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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Unstable World, Stable God, Part 2: Jesus Included

November 17, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s True

Everything changes, except God.

The Psalmist meditates lyrically on this idea:

24 I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days: Thy years are throughout all generations. 25 Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth: And the heavens are the work of thy hands. 26 They shall perish, but thou shalt endure: Yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed: 27 But thou art the same, And thy years shall have no end. 28 The children of thy servants shall continue, And their seed shall be established before thee (Ps 102.24-28).

Generations change. Heaven and earth change. But not God.

And because God is changeless, his children will continue, because his promises last forever.

Incidentally, the writer of Hebrews applies this passage to Jesus (He 1.10-12). He’s listing a number of passages from the Hebrew Scripture that demonstrate that the Son is greater than the angels—

  • For unto which of the angels said he at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee? And again, I will be to him a Father, and he shall be to me a Son? (He 1.5, citing Ps 2.7, 2S 7.14).
  • And again, when he bringeth in the firstbegotten into the world, he saith, And let all the angels of God worship him (He 1.6, citing Dt 32.43 in the Septuagint).
  • Unto the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom (He 1.8, citing Ps 45.6).

And then he cites this passage from Psalm 102.

And he’s not done. He begins his epistle/sermon with this idea, and he ends it with the same idea:

  • Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever (He 13.8).

Bookending a document with parallel ideas like that is called an inclusio, and among other things it tells us that this idea is a key part of the writer’s message.

Now, this is surprising, because we all know that at a point in time the Son, who was always God, took on human flesh and became incarnate—permanently. He lived on earth, and died, and rose again, and ascended back to the Father. We could say, to use the terminology of Hebrews 13.8, that “yesterday” he was the Creator and Redeemer, and “today” he is our Mediator and Intercessor, and “forever” he will be our King.

How is that not change?

That’s a good question.

Part of our problem understanding this is that it involves the biblical teaching of the Trinity, the very nature of the Godhead, and our finite minds are just not good at wrapping themselves around it. (If you think you understand it, then there’s something you’re missing.)

The standard view is that Jesus added to his eternal, and unchanging, divine nature a human nature that had not been there before.

How does that work?

Well, some of the smartest people on the planet wrestled with that question for 400 years, and when they were done, they chose to state what happened but to not even try to explain how it happened.

You and I are probably not going to do better than that.

But however it all works, this we know: God is the same. He is faithful. He will never forget. He will never leave. He will never change.

This isn’t just some theological abstract coming down from an ivory tower somewhere. This is highly practical, every day, and truly life changing.

I’d like to consider two questions for the rest of this series:

  • Why does God not change?

and

  • What difference does his changelessness make—to me?

Next time.

Part 3: No Need to Grow | Part 4: No Need to Aspire  | Part 5: No Greater Force | Part 6: No Decay | Part 7: Trustworthiness | Part 8: Mercy | Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

Unstable World, Stable God, Part 1: It’s True

November 14, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The world’s gone crazy, hasn’t it?

Culture has changed. Government has changed. Politics has changed. Society has changed. Church has changed.

Some would observe that this is nothing new, that these things change constantly. And indeed they do.

But it does seem as though the pace of change is accelerating, doesn’t it?

  • As my father aged, it occurred to me that when he was born on his father’s homestead ranch in Idaho in 1918, everyday life was pretty much the same as it was in Abraham’s day: you got water from the well or the river; you grew your food in the dirt just outside the house; you plowed your fields with oxen; you did your excretory business in a hole in the ground. But before he died, he and I sat down at my computer, pulled up Google Earth, and revisited the homestead virtually. He showed me which side of Sandy Creek the ranch was on, and we “stood” there and looked up at the Continental Divide, just a couple of miles east.
  • An internet meme observes that it was only 66 years—shorter than my lifespan—from the Wright brothers’ first flight at Kitty Hawk to the moon landing. And the SR-71 Blackbird was introduced 3 years before that.
  • And the sociosexual changes in the last 20 years in the US would have been unimaginable even when I embarked on my working life after graduate school.

Closer to home, there’s change in our individual lives as well: you change jobs; you change bosses; you change residences; you face a financial setback; a family member dies; your marriage breaks up.

I see a lot of angst over this.

A lot of people are bewildered, scared, frustrated about all this change.

And they should be. The change is real and often devastating, and we’re not designed to live in constant chaos.

The Scripture doesn’t ignore this problem, and it doesn’t try to “pep talk” us out of our distress with platitudes. But it does offer two truths that can stabilize us despite the instability of our world.

The first is the simple fact that instability is temporary. Most of us find that we can endure all kinds of things if there’s light at the end of the tunnel. (And yes, we all know the joke about the oncoming train.) The brokenness of our world, which is the cause of its instability and pain, has already been reckoned with, and Scripture promises an eventual onset of permanent peace, shalom (Re 21.1-7)—regardless of your eschatological system. :-)

That’s not pie in the sky, meant to keep the proletariat in bondage; it’s the promise of God.

Which brings me to the second truth, and the focus of this series.

God doesn’t change.

I change; you change; our loved ones change, as do our friends, our suppliers, our lawyers, our pastors, and every one of our circumstances.

But not God.

He can’t.

His very nature is to be stable, to be steady, to be faithful, to be reliable.

Theologians call this divine attribute “immutability”—God doesn’t mutate. It’s closely associated with his attribute of faithfulness. The Hebrew word for the latter is ‘emunah, the source of our word “Amen”—“may it ever be so.”

Interestingly, this idea is part of the personal name that God chose for himself; as he told Moses at the burning bush, “I AM THAT I AM” (Ex 3.14). He says, “This is my name for ever, and this is my memorial unto all generations” (Ex 3.15). In context, God’s point is that centuries earlier he had made promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and now he was going to see that those promises were kept—the descendants of those patriarchs were now going to enter the land that God had promised them.

Faithful. That’s essentially his name.

More to come.

Part 2: Jesus Included | Part 3: No Need to Grow | Part 4: No Need to Aspire  | Part 5: No Greater Force | Part 6: No Decay | Part 7: Trustworthiness | Part 8: Mercy | Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

Even Though, Part 6: But …

October 31, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence | Part 3: Transcendence in Action | Part 4: Responding with Praise | Part 5: A Case Study

To this point in Psalm 89, the psalmist, Ethan the Ezrahite, has been recounting God’s faithfulness. That’s all well and good when things are proceeding smoothly—when David or his descendants are on the throne. There’s reason to mourn when those descendants lapse into sin or rule unwisely, of course, but the line is intact, and the promises appear to be in a position to be fulfilled. Great.

But in Ethan’s day things had taken a turn. Our knowledge of the specifics is hampered by the fact that we don’t know exactly when Ethan lived; as I noted in the first post in this series, he’s mentioned in Kings, which was likely written during the Babylonian Exile, so he could have lived anytime up to that time period.

He describes God’s “casting” of the king’s “crown” “to the ground” (Ps 89.39b) and bringing “his strongholds to ruin” (Ps 89.40). This is certainly an apt description of Nebuchadnezzar’s sacking of Jerusalem.  He even says that God has “made void the covenant of [his] servant” (Ps 89.39a), which sounds a lot like God’s curse on Coniah, mentioned in the previous post.

Is the promise to David void? Has God not kept his word?

God had said that he would discipline any Davidic king’s disobedience (Ps 89.30-32). In that sense, the promise could be temporarily conditional—as odd as that sounds. But the covenant does continue (Ps 89.33); in the end, it is monergistic, not synergistic. Hosea, writing centuries earlier, had guaranteed the promise (Ho 3.4-5), and Ezekiel, writing from exile in Babylon, doubles down on it as well (Ezk 37.24-28). One commentator writes, “The promises had not failed but human understanding of God’s time-scale and of the complexity of his world-rule was not sufficient to keep step with what he was doing” (DA Carson et al., eds., New Bible Commentary, 4th ed. [Downers Grove: Inter-Varsity Press, 1994], 544). Jesus Christ—Joseph’s adopted Son—was presented in AD 30, reigns in heaven today (Heb 1.3-4), and will reclaim David’s earthly throne in God’s good time (Rev 20.4-6).

Unaware of most of this, the psalmist turns to a plea for deliverance:

46 How long, LORD? wilt thou hide thyself for ever? shall thy wrath burn like fire? 47 Remember how short my time is: wherefore hast thou made all men in vain? 48 What man is he that liveth, and shall not see death? shall he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave? Selah. 49 Lord, where are thy former lovingkindnesses, which thou swarest unto David in thy truth? 50 Remember, Lord, the reproach of thy servants; how I do bear in my bosom the reproach of all the mighty people; 51 Wherewith thine enemies have reproached, O LORD; wherewith they have reproached the footsteps of thine anointed (Ps 89.46-51).

He asks the Lord to ”remember” (Ps 89.47). As I’ve written before, remembering in the Bible isn’t what we think of when we use the word; it’s not related to the power of our intellect so much as to our desire to place our thoughts on something. God obviously doesn’t “forget” things—where he put his house keys, or whatever—because he can’t; he’s omniscient. But he does choose to place his thoughts on things: he refuses to think on our sins (Jer 31.34) and chooses to think on his promises to his people (Ex 2.24).

It’s in this spirit that Ethan asks God to remember the vulnerability of his servants and his promises to their ancestors. This is an eminently reasonable request, for it calls on the very core of God’s nature as a keeper of covenants.

We can do the same.

Ethan ends the psalm with a simple declaration, one that testifies to his faith in the goodness and faithfulness of God: Blessed be the LORD for evermore. Amen, and Amen (Ps 89.52).

Even though.

Indeed.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

Even Though, Part 5: A Case Study

October 27, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence | Part 3: Transcendence in Action | Part 4: Responding with Praise

The psalmist has demonstrated God’s goodness through general revelation—specifically, what it teaches us about God’s person and works. Now he turns to special revelation—the story of how God has revealed himself to just one of his servants by choosing, blessing, and speaking to him.

The previous section, discussed in the previous post, ends by saying, “Our king [belongs] to the Holy One of Israel” (Ps 89.18 ESV). This statement naturally calls to the psalmist’s mind Israel’s greatest king, the patriarch of the nation’s defining dynasty. God, says the psalmist, has specially revealed himself as good through his dealings with David.

Powerful

God chooses David as a particular recipient of his power: “Mine arm also shall strengthen him” (Ps 89.21); “I will beat down his foes before his face, and plague them that hate him” (Ps 89.23); “In my name shall his horn be exalted. 25 I will set his hand also in the sea, and his right hand in the rivers” (Ps 89.24-25).

Before God was finished, David’s kingdom spread from the Mediterranean Sea in the west toward the Euphrates River in the north and beyond the Jordan River and the Dead Sea in the east. And God is here demonstrating not only his power, but his faithfulness; these boundaries recall his much earlier promise to Abraham (Gen 15.18) and to Moses (Ex 23.31).

Personal

26 He shall cry unto me, Thou art my father, my God, and the rock of my salvation. 27 Also I will make him my firstborn, higher than the kings of the earth (Ps 89.26-27).

God establishes a family relationship with David; Israel’s king is not only a worshiper and a servant, but a son—and a firstborn son at that.

The firstborn son had privileges in the family. Upon the father’s death, the firstborn son received a double portion of the inheritance, and he became the family’s patriarch in the place of the father. Now, if God is the father, he’s not going to die, and those provisions will never be placed into effect. But the place of the firstborn is the honored place.

The position did not need to follow biological birth order; God chose Jacob over Esau (Ro 9.12-13), and Jacob chose Joseph’s sons over Reuben (Ge 49.3-4, 22-26), and of Joseph’s sons he preferred Ephraim over Manasseh (Ge 48.14-20). Here David is the youngest of Jesse’s sons, but he is the ranking one of God’s chosen.

Permanent

We all know that David is not the end of this story; after him God chooses Solomon (2S 7.12-15), and by the end of that conversation we realize that this isn’t really about Solomon either; David will have a Greater Son who will reign forever; of his kingdom there shall be no end (2S 7.16; Is 9.6; 11.1, 10).

The psalmist recounts this part of the promise as well. David’s line will endure forever (Ps 89.4, 29, 36, 37).

Now, there hasn’t been a king on the throne of David since Judah’s exile to Babylon in 586 BC. Even after Judah returned from exile under Zerubbabel, the grandson of the last king, he was not king in his own right—most obviously because the Persians were in charge, but more importantly because God had cursed David’s line in Coniah and all his descendants (Je 22.24-28).

I’ve written elsewhere on this conundrum of providence. The curse is bypassed when Joseph, the cursed heir to Coniah’s throne, adopts the virgin-born son of Mary, conferring on him the legal claim to the throne but without the biological curse.

So Jesus the Christ becomes David’s Greater Son.

When did he begin to reign?

Theologians debate that; there are the Covenant Theologians and the Dispensationalists (Classic and Progressive), and that battle will end only when Christ visibly makes the answer obvious.

But no one will doubt when the trumpet sounds and the pronouncement echoes across the halls of the universe,

The kingdoms of this world are become the Kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ! And he shall reign forever and ever! (Re 11.15).

It is done (Re 21.6).

Hallelujah! (Re 19.4).

The psalmist is not finished. We’ll continue next time.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

Even Though, Part 4: Responding with Praise

October 24, 2022 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence | Part 3: Transcendence in Action

Ethan the Ezrahite has outlined the ways that God’s revelation of himself in creation has proclaimed both his personal characteristics and his powerful works. As he meditates on these things, he sees only one appropriate response, and he calls us to it.

That response is praise.

The psalmist writes,

15 Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound: they shall walk, O LORD, in the light of thy countenance. 16 In thy name shall they rejoice all the day: and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted. 17 For thou art the glory of their strength: and in thy favour our horn shall be exalted. 18 For the LORD is our defence; and the Holy One of Israel is our king (Ps 89.15-18).

God’s people, those created in his image and protected by his mighty arm, those who see his power projected over all creation, his ability to protect and defend them in any way needed, those people respond instinctively, exuberantly, with praise, with a “joyful sound” (KJV NASB), with a “festal shout” (ESV). The psalmist speaks implicitly of the celebration at Israel’s great feasts—

  • Passover, which celebrates Israel’s deliverance from Egypt;
  • Pentecost, which celebrates the early summer harvest;
  • Tabernacles, which celebrates God’s provision for the Israelites during the wilderness wanderings, and which, because of its seasonal timing, became a celebration of the year’s final harvest, a kind of Israelite Thanksgiving.

Of particular interest is the Feast of Trumpets, which began with a blast on the ram’s horns (Lev 23.23-25).

God’s people would respond to his goodness, his power, his provision, his appointed times of rest and celebration, with a joyful sound, a festal shout, as they walked in the light of his face turned toward them in grace.

They rejoice in his name (Ps 89.16)—in names that tell

  • of his might as a soldier defending them (El Gibbor and El Shaddai, the Mighty God);
  • of his exaltation above all their enemies (El Elyon, the Most High God);
  • of his everlasting life and presence (El Olam, the Everlasting God);
  • and most especially of his personal, living covenant relationship with his beloved people (Yahweh, “I Am”).

And they are exalted by his righteousness, which he graciously imparts to them through the sacrificial intervention of a substitute (Ex 12.27). Their strength—in battles, in difficulties, in daily life—are based in his strength (Ps 89.17), given freely to them.

Because he is gracious, generous, and good to them, they can be strong in battle, both offensively (KJV “our horn shall be exalted,” Ps 89.17) and defensively (NASB ESV NIV “our shield belongs to the LORD,” Ps 89.18). Their king, who leads them into battle, belongs to the Holy (unique, unparalleled) One of Israel (Ps 89.18b NASB ESV CSB NIV).

What other response to such a God can be imagined? What praise can possibly meet the appropriate standard for such unmeasured grace?

As a species we are too slow to recognize grace, too quick to embrace dissatisfaction or injustice—real or imagined—and too shallow and begrudging in our offering of thanksgiving. The old gospel song urges us to “count [our] blessings, name them one by one,” but we often cast aside that census as easily as we have cast aside the song.

Many years ago, when I was in college, someone encouraged me to devote a session of prayer just to thanksgiving, without asking for anything. I went down to a prayer room that the university provided in my dorm, got down on my knees and began to recall and recount the many ways God had been good to me. I kept thinking of more things, and more things, and when I wrapped up the session, I was astonished to see that I’d been at it for an hour. I don’t think I’d ever prayed for an hour before.

That experience made an impression on me—not least because I kept thinking of things I’d left out.

To this day I keep a list of God’s graces in my life—physical, circumstantial, providential, spiritual—and I recall a few of them every day during my prayer time. My life hasn’t been a bed of roses by any means—though a lot of my friends are facing deeper waters than I ever have—but I’ve found that a daily routine of gratitude makes a huge difference in my attitude, my joy, my approach to the day’s challenges, and, as many are talking about these days, my mental health.

Know the joyful sound. Walk in the light of his countenance.

Shalom.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

Even Though, Part 3: Transcendence in Action 

October 20, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Getting Started | Part 2: Personal Transcendence

The psalmist has shown in verses 5-8 that God is transcendent in his person and attributes; now he pivots to consider God’s works.

9 Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, thou stillest them. 10 Thou hast broken Rahab in pieces, as one that is slain; thou hast scattered thine enemies with thy strong arm. 11 The heavens are thine, the earth also is thine: as for the world and the fulness thereof, thou hast founded them. 12 The north and the south thou hast created them: Tabor and Hermon shall rejoice in thy name. 13 Thou hast a mighty arm: strong is thy hand, and high is thy right hand. 14 Justice and judgment are the habitation of thy throne: mercy and truth shall go before thy face (Ps 89.9-14).

God is powerful enough to rule over the sea (Ps 89.9). This is no paean to some Israelite version of Neptune with his trident; the psalmist will show shortly that God is not just a “sea god.” So why does he start with the sea?

To someone in the ancient world, nothing on earth was stronger than the sea; it does as it wishes, whether in a few inches of tidal shift or in a 30-foot wave crashing over a hapless boat. Israel is a coastal nation, and all who have seen the sea have been awed by its immenseness and its power.

And Yahweh, God of Hosts (Ps 89.8), rules over it.

It’s hard to know where Ethan the Ezrahite conceived the idea of God’s stilling the raging sea. We think of Jesus on the Sea of Galilee, of course, or of Jonah being protected from the raging storm by a great fish. But neither of those events had occurred by Ethan’s time. He did know, however, about God’s use of the Red Sea to crush the armies of Egypt (cf Is 51.9-10).

He then speaks of “[breaking] Rahab in pieces” (Ps 89.10). This is puzzling to Bible readers who think only of the Jerichoan prostitute (Jos 2.1) when they hear the name. This is actually a completely different name; in Hebrew this name is Rahab, while the prostitute’s name is Rachab. This Rahab was a mythical sea monster, often spoken of among Canaanite peoples (Job 9.13, 26.12; Is 51.9 [note the use of the name here in connection with the Red Sea account]). The psalmist’s mention of it need not be taken as a sign that he believed it was real, though he may have. (Biblical authors almost certainly were wrong about various things—as all humans are—but the Spirit prevented them from saying anything untrue in their canonical writings [2P 1.21].) His point, clearly, is that God is greater than the most fearsome creatures imaginable—even those whose rampages might make the raging sea even more violent.

And now he moves beyond even the immensity of the sea to the exponentially vaster earth, and even the heavens—and I’m reasonably sure that this Israelite psalmist had no idea how really vast the heavens are, since light years hadn’t been invented yet.

He mentions one of the most impressive structures on earth, the mountains—specifically Hermon and Tabor. Hermon is the largest mountain in the region—tall enough to be snow-capped—and Tabor is a major landmark within the tribal allotments of Israel, rising over the plain of Jezreel. Living where he does, Ethan has chosen the most impressive topographical features he knows.

And God rules over them. In fact, he created them, brought them into being (Ps 89.11). A creator can do what he wishes with the products of his hands. The sea, the earth, the sky—it’s all his product and his servant.

Someone with this kind of power could be terrifying—a Godzilla, rampaging through the cities and destroying all in his path (Ps 89.13). But the psalmist reminds us that the Creator and Lord of all these powerful forces is not like that. He’s righteous and just, a reliable maintainer rather than a blind destroyer (Ps 89.14). Preceding him in his path through his creation are lovingkindess (hesed) and truth (emeth, a sister word to emunah). His enemies should be afraid of him, but we his people need not fear.

How do we respond to such a God? Our psalmist friend will get to that next.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

Even Though, Part 2: Personal Transcendence

October 17, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Getting Started 

The writer continues Psalm 89 with a hymn, listing reasons to praise God. The hymn is extensive; it runs 33 verses—which implies that we should expect a lot of reasons.

He begins, as many Palms do, with what the theologians call “general revelation,” so called because, unlike “special revelation” (the Scripture), it is given to all people. It’s as plain as the sun during the day, the stars at night, the air you breathe, and yes, the nose on your face.

The most obvious element of general revelation is God’s transcendence, his status as above and beyond his creatures. Most people have experienced that revelation when they have looked at the star-filled sky on a clear night and sensed something bigger, greater than they are—and perhaps they’ve even thought, “Whoever is out there, I want to know you.”

General revelation will do that.

The psalmist expresses this transcendence by asking, “Who in the heaven can be compared unto the LORD? who among the sons of the mighty can be likened unto the LORD?” (Ps 89.6). The question is of course rhetorical; the expected answer is “no one.” No one can be compared to him; he is unlike all his creatures.

The biblical name for that incomparability is holiness. It is God’s foundational attribute, for in all his other attributes he is incomparable to anyone or anything else.

The structure of vv 6-7 is chiastic, or X-shaped. Verse 6, the question, addresses first the heavenly beings and then humans (“sons of the mighty”), while verse 7, the response, works its way back out in reverse order by concluding that “God is greatly to be feared in the assembly of the saints,” and then “to be had in reverence [by] all them that are about him” (Ps 89.6-7). This structure reinforces the strength of the comparison and gives it a sense of roundness or completeness: the end addresses all the elements raised in the beginning.

The psalmist lists two specific attributes of God that set him apart as incomparable. First, he is faithful (Ps 89.5, 8). He has mentioned this attribute in the Psalm’s opening (Ps 89.1, 2), alongside hesed, which we noted in the previous post. The Hebrew word for “faithfulness” is emunah, which is where we get our word “Amen”; when we say the word, we’re saying, “May it be so!” or “That’s right! That’s true!”

God is like that. He keeps all his promises; he does not change; he is not frustrated by circumstances or other external forces. He is faithful.

The second attribute that the Psalmist specifies is might: “Who is a strong LORD like unto thee?” (Ps 89.8). This is the word for the kind of strength that impresses onlookers, that provokes awe. God never meets his match; his purpose is never delayed or diverted. If God is long in keeping his promises, it is because his purposes are best served by the length of time. There is no force that can affect his will or his accomplishment.

These verses call to mind Isaiah’s famous vision of the heavenly court (Is 6.1-4).God is “high and lifted up,” surrounded by flaming seraphs, with the doorposts shaking at their cries and the room “filled with smoke.”

The Psalmist specifies our appropriate response to these attributes of personal transcendence: we his saints (“holy ones,” because he is holy) should fear him, and those heavenly beings in Isaiah’s vision should hold him in reverence (Ps 89.7)—which, Isaiah shows us, they do.

I know that the “fear of the LORD” is not properly viewed as terror or dread; pretty much every Bible teacher makes that point when he’s defining the term. But you know, if we were to see the scene that Isaiah saw, we’d be scared. We’d know that we were in the presence of someone far greater than we are. I would hope that in that moment I would remember that this great God is my loving Father, but still, my eyes would be wide, my breath would be fast, and my pulse would be racing. I would fear him, and not just in a theoretical way.

The Psalmist starts here, because a vision of this great and incomparable God will profoundly affect the way we think about all the crises we face and all the evil we see.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. The Psalmist has more points to make first.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

Even Though, Part 1: Getting Started

October 13, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

What do you do when you see evidence around you that God is not who or what he says he is?

This is not a hypothetical question. There is much not to like about the world we live in—and I’m a happier, more optimistic guy than a lot of people I interact with. Plenty of people are having a really rough time. If you talk to people who say they used to believe in God but don’t anymore, many of them will say that the reason they don’t believe is that they don’t see how a great and good God would allow the hurtful things they see all around them. And a disturbing percentage of them would say that those hurtful things came to them from churches or individual Christians.

So what do you do?

I’ve found that the Bible, though it doesn’t give pat, easy answers, does handle hard questions well, if you read it accurately and thoughtfully. As I sometimes say to a person asking me about this problem, “It’s a big-boy question, and it calls for a big-boy answer; if you want a 2-minute answer, you’re going to be disappointed. You’re going to need to read some books.”

And the first book, of course, is the Bible. Accurately and thoughtfully, as I’ve said.

One of several good places to start in the Bible is Psalm 89. I’d like to take a few posts to consider what it says.

__________

Like many Psalms, this one has a superscription. There’s a debate about the value of those; traditionally scholars have viewed them as later editorial additions to the Psalms, but there’s been discussion recently that suggests they might be part of the inspired text.

Whether they are or not, there’s certainly no harm in learning what we can from them.

This superscription says that the Psalm is a “Maskil,” or teaching Psalm. It’s intended to be didactic, to improve our understanding of its topic.

Well, we could all use some of that.

It says further that it’s by “Ethan the Ezrahite.” Some commentators say that the term should be “Zerahite,” which would make this Ethan the same as the one named in the long genealogy in 1 Chronicles (1Ch 2.6, 8). Maybe, maybe not. We know there was a Temple musician named Ethan (1Ch 15.17, 19), but he doesn’t appear to have any ancestors named Ezra—if that’s what “Ezrahite” means.

This Ethan does appear in 1 Kings 4.31, alongside a Heman, whose name also appears as a Temple musician in the Chronicles passage. The point of this verse is that Solomon was wiser than either of them—so apparently they were considered eminently wise in their day. (By the way, this verse doesn’t mean that Solomon must have lived after Ethan; since Kings was probably written during the Babylonian Exile, its author could have compared Solomon with those who came after him.)

All this may be a bit off in the weeds, but I love this stuff. And it’s my blog. :-)

The first stanza of the Psalm serves as an introduction that sets the tone for all that follows. It opens with words familiar and nostalgic to those of a certain age; those of us who were in evangelical youth groups 50 or so years ago often sang a chorus based on the KJV of verse 1. (You know who you are; you have the tune in your head right now.)

The Psalmist declares his intent to praise God, and specifically to focus on his “mercies” (KJV; “lovingkindness” NASB; “steadfast love” ESV; “faithful love” CSB; “great love” NIV). This is the rich and complex Hebrew word hesed, which I’ve written on before. It’s a commitment to a loving relationship, no matter what.

God is faithful to his people—and to those who are not his people, although no one, in or out of the relationship, is faithful to him.

That’s worth praising.

Next time we’ll dig a little deeper.

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, problem of evil, Psalms, systematic theology, theodicy, theology proper

Reasons to Celebrate in Hard Times (Psalm 103), Part 4: Let Us Thank Him

August 25, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: God Is Good to You and Me | Part 2: God Is Good to His People | Part 3: God Is Great

How do we respond to God’s goodness and greatness, to his utter commitment to seek and accomplish our welfare, forever?

Our response should be automatic, immediate, and immense.

We should be grateful.

We should all be grateful.

David makes that point with a crescendo of praise:

20 Bless the LORD, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word.

I teach systematic theology, with its 10 traditional doctrinal units. The unit on salvation—soteriology—is a lot longer than the unit on angels, for a simple reason: we don’t know much about angels, because we’re not told much.

We do know that we humans are “a little lower than the angels” (Ps 8.5), and that they serve both God (our verse here) and God’s people (He 1.14); that they have considerable, but not infinite, power (Da 10.13); and that some of them, at least, enter God’s throne room (Is 6.2). These are not personages to be trifled with.

But David calls them to praise God. And then he escalates.

21 Bless ye the LORD, all ye his hosts; ye ministers of his, that do his pleasure.

God often refers to himself as “the LORD of hosts,” a title we take to speak of his power to enforce his will, backed as he is by heavenly armies. (Of course, as omnipotent, he doesn’t need the backing, but it makes for powerful imagery [2K 6.17].)

All those hosts? The ones with the chariots of fire? They bow in humble corporate gratitude before him who is good, who is great.

22 Bless the LORD, all his works in all places of his dominion.

Remember how, during Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the Pharisees told him to hush the exuberant crowd? Do you remember what Jesus said to them?

“If these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out” (Lk 19.40).

The inanimate creation itself knows its creator, and David calls it to do the obvious thing—to call out in praise to him.

Which, come to think of it, creation does, every day, and every night (Ps 19.1-6).

I’ve heard that song on the beach at 6.30 am, when I stand with a small band of strangers to watch the glowing orb first peek its beams over the clear horizon.

I’ve heard it while viewing the butterfly display at Chicago’s Field Museum, each creature a different color, some even changing colors as you walk by—even though they’re dead—and meditating on the size of heaven’s graphic design department, all their energies expended on creatures that are made of paper and live for just a week.

I’ve heard it while meditating on flagellates, those tiny creatures that inhabit the digestive tract of termites and break down the indigestible cellulose—which is the only thing that termites eat—into substances that the termite can digest, all the while being protected by the termite from the surrounding oxygen, which is toxic to flagellates. (Which do you suppose evolved first—termites? or flagellates?)

I’ve heard it while threading between thunderheads while negotiating Bozeman Pass in a Cherokee Six.

I’ve heard it in the immense darkness of night in Death Valley or a Nebraska ranch or a Pacific or Caribbean island when I tip my head back toward the sky and stand awash in the light of millions of stars.

Creation’s praise continues all around us, 24 hours a day, despite the brokenness of the planet.

And so I conclude as David does—

Bless the LORD, O my soul.

How can I keep from singing?

I note that there’s more to come.

One day, soon enough in God’s eternal timetable, we all—all God’s people, all his servants, human and otherwise—will surround his throne and sing his praises, millions of voices, including my currently feeble one, raised in perfect praise to the one who is worthy, because he is good, and because he is great, and because he has loved and rescued us.

Even so.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, Psalms, systematic theology, theology proper

Reasons to Celebrate in Hard Times (Psalm 103), Part 3: God Is Great

August 22, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: God Is Good to You and Me | Part 2: God Is Good to His People 

It’s often been said that if God is great but not good, we’re doomed to extinction; if he’s good but not great, then we’re doomed as well, because there’s nothing he can do about our needs. David has delighted us with his meditation on God’s goodness, but now he exponentiates that delight by noting that God can—and will—do all that his goodness motivates him to do.

To begin with, he knows (Ps 103.14)—specifically, he knows the weakness of our constitution (“our frame, … that we are dust,” as the KJV so lyrically puts it).

The fact that God knows all things is an immense assurance to us, his people. He knows who we are and what we are; he knows what’s coming down the highway at us; he knows what it will take to deliver us from the Enemy. He knows.

And because he is good—a point David has already established—he loves us and wills to deliver us.

Omniscience is one of the noncommunicable attributes of God, one of the ways he stands apart from, and above, all other beings and all the forces of his creation. When we face the complexities of life, there’s a lot we don’t know, and we find that ignorance frustrating—“What should I do?”—and sometimes even fear-inducing—“What’s going to happen to me?” But he knows.

There’s more.

He lives.

We have a few short years—as I approach age 70, I understand all the more how short they are—in which we can get done all those things we seek to accomplish, the bucket list and everything else. We’re constantly frustrated by the obvious fact that there just isn’t enough time.

15 As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. 16 For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.

But God, God lives forever. He has always existed, and he always will. For him there is no deadline pressure, no crowded schedule, no ebbing of strength or mental focus.

And that means that his attributes, all of them, have always been and always will be. That goodness David told us about? Still good. Always will be.

Here David focuses on a single aspect of God’s goodness:

17 But the mercy of the LORD is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear him, and his righteousness unto children’s children.

Here the KJV calls this attribute “mercy,” which in English is the withholding of deserved punishment. That in itself is a remarkable source of hope.

But the other English versions render this word differently:

  • NASB: “lovingkindness”
  • ESV: “steadfast love”
  • CSB: “faithful love”
  • NIV “love”

It should occur to us that these are much bigger ideas than just mercy, the withholding of punishment. And that’s a clue that there’s more to this underlying Hebrew word than we might expect.

This is the word hesed, which is one of the most theologically significant words in the entire Hebrew Scripture. It’s the focus of the most often-repeated verse in the Bible: “his mercy endureth forever.” When I was in Seminary, my Hebrew professor glossed it as “steadfast loving loyalty.”

This is covenantal commitment to an important relationship. It’s the fierce determination to see to the welfare of someone you are committed to in love. It’s how husbands ought to treat their wives, and wives their husbands, and parents their children, and children their parents.

Totally committed. Determined.

That’s how God sees his people. And he sees them that way forever. No matter what.

If you’re his child, he is committed to exercising his goodness on your behalf for as long as he lives—until, as the founder of my university put it, “the angels sing a funeral dirge over his grave.”

And that, my friends, will never happen.

He is infinitely good, and he is infinitely great. He wants to protect, direct, and empower his people; he is able to do that; and he is committed to do it.

So how should we respond?

Next time.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Filed Under: Bible, Theology Tagged With: Old Testament, Psalms, systematic theology, theology proper

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