theology proper

On God As Husband, Part 3

March 20, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Hosea’s experience with his wife Gomer is not just an ancient story with an obvious moral: marry someone with the character to be loyal. This is a story that began because God commanded it, with a command contrary to all common sense: “Marry a woman who will not be faithful” (Hos 1.2).

Unlike pretty much everyone else in the story, Hosea does what God tells him to—thereby condemning himself to a miserable marital relationship.

Why would God command such a thing?

God exercises flawless teaching technique, and he often uses educational methods that have proven over centuries to be highly effective. For example, he has Ezekiel repeatedly act out scenes for the exiled Jews in Babylon (Ezk 4.1-8, 9-17; 5.1-4; 12.3-7, 17-20). Here he’s going to use a case study, implemented experientially, so its lessons will hit close to home and be both highly impactful and long remembered.

Hosea is going to be a character, the lead character, in a morality play. And, astonishingly, he’s going to play the part of God, at God’s request. A command performance, if you will. What actor would take on such a role, and at such real personal sacrifice?

Hosea’s marriage represents God’s marital relationship with Israel. He entered into a covenant with them at Sinai, a covenant most thoroughly expressed in the book of Deuteronomy, which Moses wrote down and delivered to the people just before they entered into the land that God had promised to them. He had made promises to them, great and precious promises, and they had responded with a corporate shout, “All that the Lord has spoken we will do!” (Ex 19.8). But from almost that very day the people had turned away and demonstrated a shallow view of the marriage and a lackadaisical commitment to it.

Now, centuries later, their pattern of infidelity has been consistent. Through the shocking infidelity of Gomer, Hosea’s wife, God illustrates the many ways his people have broken his heart.

Let me count the ways.

She has worshiped other gods (Hos 2.8, 13), which God calls “other lovers.” Idolatry, seen clearly, is spiritual adultery, even prostitution (Ezk 16.33). From its first days as a nation under Jeroboam I, the northern kingdom of Israel had worshiped at shrines—golden calves—in Bethel and Dan (the southern and northern regions of their land) (1K 12.25-33). King Ahab married the Canaanite princess Jezebel and then built a shrine to Baal in Samaria (1K 16.29-33). The astonishing thing is that Baal, the Canaanite god, was the supposed protector and prosperer of the Canaanites, whom Joshua’s army had defeated in battle. How does it make sense to worship the gods of the people you’ve just defeated?! This is not only faithless, but it’s just, well, stupid.

She has failed in her obligation to know the Law and its Lord. She is not practicing the attributes of God—truthfulness, faithfulness, kindness (Hos 4.1). She is not loving her neighbor. She has no interest in knowing what the Law teaches about God, let alone practicing it in daily life. She has rejected the Covenant.

She is turning to other champions—her own military leaders, and alliances with other nations such as Assyria and Egypt—for her strength and security (Hos 1.7).

She is practicing social Darwinism, with the powerful and connected taking advantage of—abusing—the weak, the poor. “There is swearing, lying, murder, stealing, and committing adultery; they break all bounds, and bloodshed follows bloodshed” (Hos 4.2).

So they have broken, and continue to break, the two great commandments: to love God, and to love your neighbor. Over centuries. Despite national commitment and promise to treasure the special relationship that God has granted them.

How does God respond to this?

He speaks with anticipation of the day when he will woo her back to himself (Hos 2.14-23), when his unfaithful wife will call him “my husband” and not just “my lord” (Hos 2.16). He speaks of “steadfast covenant love” (hesed) in his relationship with her (Hos 2.19). He still loves her and wants her back.

And as we shall see, Hosea will act out that role perfectly.

Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

On God As Husband, Part 2

March 16, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1

Chapters 1 and 2 of Hosea tell us about his marriage relationship, which is, to say the least, pathological. God tells Hosea, “Go and marry a woman of promiscuity, and have children of promiscuity” (Hos 1.2).

Now, right away we have an interpretational problem. Did God tell Hosea to marry a prostitute? The difficulty we have with that prospect has led to a host of suggested interpretations—

Some have suggested that the command was not literal. John Calvin and Carl Friedrich Keil, both noted commentators, hold this view. Perhaps she was an idol worshiper; God frequently calls idol worship spiritual adultery. But this still seems objectionable; why would a prophet of God marry an idol worshiper?
Perhaps she wasn’t promiscuous before they married but became promiscuous later. The New Bible Commentary makes this suggestion, as do others.
But maybe the text means what it says; she was promiscuous, even a prostitute, before her marriage. This is the view of the New American Commentary and many others. It certainly illustrated Israel’s history accurately; she was sinful when God executed His covenant with her. And there was no lack of such women in Israel (Hos 4.14). Perhaps she was a Baal cult prostitute, a pagan practice designed to encourage the gods to grant the land fertility. It was against the Mosaic Law for priests to marry any woman who was not a virgin, but there’s no indication that Hosea was a priest.

I would suggest that attempts to soften the situation miss the point. As will become clear, Gomer’s sin represents Israel’s sin and by extension our own, which is heinous, brutal, and sociopathic. We were sinners when God found us, and that’s the whole point!

In the normal course of events, this marriage yields children, beginning in the very next verse.

The first child is a boy. God instructs Hosea to name him Jezreel, for the valley where Jehu had judged Ahab’s idolatrous line in the past (2K 10.1-11) and where God will carry out judgment (Hos 1.3-5).

The second child is a girl, whom God instructs Hosea to name Lo-Ruhamah, or “no mercy.” This is a clear prophecy of the coming judgment; God is no longer extending mercy to his unfaithful wife. In his paraphrase of the passage, Eugene Peterson renders God’s statement as “I’m fed up with Israel.”

This is astonishing. God is longsuffering, patient. Can the patience of an infinite God be exhausted? Has he broken his covenant promises to Abraham? to David?

No, he hasn’t. In the next sentence (Hos 1.7) he contrasts his judgment on Israel, the Northern Kingdom, with his mercy toward Judah, the Southern Kingdom. Judah is where the sons of David rule—and while they’re a mixed bunch in terms of their obedience to God, his mercy continues there. For now.

Hosea’s wife has one more child, a son. Again God himself names the boy: Lo-Ammi, or “Not my people.” I don’t know, maybe Hosea wasn’t confident of the boy’s paternity?

And with this name, God makes explicit what was only implied by the daughter’s name: Israel is no longer God’s people; the covenant is reversed.

Now it’s horrific.

But again, in the very next sentence God assures these idolaters that the reversal, the judgment, is only temporary:

¹⁰ Yet the number of the children of Israel shall be like the sand of the sea, which cannot be measured or numbered. And in the place where it was said to them, “You are not my people,” it shall be said to them, “Children of the living God.” ¹¹And the children of Judah and the children of Israel shall be gathered together, and they shall appoint for themselves one head. And they shall go up from the land, for great shall be the day of Jezreel (Hos 1.10-11).

Verse 10 in particular should sound familiar to us, as it undoubtedly did to Israel. This is the wording of the Abrahamic Covenant itself (Ge 22.17)—which was unconditional. God’s patience is not in fact exhausted.

In the end, God is faithful, even when his people are not.

In the next chapter Hosea is going to make explicit the spiritual lessons of his troubled marriage.

On God As Husband, Part 1

March 13, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In the previous series we’ve looked at one of the facets, or metaphors, of our relationship with God: he is our Father. It seems appropriate now to turn to another metaphor, that of husband.

This relationship is commonly acknowledged among Christians, but there is surprisingly little biblical information about it. I suppose most people think first of Ephesians 5.22-33, where husbands are instructed to love their wives in the same way that Christ loves the church. This passage is the text for the pastor’s charge in pretty much every wedding ever performed. I’ve been convinced by a colleague, however, that this passage is commonly misinterpreted. Dr. Gary Reimers, a longtime friend and professor at BJU Seminary, has observed that the husbands are instructed “to love their wives as their own bodies” (Ep 5.28)—and since this same epistle notes that the church is Christ’s body (Ep 1.22-23), then to love “as their own bodies” is to love like Christ (Ep 5.25). So I don’t view this passage as primarily presenting Christ under the metaphor of husband.

That leaves just two other New Testament passages that speak of Christ having a bride. The more well-known of those, I suppose, is Revelation 21, which speaks of “the bride, the Lamb’s wife” (Re 21.9). Earlier John has heard an announcement of the pending “marriage of the Lamb” (Re 19.7), at which his wife is dressed in “fine linen [which] is the righteousness of the saints” (Re 19.8). Now he sees “the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband” (Re 21.2). But here the bride is said to be not the church, but the New Jerusalem, which I would say includes the church but is more than that.

The other passage, less well known, is 2Corinthians 11.2, where Paul tells the Corinthian church that he has “espoused you to one husband, that I may present you as a chaste virgin to Christ.” But that stops short of saying that the universal church is the bride of Christ, although I think it’s safe to assume that by extension from the passage.

So I think there’s little to no clear biblical evidence for the statement that “the church is the bride of Christ.”

But in the Hebrew Scriptures God regularly describes himself as the husband of his people. And since the Old Testament saints will be in the New Jerusalem as certainly as we, I think we can legitimately apply what God says there to our relationship with him as children of Abraham by faith (Ga 3.7).

Several OT passages speak to this relationship. Isaiah 54.5 mentions it, and Ezekiel 16 speaks very directly of Israel’s idolatry as sin against God her husband. But I suppose that the most concentrated and well-developed description of this relationship is in the prophecy of Hosea.

Hosea writes during the reign of Jeroboam II (Hos 1.1), in the waning days of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. You can read about the culture of Israel at this time in 2Kings 17. It’s not a pretty picture. One commentator writes, “This is a period when Israel is prosperous, proud and pagan—and thoughts of God and judgment seems ridiculous.”[1] Hosea writes to explain the reasons for the Assyrian judgment (e.g. Hos 12.8) and, perhaps surprisingly, to give hope for the future (e.g. Hos 13.14; 14.4-9).

Much of Hosea’s prophecy follows the standard outline of the Old Testament prophets:

Israel’s sin (chapters 4-7)
Coming judgment (chapters 8-10)
Future restoration (chapters 11-14)

But the book begins with an illustration from Hosea’s marriage, a metaphor for God’s relationship with his people. Hosea’s marriage is not typical (!), but it tells us much about our relationship to God as our Husband. 1Peter 2.10 applies the names of Hosea’s children to the church, as does Paul in Romans 9.22-26 (note “not from the Jews only, but also from the Gentiles,” Ro 9.24).

So let’s glean what we can from this remarkable story of a failed and restored relationship.

More next time.

[1] Andrew Knowles, The Bible Guide (Minneapolis: Augsburg), 353.

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On God as Our Father, Part 5: Accountability

March 9, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s an act of supreme love.

Even the necessary occasional chastening.

The Scripture affirms this repeatedly:

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

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

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

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

So.

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

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On God as Our Father, Part 4: Oversight

March 6, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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

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

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

A good Dad pays attention.

God is like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What are the chances?

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

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

They took the check.

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

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

You bet he does.

Part 5: Accountability

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On God as Our Father, Part 3: Provision

March 2, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction | Part 2: Likeness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He makes the point again in the next chapter—

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

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

That’s what fathers do.

Part 4: Oversight | Part 5: Accountability

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On God as Our Father, Part 2: Likeness

February 27, 2023 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Introduction

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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On God as Our Father, Part 1: Introduction

February 23, 2023 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s much more to follow.

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

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Unstable World, Stable God, Part 9: Confidence

December 15, 2022 by Dan Olinger

There’s another way we benefit because God doesn’t change.

Back before my Dad was saved—even before he was a Dad—a door-to-door salesman came by. When Dad answered his knock, the salesman had a large glass kitchen mixing bowl in each hand, and, without saying a word, he bashed them together vigorously. They didn’t break.

Dad bought a set.

That evening a bunch of his siblings came over, and they were playing cards and drinking beer, and generally behaving as they did in those days. As the evening went on, and Dad—in his own estimation—began thinking more creatively, he remembered those unbreakable bowls and thought he’d entertain the group with a demonstration. Without saying anything to anyone, he got up, went into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl in each hand, swept into the doorway, and cried, “Hey, everybody! Look at this!”

He bashed the two bowls together, and they shattered into a million pieces.

The fact that none of the spectators knew that the bowls weren’t supposed to break just adds to the magnificence of the scene.

Do you think my Dad got a refund for those bowls?

That salesman was long gone.

Years later, my Dad told me, “Buy from Sears. They’ll always be there if you have a problem with what you bought.”

Well, as it turns out, Dad was wrong about Sears too, but the principle is sound.

Deal with people who won’t disappear when you need them.

Now, the story’s ridiculous, and I considered not using it in this context. But I think it makes the point in a memorable way.

The counsel of the Lord stands forever,
the plans of his heart to all generations (Ps 33.11).

God doesn’t change.

And because he doesn’t change,

he will always be there;
his attitude toward you will always be steady;
his promises will always be kept;
his Word will always be true;
and his plans for you will certainly be fulfilled.

Now, what’s the only natural response to that kind of faithfulness?

Confidence.

It’s the infinite, perfect analog to the confidence of a man who’s worked for the same people at the same company for 40 years, or a man who’s been married to the same woman for 50.

It’s the settled state of knowing that this relationship is good, and that it will last—that things will be as they should be, now and forever.

The Hebrew Bible calls that concept shalom—“peace.”

In his first epistle, the Apostle John talks a lot about confidence, or knowing, or having assurance. Many commentators have noted that he bases our confidence on a tripod of factors:

obedience (1J 2.3)
love (1J 3.14)
the witness of the Spirit (1J 3.24).

All of those are things that God works in us—and he works those things in us because he is unchanging in his love for us, his forgiveness of us, and his promises to us.

In June 1944, the Allied armies began their assault on Hitler’s “Fortress Europe” by getting boots on the ground at the beaches of Normandy. “D-Day,” they called it.

From that moment, the outcome of the war was never in doubt. Oh, there was a lot of fighting yet to be done—another year in Europe—and some of the fiercest fighting of the war, including the infamous Battle of the Bulge. But with Allied soldiers, and their equipment, on European soil, Hitler could hold out only so long. It was just a matter of time.

In the person of his Son, God has entered enemy territory and declared his intentions. His plans will never change, and his power—unlike that of the Allied armies—is unlimited.

Your circumstances may be dark, even terrifying. But God is directing your steps according to his perfect plan, and nothing will deflect or deter him. You can endure in the confidence that comes from an unchanging God.

Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Unstable World, Stable God, Part 8: Mercy

December 12, 2022 by Dan Olinger

There’s another way we benefit because God doesn’t change.

We noted last time that God keeps his promises to us, because (among other things) he’s never surprised by circumstances that prevent him from keeping them.

There’s another side to that principle, one that has benefited us infinitely and continues to benefit us every day.

Sometimes other people surprise us. We do nice things to them, and they take no notice—or worse, they begin to expect those things. They don’t respond in kind. And they leave us wondering, “What is wrong with people like that? How can they return evil for good? Well, see if I ever do anything for them …”

That’s a typical human response. Tit for tat. Eye for an eye. Don’t cry for people who won’t cry for you.

And in a way, there’s a certain kind of justice in that. He mistreated me; he gets what he deserves. What goes around comes around.

Karma.

We excuse ourselves by calling it justice, but in fact we’ve changed. We were inclined to do the right thing, to be kind, to be generous, to be caring. And a circumstance—the way we were treated—changed us. Now we’re not so inclined.

That change of attitude and inclination tells us something. It tells us that our original motives weren’t philanthropic or altruistic at all. We were expecting payback.

We were motivated not by love for our neighbor, but by love for ourselves.

God’s not that way. At all.

He is motivated, as always, by his own nature—in this case, his nature to be perfectly, consistently, eternally, selflessly loving.

He treats us well. And by “us,” I mean all of us. He placed our first parents into a world perfectly designed for them. And thousands of years later, he sends rain to the just and also to the unjust (Mt 5.45). He gives us—all—everything we need, for free.

How did we respond to his kindness? We turned on him like utter ingrates, rebelling against him, rejecting his offer of relationship, denying his goodness, insisting that we were wiser than he.

If you and I were God—I speak as a fool—how would we have responded in that situation?

Ah, but that’s the difference, you see. We are changed by our circumstances, slaves to our own limited knowledge, victims of surprise.

God is not. He is not surprised; he is not changed.

He knew, when he made us, how we would turn out. He loved us before we rebelled, and he loves us after. On the day he made our first father, he committed to an eternal relationship with us—committed, in fact, to becoming one of us, forever, offering himself in mortal flesh as the infinite and morally perfect sacrifice for our sin.

We would strike out at those who mistreat us, and do it in the name of Justice.

He withholds that judgment, taking it upon himself, so that Justice is done, but not at our expense.

He withholds from us the evil consequences that we justly deserve.

The technical term for that is Mercy.

And he offers that gift to anyone who wants it. For free.

It comes to us, because our God does not change, even in the
face of our rebellion.

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).

The gifts and the calling of God are irrevocable (Ro 11.29).

God, desiring even more to show to the heirs of the promise the unchangeableness of His purpose, interposed with an oath, ¹⁸so that by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have taken refuge would have strong encouragement to take hold of the hope set before us. ¹⁹This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, ²⁰where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us, having become a high priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek (He 6.17-20).

Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash