Of Bald Men and Bears

Psalm 78 opens by declaring:

¹Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
     incline your ears to the words of my mouth!
²I will open my mouth in a parable;
     I will utter dark sayings from of old,
³things that we have heard and known,
     that our fathers have told us.
⁴We will not hide them from their children,
     but tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the LORD, and his might,
     and the wonders that he has done.

It is interesting that, on one hand, the psalmist describes his psalm as being a "parable" and an utterance of "dark sayings from of old," which suggests some form of mystery. (Think, for example, of how Jesus specifically used parables to veil the mystery of who he was.) On the other hand, the psalmist insists that he is writing merely things "that we have head and known/that our fathers have told us."

Certainly, much of the psalm is a survey of Israel's history, and therefore a story with which ever good Hebrew would have been intimately familiar. I think, though, that the psalmist sneaks in the mystery at the end of the psalm, masquerading its glory as something very obvious in Israel's history:

⁷⁰He chose David his servant
     and took him from the sheepfolds;
⁷¹from following the nursing ewes he brought him
     to shepherd Jacob his people,
     Israel his inheritance.
⁷²With upright heart he shepherded them
     and guided them with his skillful hand.

What is so mysterious about describing David as the shepherd of Israel? Well, in three of the psalms directly surrounding Psalm 78 (Psalm 77:20, Psalm 79:13, and Psalm 80:1), God himself is described as the Shepherd of Israel. How could both David and God be the Shepherd of Israel?

"I AM the Good Shepherd..."

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 5:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Several months ago, I wrote two posts about the connection of the outward signs of circumcision and baptism to their respective inward realities: circumcision of the heart and baptism of the Spirit. You can read those posts here: Part 1 and Part 2.

In the first post, I discussed the Bible does not speak of circumcision and baptism as ends in themselves, but as signs and seals that point to inward spiritual realities; thus, there is an important link between between the sacraments and regeneration. In the second post, I wrote about the fact that there is not a causal relationship between the outward signs and the inward realities--that is, just as being physically circumcised by itself did not save anyone, neither does water baptism by itself save anyone. So, one big question remains: How, then, do the outward signs correspond to the inward realities?

Let me begin this issue by referring to one of John Piper's arguments against infant baptism. In fact, in the sermon that he discusses these things, he notes that this particular argument has become one of the most important reasons that he is still a Baptist. He argues:

When the New Testament church debated in Acts 15 whether circumcision should still be required of believers as part of becoming a Christian, it is astonishing that not once in that entire debate did anyone say anything about baptism standing in the place of circumcision. If baptism is the simple replacement of circumcision as a sign of the new covenant, and thus valid for children as well as for adults, as circumcision was, surely this would have been the time to develop the argument and so show that circumcision was no longer necessary. But it is not even mentioned.

Now, I should first note that Piper is one of my heroes, and I think that he is one of the most godly men living. His unbridled passion for Jesus Christ humbles and encourages me every time I hear him speak or read something that he wrote. Still, he and I disagree about the nature of baptism. So, allow me to respectfully disagree with the reasoning behind this argument.

I would say that the reason the Jerusalem Council did not bring up baptism as "the simple replacement of circumcision" is that to do so would have given the completely wrong impression to those who believed that a person must become Jewish first, and then a Christian, in order to be saved. The big theological problem behind this dispute was that many Jewish converts to Christianity were understanding their salvation as being rooted in Jewish identity (especially in regard to their being circumcised) and merely continued by Christ. Paul argued vehemently against this reasoning, declaring that Christ is not only the capstone of a Jew's salvation for being Jewish, but the foundation and the capstone (and everything in between) for salvation on the basis of faith.

So, to tell these confused Jewish Christians that baptism was "the simple replacement of circumcision" would have been extremely misleading. It would have confirmed their presuppositions that salvation comes on the basis of being Jewish (with Christ as the capstone of Jewishness), and it would have simply given them a different means of being Jewish--baptism instead of circumcision. Instead, the Jerusalem Council had to proclaim that Jesus Christ alone is the ground of salvation.

(By the way, Piper's whole sermon from which I am quoting is intended to demonstrate that there is not a definite link between circumcision and baptism. I believe that there is, and I have discussed this elsewhere, but I cannot spend too much time defending that point now. I already have enough to say.)

So, why do I bring this up when I said that I intended to write about what baptism actually does do? Mainly, I want my terms to be clear in how I describe the sacraments: Christ alone saves, so the sacraments cannot be more than the means through which Christ saves, rather than the basis of salvation.

This is the thrust of Paul's argument in Romans 4: Abraham was counted righteous by faith before he had received circumcision, partially to show that salvation comes by faith alone, and partially to "make him the father of all who believe without being circumcised, so that righteousness would be counted to them as well, and to make him the father of the circumcised who are not merely circumcised but who also walk in the footsteps of the faith that our father Abraham had before he was circumcised." (Rom 4:11-12) Abraham's salvation by faith became the example of how all who followed him would be saved.

So, what role is left for the sacraments to play in salvation? Since this post has already become quite lengthy (this perhaps should have been two posts), I will suggest only one idea about how to think about the relationship of the baptism to the Christian's salvation: I think that it would be helpful to think of baptism as a seed planted in our hearts, along the lines of Jesus' parable of the sower.

A seed by itself is nothing, and until the seed can find a home in the rich soil of faith (rather than being snatched up or falling on rocky or weedy soil), it cannot produce any fruit. But, because God actually makes use of the outward sign of our baptism in order to cause the inward reality to blossom, baptism is extremely important. I simply think that there is too strong of a link in Scripture between water baptism and Spirit baptism to argue that water baptism is merely symbolic of salvation, but I think that the Scripture too clearly delineates between the two for there to be a absolute causal link. In my judgment, using the metaphor of a seed is a very helpful way to steer clear of these two extremes.

Now, a couple of clarifications for thinking about this metaphor. First, God does not need a seed to cause something to grow. Is God not able to raise up children of Abraham from mere stones? (Matt. 3:9) God normally uses a seed, but in certain cases he can certainly save someone without their being baptized. Salvation is found in Christ alone, even if God generally uses baptism as a means of communicating that salvation.

Second, baptism is often not the first seed planted in someone's life. I grew up in a Christian family, but I was not baptized as an infant. Furthermore, there are plenty of believers who did not even grow up in Christian families. Therefore, the first seed sowed in such lives was the word of God. (Presbyterians understand the grace communicated through the sacraments as being the same grace communicated through the word.) In that case, where the word of God was the seed planted, baptism would not be a second kind of seed, but would be the watering (pardon the pun!) on the seed. In cases where children of believers are indeed baptized after birth, the word that they hear read and preached as they grow up would water their seed of baptism.

In any case, no matter who plants and who waters, "God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth" (1 Cor 3:6-7). In the end, all glory goes to the Father who chose us, to the Son who died and rose again for us, and to the Spirit who enlivens our souls to see the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. All glory be to the Triune God!

So, I hope that you find this metaphor helpful because I think that it communicates an important truth: we are not saved by baptism per se, but by Jesus Christ. Still, God's ordaining the ends of salvation does not mean that he did not ordain the means of communicating that salvation, and among those means (e.g., the proclamation of the word) would be the sacrament of baptism.

Labels: Baptism, Bible, Church, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 8:55 AM | Permalink | Comments

For my Worship Leadership class, we are required to visit two different types of churches (different from each other, and different from our own denomination) and to write papers where we discuss what we saw in the worship services that might be instructive for our own worship. So, a couple of weeks ago, I attended a Sunday evening Catholic mass with a couple who are my friends and members of the church. It was a very interesting assignment, so I published the paper that I wrote, which you can read here.

Also, if you want to read through the liturgy of a Catholic mass, you can see it here.

Labels: Baptism, Bible, Church, Communion, Theology, Worship

Posted by Jacob at 6:35 AM | Permalink | Comments

Nebraska looked fantastic last week against Nevada, winning handily at 52-10. Our offensive line made me reminisce to the days of Tom Osborne's "Pipeline" (a group of beefy linemen who actually came to Hastings one day and autographed some of my Husker paraphernalia...but I digress). I was extremely concerned about our running back situation coming into this season, but I am not too worried about that any more. Actually, our wide receiving corps looked worse than our running backs, dropping perfectly placed passes. Defensively, our team (especially Steve Octavian) looked great, and I think that our defensive line should hold its own better than was expected over the course of this season.

So, I think that we should have a good game today against Wake Forest. I expect us to run fairly well, although nowhere near as successfully as last week, and I don't think that our receivers will drop as many balls this week. I am expecting us to have improved by a couple of notches, and I think that today we will see the unveiling of what most of our season will look like: a very good team, much closer to what we hoped for in Callahan's regime than we have seen to date.

I expect our defense to play hard, and I think that our secondary will step up to play better than they have in the past. Still, I think that Wake Forest's offense will put up a fair number of points. I am highly optimistic, but I don't want to be unrealistic.

My prediction: Nebraska 41, Wake Forest 20.

---

I have been reading Recalling the Hope of Glory, by Allen P. Ross (my Hebrew professor and my professor in Worship Leadership for this semester), which is a book that attempts to map out a biblical theology of worship. I have heard vastly differing reports on the quality of the book, but I am very much appreciating it, having read through the third chapter.

The title of his book is quite descriptive of the theme of his book: the biblical theology of worship is extremely reminiscent of the paradise of Eden (he points out, for example, numerous textual and thematic links between the design and construction of the temple and the creation of the Garden), but it also anticipates the hope of glory in Jesus Christ. We worship both by looking back at God's act in creation--and in his re-creation of the world in Christ's resurrection--and by looking forward to the glory that awaits us when Christ returns.

This book is the textbook for my Worship Leadership class this semester, so we will be reading it over the course of the next couple of months. As an FYI, Dr. Ross teaches the class not only from the book, but also from a perspective of looking at how different churches over the course of church history have put these worship principles into practice. His goal, Lord-willing, is to write a second volume on worship where he will discuss these issues. From what we have discussed in class so far, I think that second volume will be very helpful as well.

Labels: Bible, Books, Church, Football, Nebraska, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 7:37 AM | Permalink | Comments

This morning, I wrote a paper for my Ethics class on "The Morality of Jephthah." It was an extremely interesting topic, and the paper didn't turn out too badly, so I thought I would publish it for your voluntary perusal. You can read it here.

It will be important for you to know Aristotle's categories in assessing the morality of an action, so you'll want to read the text I'm referencing in my paper, which is here. You will only need to read pages 6 and 7 to understand what I'm talking about, but the whole chapter is well-worth the read. Enjoy!

Judges 11:29-40:

²⁹Then the Spirit of the LORD was upon Jephthah, and he passed through Gilead and Manasseh and passed on to Mizpah of Gilead, and from Mizpah of Gilead he passed on to the Ammonites. ³⁰And Jephthah made a vow to the LORD and said, "If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, ³¹then whatever comes out from the doors of my house to meet me when I return in peace from the Ammonites shall be the LORD’s, and I will offer it up for a burnt offering." ³²So Jephthah crossed over to the Ammonites to fight against them, and the LORD gave them into his hand. ³³And he struck them from Aroer to the neighborhood of Minnith, twenty cities, and as far as Abel-keramim, with a great blow. So the Ammonites were subdued before the people of Israel.

³⁴Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah. And behold, his daughter came out to meet him with tambourines and with dances. She was his only child; besides her he had neither son nor daughter. ³⁵And as soon as he saw her, he tore his clothes and said, "Alas, my daughter! You have brought me very low, and you have become the cause of great trouble to me. For I have opened my mouth to the LORD, and I cannot take back my vow." ³⁶And she said to him, "My father, you have opened your mouth to the LORD; do to me according to what has gone out of your mouth, now that the LORD has avenged you on your enemies, on the Ammonites." ³⁷So she said to her father, "Let this thing be done for me: leave me alone two months, that I may go up and down on the mountains and weep for my virginity, I and my companions." ³⁸So he said, "Go." Then he sent her away for two months, and she departed, she and her companions, and wept for her virginity on the mountains. ³⁹And at the end of two months, she returned to her father, who did with her according to his vow that he had made. She had never known a man, and it became a custom in Israel ⁴⁰that the daughters of Israel went year by year to lament the daughter of Jephthah the Gileadite four days in the year.

Labels: Bible, Philosophy, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 6:01 AM | Permalink | Comments

I was reading Psalm 72 just now, where Solomon prays that God would extend the rule of "the king." (Actually, the "Of Solomon" could be translated "For Solomon," and, since verse 20 says "The prayers of David, the son of Jesse, are ended," this could possibly be David's psalm for his son.)

Solomon is praying for himself (or David is praying for his son) along with any other kings following him who might pray this for themselves; however, I think that it clearly has typological implications for how we might think about Jesus, the Great King coming one day to rule over all the earth In verse 15, the psalmist writes:

Long may he live;
     may gold of Sheba be given to him!
May prayer be made for him continually,
     and blessings invoked for him all the day!

I'm not sure that, in taking this psalm typologically, we would need to adhere slavishly to every detail of the psalm; however, it is an interesting thought to pray for Jesus just as we might pray (although with a very different dynamic) for our other leaders in the church or in the political world. Following even more biblical imagery, Jesus will one day be our husband, and most people pray for their future spouses.

The trick is, of course, that Jesus does not lack anything. Can prayer be made for someone who possesses all wisdom, power, strength, honor, glory, and love? I suppose this gets into some deep water theologically in regard to prayer, and I don't really have enough worked out there to be able to offer much. Any thoughts?

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday in my theology class, my professor expressed his disagreement with Augustine's conception of the nature of evil. Augustine essentially argued three things:

1. God created all things, so that nothing exists that God did not create.
2. God created all things to be Good.
3. Therefore, from (1) and (2), evil cannot be a creation of God, and therefore evil cannot exist in the way that Good exists. Therefore, evil is not the presence of something in its own right, but the lack of the Good that God originally instilled in his creation.

When we examined this argument in a class I took in my undergraduate years, I found it very persuasive. My professor, however, argued that it would be silly to say that evil doesn't exist since the Bible affirms evil as a terrible reality. He likened Augustine's thought with the Christian Scientist understanding of sickness, where they say that, in reality, there is no such thing as sickness, so that we are all healthy--we simply have to believe in the reality of our health through faith. With respect, I don't think that's what Augustine was getting at.

It seems unfair to say that Augustine was denying that evil exists (rightly understood) in the world, since he spends an entire book, his Confessions, talking about how he and the rest of humanity are sinful wretches. So, he wasn't saying that there is no such thing as evil in the world, but he is merely saying that what we call evil is actually a condition where some Good that should be there is not.

This is vastly different from the Christian Scientist understanding of sickness, because, to extend the metaphor, Augustine wouldn't deny that people are "sick" spiritually. This is important, because many liberals today argue that everyone in the world is, in reality, saved (so that no damnation "exists"), and that we merely need to accept the reality of the salvation that we already have. Augustine, in stark contrast, would say that we have a very real problem, but the problem is not the existence of "sickness"--our problem is the lack of "health." That doesn't mean that we don't need to be "cured," but it does mean that we are trying not so much to get rid of our "sickness" as we are trying to re-establish our "health," even if getting rid of the "sickness" is a necessary first step in restoring the "health."

Augustine was trying to avoid the dualism that asserts that both Good and evil have existed from all eternity, a dualism where believers are encouraged to support the "good" god against the "evil" god. C. S. Lewis rightly points out in Mere Christianity (and other places) that, if such a theology were correct, there would be no real reason for us to see good as having primacy or superiority over evil, since both sides have equal claims on our lives. Evil cannot exist in the same way that Good exists, since that puts evil on equal footing with Good. Thus, Lewis talked about evil as "twisted" (i.e., corrupted) Good, and I think that he is closely following Augustine on this subject.

So, as I pondered this issue, I thought of a great illustration from the movie The Neverending Story. In the movie, the conflict is that a world called Fantasia is slowly being consumed by something called the "Nothing." I recall the book saying something to the effect of "If you looked at the Nothing, you felt as if you had gone blind." This wasn't blackness or space, since both of those are something--the Nothing was nothing at all, and that was the problem in the story.

In one sense, the Nothing was a very real problem (i.e., it "existed") because it was destroying all of Fantasia; however, in another sense, the problem with the Nothing was that it didn't exist, and that it was causing more things not to exist. Accordingly, in Augustine's thought, evil is a very real problem (i.e., it "exists") that has destroyed everything, to some extent, that God created to be Good; however, in another sense, the problem with evil is that it doesn't exist (since God only made Good things to exist), and it is causing more of the Good in the world not to exist.

In The Neverending Story, the solution could never have been simply to get rid of the Nothing--or, at least, this would never have been a satisfactory solution since too much had already been destroyed. Instead, the solution could only come about through a restoration of the Good. In our world, God could never have saved us simply by getting rid of evil as though removing our evil would leave us with Good--our incompleteness demanded that salvation could only come through New Creation, where God would recreate humanity and all the rest of creation to be perfectly Good. Put another way, it was never enough for Jesus simply to die on the cross as a punishment for our evil--the resurrection to new life was necessary in order to restore to us the Good we had lost at the Fall.

Labels: Bible, Books, Movies, Philosophy, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 6:36 AM | Permalink | Comments

For my theology class, I just finished reading C. S. Lewis's Mere Christianity. I know that I had already read the book twice, but I may also have read it a third time before this reading. Reading it again, though, showed me just how much Lewis has influenced my thinking on a number of topics. I have believed certain things for such a long time that I came to believe that my own theology was largely the result of my own thinking and Bible study, as though I have been a pioneer in Christian thought.

Rereading this book, though, shattered those thoughts: much of what I thought was mine was really something I picked up from Lewis. I imagine that if I were able to survey, in a moment, all that I have ever read or heard over the course of my life, I would realize that I have had very few original thoughts at all (if any). What a humbling thought!

So, I have been reflecting more on this verse: "What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?" (1 Cor. 4:7b). Ideally, my learning, and then (from what I learn) my teaching and my writing, should all happen because of a desire to build up the church in Christ. I should confess, though, that I am a sinner, and much of what I do in the way of studying theology and of relating it to others comes as a result of a desire to be "important" in the Christian world.

So, to the extent that what I have written or said comes from an arrogance that exalts me rather than Jesus, I truly apologize. This would, by definition, be a public sin, so I want to apologize publicly. I suppose this will probably be something I struggle against all my life, but, by the grace of God, I will one day be free from all this pride, content to gaze into the face of Jesus and discerning to realize that looking at myself instead would be foolishness. Praise God for that!

Also, I have been gaining a fresh appreciation for all the people from whom I learned Christianity during the course of my life. I remember talking about Jesus with my Grandpa as we went on long walks together. I remember learning wonderful Bible stories at my small, Mennonite church in Julesburg, Colorado from Sunday School teachers who were committed to telling us children about Jesus. I appreciate the fact that I have heard at least one sermon a week for virtually all my life. What a staggering thought, to realize that what I now know about Jesus is the fruit of so many people, who knew what they knew from so many people, and on and on! What do we have that we have not received?

Perhaps it would be helpful for those of us called to teaching to have constantly in mind our own mortality. For example, my Grandpa who taught me so much is right now losing much of his mental capacity. This is terribly difficult for me to watch, but it also reminds me that I must take advantage of the time I have to pass along what he and others have passed along to me, all the time concerned about seeing the next generation come to a knowledge of the Savior. I will one day die, even if Grandpa goes a bit sooner, and then both I and he will be forgotten in this world. But, Jesus will never be forgotten, and so, if my reputation and my name are tied up in him, why should this bother me?

Let us thank God for what we have been given.

Labels: Bible, Church, Devotion, Life, Philosophy, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 6:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Lindsey wrote me an e-mail, saying, "I'd like to see some sort of blog discussion about paedocommunion [i.e., infant communion]." We here at Of Bald Men and Bears aim to please our readership, so here we go!

If you are unfamiliar with the issue, allow me to give a brief explanation. Baptists, of course, say that baptism should be withheld from any who cannot make a profession of faith. Then, they withhold communion from any who are unbaptized, so only believers are partaking of the Lord's Supper. This is especially important because Paul writes, "Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup in an unworthy manner will be guilty of profaning the body and blood of the Lord" (1 Cor. 11:27).

For Presbyterians, however, the waters of this issue are a bit muddier since we baptize on the grounds of covenant membership, not professed belief. So, just as infant Hebrew boys were circumcised, we baptize the infants of Christians. Circumcision and baptism make up one set of the covenant signs (sacraments) that God has given to his people as an assurance of his covenant promises.

But here's where the problem comes in: the other set of covenant signs that God gave his people are the Passover feast and the Lord's Supper. There is no particular indication that very young children were excluded from Passover, and the only requirement seems to be that the boys/men were circumcised (Ex. 12:48). So, many Presbyterians argue that baptized children should be allowed to partake of the Lord's Supper as soon as they are capable.

Other Presbyterians, however, point back to 1 Cor. 11:27 to note that small children are incapable of preparing themselves for communion; therefore, it is highly likely that they might partake in an unworthy manner, and therefore would be eating and drinking judgment on themselves (1 Cor. 11:29). The Westminster Confession of Faith, and therefore the Presbyterian Church in America, take this stance.

As for me, I've given some measure of thought to this issue, but I don't know that I have a strong opinion either way. So, for the time being, I'm content to submit myself to the authority of the Westminster Confession and accept their interpretation as the proper administration of the Lord's Supper.

That said, I have heard one good argument that might push me in the other direction: I don't know where I heard this, but someone somewhere made a point that Paul, in 1 Cor. 11, is writing about unworthy partaking of the Lord's Supper rather than unworthy partakers. So, he is writing against those who would stuff themselves on the bread and get drunk on the wine, even while some go without. He is not, technically speaking, writing about people with unrepentant sinfulness in their lives.

So, there are two important questions to ask: (1) Does what Paul says extend in its significance to exclude people with sin who come unrepentantly to the Table? and (2) If so, to what degree must covenant children be able to consciously repent before being admitted to the Table?

And, with that, let's open the floor to discussion.

Labels: Baptism, Bible, Church, Communion, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 7:05 AM | Permalink | Comments

2 Cor 4:7-8 "But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair;"

I've never thought about this part of the passage before. It seems to say that it's normal, indeed necessary, for Christians to be confused by what we believe, to struggle to understand it. This doesn't lead us to "despair" or to give up, but to trust God and keep searching. If we pretend to have everything figured out, we actually diminish "the surpassing power that belongs to God and not to us."

I'm not sure if this perplexity extends to doubts about the truth of Christianity, but I think it conceivably does (Mk 9:24). Sometimes Christians will say to non-Christians that they're 100% convinced of the truth of Christianity, beyond any shade of doubt, and that if the non-Christian would simply put his faith in Christ, he would be too. I think this does a disservice to God because (a) I think they're usually lying (b) if the person becomes a Christian but still struggles with doubt, he worries that he's not really a Christian (c) as this verse says, it doesn't acknowledge our human weakness, and therefore steals some of God's glory.

Labels: Bible, Devotion, Theology

Posted by andrew at 7:14 AM | Permalink | Comments

I asked a few days ago whether we could consider Jesus' parables and sayings as the New Testament equivalent of wisdom literature, and, if so, in what ways we should understand what Jesus says to be different from the books of the Old Testament that we commonly label "Wisdom Literature."

First, I want to defend the idea that Jesus frequently teaches in a style and function that we can (and should) define as "wisdom." I will use the definition that Proverbs gives of wisdom literature to get us going: "Let the wise hear and increase in learning, and the one who understands obtain guidance, to understand a proverb and a saying, the words of the wise and their riddles" (Prov. 1:5-6). Solomon here gives us a pretty wide stylistic definition for wisdom literature, but the essential thing, I think, is that wisdom literature is advice on how to live wisely--that is, how to live skillfully (the basic meaning of the Hebrew word chokmah).

Solomon defines such skillful living in the very next verse: "The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction" (Prov. 1:7). I would also point out that the style of wisdom literature in Proverbs does not exactly match what we see in the book of Job, which functions in a more speculative manner. In other words, we don't really get advice on living from Job, but it causes us to think about the way in which God has wisely ordained the world to work. So, in summary, "wisdom literature" is very broad indeed, but it deals with either (1) instructional wisdom for skillful living, or (2) speculative wisdom that tackles life's big questions.

Because of all of this, I don't think that there should be any problem with labeling much of what Jesus says as wisdom. His parables often act as riddles, and his "kingdom ethic" clearly gives us advice about skillful living (e.g., those who exalt themselves do not live skillfully and will be humbled, but those who humble themselves do live skillfully and will be exalted, etc...). I think that we can easily call what Jesus does (in some places, at least) as his own "wisdom," different from other genres of law, narrative, poetry, and epistle, and so I would be interested if anyone has any further objections to why we couldn't differentiate the genres this way.

But let's get back to the original question: what is the essential difference between what Jesus teaches and what we find in the Old Testament Wisdom Literature? In my mind, the essential difference is that the Old Testament writers taught the wisdom that they had sought out and learned; Jesus, on the other hand, is himself the definition of the wisdom that he taught (cf. 1 Cor. 1:30).

I have really been wrestling since Wednesday with what that might mean, and I would like to suggest the following explanation. Let's say that a group of people wanted to measure everything they did by a standard of whether I, Jacob Gerber, would do it. (God forbid that anyone ever makes this kind of WWJD bracelets!) So, they would try to match exactly my courage as well as my fear, my love as well as my conceitedness, etc... How would they go about determining that exact balance? Certainly, they would have to look at me and at my life.

But let's ask another question: How do I know how to live according to Jacob-ness? Is it an external, objective quality that I have simply mastered, or do I simply live according to Jacob naturally? In other words, am I simply the best at being Jacob, or do I define what it is to be Jacob? I think the answer is clearly the latter.

In the same way, when we say that Christ is our wisdom, we are not simply saying that Christ is the wisest of all that have ever lived, as though wisdom is a quality outside of him that he happened to master. Rather, he defines what it is to be wise. So, it is somewhat misleading to say that Jesus teaches wisdom if we think along the lines of the way in which Solomon and the other wisdom writers of the Old Testament taught wisdom. Rather, we are almost saying that Jesus teaches himself, and, in a sense, Solomon and the gang were trying to teach the personality of Jesus (even if they didn't really know who he would be) in what they wrote.

Perhaps this is what Jesus meant when he told the crowds, "The queen of the South will rise up at the judgment with the men of this generation and condemn them, for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold, something greater than Solomon is here" (Luke 11:31).

So, when we study wisdom literature (in the Old Testament or in what Jesus teaches), we are trying to learn and imitate his personality. We are trying to become like Jesus, because to become like Jesus is to become wise. And here is why seeking wisdom is important: this sort of wisdom transcends our ideas of personal holiness, because wisdom is a much broader category than morality, although it certainly encompasses it. Generally, when we think of morality, we reduce everything either to terms of niceness or of boldness for the truth. Wisdom, however, shows us not only when to encourage children with perfect tenderness to come to us and when to drive people out of temples with whips, but also when we should ask our antagonists pointed questions and when we should stand silent in the face of our accusers.

Therefore be wise, just as your Savior in heaven is wise.

Labels: Bible, Philosophy, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 8:05 AM | Permalink | Comments

This past year that I have been in seminary in Alabama, I have still tried to keep up with the Daily Nebraskan, the school newspaper from my undergraduate institution, the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. On Wednesday, they ran an editorial asserting that the Bible should be read as literature and nothing more. I wrote a letter to the editor in response, and they printed it today. You can read my letter here.

Labels: Bible, Books, Life, Nebraska, Philosophy, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 4:04 AM | Permalink | Comments

I mentioned awhile ago that I was writing a paper to contrast baptism and the Lord's Supper in Baptist and Presbyterian thought. I just finished the paper, although, as I began writing it, I realized that I only had enough space to focus on baptism. Here is one of the better sections:

This definition [i.e., baptism as a sign and a seal of the covenant of grace] obviously limits Presbyterian sacramental theology from the Catholic notion that baptism works of itself (ex opere operato), but it also moves beyond even the more substantive levels of Baptist theology. Notice here a fine, but important, distinction between the theology of Presbyterians and that of Baptists: Baptists understand baptism to be symbolic—a kind of pronouncement of something already accomplished in the life of the baptized. Presbyterians, on the other hand, believe that baptism points the candidate to what God promises to accomplish through faith, which is the reality behind the sign. For Presbyterians, “the efficacy of baptism is prospective,”1 but for Baptists, the efficacy of baptism is retrospective. This aspect of Presbyterian theology is behind the Westminster Confession of Faith statement that “The efficacy of baptism is not tied to that moment of time wherein it is administered,”2 and it plays a significant role in justifying the practice of infant baptism.

The paper is nothing earth-shattering, but I did spend a lot of time on it. So, if you would like a copy, let me know through e-mail or a comment, and I will be more than happy to send it to you.

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1-William B. Evans, “'Really Exhibited and Conferred...in His Appointed Time': Baptism and the New Reformed Sacramentalism,” in The Presbyterion 31:2 (Fall 2005): 88, my emphasis.
2-WCF, 28.6

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Because of the brilliant suggestion my good friend made, I have posted the paper on Google Docs. There are some minor formatting issues, but the text is now available to any who wish to see it. Just remember my disclaimer: it's nothing earth-shattering.

Labels: Baptism, Bible, Church, Life, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 7:08 AM | Permalink | Comments

Should we consider the sayings and the parables of Jesus in the gospels as the Wisdom Literature of the New Testament? How are those two categories different?

Labels: Bible, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 5:47 AM | Permalink | Comments

Lately I've been thinking a fair amount about what is referred to as the "Cultural Mandate" in scripture. Nancy Pearcey summarizes it well in her book Total Truth. She writes,

In Genesis, God gives what we might call the first job description: "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it." The first phrase, "be fruitful and multiply" means to develop the social world: build families, churches, schools, cities, governments, laws. The second phrase, "subdue the earth," means to harness the natural world: plant crops, build bridges, design computers, compose music. This passage is sometimes called the Cultural Mandate because it tells us that our original purpose was to create cultures, build civilizations-nothing less.

On this view, which is commonly tied to covenant theology, the Cultural Mandate given to Adam and Eve before the Fall applies in the same way to us today and becomes our motivation for honoring God through work in all disciplines and areas of life. The gospel then is more than simply personal salvation. Justification and redemption from sin is the important entry point for humans into new life and kingdom work, which seeks to bring redemption to bear on every aspect of creation.

This view clashes with a large segment of contemporary evangelical thought, especially of the dispensational variety, which rejects the existence of a Cultural Mandate (at least as applying to the church), and instead views evangelism and personal holiness as the only tasks of real value in this life. Our only goal on earth, according to this understanding, is to save as many people as possible and pursue holiness until Christ returns, when he (in the views of many evangelical Christians) destroys the old world and creates a new one. Any attempt at "culture building" or realizing the redemption of creation is ultimately futile because nothing will last except souls.*

In some ways, the two aren't so different. Adherents of both views should pursue evangelism, and even those who reject the Cultural Mandate often say that Christians can enjoy the created world, work, and pursue cultural activity, so long as it never overshadows the real work of evangelism. Still, the difference is extremely important. If the covenantal view is correct, then by focusing only on evangelism, Christians are ignoring a very large part of their responsibilities on earth. If the dispensational view is correct, Christians who pursue a cultural mandate are wasting their time with things that ultimately won't matter in eternity and distracting themselves from the real responsibility of evangelism and discipleship. Clearly, then, there's a lot at stake in how we see our responsibilities.

I've been thinking about both views in light of scriptural references to the last days, specifically Romans 8 and 2 Peter 3. At first glance, the passages seem to contradict one another. Romans 8 stresses the continuity between old creation and new creation, stating that "creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God" (v. 21). This seems to fit well with covenantal view that God will bring redemption to existing creation. 2 Peter 3, on the other hand, stresses discontinuity between old and new creation, saying that "the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodies will be burned up and dissolved" (v. 10). So the question is, while God destroy or renew creation on the day of judgment. The question is an important one because a renewal or restoration of creation fits better with the Cultural Mandate, while the ultimate destruction of creation and all of culture seems to make the Cultural Mandate senseless. A few thoughts on interpreting these passages:

• I think Romans 8 should control our reading of 2 Peter 3. Verse 23 of Romans 8 makes it clear that we as humans receive the "redemption of our bodies" as a forerunner of the redemption of all creation. When God redeems us, he does not annihilate his original creation, but purifies it of sin and the effects of the fall. Our resurrection bodies will be different, but still maintain continuity with our present bodies (as did Jesus's). The same is true, I think, of the larger creation.
  
• 2 Peter 3 is written in response to those who deny the second coming and any change in creation. Therefore, Peter is rightly stressing one side of the Day of the Lord: judgment by God and radical discontinuity with the fallen-ness of creation upon his return. This fits with OT imagery of the Day of the Lord being a violent one of judgment and purgation.
• Peter compares this final judgment by fire with Noah's flood. The flood, while creating discontinuity, did not destroy the original creation, but merely changed much of it. I think this gives us a reason to see the final judgment with fire in the same way.

If you haven't guessed by now, I stand pretty firmly in support of the Cultural Mandate. Based on my covenant understanding of scripture, I see no reason why the command to cultivate a culture glorifying to God would not apply to Christians in the 21st century. Rather, I see the church as renewed people taking part in the "birth pains" of this new creation that will be fully and finally achieved upon Christ's return. In addition, the Cultural Mandate simply presents a fuller, more coherent view of redemptive history. God's original creation was good and we still celebrate that goodness because it glorifies God, while working toward and longing for the day when all of creation will be set free from the effects of the Fall.

The danger for me, however, is to use the Cultural Mandate as an excuse to ignore evangelism or discipleship, pursuing the cultivation of historiography or the arts at the expense of seeking to bring salvation and sanctification to lost people. While different Christians have different tasks to accomplish, we are all still called to evangelism, discipleship, and personal holiness. The most God-exalting vision places both the Cultural Mandate and the Great Commission in a wonderful balance, seeking to build a God-glorifying culture populated by an ever-growing number of renewed humans, eagerly awaiting Christ's return.

*I call this is the "fire escape mentality." The world is burning up, going under, and our only task to get as many people as possible out of it onto the "fire escape" (personal salvation).

Labels: Bible, Nature, Theology

Posted by andrew at 4:20 PM | Permalink | Comments

When I was in elementary school, I was involved in AWANA, which is something like an Arminian, Dispensationalist, Christian version of the Boy Scouts. Every year, we had a handbook that we tried to work through, and we earned patches and awards and stuff for memorizing Bible verses and completing projects out of that handbook.

One year, I finished my handbook a little early, and, to be productive, I opted to take written tests over what I had learned that year. One of the questions was a multiple choice that said, "Christ died for _________." After some long thought, I marked "those who put their faith in him." Instead, the answer was supposed to be "the whole world."

When I talked to my AWANA leader about it, I explained, "Well, it only works for those who believe," but she didn't budge. Interestingly, I never really heard about Calvinism until I was a senior in high school, and I didn't come to accept the doctrine of Limited Atonement until late in my junior year of college, but only after I believed in the other four points of Calvinism.

Funny what kids learn by memorizing Bible verses.

Labels: Bible, Life, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 9:59 PM | Permalink | Comments

If you read this blog often, of if you know me (actually, I suppose that the only people who read this blog are those who know me), you know that I have only recently come to believe that God intends for Christians to baptize their infants. Before November 15, the date of my "conversion" on this matter, I was a committed Baptist for about a year. Before that, I wrestled with the arguments for and against infant baptism over the course of another year.

During the two years when I was agnostic on this, and then when I was a Baptist, I largely dismissed the relevancy of the household baptism accounts that we read in the book of Acts. Essentially, I considered that both sides were arguing from silence, because I processed the debate in terms of whether infants were actually present or not. So, I assumed that the paedobaptists were arguing, "Surely there must have been an infant at one of those household baptisms!" And, of course, there is no Bible verse that says, "And then they baptized all of so-and-so's household, which, by the way, included one infant." Because this is an argument from silence (which Baptists are quick to point out), I felt that the evidence from household baptisms was irrelevant at worst and inconclusive at best.

Only after I became a paedobaptist (which happened for different theological reasons) did I come to the realization that I had completely misunderstood the terms of the debate--in fact, I was shocked to find out that I had been dealing with a credobaptist caricature of the paedobaptist arguments from household baptisms. My error was that I did not understand that paedobaptists were arguing from the definition of the word "household."

When Luke wrote the book of Acts, he didn't just pick a word out at random to describe how the early church administered the sacrament of baptism. "Household" is a word with a long history among God's people. Specifically, God had told Abraham to circumcise all those who were born in his "house." Even in the New Testament, there is every reason to believe that one's "household" included that person's children (see 1 Tim. 3:4-5).

If Luke had intended to speak of baptism in a way to exclude the infants of believers, wouldn't it be counterproductive to use the word "household" in reference to those who were baptized? How could that not have caused incredible misunderstanding in the early church, since the natural understanding of "household baptism" would mean baptizing one's infants, since "household circumcision" had always meant circumcising one's infants?

More pertinently, why don't we read anything about such a misunderstanding--and about the apostles' correction of this misunderstanding!--in the book of Acts or in early church history documents?

Even if I don't completely understand the theology behind infant baptism (I'm still working through a lot of issues), I think that the mention of household baptisms in the book of Acts is the "smoking gun" that puts the weight of evidence largely on the side of paedobaptism. Far from being irrelevant or inconclusive, the accounts of household baptisms have become one of the biggest factors in my being a Presbyterian.

Labels: Baptism, Bible, Church, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 7:23 AM | Permalink | Comments

For whatever reason, I have always been disinclined to consider anyone living today as an "apostle" in the biblical sense. I suppose my main concern lies in the Catholic idea that every pope has apostolic authority, equal to Jesus' twelve disciples (minus Judas, plus Matthias), Paul, and Barnabas (see Acts 14:14). Instead, as a traditional Protestant (unless, of course, I have always misunderstood what it would mean to be a "traditional Protestant"), I have always understood the things in the Bible relating to the apostles--especially the "apostles' teaching" of Acts 2:42--as being specifically related to the apostles who lived in the first century. In other words, I have believed that no one has been an apostle since those fourteen apostles died out.

I am currently rethinking that understanding based on Ephesians 4:11-16, where Paul lists four offices that Jesus gave to the church "to equip the saints for the work of ministry...": apostles, prophets, evangelists, and pastor-teachers. Of course, few have any problem considering evangelists and pastor-teachers as legitimate offices in the church today, but what about the prophets and the apostles?

Most Protestants (especially the Puritans and their descendants) would say that anyone who proclaims the word of the Lord--that is, anyone who preaches the Scriptures--should be considered a modern prophet. This doesn't mean that preachers are getting new revelations from God (as did Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, Jeremiah, etc...), but that the office of the prophet is now taken up by proclaiming the message of God's word given to his Church in the Bible. Christians of a more Charismatic bent might argue for an understanding of prophecy that includes personal revelations from God (i.e., revelations for individuals or for a single church, but not for the entire Church of Jesus Christ), but I don't think that such an understanding of "prophecy" is necessary for thinking that God still gives his church "prophets."

So what about apostles? My recent thinking has followed an analogous path to my understanding of prophets and prophecy: although there are not any apostles with the same level of authority that Paul or Barnabas or the Twelve had, we might still consider those who stand in the tradition of the earliest apostles to be modern apostles. So, we can possibly consider missionaries and church planters--those whom God gives the spiritual authority to begin a church--as apostles, even if we deny that they have authority over the entire Church in the way that the earliest apostles had that kind of authority.

Modern prophets, then, do not stand upon their own authority to proclaim new messages from God, but rather, they stand upon the authority of the original prophets and proclaim the (old) messages that God gave those prophets. Similarly, modern apostles would not be sent out ("apostle" means "someone sent forth/out") to lay the foundation for a radically new work of God, but would stand in the authority of the first apostles and continue their work.

This, I think, gives us (or at least me) a good understanding of the offices of the church in a way that draws a clear distinction between modern apostles and the original apostles, but that also makes what Scripture teaches about apostleship relevant to Christians living today.

Labels: Bible, Church, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 7:01 AM | Permalink | Comments

This morning, I visited Briarwood Presbyterian Church, the founding church of the PCA denomination. It was a bit too big for my taste, but it was a wonderful church. I was privileged to see the sign of the New Covenant given to three more covenant infants, and, for the first time in my life, I sang the Gloria Patri (I'm 22 years old--how sad is it that I've never sung that before now?).

The sermon was on Psalm 1:4: "The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away." Of course, the pastor preached that verse in the context of the entire psalm. He mainly emphasized, though, the utter foolishness of living a life that amounts to being the chaff that will be blown away and burned.

I thought the sermon was a wonderful example of what I urged in my last post, because he did not merely preach that Christianity is correct (though it certainly is that), but that it is wise. Those who delight in the law of the LORD are firmly planted like trees by a river, whose leaves and fruit are constantly in season, prospering in all they do. With the five short words "The wicked are not so" (three words in the Hebrew) the psalmist declares that the wicked will never know the joy and abundance and prosperity of the righteousness; rather, the wicked will be worthless, fruitless, desolate, and blown away.

The pastor did not appeal to pithy apologetics, nor did he attempt to lay out an elaborate, precisely accurate theological explanation for what he was saying. He simply commended the utter wisdom of living a life according to the fear of the LORD, meditating constantly on the law (the Hebrew word "torah" = instruction) of the LORD. Then, he exposed the depraved foolishness of living a life of seeking the council of the wicked, of standing in the way of sinners, and of sitting among scoffers. One way of living leads to a truly abundant and prosperous life; the other leads to worthlessness and death.

Please do not misunderstand me--apologetics and theology have their place, and a very important place at that. Their place, though, should propel us to live wholeheartedly in the fear of the LORD, delighting fully in the instruction for living that God gives us. Unless the intellectual aspect of our studies pushes us into virtuous, wise living, it is worthless.

My point is not that we should quit studying, but that we should be ever aware of God's goal for our studying: wise, fruitful, and prosperous living. What we study should convince us further of our great need for Jesus Christ and make it all the easier for us to entrust our lives to him more completely.

Labels: Alabama, Baptism, Bible, Church, Life, Philosophy, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 10:50 AM | Permalink | Comments

This summer, I read the book Biblical Interpretation: Past and Present by Gerald Bray (incidentally, Dr. Bray was my professor this January for my Puritan Spirituality class). This line, more than any other in the book, has had me thinking since I read it:

The modern tendency to regard Proverbs as a collection of useful but rather boring advice, Ecclesiastes as the work of a jaded humanist and the Song of Songs as a piece of erotica shows how little the Wisdom tradition is understood or appreciated nowadays, in sharp contrast to earlier times, when these three books were regarded as among the choicest in the whole Scripture. Literal interpretation has removed these books from everyday church use, and they have almost ceased to be a part of the canon for all practical purposes. (p. 160)

So, what should we make of the Wisdom Literature that God gave to his people?

As I have been thinking about this, I have been wondering if we Christians are too interested in a narrow conception of "truth." When modernism rolled onto the scene, claiming scientific ability to get to the bottom of every mystery in the universe, its first task was to rid the world of "superstitious" things like Christianity. So, we Christians responded in kind: we began to direct much research toward rationalistic fields such as textual criticism (trying to get the Hebrew and Greek texts as close to the originals as possible), archaeology (trying to get definitive proof that biblical events happened in just the way that biblical writers portrayed them), and apologetics (trying to use logic and reason to demonstrate the truth of Christianity, essentially beating the scientific naturalists at their own game).

Now, these things are all good in themselves, and we have made tremendous advances in these fields. The problem, though, is that Christianity now tends toward being an intellectual, scientific philosophy rather than being a life built upon the fear of the Lord through the person and work of Jesus Christ. So, when we evangelize, we often (consciously or unconsciously) try merely to persuade people of a certain number of facts about God and about Jesus. When we make disciples out of our converts, we generally try to stuff them with Christian information.

Of course, I would be a fool if I said that I were the first to point this out. Many have become so disillusioned with this intellectual-only approach to Christianity that they have rejected the intellectual part altogether and insisted that Christianity is totally about "relationships," both with God and with other people--these are the postmoderns and the emergents. In response, some Christians have reacted by an even greater emphasis on biblical exegesis, theology, and teaching-heavy preaching. I find myself in the latter category.

But what of wisdom? In my Old Testament Survey textbook, in the section on the book of Job, John Walton writes:

An interesting contrast of focus can also be seen in modern lists of God's attributes. They often emphasize omniscience (knowing everything) instead of infinite wisdom. They tend to focus on omnipotence (being all-powerful) perhaps at the expense of sovereignty (control and maintenance). (p. 338-39)

I wonder if both intellectual, modernistic Christians as well as relational, postmodern Christians need to grow in their understanding of God's wisdom. Instead of trying to evangelize and disciple so that people merely give their intellectual assent to Christian theology, or instead of trying to reduce Christianity to its lowest common denominator, we Christians should give a renewed emphasis to our study and interpretation of Wisdom Literature.

I am becoming increasingly persuaded that one of our biggest needs as a Church is to seek Jesus Christ in order to gain wisdom rather than facts, virtue instead of narrow dogmatism, and the fear of the Lord instead of flawless theology. This doesn't devalue truth, but rather heightens its value because it puts truth in its right context. Furthermore, this doesn't devalue relationships, but finally gives us a framework within which we might understand what exactly our relationships should look like.

So, instead of doing yet another scientific study of the book of Romans or a fuzzy reflection on Jesus' friendships in the gospels, let's read and study and pray through Job, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs. We might not only discover why the early Church and the Old Testament Hebrews were so enamored with these books, but we also might come to know God in ways in which we find ourselves desperately lacking.

Labels: Bible, Books, Church, Philosophy, Seminary, Theology

Posted by Jacob at 8:26 AM | Permalink | Comments