he knew where that was.

In his brief autobiography in Philippians 3, we find that Paul had accomplishments that many people would be proud of:

  • He had observant Jewish parents, who had him circumcised on the 8th day after his birth, in accordance with the Mosaic Law (Php 3.5; cf Le 12.1-3). He was “an eighth-day one,” as the Greek literally says. He was no late-blooming proselyte with wasted early years. From his very birth, he was in a God-fearing home, with both parents cooperating for his spiritual benefit. He had the most auspicious of beginnings.
  • He was “of the stock of Israel” (Php 3.5)—no Gentile blood in him. His people were God’s chosen, the ones God held close to his heart.
  • He was of the tribe of Benjamin (Php 3.5). He knew his ancestry, all the way back to the patriarchs. And he was related to Israel’s first king, the tall one, the one God’s people had chosen from among all their people. Indeed, he was most likely named for him. During the civil war following the death of King David, Benjamin was the only tribe to join with Judah on Rehoboam’s side (2Ch 11.1). He had an enviable pedigree.
  • He was “a Hebrew of the Hebrews” (Php 3.5). Commentators suggest a couple of things that this phrase might mean:
    • He was not a Hellenist, one open to the customs of the Greek culture that surrounded Israel; he was no compromiser. (I’m not inclined to this view; Paul seems familiar with Hellenistic thinking in his writing.)
    • He was able to read the Hebrew Scriptures in the original Hebrew—without vowels, which meant essentially memorizing the text—and to speak the related language of Aramaic; he didn’t need to read it in the Greek of the Septuagint. He had access to all the sources available, including the original Hebrew words of God himself.
  • He was a Pharisee (Php 3.5), the strictest of the Jewish sects, absolutely devoted to the keeping of the Law in the minutest detail. The Pharisees even tithed their herbs (Mt 23.23; Lk 11.42). No one was more pious than Saul and his friends. Indeed he was so zealous a Pharisee that he set out to arrest and kill the followers of the lunatic heretic Jesus, who had been executed as a criminal.
  • He was, by his own testimony, blameless before the Law (Php 3.6). That’s an astonishing claim; it had to involve endless washings, endless sacrifices, endless arduous journeys from Tarsus to Jerusalem, endless climbing to the Temple Mount to present his offering to the priest whose course was on duty that month. He was focused like a laser on the endless picayune requirements.

And then, in blinding flash of heavenly light, he abandoned it all (Php 3.7). He viewed it as sewage, reeking of corruption (Php 3.8).

What could possibly cause that kind of turnaround? What would it take for you, or me, to toss aside our most cherished goals and accomplishments?

For Paul, it was a vision of Christ (Ac 9.1-9).

Decades later, writing to the Philippian church, he speaks of “the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord” (Php 3.8)—that’s the same sentence where he speaks of his former accomplishments as sewage. A sentence or two later he says, “That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death” (Php 3.10).

Paul’s goal was to know Jesus. It drove everything else out of his mind and off his radar.

As he meditated on this idea, he realized that knowing Christ came with other infinitely valuable benefits—

  • Unity with Christ, being “in Him” (Php 3.9)
  • The righteousness that comes from God through faith (Php 3.9)
  • Having the kind of power that Christ displayed in his resurrection (Php 3.10)
  • Being like him (Php 3.10)
  • Being resurrected when the time comes (Php 3.11)
  • And the prize: the high calling of God in Christ Jesus (Php 3.14).

We live in a day when some of those who profess to follow Christ have much lower goals: personal recognition, or temporary political power, or rhetorical victory over those who disagree with them—who are, incidentally, the very people that their professed Master has sent them to reach.

What sewage.

We can know Christ.

Nothing else matters.

Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 2: Eternal Values

September 26, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: No Such Thing

Paul was no super Christian; that’s obvious from his descriptions of himself:

For I am the least of the apostles, that am not [fit] to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God (1Co 15.9).

O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death? (Ro 7.24).

[I am] less than the least of all saints (Ep 3.8).

Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I am chief (1Ti 1.15).

But throughout his epistles he scatters observations about his heart, his thinking, and his spiritual life—observations that help us understand how a person with a sinful nature can be as successful spiritually as he was. It’s worth taking a few posts to thumb through them and consider how they might help us even as they helped him.

I think it makes sense to begin with Paul’s autobiographical words in Philippians 3. He describes his spiritual condition before he met Jesus on the road to Damascus, and the picture is complicated. There’s a veneer of accomplishment and respectability, but there’s emptiness and corruption at the very core:

5 Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee; 6 Concerning zeal, persecuting the church; [as to] the righteousness which is in the law, blameless (Php 3.5-6).

By ordinary standards—and by that I mean according to the values of the average joe—Paul was highly successful. He was a local boy with a pedigree and respectable parents, who had followed the local customs at his birth, doing everything the right way. And as a young man he had excelled in his keeping of the Jewish traditions and Law, to the point where as an adult he was a member of an exclusive boys’ club, highly respected in the community.

He had it made.

But in the middle of that we find a problem: he was a persecutor of God’s people. Now according to the standards of the day, this only increased his respectability: he was so devoted to God that he set out to eradicate heretics, those who believed that the One True God had a Son, who had become man and—what absurdity!—actually died as a criminal.

These are people who ought to be persecuted.

But then, as we all know, Paul (Saul) met Jesus. Or rather, Jesus confronted him, identified himself with the very people he was persecuting, in the process both blinding him with his glory and opening his spiritual eyes to see Truth as the corrective to his twisted tradition.

Saul spent several days in physical darkness, with nothing to do but to think—to think about all the ways he had been wrong, about how everything he thought he knew was entirely backwards from the way things actually were.

A worldview upheaval.

And when Saul emerged from his darkness, he was a new man, with new values.

All those accomplishments? All that respectability?

“Those I counted loss,” he writes, “for Christ.” Indeed, “I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ” (Php 3.8).

“Dung” is the King James word. It means what it says. That’s how he thought of the culture’s values, its standards, its respect.

Waste.

Flush it.

In short, he got his priorities straight.

Like Moses, he reckoned the things this world values most deeply as essentially worthless, transitory, trivial.

He stopped devoting time to such things—which freed up a whole lot of time to devote to things of eternal worth, things like worship and ministry and mission and evangelism.

Like us, he didn’t stop sinning. But like Paul, we can excel at the things we devote ourselves to. And if we devote ourselves to the right things, we can make a difference and enjoy victory, even though we’re not super.

Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

The Myth of the Super Christian, Part 1: No Such Thing

September 22, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Most of us think that other Christians are having a better go of it than we are. We think that we are alone in our secret temptations—that other Christians don’t find the same difficulty resisting temptation that we do. In particular, we hold a few people in particularly high esteem; we think that they enjoy consistent and daily victory and fellowship with Christ at a level higher than we’re able to maintain.

Maybe it’s a pastor or youth pastor, or a teacher, or a coach. I thought of someone that way (he’s now with the Lord), and some years later he and I were members of the same church. Working more closely with him, I never found that he had feet of clay, but I also came to realize that if he had known that I thought of him as a “super Christian,” he’d have laughed incredulously.

Some theological positions promote the idea of super Christians. The holiness movement, for example, posits a “second blessing” in which the old nature is eradicated. Wesleyans prefer to call this concept “entire sanctification.” Charles Wesley was thinking of this when he wrote,

Love divine, all loves excelling, joy of heav’n, to earth come down;
Fix in us thy humble dwelling; all thy faithful mercies crown.
Jesus, thou art all compassion; pure, unbounded love thou art.
Visit us with thy salvation; enter ev’ry trembling heart.

Breathe, O breathe thy loving Spirit into ev’ry troubled breast.
Let us all in thee inherit; let us find the second rest.
Take away our bent to sinning; Alpha and Omega be.
End of faith, as its beginning, set our hearts at liberty.

Come, Almighty, to deliver; let us all thy life receive.
Suddenly return, and never, nevermore thy temples leave.
Thee we would be always blessing, serve thee as thy hosts above,
Pray, and praise thee without ceasing, glory in thy perfect love.

Finish, then, thy new creation; pure and spotless let us be.
Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in thee.
Changed from glory into glory, till in heav’n we take our place,
till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love and praise.

Interestingly, John Wesley never believed that he had attained “that second rest,” though he did think that a younger friend, John Fletcher, had. I’m not aware of any historical record of Fletcher telling anyone what he thought about that.

In Scripture, however, you don’t find that God’s people have experienced this. There are only two significant people in Scripture of whom God records no evil (Samuel and Daniel)—yet we know that they were sinners, for all of Adam’s descendants are (but One). And the greatest of God’s leaders, we find, had great struggles with their own sinfulness. Moses, for example, was kept from the promised land for disobedience. David lost his family and his kingdom because of his sexual sin. And even Paul recorded the darkness of his own heart:

18 For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. 21 So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. 22 For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, 23 but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. 24 Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? (Ro 7).

There are no super Christians. There are only wicked people who, by the grace of God, are regenerated through faith and then find and fulfill God’s plan for them. Interestingly, the Bible tells us enough about Paul’s spiritual life that we can learn how he did it, however imperfectly.

To be continued.

Part 2: Eternal Values | Part 3: Healthy Distrust of Self | Part 4: A Clear and Uncontested Goal | Part 5: All In. Every Day. | Part 6: Pray. Hard.

Photo by James on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: sanctification, soteriology, systematic theology

Church Has a Purpose, Part 5: The Short Range: Truth 

September 12, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: And It’s No Secret | Part 2: The Long Range | Part 3: The Short Range: Consistency | Part 4: The Short Range: Discernment

The first thing Paul tells the church to do in the short term, in order to reach maturity in Christ in the long term, is to stop being like a child in his inconsistency and naivete. The second thing comes in the first part of verse 15:

But speaking the truth in love …

Now, the Greek here is interesting. There’s no verbal “speaking”; the verb is rather simply the verbal form of the noun “truth.” We might translate it (woodenly) as “truthing.” “Speaking the truth” is not a bad translation—that’s ordinarily how one puts truth into action—but the word has a broader reference. We should be the truth; we should live the truth. We should be true to who (and whose) and what we are.

We should be true.

This in contrast to the childlikeness that Paul has just used to illustrate his point. Children are easily deceived; we shouldn’t be. Why is that? Because we know the truth; it governs our thinking and consequently our decisions and our actions.

We know that quarters don’t come out of our ears. We know that no one can know—without some kind of mischief—that we’re thinking of a grey elephant from Denmark.

And similarly, we know that discounting the value of the Scripture, or of the person or work of Christ, or of the legitimate unity of God’s people, does not come from those who are interested in God’s cause or our good.

We didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. This isn’t our first rodeo. We know better.

And why do we know better?

Because we know the Scripture, because we have pored over it and immersed our thoughts in it and rolled its truths over repeatedly in our minds, for the decades since he gave us spiritual life. And because we know Christ, both by that time and effort in the Scripture and by our daily walk and communion with him over those same decades.

I’ve been married for over 38 years. Each year I learn more about my wife, both because I’m a slow learner and because she has grown and changed since we began our life together. And now, approaching 4 decades of daily interaction, I know a lot about her. Because of that knowledge I don’t wonder what she’s going to think about this or that, or how she’s going to react to a given situation, or whether she’s likely to do something inappropriate.

I know her. And that answers a lot of questions even as it calms—or dismisses—a lot of potential fears.

If somebody tells me something about her that isn’t true, I’m pretty sure I’m not going to believe it.

Because I know her.

Now, I’ve known the Father, the Son, and the Spirit almost twice as long as I’ve known my wife. Shame on me if I fall for some lie about him, or some distortion of his motives or his ways. Shame on me if I start to believe that he isn’t good, or that his inaction demonstrates his inattention or his apathy.

And shame on us, his church, his people, if we find ourselves distracted by relatively trivial, temporary causes, or divided by temporary social or political issues, hating one another because of our support for this or that candidate or plebiscite or ballot initiative, or the color of our hats.

We need to see things as they are from the perspective of the one who lives forever and who has been working his great and gracious plan from before the world was.

We need to give our energies to that eternal plan.

We need to grow up.

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: church, Ephesians, New Testament, systematic theology

Church Has a Purpose, Part 4: The Short Range: Discernment 

September 8, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: And It’s No Secret | Part 2: The Long Range | Part 3: The Short Range: Consistency 

Children have another quality that we want them to outgrow.

Because of their comparative lack of experience, they can be naïve, credulous, gullible.

In a child, that’s endearing.

In an adult, it’s a flaw.

In the second half of our verse, Paul changes his metaphor to add depth to his illustration:

carried about … by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive (Ep 4.14b).

The KJV’s phrase “sleight of men” (NASB “trickery of men,” ESV “human cunning”) uses the Greek word kubeia. It’s where we get our word “cube.” It comes from the use of dice in gambling and the associated cheating, trickery, fraud.

Nobody likes to be taken advantage of.

But like it or not, there are bad actors out there, who are more than happy to lighten your wallet. And in the field of theology, there are fraudsters who would like to make merchandise of you. It’s pretty obvious these days that professing Christians are suckers for such fraudsters, from miracle prayer cloths on down.

Sometimes they’re not after your money; sometimes they’re after your soul. Maybe they want your following; maybe they just want you to think as they do. But they peddle their doctrinal and practical perversity, and they attack the church “by craft, with an evil plan [methodia] to deceive”—they scheme to trick us into believing a lie.

God’s people are supposed to be streetwise enough that they don’t fall for the doctrinal legerdemain. And where does “streetwisdom” come from?

It comes from knowledge of Christ. Knowledge about him, and knowledge of him.

Too many Christians are still falling for Satan’s simple tricks: materialism, broken marriages, pride of recognition and acceptance. These are old tricks—which means Satan’s good at them, because he’s had a lot of practice—but precisely because they’re old tricks, we should be well aware of them and see through them.

Fool me once, and all that.

I occasionally use a little trick on my students when we’re talking about divine election and foreordination. I tell them to think of any positive number. Literally any one, from the billions available. Then I tell them to multiply it by 9. Then add up the digits of the product, and if the sum is more than one digit, add the digits again, until they get a single digit. Then subtract 5. Then take that letter of the alphabet—1 is A, 2 is B, and so on.

You with me so far? Ok, now think of a country that starts with that letter.

Take the second letter of the name of the country, and think of an animal that starts with that letter.

Then think of a color that animal could be.

Then I ask how many students are thinking of a grey elephant from Denmark, and there’s an audible gasp in the room.

I’m a mind reader—no, a mind controller, you see.

Nope. And you math people know exactly how the trick works. It’s all based on the fact that they multiply their number by 9.

For any multiple of 9, the digits will add up to 9. In magic, that’s called a “force”; no matter what they do, you’ve forced them to a certain result. They subtract 5 from their 9, and they have 4. The letter of the alphabet is D.

Now, I’ve learned that this trick isn’t as reliable outside of the US and Europe. Westerners tend to pick the country of Denmark, which is what I’m counting on. There’s Djibouti, and the Dominican Republic, and Dominica, and the DRC, but Americans and Europeans are highly likely to pick Denmark.

So the second letter is E, and they’ll probably pick an elephant rather than an ermine or an eel or an eagle or an elk.

And elephants are grey. Or at least that’s what everybody thinks.

It’s simple probabilities.

Don’t fall for it.

There’s one more directive in this passage. We’ll talk about it next time.

Part 5: The Short Range: Truth

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Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: church, Ephesians, New Testament, systematic theology

Church Has a Purpose, Part 3: The Short Range: Consistency 

September 5, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: And It’s No Secret | Part 2: The Long Range 

God designed the church to grow—together—in unity and in the knowledge of Christ. What’s the process for doing that?

Paul gives us steps through which we work toward that goal. By using the term “steps,” I don’t mean to imply that they’re in series, so that we do the first one, and then, once we’ve accomplished it, we work on the second; rather, they’re presented in contrasted form: don’t do these things, but rather do this other thing instead.

I suppose I should start by acknowledging an unstated assumption here. I’ve assumed that the church hasn’t yet arrived at the long-range goal of unity in Christ. I suppose I could give evidences, but truthfully, I don’t know anyone who would argue that we’re fine just as we are. Both as individuals, and as a body, we’ve got issues. So I’ll just acknowledge that I haven’t proved that, and if anybody wants to argue otherwise, I’ll be happy to demonstrate it, after I’ve picked myself up off the floor.

So then. How do we make progress toward being what God has designed and equipped us to be?

For starters, Paul says, stop being children:

That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive (Ep 4.14).

Now, children are delightful. We all love their energy, their curiosity, their quickness to grasp new things, their fresh perspective on things.

Assuming, of course, said children are letting us get enough sleep.

We even have a word for those delightful qualities: childlikeness.

May there always be children.

But we don’t say, “Long live children”—because we want children to grow up; we want them to mature. We don’t want them to stay children, despite all our protestations that they grow up too fast.

Paul identifies a couple of specific ways that children, because they are immature and inexperienced, have negative qualities, things they need to outgrow.

First, they’re inconsistent, “tossed to and fro,” “carried about with every wind of doctrine.”

Wind can be a good thing. It can lift a 747, or more recently, an A380, right off the ground to “top the wind-swept heights with easy grace”; at a much more mundane level, it can help dry your laundry and save on your electric bill.

But it can also do a lot of damage. It can wipe out an entire town in 15 seconds. (In June 1998 I visited Spencer, SD, which a tornado had obliterated just like that a month earlier. The town was just gone.) It can topple a tree onto a car, killing everybody in it instantly. (That happened to a weather crew from a TV station here in Greenville a few years ago.)

You don’t play with dangerous wind.

And, Paul says, you don’t play with dangerous doctrine.

No need to be afraid—God leads his dear children along—but don’t be careless.

Ideas have consequences; doctrine matters. Existentialism brings self-centeredness and despair; polytheism brings confusion and fear; Jehovah’s Witnesses and members of the LDS Church belittle the person of Christ and thereby make themselves slaves to good works.

To press Paul’s illustration, little children can be tossed about despite their best determination to do right. I was, and I suspect you were too. Children are like that.

But we’re supposed to grow up.

Over the years I’ve known Christians, even pastors, who seem to be suckers for every doctrinal aberration that comes down the pike. I wonder if they’re constituted like the Athenians, who “spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell, or to hear some new thing” (Ac 17.21). The stuff they already know is boring to them; they want something new, something contrarian, something that will give them a buzz, something to get the adrenaline going, something to feed their love of conspiracy theories.

Something to catch their eye, to make them reach up from where they’re lying in their crib.

Nope. Paul says we need to mature out of that. We need to be stable in the things we already know, well founded, solid, standing firm against the winds of the day, able to provide support to one another in a storm.

As you might suspect, there’s more to come.

Part 4: The Short Range: Discernment | Part 5: The Short Range: Truth

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: church, Ephesians, New Testament, systematic theology

Church Has a Purpose, Part 2: The Long Range

September 1, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: And It’s No Secret

When you were learning to drive, you tended to focus on the road immediately in front of you—a tactic that made you basically a reactionary, jerking the wheel in response to whatever suddenly popped into your field of vision. As you gained experience, you began to look farther down the road, your peripheral vision taking in pretty much everything from here to the horizon. It’s much less jarring to make tiny corrections with long-range significance than to react to every little thing as if it’s a crisis.

So we start with the long view, the big map, with the little tiny star that says “You are here.”

That’s what Paul does in this passage.

Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ (Ep 4.13).

God’s goal for us as his people is that by the end of the story we will be grown up—mature. That’s what “perfect” here means.

Mature in what?

In unity.

We need to be united, inseparable, fiercely attached to one another, a band of brothers.

What’s the basis of our unity? Some people are united by their love for motorcycles, or quilts, or cocker spaniels, or Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.

We’re united by our faith, and by our knowledge of the Son of God.

That statement needs some clarification, some delimitation.

In the Bible the term “the faith,” with the article, refers not so much to the fact that we believe as to the content of what we believe. To put it more bluntly, it refers to doctrine.

Isn’t that interesting. In Paul’s mind, doctrine isn’t something that divides. It’s something that unites. Because we believe the same things, we are pulled together and become inseparable.

I should note that this doesn’t mean that we agree on everything. The Scripture elsewhere urges each one to “be fully persuaded in his own mind” while extending grace to those with other convictions (Ro 14.5). No, “the faith” is the most important stuff, the doctrines that define Christianity, beginning with the gospel, which is “of first importance” (I Co 15.3-5).

That’s reinforced by the next phrase, “the knowledge of the Son of God.” The doctrines that are most central, our unifying principles, are those that have to do with the Son—who he is (person), what he is like (attributes), what he has done (work). It’s a truism that the easiest way to spot a false teacher is to ask him who he thinks Jesus is.

But I think Paul is saying more here than just that our Christology has to be right.

The word translated “knowledge” is epignosis, with a prepositional prefix that functions as an intensifier. Greek lexicons often render this word as “full knowledge,” “true knowledge,” “recognition.” I’d suggest that it means what we mean when we say, “Now I get it!”

A look at some other biblical passages that use the word reinforces this idea—

  • Through the Law comes the knowledge of sin (Ro 3.20).
  • They have a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge (Ro 10.2).
  • … with knowledge and all discernment (Php 1.9)
  • That you may be filled with the knowledge of his will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding (Co 1.9)
  • Ever learning, and never coming to the knowledge of the truth (2Ti 3.7).
  • … the full knowledge of everything that is in us for the sake of Christ (Phm 6)

So what is “unity of the knowledge of the Son of God”?

I’d suggest that when people know who Christ is, through his revelation of himself through the Word, and when through that knowledge they come to know him as Creator, Savior, Lord, Shepherd, Friend, they’re going to be drawn together into a unity that simply cannot be compromised.

And then they grow, united, as a single body, to a spiritual stature that is appropriate for the size of its head, who is Christ (Ep 1.22-23).

Now, how do we get there?

Paul has some very practical observations about that, which we’ll get to in the next post.

Part 3: The Short Range: Consistency | Part 4: The Short Range: Discernment | Part 5: The Short Range: Truth

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: church, Ephesians, New Testament, systematic theology

Church Has a Purpose, Part 1: And It’s No Secret

August 29, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Experts tell us that we can’t be productive or successful without goals. We should write down our daily, weekly, monthly, and annual goals, and check them off when they’re completed. We should constantly re-evaluate our goals to be sure that they match our priorities.

Makes sense. I make lists and check things off every day, and it works pretty well for me.

The principle works for organizations as well as individuals. My employer, an educational institution, has goals that they communicate constantly to the faculty, the staff, and the students. Right now, at the beginning of the school year, we’re in the season where a few chapel sessions are devoted to informing the new folks, and reminding everybody, of our institutional purpose, past, and plans.

We shouldn’t be surprised, then, that God has goals for his people. He’s communicated them repeatedly throughout history, even though it sometimes appeared that hardly anybody was listening. In the current slice of history, when the people of God bear the moniker of “church,” he has plans for us too—especially corporately.

In Ephesians 4, among other places, God gives His goals for the church. Church isn’t just something we go to as spectators, a place where we meet people and perform rituals. It’s a living organization with a specific mission. In this passage God lays out the goals for the organization of which He is chief executive officer.

He begins by noting that we can’t succeed without help—particularly his gifting (Ep 4.7). And that gifting, perhaps surprisingly, isn’t supernatural abilities or tricks. It’s people.

Here Paul lists 4 or 5 kinds of people—there are other lists in other places, specifically Romans 12, 1Corinthians 12, and 1Peter 4, as I’ve noted earlier. This list includes apostles, prophets, evangelists, and pastors and teachers (Ep 4.11). They have a job to do: to mature the believers to do the work of service and consequently build up the body of Christ (Ep 4.12)—the church (Ep 1.22-23).

So the church is a body-building enterprise; it’s there to bring people together so that they can build one another up into maturity.

And what, specifically, does it mean to be mature?

For the church, it’s not the color of its hair (assuming it has some), or its height, or its musculature. Paul lays out the specifics in verses 13 through 16. These verses lay out God’s goals for the church.

Why do you go to church? (And what does “go to church” even mean if the church is a fellowship of believers and not a building?)

If you go to church with no purpose, no plan, no goal, but just because that’s what you always do on Sunday mornings, then how likely is it that you’ll play a part in helping the institution accomplish its purpose?

How do you feel about someone who’s working on a group project with you and who isn’t pulling his share of the load?

We hear any number of people complaining about this church or that one.

I wonder what they’re doing to help.

I wonder if they’re focused on a specific goal, and if so, if their goal is the right one.

In this passage Paul is going to describe both the long-term and the short-term goals for the church—my church, your church and all the others—as well as some specific ways we can pursue those goals.

It might be good for us to spend some mental effort thinking through what he has to say.

Next time.

Part 2: The Long Range | Part 3: The Short Range: Consistency | Part 4: The Short Range: Discernment | Part 5: The Short Range: Truth

Photo by Nagesh Badu on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: church, Ephesians, New Testament, systematic theology

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