The Johannine Epistles

There is no shortage of excellent commentaries on the Johannine epistles, both more technical studies on the Greek text and those designed for readers of English only. So let's begin. I'll start with the more substantive works, move to mid-level treatments, and then mention a few that are more collections of sermons on John's letters than commentaries.

The best commentary on these three letters has yet to appear. D. A. Carson is writing on the Johannine epistles for the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans). I haven't heard when it will be released, but it will undoubtedly prove to be the best available treatment. Keep an eye open for it and get it!

In the meantime, there are several other extremely helpful treatments of the Greek text that are within the range of the average pastor who reads only English. Just a few months ago Robert W. Yarbrough's, 1-3 John, in the Baker Exegetical Commentary series was released (Baker, 2008, 434 pp.). I've not had the opportunity to look at it in detail, but this will probably prove to be the best treatment of the original text until Carson is published.

Two more, very good and substantial volumes are those by Colin G. Kruse, The Letters of John, in the Pillar series (Eerdmans, 2000, 255 pp.), and Stephen S. Smalley in the Word Biblical Commentary (Word Books, 1984, 386 pp.). On occasion I found Kruse to be too brief. Smalley, in my opinion, is the better of the two. Raymond E. Brown, The Epistles of John, The Anchor Bible (Doubleday, 1982, 812 pp.) is a massive work that often has profound insights. He doesn't believe the author of the Johannine epistles is the author of the fourth gospel, but there's simply too much good material in this volume to neglect it. Donald W. Burdick, The Letters of John the Apostle: An In-Depth Commentary (Moody Press, 1985, 488 pp.), interacts extensively with the Greek text, but if you've got Yarbrough, Smalley, and eventually Carson you may want to bypass it.

There are three mid-level works that every pastor should have in his library. John R. W. Stott, The Epistles of John in The Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (Eerdmans, 1976 [1964], 230 pp.) is my favorite. Be sure you get the Revised edition that was released in 1988 and reprinted in 1996 (234 pp.). Of all the commentaries on the NT that Stott has written, this is his best. Don't even think about teaching through 1 John without reading it carefully.

I. Howard Marshall, The Epistles of John in the New International Commentary on the New Testament (Eerdmans, 1978, 274 pp.) is also very good. As you probably know, Marshall believes a born-again believer can apostatize from the faith and suffer the loss of salvation, and occasionally this negatively affects his exegesis. But it is still worthy of your time. The best treatment of the English text is by Gary M. Burge in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1996, 264 pp.). When I taught 1 John I used Burge as the required text. It is theologically insightful and great on contemporary application.

Although they are rather dated, two other treatments are worth consulting. F. F. Bruce, The Epistles of John (Eerdmans, 1970), was one of the first commentaries on John's letters that I read and I always found him helpful. Robert Law, The Tests of Life: A Study of the First Epistle of St. John (T & T Clark, 1914; reprinted by Baker Book House in 1968), reflects the understanding that John is setting forth three "tests" by which one may know if he/she is saved and was highly influential in Stott's approach to the epistles.

There are two collections of sermons on the epistles that will prove helpful to the pastor: James Montgomery Boice, The Epistles of John (Zondervan, 1979), and Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Life in God: Studies in 1 John (Crossway, 1995; five volumes).

If I were planning on preaching through John's letters for the first time, I'd obtain, in order of preference, Carson (when it becomes available), Stott, Yarbrough, Marshall, Smalley, Burge, and perhaps Kruse.

We're almost done. Only Revelation remains.

James, 1-2 Peter, and Jude

James is again one of those books that I preached through twice early in my pastoral ministry but have not spent time studying in recent years.

The commentaries that helped me most my first time through were James B. Adamson, The Epistle of James in the New International Commentary on the New Testament (Eerdmans, 1976, 227), Sophie Laws, A Commentary on the Epistle of James in Harper's New Testament Commentaries (Harper & Row, 1980, 273 pp.), D. Edmond Hiebert, The Epistle of James: Tests of a Living Faith (Moody Press, 1979, 354 pp.), and Peter H. Davids, The Epistle of James NIGTC (Eerdmans, 1982, 226 pp.). One other very helpful treatment, now out of print, was the slender volume by Leslie Mitton. If you can find it used, get it.

Two more recent commentaries are probably the first you should purchase. Ralph P. Martin has written for the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1988, 240 pp.), and Douglas J. Moo for the Pillar series (Eerdmans, 2000, 271 pp.). Moo, as always, is the best, but unfortunately only 204 pages of the 271 total are devoted to commentary.

If I were to preach through James again today I'd start with Moo, Martin, and Davids, and devote time also to reading through Mitton.

I'm happy to say that there is certainly no shortage of excellent works on 1 Peter. My joy is due to the fact that beginning January 4, 2009, I will be preaching through 1 Peter at Bridgeway Church here in Oklahoma City (all sermons, by the way, will be available via Podcast on our church website, www.bridgewaychurch.com).

Thus far I can say with some measure of confidence that the best evangelical treatment of 1 Peter is Thomas R. Schreiner, 1, 2 Peter, Jude in The New American Commentary (Broadman & Holman, 2003, 512 pp.). My only regret is that of the 512 pages only 203 are devoted to actual commentary on 1 Peter. But Tom is so good that even when he speaks briefly he speaks with profound insight.

Close behind Schreiner is J. Ramsey Michaels in the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1988, 337 pp.), although he is inclined to date the epistle toward the close of the first century. I had very high hopes for Karen H. Jobes in the Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 2005, 364 pp.) when it was first released. But when I discovered that she devoted less than a page of study to 1 Peter 1:8 (one of the most profoundly influential texts in my life), my anticipation turned to disappointment. I hope my feelings about her contribution will change in the weeks and months ahead.

Another very helpful, moderately technical, treatment is Peter H. Davids, The First Epistle of Peter NICNT (Eerdmans, 1990, 266 pp.). I have to point out, yet again, that only 161 pages are devoted to actual commentary (in case you hadn't noticed the trend, often times scholars spend more space on introductory matters, seemingly endless bibliographies, together with lengthy appendices of all sorts than they do interacting with the text itself).

Scot McKnight has written an excellent treatment of 1 Peter in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1996, 295 pp.). However, he largely embraces John Elliott's thesis that "aliens and strangers" or "sojourners and exiles" is not so much a metaphorical reference to the audience's earthly existence as they await the true home of heaven as it is a literal description of their social status as marginalized, disenfranchised workers who lived without rights in a land where they lacked the benefits of citizenship. This thesis is developed at considerable length in the massive work by Elliott in the Anchor Bible series (Doubleday, 2000, 956 pp.). Nearly 275 pages of Elliott's volume are something other than commentary, but that still leaves him with over 675 pages of insightful treatment of the text.

The most recent work on Peter is Ben Witherington III, Letters and Homilies for Hellenized Christians: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on 1-2 Peter (IVP, 2007, 432 pp.). I've only read the Introduction in which Witherington breaks rank from modern scholarly consensus and argues at length for the Jewish identity of Peter's audience. Most believe Peter was writing to converted Gentiles.

The best mid-level commentary is Wayne A. Grudem, The First Epistle of Peter: Introduction and Commentary in the Tyndale New Testament Commentaries series (IVP, 1988, 239 pp.). This series is short by design, so that aside from the 36 page appendix on Christ's proclamation to the "spirits in prison" (1 Peter 3:18-22) there are only 155 of commentary. Still, Grudem is extremely helpful in terms of theological synthesis. I don't own it, but I've read good things about I. Howard Marshall's short commentary in the IVP New Testament Commentary series (IVP, 1990). Carson describes it as "superb".

It ought to be fairly clear where I think most pastors should begin. If you have Schreiner, Michaels, Davids, McKnight, and Grudem, you are well on your way to gaining a good grasp of this important NT epistle.

As for 2 Peter and Jude, Schreiner is the place to start, although it's hard to put him above Richard Bauckham who wrote for the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1983, 357 pp.). You should be forewarned that Bauckham denies that Peter wrote the second epistle that bears his name. His commentary on Jude in this volume is the best! Doug Moo in the NIV Application commentary series (Zondervan, 1996, 316 pp.) will be the work of choice for those who struggle with Greek.

Subsequent to the release of Carson's commentary survey, two technical and very good commentaries on 2 Peter - Jude have become available, both of which incline toward affirming Petrine authorship of the epistle. Peter H. Davids has written for the Pillar series (Eerdmans, 2006, 348 pp.) and Gene Green, of Wheaton College, has written for the Baker Exegetical series (Baker, 2008, 420 pp.). And if you are preaching through Jude, don't forget to get hold of Thomas Manton, in any one of several reprinted editions.

Sam

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (10)

Hebrews and Philemon

I feel genuinely inadequate to recommend much on the book of Hebrews, if only because it has been nearly twenty years since I preached through the book and I've not kept up with the literature as much as I have with other books of the New Testament. Still, though, I'll give it my best shot.

Two works served me well when I worked through Hebrews and I still believe they are worth obtaining today, even though more substantial exegetical treatments have appeared. F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews, in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Eerdmans, 1964, 447 pp.), is one of his better works. It is filled with excellent exegetical insights and is a must read for all pastors intent on preaching or teaching through the book.

I also have a fond affection for Philip Edgcumbe Hughes, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (Eerdmans, 1977, 623 pp.). It is not as exegetically oriented as Bruce but is far more theologically substantive. I've read and re-read Hughes over the years and still profit immensely from his insights.

Although I've not read much in these next few works, they appear to be quite good. The first worthy of mention is the two volume set by William L. Lane in the Word Biblical Commentary Series (Word Books, 1991, 617 pp.). I can recommend Lane based solely on my very positive experience with his commentary on Mark. I've also heard good things about Paul Ellingworth's volume in the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 1993, 764 pp.). This looks to be the most helpful treatment of the Greek text of Hebrews. Craig R. Koester in the Anchor Bible Series (Doubleday, 2001, 604 pp.) and George Guthrie in the NIV Application series are also worth obtaining.

Before I leave Hebrews, I should mention two works about which I was unaware until reading of them in Carson's commentary review. Peter T. O'Brien is writing on Hebrews for the Pillar series (which Carson edits). Given the superb nature of all his other commentaries, I venture to speculate that this will immediately become the evangelical standard upon its release. Carson also points out that R. T. France has written on Hebrews in the revised edition (2006) of the Expositor's Bible Commentary published by Zondervan. I've never been disappointed by France's commentaries and I trust that this too, although necessarily brief, will prove immensely helpful.

Studies on the short book of Philemon are usually bound up with commentaries on Colossians. My recommendation of the works by Moo, Harris, Dunn, Bruce (in the revised volume in NICNT), O'Brien, and Garland, will serve you well on Philemon. There is one rather unusual volume that is certainly worthy of a look. It is unusual because it devotes 561 pages to this tiny NT epistle, 240 of which constitute the Introduction alone! It is the collaborate effort of Markus Barth and Helmut Blanke in the Eerdmans Critical Commentary series (Eerdmans, 2000). It's hard for me to imagine anyone reading 561 pages to preach on twenty-five verses, but God bless you for your commitment and perseverance if you do!

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (9)

1-2 Thessalonians and the Pastoral Epistles

When I preached through First and Second Thessalonians in the late 70's and early 80's there was very little to draw from. That is no longer the case, as we've seen several excellent studies appear in the last fifteen to twenty years.

I was teaching at Wheaton during the time that two of my colleagues were both writing commentaries on the Thessalonian epistles and they top the list of my recommendations. Gene Green has written the longer and more technical of the two for the Pillar series (Eerdmans, 2002, 400 pp.), but I actually prefer G. K. Beale's contribution to The IVP New Testament Commentary Series (IVP, 2003, 279 pp.). Beale is especially good in dealing with texts on eschatological themes.

The most helpful treatment of the Greek text is by Charles A. Wanamaker, The Epistles to the Thessalonians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Eerdmans, 1990, 316 pp.), although I've only read him on selected passages. Always good and solid is the older work by F. F. Bruce in the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1982, 228 pp.).

There are five good treatments for those not trained in Greek, three of which I used extensively when I preached through these epistles. Leon Morris has written for the New International Commentary on the New Testament (Eerdmans, 1973 [1959], 274 pp.). He's not exciting to read, but he's always a good conservative guide. Although Arminian in approach, I. Howard Marshall has written a helpful volume in The New Century Bible Commentary series (Eerdmans, 1983, 240 pp.). I also found quite helpful the work by D. Edmond Hiebert, The Thessalonian Epistles: A Call to Readiness (Moody Press, 1971, 383 pp.), although beware of his dispensational, pretribulational reading of the eschatological texts.

Two more recent works on the English text that I haven't looked at closely are John Stott, The Gospel & The End of Time: The Message of 1 & 2 Thessalonians (IVP, 1991, 220 pp.), and Michael W. Holmes in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1998, 302 pp.).

So, the bottom line is this: begin with Beale, Green, and Wanamaker, and look to Stott for helpful pastoral and practical insights.

The Pastoral Epistles (1-2 Timothy, Titus) were for a long time much neglected by scholars. I'm happy to say that is no longer the case. We now have several, quite substantive, commentaries that are worthy of recommendation.

First on my list is the technical but extremely readable work by William D. Mounce in the Word Biblical Commentary series (Thomas Nelson Publishers, 2000, 641 pp.). Mounce provides an excellent discussion of the controversial text on women in ministry and responds at length to egalitarian arguments. Running a close second to Mounce is George W. Knight, III, in the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 1992, 514 pp.).

Equally committed to analysis of the Greek text and every bit as substantive are the commentaries by I. Howard Marshall in the ICC series (T & T Clark, 1999, 869 pp.) and Philip H. Towner in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Eerdmans, 2006, 886 pp.). Both Marshall and Towner explain (away) Paul's prohibition on women teaching and exercising authority over men by arguing that the problem was a local and limited issue of wealthy women assuming a dominant teaching role in which elements of both theological heresy and an over-realized eschatology were found. Be alerted that Marshall also denies Pauline authorship of the Pastorals. Another massive work on the pastorals that I've not yet examined is the combined work of Jerome D. Quinn and William C. Wacker in The Eerdmans Critical Commentary (Eerdmans, 2000, 918 pp.).

Three less technical but helpful treatments of the English text are John Stott, Guard the Truth: The Message of 1 Timothy & Titus (IVP, 1996, 232 pp.; this includes a helpful study guide for each epistle), J. N. D. Kelly, A Commentary on the Pastoral Epistles (A & C Black, 1963, 264 pp.), and Walter L. Liefeld in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1999, 378 pp.). Not a commentary, but still quite good, is the shorter work by George Knight, The Faithful Sayings in the Pastoral Epistles (Baker, 1979, 167 pp.).

For the ordinary pastor, the size of one's book budget comes into play in making choices about commentaries for the Pastorals. Mounce and Knight are necessities, and I'm inclined to put Marshall in that category. I may come to that conclusion concerning Towner once I've delved into it more deeply. Once again, get Stott for the obvious reasons.

Sam

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (8)

Philippians and Colossians

The good news is that both Philippians and Colossians have been blessed with excellent works in recent years. The bad news is that the average pastor on a limited budget will have to make some hard choices when browsing turns to buying. Let's start with Philippians.

It's been over twenty years since I preached through Philippians. Among the works available at that time, none compared with Gerald F. Hawthorne in the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1983, 232 pp.). Although I deeply disagree with his interpretation of Philippians 2:12-13 (he believes the exhortation is corporate and not intended for the individual believer), this is an excellent treatment of the letter that every pastor should own.

Hawthorne has in a number of ways been surpassed by the appearance of commentaries by Peter O'Brien and Gordon Fee. O'Brien has written for the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 1991, 597 pp.) and has provided us with what is arguably the very best commentary on this letter (very similar in style and substance to his work on Ephesians in the Pillar series). Fee's contribution in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series is superb as well (Eerdmans, 1995, 497 pp.). If the combined effect of these three fails to satisfy your exegetical hunger, you can find more help in Moises Silva, Philippians, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 2005, 248 pp.). Be sure you get the Second Edition of Silva's work.

There are three, shorter, works on the English text. I found especially helpful The Message of Philippians by Alec Motyer in The Bible Speaks Today series (IVP, 1984, 234 pp.). Also useful is the NIV Application commentary by Frank Thielman (Zondervan, 1995, 256 pp.). Finally, although very brief (124 pp.), Basics for Believers: An Exposition of Philippians (Baker, 1996), by D. A. Carson is quite good for illustrative help and contemporary application.

If you obtain O'Brien, Hawthorne, and Fee, you will be well set for study of this Pauline epistle.

I'm a bit more familiar with recent literature on Colossians, having published only a year ago The Hope of Glory: 100 Daily Meditations on Colossians (Crossway, 2007, 362 pp.). Although not technically a commentary, I think you'll find it helpful for theological and practical insights into Paul's argument.

It seems as if I keep coming back to Peter O'Brien when talking about the Pauline literature. He has again written one of the better commentaries on Colossians in the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1982, 328 pp.). Unfortunately, the new commentary by Douglas J. Moo came out too late for me to use in my book, but from everything I've read in it this definitely has become the new gold standard in Colossians studies (Eerdmans, 2008, 471 pp.). Moo has written on Colossians and Philemon for the Pillar series.

This next recommendation is solely for those pastors who are serious about grappling with the Greek text of Colossians. Murray J. Harris wrote the inaugural (and as far as I can tell, the only) volume in the Exegetical Guide to the Greek New Testament (Eerdmans, 1991, 310 pp.; can anyone tell me if subsequent volumes in this series have been released?). This is not a commentary per se, but focuses on virtually every grammatical issue and important interpretive option in Colossians and Philemon. I can't recommend it too highly, especially for the pastor who has lost his facility in the original text and is committed to regaining it.

James D. G. Dunn has done a good job on Colossians and Philemon for the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 1996, 388 pp.), but if you have O'Brien, Moo, and Harris, I don't think you'll find it necessary. The NIV Application volume (Zondervan, 1998, 389 pp.) by David Garland is very helpful on the English text.

I'm probably somewhat alone in this final evaluation, but I did not enjoy or profit from Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire (IVP, 2004, 256 pp.), by Brian J. Walsh and Sylvia C. Keesmaat. In fact, I was consistently annoyed by it. I couldn't help but get the impression that they had a previously formulated political agenda and turned to Colossians to find (unsuccessfully, in my opinion) biblical support for it. If you are persuaded, as they are, that western capitalism and American foreign policy are largely responsible for the ills of our society and those of the world at large, you will probably enjoy this book. But don't buy it. I'll be happy to sell you mine (pressure me, and I might even give it away!).

Sam

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (7)

Galatians and Ephesians

Like 1 Corinthians, I've never preached all the way through Galatians. My familiarity with the literature, therefore, is limited. Typically I've delved into a variety of commentaries while studying particular verses in Galatians and found the following to be most helpful.

I've always found Richard N. Longenecker in the Word Biblical Commentary series to be very good (Word Books, 1990, 323 pp.). Likewise with F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Galatians: A Commentary on the Greek Text (Eerdmans, 1982, 305 pp.).

For those who have a working knowledge of Greek, I highly recommend Moises Silva, Explorations in Exegetical Method: Galatians as a Test Case (Baker 1996 236 pp.). While not technically a commentary, this is an absolutely essential tool for analysis of the Greek text. Silva provides an extremely helpful analysis of the grammar and syntax of Paul in Galatians, as well the literary forms and structure of the epistle, the history of interpretation of the book, its relation to Acts, the controversy over the dating of Galatians, and other important themes, including a section on Pauline theology.

Quite new to Galatian studies is the commentary by Gordon D. Fee, Galatians, in the Pentecostal Commentary Series (deo publishing, 2007, 262pp). Again, I've only dipped my toe in the water, but it felt refreshing! Fee has an especially helpful section addressing the controversial issue of whether pistis Christou is a subjective genitive ("[the] faith[fullness] of Christ"] or an objective genitive ("faith in Christ"). He has persuasive arguments, both exegetical and theological, in favor of the latter (the commentary by Longenecker above views it as subjective).

There are several helpful commentaries on the English text of Galatians. Scot McKnight has written for the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1995, 320 pp.), but beware of his tendency to interpret the "law" in a way that inclines toward the New Perspective on Paul.

The contribution to the NICNT series is by Ronald Y. K. Fung, The Epistle to the Galatians (Eerdmans, 1988 342 pp.) and is a good resource to keep handy. So too is Ben Witherington's, Grace in Galatia: A Commentary on St. Paul's Letter to the Galatians (Eerdmans, 1998, 477 pp.).

Two more pastoral volumes are by Philip Graham Ryken, Galatians (P & R, 2005, 290pp), in the Reformed Expository Commentary series, and Leon Morris, Galatians: Paul's Charter of Christian Freedom (IVP 1996 191 pp.).

My study of Ephesians has been far more extensive, as I've preached through the book twice in past years and taught it several times in a classroom setting.

Before you even think of purchasing anything else on Ephesians, you simply must obtain the commentaries by Peter T. O'Brien and Andrew T. Lincoln. O'Brien's work is in the Pillar series, The Letter to the Ephesians (Eerdmans, 1999, 536 pp.). Although he interacts extensively with the Greek text, the commentary is extremely helpful to all readers. It is solid theologically and O'Brien argues convincingly for Pauline authorship. Lincoln wrote for the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1990, 494 pp.). As with O'Brien, it is technical but still accessible to the English reader. Lincoln denies Pauline authorship, but takes a generally conservative and evangelical approach to the book. Without in any way diminishing the greatness of O'Brien's work, I actually prefer Lincoln when it comes to detailed exegesis.

Two other commentaries are also devoted to an analysis of the original text. Harold Hoehner, one of my former professors at Dallas Seminary, has written a massive book Ephesians: An Exegetical Commentary (Baker, 2002, 930 pp.[!]). I can't read Hoehner without hearing his voice in the classroom, lecturing on Ephesians, back in the mihttp://www.enjoyinggodministries.com/Media/father-factor.jpg's. His grammatical analysis is a bit over-bearing at times and it is occasionally weak on theological insight, but this is still worthy of your consideration.

Ernest Best has written the replacement volume for the ICC series, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Ephesians (T & T Clark, 1998, 686 pp.). As with Lincoln, Best denies Pauline authorship. Another in-depth analysis of Ephesians is Marcus Barth's two-volume work in The Anchor Bible Series (Doubleday & Company, 1974, 849 pp.). Barth is the son of the famous Swiss theologian Karl Barth. Although not always conservative in his interpretations, he is frequently helpful and occasionally offers brilliant insights. Surprisingly (?), Barth affirms Pauline authorship.

As you can see, when it comes to Ephesians, there is no shortage on technical works. O'Brien, Lincoln, and Best should come first in building your library. But keep your eye out for the release of Max Turner's contribution to the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans). I don't know the publication date, but get it!

There are two very good works that focus primarily on the English text. Klyne Snodgrass has written for the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1996, 384 pp.). Snodgrass is a Baptist and an Arminian and has written one of the better volumes in this spotty series. He devotes as much space to application and the contemporary significance of Paul's letter as to exegetical and theological interpretation. Snodgrass favors Pauline authorship.

John R. W. Stott has once again done a great job on The Message of Ephesians: God's New Society (InterVarsity Press, 1979, 311 pp.). As always, Stott is exegetically sound and has excellent illustrations and applications for today's audience.

When I first preached through Ephesians I thoroughly enjoyed John Calvin's, Sermons on the Epistle to the Ephesians (Banner of Truth Trust, 1973 [1562], 705 pp.). His prose isn't the smoothest, but his theological and practical insights are incomparable. Another great resource for the preacher is Martyn Lloyd-Jones's, Exposition of Ephesians, in eight volumes (Baker Book House, n.d.). Lloyd-Jones is verbose but worth the effort it takes to read him. Non-technical but deeply theological.

Two final commentaries on the English text are Leon Morris, Expository Reflections on the Letter to the Ephesians (Baker Book House, 1994). Similar to his reflections on John's gospel, this is a solid work by a solid and spiritual NT scholar. Designed for the English reader, it is less a verse-by-verse commentary and more a collection of theological and sermonic observations. Walter Liefeld has written for the IVP New Testament Commentary Series (IVP, 1997, 178 pp.). Like most of the volumes in this series, comments on the Greek text are kept to the footnotes. The commentary itself is only @ 140 pages in length. It has occasional good insights, but if you purchase only one commentary on the English text, let it be Stott's.

Although not commentaries, two works by Clinton Arnold are worthy of note (and purchase). Powers of Darkness: Principalities and Powers in Paul's Letters (Downers Grove: IVP, 1992) is an easy-to-read treatment of the role of the demonic in Paul's letters. It contains numerous insightful comments on the nature of spiritual warfare, then and now. A somewhat more technical work that focuses on the nature of power and spiritual warfare in Ephesians alone is his Power and Magic: The Concept of Power in Ephesians (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1989, 1992).

Under no circumstances waste your money on E. K. Simpson's volume in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Eerdmans, 1973 [1957]). The only reason you might be tempted to purchase it is because it is bound in one volume with F. F. Bruce's commentary on Colossians. Simpson's prose is elaborate, flowery (is that a word?!), and illustrative (and at times downright annoying), while his exegetical analysis is largely non-existent.

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (6)

1 and 2 Corinthians

Regrettably, I've never preached all the way through 1 Corinthians. I've preached and taught several courses on chapters 12-14, but never the whole book. Still, I've spent some time examining the available literature and can make some recommendations.

The best overall commentary on 1 Corinthians is still Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians, NICNT (Eerdmans, 1987, 880 pp.). Fee's work replaces the volume in this series by F. W. Frosheide (1953, 415 pp.), and not a day too soon! Don't bother purchasing Grosheide. Fee is excellent, although he writes with an agenda to promote his egalitarian views on women in ministry (his treatment of 1 Corinthians 14:33-35 is especially abysmal). Aside from this, his commentary is the first you should purchase.

Running a close second is the very technical work by Anthony C. Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text in the New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 2000, 1446 pp.). Yes, it is very technical and will be a bit too much for those who cannot read Greek. But he is extremely thorough and insightful throughout.

I've only skimmed David E. Garland, 1 Corinthians Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 2003, 870 pp.), but his work is always worth the price. Ben Witherington, III. Conflict and Community in Corinth: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on 1 and 2 Corinthians (Eerdmans, 1995, 492 pp.) is good, especially on 2 Corinthians.

There are three mid-level commentaries that are accessible to all students, the best of which is by Craig Blomberg in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1994, 352 pp.). Craig S. Keener has written 1-2 Corinthians in The New Cambridge Bible Commentary (Cambridge, 2005, 299 pp.), but it is terribly short. This is regrettable, as Keener is always helpful and typically provides a wealth of information for the expositor. In this volume only 122 pages are devoted to commentary on 1 Corinthians and a mere 104 on 2 Corinthians. I'm sure Craig would have preferred it to be otherwise, but the limitations placed on him by the editors of the series left him no choice.

One final work worth a look is by Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians in the Interpretation series (John Knox Press, 1997, 299 pp.). Hays is an incredibly brilliant NT scholar whose works I've enjoyed in other areas of study. I've looked briefly at his commentary and found it helpful. But if you are looking for only one on the English text, get Blomberg.

So, in sum, get Fee, Thiselton, Garland, and Blomberg.

Having just finished writing a book of 100 meditations on 2 Corinthians, I'm obviously much more familiar with resources on this letter.

Standing all alone, in my opinion, in terms of exegetical insights and the exhaustive way in which he handles the text, is Murray J. Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary on the Greek Text, The New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 2005, 989 pp.). Don't be put off by the fact that he interacts extensively with the Greek text. Everyone can profit from this magisterial work. Get it!

Running neck and neck for second place in my library (and heart) are the two volumes in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series. The original contribution was written by Philip E. Hughes, Paul's Second Epistle to the Corinthians (Eerdmans, 1973 [1962], 508 pp.). Some don't appreciate Hughes as much as I do, but when I first preached through 2 Corinthians this was my primary source. The replacement volume, by Paul Barnett, is just as good and in many ways better and more comprehensive: The Second Epistle to the Corinthians (Eerdmans, 1997, 662 pp.). Both of these are deserving of your attention and purchase.

Also very helpful, and somewhat technical, is the Word Biblical Commentary written by Ralph Martin (Word Publishers, 1986, 527 pp.). I frequently found his insights helpful. Although considerably less technical, David Garland has done a great job for the English reader in his contribution to the New American Commentary (Broadman & Holman, 1999, 587 pp.).

Margaret E. Thrall, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, two volumes in the ICC series (T & T Clark, 1994/2000, 977 pp.), is a massive work, but far more critical and less conservative than the others available. If you get Harris, Barnett, and Martin, Thrall can be skipped (and you'll save a lot of money too!).

As for commentaries that were written for those without a knowledge of Greek, there are several good ones. The best by far is Scott J. Hafemann in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 2000, 536 pp.). Scott has probably written the best commentary in this entire series (slightly edging out Moo on Romans and Burge on the Johannine Epistles). His treatment throughout of Paul's perspective on suffering is simply brilliant (and convicting!). Unlike others in this series, his contemporary application is very helpful (those familiar with the structure of the NIV Application commentaries will know what I mean).

I can't recommend Linda Belleville 2 Corinthians, the IVP New Testament Commentary Series (IVP, 1996, 357 pp.), as enthusiastically as Carson does, but it is still worth reading if you have the time. Colin Kruse, The Second Epistle of Paul to the Corinthians, Tyndale New Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 1997), is a good replacement for the occasionally helpful original volume on 2 Corinthians by R. V. G. Tasker (1977).

Finally, no one should preach or teach through 2 Corinthians 10-13 without consulting D. A. Carson's, From Triumphalism to Maturity: An Exposition of 2 Corinthians 10-13 (Baker, 1984, 186 pp.). Yes, it is short, but it is rich and powerful. It has recently been reprinted (2007) under the title, A Model of Christian Maturity.

So again, get Harris, Barnett, Hughes, Hafemann, and Carson.

Blessings!

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (5)

Romans

My first attempt to preach through Romans came in 1974 when I assumed the position of interim pastor at a small Presbyterian church in Dallas. By the time I left that church in 1977 I had only made it through chapter six! I did preach through the entire book during my time at Believers Chapel in Dallas, and have subsequently taught Romans in a classroom setting on several occasions.

If one has any lingering doubts about the attention given to Romans, I encourage you to check out the bibliography in the commentary by Joseph Fitzmyer. He lists more than 500 entries which focus on Pauline themes found in Romans and more than 800 commentaries and monographs from the first century of the church to the present. This does not include what must amount to several thousand periodical (journal) articles on virtually every verse in Romans. And remember: Fitzmyer compiled this list in 1993! In the fifteen years since his commentary was published, one can only guess at the number of works that have appeared.

All this to say that I will try to limit my comments to works with which I'm personally familiar. In the end, I suspect that most pastors' libraries will be filled with more works on Romans than any other biblical book, and rightly so.

My approach will be to mention, first, the most helpful technical treatments of Romans, whether because of their interaction with the Greek text or because of their theological depth. I'll then move on to the best available works written for a popular and English-reading audience.

The first commentary everyone should purchase was written by my former colleague at Wheaton College, Douglas Moo, The Epistle to the Romans (Eerdmans, 1996, 1,012 pp.). This is simply the best exegetical, evangelical commentary available. Most of the more technical material involving comment on the Greek text is restricted to the footnotes. By all means, get it (no matter how much the cost).

Running a close second to Moo is the commentary by John Murray, The Epistle to the Romans, in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1968, 694 pp.). D. A. Carson says that "Murray will guide you stolidly with the heavy tread of the proverbial village policemen (although with more theology; and note especially the useful appendices and notes)." Granted, Murray is sometimes wordy and his style is annoying. But I cut my theological teeth on Murray and his commentary on Romans holds a special place in my heart and head. This is Reformed, theological exegesis at its best, superseding the works of Hodge and Hendriksen. My advice: get it now, before it goes out of print. Moo's commentary has taken the place of Murray in the New International Commentary series.

Thomas Schreiner, Romans, the Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 1998, 919 pp.), is similar in thrust, theologically speaking, to Moo's commentary, although with a slightly more Calvinistic emphasis (the volume is dedicated to John Piper). Schreiner interacts extensively with the Greek text but not in a way that makes it inaccessible to the English reader. Although not as extensive as Fitzmyer's, Schreiner provides the most up-to-date bibliography on Romans available. Highly recommended!

When I preached my way through Romans for the first time, after Murray I turned most frequently to C. E. B. Cranfield's, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on The Epistle to the Romans, 2 vols, ICC series (T. & T. Clark, 1975, 900 pp.). There is nothing quite like Cranfield when it comes to interacting with the Greek text and expounding the interpretive options of a particular verse. No serious student of Romans should be without it. It is expensive (as are all the volumes in the ICC series) but worth the price. Although it is written for the student who knows Greek, anyone can profit from its insights. A revised, one-volume paperback edition (Romans: A Shorter Commentary [Eerdmans, 1985, 388 pp.]) has been issued for those who do not wish to work through the original two-volume work.

I only mention James D. G. Dunn because of his high profile as an advocate of the New Perspective on Paul. His commentary on Romans, 2 volumes in the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1988, 976 pp.) is certainly helpful in places. Dunn is up-to-date with all recent literature on Romans and is exhaustive in treating the Greek text. His perspective is not quite as conservative as I would prefer but he is always challenging. As noted, his view of Romans is shaped by the influence of E. P. Sanders' position on the question of Paul and the law.

There are two more semi-technical works that are worthy of mention, the first of which by Joseph A. Fitzmyer, the Jesuit scholar who also wrote the commentary on Luke for the Anchor Bible series (Doubleday, 1993, 793 pp.). I've only read selected portions of Fitzmyer but found him to be extremely good. I agree with Carson that on occasion he sounds more Reformed than Catholic on the doctrine of justification. Leon Morris has written the commentary on Romans in the Pillar series (Eerdmans, 1988, 578 pp.). Again, I've read about as much in Morris as I have in Fitzmyer. He's always solidly conservative, even if not exciting or innovative in his interpretations (not to suggest that the latter is necessarily a virtue!).

The best treatment of the most difficult chapter in Romans is found in John Piper's The Justification of God: An Exegetical and Theological Study of Romans 9:1-23 (Baker, 1983, 316 pp.). This is an extremely detailed exegetical treatment of this controversial chapter. Those without a working knowledge of Greek will find it hard-going at times, but perseverance pays a rich dividend.

So, when it comes to these more technical works, I would purchase, in order of preference, Moo, Murray, Schreiner, and Cranfield (and, of course, Piper on Romans 9). Now on to several works that are more popular in nature.

Moo has also written on Romans for the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 2000, 532 pp.). If one can endure the structure of this series, this is probably the best treatment of the English text on Romans.

Although less Calvinistic than Moo, I highly recommend John Stott, Romans: God's Good News for the World (IVP, 1994, 432 pp.). Stott is simply brilliant when it comes to relating the text to life. He has also written a popular treatment of Romans 5-8, Men Made New (IVP, 1966, 108 pp.). This isn't deep, but Stott always seems to find a way of expressing basic ideas in a fresh and inspiring way.

Robert Mounce, well-known for his commentary on Revelation in the NICNT series, has written on Romans for The New American Commentary series (Broadman Press, 1995, 301 pp.). This volume on Romans is less technical but successfully traces the flow of Paul's argument. It is good, but at times fails to address in depth some of the more important theological issues.

William Hendriksen, a Dutch Reformed scholar, has written a solid commentary for the English reader, Exposition of Paul's Epistle to the Romans (Baker, 1982, 533 pp.). Although the newer commentaries are more detailed and technical, I often find myself going back to see what Hendricksen said. He is conservative, reliable, and exalts the sovereignty of God's grace in salvation.

Few people these days read or refer to Charles Hodge, Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (Eerdmans, 1974 [1886], 458 pp.), but I really like him. Hodge is representative of the old Princeton school of Reformed theologians. Although more a theologian than an exegete, Hodge will still interact with the text. Although it is over 100 years old, Hodge's work is worth consulting when studying some of the sticky theological issues in Romans.

Of these more popular works, Moo and Stott are definitely worth getting. The others are nice to have, if you can afford them.

There are also two multi-volume sets on Romans that don't technically qualify as commentaries but more as sermon series. They are both extremely helpful to the preacher or anyone who is teaching through Romans in a Bible study or home group setting.

The first is by D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones. His Romans series comes in ten volumes (yes ten!) (Zondervan). Lloyd-Jones, who died in 1981, stands in the theological tradition of Hodge and Hendriksen but, unlike them, was not a cessationist. It's not unusual for him to devote two or three chapters to only two or three verses! Few people will read all ten volumes, but for passion and pastoral insight "the Doctor" is unparalleled.

I also highly recommend the four volume sermon series by James Montgomery Boice, Romans (Baker, 1993-94; Volume 1 - chps. 1-4; Volume 2 - chps. 5-8; Volume 3 - chps. 9-11; Volume 4 - chps. 12-16). Boice, long-time Senior Pastor of Tenth Presbyterian Church in downtown Philadelphia (now deceased), writes from a Reformed (Calvinistic) perspective. Boice does not always develop the flow of argument in Romans but no theological issue is left unaddressed. His illustrations are helpful for preaching. As with Lloyd-Jones, knowledge of NT Greek is not a prerequisite for profiting from Boice's work.

I'm not recommending that the typical pastor purchase these next three volumes, but I should mention them in case you have a special interest in the areas on which they touch.

Karl Barth's, The Epistle to the Romans, transl. by Edwyn C. Hoskyns (Oxford University Press, 1972 [1919; completely re-written for a 2nd edition in 1922], should be noted more for its historical influence than its exegetical or theological insights. Barth (1886-1968) was motivated by several factors, chief of which was the obvious failure of theological liberalism in the face of the outbreak of World War I. He was especially upset when 93 German intellectuals, many of whom were his teachers or colleagues, signed a document endorsing the war policy of Kaiser Wilhelm II. He suddenly realized that "their exegetical and dogmatic presuppositions could not be in order. . . . A whole world of exegesis, ethics, dogmatics and preaching, which I had hitherto held to be essentially trustworthy, was shaken to the foundations, and with it, all the other writings of the German theologians" (Karl Barth, biography by Eberhard Busch, 81). Barth and his commentary brought to the European scene a renewed emphasis on the transcendence of God, the "absolute qualitative difference between God and man," the vertical dimension of revelation (a theology "from above," i.e., from God to us in the Bible, rather than "from below"), and an emphasis on sin and atonement.

Gerald Bray is the editor of Romans in the Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture (IVP, 1998). This volume collects the best and most representative of patristic commentary and homily on Romans. Among those whose comments are cited include Augustine, Ambrosiaster, Origen, Chrysostom, Theodore of Mopsuestia, and others. The great value of this work is that it provides a glimpse into how the early church understood and applied the book of Romans.

Finally, if you are looking for a competent treatment of Romans from a decidedly Arminian perspective, you can do no better than Jack Cottrell, Romans, The College Press NIV Commentary, 2 volumes (College Press Publishing Company, 1996/1998, 1024 pp.). Cottrell, professor of theology at Cincinnati Theological Seminary, is unafraid to take on Calvinist interpreters point for point. Although he is more a theologian than an exegete, his work is worthy of close study.

On to Corinth!

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (4)

Acts

I preached through the book of Acts in the early 90's while at Christ Community Church in Ardmore, Oklahoma, and hope to do so again. At the time, I struggled to find good commentaries. Since then, however, several excellent resources have become available. I'll begin with works that I used in sermon preparation and then move on to those that have been published within the last decade or so.

If you are looking for a commentary on the English text, you can do no better than John Stott, The Spirit, the Church, and the World: The Message of Acts (IVP, 1990, 405pp.). Stott is superb when it comes to tracing the argument of the book and making relevant application to church life today. I didn't always agree with Stott on passages dealing with spiritual gifts, but he is excellent and should be in every pastor's library.

Also quite helpful for those who don't read Greek is the commentary by I. Howard Marshall in The Tyndale New Testament Commentary series (IVP/Eerdmans, 1980, 427pp.). Most of the volumes in this series are painfully brief, but Marshall's is an exception. Get it.

Another extremely helpful treatment of the English text is by F. F. Bruce, The Book of Acts, revised edition, in The New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Eerdmans, 1988, 541pp.). Don't confuse this one with Bruce's commentary on the Greek text. There are better alternatives to the latter, as noted below.

One more good resource is the commentary by Richard N. Longenecker, The Acts of the Apostles, in The Expositor's Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 1981, 366pp.). Another popular treatment on the English text is the volume by Ajith Fernando in the NIV Application commentary series (Zondervan, 1998, 656 pp.). It's probably worth a look, but I haven't had the opportunity to read any of it as yet.

More recently several excellent treatments of the Greek text have become available.

Perhaps the most technical and exhaustive is the two volume work by C. K. Barrett, The Acts of the Apostles, in The International Critical Commentary series (T & T Clark, 1994/1998, 1272 pp.). In all honesty, it is almost too technical for the average pastor. I appreciated the depth of analysis he provides, but I was often frustrated by the lack of an equal commitment to addressing the theological and practical issues that arise in the book.

I would recommend that instead of Barrett (by the way, the two volumes are very expensive) one purchase the new commentary by Darrell Bock, Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 2007, 848 pp.). Bock will provide all the exegetical information you need together with insightful treatment of the theology of Acts. If you are going to invest in his two-volume treatment of Luke (and you should), this is an excellent companion volume.

A couple of years ago I came across an interesting new series that is devoted solely to grammatical analysis of New Testament books. The first one I saw was Martin M. Culy and Mikeal C. Parsons, Acts: A Handbook on the Greek Text (Baylor University Press, 2003, 558pp.). There is virtually nothing said about structure, argument, or theology, as the authors simply provide parsing and grammatical observations on the Greek text. I found it quite helpful.

Although I haven't used it much, the contribution of Joseph A. Fitzmyer (a Jesuit priest) to the Anchor Bible series, The Acts of the Apostles (Doubleday, 1998, 830 pp.) is certainly worth a look.

There is one commentary that I highly recommend but find hard to classify: Ben Witherington, III. The Acts of the Apostles: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary (Eerdmans, 1998, 874 pp.). This is a massive work that provides a wealth of material for the student and preacher of Acts. You don't have to know Greek to profit from it, but that doesn't mean Witherington ignores essential exegetical details.

Finally, although not a commentary, I highly recommend the collection of essays on Acts found in Witness to the Gospel: The Theology of Acts, edited by I. Howard Marshall and David Peterson (Eerdmans, 1998, 610 pp.). Some twenty-four contributors have provided a wide range of essays on virtually every important topic in Acts. They aren't all of equal value, but this is a great resource to have ready at hand.

In conclusion, if you are getting ready to preach or teach (or simply study) through Acts, I would recommend, in order of preference, Stott, Bock, Witherington, Marshall, and Bruce.

Romans is next!

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (3)

John

Next to Romans, I suspect that more commentaries have been written on the gospel of John than on any other NT book. Once again, of course, my list of recommended resources will be quite selective and in no way representative of the plethora of volumes written on this portion of God's Word.

I was preaching through John when I resigned from my pastorate in Ardmore, Oklahoma, in 1993. I had just begun chapter thirteen and, sadly, had to terminate the series. But in working through the first twelve chapters and doing some additional study in the Upper Room Discourse, I've become acquainted with a good bit of the literature available.

As with his volume on Matthew's gospel, the commentary by D. A. Carson, The Gospel According to John, in the Pillar series is probably the best (Eerdmans, 1991, 715pp.). Although Carson is written primarily for those with a working knowledge of Greek, everyone can profit greatly from it. This is where pastors and Bible study teachers should begin. Make it first among commentaries on John that you purchase.

Running a close second to Carson is the commentary by Leon Morris in the New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Eerdmans, 1971, 936pp.). Morris has written numerous commentaries on a variety of books, but this, in my opinion, is his magnum opus. He keeps most technical discussions in the footnotes (but read them; they are a wealth of information), which makes his commentary entirely accessible to readers of all sorts. There is yet another resource on John's gospel from Morris that I highly recommend. In 1988, Baker Book House combined four separate volumes written by Morris into a one-volume Expository Reflections on the Gospel of John (1988, 750 pp.). This is considerably less technical and is a tremendous help for pastors in sermon preparation. It is very practical, applicable, and theologically rich.

As I've said before, I'm not a huge fan of the NIV Application Commentary, but certainly one of the better contributions to this series is by Gary M. Burge on John's gospel (Zondervan, 2000, 618pp.). Burge does a great job of combining scholarly insights on John's gospel with contemporary application, which, I suppose, is the point of this series! I don't always agree with Gary's theological conclusions, but he is always challenging.

By far and away the most extensive treatment of John when it comes to background, cultural setting, and socio-historical context is the two-volume work by Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John (Hendrickson 2003). It is simply stunning to witness the wealth of information provided by Keener. However, I should point out that of the 1636 total pages in the two volumes, 330 pages are devoted to the Introduction and 393 pages to Bibliography and a variety of Indices! Still, the 913 pages of commentary are a great resource to have close at hand.

Several other more technical works should be cited, such as the two-volume work by Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, in The Anchor Bible series (Doubleday, 1966/1970, 1208 pp.). I always found Brown helpful, although with Carson and Keener providing so much exegetical data, it has dropped down the list a bit. Andreas Kostenberger has written two books on John that appear to be quite good, although I've only had a chance to peruse them. His commentary on John in the Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 2004, 700pp.) and the earlier volume, Encountering John: The Gospel in Historical, Literary, and Theological Perspective, (Baker 1999, 277 pp.) are both worth the investment.

C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John (SPCK 1975, 531pp.) can always be counted on for helpful insights and F. F. Bruce, The Gospel of John (Pickering & Inglis, 1983, 425 pp.) is one of the better, shorter commentaries on the English text.

In addition to the volume noted above, Carson has also written a popular and more pastoral exposition of the Upper Room discourse, The Farewell Discourse and Final Prayer of Jesus: an Exposition of John 14-17 (Baker, 1980, 207pp.). This is an excellent book that not only provides a careful treatment of the text but also devotional, ethical, and practical insights that are eminently preachable.

In my comments on Mark and Luke I mentioned a few works that are less than helpful. When it comes to John's gospel, there is only one. George R. Beasley-Murray wrote the volume on John for the Word Biblical Commentary series (Word Books, 1987, 441pp.). I distinctly recall my excitement at the release of this book and began working through it when I started my sermon series on John. My disappointment was as deep as my initial excitement. I don't know how to put it, but every time I wanted Beasley-Murray to go deeper theologically, I was left empty and frustrated. I've long appreciated his work in other areas, but this commentary simply didn't live up to what we've come to expect from him.

Now, having said that, I should also point out that in 1999 a Second Edition of this commentary, at an expanded 592 pages, was released. I haven't read it, but I can only hope that the editors recognized the shortcomings of the first edition and greatly improved it. However, Carson's quick comparison of the two "disclosed no change in substance in the actual commentary" (71). In any case, if you are wanting to purchase the entire Word series, be sure you get the second and expanded edition.

In sum, if you get Carson, Morris, Burge, and Keener, you should be well set.

Acts is next . . .

New Testament Commentary Recommendations (2)

Mark

The number of helpful commentaries on Mark (as well as Luke) is significantly less than what we find with regard to Matthew. Still, there are a few that are worthy of note and should be made a priority in the building of one's library.

Once again, I highly recommend the work of R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark, in The New International Greek Testament Commentary (Eerdmans, 2002, 719 pp.). This is simply the best available commentary and should be the first one obtained by anyone intending to teach or preach through this gospel. A working knowledge of Greek is needed to make best use of this volume. As I noted with France's work on Matthew, his treatment of the Olivet Discourse (Mark 13) will not be embraced by all, but I find it convincing.

Although it is now somewhat dated, I highly recommend William L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark, in The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Eerdmans, 1974, 652 pp.). When I first studied Mark's gospel, I relied heavily on Lane and found him to be extremely insightful. Virtually all comments on the Greek text are restricted to the footnotes.

James R. Edwards has written the commentary on Mark in The Pillar New Testament Commentary series (Eerdmans, 2002, 552 pp.). I've only read small portions of Edwards but he seems to be quite good. The same may be said of David Garland's contribution to the NIV Application Commentary (Zondervan, 1996, 653 pp.). Although I'm not a huge fan of the format of this series, Garland is always good and worthy of study.

Two weeks ago (November, 2008) I purchased Robert H. Stein, Mark, in the Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 2008, 823 pp.). I anticipate that this will soon become one of the standard works on Mark.

If one were restricted to purchasing only a few commentaries on Mark, I would obtain, in order of preference, first France and then Lane. If a third is needed, either Stein or Edwards would be good.

Luke

There was a time when finding a good commentary on Luke was a difficult task. No longer!

The best and most evangelical of commentaries is the two volume work by Darrell L. Bock in the Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (Baker, 1994/1996, 2148 pp.). Yes, you read that correctly: 2148 pages! If one would also like a more popular treatment of Luke, designed for those who do not know Greek, Bock has written the volume on Luke in the NIV Application series (Zondervan, 1996, 640 pp.). This is one of the better treatments in this series.

The Anchor Bible commentary series is a mixed bag, but I have found the two volume work by Joseph A. Fitzmyer on Luke to be quite good (Doubleday, 1981/1985, 1642 pp.). Fitzmyer is Roman Catholic, but don't let that prevent you from gleaning incredibly helpful insights from his work.

John Nolland has written on Luke for the Word Biblical Commentary series in three volumes. Unfortunately, I haven't had the opportunity to read much of it. If one is looking for a solid work that doesn't require a knowledge of Greek, once again Robert Stein has come through in his treatment of Luke in The New American Commentary (Broadman Press, 1992, 642 pp.).

If my recommendations are going to be helpful, I suppose that on occasion I need to mention works that are not worthy of your investment. In the New International Commentary on the New Testament published by Eerdmans, there are numerous excellent volumes (such as the one by Lane, noted above). But the treatment of Luke by Norval Geldenhuys, I'm sad to say, isn't one of them (Eerdmans, 1951, 685 pp.). I rarely found much of help in this book, and now with Bock and others having written on Luke, it simply doesn't measure up to what a pastor needs in his preparation.

Eerdmans commissioned a replacement volume for Geldenhuys, written by Joel B. Green (1997, 928 pp.). I would like to be able to recommend this commentary, but I can't. Aside from the fact that Green rejects penal substitutionary atonement (and has likened it to "cosmic child abuse" in his horrid book, Recovering the Scandal of the Cross [IVP]), there is little theological help to be found here.

I was also disappointed with I. Howard Marshall's contribution on Luke to The New International Greek Testament Commentary series (Eerdmans, 1978, 928 pp.). If I'm not mistaken, this was the first in this otherwise excellent series. My objection to Marshall is not that it has bad theology but that it has so little theological reflection at all. The book is more concerned with text critical matters and issues related to structure and form than it is with providing insight into the meaning and application of Luke's narrative. Marshall's commentaries on Acts, the Pastoral Epistles, and especially the Johannine Epistles are quite good, but this one just doesn't provide what I'm looking for in a commentary.

And now on to the Gospel of John . . .

New Testament Commentary Recommendations

Over the years, and especially in recent days, I've been asked by people to make available my recommendations on New Testament commentaries. I yield at last, but with significant reservations. I can't imagine that my observations will add anything important to what has already been said in near exhaustive detail by D. A. Carson in his New Testament Commentary Survey (now in its 5th edition, Baker, 2001). In fact, I've always used Carson's survey as the excuse for not writing on this myself. But perhaps the perspective of a local church pastor will provide a bit of guidance for those who are just beginning to build their theological libraries and want recommendations for what is most helpful in sermon preparation. So here goes.

Matthew

It has been over fifteen years since I last preached through Matthew, so I'm not as personally acquainted with some of the more recent commentaries as I am with those I read back in the late eighties.

Two commentaries are, in my opinion, head and shoulders above the rest. The first is the one by D. A. Carson in The Expositor's Bible Commentary (Zondervan, 1984, 599 pp.). I think Carson's treatment of Matthew has been reprinted separately from the original volume that also included short commentaries on Mark and Luke. Even if not, don't even think about preaching through Matthew without Carson's work. I'm not persuaded by his interpretation of the Olivet Discourse, but aside from this it is indispensable.

Running a close second to Carson is the recent commentary by R. T. France in The New International Commentary on the New Testament series (Eerdmans, 2007, 1169 pp.). I've only briefly skimmed through France but it gives every appearance of being superb. Although Carson wrote that "not many will follow him in his interpretation of the eschatological discourse" (43), I'm thoroughly persuaded by it! For those not familiar with this issue, France contends (convincingly, in my opinion) that Jesus was talking about the Destruction of Jerusalem all the way through 24:35.

Although I've read only selected portions of Craig Keener's A Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew (Eerdmans, 1999, 1040 pp.), it looks to be vintage Keener with massive information on Jewish backgrounds and the cultural setting of the gospel. Most pastors will only have time to read two or three technical commentaries on the book they are preaching, and when it comes to Matthew's gospel Carson, France, and Keener should provide most of the help they need.

I should also mention three extremely helpful treatments of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) that are written at a popular level but are theologically rich. They are Studies in the Sermon on the Mount by Martyn Lloyd-Jones (Eerdmans, 1974, 337 pp.), Christian Counter-Culture: The Message of the Sermon on the Mount by John Stott (IVP, 1978, 222 pp.), and The Sermon on the Mount: An Evangelical Exposition of Matthew 5-7 by D. A. Carson (Baker, 1978, 157 pp.).

In more recent days several quite technical commentaries on Matthew have come out, none of which I've read: John Nolland (The New International Greek Testament Commentary), David Turner (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), Donald Hagner (Word Biblical Commentary), and the three-volume treatment in the ICC series by W. D. Davies and Dale Allison.

On to Mark and Luke . . .

But what has happened since? Some expected a significant decline in the number of books and articles focusing on Edwards, and there's no denying the fact that the production following 2003 has fallen off to some extent. But that doesn't mean Edwards has been forgotten.

In the past few weeks I've been packing up my books for an impending move to Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Those who know me shouldn't be surprised that the last books to be put away are the more than three shelves of volumes either by or about Edwards. As I made my way through this cherished section of my library, I couldn't help but notice several important works that are worthy of note. So, what follows is a brief bibliography of "Edwardsean" works published subsequent to 2003. I don't profess to have listed all that have been released in the past five years. I list here only the ones I personally own (some of which I have not yet read, but hope to).

By far and away the most helpful of all these volumes is Reading Jonathan Edwards: An Annotated Bibliography in Three Parts, 1729-2005 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), by M. X. Lesser. Anyone preparing to write on Edwards or wanting to know of available resources on him cannot ignore this monumental accomplishment. The book includes a reprint of two earlier works compiled by Lesser that covered virtually everything written about Edwards up through 1994. This volume extends the survey up through 2005. This includes not only books about Edwards but journal articles, book reviews, and doctoral dissertations. It is absolutely indispensable for those doing research on Edwards.

I'm sad to say that it retails for $145! You can obtain it on Amazon.com for $110, or perhaps find a used copy for significantly less. I got mine for $58, but only because I bought it at the Eerdmans bookstore in Grand Rapids where all their publications are available at greatly reduced prices.

Five volumes in the Yale University Press edition of Edwards' collected works have been released since 2003. They include Volume 23, The Miscellanies (Entry Nos. 1153-1360), edited by Douglas Sweeney (2004); Volume 24, The Blank Bible, Part 1, edited by Stephen J. Stein (2006); Volume 24, The Blank Bible, Part 2, edited by Stein (2006); Volume 25, Sermons and Discourses 1743-1758, edited by Wilson H. Kimnach (2006); and Volume 26, Catalogues of Books, edited by Peter J. Thuesen (2008).

Here are some others listed by year of publication. The following includes only books, and I'm sure there are many I've left out (to whose authors I issue a profound apology).

2004

A God Entranced Vision of All Things: The Legacy of Jonathan Edwards (Wheaton: Crossway Books, 287 pp.), edited by John Piper and Justin Taylor.

The Glory and Honor of God (Nashville: Broadman & Holman, 387 pp.), edited by Michael D. McMullen. This is Volume 2 of previously unpublished sermons by Edwards. Volume 1, The Blessing of God, was released in 2003.

Jonathan Edwards and Hell (Christian Focus Publications, 171 pp.), by Chris Morgan.

The Trinitarian Ethics of Jonathan Edwards (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 324 pp.), by William J. Danaher, Jr.

2005

The Princeton Companion to Jonathan Edwards (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 331 pp.), edited by Sang Hyun Lee.

Jonathan Edwards at 300: Essays on the Tercentenary of His Birth (Lanham: University Press of America, 175 pp.), edited by Harry S. Stout, Kenneth P. Minkema, & Caleb J. D. Maskell.

Originally written as a Ph.D. dissertation in 1955, a new edition is now available of William S. Morris's The Young Jonathan Edwards: A Reconstruction (Eugene: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 688 pp.).

Jonathan Edwards and the Metaphysics of Sin (Burlington: Ashgate, 146 pp.), by Oliver D. Crisp.

Jonathan Edwards: The Holy Spirit in Revival (Webster, NY: Evangelical Press, 227 pp.), by Michael A. G. Haykin.

Jonathan Edwards: America's Evangelical (New York: Hill and Wang, 284 pp.), by Philip F. Gura.

Jonathan Edwards and the Enlightenment: Knowing the Presence of God (Lanham: University Press of America, 203 pp.), by Josh Moody.

2006

Heaven on Earth: Capturing Jonathan Edwards's Vision of Living in Between (Wheaton: Crossway, 142 pp.), by Stephen J. Nichols.

Originally published in 1837, we now have a new edition of Life of Jonathan Edwards (Puritan Reprints, 256 pp.), by Samuel Miller.

2007

The God-Centered Life: Insights from Jonathan Edwards for Today (Regent College Publishing, 196pp.), by Josh Moody.

The Cambridge Companion to Jonathan Edwards (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 374 pp.), edited by Stephen J. Stein.

Published in 1830, we now have a new edition of The Life of President Edwards (Puritan Reprints, 766 pp.), by Sereno E. Dwight.

Signs of the Spirit: An Interpretation of Jonathan Edwards' ‘Religious Affections' (Wheaton: Crossway, 238 pp.), by yours truly.

2008

A New Inner Relish: Christian Motivation in the Thought of Jonathan Edwards (Christian Focus Publications, 263 pp.), by Dane Ortlund.

The Preaching of Jonathan Edwards (Carlisle: The Banner of Truth Trust, 465 pp.), by John Carrick.

Happy reading!

Sam

(2 Corinthians 12:8-10)

God loved the apostle Paul. Yet God sovereignly orchestrated his painful thorn in the flesh and then declined to remove it, notwithstanding Paul's passionate prayer that he be healed.

We are not apostles. Yet, as his children, no less so than Paul, God loves us too. We don't know the nature of Paul's thorn, but each of us has undoubtedly suffered in a similar way, and some considerably worse. We, like Paul, have prayed incessantly to be healed. Or perhaps knowing of a loved one's "thorn" we have prayed for them. And again, like Paul, God declined to remove it. Why?

It's hard to imagine a more difficult, confusing, and controversial topic than why God chooses not to heal in response to the intercessory pleas of his people. I don't profess to have all the answers, but I think I've got a few. I'm sure that this meditation will provoke many to anger and frustration, while others, I pray, will find a measure of comfort.

In the final analysis, virtually everything about healing remains a mystery. I don't mind saying that I'm weary of those who claim to reduce healing to a formula or a manageable cause and effect phenomenon in which we can know with certainty why some are healed and why others are not. I've labored in this meditation to avoid falling into that trap. That said, I would like to suggest that the reason why many are not healed may possibly be answered in any one of seven ways.

(1) Although we must be careful in giving more weight to the role of faith than does the NT itself, we also must be willing to acknowledge that occasionally healing does not occur because of the absence of that sort of faith that God delights to honor.

This does not mean that every time a person isn't healed it is because of a defective faith or that if only a more robust and doubt-free faith were in exercise that healing would inevitably follow. But it does mean that faith is very important. How can we conclude otherwise in view of the many texts in which healing is closely linked to someone's faith? I hope you'll take the time to pause and read these passages: Matthew 9:22, 28-29; 15:28; Mark 2:5,11; 5:34; 9:17-24; Mark 10:52; Luke 17:19; Acts 3:16; 14:8-10; James 5:14-16.

In my book on spiritual gifts I asked the question: "Why did Jesus emphasize faith?" Neither he nor his Father need it. They could have orchestrated life such that something other than faith would be the condition on which they would heal. They are not hampered or hindered by the faithlessness or prayerlessness of the sick person or those who pray for his/her healing. The reason is this: faith glorifies God. Faith points us away from ourselves to him. Faith turns us away from our own power and resources to his. Faith says, "Lord, I am nothing and you are everything. I entrust myself to your care. I cling to you alone. My confidence is in your word and character no matter what happens."

Faith is not a weapon by which we demand things from God or put him in subjection to us. Faith is an act of self-denial. Faith is a renunciation of one's ability to do anything and a confession that God can do everything. Faith derives its power not from the spiritual energy of the person who believes, but from the supernatural efficacy of the person who is believed: God! It is not faith's act but its object that accounts for the miraculous.

(2) Sometimes healing does not occur because of the presence of sin for which there has been no confession or repentance. James 5:15-16 clearly instructs us to confess our sins to one another and pray for one another that we may be healed. Again, please do not conclude from this that each time a person isn't healed it is because he/she has committed some specific sin of which they have refused to repent. But in some cases this is undoubtedly true.

(3) Although it sounds odd to many at first hearing, healing may not happen because the sick don't want it to happen. Jesus asked the paralyzed man in John 5:6, "Do you want to be healed?" What on the surface may appear to be a ridiculous question is, on further examination, found to be profoundly insightful.

Some people who suffer from a chronic affliction become accustomed to their illness and to the pattern of life it requires. Their identity is to a large extent wrapped up in their physical disability. They enjoy their dependency on others and the special attention it brings them. In some instances they don't want the responsibilities that would come with being healthy. This is not a common phenomenon, but it does happen in a few cases.

(4) We must also consider the principle articulated in James 4:2, where we are told that "you do not have, because you do not ask." The simple fact is that some are not healed because they do not pray. Perhaps they pray once or twice, and then allow discouragement to paralyze their petitions. Prayer for healing often must be prolonged, sustained, persevering, and combined with fasting.

(5) Some are not healed because the demonic cause of the affliction has not been addressed. Please do not jump to unwarranted conclusions. I am not suggesting that all physical disease is demonically induced. Of course, it is interesting, is it not, that in Paul's case God used "a messenger of Satan" to inflict the thorn. There is also the case of the woman in Luke 13 "who had a disabling spirit [or, a spirit of infirmity] for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not fully straighten herself" (Luke 13:11). According to Jesus, "Satan" had "bound" her (Luke 13:16; see also Acts 10:38).

It takes considerable discernment, time, and patience to determine if an illness has a demonic cause, together with even greater commitment to praying for that individual and leading them to address the reasons for their spiritual oppression. When these factors are ignored, healing may not be forthcoming.

(6) We must also consider the mystery of divine providence. There are undoubtedly times and seasons in the purposes of God during which his healing power is withdrawn or at least largely diminished. God may have any number of reasons for this to which we are not privy, whether to discipline a wayward and rebellious church or to create a greater desperation for his power or to wean us off excessive dependence on physical comfort and convenience or any number of other possibilities. If this leaves you confused, that's why it's called a mystery!

But what must we say when the problem isn't the absence of faith or the presence of a demon or the refusal to repent or the failure to pray or a lack of desire? How then do we account for on-going physical affliction, as in Paul's case? I strongly urge you to carefully read the next point.

(7) Often times there are dimensions of spiritual growth and moral development and increase in the knowledge of God in us that he desires MORE than our physical health, experiences that in his wisdom God has determined can only be attained by means or in the midst of or in response to less than perfect physical health. In other words, healing the sick is a good thing (and we should never cease to pray for it), but often there is a better thing that can only be attained by means of physical weakness.

More important to God than our physical health is our spiritual holiness. This isn't to say the body isn't important. God isn't a Gnostic! He values and has redeemed our bodies and now dwells within them as his eternal temple. But while we live in this corrupt and decaying world, inner and spiritual conformity to the image of Christ often comes only at the expense of or at least simultaneous with physical deterioration and suffering (see 2 Cor. 4:16-18).

Let me personalize this principle. If I believe Romans 8:28, that God sovereignly orchestrates all events in my life for my ultimate spiritual good (and preeminently for his ultimate glory), I can only conclude that, all things being equal, if I'm not healed it is because God values something in me greater than my physical comfort and health that he, in his infinite wisdom and kindness, knows can only be attained by means of my physical affliction and the lessons of submission, dependency, and trust in God that I learn from it.

In the final analysis, we may never know why a person isn't healed. What, then, ought to be our response? In the first place, don't stop praying! Some people find this difficult to swallow. Many times I've been asked: "Why should Paul bother to pray for release from something that God wills to inflict?" The answer is because Paul didn't know what God's will was in this particular case until such time as God chose to make it known. And neither do you or I with regard to any particular illness that we may suffer.

If the Lord had never said in response to Paul's prayer, "No, it isn't my will that you be relieved of this thorn," Paul would have been justified, indeed required, to continue to pray for his healing. I once heard Jack Taylor put it this way: "Never cease praying for healing until you are shown otherwise either by divine revelation or death!" If you are able to discern, as did Paul, through some prophetic disclosure or other legitimate biblical means that it is not God's will now or ever to heal you, you may cease asking him to do so. Otherwise, short of death itself, you must persevere in prayer. You never know but that God's ultimate and long-term will for you is complete healing after he has for a season accomplished his short-term sanctifying purpose.

In Paul's case, the only reason he ceased asking for deliverance was because God, in effect, told him to shut up! "No, Paul. I'm not going to heal you. It isn't my will in this instance that you be set free from this affliction. Rather, I have a higher purpose in view: your humility and my Son's glory manifest in the context of your on-going weakness."

To which Paul, in effect, replied: "O.K., Lord, I'll shut up and submit to your merciful purpose in my life. I know you love me and desire what is ultimately of greatest good for my spiritual growth. Therefore, my prayer now is that you maximize in me the beneficial effects of this pain. Don't let me miss out on any spiritual good that might come my way from this malady. Teach me everything I need to know and sustain me that I might be a platform for the glory of Christ and a source of comfort to other suffering saints."

I'm sure there are other ways to account for why God chooses not to heal, but I trust that these have proven helpful. There is much I do not know about this matter, but of this I'm quite certain: God's grace is sufficient in all circumstances so that we, "for the sake of Christ" (2 Cor. 12:10a), might learn that in our weakness his power is made perfect!

Sam

I'm sickened, as I'm sure you are, by the almost daily barrage of news concerning either the self-serving, authoritarian practices of some professed Christian leader or the moral scandal that has befallen yet another. Where do these people come from? How do they manage to attain such lofty heights of praise and power? Why do people grant them such unqualified allegiance? What accounts for their ability to amass so much wealth and fame and authority over the lives of their followers?

Don't be misled. I'm not talking about the obvious and notorious cult figures such as David Koresh or Jim Jones or the leaders of certain polygamous groups who have been much in the news of late. I have in mind local church pastors and leaders of para-church ministries as well as those who have risen to fame and fortune on the waves of "revival" movements and other sensational and supernatural spiritual happenings.

Countless theological and sociological studies have examined such folk in an effort to understand the source of their power and the secret to their allure. I've read a few of them myself and they've often been spot on target. Amidst the variety of explanations for their success, one is common to all, which brings us to our text in 2 Corinthians 10.

However, before noting Paul's comments, let me differentiate between the sort of authoritative and self-aggrandizing "shearer of the sheep" that the apostle confronted in the church at Corinth and the truly gifted and godly pastor of today's mega-church. My words that follow are not intended to indict those who, through faithful and diligent service, have built large churches and gathered zealous disciples. Not all forms of success are bad! Quite a few prominent leaders whose ministries have drawn thousands of devoted followers are to be honored and emulated. They are not the focus of my concern or the target of my criticism.

I have in mind the aggressive, self-righteous, supremely self-confident person whose alleged authority borders on legalistic control. This is the person whose flamboyant style, charismatic personality, and sheer energy of will seduce his followers into suspending their critical faculties and throwing discernment to the wind. This sort of "leader" does not humbly serve and sacrifice for the flock but expects them (without necessarily saying so) to supply him with financial blessings and a wide array of other perks and privileges. This individual is typically unaccountable and not held to the same standard that he requires of his ardent devotees.

So what explains this remarkable mystique? Why do so many fall prey to such claims? To what does this sort of "leader" appeal as the reason why he should be treated with such extraordinary respect and devotion? Look at Paul's words in 2 Corinthians 10:7 for at least one answer to our question:

"Look at what is before your eyes. If anyone is confident that he is Christ's, let him remind himself that just as he is Christ's, so also are we" (v. 7).

The NASB renders the opening words of v. 7 as a statement of fact: "You are looking at things as they are outwardly." More likely this is a command: "Look at what is before your eyes."

What they are to look at and from which they are to draw appropriate conclusions would include such things as the fact that they are themselves the fruit of Paul's labors, bearing witness to the authenticity of his calling as an apostle (see 1 Cor. 9:1-2; 2 Cor. 3:1-3); that Paul "belongs" to Christ (as do his co-workers and all believers) no less than the intruders; that his authority came from Christ and was always exercised for the building up of the Corinthians; and that his actions and words were not incompatible, as some alleged, but were always aimed at the same goals, being prompted by the same motives.

The "anyone" of v. 7 likely "points to a particular individual, the ringleader of the Judaizing intruders who expressed the viewpoint of them all" (Harris, 688). But what precisely is it that this representative figure is claiming, on the basis of which he and like-minded others are challenging Paul's authority?

This man is claiming, literally, to be "of Christ". The genitive is certainly possessive, thus suggesting that he promoted himself as one who belonged to the Lord in some unique and special way. Several suggestions have been made concerning the precise nature of this statement.

Some contend that they were claiming to be Christians and insisting Paul was not. But this is highly unlikely. As radically opposed to him as they were, there's no indication in the letter that they questioned his salvation.

Some say these opponents claimed to belong to the "Christ party" mentioned in 1 Corinthians 1:12 (where some said, "I follow Paul," or "I follow Apollos," or "I follow Cephas," or "I follow Christ"). But would Paul have responded to such a claim by saying he is of the Christ party no less than they? Given his strong denunciations of the schismatic spirit in Corinth, he would hardly now have endorsed it!

Others suggest they were appealing to an earthly relationship with Jesus. They knew him during the time of his sojourn but Paul didn't, thus putting them at an advantage to him. But in v. 7b Paul claims to have no less a relation to Jesus, and we know he had no personal contact with the Lord until after the ascension, most likely on the road to Damascus.

Might it be a claim to have received a special commission from Jesus? But that is an assertion made only by the "super apostles" (cf. 11:5) whom Paul does not address until the next chapter. Here he is dealing with "insiders" who are critical of him because of his feeble previous visit and his frightening ("Severe") follow-up letter (cf. 10:9-11).

The most likely interpretation is that they were asserting some special, ongoing relationship with Christ, making their point with an obviously feigned humility. One can almost see a slight tilt of the head together with just the right inflection of voice: "I am Christ's man. I belong to Jesus in a way you don't. He has a higher interest in me than in you. He has a deeper affection for me than for you. I have access to his mind and heart in a way that transcends whatever claims you might make. Therefore, I and a few others have been given an authority and power and place above you and your co-workers."

In many such cases the person who stands center stage doesn't explicitly assert that he or she is the recipient of special divine favor or revelatory insights worthy of only a chosen few. They would never commit the tactical error of publicly promoting themselves as uniquely "anointed". They simply do nothing to disabuse their followers of such false perceptions. Their calculated silence is mistaken for humility and their power base grows.

Is this not precisely the grounds on which so many today build their reputations and undergird their authority? False and self-serving leadership that ultimately works to enhance the person's fame and fortune is almost always the result of allowing people to think one has a unique and privileged relationship with God, one that is unavailable to ordinary believers. It is frequently, if not most times, grounded in the claim to supernatural experiences, whether angelic visitations or third heaven translations or having heard the voice of God with a clarity and force beyond what any average Christian might experience.

Let me say it as forcefully as I can: Beware of all such claims to a superior or "super" spirituality! Beware of any suggestion that one has special knowledge or insights unavailable to others! Beware of those whose only credentials are the visions they have allegedly seen or the angels with whom they have allegedly conversed (cf. Col. 2:18)! [I say this as one who believes in the gift of prophecy, visions, and angelic encounters.]

On the other hand, genuine, godly leadership that warrants your allegiance is built on character, not charisma. It is grounded in virtue, not visions. Its appeal is the centrality of Christ, not displays of power or heightened states of ecstasy. And at the heart of such authentic authority is the faithful proclamation of a cross-centered, Christ-exalting gospel, which is to say, a preaching of "Jesus Christ as Lord" and "ourselves as your servants for Jesus' sake" (2 Cor. 4:5).

All of us, at some point or other, will have to "look at what is before our eyes" (v. 7a) and pass judgment on the legitimacy of claims to spiritual authority. What criteria shall we employ? Upon reading the following words of Charles Spurgeon, I think I now know:

"I have not the slightest desire to suppose that I have advanced in the spiritual life many stages beyond my brethren. As long as I trust simply to the blood and righteousness of Christ, and think nothing of myself, I believe that I shall continue to be pleasing to the Lord Jesus Christ, that this joy will be in me, and that my joy will be full" (cited by Carson, 65).

Sam

There's no indication that Paul's enemies in Corinth were repeating this slanderous charge, but they did spread the rumor that his plans and decisions and the implementation of his "ministry" were the fruit of a sinister, self-serving motive and shaped by principles lacking in spirituality.

Of course, Paul was happy to acknowledge that he walked or lived "in the flesh," but he steadfastly opposed any suggestion that he waged spiritual war or ministered among the Corinthians "according to the flesh." And as we'll soon see, there's a world of difference between the two. Contrary to their baseless accusations, Paul insisted that "the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds" (2 Cor. 10:3-4).

Let me make a couple of observations about his use of language in this text and then we'll turn our attention to its application in our own day.

They key to understanding Paul's response is found in his use of the word "flesh" in v. 3 to mean two different things. When he declares that "we walk in the flesh" (Gk. sarx; although the NIV renders it "world"), he is referring to life on earth in general. This is simply his way of describing our basic human condition that applies equally to both Christian and non-Christian. If you are a human being, you "walk in the flesh".

But when he denies waging spiritual war "according to the flesh" (again, sarx) he has in mind not merely the physical body or our common lot as men and women but human methods and means and resources as over against those that derive from God and are compatible with the values of the spiritual realm. "Paul concedes, of course, that the world is his sphere of activity; but that does not mean the world dictates the agenda, still less that it provides the tools for the job" (Carson, 41). More about what that entails in a moment.

Note also that after affirming he "walks" or lives in the flesh he then changes verbs and denies that he "wages war" according to the flesh. If nothing else, this adds an edge to his response to the accusation that he was a weak and timid man. Make no mistake about it, says Paul. I am in the midst of an on-going battle, a fight, a war, and because of God's powerful presence in me I'm more than up to the task (on the Christian life as war, see Rom. 13:12; 2 Cor. 6:7; Eph. 6:11-17; Phil. 2:25; 1 Thess. 5:8; 1 Tim. 1:18; 6:12; 2 Tim. 2:3-4; 4:7; Philemon 2).

What precisely would his enemies have had in mind in making the accusation that he pursued his ministry as an apostle "according to the flesh"? As strange as it may sound, from what we've already seen in 2 Corinthians and will later read in chapters eleven and twelve, they likely meant his lack of verbal eloquence, his alleged reliance on self-commendation, his bodily weakness, his choice not to accept money for his labors, as well as the absence from his resume of supernatural encounters and ecstatic revelatory experiences.

But let's turn for a moment to the present day. While acknowledging the obvious, namely, that all humans live "in the flesh", what might be the modern day equivalent to laboring "according to the flesh" in a way that is displeasing to the Lord?

As I look across the broad expanse of ministry styles and the values that govern them, ten "worldly" or "fleshly" things come to mind. I'll only briefly note them, and then turn to their opposites.

Much of so-called ministry today is driven by (1) pragmatism, the notion that if a method or strategy is effective in attaining what are thought to be legitimate goals, that in itself legitimizes the method even though it may be ethically questionable or even explicitly unbiblical.

Far too many in church life are motivated by (2) self promotion and make their decisions and formulate their theology based on what they believe will most greatly enhance their position. Others are driven by (3) good old fashioned (or should I say bad old fashioned) greed. The so-called prosperity gospel and the manipulative and deceitful tactics of many TV evangelists are illustrative of this.

Others fixate so completely on (4) quantity that any message or ministry that threatens numerical increase is cast aside, even though it may be profoundly biblical. For some, (5) comfort dictates how they proceed. They make their choices based on what most effectively preserves ease of life and reinforces their sense of control and the tranquility of their surroundings.

Far too many are personally ambitious and the specter of (6) power shapes what they do. Whatever enhances their grip on the church or elevates their influence in the congregation is most highly prized. Related to this is the allure of (7) fame and the often associated fear of having one's voice muted and being marginalized within the broader body of Christ.

When we turn to the standards or ideas that give shape to how we pursue life in the body of Christ, many are guided by (8) human ingenuity or the fanciful, even if unbiblical, ideas that pop into their heads (what D. A. Carson refers to as "glib how-to formulas for instant spiritual maturity and material prosperity" [52]). Then there is the influence of (9) secular values or the findings of the latest public opinion poll, or perhaps worse still the underlying philosophy of (10) naturalism that largely rules out the supernatural realm of God's activity among us.

As pessimistic or cynical as that may sound, we have to be realistic about how far ranging and widespread such factors are. They constitute a modern day equivalent to waging war "according to the flesh", the avoidance of which demands our constant vigilance.

On the flip side, if only briefly, we must be governed not by pragmatism but by biblical principle; not by self promotion but by a Christ-centered passion; not by greed but contentment with what we have; not by a concern for quantity but a commitment to quality and spiritual excellence; not by what enhances our comfort but by a willingness to suffer for Christ's sake; not by a hunger for power but a recognition that in our weakness the glory of God is most seen; not by a hankering after fame but a willingness to labor in anonymity if only Christ is known; not based on the best ideas that men can conjure up but in conformity with the wisdom that comes from above; not by the preferences of a world that denigrates revelatory truth but in accordance with the moral values of God's Word; and not as if physical reality is all there is but in recognition of the power of the unseen spiritual realm.

And why should we find comfort in the merely human and material weapons this world affords when, as Paul says in v. 4, our weapons are "not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds"?

This phrase translated "divine power" has been variously interpreted, all of which are both possible and carry significant meaning. Among the options are that our weapons are "made powerful by God," or perhaps are "divinely" or "supernaturally powerful", or are "powerful in God's perspective," or even are "powerful for God" or "in God's cause" or with a view to achieving God's purpose.

In any case, on any view, our weapons work! They are divinely effective. They get the job done because God works in and through them to accomplish his purposes. D. A. Carson has summed it up best in the following comment:

"The contrast Paul is drawing must not be overlooked. He is not comparing, say, tanks, rifles, and missiles with prayer, fasting, and preaching. The fleshly or worldly side of the contrast depends on the interpretation of 2 Corinthians 10:3-4a - worldly weapons in this context are the kinds of tools of the trade relished by the intruders: human ingenuity, rhetoric, showmanship, a certain splashiness and forwardness in spiritual pretensions, charm, powerful personal charisma. Such weapons they will not find in Paul's arsenal, so they think him inferior; but Paul responds by openly disavowing such weapons. He would not want to defend himself on that score, for his weapons are of an entirely different sort. They are spiritual weapons, and they are divinely powerful" (46).

What these weapons are and what they actually achieve remains to be seen as we proceed through this paragraph. But of greatest importance now is for us to recognize the futility and vanity of trusting in anything other than the spiritual resources and moral values and theological truths that God has made available and entrusted to us. Let us not be swept up in the shallow and man-centered ways and means of so much so-called "church" life today.

We can't escape living in the flesh any more than Paul could. But nothing compels us to wage war according to the flesh other than our own delusional, self-serving, and prideful ambitions.

Sam

What should be our response, if any? Do we simply ignore them, confident that in time they will fade away as have other skeptics in centuries past? Fade away they will, but I believe we should be more proactive in our efforts to expose the ill-founded and prejudicial nature of their arguments. That's why I'm grateful for the work of such notable Christian apologists as Tim Keller (The Reason for God), Alister McGrath (The Dawkins Delusion), Ravi Zacharias (The End of Reason: A Response to the New Atheists), and Al Mohler, Jr. (Atheism Remix). What they and their books have achieved is akin to what Paul had in mind when he wrote the following:

"For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ, being ready to punish every disobedience, when your obedience is complete" (2 Corinthians 10:4-6).

What can our weapons do? They destroy "strongholds" or "fortresses" (NASB), vivid imagery indeed. Paul's use of this word recalls the ancient practice of building a massively fortified tower inside the walls of a city where its citizens might retreat to make their final defense. But to what does Paul's language actually refer? What are the literal "strongholds" that our divinely empowered weapons destroy? Verse 5 gives the answer.

First, they are "arguments" or "speculations" (NASB), by which Paul means the thoughts, plans, and intentions designed to justify one's calloused disbelief in God (cf. 2 Cor. 2:11; 4:4; Rom. 1:21; l Cor. 3:20). He is saying that our weapons "destroy the way people think, demolish their sinful thought patterns, the mental structures by which they live their lives in rebellion against God" (Carson, 47).

Second, our weapons are effective in bring down "every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, (or, "every pretension that sets itself up against the kingdom of God," NIV). People will often appear humble in their appeal to intellectual doubt as a way of keeping God at arm's length. Others "display a supercilious and condescending cynicism" or claim "an intellectual independence that loves to debate theology without ever bending the knee in adoring worship" (Carson, 48). But we have been graciously equipped by God with the necessary weaponry to overcome every arrogant claim, every haughty or prideful thought, every pompous act that forms a barrier to the knowledge of God. We are fully empowered to address every argument used to rationalize sin and to justify unbelief and to delay repentance.

Furthermore, our warfare is not merely aimed at dismantling and tearing down the sinful reasoning and rationalizations which are strongholds by which the mind fortifies itself against the gospel. It is actually effective in doing so! The gospel will always remain foolishness to some and a stumbling block to others, but to those "who are being saved it is the power of God" (1 Cor. 1:18), "to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks" (1 Cor. 1:24), the gospel of a crucified Christ is "the power of God and the wisdom of God" (1 Cor. 24b).

The ultimate aim, of course, is to "take every thought captive to obey Christ" (v. 5b). The picture is of "a military expedition into enemy territory, an expedition so effective that every plan of the enemy is thwarted, every scheme foiled, every counter-offensive beaten" (Carson, 50). Whatever ideas of the unbeliever hindered faith, whatever notions or plans were barriers to repentance, they are defeated, captured, and graciously transformed, to be brought under the authority of Christ and ultimately to acknowledge a new loyalty, a new allegiance.

Barnett suggests that, given the context, the "weaponry" Paul has in mind might refer to "his disciplinary ministry to them at the time of the second [painful] visit and through the ‘Severe Letter'" (464). On this view, the "destruction of fortresses" and the "pulling down" of speculations refer to his victory over the person who wronged him (cf. 2:6; 7:12) and those in the congregation who have undermined his apostolic authority. This interpretation, however, is generally regarded as too narrow and restricted to fully account for Paul's language.

So what then are our weapons of warfare? What is it that Paul utilizes to bring about this triumphant result? Surely he would point to the same armaments he cited in Ephesians 6:13-18, such as truth and righteousness and unyielding proclamation of the gospel and faith and the glory of salvation and the Word of God and persistent prayer. These may not seem formidable, especially when one considers the political power and financial resources available to those who stand in opposition. But they are enough. And they are effective.

There are two additional issues that need to be addressed.

First, some have misinterpreted and misapplied this text as if it spoke of cosmic level spiritual warfare (i.e., territorial demons). "Strongholds" and every "lofty thing" (NASB) have been taken as referring to demonic spirits who have been assigned by Satan to specific territorial or geographic regions. We then, according to this view, are called to identify, engage, and, as it were, pull them down (ostensibly through prayer, fasting, proclamation, etc.). But the enemies in view are ideas and arguments and philosophies and excuses that are antithetical to the kingdom and glory of God. This isn't to pass judgment on whether there are territorial spirits, but simply to point out that this isn't what Paul had in mind when he penned this passage.

Yet, again, it is worth asking: Who is behind these thoughts? Who inspires and energizes such anti-Christian arguments and philosophies? What gives them the force that they appear to exert on the human soul? We mustn't forget that it is "the prince of the power of the air" who is even now "at work in the sons of disobedience" (Eph. 2:2; cf. 4:17-19). We've already seen in 2 Corinthians 4:4 how "the god of this world [i.e., Satan] has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ". How are they blinded if not by being deceived with philosophical and religious lies? Paul even said that Christ had called him "to open their eyes, so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God" (Acts 26:18). In describing the condition of the latter days he spoke of "deceitful spirits and teachings of demons" (l Tim. 4:1).

So, whereas there is no basis for finding any reference to so-called "territorial" spirits here in 2 Corinthians 10, there is certainly good reason to think that Paul's warfare and divinely empowered weaponry applied to his (and our) conflict with principalities and powers, ruler and authorities, the cosmic powers and spiritual forces of evil in heavenly places (Eph. 6:12) who so often confuse and harden and blind and enslave those who are resistant to the gospel.

Second, contextually Paul is talking about "strongholds" in the lives and minds of those in the Corinthian church who were resistant to his apostolic authority. But do ordinary Christians today have them too? Yes. Such intellectual, philosophical, and moral enemies to the knowledge of God don't automatically and altogether disappear when we get saved.

I once heard someone define a stronghold as "a mindset impregnated with hopelessness that causes us to accept as unchangeable something we know is contrary to God's will." What he had in view are negative patterns of thought that cripple our ability to obey God and thus breed feelings of guilt and despair. They are often burned into our minds either through repetition over time (such as occurs in an abusive, incestuous relationship) or through a one-time traumatic experience, or even more commonly through the influence of false teaching and a skewed theology. In relation to this latter point, Clint Arnold believes that "the critical thrust of the passage is directed against christological heresy. . . . Therefore, in its original context, demolishing strongholds refers to changing wrong ideas about Christ in the minds of believers who have been influenced by demonically inspired teaching" (Three Crucial Questions about Spiritual Warfare, 54-55).

Whatever the case, no matter the opposition, the good news is that we have access to powerful and efficacious resources, adequate to prevail over all resistance and to defeat every enemy (cf. Rom. 12:1-2; Eph. 4:20-24). We must dedicate ourselves to thinking and meditating on whatever is true and honorable and just and pure and lovely and commendable and excellent and worthy of praise (Phil. 4:8) and entrust ourselves to the power of the Spirit who can overcome the influence of every negative and destructive thought.

Sam

No one knew this better than the apostle Paul, the victim of repeated misinformation and rumor. It appears yet again in 2 Corinthians 10:1-2. But as you read it, take careful note of his response:

"I, Paul, myself entreat you, by the meekness and gentleness of Christ - I who am humble when face to face with you, but bold toward you when I am away! - I beg of you that when I am present I may not have to show boldness with such confidence as I count on showing against some who suspect us of walking according to the flesh" (2 Cor. 10:1-2).

There's no great mystery about what was happening behind the scenes in this ancient city and church. Enemies of Paul, those envious of his influence and authority, had spread the rumor that he was two-faced, that he lacked the integrity to be himself at all times, that he adapted to his circumstances in a way that was inconsistent with his true character, that he related to people from motives that were self-serving and cared only about the preservation of his own reputation and well being.

Paul articulates this accusation in a somewhat sarcastic way, describing himself as one who is "humble when face to face with you, but bold toward you when I am away." In other words, he had heard what was being said of him in Corinth. "The rumor is fast and spreading," said Paul, "that when I'm in your presence I lack the courage to be forthright and strong about my opinions. They say I'm a weakling, that I so fear your rejection and so selfishly covet your approval that I'm careful not to say or do anything that would upset you or put my image at risk. ‘Look at Paul,' they say. ‘Such a timid man; so meek and subservient and deferential to the desires of others.' Ah, but when I'm away and out of your reach, then I let loose and exert my apostolic authority, boldly insisting on your complete obedience. When I'm far removed from your presence and feel safe, I suddenly put on a different face and assume an authoritarian posture to get my way in your midst."

What could possibly have led to such charges? Is there something in the way Paul had conducted himself that contributed to this misunderstanding? It's possible that two factors may have played a part.

You may recall the firm and unyielding position Paul took regarding the man guilty of incest (see 1 Cor. 5). Paul had insisted on the corporate discipline of this unrepentant sinner. He evidently mentioned it again in the so-called non-canonical "severe" letter he wrote to them (2 Cor. 2:3-4). It's entirely possible that some used this as an excuse to accuse him of being bold "at a distance", when he was, so to speak, out of the reach of any personal consequences for his authority.

As for the charge of being weak when present among them, this may have come as a result of his "painful visit" (2 Cor. 2:1) when he chose not to immediately discipline some who were guilty of immorality. In any case, the rumors were vicious and hurtful: "Paul, we simply don't trust you. You appear selfishly pragmatic. Your behavior leads us to believe you'll do whatever is convenient and serves your interests, regardless of how it may affect us."

One author sums it up as follows:

"It is clear that Paul has been accused of being a cowardly bully who is very good at writing domineering letters. They said that in person he was a craven weakling, an ineffectual wimp. But he had megalomaniac pretensions: a timid puppy who barked like a 'bold' rottweiler from behind the fence! 'His letters are weighty and forceful,' they said, 'but in person he is unimpressive and his speaking amounts to nothing' (10:10)" (165).

But there was even more to their charge. They suspected Paul "of walking according to the flesh" (v. 2). This had to be just as distressing, if not more so, than the accusation that he was two-faced. Here they are questioning his relationship to the Holy Spirit, insinuating that he lived his life and made his decisions and chose his words without regard to the leading of the Spirit. Far from being a Spirit-filled and Spirit-led man, they were saying he was devoid of the Spirit's presence, relied little on the Spirit's power, and simply followed the promptings of his flesh! Ouch!

Paul was undoubtedly deeply wounded by this display of distrust on the part of the Corinthians. Anger probably also factored into his response. It would have been so very easy and natural to assume a self-defensive posture and explode in righteous rage. But note well two distinctive features in his reply.

First, despite the fact that he has been charged with being "bold" and "insistent" only in his letters (cf. v. 10), Paul refuses to take the bait and blast them with apostolic commands. Rather he appeals, using language that is deeply personal and emotional, even tender ("I, Paul, myself entreat you").

Second, instead of appealing to the majestic and irresistible authority of the risen and exalted Lord, he grounds his appeal in "the meekness and gentleness of Christ" (v. 1). He points to those two characteristics of Jesus that portray him as slow to take offense, willing to bear reproach, and self-sacrificing. These, Paul says, are my model for ministry. These, Paul says, are the spirit in which I make my appeal.

The two words summarize Jesus as gentle, gracious, not given to retaliation or malice in his relations with others, free from contentiousness or aggression. Paul probably has in mind the entire demeanor of our Lord's earthly life and especially his posture of non-retaliation during his beatings and eventual crucifixion (cf. 1 Peter 2:23).

Zechariah had long ago prophesied of the Messiah that he would be, above all things, "humble" (Zech. 9:9), something that Jesus declared of himself in Matthew 11:29. Humility and meekness and lowliness of heart were characteristics of the heart that Jesus highly valued and blessed (cf. Mt. 5:5).

Paul says, in effect, "Don't expect me to respond to your sins against me any differently than Jesus responded to those who sinned against him. If he could humble himself and choose the path of gentleness, so must I."

But let no one misunderstand the apostle or again take his words as an indication that he will abdicate the position Christ has bestowed upon him. Paul fully intends to be as "bold" as he must in order to put things right when he finally arrives. The words "with such confidence as I count on showing" could more accurately be rendered "with which I dare to be courageous." The point is this: "Far from flaunting his authority by rushing into disciplinary action, Paul envisions the prospect as a dare that cannot be avoided, not a challenge to be encountered with relish" (Carson, 36).

As Murray Harris has noted, in v. 2a "Paul is pleading with the Corinthians to avoid forcing him to act boldly . . . in a display of his confidence as an apostle having the Lord's authority (10:8). In effect he is saying, ‘Don't mistake the timidity that some people credit me with . . . for weakness and the inability or unwillingness to act with authority and dispatch'" (673).

As noted above, some had also accused Paul of walking "according to the flesh" (v. 2). The word "flesh" is generally used by Paul in one of three ways: (1) as a neutral reference to the physical body; (2) as a pejorative reference to the fallen, sinful nature; or (3) as a reference to the standards of excellence as the world judges excellence. Here he has in mind this third notion. Their calumny against Paul was that he is unimpressive, ineffective, a third-rate orator who is not sufficiently worthy to warrant remuneration, and inexperienced in visions and revelations which are the hallmark of spirituality (as they define it). He simply "does not attain to the high standards of spirituality and leadership that they claim for themselves! He lives and serves at the lowly level of this world, of flesh; they minister as dynamic, spiritual leaders whose spiritual experiences attest their superiority, and whose rhetoric demonstrates their God-given graces" (Carson, 37-8).

There is much for us to learn from this. Perhaps the greatest practical lesson is the importance of a proper balance between humility and tenderness in dealing with those who sin against us and a determination to hold our ground in accordance with whatever authority the Lord has granted. Paul was neither a bully nor would he be bullied. He took Jesus as his role model. Aggression was out of the question, but that didn't entail an abandonment of the rightful authority granted him by the risen Christ.

Oh, how easily we gravitate to one of two extremes, giving more weight than is due to one or the other of these crucial characteristics. Either we equate humility and gentleness with a cowardly withdrawal and a reluctance to draw a line in the sand, or we insensitively crack the whip of authority without regard for the welfare of the souls entrusted to our care. May Paul's godly and Christ-like example be an encouragement to us all!

Sam

This is certainly the case when it comes to the stewardship of our finances, as we have already seen on several occasions here in 2 Corinthians 8-9. The fact that God is always prior, that his grace awakens, supplies, and sustains our giving in no way diminishes the virtue of our actions. I doubt if anyone this side of heaven will ever adequately account for this. Explaining how the antecedence of divine sovereignty is perfectly consistent with subsequent human responsibility is certainly beyond my abilities. Perhaps all that we need to know at present is that it's biblical.

So, as we bring our study of these two chapters to a close, I want once again for you to observe how definitive Paul is in making certain that all glory and honor and credit go to God for our giving.

Yes, this "ministry" of "service" undoubtedly supplied the needs of the saints in Jerusalem. They were greatly and gloriously sustained and helped by the generous offering of the saints in Macedonia, Corinth, and elsewhere (v. 12). What an incredible blessing this is to behold and to see how it builds and nourishes mutual love and fellowship among the saints ("they long for you and pray for you," v. 14).

Yes, the Corinthians will be seen to have submitted to this task, an obedience that is the fruit of their embrace of the gospel.

Yes, the Corinthians will be known as a people overflowing in goodness. The "generosity" of their "contribution" will be acknowledged by all (v. 13).

But make no mistake about it. God was beneath and behind it all! Look again at what Paul says:

"For the ministry of this service is not only supplying the needs of the saints, but is also overflowing in many thanksgivings to God. By their approval of this service, they will glorify God because of your submission flowing from your confession of the gospel of Christ, and the generosity of your contribution for them and for all others, while they long for you and pray for you, because of the surpassing grace of God upon you. Thanks be to God for his inexpressible gift!" (2 Cor. 9:12-15).

Note first that "the thanksgiving is given to the ultimate benefactor, God, not to the intermediaries, the Corinthians" (Harris, 646; v. 12b). Paul made this crystal clear in v. 11 when he acknowledged that human generosity produces "thanksgiving to God." Why would God be thanked if the ultimate and sufficient cause of this ministry was in the hearts of the Corinthians? Credit to whom credit is due! God is thanked because he is the one who stirred and sustained their commitment to give. This, in fact, is our ultimate aim in giving: the glory of God!

Furthermore, why will they "glorify God" for the willing submission and obedient confession and generous contribution of the Corinthians (v. 13)? Again, the only credible explanation is that God is the gracious source of their virtuous acts. God had imparted the desire to give and had provided the resources to fulfill it. The giver always gets the glory.

Note also that it was "because of the surpassing grace of God" (v. 14) "upon" and in the Corinthians that this offering first took shape and was finally consummated. It is only appropriate, therefore, that "thanks" be given "to God for his inexpressible gift" (v. 15).

Finally, consider again Paul's use of the word for "grace" (charis) throughout these two chapters. We first saw how God gives "grace" to his people (see 8:1 and 9:14), enabling their hearts to overcome covetousness and greed and experience the joy of generosity. Then, secondly, the word "grace" is used to describe the very gift itself, the money that the Corinthians happily sent to Jerusalem (see 8:7). Finally, this leads to the giving of "thanks" (the Greek word is eu-charis-tia) to God for this remarkable scenario. Paul wants to make sure that God is seen as both first and last: his grace generates the giving, the goal of which is the glory of God!

What is God's "inexpressible gift" for which Paul and all others offer thanks? Is it "the surpassing grace of God" operative in the Corinthians, mentioned in v. 14 (cf. 8:1)? Or is it God's gracious gift of Jesus (2 Cor. 8:9) who, though rich, impoverished himself to make us rich? The answer is both! As Tasker said, Jesus Christ is "the divine gift which inspires all gifts."

That said, the gift that transcends human speech is preeminently Jesus himself. Throughout his letters Paul employs every manner of speech, a vast array of adjectives, and the most vivid imagery imaginable to describe the splendor and sufficiency of God's gift to us in Christ Jesus. But there are limits to the mind of man. There are times when our dictionaries prove deficient. When explanation fails, exclamation takes over. When words fall short, wonder ensues. Jesus is, as Paul says, "inexpressible" (the word he uses is found only here in all the NT). He is ineffable, and leaves the adoring soul stunned, speechless, and gasping for breath.

And now, before closing our study of these two chapters in 2 Corinthians, a brief summary of the twelve principles of Christian stewardship is in order.

(1)        Giving is always and ever the fruit of an antecedent work of divine grace. We are energized to give and find the resources for doing so because God has graciously stirred and sustained our concern for others and then supplied us with seed for sowing (2 Cor. 8:1; cf. 1 Chron. 29:12-19). God is always and ever the reservoir. We are the pipes.

(2)        Giving is to be in proportion to wealth. Precisely what percentage that might be is never stated by Paul and was obviously of no concern to him (2 Cor. 8:3,11,12; 9:8-11; cf. 1 Cor. 16:2).

(3)        Giving is to be regarded as a privilege; indeed, it is an act of worship and praise (2 Cor. 8:4; cf. Phil. 4:15-18).

(4)        Giving is to be voluntary, not forced, pressured, or "under the gun" (2 Cor. 8:3,11-12; 9:5,7).

(5)        Giving is to be preceded by the dedication and consecration of oneself to the Lord's work in whatever capacity possible (2 Cor. 8:5).

(6)        Giving is to be characterized by a spirit of reciprocity (2 Cor. 8:13-15). When we consider the plight of those in need, let us never forget that the day may come when we ourselves may be dependent on them.

(7)        The administration of Christian giving should take into consideration the wise principles that governed Paul's approach to the collection: test and approve those who are entrusted with financial matters in the church; never entrust such matters to one person alone; such people should have a good reputation in the church and in the surrounding community (2 Cor. 8:16-24)

(8)        Giving is not to be impetuous but rather characterized by forethought and prayer (2 Cor. 9:7).

(9)        Giving must never be poisoned by regret over what we perceive has been lost or by covetousness for what we might otherwise have purchased for ourselves (2 Cor. 9:5,7).

(10)      Giving should always be cheerful and joyous (2 Cor. 9:7).

(11)      Giving should not be undertaken with a view to personal enrichment. Rather, one should give with the expectation that God will supply the giver with abundance for additional giving (2 Cor. 9:8-11).

(12)      All giving should find its source, power, and pattern in the grace of God in Christ (2 Cor. 8:1,9; 9:14-15). In view of the indescribable, inexpressible, and ultimately unfathomable gift of the Father in and through the Son, generosity on our part should never be constrained but rather flow freely from a heart set free from sin and selfishness.

Sam

Book Review

Why We're Not Emergent

(by two guys who should be)

Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck

(Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2008; 256 pp.)

Part Five

In Chapter Nine, DeYoung and Kluck turn their attention to a number of emphases within emergent Christianity that they believe are deviations from biblical orthodoxy (a focus, by the way, that virtually all emergents would contend is the very reason why we need emergent Christians; there are far too many "fundamentalists" like DeYoung, Kluck, and Storms who insist on analyzing others' theological positions to determine if they're orthodox or not!).

They begin with the emergent focus on the Kingdom of God and point out that it isn't what emergents affirm about the kingdom that is disturbing but what they omit or perhaps even deny. Yes, the kingdom is, at least to some extent, the announcement that God has inaugurated in Christ Jesus his plan for bringing ultimate peace, justice and compassion on the earth. It is, to some extent, a "this worldly" revolution of love and reconciliation to which we have all been summoned. "It is a call to join the network of God that breaks down the walls of racism, nationalism, and ecological harm. The kingdom of God," notes DeYoung, in paraphrasing the emergent view, "is like a dance of love, vitality, harmony, and celebration" (184; these metaphors and descriptions, says DeYoung, are taken from McLaren's book, The Secret Message of Jesus, 138-48).

Thus, according to emergent Christianity, the message of the kingdom in the ministry of Jesus was not primarily about certain doctrines to believe but about a manner and style of life to live. Citing McLaren, "the kingdom of God . . . is a revolutionary, counter-cultural movement - proclaiming a ceaseless rebellion against the tyrannical trinity of money, sex, and power" (184). Or again, according to McLaren, the message of God's grace and the forgiveness of sins through the cross work of Christ is, at best, only "a footnote to a gospel that is much richer, grander, and more alive, a gospel that calls you to become a disciple and to disciple others, in authentic community, for the good of the world" (The Church in Emerging Culture, 215). A footnote to the gospel? Hmmm.

The authors of this book are not protesting against this understanding of the kingdom, unless, of course, the kingdom is reduced to little more "than a plan for world peace" (184). What disturbs them is the absence of truly good news in this message. "Our cursed world needs more than a plan for refurbished morals. It needs a Savior because it is so full of sinners. I just cannot understand how the gospel as a call to become a disciple for the good of the world is richer, grander, and more alive than a gospel that announces God's grace, forgiveness, and the free gift of salvation" (186).

DeYoung is understandably befuddled by a "gospel" that announces no news of God's redemptive work on our behalf and ignores the call of Christ to Nicodemus that one "must be born again" (John 3:3). Do emergents really believe in original sin and the need for divine mercy and the existence of hell? "I understand the emergent concern about living rightly in this life," says DeYoung. "That was a concern of Jesus. But why are heaven and hell as eternal destinations so routinely marginalized in emergent books? If heaven and hell are real and endure forever, as Jesus believed them to be, they ought to shape everything we do during our short time on earth" (186).

Now, I'm no prophet, but I think I know the answer to DeYoung's question. I think I know why hell plays such a minimal role in the emergent understanding of the "kingdom of God" and the "gospel". Although no emergent author has yet explicitly endorsed universalism (although some see it in Spencer Burke's book, A Heretic's Guide to Eternity; I happily confess to not having read it), I suspect that it is lurking quietly beneath the surface of much of what they believe. In fact, I will make a prediction. Within three or four years, several prominent emergent church authors will "come out of the closet" and admit they embrace salvific universalism. Given what appears to be the denial of original sin by Steven Chalke (The Lost Message of Jesus, 67) and the reinterpretation of hell by Brian McLaren (The Last Word and the Word after That) and the rejection of wrath as an essential attribute of the divine nature and the almost uniform dismissal of penal substitutionary atonement as "cosmic child abuse" and the tendency to question whether conscious faith in Christ alone is essential for salvation, what other possible pathway can they walk? If man is not by nature wicked and God does not by nature require the satisfaction of his wrath in the atoning sacrifice of Christ and hell is little more than what we create for ourselves on earth, what stands in the way of affirming that all mankind will eventually be saved?

The authors are equally concerned that the kingdom of God among emergents "often ends up sounding largely political" (189). Although there may well be proponents of the political right among emergent church leaders, "it is undeniable that left-wing politics is a common thread running throughout the emergent literature" (189). God "may not be a Republican or a Democrat, but from reading the emergent literature, it sure seems like He votes Democrat" (189).

I must say that I'm less concerned with this point than I am with the theological issues we've addressed. But I do agree with DeYoung and Kluck when they argue that the problem is not in working to eliminate injustice (who would ever suggest that it is), but rather "in thinking that this is the main business of the church as church. . . . [W]hen the church's business is mainly political and its unifying creeds are political instead of doctrinal, the church and state overlap until the church becomes redundant" (190).

DeYoung then turns his attention to what has become virtually the standard rejection by emergent believers of the penal substitutionary atonement of Christ. I will forego expanding on this point here, since I've addressed it at great length in my review of a book that everyone should read (Pierced for our Transgressions; see the review at my website under Recommended, Book Reviews).

As I've previously noted, emergent leaders have also "practiced a studied agnosticism about hell and God's wrath, deliberately avoiding the topic in sermons or writing, because, they say, it's not our business who is there - if anyone is there at all" (196). I, on the other hand, think it is precisely our business and our ministry. If, as the apostle Paul says, people are of two and only two groups, "those who are being saved" and "those who are perishing" (2 Cor. 2:15), the determining factor being their response to the gospel of God in Christ Jesus that we have been called to proclaim, how dare we justify our contempt for their eternal welfare by saying it is "not our business"?

The final concern in this chapter is the tendency among emergents to avoid the suggestion that conscious faith in Jesus Christ alone is the pathway to eternal life. Their professed admiration for non-Christian religions and their reluctance to pronounce the unrepentant and unbelieving as hell bound is of great concern. "I hope I am wrong," writes DeYoung, "but I can find no indication in McLaren's writings that belief in Jesus as the Christ and the unique Son of God is necessary for entrance into heaven or the kingdom" (202).

The early church, write DeYoung and Kluck, "was important because it was intolerable, and it was intolerable because it was intolerant. Not socially intolerant or coldhearted or obnoxiously abrasive, but intolerant of any salvation but the cross, any God but theirs, and any Lord but Christ" (204).

Following two short and very insightful chapters by Kluck on Rob Bell (Chapter 10) and Tony Jones (Chapter Eleven), the book concludes with a call to emergent churches everywhere to reconsider the principles and truths spoken by Jesus to the seven churches of Asia Minor in Revelation 2-3. In a word, "emergent Christians need to catch Jesus' broader vision for the church - His vision for a church that is intolerant of error, maintains moral boundaries, promotes doctrinal integrity, stands strong in times of trial, remains vibrant in times of prosperity, believes in certain judgment and certain reward, even as it engages the culture, reaches out, loves, and serves" (248).

What we need most, say DeYoung and Kluck, is the knowledge of a God who is holy and righteous and loving and all-powerful and sovereign and merciful, who has acted in history through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, to deliver spiritually dead and morally depraved sinners from eternal death that they might live in ever-increasing enjoyment of him to his everlasting glory.

Call this "linear, dogmatic, or hopelessly otherworldly, but it's what Christians have held onto for millennia as their only comfort in life and in death. And by God's grace such an articulation of the Christian message will emerge and reemerge, unapologetically and unhesitatingly, as front and center in all our churches" (253).

So, please go purchase and read this book. Please.

Sam

Book Review

Why We're Not Emergent

(by two guys who should be)

Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck

(Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2008; 256 pp.)

Part Four

In Chapter Seven, DeYoung sets his aim on the emergent perspective on modernism and postmodernism. I suspect that many of you will find that a bit tedious, and I can understand why. You'll be relieved to know that since I addressed many of these same issues in Parts 2 and 3 of my seven-part review of D. A. Carson's book, I'm going to forego any additional comments here (you can find those articles at my website, www.samstorms.com, under Recommended, in the Book Reviews section).

What is of special interest in this chapter, however, is DeYoung's excellent discussion of the role of preaching, both in the emergent and non-emergent world. With tongue firmly planted in his cheek, he has labeled this section, "Dialogue the Word, Timothy!", an obvious reference to Paul's famous exhortation in 2 Timothy 4:2.

DeYoung reminds us of Paul's tireless exhortation to his young disciples that they teach and preach and rebuke and encourage others, and that they guard themselves and the flock of God against false doctrine (see 1 Timothy 4:6, 11, 13; 5:17; 2 Tim. 2:1-5; Titus 1:9). These texts notwithstanding, "many in the emerging church lament the central place preaching has received in Protestant worship services" (155). Actually, the objection is less about preaching and more the style or manner in which it is engaged. It is the notion of a ministerial monologue in which one ordained Christian speaks a message to a congregation of unordained, passive listeners that evokes their negative response.

The purpose of preaching, they tell us, is not informational but transformational. Communal communication, in which all are invited to somehow participate, is needed in today's world. Uni-directional, discursive sermons, delivered by seminary trained pastors, is a reflection of an Enlightenment mentality that is out of touch with the postmodern, image-driven, participatory culture of our day.

But DeYoung is right to point out a number of false dichotomies that lie beneath this criticism, namely, "that discursive communication is only interested in information and not formation, that it is a mere lecture isolated from family and community, and that it is purely pedagogical instead of celebrative. This is not helpful. We must refuse false dichotomies that force a wedge between head and heart, rationality and faith, truth and experience" (156). "I'm no big fan of the Enlightenment either," continues DeYoung, "but it is simply wrong to attribute every hint of linear thinking, propositional preaching, or discursive communication to some modern Enlightenment corruption" (156). And he proceeds in the next few pages to give copious counter-examples of such to the emergent claim.

I think DeYoung is right when he contends that "much of the emergent disdain for preaching is really an uneasiness about authority and control" (159). But he also argues that "the decline in preaching goes hand in hand with a lost confidence in the importance of truth claims. Preaching presupposes there is a message that must be proclaimed and believed. The very act of verbal proclamation by one man to God's people assumes that there is a word from God that can be ascertained, understood, and meaningfully communicated. This is what is being objected to in preaching, not simply the specter of modernism" (159).

And may I add to this that what may be driving much of the emergent disdain for linear, discursive preaching is their own regrettable experience of having been raised in churches where the proclamation often turned to legalistic oppression in which little if any voice was given to the congregation as a whole. No one, I hope, would endorse the insensitive authoritarianism that has characterized much of the preaching in western fundamentalism. But the abuses of this otherwise sacred ministry are no excuse to discard the practice or to ignore the biblical commands that we teach and preach the Word.

Following a brief analysis of Rob Bell's misuse of (Jewish) history (as well as comments on the same in the writings of Doug Pagitt and Brian McLaren, see pp. 160-65), DeYoung closes this chapter by arguing that many emergents are equally as shaped by modernism as those they criticize. In fact, when one looks carefully at some of the distinctive ideas and emphases of emergent authors it is difficult to differentiate their concerns from those of nineteenth-century theological liberalism. Says DeYoung:

"The preference for ethics over doctrine, the reservations about God's wrath and judgment, the perceived need to retranslate the Christian faith for a new time, the devaluing of propositional truths, the chastisement of firm doctrinal boundaries, the understanding of missions as social compassion and not conversion - these are all impulses of the modern world. So are the broad tolerance of general religious sentiment that is lacking in specificity and definition, the unwillingness to assert the Bible's complete truthfulness, the downplaying of original sin, and the direct appeals to bettering the world apart from the call to repent and be born again" (166).

Before concluding this installment, a brief but passionate comment is in order about one item that appears in Chapter Eight (much of which is given to a discussion of Peter Rollins' book).

If there is one undeniable common link between the theological liberalism of the last 150-175 years and contemporary emergent thought, it is the disinclination to discuss (if not an outright denial of the existence of) hell. Many emergent believers, Brian McLaren being chief and most outspoken among them, aren't preoccupied with hell. They dislike the way this biblical reality compels them to speak of "who's in" and "who's out". They feel it requires an act of discernment and judgment that only the arrogant and self-assured can make.

Let me be brutally honest and forthright: I am unapologetically preoccupied with hell, and for two simple reasons. First, the Bible says it is quite real, and second, the Bible says people are going there. I lie awake at night thinking about "who's in" and "who's out". I'm utterly and unashamedly obsessed with hell because I believe it is real, and because there are people I know and love who persist in their rejection of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior and who, apart from repentance and faith in him, will spend eternity there.

That's offensive language. But it's biblical language. And I'm obligated to be biblical even if it offends. One simply cannot affirm any concept of biblical authority and deny that it speaks often of those who are "in" and those who are "out". The language it uses is of the sheep and the goats (Mt. 25:31-46), the wheat and the tares (Mt. 13:36-43), believers and unbelievers (1 Cor. 14:22), the righteous and the wicked (Malachi 3:18), those "who are being saved" and those "who are perishing" (2 Cor. 2:15), those who receive the crown of life as over against those who suffer the second death (Rev. 2:10-11), and those who are granted access to the New Jerusalem and those who "will never enter it" (Rev. 20:22-27).

One must never read such texts or ponder their meaning with anything other than fear and trembling and a realization that if one is "in" it is altogether of sovereign grace and mercy shown unto otherwise hell-deserving sinners. To avoid, diminish, or, God forbid, deny such texts and the eternal destinies they affirm is the epitome of selfish disdain and lack of concern for lost souls. Either one is branded with the name of the Lamb or the mark of the Beast (Rev. 13:11-14:5) and our approach to life and ministry and preaching and the Christian faith as a whole must be governed by that inescapable reality.

What would have become of countless native Americans had David Brainerd (1718-47) not been preoccupied and obsessed with who's "in" and who's "out"? I dare say he would not have written in his diary, on Monday, April 19, 1742, these words of love and commitment to their eternal welfare:

"God enabled me so to agonize in prayer, that I was quite wet with sweat, though in the shade, and the wind cool. My soul was drawn out very much for the world; I grasped for multitudes of souls" (The Life of David Brainerd, Yale:162).

On the next day, Brainerd wrote:

"I think my soul was never so drawn out in intercession for others as it has been this night. Had a most fervent wrestle with the Lord tonight for my enemies" (162).

I praise God for people like David Brainerd and William Carey and Lottie Moon and Hudson Taylor and countless others who refused to turn a blind eye to the reality of eternal punishment as if to do so were a badge of "epistemological humility". I praise God for those who care deeply for lost souls and are willing to speak the truth, harsh and offensive though it be, that others might have eternal life.

This isn't the last time the subject of heaven and hell is addressed in this book. It appears again in Chapter Nine, together with a discussion of other basic biblical truths that many in the emergent movement either misunderstand or reject outright. To those we now turn our attention.

Sam

Book Review

Why We're Not Emergent

(by two guys who should be)

Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck

(Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2008; 256 pp.)

Part Three

I want to go on record that I love doctrine! When I explore the theological complexities of the Incarnation of the Son of God, my heart is strangely warmed. When I think deeply about his death and how it propitiates the Father and redeems and saves and breaks the power of the enemy, I get goose bumps up and down my spine. When I reflect on the relationship between the human and divine in the one person of Christ Jesus, and then contrast and distance the orthodox view from that of heresies such as Arianism and Socinianism, I get positively giddy!

In fact, I can't think of anything more important or crucial for all Christians individually and the church corporately than to take whatever steps are necessary to deepen and intensify our knowledge of God and the revelation of himself in Jesus Christ. To take this glorious truth, together with others as they are set forth in Scripture, and to formulate carefully worded statements of faith that identify what we call Protestant evangelical orthodoxy is one of the greatest joys I know as a Christian. And to differentiate these views from those that are outside the boundaries of biblical revelation, so that heterodoxy is seen as the soul-threatening, hell-deserving enemy which I believe it to be, is the responsibility of every Bible-believing Christian.

Do I believe that any statement of faith is impeccable, perfect in every affirmation and denial? No. We can never be comprehensive or infallible in our interpretation of the biblical text or in the theological conclusions we derive from it. Deep humility and a conscious awareness of our weaknesses and personal prejudices, together with a consistent dependence on the Holy Spirit and a readiness to alter our affirmations when they are shown by Scripture to be ill-conceived, must characterize all our theologizing. But theologize we must. Our eternal destiny hangs in the balance.

Human frailty and cultural influences notwithstanding, we must articulate as best we can what we believe are the foundational and non-negotiable truths of Holy Scripture. The Bible itself speaks unapologetically of "the whole counsel of God" (Acts 20:26-27), and of "the standard of teaching" to which we are committed (Romans 6:17), and of a "gospel", deviation from which calls forth an eternal "anathema" (Galatians 1:9), and of a "pattern" of "sound words" and the "good deposit" that have been entrusted to us (2 Timothy 1:13-14), and of "the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints" (Jude 3).

In case you hadn't figured it out by now, that in itself is more than enough to put me at serious odds with many, if not most, in the emergent movement. I fully expect that if they were to read the previous four paragraphs I would be immediately branded as a cold and calculating rationalist (or modernist) who's impervious to change, closed to conversation, who arrogantly thinks he's got the unfathomable God figured out, freeze-dried, and packaged away (I'm drawing on the language of Brian McLaren). I doubt if there's much I could say to convince them otherwise, so I won't waste my time trying. But this does lead us into a brief discussion of the emergent resistance to a focus on propositional truth about the Son of God and suspicion of all things theological.

As noted in the previous installment of this series of studies, a common refrain among emergents is, "Just give me Jesus!" In depth theological analyses and carefully articulated doctrinal formulations concerning the person and work of Christ (and a variety of other biblical truths) are viewed as a hindrance to vital spiritual relationship not only with Jesus but also between Christians. The determination to identify biblical orthodoxy, so we are told, only serves to sterilize our otherwise fertile faith and to divide by creating boundaries that determine who's "in" and who's "out", who's "orthodox" and who's "heterodox".

A typical statement is this one by Erwin McManus (who's actually less "emergent" than most): "The power of the gospel is the result of a person - Jesus Christ - not a message. The gospel is an event to be proclaimed, not a doctrine to be preserved" (108). But as DeYoung and Kluck point out, "how is the gospel event we proclaim different than [sic] a message? And how is a message about Jesus - say, who He is and what He did on earth - different than [sic] doctrine? We can tell people about Jesus every day until He returns again, but without some doctrinal content filling up what we mean by Jesus and why He matters, we are just shouting slogans, not proclaiming any kind of intelligible gospel" (108).

It's one thing to passionately proclaim, "It's all about Jesus!" But what is it about Jesus that we are supposed to be all about? It's one thing to rant against creeds and religious rituals, "but once we say something about why Jesus is glorious and what His life was like and what it accomplished, aren't we settling back into dogma and religion again?" (108).

This is again related to the emergent distaste for refined theological statements and what evangelicals have traditionally referred to as "orthodoxy" or right belief. As I read the New Testament it seems evident that the authors conceive of "orthopraxy", or right behavior, as flowing out of orthodoxy. The ethical imperative is always grounded in the theological indicative. One need only observe Paul's comments in Romans 12:1 and Ephesians 4:1 as examples. Emergents, on the other hand, will often simply conflate the two while placing primary emphasis on right behavior.

But we cannot afford to ignore the biblical emphasis on certain truths as foundational to all Christian living. As DeYoung and Kluck argue, "People go to hell for believing the wrong things" (see Gal. 1:8). "People within the church should be corrected when they believe the wrong things" (see Titus 1:9). And "People are sometimes to be kept out of your house for believing the wrong things" (see 2 John 9-10; 112).

There simply is no gospel without theology, for "as soon as you say Jesus died and rose again for your sins according to the Scriptures, you have doctrine. You have a message about what happened in history and what it means. That's theology" (113).

The authors are especially helpful in pointing out the emergent dislike for doctrinal boundaries. Statements of faith in which we articulate not only what we affirm but what we deny are rare in emergent churches. At most, they will cite their affirmation of the Apostles and Nicene Creeds. But doctrinal affirmations, says Tony Jones, national coordinator of Emergent, are "a modernistic endeavor that I'm not the least bit interested in" (117).

I must confess that when I visit a church or navigate to their website, that's the first thing I look for. I want to know what boundaries they draw and why. I want to know if it is biblical Christianity for which they stand and whether truth is important. After reading Jones's comments, DeYoung wonders, "Are there no doctrinal beliefs (besides believing in statements of faith) or ethical behaviors (besides undefined lovelessness) that put one outside the camp?" (118) You may find this distasteful, but the fact remains that "Christianity cannot and does not exist without boundaries" (118). There is much to which we say Yes theologically, but there is also much to which we must say No.

There are times in reading emergent literature that one wonders whether they have a concept of theological error and doctrinal falsehood. If theology is merely a dialogue and journey and conversation, but does not at any point reach a definitive and intelligible conclusion about what is true and false, on what grounds do we assure anyone of eternal salvation and others of eternal peril?

An excellent, as well as deeply disturbing, example of this tendency among emergents is the book by Peter Rollins, How (Not) to Talk of God. I hope to review this regrettable book in a subsequent article, but here I only take note of it as typical of the biblical and theological skepticism among many emergents. Rollins, founder of the Ikon community in Belfast, writes with an acknowledged skepticism about ever knowing anything truly about God. Of course, he does have a few things to say about God, for "that which we cannot speak of," he concedes, "is the one thing about whom and to whom we must never stop speaking" (123). But when we talk about God we can never make him known. It is as "unknown" that we "know" him. Citing DeYoung, "we believe in God but remain dubious concerning what we believe about God, to the point that we disbelieve the God we also believe in, ‘holding atheism and theism together in the cradle of faith'" (123; holding atheism "in the cradle of faith"; hmmm, now there's a thought). Thus, says DeYoung, in summarizing Rollins, "idolatry is not worshiping the wrong God but believing ‘that our ideas actually represent the way that God and the world really operate'" (123). So when we speak about God we aren't really speaking of God but only of our understanding of God.

DeYoung responds:

"I keep wondering, am I missing something here? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes; we do see through a glass dimly; we do not fully understand God; we don't know God as God knows Himself; our words can't capture the essence of God. God is greater than we can conceive - but what about the 1,189 chapters in the Bible? Don't they tell us lots of things about God that we are supposed to do more than doubt and not understand? Aren't the Scriptures written so that we might believe and be sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see and even proclaim this faith to others?" (123-24).

He finds it hard to believe, and include me here as well, "that the apostles went off into the world telling people about the God they couldn't speak of and inviting the people to journey with them as they grew in their mutual un/knowing about the God they disbelieved in" (124).

Where does that leave us? Again, I can no better than quote DeYoung at some length:

"Young people will give their lives for an exclamation point, but they will not give their lives for a question mark, not for very long anyway. Once the protest runs out and the emerging church has its own blogdom, and conferences, and church networks, and book deals, there will be no exclamation point, and all that's left will be ethical intentions and passionate appeals for kingdom living. This will not sustain a movement - the protest will for a while, but once that's gone there will be no great vision of God, no urgent proclamation of salvation, no eternal judgment or reward at stake, just a call to live rightly and love one another. That message will sell on Oprah, Larry King, and at the Oscars, but it won't sustain and propel a gospel-driven church, because it isn't the gospel" (127-28).

I hope after reading that paragraph you see why I think you need to read this entire book. To be continued . . .

Sam

Book Review

Why We're Not Emergent

(by two guys who should be)

Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck

(Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2008; 256 pp.)

Part Two

A consistent refrain heard among the emergent is that the Christian life is primarily about the journey and our experience along the way, and less about the destination. The result, at least for them, is that "the Christian life requires less doctrinal reflection and more personal introspection," which "feeds on and into a preoccupation with our own stories" (34). DeYoung identifies what he believes are three problematic implications of this perspective, only two of which I'll mention.

First, it undermines the knowability of God. All Christians in every tradition have acknowledged that God is inexhaustible. No one will ever know God exhaustively, not even in the glorified state of heaven. But that doesn't mean we can't know anything about him accurately. According to DeYoung, "emergent leaders are allowing the immensity of God to swallow up His knowability. In good postmodern fashion, they are questioning whether we can have any real, accurate knowledge about God in the first place" (35).

Here again we find a false dichotomy. Emergents leave us with what appear to be only two options: either you arrogantly claim to know everything about God rationally or you know nothing about him at all. Or if you do know something, it is "personal" or "relational" knowledge. We see here the typical emergent distrust of language and God's apparent inability or reluctance to communicate truth to the human mind. But this runs counter to everything we see in Scripture and in redemptive history. Says DeYoung:

"The God of the Bible is nothing if He is not a God who speaks to His people. To be sure, none of us ever infinitely understand God in a nice, neat package of affirmations and denials, but we can know Him truly, both personally and propositionally. God can speak. He can use human language to communicate truth about Himself that is accurate and knowable, without ceasing to be God because we've somehow got Him all figured out" (37).

On several occasions in reading books by emergents, I've come across their appeal to the illustration of the blind men encountering an elephant. One touches the trunk, another the tail, another his leg, and yet another his ear. Each formulates a different understanding of what an elephant is, none of which, however, has an entirely accurate grasp. "But what if the elephant spoke," responds DeYoung, "and said, ‘Quit calling me crocodile, or peacock, or paradox. I'm an elephant, for crying out loud! That long thing is my trunk. That little frayed thing is my tail. That big floppy thing is my ear.' And what if the elephant gave us ears to hear his voice and a mind to understand his message (cf. 1 Cor. 2:14-15)? Would our professed ignorance about the elephant and our unwillingness to make any confident assertions about his nature mean we were especially humble, or just deaf?" (37)

This isn't to deny the element of mystery in Christian experience (another especially popular word among emergents). God will always remain inexhaustible and infinite. But "mystery as an expression of our finitude is one thing. Mystery as a way of jettisoning responsibility for our beliefs is another thing" (39).

A second problem with the emergent view of journey is that it tends to equate uncertainty with humility. To argue that we can accurately know who God is as revealed in Jesus, so the emergents tell us, is "the same as pinning down Jesus and summing up God", a reflection not only of our stupidity but arrogance. But why can we not have both a humble searching for God, a recognition of his ultimate infinity, together with a measure of confidence, even certainty, that what knowledge we do have of him is true? "There is a place for questions," notes DeYoung. "There is a time for conversation. But there is also the possibility of certainty, not because we have dissected God like a freshman biology student dissects a frog, but because God has spoken to us clearly and intelligibly and has given us ears to hear His voice" (40).

Again, "it is not a mark of humility when we refuse to speak about God and His will except in the most ambiguous terms. It is an assault on the Holy Spirit and disbelief in God's ability to communicate rational, clear statements about Himself in human language" (40). This points yet again to the "either-or" mentality in many emergent authors. It is the false dichotomy that says you must know something exhaustively or omnisciently in order to know it truly. "But aren't we capable of knowing truth unambiguously without having to know it with invincible certainty?" (41) Yes.

This tendency among emergents to insist on the inherent uncertainty of knowledge becomes problematic when "you write books trying to convince people to believe or behave in certain ways" (41). In other words, "radical uncertainty sounds nice as a sort of protest against the perceived dogmatism of evangelical Christianity [which, I might add, often appears to be the primary focus of all emergents], but it gets in the way when you want [to] prove your point" (41). Somewhere in the midst of your rants against certainty and your insistence on the ultimate unknowability of God you will need to be clear about your beliefs if you hope to persuade others they are true.

One example of the celebration of ambiguity among emergents concerns their stance on homosexuality. Let's be clear about one thing. As Christians we must display the same compassion and kindness toward the broken and struggling as did Jesus. All people should be treated with dignity and love. But that shouldn't prevent us from drawing a line on ethical issues on which the Word of God speaks. I applaud the desire not to hurt anyone and the recognition that homosexuality in particular is a complex issue. But the refusal of many emergents to take a stance on this subject "also hurts people - it hurts those struggling to overcome sexual temptation, it hurts those gently calling homosexuals (along with other sinners) to repentance, and it hurts those who dare to speak with certainty on the issue" (47).

Following a brief chapter (Two) in which Kluck introduces us to Rob Bell ("He has the requisite black-framed glasses that everyone our age who considers himself learned has these days. I have them too," confesses Kluck [56]), and his best-selling book Velvet Elvis, DeYoung continues his interaction with the issue of knowledge and propositional truth (Chapter Three).

In particular, he focuses on the emergent view of the Bible. Emergent Christians still love the Bible, or say they do, but for a different reason. The way the Bible functions in their lives has taken on a new shape. The Bible isn't viewed as the authoritative, inerrant and objective revelation of God that provides us with eternal and timeless truth. It is, rather, a unique collection of literary artifacts that tells a story which we are invited to join.

At the center of the emergent (postmodern) view of Scripture is the disdain for propositional truth. A propositional statement is simply an assertion that can be either true or false. Either what is proposed corresponds to reality (and is true) or does not (and is false). Emergent Christians, however, don't like to think of the Bible in these terms. They rightly point to the fact that Scripture is filled with stories and parables and questions and poetry and a variety of other literary genres. Christianity, they say, is fundamentally a relationship with a person, not belief in propositions.

Strange thing, though: that last statement is a proposition! To assert that Christianity is a relationship with a person rather than belief in propositions is a propositional statement that is either true or false. Try as they may to escape propositional truth, even emergents must employ a propositional statement to deny them (or to minimize their importance). More important still, this way of articulating things forces us into another false dichotomy, as if to say one must embrace the Bible either as a narrative that leads us into relationship or as propositional statements that call for affirmation.

At the heart of the emergent worries over propositional statements is their fear that it reduces the Bible to a cold and sterile collection of theological assertions that we merely analyze, examine, exegete, and impose on others. There is a measure of truth here. Our aim isn't merely to dissect the Bible but to be transformed by it. And, as DeYoung rightly observes, "there are scores of freshly minted seminary-trained pastors who bore their congregations with endless word studies and the ins and outs of genitive absolutes" (71). But he is also right to ask, "Why can we only affirm the Bible as family story by denigrating the Bible as a book to be analyzed and theologized? Why not go the more historically responsible route and uphold the Bible as both?" (73)

Like it or not, the Bible is filled with propositional statements that call for a rational, informed response. In fact, one's belief concerning the truth claims of the Bible's many propositional assertions has eternal ramifications. Jesus himself said that "unless you believe that I am he you will die in your sins" (John 8:24). If we do not believe his claim to be the incarnate Word, we have no hope of eternal life. Yes, Jesus is a living person with whom we want a saving and life-changing relationship. But as DeYoung points out, the emergent movement "seems to be built on reductionistic, even modernistic, either-or categories. They pit information versus transformation, believing versus belonging, and propositions about Christ versus the person of Christ. The emerging church will be a helpful corrective against real, and sometimes perceived, abuses in evangelicalism when they discover the genius of the ‘and,' and stop forcing us to accept half-truths" (75).

It's not uncommon to hear an emergent Christian say, "I don't want truth about Jesus Christ. I want Jesus! Don't give me propositions about Jesus. Give me the person of Jesus!" That sounds sweet and spiritual and appealing and passionate. And it is precisely that sort of thinking that sends people to hell! You can't love Jesus Christ without loving propositional truths about him. If you do not embrace what Scripture says about Christ, the word "Christ" can mean anything you want it to mean.

So let me ask a question: What Christ do you believe in? With what Jesus do you long for relationship? Is it the Jesus who is God in human flesh? That's the doctrine, the propositional truth, of the Incarnation. Is it the Jesus who died as a sacrifice for sin, enduring God's wrath for sinners and thereby obtaining forgiveness? That's the doctrine, the propositional truth, of Atonement. Is it the Christ who rose from the dead? That's the doctrine, the propositional truth, of Resurrection. Is it the Christ in whom by faith alone and through grace alone we are declared righteous and saved? That's the doctrine, the propositional truth, of Justification.

Which Christ you believe and what you believe about him are not secondary questions. Is it the Christ of theological liberalism? Or the Christ of the cults? Perhaps you long for a relationship with the Christ of Islam. They believe in Jesus as a great prophet, beloved of God. But not until you assert in theological propositions biblical truths about Christ does your faith mean anything at all.

Reading their literature often leads me to wonder what emergents actually believe about the Bible. They typically avoid using words like inerrant, infallible, authoritative and revelatory, when describing the Scriptures. It's one thing to insist on the beauty of biblical narrative and its liberating power, "but unless people are convinced that the Bible is authoritative, true, inspired, and the very words of God, over time they will read it less frequently, know it less fully, and trust it less surely" (78).

Therefore, concludes DeYoung, "in our world of perpetual squishitude, why offer people more of what they already have - vague spirituality, uncertainty, and borderline interpretative relativism? Why not offer them something hard and old like the Law in which we delight, and dare to say and believe ‘Thus saith the Lord'?" (85)

Sam

Book Review

Why We're Not Emergent

(by two guys who should be)

Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck

(Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2008; 256 pp.)

Part One

I start to get really nervous when I hear others speak in unqualified, glowing and glorious terms about a book or speaker. Nothing can be that good, I say to myself. I'm really resistant to trendy endorsements of the next greatest thing. So I was obviously on guard when I began hearing and reading endorsements of the book, Why We're Not Emergent (by two guys who should be). But darn it, they were right. When I read blogger Phil Johnson's three word response to the book ("Wow, Wow, Wow"), I was more than a little suspicious. But now I'm ready to add one word to his summation: "Wow!" So, yes, I'm here to join the chorus and jump on the bandwagon and drink the Kool-Aid with the rest. This is the best book I've read in years.

Of the many questions I'm asked these days, especially by those perusing my website, perhaps the most frequent is whether or not I've written anything on the emergent church. Aside from my seven-part review of what D. A. Carson wrote in his book, Becoming Conversant with the Emerging Church (Zondervan, 2005), the answer is no. I'm quite sure that, having now read this book by Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck, I won't have to. They've said it all, and boy do they say it in a thoroughly persuasive and winsome way. So don't write or call asking if I've written an article or preached a sermon on this subject. Just go get this book and read it several times.

It's no longer true, obviously, that I haven't written anything on the emergent church. This five-part review of DeYoung and Kluck counts as something. But I don't regard it so much as my comments on the movement as I do an extended commentary on theirs. My fear is that some will not heed my advice and fail to read the book for themselves, so I'm going to give you the next best thing: my summation of its contents together with personal observations, rants, raves, and other assorted responses. So here goes.

Kevin DeYoung is the thirty-year-old pastor of University Reformed Church in East Lansing, Michigan, who is the first of two who "should be" emergent. "With all the television and movies I've seen," notes DeYoung, "I should be less linear, and more attuned to stories and images. At the very least, I should be in some quarter-life crisis of faith. I should be wondering how all that I've known as Christianity can survive this postmodern matrix. I should be questioning church as we know it and reimagining church for my generation. . . . I should be joining many of my peers in decrying the evangelical ‘bubble' and its closed-minded, doctrinally rigid accounting of the Christian faith. . . . I should have tried to make peace with my conservative upbringing and the more liberal Christianity of my professors by veering off into the emergent world of mystery, journey, and uncertainty - the perfect porridge of not quite fundamentalist, not quite liberal. I should have . . . rebelled against my family upbringing, finding it, in hindsight, stilted, stoic, and staid. I should have, like so many of those in the emerging church, chaffed against my evangelical past and charted a more emerging future. But I haven't" (14).

Instead, DeYoung says that he preaches "long, doctrinal, expositional sermons that proclaim the uniqueness of Jesus Christ, the reality of hell, the demands of obedience, the call to evangelism, the duty of mercy ministry, and the glorious truths of unconditional election and particular redemption" (14).

Ted Kluck is thirty-one-years old and is a professional writer, mostly of books on sports themes. He describes himself as looking the part of an emergent Christian, but don't be deceived. "I really like church" (26), confesses Kluck, in spite of its "requisite plastic chairs, lame carpet, and bad coffee" (27). Kluck writes what he calls the "shorter, and more ‘experiential'" chapters in the book, while DeYoung devotes himself to the "longer and more propositional" and more "thinky and academic" ones (27).

Just so you know, I plan on devoting most of my time to the chapters by DeYoung. That's not because Kluck's are unimportant. Far from it. They are a sheer delight to read and you will miss much if you overlook them. But since they are of a more personal nature and portray his own encounters with emergent people and churches, I've decided to focus on the theological analysis of emergent found in DeYoung.

Before I go any further, a brief word about the term emergent is in order. DeYoung and Kluck wisely choose to use emergent and emerging interchangeably, in spite of all the efforts by many to draw some significant distinction between them. What's important for our purposes is that you know what emergent means. Instead of a formal definition, the authors provide this description. It's long, but quite typical of their insight and refreshing style. Trust me, you'll love it. Read it as if Jeff Foxworthy just said, "You might be a redneck if . . ."

"You might be an emergent Christian: if you listen to U2, Moby [this is Storms: will someone please tell me who or what "Moby" is?], and Johnny Cash's Hurt (sometimes in church), use sermon illustrations from The Sopranos, drink lattes in the afternoon and Guinness in the evenings, and always use a Mac; if your reading list consists primarily of Stanley Hauerwas, Henri Nouwen, N. T. Wright, Stan Grenz, Dallas Willard, Brennan Manning, Jim Wallis, Frederick Buechner, David Bosch, John Howard Yoder, Wendell Berry, Nancy Murphy, John Franke, Walter Winks [sic] and Lesslie Newbigin (not to mention McLaren, Pagitt, Bell, etc.) and your sparring partners include D. A. Carson, John Calvin, Martyn Lloyd-Jones, and Wayne Grudem; if your idea of quintessential Christian discipleship is Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King Jr., Nelson Mandela, or Desmond Tutu; if you don't like George W. Bush or institutions or big business or capitalism or Left Behind Christianity; if your political concerns are poverty, AIDS, imperialism, war-mongering, CEO salaries, consumerism, global warming, racism, and oppression and not so much abortion and gay marriage; if you are into bohemian, goth, rave, or indie; if you talk about the myth of redemptive violence and the myth of certainty; if you lie awake at night having nightmares about all the ways modernism has ruined your life; if you love the Bible as a beautiful, inspiring collection of works that lead us into the mystery of God but is not inerrant; if you search for truth but aren't sure it can be found; if you've ever been to a church with prayer labyrinths, candles, Play-Doh, chalk-drawings, couches, or beanbags (your youth group doesn't count); if you loathe words like linear, propositional, rational, machine, and hierarchy and use words like ancient-future, jazz, mosaic, matrix, missional, vintage, and dance; if you grew up in a very conservative Christian home that in retrospect seems legalistic, naïve, and rigid; if you support women in all levels of ministry, prioritize urban over suburban, and like your theology narrative instead of systematic; if you disbelieve in any sacred-secular divide; if you want to be the church and not just go to church; if you long for a community that is relational, tribal, and primal like a river or a garden; if you believe who goes to hell is no one's business and no one may be there anyway; if you believe salvation has a little to do with atoning for guilt and a lot to do with bringing the whole creation back into shalom with its Maker; if you believe following Jesus is not believing the right things but living the right way; if it really bugs you when people talk about going to heaven instead of heaven coming to us; if you disdain monological, didactic preaching; if you use the word ‘story' in all your propositions about postmodernism - if all or most of this torturously long sentence describes you, then you might be an emergent Christian" (20-22).

Note well, this means you might be an emergent Christian, not that you certainly are. After all, there are a few things in that long list that I applaud, but I'm far from being emergent in any sense of the term! You also might be inclined to respond to this descriptive sentence by saying, "But there are so many false dichotomies! It's not always ‘either-or' but sometimes ‘both-and'." Of course! But that's one of the annoying things about emergents. They are given to an array of false dichotomies. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The fact is, DeYoung and Kluck themselves applaud some of what they say about emergent distinctives:

"We too are weary of marketing gimmicks, how-to sermons, watered-down megachurches, and the effects of modernism. We fully recognize that the Bible has been abused and no one understands it exhaustively. We agree that there is more to Christianity than doctrinal orthodoxy. We welcome the emergent critique of reductionistic methods of ‘becoming Christian' (sign a card, raise your hand, say a prayer, etc.). We are glad for the emergent correction reminding us that heaven is not a cloud up above for disembodied souls in the sky, but the re-creation of the entire cosmos. We further agree that we ought to be concerned about bringing heaven to earth, not just getting ourselves to heaven. In short, we affirm a number of the emergent diagnoses. It's their prescribed remedies that trouble us most" (22-23).

This last sentence is important. For several years I've said that emergents are quite good at analyzing our culture and the trends that have captivated and often enslaved the church. But their proposed solutions to the problems they've identified are largely off the mark, even dangerous.

Well, enough by way of introduction. It's time to get down to specifics. My one wish is that you will be sufficiently intrigued by what you've read thus far that you go buy the book and become so immersed in reading it that you never return to additional installments of this lengthy review. Nothing would make me happier than to know that these are the last words of mine that you'll read (assuming, of course, that it's because you've been captivated by DeYoung and Kluck). But if you do choose to continue with me, please don't consider this review a substitute for studying the original.

Sam

"It was a great design of God to advance all the elect to an exceeding pitch of glory, such as eye has not seen. He intended to bring them to perfect excellency and beauty in his image and in holiness which is the proper beauty of spiritual beings, and to advance ‘em to a glorious degree of honor and also to an ineffable pitch of pleasure and joy." In all this, says Edwards, "God designed to accomplish the glory of the blessed Trinity in an exceeding degree" (125).

An ineffable pitch of pleasure and joy in God! This is his design for you, forever, for his glory. Amen.

The book was initially undertaken in response to concerns raised by the ministry in the U.K. of Morris Cerullo (his international organization is known as MCWE, or Morris Cerullo World Evangelism). The issue that stirred the waters was "the direct link he [Cerullo] appeared to make between the level of donors' contributions to his own particular ministry and the extent of God's blessing upon those donors' lives" (x).

Whatever else may be said of the prosperity movement, this is its foundational and driving force, namely, the belief that there is a direct, cause and effect, correlation between the size (i.e., quantity) of the "seed" one sows and the financial dividends it pays (many in the movement describe it as a spiritual "law" of return, as reliable and certain as gravity). According to the crasser forms of this "theology", the more one gives the more one gets. Getting for oneself is the goal and giving is the means. After all, or so they tell us, "We are children of the King" and therefore deserving of the newest, the best, and above all, the most. It is our "birthright", is it not?

I want to propose that the theology of Paul in 2 Corinthians 8-9 is of a decidedly different spirit. Yes, there is a giving that gets, but that is far and away different from giving in order to get. In the divine economy, says Paul, giving that is joyful, generous, spontaneous rather than coerced, and motivated by heartfelt compassion for those in need is a giving that results in getting. But the getting is not for personal gain but in order that the giver may have a bountiful supply for yet more giving.

Before digging deeply into this incredible truth, a brief summation of vv. 1-6 is in order. There we read:

"Now it is superfluous for me to write to you about the ministry for the saints, for I know your readiness, of which I boast about you to the people of Macedonia, saying that Achaia has been ready since last year. And your zeal has stirred up most of them. But I am sending the brothers so that our boasting about you may not prove vain in this matter, so that you may be ready, as I said you would be. Otherwise, if some Macedonians come with me and find that you are not ready, we would be humiliated - to say nothing of you - for being so confident. So I thought it necessary to urge the brothers to go on ahead to you and arrange in advance for the gift you have promised, so that it may be ready as a willing gift, not as an exaction. The point is this: whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully" (2 Cor. 9:1-6).

Paul's comment that the Corinthians' initial zeal to give stirred up "most" of the Macedonians is a healthy dose of realism. In other words, not all the believers in Macedonia gave generously with joy in the midst of their affliction (cf. 8:1-5). It would be too much to expect that they would.

As for the Corinthians and their earlier commitment to join in this endeavor to alleviate the poverty of the church in Jerusalem, Paul's initial excitement has been somewhat tempered. Titus has come from Corinth with the discouraging report that the collection had been put "on the back burner." His point in vv. 3-5 is that in light of his previous boasting about them this could now be a cause of some embarrassment to both him and them. Barnett is helpful here:

"Although Paul has applied a degree of moral pressure on the Corinthians by (1) holding up the example of the Macedonians (8:1-5), (2) by urgently reminding them of their own initial ‘desire' and ‘willingness' in the previous year (8:10-12), and (3) by telling them he had used their example of ‘willingness' and ‘preparedness' in promoting the appeal to the Macedonians (8:24; 9:2-3), nonetheless, it was important that their response was ‘voluntary' (8:3), as appropriate to the ‘grace of God/Christ' (8:2,9). Paul's words are not ‘command' but ‘advice' (8:8,10). Thus Paul wants their response to be ‘a free gift,' not ‘an exaction'" (434).

Whereas some think that v. 5 is describing two attitudes toward giving, either generosity or stinginess, I'm inclined to see here two ways that Paul envisioned securing their participation in the offering: either voluntarily or by pressure.

On the one hand, Paul does not want them to give simply because he's an apostle and they are bowing to his authority (although there's nothing inherently wrong with that). Neither fear of him nor guilt over sins committed nor the pride that results in a competitive drive to exceed the Macedonians would constitute the kind of giving that he will later say results in God's bountiful supply.

"I want it to spring spontaneously and joyfully from your heart," says Paul. "I want it to be primarily your idea, not mine. You've already shown a willingness in this regard that even stirred the Macedonians. So now bring it to fruition. Don't humiliate yourselves by a failure to follow through on your promise, and don't put me in the position of having to exercise an authority to exact from you a grudging and unwilling gift."

Here's what you must keep in mind, says Paul: "whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully" (v. 6). But doesn't this play directly into the hands of the proponents of prosperity? There it is: give a lot so you can get a lot.

Well, not exactly. Yes, on the one hand, bountiful giving results in bountiful getting. But bountiful getting, as he will make clear in the verses that follow, isn't for hoarding or padding one's retirement account or moving up in scale from a Honda Civic to a BMW. It's for more, greater, effusive bountiful giving. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's be sure we understand Paul's point in v. 6. In farming, what may initially appear to be a loss ("sowing") is in fact a gain ("reaping"). As one sows, so one reaps. But what determines whether a gift is "sparing" or "bountiful"?

We already seen from the example of the Macedonians in 2 Corinthians 8:1-2 that it is not determined by the quantity of the gift considered in the abstract. A gift may be comparatively small and yet spiritually large. Rather, it is determined by two factors, both of which have already been mentioned and will be developed yet further in this chapter.

First, one must take account of the means of the giver. Giving that is bountiful is in proportion to one's wealth (cf. 8:3,11,12; 1 Cor. 16:2). I've already discussed this and need say no more. Second, and perhaps even more important, bountiful giving is determined by the mind of the giver. This means that it is possible to give much but to sow sparingly.

So what kind of "mind" or "heart" or "spirit" or "attitude" does Paul have in view, the sort that turns even a quantitatively small gift into a bountiful and generous sowing of seed? The answer comes, at least in part, in v. 7. To be continued . . .

Sam

When you heard of the massive needs of Christians in New Orleans, devastated by hurricane Katrina, was your heart paralyzed with fear that excessive giving might cast you into the throes of poverty? Could you think only of that new computer that would now be out of your financial reach or that family vacation that would have to be postponed?

These are uncomfortable, but unavoidable, questions. There's no escaping the fact that when it comes to money, motivation matters.

Paul's statement in 2 Corinthians 9:7 may well be the most famous of all biblical texts on the subject of giving and Christian stewardship. If so, it is certainly deserving of this honor. "Each one must give as he has made up his mind," writes the apostle, "not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver" (v. 7).

In the previous meditation we saw that one of the primary factors in determining whether or not a gift is bountiful and generous is the mind of the giver, which is to say, the spirit or intent or attitude that moves one to give. Here in v. 7 Paul provides an explicit explanation of what that mind must be. But first we must take note of two preliminary points.

Observe first that giving is a universal responsibility. "Each one," says Paul, which is to say every one, should be energetically engaged in this act of stewardship (see also 1 Corinthians 16:2). No one is exempt. Indeed, why would they want to be?

Second, the phrase "as he has made up his mind" employs a verb found only here in the NT. Its focus is on personal deliberation and freedom of choice. Giving is never to be impulsive or careless or lacking in preparation and planning. Think about what you are doing. More importantly, think about why you are doing it. Pray about it. Plan it. Pursue it in a calculated and intentional way.

We now come to the three critical elements in all Christian giving, the first two of which are negative in force while the third is more positive.

First, sowing a bountiful seed, the sort that reaps a corresponding bountiful harvest, must be devoid of reluctance. Others translate this word "with regret" or "grudgingly" or "out of sorrow." Paul's point is that our giving must never be accompanied by a sense of loss or by the sorrow that comes from thinking about what we otherwise might have done with the money. If your giving is characterized by grief over what you might have gotten had you kept the money for yourself, God is not pleased. If your giving is accompanied by fantasies of the physical and material comforts that might otherwise have been obtained, God is not pleased.

Second, neither is God pleased when we give under the gun, or to use Paul's phrase, under compulsion. Are we concerned about what the church treasurer will think when he issues our end-of-year giving statement? Do we give to impress pastoral leaders and others in the church with our generosity? Do we give in the same way we pay our income tax, from a sense of legal obligation or even fear of criminal prosecution? Do we give because everyone else does? Paul doesn't want the awkwardness or pressure of the moment to influence their decision. He doesn't want the weight of his apostolic authority to exert undue influence on their choice.

One would almost think that such factors ought to be irrelevant. After all, what's important is that the people in Jerusalem are helped. What's crucial is that they receive the monetary aid that will alleviate their suffering. What does it matter what those who give are thinking? Is motivation all that important? Does the intent of the heart really affect the moral value of the act?

The only way to answer that question is by looking at the third characteristic of Christian giving. We must be diligent to avoid monetary regret when we give and we must never contribute under compulsion "for God loves a cheerful giver"!

The word translated "cheerful" has been the basis for countless sermons and extravagant illustrations. Yes, as you have no doubt heard, it is the Greek word, hilaron, from which is derived the term "hilarious". No, you cannot use the meaning of our English word "hilarious" to interpret Paul's statement in 2 Corinthians 9:7. In other words, you can't define the Greek hilaron in light of the English hilarious. This would be to commit a fallacy known as semantic anachronism. This is when a late use of a word is read back into earlier literature. Semantic anachronism would be interpreting the meaning of the first century Greek word, as used by Paul, by an appeal to the meaning of the twenty-first century English word, as it is understood by you and me.

Unfortunately, preachers also make this mistake with the Greek word for power, dunamis, from which is derived the English term dynamite. No, you can't appeal to what dynamite means or how it is used in our language to provide insight into what it meant in Paul's language. But we must move on.

Needless to say, if God loves a cheerful giver, he is displeased when people give but don't do it gladly, even if their giving is generous in terms of quantity. "When people don't find pleasure (Paul's word is ‘cheer'!) in their acts of service, God doesn't find pleasure in them" (John Piper, Desiring God, 104).

Does that mean if we don't have joy we shouldn't give at all? If I'm grumpy next Sunday or depressed or feeling especially guilty for sins committed, do I have a legitimate excuse not to give? After all, I don't want to incur God's displeasure! No.

Whereas joyless giving is certainly less than ideal, it is better than not giving at all. But don't stop there. Never be content with fulfilling a duty in the absence of delight. Let me suggest a few steps you should take.

First of all, confess the sin of joylessness. Joylessness, writes John Ortberg, "is a serious sin" (The Life You've Always Wanted [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1997], p. 68). Acknowledge the coldness and indifference of your heart. Don't pretend that it doesn't matter how you feel. It matters not only to you but especially to God.

Second, pray earnestly and passionately for a revelation of God's splendor and beauty and majesty and sweetness and all-satisfying, all-sufficient goodness. Plead with the Holy Spirit to grant you spiritual ears that you might hear the Father rejoicing over you with loud and boisterous singing (Zephaniah 3:17). Ask the Holy Spirit to grant you spiritual eyes that you might again see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

Third, map out a biblical strategy for renewing your joy. Or, as Jonathan Edwards once said, "Lay yourself in the way of allurement." Posture your life in that place where God is more likely to be found. Walk down the path where he has promised he will be encountered in life-changing and powerful ways. Avail yourself of those activities and means wherein the likelihood is increased that your heart will be captivated by the beauty and splendor of God.

In other words, immerse yourself in his Word, meditating daily on his promises and ingesting the infallible truths he has revealed. Go often to the Table of the Lord, so that by partaking of the elements of wine and bread the Spirit might awaken you to the glory of the finished work of the cross and sanctify you by his quickening presence. Remind yourself often of the reality of forgiveness, the glory of justification, the certainty of heaven, and the manifold blessings that God has provided in Christ.

Fourth, think about hell! Yes, you read it correctly. Think about hell. Among his personal resolutions, Jonathan Edwards included the following: "Resolved, when I feel pain, to think of the pains of martyrdom, and of hell" (The Works of Jonathan Edwards: Letters and Personal Writings, Vol. 16, ed. George S. Claghorn [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998], p. 754). You'll be amazed at how a brief time of meditation on the agonies of hell, from which you have been so graciously delivered, will serve to increase and deepen your joy and gratitude!

Fifth, and finally, go ahead and give generously anyway. Fulfill the outward dimension of your duty in prayerful hope and expectation that it will help to rekindle the inward delight. No, this is not hypocrisy, because you are doing the outward act hoping to regain the inward joy, not as a substitute for it or as disguise to convince others you mean it when in fact you don't.

"Cheerful" giving is neither frivolous nor foolish, and does not require that one laugh hilariously as the plate passes by. The "cheerful" giver is the one whose heart is rapturously filled with the knowledge of the goodness and greatness of God, whose mind is captivated by the beauty of Christ, whose soul is satisfied with all that we have in him, and who, in spite of all adversity and in defiance of every circumstance, rejoices with joy inexpressible and full of glory (1 Peter 1:8). Such a giver God loves!

Sam

Ah, the fears that grip the human heart when it comes to giving. But oh, the grace that triumphs over all!

Paul addressed this fear in v. 6, declaring that "whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully." Most folk believe the opposite: If you want more, give less. But Paul says, if you want more, give more. But how can this be? The answer is provided in yet more detail in the paragraph that follows. Here's how Paul put it:

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work. As it is written, ‘He has distributed freely, he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures forever.' He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness. You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, which through us will produce thanksgiving to God" (2 Cor. 9:8-11).

Clearly, God promises to supply abundantly those who give generously. Paul wants the Corinthians to be free from the fear that generous giving will leave them impoverished. His language is effusive and unmistakable: "God is able to make all grace abound to you" . . . God "will supply and multiply your seed" . . . and "you will be enriched in every way".

So, does that mean the prosperity people were right after all? Well, not exactly. One must never claim a promise without noting its purpose. In other words, we must ask the question, to what end or for what purpose or with what goal in mind does God cause the generous Christian steward to abound? Simply put, why does God promise financial abundance to those who cheerfully and freely give to others?

Paul leaves no room for argument. He gives no grounds for disagreement. His words are unequivocal and to the point. So that there might be no confusion or discord, he says it three times over. Please note the bold type as I again cite the apostle's words:

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work" (v. 8).

"He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness" (v. 10).

"You will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way, which through us will produce thanksgiving to God" (v. 11).

Take special note of v. 8 where Paul strings together a series of universals to make his point pellucidly clear: "And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work" (v. 8).

This is breathtaking language, not unlike what he wrote to the Philippians: "And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (4:19; see also Matt. 6:33; Ps. 84:11). Once again, this is not a guarantee that our circumstances will improve or that we will be insulated against suffering and hardship. Don't forget his earlier description of the Macedonians who were recipients of this marvelous and effusive grace and yet were not spared from "a severe test of affliction" nor delivered from "extreme poverty" (2 Cor. 8:2).

Rather, God's promise is that he will never stir your heart to give and then fail to supply you with resources to do so. But the idea that we should give so that God will enrich us personally with a view to increasing our comfort and convenience and purchasing power is foreign to Paul's teaching. Personal wealth is here viewed, not as an end in itself, but as a means to a yet higher goal: continued generosity to those in need.

One thing that will undermine the outworking of this principle is the lie that a $100,000 salary must be accompanied by a $100,000 lifestyle. As Piper has said, "God has made us to be conduits of his grace [not cul-de-sacs]. The danger is in thinking the conduit should be lined with gold. It shouldn't. Copper will do" (Desiring God, 173).

The principle at work in this divine scenario is that if you give generously now you will discover that God not only sustains your desire to give but will greatly increase your resources for yet more joyful and even more glorious giving in the future. The point is that "the divine beneficence is designed not to facilitate the accumulation of wealth but to make possible all kinds of liberality. We receive in order to give, not in order to hoard" (Harris, 645).

One final comment is in order. In v. 9, Paul cites Psalm 112:9 - "He has distributed freely, he has given to the poor; his righteousness endures forever." One might be tempted to think that this refers to God's righteousness as expressed in his gracious and generous activity of amply supplying us with adequate resources to continue in faithful support of those in need. But a closer look at the whole of Psalm 112 clearly indicates that the "he" who has distributed freely, the "he" who has given to the poor, the one whose "righteousness endures forever" is in fact the Christian. Paul has us in mind!

This is strong encouragement indeed! When we believe in God's bountiful provision and trust his promise "to make all grace abound" to us so that we will have an abundance, in turn, to "abound in every good work" (v. 8), our righteous acts of charity will endure forever. When we trust the truth that we "will be enriched in every way to be generous in every way' (v. 11), our generosity is regarded as a righteousness that will never fade nor lose its value in the sight of God.

Sam

He rules the heavens above, having set the stars in place. He calls them each by name and upholds them to the praise of his power. (Isa. 40:25-26; Ps. 147:4).

He creates the clouds and directs their paths and forms each drop of rain (Ps. 135:7; 147:8). Snow and hail and wind and waves are subject to his command (Job 37:6; Ps. 147:16-18). Lightnings flash at his discretion (Job 37:3; 38:35; Ps. 135:7) and thunders roar when he wills (Job 37:2-4; 38:25; Ps. 104:7).

Both feast and famine are in his hand (Ps. 105:16; Amos 4:7) and nations rise or fall at his good pleasure (Dan. 1:2; Jer. 25:1-2; Isa. 10:5-14). Rulers ascend to power or fall in disgrace in fulfillment of his purpose (Dan. 2:37-38; 4:25, 30, 32; 5:18, 20, 21).

The womb is closed at his command or opened when he shows mercy (Gen. 16:2; 29:31; 1 Sam. 1:5; Judges 13:3). Neither disease nor disability escapes his control (Exod. 4:11; Job 2:10) and life and death are in his hand (Deut. 32:39; 1 Sam. 2:6-7; 2 Sam. 12:15; James 4:14-15).

Donkeys drink by his good grace (Ps. 104:11). Birds nest at his behest (Ps. 104:12). God wills and the stork finds a home and the rock badger a refuge (Ps. 104:17-18). When animals kill, he is still Lord (2 Kings 17:25). When they lie helpless, he is still Lord (Dan. 6:22). Plants grow by his word and wither as well (Ps. 104:14; Jonah 4:6-7).

Oh, the glory of the greatness of our God!

But what about us? What of the human spirit? Does God exert control over our hearts? Or do we escape his sovereignty? It's one thing for God to direct the path of the wind or to shut the mouth of the lion. But we are shaped in his image and are the crown jewel of his creative design.

Nothing is quite so unpredictable as the human heart, or so it would seem. Its leanings and loves, its likes and dislikes, seem so random and free, subject to none but their owner. That God should rule over inanimate matter or creatures of instinct is easy to embrace. But what about us?

Surprisingly (or perhaps not), Paul speaks to the point in 2 Corinthians 8. "But thanks be to God," says the apostle, "who put into the heart of Titus the same earnest care I have for you. For he not only accepted our appeal, but being himself very earnest he is going to you of his own accord."

Titus was near and dear to the apostle's heart. So, too, the apostle to Titus. It would have been easy and understandable for this young man to have taken offence at the way the Corinthians treated his mentor. He knew of their slander and suspicion. He saw firsthand their disrespect and doubts. When Paul hurt, he hurt. The apostle's tears were shared by this trusted friend.

If he was to love them and feel an "earnest care" for their lives, God would have to overcome the obstacles in his heart. Titus could easily have yielded to indifference, perhaps even anger and disdain as he reflected on how unjustly the Corinthians had treated Paul. Given their history, Titus might well have nurtured a grudge against them. He probably thought often of the pain Paul endured.

Yet God worked in Titus to overcome these feelings of ill will. If God were to put "into the heart of Titus the same earnest care" that Paul felt for them, he would have to exert a sovereign influence in the depths of his soul to turn him to sincere devotion and a commitment to their welfare.

But wouldn't this require that God violate the integrity of Titus' will? How can Titus still go to Corinth "of his own accord" (v. 17) if it is God who is at work in him "both to will and to work for his good pleasure" (Phil. 2:13)? Here we see the marvelous mystery of divine sovereignty and human accountability.

Don't overlook the fact that Paul thanked God for the choice Titus made in going to Corinth. Titus was filled with earnest and sincere love, for which Paul praises God! God and God alone is ultimately responsible for the choice Titus made, yet Titus made it "of his own accord"! Can you solve the mystery?

Did we not see this earlier in 2 Corinthians 8, where the Macedonians gave "of their own free will" (v. 3), but only because God had first given his grace to them (v. 1)? God is always antecedent!

Although we may not be able to explain it, we must accept it: God's sovereignty didn't undermine the virtue in Titus' decision. Ultimate credit goes to God, but Titus will be rewarded for his moral excellence (2 Cor. 5:10).

The inescapable fact of Scripture is that God not only knows the heart of man (Acts 1:24; 15:8; 1 Cor. 14:25) but operates on it to secure the fulfillment of his ultimate purpose (Acts 4:27-28). If God can put it into the hearts of wicked men "to carry out his purpose" until his prophetic word is fulfilled (Rev. 17:17-18), only then to judge them for their treachery, surely he can put it into the heart of Titus to love and serve the Corinthians and later reward him accordingly.

Does God not only have the right but actually exercise the prerogative of sovereign rule over the thoughts and ways and wills of men? Well, did not God affirm that Abimelech acted "in the integrity" of his heart while yet it was the Lord who kept him from sinning (Gen. 20:6)? The latter did not undermine the former.

Is not "the king's heart" a "stream of water in the hand of the Lord" who "turns it wherever he will" (Prov. 21:1; cf. Ezra 6:22; 7:27)? Bruce Waltke says it best: "God's inscrutable mastery extends to kings, the most powerful of human beings, and to the heart, their most free member" (2:167).

Was David asking for something God couldn't do when he prayed that he "keep forever such purposes and thoughts in the hearts" of Solomon and all his people and that God "direct their hearts" toward him (1 Chron. 29:18)?

How could God possibly give his people "favor in the sight of the Egyptians" without exerting an effectual influence on their desires and decisions (Exod. 3:21-22; 12:35-36)? Did not God make "obstinate" the heart of Sihon, king of Heshbon (Deut. 2:30), and "harden" the hearts of the Canaanites (Josh. 11:20), and turn the hearts of Absalom and the men of Israel to reject the counsel of Ahithophel (2 Sam. 17:14), and move powerfully on the heart of Rehoboam to forsake the wise counsel of older men (1 Kings 12:15), all in order that his sovereign will might come to pass?

And when it came time in the purpose of God for his people to return to the land and rebuild the temple, "the Lord stirred up the spirit of Cyrus king of Persia" to issue a decree to that effect (Ezra 1:1). But what if no one chose to go? Ah, but they all returned, "everyone whose spirit God had stirred to go up to rebuild the house of the Lord that is in Jerusalem" (Ezra 1:5).

We should not be at all surprised, therefore, that God can put love and earnest desire for the Corinthians into the heart of Titus. Nor we should be at all surprised that he is the one who equips us with everything good that we may "do his will, working in us that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen" (Heb. 13:21).

So when you find yourself loving the unlovely, thank God. Each time you choose what is righteous, thank God. When you experience strength to resist sin, thank God. When you show mercy to the weak, compassion to the hurting, and are generous to the needy, thank God. For his sovereignty extends even to the impulses of our heart and the passions of our soul.

Sam

As Christians we face countless enemies to the welfare of our souls, be it pride or lust or bitterness or envy. But few are as powerful and relentless as greed. There's one good thing about greed: no one need define it. We know what it is. We're all familiar with the power it exerts on our hearts and the struggle each of us has to break free of its dominion.

That's where 2 Corinthians 8:6-11, and especially v. 9, come in. It's not certain that greed was the primary reason the Corinthians had stopped short of consummating their contribution to the poverty-stricken saints in Jerusalem, but it must have played a part. Some have argued that Paul's opponents in Corinth were responsible, having suggested that the apostle was deceiving the Corinthians while planning to keep the money (or a portion of it) for himself.

In any case, Paul's appeal in vv. 6-11 is simple: finish what you started; excel as much in generous giving as you do in other spiritual arenas; let everyone know of the sincerity and earnestness of your love for the brethren. As you have been blessed in other graces, now overflow in generosity to those in need. He writes:

"Accordingly, we urged Titus that as he had started, so he should complete among you this act of grace. But as you excel in everything - in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in all earnestness, and in our love for you - see that you excel in this act of grace also. I say this not as a command, but to prove by the earnestness of others that your love also is genuine. For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich. And in this matter I give my judgment: this benefits you, who a year ago started not only to do this work but also to desire to do it. So now finish doing it as well, so that your readiness in desiring it may be matched by your completing it out of what you have" (2 Cor. 8:6-11).

So how does one deal with greed? What is the most effective counter-attack to this insidious force? As I said above, v. 9 is the key. There Paul directs our attention to the one truth that has the power to liberate our hearts from the grip of greed and release in us the joy of generous giving: "For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich" (v. 9).

Three questions need to be answered.

First, in what sense was Christ "rich"? The first thing that comes to mind is the incalculable "wealth" of his eternal glory. The sacrifice of the Son will have its sanctifying effect on us only to the extent that we are in touch with the immeasurable splendor and limitless majesty of his pre-existent glory in fellowship with God the Father and the Holy Spirit.

Isaiah did his best to convey the magnitude of this glory by providing this description of his experience:

"In the year that King Uzziah died I saw the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up; and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him stood the seraphim. Each had six wings: with two he covered his face, and with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory!' And the foundations of the thresholds shook at the voice of him who called, and the house was filled with smoke" (Isa. 6:1-4).

This is but one portrait of what Jesus had in mind when he spoke to his Father of "the glory that I had with you before the world existed" (John 17:5). Paul described it as being "in the form of God" and experiencing eternal "equality with God" (Phil. 2:6).

But it was more than splendor, more than radiant beauty, more than the unending adoration of angelic hosts. It was joy! The "riches" of Christ that he so lovingly forsook entailed the mutual and immeasurable delight of the Father in the Son and the Son in the Father and the Spirit in the Father and the Father in the Spirit and the Son in the Spirit and the Spirit in the Son. Each beholding the beauty of the other. Each exulting in the excellence of the other. Their eternal and energetic love for one another is beyond our capacity to grasp.

So, secondly, in what sense did Christ become "poor"? Perhaps we should again let Isaiah make the point. Hear him prophesy of the humiliation of holiness: for "he had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not" (Isa. 53:2-3).

Wait! No! Surely there's been a mistake. Are you suggesting, Paul, that the one at whom the seraphim dared not look (Isa. 6:2), whose glory filled the earth (Isa. 6:3), is also the one who "has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows," a man "stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted" (Isa. 53:4)? Are you suggesting, Paul, that the one who sat enthroned in power and glory (Isa. 6:1-2) was somehow "wounded for our transgressions" and "crushed for our iniquities" (Isa. 53:5)? How can it be that "the King, the Lord of hosts" (Isa. 6:5) "was oppressed" and "afflicted" like "a lamb that is led to the slaughter and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent" (Isa. 53:7)?

Such was the breathtaking height of his riches and the heartbreaking depth of his poverty. What words remain to explain such "grace"? He joyfully surrendered "all the insignia of divine majesty," writes Harris, "and assumed all the frailty and vicissitudes of the human condition" (579).

And this . . . "for your sake", said Paul to the Corinthians. Yes, and for our sake as well, that you and I "by his poverty might become rich" (v. 9).

"Rich"? In what sense have we become wealthy through his poverty? Refuse to tolerate the spiritually sick and perverted claims of the prosperity "gospel"(?) that would find here a reference to material gain. Our riches and wealth are the sort that cannot be earned by effort or secured at a sale. They are the gift of sovereign grace.

Where does one begin to enumerate them? Election before the foundation of the world? Yes! Forgiveness of sins? Yes! Adoption into the family of God? Yes! Justification by faith alone? Yes! Union with Christ? Yes! The permanent indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit? Yes! Did not Paul assure the Ephesians that God has "blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places" (Eph. 1:4)? Yes!

And above all else, the richest and most precious blessing of all . . . is God himself! He is our inestimable treasure. Beholding his beauty is our inheritance. Enjoying his excellency is our wealth.

But to what end does Paul speak in this way? For what purpose? To stir up lethargic and presumptuous souls to give with exceeding generosity! Said Tasker:

"If this love of Christ, so magnanimous in its motive and so self-sacrificing in its execution, is an active force in the believer's heart, how unnecessary, the apostle implies, any command to practice giving ought to be. What, without that love, might seem a cold moral duty has been transformed by it into a joyous privilege" (116).

Greed is not good. Greed does not work. It cripples and paralyzes and anesthetizes our souls to the needs of others. Worse yet, it ignores the magnanimous mercy and grace of Christ and the sacrifice he made so that we, through his poverty, might become truly rich.

Sam

The apostle Paul would take issue with both groups. He is unashamed to issue what amounts to a passionate and persistent appeal to the Corinthians that they contribute generously to the impoverished church in Jerusalem. In doing so, he provides us with profound insight into the nature of God's grace, our giving, and the joy that is found in the convergence of the two in the life of the church.

As I said, his appeal was provoked by the crisis that had befallen the church in Jerusalem (cf. 1 Cor. 16:1-4; Rom. 15:25-27). The reasons for this grave situation are numerous: in addition to overpopulation, there was social and economic ostracism, disinheritance following conversion, disruption of family ties, persecution, and the lingering effects of the famine of a.d. 46 (cf. Acts 11:27-30).

Paul's effort to raise money for their support was consistent with his stated resolve in Galatians 2:10. There he wrote that "they asked us to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do." By pointing to the example of sacrificial giving set by the Macedonians (i.e., the Christians in Philippi, Thessalonica, and Berea), Paul hopes to stimulate the Corinthians to complete their efforts at contributing to their poverty-stricken brethren in Jerusalem (cf. 8:10-11).

As we turn our attention to these two crucial chapters in 2 Corinthians, I want to begin by taking note of the foundational role of divine grace in all that was achieved. This, in fact, is the focal point of Paul's entire message:

"We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given among the churches of Macedonia, for in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part" (2 Cor. 8:1-2).

From a strictly human point of view, the odds were stacked against the Macedonians from the start. Common sense would tell us that such folk were hardly the sort who could be expected to alleviate anyone's suffering. Their own "severe test of affliction" and "extreme poverty" would appear to excuse them from participation in any fund-raising venture, except perhaps one that would serve to improve their own pitiful condition.

I'll have more to say on this in a subsequent meditation, but here I draw your attention to the operation of divine grace in their midst. This grace had been "given" or bestowed or poured out on the churches of Macedonia and that alone, ultimately speaking, accounts for their remarkable generosity toward their brethren in Jerusalem.

Yes, Paul appeals to what believers in Macedonia had done. But he is quick to acknowledge that what they did in serving their brethren is the fruit of what God had done in serving them! If the Macedonians "gave themselves first to the Lord" in this ministry (v. 5), it is because God had first "given" his grace (v. 1) to them. Whatever achievement on their part is praised, whatever example they may have set for others to follow, it is ultimately attributed to the antecedent activity of divine grace (this is the principle Paul articulated in Philippians 2:12-13).

This is a beautiful example of the harmony between the antecedent presence of divine grace and the moral accountability of human decisions. In v. 3 Paul says they gave "of their own free will," while in v. 1 their willingness is traced to the grace of God! The same principle is found in vv. 16-17 where Paul says God put an "earnest care" in the heart of Titus, who in turn, "of his own accord," went to the Corinthians.

This isn't the first time we've seen this sort of dynamic interplay between divine grace and human response. In 1 Chronicles 29:10-19 David describes the remarkable fund-raising campaign that eventually subsidized the building of Solomon's temple. In v. 12 David says of God that "both riches and honor come from you." God is not a usurper of things not rightfully his. From a purely human point of view, the money and wealth given for the building of the temple seem to come from the work and energy and savings and investments of the people. Perhaps some of them had profited from shrewd business transactions. Perhaps a few had turned an incredible profit on the sale of some land. But no matter, David says that all riches come from God! Whatever anyone worked for, earned, invested, sold and then gave, they first got it from God.

Again in v. 12, David asserts that it lies in God's hand "to make great and to give strength to all." Whatever energy or accomplishments may be traceable to the people that accounted for what and why they gave, all of it ultimately came from God. Power, influence, ingenuity, success, commitment, whatever it might be, are the result of the gracious and kind operation of a benevolent and giving God working in and through his people for their welfare and his own glory.

David then asks: "But who am I, and what is my people, that we should be able thus to offer willingly?" This is David's way of saying that God is the one who enables us to do what we do not deserve help to do. Who are we, asks David, that we should receive the help of God that would mobilize us to produce this wealth and then stir our hearts to give it away? We are sinners. We deserve nothing but judgment.

But perhaps the most instructive thing David says comes in v. 14. "For all things come from you, and of your own have we given you." I actually prefer the translation of the NASB, "from Thy hand we have given Thee." He doesn't say "To Thy hand," as if it originated with us and ended with God. Rather, it is "from Thy hand." In other words, whatever they gave they first received. He says much the same thing in v. 16. declaring that "all this abundance that we have provided for building you a house for your holy name comes from your hand and is all your own." All giving is but a reflex of God's giving.

As if that weren't enough, in v. 18 he declares that it is God who gives us the willingness to give! It isn't simply that God makes it possible for us to work hard or that he bestows riches on whomever he pleases, but that he initiates and sustains in the hearts of his people the very desire to give. Yes, says David, the people did the giving (v. 9). They gave willingly, of their own accord, and with joy. It was genuine giving, freely chosen, joyfully engaged. They made decisions. Real decisions. Sacrificial decisions. Decisions that make a difference. Decisions without which the temple would not have been built. But mysteriously, in ways that you and I will never fully understand, beneath and behind these choices was the gracious, enabling work of God.

This is the same principle we see at work in the Macedonians and the overwhelming generosity they displayed in contributing to the saints in Jerusalem.

I can't conclude without directing our attention to the use of the word charis, "grace", throughout this section of 2 Corinthians. It is used in 8:1,4,6,7,9,16,19; 9:8,14,15, with a wide range of meaning, from divine enablement to human privilege to a monetary gift to a word of gratitude to divine favor. This should remind us that grace is more than an attitude or disposition in the divine nature. It is surely that, but if thought of only as an abstract and static principle, it is deprived of its deeper implications.

The grace of God, for example, is the power of God's Spirit converting the soul. It is the activity or movement of God whereby he saves and justifies the individual through faith (see esp. Rom. 3:24; 5:15,17). Therefore, grace is not something in which we merely believe; it is something we experience as well.

Grace, however, is not only the divine act by which God initiates our spiritual life, but also the very power by which we are sustained in, nourished, and proceed through that life. The energizing and sanctifying work of the indwelling Spirit is the grace of God (as we will later see, for example, in 2 Corinthians 12:9 in regard to Paul's struggle with his thorn in the flesh).

Grace, then, is a dynamic and experiential reality that empowers the human heart to look beyond its limitations and accomplish things that defy rational explanation. Grace is the power that enables impoverished and suffering saints to give when, by all accounts, they should be the ones to get. Such was the operation of grace in the giving of these Macedonian believers. And such ought to be its operation in us as well.

Sam

The issue is not whether Christians are responsible to be generous with their wealth in giving back a portion of it to support the work of the ministry. 2 Corinthians 8-9, as well as other texts, make it quite clear that we are. The question, rather, is whether New Covenant Christians are biblically and morally obligated to give according to Old Covenant laws. The question is not whether Christians are free to tithe of their income. Certainly, they are. The question is whether Christians are obligated to give precisely 10% of their income. Does the Bible legislate to believers under the New Covenant a specific percentage of their income that they are to give?

In ancient times tithing was not restricted to religious people, such as the nation Israel. Giving a portion of one's income either to a pagan deity or to the governing authority was a widespread custom. One need only read Genesis 47:24 where the Egyptians were required to pay 20% of their harvest to Pharaoh. Other extra-biblical documents indicate that tithing was commonly practiced throughout the ancient world among such people as the Syrians, Lydians, and Babylonians (see the discussion of this in the article on the "Tithe" in The Zondervan Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Bible, V:756).

Was tithing a mandatory or even common practice among God's people prior to the giving of the Mosaic Law? There are two examples of pre-Mosaic tithing.

We read in Genesis 14:18-20 that Abraham gave "a tenth of everything" to Melchizedek. Personally, I am reluctant to appeal to the example of Abraham to justify contemporary tithing, and for the following reasons.

First, we don't know whether Abraham tithed because of some divine mandate that was binding on all God's people at that time, or because he was following a common ancient near-eastern custom. There is nothing in the OT which indicates that Abraham ever received divine or revelatory instructions concerning tithing. There is no command associated with this incident or any other evidence indicating that what Abraham did on this one occasion is binding and normative for all believers in every age.

Furthermore, observe that Abraham tithed out of the spoils or booty of war (see the preceding context in Gen. 14:13-16; cf. also Heb. 7:4). Nothing is said about his tithing from his yearly income. We should also note that he didn't tithe to God but to a man, Melchizedek. And as far as I can tell, there's no evidence that Abraham ever tithed to anyone again. He may have, but we have no record of such activity and thus no way of knowing if this was a singular event or one example of a common practice.

Finally, the only other reference to this incident is in Hebrews 7. There the author is determined to prove the superiority of the New Covenant priesthood of Jesus Christ to the Old Covenant priesthood. He does this by proving the superiority of Melchizedek to Abraham. Remember, it was Abraham who paid a tithe to Melchizedek, not the other way around. It was Melchizedek who blessed Abraham, not the other way around. And as Hebrews 7:7 states, "the inferior [or "lesser"] is blessed by the superior [or "greater"]."

Our author then says that, in a certain sense, Levi also paid a tithe to Melchizedek because he was in the loins of his great-grandfather Abraham when the incident recorded in Genesis 14 occurred. The point he is making, notes F. F. Bruce, is this: "Abraham was a great man . . . but in the account of his interview with Melchizedek, it is Melchizedek who appears as the greater of the two. And if Melchizedek was greater than Abraham, his priesthood must be greater than a priesthood which traces its descent from Abraham" (139-40). Therefore, Jesus, who is our high priest "after the order of Melchizedek" (Heb. 6:20), is greater than any and all priests of the order of Aaron and Levi. It is exegetically tenuous, then, to appeal to this text in defense of contemporary tithing.

The other example of pre-Mosaic tithing is found in Genesis 28:22 where it is said that Jacob promised to give a tenth of all he had to God. Is this a solid biblical reason why we should do the same?

First, note well that this is a vow made upon the condition that God would bless Jacob. This isn't the case of someone saying, "Tithe to God and God will bless you," but rather "God, you first bless me and then I will tithe to you."

Second, do we have good reason to believe that Jacob's act is to be taken as normative for all believers in every age? I might be willing to grant that we should follow Jacob's example if the rest of Scripture were silent on the subject of financial stewardship. In other words, if all we had on the subject of giving was the story of Jacob, perhaps then it would be wisdom to pattern our giving after his. But the New Testament is anything but silent on this subject, as our study of 2 Corinthians 8-9 will reveal.

A brief word is in order about how tithing was practiced under the Mosaic or Old Covenant. Some believe the Israelites paid nearly 22% of their income to the Lord every year! Let me summarize this argument.

According to Leviticus 27:30-33, 10% of all grain, cattle, fruit, etc. was to be set aside as a tithe to the Lord. This tithe, in turn, was to be given to the Levites for the work they did while serving at the tent of meeting. The Levites constituted the tribe of Israel from which the priests were taken. We read in Numbers 18:20-32 that they received this tithe because they were not given an inheritance in the land.

Thus, it would appear that the first 10% of the Israelites' income was to be given to the Levites, who in turned tithed from that 10% (1%), giving it to the high priest (Numbers 18:26-29). Clearly, the Levites, or those who ministered in the tabernacle and Temple, were supposed to live off the tithes of the other eleven tribes.

In 1 Corinthians 9:13-14, Paul reminds the church that in the OT economy the Levites who worked in the Temple lived off the tithes brought there: "Do you not know that those who are employed in the temple service get their food from the temple, and those who serve at the altar share in the sacrificial offerings? He then says in 9:14, "In the same way, the Lord commanded that those who proclaim the gospel should get their living by the gospel."

Paul's argument is that those who spend their lives ministering the Word of God should be supported by other Christians. To make his point, he draws attention to the way it was done in the OT. At minimum, Paul is saying that other believers are to financially support those in so-called "full-time ministry." Whether or not he is saying that they should do it by giving precisely 10% is less certain.

On the basis of Deuteronomy 14:22-27, some argue that a second tithe (or 10% of the remaining 90%, hence 9%) was to be taken once a year to Jerusalem, there to be consumed by a man and his family in a sacred feast or meal. If a person lived too far away to transport his tithe to Jerusalem, he was permitted to exchange his goods for silver. When he arrived in Jerusalem, he was to convert his cash back into cattle, sheep, wine, etc. (Deut. 14:24-26). If this is the correct interpretation, we now have Israelites paying 19% of their income in tithes. But there is more to come.

According to Deuteronomy 14:28-29, an additional (?) tithe of 10% was to be paid every third year. This tithe was to be given to the Levites, the aliens, the fatherless, and the widows. In other words, every third year the Israelite was to take an additional 10% from the remaining 81%. If my math is correct, this means that every year the Israelite was required to pay approximately 21.7% of his income in tithes to the Lord!

Others have objected to this interpretation, arguing that these passages in the OT all refer to the same tithe. It is only one tithe, 10%, to be used in different ways. In other words, 10% of one's yearly produce/income (Lev. 27) was to be taken to Jerusalem and consumed there (Deut. 14:22-27). Whatever was left over was to be given to the Levites (Num. 18:20-32). Every third year, however, the entire 10% was to be given to the Levites, the aliens, and to the orphans and widows. On this interpretation, the Israelite was required to pay only 10% a year.

Regardless of which view one takes, the important point to note is that the Israelite was required to pay his tithe. It was tantamount to a national income tax. That is why Malachi 3:6-12 speaks of those who did not pay their tithes as "robbing" God. In Israel, under the Mosaic Covenant, there was no such thing as separation of church and state. One's tithe was a religious tax designed to sustain the theocratic state of God's chosen people.

The New Testament twice (Matthew 23:23 [Lk. 11:42]; Luke 18:12) refers to people tithing who were still living under and therefore morally obligated to obey the dictates of the Old, Mosaic Covenant. But these people were required to pay their tithes for the same reason they were required to bring a lamb for sacrifice and required to observe the civil code of Leviticus and required not to touch a dead body and required to obey all the legislation instituted by God in the covenant with Israel. On what grounds, then, do we say that the OT law concerning tithing is still binding on the conscience of New Covenant believers but its laws concerning other matters is not?

Is it permissible for a New Covenant Christian to tithe, i.e., to give 10% of his/her income to the work of the church? Not only is it permissible, I would strongly recommend and urge you to do so. In choosing to give 10% of our income to the Lord, we are honoring a God-given, Old Testament principle. In the absence of a prescribed percentage for giving in the New Testament, why not adopt the Old Testament pattern?

However, this does not mean you are sinning if you don't. To give only 8% or to give 15% is equally permissible. Not to give at all, or to give disproportionately to your income (which is the case with most Christians today), or to give grudgingly, is indeed sin. Let us be joyful and generous in our giving. After all, everything we own belongs to God anyway!

Sam

It would appear from this passage that it is not enough to be open to spiritual gifts and their operation in the local church. One must be zealous for them and earnestly desire their presence, especially the gift of prophecy (1 Cor. 14:1, 12, 26).

However, not everyone agrees with this interpretation. As I've thought about it, there appear to be several ways that one might respond to this exhortation. But first, two observations are in order.

(1) It's important we remember that this is an exhortation, an imperative, a command, and not merely a statement of fact. In 1 Corinthians 12:31 Paul says, "earnestly desire the greater gifts." The verb translated "earnestly [or eagerly] desire" (zeloute) is grammatically ambiguous (it can be either indicative or imperative). A few insist it is merely a statement characterizing the behavior of the Corinthians, hence "you are eager for the greater gifts." In other words, they take it to be a statement of fact concerning a state of affairs, not an exhortation to future action.

But the Corinthians were not, in fact, seeking the greater gifts. That was precisely their problem. They were placing far more emphasis on the gift of tongues, making it a mark of spirituality. In fact, the whole of chapter 14 is Paul's attempt to encourage them to desire prophecy in their corporate gatherings rather than uninterpreted tongues, prophecy being the greater gift insofar as it, because intelligible, edifies others.

Also, the same verb form appears in 1 Corinthians 14:1 and 14:39 and is there unambiguously imperative (i.e., a command). It is difficult to believe that the same verb, in the same form, in the same context, would be used by Paul in two entirely different ways without some hint or contextual clue to that effect.

Consider also 14:12 where Paul writes, "So also you, since you are zealous of spiritual gifts [referring to their collective enthusiasm for tongues], seek [imperative] to abound for the edification of the church [in particular, the gift of prophecy, as the context demands].

(2) Some have pointed out, correctly, that the exhortation to "earnestly desire" spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12:31; 14:1) is in the plural. But they conclude from this, incorrectly, that Paul's command is therefore directed not to individual believers but to the corporate church. They argue that this is grounds for rejecting the idea that individual Christians should seek any spiritual gift.

But of course the verb is plural, as are virtually all Paul's commands in letters other than those addressed to individuals (such as Philemon, Titus, and Timothy). Paul is writing to everyone in the church at Corinth, each of whom is responsible for individually responding to an exhortation that has validity for the entire church. In other words, what is the corporate church if not a collection of individuals on each of whom the obligation falls? The plural of this exhortation simply indicates that all believers in Corinth are to heed the apostolic admonition. It is a duty common to everyone. That includes us as well.

I can well imagine someone in Corinth (or today) responding to this attempt to evade Paul's obvious intent by saying: "How can we as a church pursue spiritual gifts if none of us as individuals is allowed to?"

Now, those observations aside, there are six possible ways of responding to this exhortation.

First, I suppose someone might claim to be an agnostic on the subject of spiritual gifts and thus exempt themselves from having to respond. They just haven't been able to make up their mind concerning the debate between continuationism and cessationism. In other words, they say, "I don't know if prophecy and tongues and word of knowledge, for example, are still being given by God to the church, and until I do know I can't be expected to obey an exhortation that might not be binding on my conscience."

I understand this position, but if it is yours I would argue that you have a moral and spiritual obligation to resolve the matter as quickly as possible. On the one hand, if cessationism turns out to be true, you haven't lost anything by ignoring the imperative. However, if continuationism is true, your failure to explore the issue and lingering uncertainty are depriving you of the benefits that you and your church could enjoy from the exercise of these gifts. And you, personally, are at minimum guilty of a sin of omission.

If this first option is where you find yourself today, by all means study and search out the Scriptures, come to a conclusion, and act accordingly. After all, if continuationism is true, and at the judgment seat of Christ the Lord inquires about your failure to obey his Word, I doubt if you'll relish saying, "I'm sorry God, but I just couldn't make up my mind!"

Second, there are those, like myself, who believe the New Testament explicitly affirms the on-going, contemporary validity of all spiritual gifts. For such, the command of 1 Corinthians 14:1 is morally binding and must be obeyed.

Third, there are those who believe the NT is explicit in its affirmation of the cessation of certain spiritual gifts in the first century. For them, the exhortation in 1 Corinthians 14:1 is therefore irrelevant. The most we can learn from it is what God desired for the early church, but it has no application to the body of Christ beyond the death of the last apostle. It is no more binding on Christians today than are the dietary regulations in the Law of Moses (although for different reasons).

Fourth, there are those who are cessationists, even though they do not believe the NT is explicit on the subject. In other words, they would say that whereas the NT doesn't teach the cessation of certain spiritual gifts, they nevertheless believe it. Therefore, the command of 1 Corinthians 14:1 was binding on first-century believers but no longer is for us.

This is a somewhat dangerous stance to maintain, for it entails believing something without explicit biblical warrant, on the basis of which one justifies ignoring an exhortation that is explicit.

Fifth, I suppose someone might respond to 1 Corinthians 14:1 by saying, "I think some gifts, such as prophecy and tongues, have ceased. Therefore, I am not under obligation to earnestly desire or pray for them. But other spiritual gifts, such as teaching and mercy and giving are still operative today and I will happily pray that God might bestow such gifts on me or on the church at large."

On this view, we have a selective obligation to obey Paul's command. We can ignore his emphasis on prophecy ("especially that you may prophesy") but must heed his exhortation when it comes to all other, so-called non-miraculous, gifts of the Spirit.

Sixth, there are those who don't believe the NT teaches cessationism, who also believe that it is possible that all spiritual gifts are still valid for the church today, but who do not obey Paul's command in 1 Corinthians 14:1. I would also include here those who believe it is definite that all spiritual gifts are still valid for the contemporary church, but they, too, fail to obey the Pauline imperative. This is the least viable of all positions.

If one believes either that it is possible or that it is definite that all gifts are still valid and important today, one must explore ways to obey Paul's command. If the gifts are valid, God does not leave us the option of either seeking them or not seeking them.

One cannot respond to this text by saying, "Well, yes, there is no evidence that God has withdrawn the gifts and in fact there is evidence that they are still being bestowed by the Spirit, but that's just not what we, as a church, are into. It's not our style. It's not our vision or contained in our mission statement, and to be perfectly honest, we are frightened by the possibility of such manifestations of the Spirit's power and would prefer to fulfill the ministry given us by God without incorporating the pursuit of spiritual gifts and the mess that it would inevitably bring."

This latter position, quite simply, is sin. To acknowledge the validity of spiritual gifts, and to acknowledge that God commands us to earnestly desire their manifestation, only then to refuse to do so, is sin.

Of course, whichever position one adopts we are all, in every age, responsible to "pursue love" (v. 1a), for without it, all gifts, whether teaching or tongues, whether prophecy or pastoring, are but a "noisy gong or a clanging cymbal" (1 Cor. 13:1).

How, then, will you respond to the apostolic imperative?

Nowhere is this better seen than in 2 Corinthians. In fact, the lengthy paragraph before us (2 Cor. 7:5-16) is unintelligible apart from an understanding of the movements of Paul and Titus and the personal interactions between them and the Corinthian church. So let me briefly set the context for this incredibly instructive and encouraging passage.

As best we can tell, Paul made an urgent and confrontational visit to Corinth in the spring of 55 a.d., which he described as "painful" in 2 Corinthians 2:1. He immediately returned to Ephesus and changed the plans he had earlier made to visit Corinth twice more: once on his way to Macedonia and then on his return trip (cf. 2 Cor. 1:15-16). Fearful that his enemies would destroy the work of the gospel in Corinth, he wrote what some have called the "severe" or "tearful" letter (2 Cor. 2:4, 9), entrusting its delivery to Titus.

In late 55 a.d. he left Ephesus and went to Troas, hoping to meet Titus there with news of how the Corinthians had responded to this forceful appeal. Much to his chagrin, Titus was nowhere to be found (cf. 2 Cor. 2:13). Evidently he and Titus had planned to meet in Macedonia (probably Philippi) should the meeting in Troas not occur. Hence, Paul made his way to Macedonia, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Titus from Corinth. While there he suffered greatly, both in terms of external opposition and internal anxiety and distress, unsure of how his spiritual children would respond to what he had written. Finally, Titus arrived from Corinth with the good news for which Paul had prayed. The apostle's response is described in the passage before us (2 Cor. 7:5ff.).

Evidently, the Corinthians initially felt sorrow on hearing Paul's letter (vv. 8-9), but soon repented of their sinful behavior and expressed their love and longing for him (vv. 7, 9, 11-12). Titus is greatly comforted and refreshed by their response and upon his reunion with Paul in Macedonia reports to the apostle this glorious turn of events. His regret over sending the severe letter is short-lived when he learns of the godly and sincere fruit it bore in their experience (v. 8). Now he is relieved and filled with joy both at how Titus was encouraged and refreshed by them as well as their genuine and godly repentance (vv. 6-7, 9-12, 13).

Our concern in this meditation is with his opening comments in vv. 5-7. It's a remarkably honest and vulnerable confession by Paul of his state of mind and body:

"For even when we came into Macedonia, our bodies had no rest, but we were afflicted at every turn - fighting without and fear within. But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus, and not only by his coming but also by the comfort with which he was comforted by you, as he told us of your longing, your mourning, your zeal for me, so that I rejoiced still more" (2 Cor. 7:5-7).

Several things are worthy of note.

First, in 2 Corinthians 2:13 it was his "spirit" that couldn't find rest when Titus failed to appear. Now it is his "body" (v. 5). Whereas "body" (Gk., sarx) may be inclusive of his spiritual and psychological state of being, the emphasis is on the frailty and vulnerability of his physical frame. Paul was not above or insulated against experiencing great physical agitation and weakness. This was caused by a multitude of afflictions (v. 5), what he calls "fighting without and fear within" (however, both "fighting" and "fear" are plural in the Greek text, pointing to multiple occasions when he confronted each).

The "fightings" were not physical battles, as if to suggest that Paul was a regular participant in some ancient version of pugilistic combat! He has in mind ecclesiastical controversies and theological disputes that he apparently faced on a regular basis (cf. the use of this word in 2 Tim. 2:23; Titus 3:9; James 4:1).

What is of special interest is his reference to "fears within", which no doubt included his anxiety about how Titus would be received (not to mention the physical safety of his beloved emissary), his concern about how the Corinthians would respond to his letter (would they reject him or repent of their sin?), and his lingering worries concerning the influence of the false teachers in Corinth.

Take heart: Paul was just like you and me! Murray Harris is right in pointing out that Paul "openly admits to being in emotional turmoil and having persistent fears. So far from being imperturbable or being a model of inner tranquility, he was deeply affected by his circumstances, especially his pastoral circumstances (cf. 11:28-29), although he was certainly not emotionally fragile" (527).

He obviously cared deeply both for Titus and the believers in Corinth. Their spiritual and physical welfare weighed heavily on his heart, and he is unashamed to confess the burden and anxiety and overall toll it took on him, body and soul.

Second, thank God for the "But God's" of the Bible! "But God, who comforts the downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus" (v. 6; cf. Isa. 49:13). Yes, Paul was "downcast", dejected, perhaps even in some sense depressed because of the "fears" (v. 5) that wracked his heart as he waited, dare I say, impatiently in Macedonia.

Don't overlook an incredibly instructive dual emphasis in this verse. On the one hand, Paul is encouraged by the arrival of Titus. His anxiety diminishes upon seeing his trusted friend and brother in Christ. Don't ever let anyone tell you Paul wasn't a people person, as if all that mattered were theological concepts over which he pondered in a remote ivory tower. The welfare of his beloved brother, Titus, mattered profoundly to him! As Paul says in v.7, it wasn't simply the arrival of Titus that cheered him but the fact that Titus was himself cheered by the reception he received from the Corinthians!

But second, take special note that, typical of Paul, he sees God's providential hand in it all. God was the ultimate source of this comfort. He rejoiced to see Titus and to know he was safe and to hear the good news of what had transpired in Corinth. But all this was from God! He is, after all, "the Father of mercies and God of all comfort" (2 Cor. 1:3), and his ways of dispensing it to us are many and varied. It's truly breathtaking to see yet again the intimate oversight of God in the most mundane of human affairs and how he orchestrates seemingly routine events (such as the return journey of Titus) for our spiritual growth and edification.

The third important observation concerns Paul's joy on hearing how the Corinthians responded to his severe letter (v. 7). When Titus brought his report to Paul he focused on three things. He "told us of your longing," writes Paul. But their "longing" or "ardent desire" for what? Perhaps for Paul himself. Perhaps their desire to be reconciled to the apostle. In any case, Paul is ecstatic upon hearing of their change of heart.

Titus also reported on their "mourning" or "grieving", whether over their inexcusable treatment of Paul or their failure to heed his earlier letters and appeals to repent. Their "zeal" may be a reference to their fresh enthusiasm to comply with Paul's directives, but given the prepositional phrase "for me", it is more likely a reference to their eagerness to unite fully, in heart and mind and spirit, with their beloved spiritual father.

The result? "I rejoiced still more," exclaimed Paul (v. 7b)! There was great joy upon seeing Titus, but even greater joy, now more than ever, upon hearing how he had been received and how passionate these believers had become for Paul and holiness of life. Paul's fellow apostle, John, put it best in saying, "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth" (3 John 4). Paul couldn't have agreed more.

What a rich treasure has been entrusted to us: the sacred Scriptures, the inspired word of God, as I said earlier, forged in the context of real life struggles and the multitude of human relational dynamics. Here, in the messy and often frustrating arena of human failure and weakness and repentance and reconciliation, we find encouragement and instruction and hope. And this too, from God.

Sam

When I'm asked to recommend resources on the training up of pastors or for wisdom in shaping the future leaders of this or the next generation, I instinctively say, 2 Corinthians! Many respond with a nod and a condescending, "Yeah, yeah," before asking for something more substantive, more up-to-date, more in touch with contemporary culture and prevailing trends in the market place.

I'm pretty stubborn. "Yes, I understand what you are asking for," is my response. "And my recommendation is still 2 Corinthians." This is the point at which they realize I'm not trying to be cute or disrespectful towards the vast array of more recent approaches to leadership and pastoral development. They get the point, I hope, that I seriously believe what we read in 2 Corinthians about Paul and the people from that ancient city is the most insightful, practical, wise, and edifying advice for how to lead and be led available in this or any age of the church.

The passage before us is a case in point. It's brief, but densely packed with pastoral wisdom. Read it carefully:

"Make room in your hearts for us. We have wronged no one, we have corrupted no one, we have taken advantage of no one. I do not say this to condemn you, for I said before that you are in our hearts, to die together and to live together. I am acting with great boldness toward you; I have great pride in you; I am filled with comfort. In all our affliction, I am overflowing with joy" (2 Cor. 7:2-4).

Perhaps the best way to approach this issue is simply to identify several principles that governed Paul's relationship with these believers.

The first thing that stands out is Paul's determination to do everything within his power to facilitate reconciliation with the Corinthians. "Make room in your hearts for us," he pleads with them. This is a resumption of his earlier appeal in 6:13, "In return (I speak as to [my] children), widen your hearts also."

Paul refused to settle for the status quo. It wasn't enough that he had deep affection for them (2 Cor. 6:11-12). He labored to persuade them that there was no good reason to close their hearts to him. Mutual love and mutual commitment was the goal. How tragic is it when leaders and their people become entrenched in long term grudges, which are, more times than not, based on misunderstanding and miscommunication that could easily be resolved if humility were prized. How tragic, and unnecessary, when Christians feed off of relational wounds and simply assume that reconciliation is either too difficult, not worth the effort, or completely beyond the realm of possibility. Paul won't have it, and neither should we.

To prove that the rift was groundless, and that he was deserving of a place in their hearts, he insists that he has "wronged" no one, "corrupted" no one, nor "taken advantage" of anyone. Pastors and Elders, take note of the moral and spiritual integrity that is foundational to all levels and expressions of leadership.

Paul insists he had "wronged" no one, a possible response to the charge that he had been unduly harsh in dealing with the incestuous man of 1 Corinthians 5 or the offender mentioned in 2 Corinthians 2:5-11.

In saying he had "corrupted" no one, he may have in mind either financial indiscretions or matters of morality or doctrine. There is obviously, here, an invitation to anyone in Corinth to investigate Paul's behavior. "You'll find no grounds," says the apostle, "to justify your mistrust of me or the closing of your heart to my position as your leader."

The words "take advantage" might also mean exploit or defraud (cf. its use in 12:17-18). It's possible that some suspected he manipulated for his own benefit the collection taken up for the Jerusalem church (2 Cor. 8:20-21). Nothing could be further from the truth, says Paul.

I also find it instructive how careful Paul is about his use of words. He knows how prone people are to twist things to their own advantage, so he quickly qualifies his words in v. 2 with his affirmation of love in v. 3. Nothing in what he has just said should be interpreted as condemnation or criticism or rejection of them. In fact, Paul was not only willing to live with them, but to die with them as well (v. 3b)!

What a marvelous affirmation of the depth and sincerity of his commitment to them. "Paul is declaring that his destiny, now and always, will be interwoven with that of the Corinthians. Neither the arrival of death nor the vicissitudes of life could divorce them from his affection" (Harris, 519).

There are, moreover, two important consequences to this devotion. Would that all leaders might imitate Paul's example.

In the first place, he was determined to be utterly and altogether open in his speech with them. This is the force of the words translated, "I am acting with great boldness toward you" (v. 4a). His words are not a cloak for some self-serving agenda or a means to protect a wounded ego. He speaks his mind candidly, fearlessly, and without regard to what consequences might befall him personally. He will not hide his intentions or his feelings or his beliefs about what is right and wrong in the church. Whether his words encourage or rebuke, they are the accurate expression of what's in his heart.

Second, he boasts to others about them. "I have great pride in you" (v. 4b), he virtually shouts aloud. Perhaps some had thought he was speaking positively to them, when in their presence, but negatively about them to others. Can you imagine what might transpire in our churches if we were honest with and about one another, both in private and public? I dare say half the disputes that split churches and most that destroy personal relationships would never occur.

He is not simply comforted upon hearing good news of these Christians (2 Cor. 7:7), he is "filled with comfort" (v. 4c). Paul's language is consciously effusive and over the top. He wants no lingering suspicions about his true feelings for them.

Finally, "in all our affliction, I am overflowing with joy" (v. 4d). Whether his afflictions are the cause of his joy or, more likely, that in the midst of them he yet finds reason to rejoice, he wants them to know that whatever he endured to bring them the gospel, whatever he suffered to see Christ formed in them, whatever pain and deprivation he incurred so that Christ might look good in his life, and thus become the treasure in theirs, he did it joyfully.

In a day when self-appointed and self-serving "Pastors" and so-called "Leaders" fleece their flocks and burden them with the responsibility of providing for a lavish and opulent lifestyle, Paul joyfully embraced whatever hardship might come his way if only it yielded a rich spiritual harvest in the lives of those entrusted to his care.

This is the calling and character of those entrusted with the oversight of God's people. You probably won't read about it in any of the New York Times bestsellers or hear of it in the more fashionable leadership seminars. But thanks be to God for his timeless and true revelation of what makes for godly pastors and the people they serve.

Sam

In case you haven't seen the list, or simply don't care, the top five are: (1) Lew Alcindor (UCLA), (2) Oscar Robertson (Cincinnati), (3) Bill Walton (UCLA), (4) Bill Russell (San Francisco), and (5) Pete Maravich (LSU).

Now don't get me wrong. All five were incredible during their college years. It's hard for me to say anything bad about Alcindor (you may know him as Kareem Abdul Jabbar) or Walton, given the fact that I was a rabid UCLA fan while in high school and at the University of Oklahoma. What John Wooden accomplished there is the single greatest achievement in the history of the game, whether college or professional. During the same period, I was (and still am) a devoted Boston Celtic fan (which is why I utterly despise the Los Angeles Lakers, and always will), so Bill Russell would probably stand number two on my list. The "Big O" (Oscar Robertson) simply had no flaws in his game.

But the greatest college player of all time, in my humble (and correct) opinion, was Pistol Pete Maravich. Maravich played basketball at Louisiana State University when an individual was only allowed three years of eligibility, unlike today where a person can play all four years during his time in college. In spite of that, Maravich set and still holds numerous records that will probably never be broken.

He led the nation in scoring three years in a row and averaged 44 points a game. This was before there was any such thing as a three point basket. 44 points a game! In spite of only playing three years, in spite of playing without the three-point shot, he is still the all-time scoring leader in NCAA history. Had he played when the three-point shot was available, there is no doubt that he would have averaged at least 50 points a game, all three years that he played. Think about it.

He holds the record for most field goal attempts in a season. He holds the record for most field goal attempts in a career. He hit 30 free throws in one game. In one season, he scored 50 or more points ten times. He had three consecutive games in which he scored more than 50 points. During his career, he had 28 games in which he scored more than 50 points. He also had 56 games in which he scored more than 40 points.

Aside from his scoring stats, Pete was quite simply the greatest and most amazing dribbler, passer, and ball-handler that ever lived. If you haven't seen video of him, I have no words to describe his facility with a basketball. He did things on a court that defied physics and human nature. He was a magician who ignored gravity and left you wondering how a mere man could have just done that. Neither Bob Cousy nor Magic Johnson nor even Michael Jordan could do what Pete did.

I will always have indelibly imprinted on my mind the sight of a gangly, skinny, mop-haired misfit doing things that no one else has or, in my opinion, ever will do. And who can forget his floppy, rarely washed, socks (something of Pete I imitated in high school, much to my mother's dismay and disgust).

Maravich played ten years as a professional in the NBA and was the youngest man ever inducted into the NBA Hall of Fame. He was the idol of thousands, myself included, but for the majority of his adult life he was a disgrace, a living disaster.

Maravich openly and proudly rejected the God of Scripture. He pursued every possible option in his relentless effort to find meaning and purpose and joy in life. He tried Hinduism, but that didn't work. He dabbled in Buddhism, but that left him as empty as before. He immersed himself in astrology, hoping to find in the configuration of the stars and planets some indication of the meaning of his existence, but again to no avail.

He embraced reincarnation and spent time trying to discover who he was in past lives and who he might become in future lives. He experimented with astral projection, investigated UFO's, became a vegetarian, and eventually gave himself over to drugs and alcohol.

Nothing satisfied him. Nothing filled the hole in his soul. Until one night in 1982, as he lay quietly in bed, for the first time he cried out to God for help. He fell out of bed and got on his knees and committed his life to Jesus Christ. From that point on Pistol Pete Maravich became an outspoken, devoted, passionate disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ, proclaiming the gospel to everyone he met, declaring for all to hear that in the person of Jesus he had finally and fully found purpose, satisfaction, hope, and the forgiveness of sins.

Six years later, in January of 1988, at the age of 40, Maravich was playing a pick-up game of basketball in a church gymnasium in California, together with noted Christian psychologist and author James Dobson. He made a shot, turned to Dobson and said: "Boy, I feel great!" Whereupon he collapsed, dead before he hit the floor.

The autopsy report on Maravich shocked everyone, including the doctors. It revealed that Maravich suffered from a rare heart disease and that from the moment of his birth he had lacked a left coronary artery. The doctors were stunned, given the fact that few ever live beyond the age of 20 with that condition, and certainly no one to their knowledge ever played basketball in college and the NBA as Pete Maravich did.

Pete had expressed his intention to share more publicly what God had done in his life. A travel schedule was in place that would enable him to speak to the youth of our country about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. He wanted to spend more time with his wife and two sons. A movie about his life was actually in production when he died. And he was just beginning a book promotional tour to publicize his autobiography. In fact, he was scheduled to appear on Dobson's Focus on the Family radio program later that very afternoon on which he died. "The heart of man plans his ways," and surely Pete had his plans. "But the Lord establishes his steps" (Prov. 16:9).

I would like to think that in the new earth I'll get to shoot some hoops with Pistol Pete. But I strongly suspect that neither of us will be drawn to anything other than the joyful celebration of the greatness and grace of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Who was the greatest college basketball player of all time? Pete Maravich. But at present, and no doubt forever, his primary focus is on the Lamb of God, as he joins with the saints and angels around the throne, singing, "Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth" (Rev. 5:9-10).

Sam

2 Corinthians 7:1 is a call to holiness based on the rock-solid, infallible, blood-bought promises of God. "Since we have these promises," says Paul, "let us cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, bringing holiness to completion in the fear of God."

He is undoubtedly referring to those precious promises noted at the close of chapter six: God's assurance to us that he will make his dwelling in our midst, that he will walk among us and be our God, and that we shall forever be his people (v. 16; cf. Lev. 26:11-12; Jer. 24:7; 30:22; 31:33; 32:38; Ezek. 37:27); that he will welcome us to himself (v. 17) and will be our Father, even as we are his sons and daughters (v. 18; cf. Isa. 43:6; ).

Now, if ever there were good grounds for heeding an exhortation to live out in practical and experiential reality what is already true by virtue of sovereign, saving grace, that's it! We have been consecrated and set apart unto him who redeemed us and are already that holy temple in which the Spirit abides (2 Cor. 6:16).

Paul's appeal that one "cleanse" himself from all "defilement" had an obvious point of reference for the Corinthians in the first century that is no longer applicable today (or, at least not for the majority of us). He is undoubtedly thinking of their participation in a variety of ritualistic sexual activities and other illicit behavior associated with pagan temple worship. But the principle that undergirds and gives force to his exhortation is as relevant for us today as it was then for them.

The focus here is two-fold, first on the what and then on the how. What, precisely, are we being told to do? The answer to this first question is itself two-fold: (1) we are to cleanse ourselves from every defilement of body and spirit, and (2) we are to bring holiness to completion. Let's take each in turn.

Defilement is an ugly word. A variety of distasteful images come to mind, which you will be relieved to know I will not describe. One immediately thinks of a stain on an otherwise clean garment or of a moral blemish that sullies and soils. Of course, it's important to remember that not everyone believes there is such a thing as defilement, simply because the word assumes an absolute moral standard from which deviation is possible, resulting in a deficiency of character or a spiritual disfigurement that is deserving of judgment.

It may be something you see or say or in which you participate, but in every case it is unworthy of someone in whom the Spirit of God dwells, who claims God as his Father and Christ as his brother. There's no need for me to be any more specific than that, for each of us knows both from Scripture and conscience, not to mention experience and common sense, what defiles and what doesn't.

Anything, says Paul, that casts a shadow on Christian purity must be renounced. This isn't legalism but a diligent determination to display the character of Christ in word and deed. Its reach is pervasive: both "body and spirit" must be kept clean.

The word translated "body" in the ESV is literally sarx, the common NT word for "flesh". If that seems odd, Murray Harris reminds us that "there is evidence in Paul's letters of a non-pejorative use of sarx where it is synonymous with soma ["body"] and of a popular, non-theological use of sarx and pneuma ["spirit"] where they refer, in a complementary not antithetical way, to the outward and inward aspects of the person" (512). Thus, combined with pneuma or "spirit", the reference is to the whole person, both physically (sarx) and spiritually (pneuma), both outwardly and inwardly.

If one should ask how this is done, the idea here is "by keeping clear of" or "by distancing ourselves from" anything that defiles. Contrary to popular thought, this is possible without separating ourselves entirely from the world or its inhabitants. Daniel and his friends managed quite well to thrive amidst the corruption and paganism of ancient Babylon without being spiritually defiled. Paul similarly expected the Philippians to live "blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation," among whom they were to "shine as lights in the world" (Phil. 2:15).

This also entails a grace-empowered effort to bring "holiness to completion," a process that he anticipated would only be consummated at the second coming of Christ (see 1 Thess. 3:13; cf. also Phil. 3:12-14 and 1 John 3:1-3).

Finally, if that is the what of our sanctification, we must also take note of the how. Bring holiness to completion, says Paul, "in the fear of God" (v. 1b).

What does Paul mean by this? Is it "because" we fear God or "out of reverence" for him that we strive, by his grace, to live as those in whom he himself lives? Or is it "while reverencing God" or, as someone has said, "in an atmosphere of reverential fear" that we are to pursue holiness? Others say it is "by reverence" for God or "by means of fearing" him that we are to live in purity. Surely there is a sense in which all of these are true.

We earlier saw that a robust, reverential fear of God was one of the primary factors that motivated Paul to preach and persuade others to believe the gospel. Knowing that he, and all men, would one day appear before the judgment seat of Christ (2 Cor. 5:10) was sufficient to energize his efforts in making known the good news (2 Cor. 5:11).

Some folks cringe at such a thought. The very word "holiness" conjures up an image of the colorless and grumpy killjoy who lives obsessed with what not to do and where not to go and how not to speak and when not to participate. Being a Christian is reduced to an all-pervasive negative. Following Jesus is perverted into a posture of abstinence and avoidance of virtually everything, rather than an increasingly joyful conformity to how he thinks and a deepening delight in what he loves, together with a healthy aversion to whatever might threaten our complete satisfaction in him.

Holiness, then, is a good and glorious thing because it makes possible our beholding the beauty of God (Heb. 12:14)! It is the "pure in heart" who ultimately "see" and enjoy and revel in him (Matt. 5:8).

If all this seems terribly difficult and demanding, let me close simply by reminding you again of the basis on which such a life is to be pursued. God dwells among us! He is our God! We are his people! He has welcomed us! He is our Father. We are his children! Since, then, we have these promises . . ., well, you should be able to quote the verse by now.

Sam

Graham insisted he knew where it was, having been there before. But it had been a while and there was nothing in the area that alerted us to its presence. We passed several taverns where local soccer (they call it "football"!) fans were overheard debating the matches of the previous day.

Finally, Graham remembered! It was easy to miss. Set back from the street amidst rows of attached homes, there was nothing to alert you to anything special other than a few small signs announcing that it was here that Charles Haddon Spurgeon was saved.

In one of the many magazines to which I subscribe there was recently an article describing, together with color photos, several of the larger and more innovative church buildings here in the U.S. Trust me, Artillery Street Chapel in Colchester would never have qualified, then or now. There is still a very small congregation meeting there. Before Pastor Derek Hale arrived in 1991 it had three members. When he died of cancer in October of 1999 the church had grown to eight. By 2006 the membership had grown to fourteen.

The chapel is quite small, perhaps capable of holding seventy-five people. There is nothing to distinguish it physically, but spiritually, well, that's another matter. As I walked in, I immediately noticed a large bronze plague on the wall which indicated that it was supposedly near that very spot where young Spurgeon sat on January 6, 1850, although he never planned on being there.

Spurgeon lived a few miles away in the village of Hythe. On that Sunday morning he was intent on attending another service, desperate as he was to be rid of the guilt of sin that burdened his soul. "I sometimes think," wrote Spurgeon, that "I might have been in darkness and despair until now had it not been for the goodness of God in sending a snowstorm." The unexpected shift in weather forced him to seek shelter in what was then a non-descript Primitive Methodist chapel where no more than a dozen people were in attendance.

Said Spurgeon, "I had heard of the Primitive Methodists, how they sang so loudly that they made peoples' heads ache; but that did not matter to me. I wanted to know how I might be saved, and if they could tell me that, I did not care how much they made my head ache."

The minister was not present, evidently snowed in. Finally, a thin-looking man went up into the pulpit to preach. "Now, it is well that preachers should be instructed, but this man was really stupid [Spurgeon's words, not mine!]. He was obliged to stick to his text, for the simple reason that he had little else to say." The text he selected was: "Look unto Me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth." There was, Spurgeon thought, "a glimpse of hope for me in that text." The "preacher" continued:

"Now lookin' don't take a deal of pain. It ain't liftin' your foot or your finger; it is just, ‘Look.' Well, a man needn't go to College to learn to look. You may be the biggest fool, and yet you can look. A man needn't be worth a thousand a year to be able to look. Anyone can look; even a child can look. . . . Look unto Me; I am sweatin' great drops of blood. Look unto Me; I am hangin' on the cross. Look unto Me; I am dead and buried. Look unto Me; I rise again. Look unto Me; I ascend to Heaven. Look unto Me; I am sittin' at the Father's right hand. O poor sinner, look unto Me! Look unto Me!"

After about ten minutes, "he was at the end of his tether," noted Spurgeon. "Then he looked at me under the gallery [which by the way, is still there, but has long since been boarded up], and I daresay, with so few present, he knew me to be a stranger. Just fixing his eyes on me, as if he knew all my heart, he said, ‘Young man, you look very miserable.' Well, I did, but I had not been accustomed to have remarks made from the pulpit on my personal appearance before. . . . He continued, ‘and you always will be miserable - miserable in life, and miserable in death - if you don't obey my text; but if you obey now, this moment, you will be saved.' . . . I saw at once the way of salvation. . . . Oh! I looked until I could almost have looked my eyes away. There and then the cloud was gone, the darkness had rolled away, and that moment I saw the sun; and I could have risen that instant, and sung with the most enthusiastic of them, of the precious blood of Christ, and the simple faith which looks alone to Him. Oh, that somebody had told me this before, ‘Trust Christ, and you shall be saved.' Yet it was, no doubt, all wisely ordered, and now I can say -

‘E'er since by faith I saw the stream

Thy flowing wounds supply,

Redeeming love has been my theme,

And shall be till I die.'"

Who would have expected that life-giving, sin-cleansing, soul-redeeming grace could be found in that little chapel? Who would have expected that God might use the solemn words of an incredibly simple and stammering man?

Grace cares little of where it is needed. It simply goes and saves and delivers and sanctifies. God doesn't need a spacious sanctuary or multi-media technology or cutting edge sound equipment. His grace is sovereign and not the least concerned about the surroundings in which it does its work.

Make no mistake about it. On that day the breath of God blew and a blizzard turned aside a searching young soul into an out-of-the-way chapel. That same breath confined a minister to his home and stirred an uneducated layman to ascend a pulpit. And that same, saving breath brought life to the dead, dry bones of a fifteen year old boy. And we are all the better for it. Spurgeon too.

Sam

(All quotations are taken from C. H. Spurgeon: Autobiography, Volume 1: The Early Years, 1834-1859 [The Banner of Truth Trust, `1973], pp. 79-96.)

The Pentecostal and Charismatic movements have witnessed a progressive move during the course of the last century toward embracing and empowering women at all levels of spiritual authority and ministry (an insightful commentary on the history of this question is found in the article by R. M. Griffith and D. Roebuck, "Women, Role of" in The New International Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, Stanley M. Burgess, Editor [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002], 1203-09). Today, Complementarianism is decidedly a minority view among those who believe in the continuation of all spiritual gifts in the life of the church.

Charisma magazine, the flagship publication of the Pentecostal-Charismatic world, has repeatedly defended Egalitarianism and actively promotes the ministries of several high profile women such as Joyce Meyer, Paula White, Marilyn Hickey, Gloria Copeland, Juanita Bynum, and Cindy Jacobs, just to mention a few. J. Lee Grady, Charisma's Editor, has himself written a defense of Egalitarianism in a book with the intentionally inflammatory title, Ten Lies the Church Tells Women: How the Bible has been misused to keep women in spiritual bondage (Lake Mary, FL: Charisma, 2000, 220 pp.).

Those within the mainstream Word of Faith movement, as well as most advocates of the so-called "health and wealth gospel," are typically vocal Egalitarians. It almost goes without saying that among the thousands of independent charismatic churches most would endorse the ordination of women to the role of senior pastor in the local church.

However, there are a few exceptions, the most notable of which would be Sovereign Grace Ministries, under the capable leadership of C. J. Mahaney (who serves on the Board of CBMW). I should also mention New Frontiers and its leader, Terry Virgo, who have now planted more than 500 churches, primarily in the U.K. together with an increasing number in the U.S. (their churches are now found on five continents).

Grace Churches International, based in North Carolina, embraces more than 300 churches globally and is generally Complementarian in its perspective on the role of women in ministry (see http://www.gracechurchesinternational.net/). The following statement is taken from their International Handbook:

"Grace Churches International recognizes that women may enjoy the privileges of ministry without the responsibilities of government. In light of this, Grace Churches International ordains men into local eldership and five-fold ministry offices listed in Ephesians 4:11."

Women in the Vineyard

One will search in vain among official Vineyard documents prior to September 2006 for a statement articulating their beliefs on the role-relationship of male and female (the definitive history of the Vineyard is found in Bill Jackson's book, The Quest for the Radical Middle: A History of the Vineyard [Cape Town, South Africa: Vineyard International Publishing, 1999], 419pp.).

However, in the March/April 1994 issue of Vineyard Reflections, John Wimber, who gave leadership to the Vineyard until his death in 1997, wrote an extensive article entitled, "Liberating Women for Ministry and Leadership" (I want to thank Vineyard pastor, Paul Bradford, for bringing this article to my attention and for providing me with a copy of it). Although that title might suggest that Wimber was an Egalitarian, the substance of the article points in another direction. "I believe God has established a gender-based eldership of the church," wrote Wimber. "I endorse the traditional (and what I consider the scriptural) view of a unique leadership role for men in marriage, family, and in the church." Wimber proceeds to cite Ephesians 3:14-15 in pointing out that "this [view] ultimately reflects the hierarchy of the Trinity."

His conclusion is clear and unequivocal: "Consequently, I personally do not favor ordaining women as elders in the local church," a statement in support of which he refers the reader to the relevant portions in Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood, edited by John Piper and Wayne Grudem (Crossway). He argues that whereas both men and women can exercise most of the pastoral "functions" of an Elder, only men (and in Wimber's opinion, only "ordained men") can hold the office. Thus, says Wimber, "I encourage our women to participate in any ministry, except church governance."

Others would point out that in spite of his Complementarian convictions, Wimber permitted at least two notable exceptions: both Jackie Pullinger (Hong Kong) and Ann Watson (England) served as the senior leaders of their respective congregations (although I should mention that Watson viewed her role as exceptional, given the premature death of her husband, and not a position to which women in ordinary circumstances should aspire).

The Vineyard USA Board of Directors officially adopted a statement of faith in 1994 that lacks any reference to the Egalitarian / Complementarian debate. In their Theological and Philosophical Statements, under the heading of "Our Leadership Personnel Requirements," one finds an affirmation of "a strong, loving marriage in which both the husband and wife sense the call to minister" (the only Scriptural citation being Acts 18:26). Nothing more is said by way of explanation as to whether this "call to minister" might entail senior governmental or pastoral authority.

Under the leadership of Berten Waggoner, its National Director and President, The Vineyard, USA, thought it wise to clarify what until now had been a very nebulous position concerning the extent to which women might be empowered in all levels of spiritual authority. In personal e-mail correspondence with me, dated June 28, 2007, Waggoner stated that "due to the confusion among its churches concerning their position on women in leadership at a trans-local level, the leadership of the Vineyard found it necessary to make a much needed statement of clarification on this important issue."

Whereas some would consider this a dramatic turn of events for the Vineyard, especially in view of Wimber's personal stance on the subject, Waggoner and the Board disagree and regard it as simply the public acknowledgement of developments that have been gradually in the making for over a decade. In any case, September 21, 2006, will prove to be a historic moment in the history of this movement and ministry.

Although a number of Vineyard leaders had expressed their Egalitarian convictions (chief among whom was Princeton-educated theologian and pastor, Don Williams), the first indication to those outside the movement that change was on the horizon came in 2002 with the publication of Rich Nathan's book, Who Is My Enemy? (Zondervan, 2002; for a response to several of Nathan's arguments, see Wayne Grudem, Evangelical Feminism & Biblical Truth, Multnomah, 2004). Whereas Nathan did not claim to speak authoritatively on behalf of the Vineyard at large, it must be noted that he is a Board member of Vineyard USA and the Senior Pastor of one of the Vineyard's largest congregations, the 6,000 plus member Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Columbus, Ohio. More than a few were caught off-guard by his explicit endorsement and defense of Egalitarianism in this volume. Needless to say, it was a sign of things to come.

The Letter of September 21, 2006

Whatever uncertainty existed to this point in time, everything changed with a document issued on September 21, 2006 (the entire transcript can be found at http://www.vineyardusa.org/). The Vineyard USA Board of Directors sent a letter (by e-mail) to all pastors affirming what they call "the trans-local empowerment of women in leadership" (hereafter cited as Letter).The letter was authored by Bert Waggoner, but was sent with the unanimous approval of the national Board.

Waggoner notes that five years earlier (2001) a request had been made by a Vineyard church that they be allowed to appoint a woman as senior pastor. At that time the Vineyard already "had several ordained women senior pastors who were co-senior pastors with their husbands and one woman senior pastor" (Letter; I'm assuming the latter is a reference to Jackie Pullinger).

Waggoner and the Board determined that the opportunity for open dialogue was important before any decision was made. Some thirteen papers, representing both sides of the debate, were posted on the Vineyard USA website and extensive discussion was undertaken among Regional Overseers and local church pastors.

According to Waggoner's letter, "after the Regional Overseers discussed it at the Regional level and after considerable discussion at Board meetings, the Board decided to clarify what had been the de facto but unstated policy: the issue of senior pastor leadership would remain as a prerogative of the local church. Our position was that the local church was the instrument for ordination. Local churches had the freedom to decide who was to be ordained and the freedom to ordain them" (Letter).

This did not, however, address a number of unresolved issues, chief of which was what Waggoner refers to as "trans-local" leadership and relationships. For example, again citing Waggoner:

"Could women speak at our regional and national leadership conferences? Could we encourage conferences that empowered women at any level of ministry? Could we write articles . . . on successful women pastors and preachers in the movement? Could women become APCL's [Area Pastoral Care Leader] or lead Task Forces if we saw that they were gifted to do so? Could the national leadership speak positively concerning what women were doing in leadership? Were our educational systems free to train women to be pastors and national leaders? The bottom line question was, ‘Does the national leadership have the prerogative to empower women at all levels of ministry in the Vineyard?'" (Letter)

During the months of February through September of 2006, extensive discussion was engaged at all levels of leadership within the Vineyard, after which the Board "unanimously agreed" on the following position in regard to the trans-local ministry of women:

"In response to the message of the kingdom, the leadership of the Vineyard movement will encourage, train, and empower women at all levels of leadership both local and trans-local. The movement as a whole welcomes the participation of women in leadership in all areas of ministry" (Letter).

The Board also stated that "each local church retains the right to make its own decisions regarding ordination and appointment of senior pastors" (Letter). According to Waggoner, "this decision is not a dictate passed down from the national leadership. Pastors continue to be free to handle these issues according to their convictions within the context of their local churches. It is simply a description of how we will act toward women in leadership as we endeavor to lead the Vineyard movement in the U.S. at the national level" (Letter).

Waggoner is also careful to point out that the Board has "simply addressed the issue of whether to restrict someone from trans-local leadership positions in the Vineyard based on gender. We are not speaking to the questions of marital or family roles as this has never been a prominent concern in our movement. We welcome, respect, and value pastors in the Vineyard who have different positions on the issue of women's roles in the church than we have taken" (Letter)

Unresolved Issues

Decisions such as this rarely, if ever, occur in a theological vacuum, and the Vineyard is no exception. In the critically important paragraph cited above, the phrase, "in response to the message of the kingdom," is vitally important in understanding the conclusion to which Vineyard leadership ultimately came. On the one hand, the Vineyard is to be applauded for its emphasis on the Kingdom of God as the underlying theological principle that gives shape and focus to the movement. However, some in the movement are concerned that the Vineyard Board has embraced an over-realized eschatology that appeals to the consummation of the kingdom to justify what appears to be a disregard for the explicit biblical commands concerning the role of women in pastoral leadership. Whether or not this is an accurate assessment (and Waggoner insists it is not) remains to be seen.

If there is any one predominant influence within the Vineyard it may well be William Webb's book, Women, Slaves, and Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis (Downers Grove: IVP, 2001, 301 pp.), on the basis of which it is argued that the Scriptures put us on a theological trajectory that moves the church beyond the experience of the New Testament and its imperatives concerning the role relationship of men and women. Webb's book, together with others of the same theological orientation, such as John Stackhouse (Finally Feminist: A Pragmatic Christian Understanding of Gender [Baker Academic, 2005, 138 pp.]), indicate an increasing trend among Egalitarians in which the exegetical debate is conceded to Complementarians. They grant that the New Testament endorsed male headship but argue that it was an accommodation to the culture of the day to facilitate gospel ministry, not a timeless principle designed to govern relationships in the present.

I should also point out that it does seem strange that, notwithstanding the official statement released by Waggoner and the Board, they do not consider the Vineyard to be an Egalitarian movement. Evidently the Board believes that by allowing local churches to set their own policy concerning senior leadership they have stopped short of officially making the Vineyard Egalitarian. Yet, it remains to be seen to what extent Complementarian pastors will be appointed to positions of leadership at the national level and granted a voice in the shaping of the Vineyard's future.

There is also the very real problem of what Complementarian pastors should do if a woman is placed in authority over them as Regional Overseers or ACPL's by the national Board. Waggoner has made it clear that, whereas Complementarians are certainly welcome in the Vineyard, it will be difficult for pastors to remain who believe it is a violation of their conscience to serve under the leadership of women at the trans-local level. The question remains whether the letter of September 2006 will ultimately have the effect of not simply marginalizing Complementarian pastors but effectively forcing their withdrawal from membership in the Vineyard altogether.

As of June, 2007, Waggoner indicated, with regret, that six churches had withdrawn from the movement. "This loss," wrote Waggoner, "reflects that only a small minority take exception with our position to the extent of needing to dissociate from fellowship over the issue" (e-mail from Waggoner to Storms). Only time will tell of the long-term impact of this decision on the ministry and influence of the Vineyard, USA.

Sam

The starting point for understanding this crucial concept is the Old Testament narrative in which we find the visible manifestation of the splendor of God among his people, the shekinah of God, his majestic and radiant glory without which the Israelites would have been left in the darkness that characterized the Gentile world.

Before Solomon's temple, God revealed his glory in the tent or tabernacle which Moses constructed. It was there that God would come, dwell, and meet with his people. "Let them make me a sanctuary," the Lord spoke to Moses, "that I may dwell in their midst" (Ex. 25:8). It was there that "the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and [there that] the Lord would speak with Moses" (Ex. 33:9). It was there that "the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle" (Ex. 40:34). The tabernacle was where the people of Israel would draw near to hear from God, to worship God, and to stand in his presence (cf. Lev. 9:23; Num. 14:10).

What was true of the tabernacle during the days of Israel's sojourn was even more the case in the temple of Solomon. When the Ark of the Covenant was brought "to its place, in the inner sanctuary of the house, in the Most Holy Place, underneath the wings of the cherubim" (2 Chron. 5:7), "the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud, for the glory of the Lord filled the house of God" (2 Chron. 5:14).

It is against this preparatory backdrop that we read the stunning declaration of John that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth" (John 1:14). The word translated "dwelt" (skenoo) literally means "to pitch a tent" or "to live in a tabernacle" and unmistakably points back to the OT when God's glory took up residence in the tent of Moses, the portable tabernacle, and eventually in Solomon's temple.

John's point is that God has now chosen to dwell with his people in a yet more personal way, in the Word who became flesh: in Jesus! The Word, Jesus of Nazareth, is the true and ultimate shekinah glory of God, the complete and perfect manifestation of the presence of God among his people. The place of God's glorious dwelling is the flesh of his Son! The glory which once shined in the tent/tabernacle/temple of old, veiled in the mysterious cloud, was simply a foreglow, a mere anticipatory flicker, if you will, of that exceedingly excelling glory now embodied in the incarnate Word, Jesus Christ (cf. Col. 1:19).

God no longer lives in a tent or tabernacle built by human hands, nor will he ever. God's glorious manifest presence is not to be found in an ornate temple of marble, gold, and precious stones, but rather in Jesus. Jesus is the glory of God in human flesh, the one in whom God has finally and fully pitched his tent.

The point is that the temple of the Old Covenant was a type or foreshadowing of the glory of Christ. It was the place where the Law of Moses was preserved, of which Jesus is now the fulfillment. It was the place of revelation and relationship, where God met and spoke to his people. Now we hear God and see God and meet God in Jesus. It was the place of sacrifice, where forgiveness of sins was obtained. For that, we now go to Jesus. Israel worshipped and celebrated in the temple in Jerusalem. We now worship in spirit and truth, regardless of geographical locale (cf. John 4:20-26).

To meet God, to talk with God, to worship God, you no longer come to a building or a tent or a structure made with human hands. You come to Jesus! Jesus is the Temple of God!

But the story doesn't end there. We, the church, are the body of Christ and therefore constitute the temple in which God is pleased to dwell. The shekinah of Yahweh now abides permanently and powerfully in us through the Holy Spirit. When Paul describes this in his letter to the Ephesians, he refers to Jesus Christ as the cornerstone, "in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit" (Eph. 2:21-22). Simply put, God's residence is "neither a literal temple in Jerusalem nor simply heaven, but the Church, of which the Gentile Christian readers in Asia Minor were a part" (Lincoln, 158).

This formation of the temple is an on-going divine project, a continuous process (see also Eph. 4:15-16). Although it may seem strange to speak of a "building" experiencing continuous "growth", Paul surely wants us to conceive of the church as an organic entity. Recall that Peter also refers to believers somewhat paradoxically as "living stones" (1 Peter 2:5)!

Again, Paul grounds his appeal to the Corinthians in this truth: "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him. For God's temple is holy, and you are that temple" (1 Cor. 3:16-17). In his plea for sexual purity, he again asks: "Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body" (1 Cor. 6:19-20; see also the graphic portrayal of this truth in 1 Peter 2:4-10).

All this bring us to Paul's consummate declaration in 2 Corinthians 6:16b: "For we are the temple of the living God"! To reinforce this point he conflates several OT texts (Lev. 26:11-12; Isa. 52:11; Ezek. 11:17; 20:34,41; 2 Sam. 7:14) which prophesied of a coming, end-times temple, one of which is Ezekiel 37:26-27 where God declares: "I will make a covenant of peace with them. It shall be an everlasting covenant with them. And I will set them in their land and multiply them, and will set my sanctuary in their midst forevermore. My dwelling place shall be with them, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people."

Let me come straight to the point. Beginning with the incarnation and consummating in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, together with the progressive building of his spiritual body, the Church, God is fulfilling his promise of an eschatological temple in which he will forever dwell.

But what of the literal, physical temple in Jerusalem? Has it lost its spiritual significance in God's redemptive purposes? To answer this we must return to Jesus' words in Matthew 23-24.

In judgment against the Jewish people, the temple complex was abandoned by our Lord, both physically and spiritually, as he departed and made his way to the Mount of Olives. "Your house," said Jesus, "is left to you desolate" (Mt. 23:38). It has thus ceased to be "God's" house. When Jesus died and "the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom" (Mt. 27:51), God forever ceased to bless it with his presence or to acknowledge it as anything other than ichabod (the glory has departed).

Just as dramatically as Jesus had entered Jerusalem (Mt. 21:1-17, the so-called "Triumphal Entry") and its temple, he now departs. This once grand and glorious house of God is now consigned exclusively to them ("See, your house is left to you desolate," Mt. 23:38). The echoes of God's withdrawal from the temple in Ezekiel's vision reverberate in the words of our Lord (see Ezek. 10:18-19; 11:22-23). The ultimate physical destruction of the temple by the Romans in 70 a.d. is but the outward consummation of God's spiritual repudiation of it. Jesus has now left, never to return. Indeed, the action of Jesus in departing the temple and taking his seat on the Mount of Olives (Mt. 24:3) recalls Ezekiel 11:23 where we read that "the glory of the Lord went up from the midst of the city and stood on the mountain that is on the east side of the city."

This applies equally to any supposed future temple that many believe will be built in Jerusalem in the general vicinity where the Dome of the Rock now stands. It's entirely possible, of course, that people in Israel may one day build a temple structure and resume their religious activities within it. The political and military implications of such, not to mention the religious furor it would provoke, are obvious.

Whether or not this will ever occur is hard to say, but if it does it will have no eschatological or theological significance whatsoever, other than to rise up as a stench in the nostrils of God. The only temple in which God is now and forever will be pleased to dwell is Jesus Christ and the Church, his spiritual body.

It would be an egregious expression of the worst imaginable redemptive regression to suggest that God would ever sanction the rebuilding of the temple. It would be tantamount to a denial that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. It would constitute a repudiation of the Church as the temple of God and thus an affront to the explicit affirmation of Paul here in 2 Corinthians 6 and elsewhere.

Finally, let's not lose sight of the practical point Paul is making. It is because we as the church are the place of God's presence in the world today that we must guard ourselves against any and every expression of idolatry. We are not simply another cultural institution or "social service meeting the felt needs" of our neighbors. "Instead, as the new covenant people of God, the church is the ‘family of God' united by a common identity in Christ and gathered around her common worship and fear of ‘the Lord Almighty'" (Hafemann, 292). May our lives always reflect that glorious and gracious identity.

Sam

This book is the first in a series that Crossway will publish. In August of this year, To the One Who Conquers: 50 Daily Meditations on the Seven Letters of Revelation 2-3 will be released. Then, in January of 2009, More Precious than Gold: 50 Daily Meditations on the Psalms will come out. As you know, I'm currently working on 2 Corinthians and hope to have it finished sometime this summer.

The Crossway website contains the following brief description of the book.

"The truth we gain from the Scriptures is wide-ranging, the treasure is multi-faceted, and the reward is incalculable. But in the book of Colossians it can be reduced to one glorious reality: Jesus Christ. This is the Apostle Paul's point in Colossians 1:27, where he describes the greatness of the "riches" of the "glory" of the mystery that God has made known to us: "Christ in you, the hope of glory."

In his newest book, The Hope of Glory, Sam provides an aid to a careful reading of Colossians. Combining stylistic simplicity and theological substance, he writes for all Christians who are passionate to know Christ better. The 100 daily meditations can each be read in five to ten minutes so that even the busiest believer can take time to read and digest them. The result is a thorough analysis of the entire book of Colossians, broken down into manageable meditations that encourage, instruct, and uplift."

This book will prove especially useful in personal devotions, in small group settings, and in larger classes and Bible studies.

Here are a couple of endorsements:

"From years of friendship, conversation, shared burdens, mutual intercession, and the same vision of our great God, I trust Sam's biblical faithfulness. He brings a keen eye and a wakened soul to God's Word. The overflow for us is fresh insight and strong feeling. I thank God for Sam Storms. My life is sweeter because of the seasoning he brings."

John Piper, Pastor for Preaching and Vision, Bethlehem Baptist Church, Minneapolis, Minnesota

"Many devotional books lack biblical and theological depth. Storms' work is a striking exception. His meditations on Colossians faithfully communicate the message of the letter so that readers are enriched both biblically and theologically. Moreover, the meaning of Colossians is applied with wisdom and power so that I found myself encouraged, convicted, and challenged. Here is evangelical theology at its best."

Thomas R. Schreiner, James Buchanan Harrison Professor of New Testament Interpretation, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary

Sam

It would be easy for the Church to feel overwhelmed and undermanned. Abortion is law. Disdain for our cherished beliefs is commonplace. Moral decay is embraced as progress.

Just today I read of a para-church ministry that was banned from a university campus for its opposition to homosexuality, a professor who was denied tenure because of his research on Intelligent Design, and a group of Christians who were denied a zoning permit to plant a church in a residential neighborhood. And all the while Satan seems to be gaining ground. So, what's a Christian to do?

The opposition may have assumed a different form in the first century, when Paul was asking the same question, but the response of the Christian is the same in any and every age. When assaulted, afflicted, beaten or imprisoned, when pressured, persecuted, weakened or weary, here's how we fight:

"by purity, [by] knowledge, [by] patience, [by] kindness, [by] the Holy Spirit, [by] genuine love; by truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left" (2 Cor. 6:6-7).

"Oh, come on Sam. Get real. We're talking about a battle of monumental proportions. Our enemies are clever and well-equipped. They will stop at nothing to destroy the body of Christ. They are relentless and ruthless. They will use any tactic, legal or not, to win. They have unlimited financial resources, unchecked political power, and numbers that dwarf us. And here you are recommending that we fight back with pious, pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by spiritual platitudes! Give me a break! Do you really believe that the things Paul mentions here are of any value in a war that threatens to consume and destroy us?"

Well, yes.

I'm not suggesting that we withdraw from the political process or roll over and play dead. God has graciously given us laws and a variety of secular institutions and opportunities which enhance our lives and provide for the protection of the church. But our ultimate confidence and trust must be in something greater still.

In the list of nine, we begin with "purity" of motivation and behavior. Paul has already referred to his renunciation of dishonesty and his refusal to stoop to underhanded and crafty tactics (cf. 2 Cor. 4:2). Simple purity has a power to effect change and to commend the gospel far beyond any political shenanigans.

The "knowledge" or "understanding" in view probably refers not simply to theological insight but to the practical discernment in Paul as he dealt with his enemies in Corinth.

Instead of retaliation and revenge, "patience" is the order of the day when facing the indignities and insults of others. Whereas "endurance" (v. 4) is courage and perseverance while suffering unjustified adversity, "patience" or "longsuffering" is "the forbearance which endures injuries and evil deeds without being provoked to anger (Jas. 1:19) or vengeance (Rom. 12:19)" (Harris, 474).

Simple "kindness" accomplishes far more than we can imagine. Ann and I were recently in the town home of a dear friend whose new neighbor had embarked on a drunken, obscene, and violent tirade. Well past midnight, he banged on the walls and shouted vile threats. The next day, our friend took a plate of cookies next door, declaring her intentions to be a good neighbor and available to help if ever there were a need. The sinful rage of the night before has yet to reappear.

The reference to the "Holy Spirit" strikes some as odd, appearing as it does in the middle of a list of Christian virtues. Some say it is the human spirit in view, but every other time Paul uses the adjective "holy" with the noun "spirit" it refers to the Holy Spirit. Perhaps the difficulty is minimized if we understand Paul to be referring to the gifts of the Holy Spirit, his manifestation via charismata. Or perhaps he included this reference to the Spirit on realizing that the purity, understanding, patience and kindness he mentioned are themselves the fruit of the Spirit (cf. Gal. 5:22-23).

The phrase "in genuine love" calls for some explanation. The Greek term hupocrites, from which we derive our word "hypocrite", was used in reference to a person who played a part on the stage, an actor, someone who took on a role different from what they are in reality. Thus when this word is negated (anupokrito), as it is here in 2 Cor. 6:6, the word carried the force of "not good at acting on a stage" and thus "free from pretense" or "without hypocrisy" and thus sincere or genuine. Love that is feigned or that masks selfish desires only destroys. Love that is authentic commends the gospel and changes others.

In light of Paul's earlier reference to "the open statement of the truth" (2 Cor. 4:2) as something that characterizes his ministry, the phrase "by truthful speech" (lit., "by the word of truth") here in v. 6 most likely has in view his declaring of the truth of the gospel. Certainly his relationships with others were characterized by truthfulness and honesty, but his focus here is on the power of the preached and proclaimed truth of a dying and rising Savior.

Needless to say, "the power of God" alone explains how all of the preceding and following are even possible. Without the energizing presence of God, nothing we say or do will have effect. 

Yes, we are in a battle. No, our weapons are not physical, mechanical, political, or computerized. Rather, we fight "with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left" (v. 7). A soldier in Paul's day would typically wield a sword in his right hand, designed for attack, and a shield in the left for defense. As such, he was fully prepared to rebuff an assault from any direction.

Life changing, world winning power is not ultimately found in the speed of a computer chip or the most sophisticated satellite technology, far less in the military strategies of global super-powers. True power, the power that brings life to dead souls and hope to despairing hearts, the sort of power that renews and uplifts and sustains, the power that commends and adorns the gospel, is found in the simple but supernatural weapons of a pure heart, a clear head, forbearance, kindness, the manifestation of the Spirit, a love untouched by hypocrisy, truthfulness in speech, and the power of God energizing the weapons of our warfare for the sake of his kingdom.

It may not be "cool" or "sexy" or the sort of life that captures the attention of the media or power-brokers in our world, but it's what God has given us. It worked for Paul, and I trust it will work for us.

Sam

Now, I'm not at all suggesting that a person should actively seek those things that breed distress or anguish or deprivation. People who do are either masochistic or suffer from a perverted martyr complex. There's nothing inherently good in pain. In fact, it is part of our calling as Christians to help alleviate the suffering and hardship of others. But in doing so, it may well require that we ourselves willingly embrace danger, the loss of freedom and property, as well as the disruption of our cherished routines and schedules.

No one knew this better than Paul, a man who personally suffered almost indescribable agony for the sake of Christ and the welfare of his people. It's hard for me to read Paul's description of his life and not see in it a standing rebuke and counter-argument to the health and wealth "gospel" of the 21st century. Today, sadly, we are often told that if you are among God's "anointed" and "gifted" and "favored" servants you can expect (even claim) exemption from suffering, loss, and deprivation. You're a "child of the King" and thus deserve "first class" treatment! This was similar to the argument of Paul's opponents in Corinth, who insisted that a true "apostle" of Christ would never endure the things he did. It was precisely this alleged lack of so-called apostolic credentials that was used to undermine his authority and authenticity in that church.

Paul was evidently asked on numerous occasions to substantiate his claim to apostolic authority. Although he detested speaking of himself, the situation at Corinth required that he identify his qualifications. He does so on several occasions (see especially 11:16-33), one of the more explicit being here in 6:4-10. "Do you want me to commend myself for your approval," he asked? "So be it. I'm happy to present myself to you as a minister of God, and on the following grounds":

"by great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit, genuine love; by truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; through honor and dishonor, through slander and praise. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything" (2 Cor. 6:4-10).

Our focus in this meditation is on vv. 4-5 in which we find three sets of three words that describe Paul's outward circumstances, all of which, it should be noted, are in the plural, indicating multiple instances or occasions on which he suffered.

In the first set of three he mentions "afflictions, hardships, calamities". "Afflictions" is a general and all-encompassing term appearing numerous times in 2 Corinthians, the most severe of which was the life-threatening experience described in 1:8-9. "Hardships" carries the thought of being under pressure, perhaps an allusion to the constant stress to which he was subjected. The word translated "calamities" literally means "in constraints" or in a confined and narrow place from which there can be no escape. It points to Paul's feeling of being trapped by circumstances seemingly beyond his control.

The second set of three points more to the direct and extremely physical persecution to which he was subjected. He often endured "beatings" (cf. 11:23-25), whether by rods, lashes, or fists. We know specifically of only one "imprisonment" (cf. 2 Cor. 11:23) before 2 Corinthians was written, which occurred in Philippi (Acts 16). This indicates that Luke's history in Acts is obviously selective and does not purport to give us an exhaustive record of Paul's missionary experiences.

The "riots" or uprisings against Paul in the cities where he preached are numerous: at Pisidian Antioch (Acts 13:50), Iconium (Acts 14:5), Lystra (Acts 14:19), Philippi (Acts 16:22), Thessalonica (Acts 17:5-7), Berea (Acts 17:13), Corinth (Acts 18:12-17), and Ephesus (Acts 19:23-20:1).

Finally, he endured "labors, sleepless nights, [and] hunger." Unlike the first six words that describe what was done to him by others, these all refer to self-imposed hardships Paul embraced in the fulfillment of his ministry.

The word "labors" is either a reference to his work as a tent-maker (Acts 18:3), or could also refer to his extended and demanding seasons of work as a missionary, pastor and evangelist.

By "sleeplessness" he doesn't mean that he suffered from insomnia, but that he voluntarily went without sleep to serve and minister to others (Paul often refers to working "night and day"; see 1 Thess. 2:9; 2 Thess. 3:8). Whether he lost sleep from working late hours to support himself, or because he was engaged in ministry late into the night, it was a choice he joyfully embraced.

Finally, he often suffered from "hunger". There's little agreement on any single cause for this. It certainly could be a reference to his frequent fasting. Others see a self-imposed asceticism designed to alleviate any burden from those to whom he ministered. Or it could simply be a reference to his lack of food due to the hardships of travel or even the lack of money.

As you know, I travel extensively throughout the U.S. and occasionally overseas, speaking at churches and conferences. Typically, either at some point while I'm away or immediately upon my return, my wife lovingly asks such questions as: "Did the ministry go well? Did they respond positively to what you had to say? Did you sleep well in the hotel? At what restaurants did you eat? Are you feeling o.k.?"

She's never yet heard me say in reply: "They threw stones at me during my first sermon. One caught me square in the forehead. I felt my life was in jeopardy on a few occasions and I honestly didn't know if I'd escape. Two leaders in the church beat me with rods and the local sheriff threw me in jail on the second night. I didn't sleep a wink in that stinking cell and the food was so repulsive I couldn't eat a thing. Other than that, the ministry was great!"

No one in the Christian west anticipates such treatment. If we ever encountered anything remotely similar to what Paul faced, we'd wipe the dust from our shoes and never return. Surely "ministers of God" (v. 4a) who are dedicated to the gospel ought to expect the best of everything. How dare anyone deprive us of our comforts!

So what would motivate a man to willingly pursue a life characterized by the sort of hardships Paul endured? What could possibly sustain a man through such sufferings?

One answer is found in Hebrews 10:32-34. There we read of Christians who "endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to reproach and affliction, and sometimes being partners with those so treated" (vv. 32-33). Beyond this, they "joyfully accepted the plundering" of their "property" (v. 34)! Here's why. Here's how. They "knew" they "had a better possession and an abiding one" (v. 34).

The degree to which we find suffering intolerable is the degree to which we lack confidence in the glory of our inheritance in Christ. To the extent that we are embittered by oppression and persecution, we reveal our lack of satisfaction in him.

Paul was in the grip of the glory to come (cf. 2 Cor. 4:16-18), and found strength to endure. Like those believers in Hebrews 10, he feasted on the promise of a future with Christ and held fast.

Sam

We are obsessed with what others think of us. We are elated when they find in us something to praise and are crushed when they are offended. That is why we are so given to self-commendation, self-promotion, and self-improvement. So often our very identity and thus our value hang suspended on the opinion of those who "see" us.

But wait a minute. If this sort of concern for self is so sinful, why did Paul "commend" himself to the Corinthians here in 2 Corinthians 6:4a? And doesn't this conflict with his earlier denunciation of self-commendation in 3:1? It would appear from these two texts that there are at least two sorts of self-commendation, one good (6:4a) and the other bad (3:1).

Let's take a closer look at this passage (6:4a), for Paul does not "commend" himself and leave it at that, as if his efforts were devoted to securing a positive response from the Corinthian church. It is as "servants of God", or more accurately, "ministers" of God, that he and his co-workers labor to elicit their approval. And the criteria to which he appeals as grounds for their acceptance are not very appealing: afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, hunger, slander, sorrow, etc. Not the sort of things one would typically include on a resume!

Evidently Paul believed that commending oneself as a minister of God was not only permissible, but mandatory, even godly. How so? What does it mean to draw attention to oneself as a minister of God and how does it avoid the sinful self-serving that Paul and other biblical writers so consistently condemn?

I want to suggest that commending oneself as a minister of God consists of living and acting and speaking in such a way that others think not of you but of him. They don't so much look to you as through you, and in the light of your life see him. Again, to use the words of the title above, it means conducting yourself in such a manner that when others see you, God looks good! Let me explain this by asking a series of pointed (and painful) questions.

When you pray, do people comment on your eloquence or God's excellency?

When you intercede in a corporate gathering, are those present impressed with your godliness or God's goodness?

On those occasions when your life is subject to public scrutiny, do people think of the heights of your abundance or the depths of your need? Are they inclined to think about your devotion, and how fortunate God is to have you as his "minister", or are they awakened to your utter dependency and God's endless supply?

When people see how I spend money, do they conclude that God is a priceless treasure, exceedingly valuable above all worldly goods?

When people observe my relationship with others, are they alerted to the power of Christ's forgiveness of me that alone accounts for my forgiveness of them?

When we open our mouths and speak of others in public (or private), are they made to think of Jesus in whose mouth no "deceit" was found (1 Peter 2:22), the one who, when reviled, "did not revile in return" (1 Peter 2:23)?

When we respond to injustice or mistreatment, are our words and ways the sort that lead them to glorify the God-man who "did not threaten" those who abused him "but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly" (1 Peter 2:23)?

When I am seen interacting with people of another race, do observers instinctively fix their thoughts on God's love for all without regard to color of skin or ethnic heritage?

If I am complimented for some accomplishment, does the way I receive it drive onlookers to give thanks to the Lord?

Do I preach the Word in such a way that eyes are riveted on me or turned upward to behold the beauty of Christ?

Is my use of leisure time or devotion to a hobby or how I speak of my wife the sort that persuades others that my heart is content with what God is for me in Christ?

Does my reaction to bad news produce in you doubt or fear, or does it inspire confidence to trust in God's providence?

When I feel disappointment or experience a shattered dream, is your trust in his promises diminished or enhanced?

Does my reaction to suffering inspire your comfort in him?

To use Paul's word, when I "minister" among you, are you captivated by my credentials or energized to find satisfaction in God's merciful sufficiency?

Paul couldn't have cared less about his own reputation, unless by seeing him they savored God. If his weakness magnified God's power, then by all means, watch. So long as his life was a window through which others might behold the goodness and grace of Christ, he was more than happy to commend himself to their scrutiny.

"Don't look at or to me," said Paul, "but through me, as a minister of God, to the fountain of all goodness and grace."

So again, when others see you, does God look good?

Sam

Without intending to pass premature judgment on these individuals, Senator Grassley's action is indicative of a belief that exists among most people, both Christian and non-Christian, that the conduct of a "minister" ought to be consistent with the content of his/her "message". Grassley evidently shares the opinion of many who believe that the church and its ministry are discredited by the disreputable behavior of those who are its leaders and members. Conversely, the message can be enhanced and adorned by the godliness, humility, and self-sacrifice of those who proclaim the gospel of Christ crucified.

Whether or not these six are living in a way that undermines the message or in some way brings reproach on the name of Christ is for each person to decide. But the fact remains that how we as Christians conduct ourselves in the sight of others has massive repercussions on their assessment of the gospel we preach.

No one knew this better than the apostle Paul. In fact, most of 2 Corinthians is concerned with his conduct as a gospel minister and whether or not it condemns or commends him as a genuine apostle of Jesus Christ. 2 Corinthians 6:3-10 is perhaps the most explicit example of this in the entire book. We will spend several meditations unpacking its rich and instructive content. Here is what Paul said:

"We put no obstacle in anyone's way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: by great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, the Holy Spirit, genuine love; by truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; through honor and dishonor, through slander and praise. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything" (2 Cor. 6:3-10).

My concern in this meditation is solely with v. 3, where Paul writes, "We put no obstacle in anyone's way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry."

Although the ESV translates the verb simply as "we put", the present tense of the Greek should probably be rendered something along the lines of "we are trying to put no obstacle in anyone's way" with the emphasis on Paul's customary and repeated modus operandi. This is the consistent and committed posture of his labors as an apostle. There simply are no circumstances under which Paul would act any other way. There is never, ever an excuse for speaking or "ministering" in such a fashion that "fault" may be found with the good news of eternal life in Jesus Christ.

Paul's preeminent concern is with the "ministry" God has entrusted to him, not his own reputation or position or influence. The only self-commendation he cares for is as a "servant/minister" of God. He is more than willing to be slandered and ridiculed, beaten and imprisoned, just so long as the glorious good news of Christ crucified suffers no reproach.

The word translated to find "fault" (ESV) or be "discredited" (NASB) is a verb related to the noun momus, a name given to the Greek god of ridicule or mockery. Paul wants nothing in his life to be used by others as an excuse for laughing at the truth. If offense is to be taken at the gospel, let it be because of the content of what he proclaims and not any misconduct in his own life.

The "obstacle" or cause for offense is any questionable action or self-serving speech that would prompt people to doubt Paul's integrity or sincerity and thereby bring the gospel he proclaimed into disrepute or cause it to be ridiculed or censured. In the immediate context, in relation to the Corinthians, Paul might have in mind anything on his part that would hinder their acceptance of him or their fellowship with one another or their commitment to proclaim and advance the message of the gospel.

Of course, there is no guarantee that in conducting himself properly and in purity that Paul (or we) will avoid the condemnation of others. "He is thinking of unnecessary offense and unjustified censure" (Harris, 469; emphasis mine). The notion that eternal life is available only by faith in a crucified and risen messiah is inherently foolish "to those who are perishing" (1 Cor. 1:18). The Jews in Paul's day found it to be a "stumbling block" (1 Cor. 1:23a) and the Gentiles mocked it as "folly" (1 Cor. 1:23b). But where Paul was able to avoid putting an obstacle in anyone's path, "he professed to be scrupulously careful" (Harris, 469).

To illustrate Paul's point, consider this hypothetical conversation between a Christian ("Steve") and his unbelieving co-worker ("Mike").

Steve: "Mike, did you have an opportunity to read that book I gave you about Christianity?"

Mike: "Yes, and I have to be honest in saying that I was offended by much of what it said. I don't particularly like being told I'm morally depraved and a sinner! That's not the sort of language that ‘wins friends and influences people'! It's a ‘PC world', Steve, and people don't want to hear it."

Steve: "You're right. They don't. But what they want isn't of paramount importance. What they need is the truth, even if it hurts or causes offense. By the way, what was your impression of what the author said about Jesus Christ?"

Mike: "Honestly, I found it a bit ridiculous. That there is only one God who became a human being named Jesus is one thing. But to tell me that he lived a perfect life, died on a cross where he suffered for the sins of people like me, and then came back to life again; well, I felt like I was back in my college course on Greek mythology! Worst of all, though, is the argument that I need to ‘repent' of my sins and put my faith in this Jesus as my only hope for reconciliation with God. How absurd! How arrogant of you people!"

Steve: "I understand your reaction, Mike. Really, I do. But I want you to know that I'm praying for you, asking that the Spirit of God will give you eyes to see the beauty in what you now find ugly as well as a new spiritual taste for what you now find bitter. But let me ask you one more thing. Have I behaved in an offensive way? Do you see in me any hypocrisy or insincerity or do my words or actions come across as incompatible with what you know about Christianity? If so, I need to change."

Mike: "No, my beef isn't with you. Your life is remarkably consistent with your message. I wish I could say that of everyone I've known who called themselves Christians. But I can't."

Steve: "I appreciate that, Mike. But you should know that if there's anything ‘good' in me it's all because of the grace of God."

Mike: "See, that's just what I mean. I compliment you and you're so darn humble! That's a rare thing these days. In fact, if there's anything that makes me want to read the book again and at least think about the claims of Christ, it's the way you're so unashamed about your faith and your love for God. You seem so content and I've never heard you make a sexual comment about the girls in the office. Yeah, maybe I'll read it again and we can get together and talk about it."

Although not apostles, you and I are "servants of God" and have a "ministry" no less so than Paul. What "obstacles" do we put in the way of others seeing the glory of God revealed in the face of Jesus Christ? Do they find "fault" with your life? Or are they, like Mike, curious about why you turn from immorality and delight in marital fidelity? Are they intrigued by your passion for the beauty of God and your disdain for the tawdry and unseemly trivialities of this world?

When they speak of you behind your back, do they marvel at your contentment or mock you for joining others in fudging on your time sheet? Is it obvious, in the way you talk and work and live, that your happiness is rooted in a transcendent power that cannot be explained in mere earthly terms? To live in such a way that God looks good is costly. Treasuring him above all may not comport well with the ambitious and materialistic ethos of our day. But it pays a rich and eternal reward.

Let us never forget that the gospel itself is more than sufficient to offend self-centered and arrogant sinners. May it never be that we aggravate this effect with our boorish and self-aggrandizing behavior. "It is always true," writes Murray Harris, "that the life of the Christian is the most eloquent advertisement for the gospel" (469).

Sam

Sadly, the same can't be said of everyone. Consider Paul's exhortation to the Corinthians:

"Working together with him, then, we appeal to you not to receive the grace of God in vain. For he says, ‘In a favorable time I listened to you, and in a day of salvation I have helped you.' Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation" (2 Corinthians 6:1-2).

What does Paul mean by "the grace of God"? And what does it mean to "receive" it "in vain"?

The first question is the easier of the two. It may be that "the grace of God" is simply Paul's shorthand way of referring to the gospel and its benefits. In light of the immediately preceding context, he may have specifically in mind the new attitude of 5:16, the new creation of 5:17, the reconciliation of 5:18-19, the righteousness of God of 5:21, etc. All of this is wrapped up in the word "salvation" in 2 Corinthians 6:2. Murray Harris is correct in pointing out that "within the wider context of the letter, ‘the grace of God' will also refer to the present opportunity that the Corinthians have to become fully reconciled to Paul" (458).

The second question, obviously, is more difficult to answer. Some believe he is urging them not to forfeit the grace of salvation which they had earlier received. In other words, it is an exhortation to persevere and to avoid apostasy.

Others suggest that the exhortation in vv. 1-2 is not directed to those Corinthians who are already born-again, but to those in Corinth who had repeatedly heard the gospel but had made no decision. Paul was not so naïve to think that everyone in the professing church was necessarily truly converted. Therefore, his command not to receive the grace of God in vain is equivalent to an exhortation to all men not to reject the gospel of Jesus Christ. But is "to receive in vain" really the same as to utterly "reject"? I don't think so, as I'll point out below.

God's grace may be received in vain when it is received superficially or externally, as in the parable of the soils (Luke 8:4-15; Matt. 13:18-23). There the seed (gospel) falls upon rocky ground or among thorns, to be snatched away or choked by the temptations of this world. This view is similar to the previous one, insofar as the people in view are unbelievers. The difference is that, according to this interpretation, people don't explicitly reject the gospel but "receive" and "believe" it, but only in a superficial way. Their so-called "faith" is spurious and therefore temporary.

Perhaps receiving the grace of God in vain pertains not so much to salvation per se, or its forfeiture, but to the loss of potential blessings related to spiritual growth, knowledge, and joy that they would suffer by rejecting Paul as their apostle. In other words, the people are truly saved. They have genuinely received the gospel and believed it, but they have failed to progress in their Christian growth and stand in danger of losing those spiritual blessings and rewards they otherwise might have obtained. Philip Hughes embraces a similar view and suggests that

"for them to receive the grace of God in vain meant that their practice did not measure up to their profession as Christians, that their lives were so inconsistent as to constitute a denial of the logical implications of the gospel, namely, and in particular, that Christ died for them so that they might no longer live to themselves but to His glory" (218-19).

In other words, the passionate conviction which accompanied their salvation had not as yet performed its transforming work in their lives. It is to that progressive transformation of their daily experience that Paul is urging and exhorting them.

Judith Gundry-Volf suggests that to receive the grace of God in vain may be referring largely, if not exclusively, to their opposition to the apostle himself. The context surrounding this statement is Paul's description of his ministry on their behalf and his attempt to restore good relations with the Corinthians (5:13-14; 5:18-6:1; see especially his impassioned appeal in 6:11-13). In Paul's opinion, to reject him is to reject the divine grace of which he is a minister. Gundry-Volf then argues that Paul's appeal is simply "for the sake of argument only" (280). I.e., he does not believe they will reject or deny him, but if they were to do so it would be tantamount to receiving the grace of God, which was his message to them, in vain.

I think the key to this difficult text is found in the word translated "vain" (Gk., kenos; cf. its use in Gal. 2:2; Phil. 2:16; 1 Thess. 3:5). It typically means either "empty" or without content or, as here, "vain" or without purpose or result. Harris argues that "to receive God's grace ‘in vain' (eis kenon) is not to ‘reject' it . . . or even to ‘neglect' it . . . but to receive it without profit, without the intended effect being achieved. The grace is accepted, but it never attains its goal; it comes to nothing" (458-59). If so, "Paul is exhorting his Corinthian converts not to fail to profit from the proffered divine grace, or, expressed positively, to give God's grace an effective welcome, to capitalize on opportunities for spiritual growth" (Harris, 459).

But how might they let God's grace come to no end?

Consider Paul's exhortation to the Colossians that they conduct themselves wisely "toward outsiders, making the best use of the time" (Col. 4:5) or "making the most of the opportunity". Similarly, if the Corinthians "squandered God-given opportunities for bringing spiritual benefit to themselves and to unbelievers . . . , and if they failed to exercise the ministry of reconciliation (5:18) and to fulfill their role as Christ's ambassadors (5:19); more specifically, if they accommodated the false apostles (11:13-15), or embraced a ‘different gospel' (11:4), or failed to repudiate paganism (6:14-18) and personal sin (7:1; 12:20-21), or spurned Paul's overtures of reconciliation (6:13; 7:2)" (Harris, 459), they would be guilty of having received the grace of God "in vain".

If this view is correct, and I'm inclined to think it is, Paul's appeal is to Christians that they avail themselves of God's gracious enabling so that the purpose or aim of their salvation might be attained. The "grace of God" is designed to equip believers to proclaim Christ and not themselves (4:5) and to live for Christ and not themselves (cf. 5:15). I also agree with Harris that "if God's grace flows continuously, a single failure to benefit from it would not stem the flow. What would be compromised, however, would be the receipt of commendatory recompense at Christ's tribunal (5:10)" (459).

To receive the grace of God in vain, therefore, is not to reject it altogether and live as an unbeliever, nor is it to receive the grace of God and subsequently forfeit or lose its saving power. Rather, Paul is talking about the urgency and importance of the Corinthians responding to God's grace in humble obedience and seizing every opportunity to "please" the Lord (2 Cor. 5:9) in how they live, speak, act, and perhaps especially in how they respond to his efforts to rebuild and restore a relationship that had been undermined by suspicion, false reports, and the sinister efforts of the false teachers in their city.

God's grace comes to us not simply once in the gospel but as a constant and never-ceasing flow of merciful enablement and sanctifying power. Like the Corinthians, we must be diligent to avail ourselves of it at all times, taking advantage of every occasion to do "good" (rather than "evil") so that it might attain to the goal for which God has bestowed it and so that we might receive "what is due" for what we, by means of that very grace, have "done in the body" (see 2 Cor. 5:10).

Sam

Jesus, on the other hand, "knew no sin" (2 Corinthians 5:21). Again, the apostle Paul doesn't mean by this that Jesus was unaware of the existence of sin or that he lived in isolation from those who commit sin. He was not intellectually ignorant of sin or unacquainted with its devastating consequences. He "knew no sin" in the sense that he never personally committed one. He was sinless.

How often do we pause and give thanks for the sinlessness of Christ? Were he not sinless, the entire scheme of reconciliation that Paul outlines in 2 Corinthians 5:18-21 would fall flat on its face. The glorious and gracious work of God in reconciling the world to himself hinges on God "not counting" our trespasses against us because he has counted our trespasses against Christ. But this would be to no avail if Christ himself had committed trespasses which ought to have been "counted" against him. The reckoning or imputing of our guilt to Jesus, for which he then suffers the wrath of God in our stead, is only redemptive if he is himself personally guilt free.

The New Testament is crystal clear on this point. Although 2 Corinthians 5:21 is the only explicit affirmation of Christ's sinlessness in Paul's writings, we should also take note of his reference to the "obedience" of the Son in both Romans 5:19 and Philippians 2:8.

Jesus gave the religious leaders of his day every opportunity to identify some sin in his life. "Which one of you convicts me of sin?" he asked them in public (John 8:46a). The author of Hebrews reminds us that "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin" (Heb. 4:15). Jesus, he later tells us, was "holy, innocent, [and] unstained" (Heb. 7:26). He was "a lamb without blemish or spot" (1 Peter 1:19) and "committed no sin" (1 Peter 2:22).

That he didn't sin is a settled and undeniable fact. But could he have sinned? Was it in any way a possibility for him to have sinned or was it in every way impossible that he should ever have transgressed? Or, to use theological terms, was Jesus impeccable (incapable of sinning), or peccable (capable of sinning, although remaining sinless)?

I intentionally avoid technical theological language in these meditations, but bear with me for a moment as I appeal to four Latin phrases that shed light on this issue. The first is non posse non peccare, which means "not able not to sin". This describes unregenerate people and the fallen angels (i.e., demons). In other words, they necessarily sin.

Two other phrases are posse peccare ("able to sin") and posse non peccare ("able not to sin"). These describe Adam before the fall, regenerate people, and Jesus, if one denies his impeccability. Finally, there is non posse peccare, or "not able to sin". This would be true of God, the saints in heaven, and Jesus, if one affirms his impeccability.

My question is this: Was Jesus Christ sinless because he could not sin (non posse peccare) or because he would not sin? Was he constitutionally incapable of sinning or merely volitionally unwilling to sin? To say that Jesus could have sinned, even though he did not, is to say he was peccable. To say that Jesus could not have sinned, and therefore didn't, is to say he was impeccable.

The most helpful concrete illustration of this issue is the confrontation Jesus had with Satan in the wilderness (cf. Luke 4:1-13). When Satan came to him with those three temptations, could Jesus have succumbed? We know he didn't, and we are eternally grateful. But was it possible for him not to have resisted? Those who affirm impeccability respond with a definitive "No"! Those who deny impeccability counter with three observations, only two of which, in my opinion, are helpful.

First, those who deny impeccability argue that if he could not sin, he was not truly human. After all, "to err is human." This argument is weak, for it is not necessary to human nature that one be capable of sinning. When finally in heaven, having been glorified, the saints will be incapable of sinning, but they will not for that reason be less human then than they are now on earth.

A second argument often heard is that if Jesus could not have sinned, he was not genuinely tempted. True temptation requires the possibility of sinning. That he refused to yield to Satan's temptations no one denies. But yielding must have been possible or the encounter was a sham.

Some respond by saying that perhaps Jesus didn't know he was impeccable. In other words, even though he couldn't yield to temptation, he was unaware of the impossibility. Therefore, at least so far as his own conscious experience is concerned, the temptation would have been quite genuine. But I find it hard to believe that Jesus lacked such self-awareness. Even if he did, we don't, so what benefit is there to us in his having resisted the Devil's overtures? In other words, we find encouragement in Jesus' example only if we know he could have sinned, but didn't (1 Peter 2:21-23). So long as we know that his sinning was absolutely impossible, the force of his example is undermined, regardless of what he may have known.

A third and final argument by those who deny impeccability is that the doctrine is based on the belief that Jesus resisted the devil from the strength of his divine nature. Satan was tempting God and God, by definition, cannot sin. Regardless of the strength of his seductive appeals, Satan didn't stand a chance. After all, the finite cannot conquer the infinite. The presence within the incarnate Second Person of the Godhead of a holy and omnipotent divine nature made it impossible for him to have yielded to Satan's overtures.

For many years I strongly advocated the impeccability of Christ, insisting that because he was God incarnate he was incapable of sinning. Now, make no mistake, he was and forever is God incarnate. But I'm not so sure about his impeccability, and here's why.

As I have argued extensively elsewhere (http://www.samstorms.com/, "Kenotic View" in Christology, Theological Studies), I believe Jesus lived and ministered as a human, dependent on the power of the Holy Spirit. As a human, the possibility existed that he could have sinned, but by virtue of his unceasing reliance on the power of the Holy Spirit he did not sin. Like the first Adam, Jesus could have sinned. But as the second Adam, he chose not to.

This means that in becoming a man "the Son of God willed to renounce the exercise of his divine powers, attributes, prerogatives, so that he might live fully within those limitations which inhere in being truly human" (Hawthorne, The Presence and the Power, 208). That which he had (all the divine attributes), by virtue of what he was (the second person of the Trinity), he willingly chose not to use. Thus we see a human being doing super-human things and ask "How?" The answer is: Not from the power of his own divine nature, but through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Thus the Son chose to experience the world through the limitations imposed by human consciousness and an authentic human nature. The attributes of omnipotence, omnipresence, and omniscience were not lost or laid aside, but became latent and potential within the confines of his human nature. They are "present in Jesus in all their fullness, but no longer in exercise" (Hawthorne, 208). The incarnation thus means that Jesus "actually thought and acted, viewed the world, and experienced time and space events strictly within the confines of a normally developing human person" (210).

Look again at the various accounts of Jesus' temptation by Satan. We are told that he was not only led into the wilderness by the Spirit (Mt. 4:1) but was also being led by the Spirit in the wilderness during the entire course of the forty days (Luke 4:1; it was, no doubt, the Spirit who led Jesus to fast). "If he was being tempted by Satan for forty days (Mark 1:13), he was being led by the Spirit for those same forty days (Luke 4:1). It is impossible to escape the conclusion that these Gospel writers want their readers to understand that Jesus met and conquered the usurping enemy of God not by his own power alone but was aided in his victory by the power of the Holy Spirit" (Hawthorne, 139). He was fortified and energized by the continual infusion of divine power from the Spirit of God (see also John 3:34).

If someone should ask, "But why or how did the human Jesus always choose to rely on the power of the Spirit and thereby not sin?" The answer would be that the Spirit was always antecedent to any choice that Jesus was to make, enabling and energizing him to continue in his conscious reliance on the power the Spirit was providing. Is that not also the case with us? To whatever degree and however frequently we choose not to sin, it is because the Spirit antecedently empowered us to choose to avail ourselves of his presence and supply.

It could conceivably be said, therefore, that Jesus was peccable when it came to the metaphysical potential for sin in his own human nature (in other words, there was nothing inherent within the person of Christ that made it impossible for him to sin, any more than it was so in the case of Adam), but impeccable insofar as it was impossible for the Spirit to fail to energize Jesus' will to depend upon the power that the Spirit supplied.

The implications of this for you and me are profound, and I defer, in conclusion, to the words of Hawthorne to make the point:

"Not only is Jesus their [our] Savior because of who he was and because of his own complete obedience to the Father's will (cf. Heb. 10:5-7), but he is the supreme example for them of what is possible in a human life because of his own total dependence upon the Spirit of God. Jesus is living proof of how those who are his followers may exceed the limitations of their humanness in order that they, like him, might carry to completion against all odds their God-given mission in life - by the Holy Spirit. Jesus demonstrated clearly that God's intended way for human beings to live, the ideal way to live, the supremely successful way to live, is in conjunction with God, in harmony with God, in touch with the power of God, and not apart from God, not independent of God, not without God. The Spirit was the presence and power of God in Jesus, and fully so" (234).

Sam

But I have good news for you today! You have a reason to rejoice that far exceeds the combined effect of the difficulties and disappointments you face. The reason comes in the form of six gifts from God, but not the sort that you find wrapped with ribbon and bow and placed under a tree. Rather, these gifts are embodied in one person: Jesus Christ. Listen closely:

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isa. 9:6).

These gifts are six glorious truths concerning the person of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. But before we begin to unwrap them, one by one, there are a couple of things to note. First, when the prophet says his name shall be "called" Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, etc., he does not mean that Jesus actually bears these names, as if his mother Mary might have said: "Go tell ‘Wonderful Counselor' that dinner is ready!" Rather, these names or titles are descriptive of his character and personality. He IS the kind of person the names portray him to be.

Also, these are not merely the names or titles or descriptive phrases of some ancient historical figure. These are more than lyrics in a chorus from Handel's "Messiah" or words on a Christmas card. These names and titles express what Jesus is to you, in you, and for your sake. So I suggest that you read this passage personally: "For to me a child is born, to me a son is given . . ." Each gift has a tag with a single word.

(1) Sympathy! When the prophet declares that to us a "child is born" and a "son" is given, he highlights the fact that Jesus was and is a human being! Fully God and fully man. Wholly human and wholly divine. Both the son of a virgin peasant girl and the Son of Almighty God.

What significance does this have for you? Simply this, that "he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted" (Heb. 2:17-18). In other words, "we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Heb. 4:15-16).

There is no temptation or trial that he cannot understand. There is no struggle or sadness with which he cannot sympathize. There is no hardship or difficulty for which he cannot provide strength to endure.

(2) Supremacy! The "government", declares the prophet, "shall be upon his shoulder." If Jesus is more than able to shoulder the weight of the world, he can surely bear your burdens!

Contrast this with the structure of our government and its separation of powers. The Legislative, Judicial, and Executive branches are designed, among other reasons, so that no one person or group of individuals should bear the weight of the whole. But Jesus rules alone! Supremacy of power and authority rests with him. He is the King of kings, President of presidents, and Judge of all judges.

Terrorists may destroy, politicians may posture, armies maneuver and nations threaten, but Jesus Christ sits on the throne in unchallenged and unassailable supremacy!

(3) Sagacity! He is the "Wonderful Counselor"! Can you think of any situation in which Jesus said the wrong thing, or spoke out of turn, stuck his foot in his mouth, or remained silent when his words were needed?

His counsel is unfailing and flawless, perfectly suited to the situation, always practical and prudent. There is no problem on which he needs to "study up" or refer to a professional. I often feel the frustration of having to say to those confused or in need, "I'm sorry, but I don't know what to tell you." Jesus is never lacking for advice or an answer to satisfy our souls.

And note well: he's not simply a good counselor or wise counselor but a wonderful counselor. And not only are there wonderful things about him, he is himself a wonder! It brings to mind that simple chorus we sang in the nineties,

"Jesus, what a wonder you are!

You are so gentle, so pure and so kind.

You shine like the morning star.

Jesus, what a wonder you are!"

(4) Sovereignty! He is the "Mighty God". Jesus is not only able to give perfect advice; he is also able to supply us with the power to heed it. He is able to enable you to achieve what he advises! When people leave my presence, taking with them what little wisdom I may have provided, I've done all I can do. I can't energize their wills or empower their hearts or stir their souls to act on what they know to be true. But Jesus can!

Of the six truths about Jesus in this passage, this is the one non-Christians despise the most. The world is willing to acknowledge the "baby" Jesus, "away in a manger," helpless, cuddly, and vulnerable. Christmas is o.k., if that's as far as it goes, for it poses no threat to one's sin and pride and personal autonomy. Speak and sing, if you must, of swaddling clothes and the tiny, tender infant. But then declare that this babe in a manger is also the Mighty God, Holy, Infinite, Sovereign over all, and they want nothing to do with him. Jesus in a manger is one thing. Jesus on a throne is something else altogether!

(5) Sensitivity! Why this word to describe Jesus as "Eternal Father"? First, the term "father" is not used here in the Trinitarian sense, as if depicting relationships within the Godhead. The prophet is not saying that the Son is also the Father (a heresy denounced in the early church councils).

The word "Father" is a descriptive analogy pointing to Christ's character. What does a "father" do? What image is evoked by the word? I suggest he has in mind the tenderness and sensitivity of a compassionate and affectionate father. It is the security and love he provides, as well as protection and provision. Jesus, therefore, is fatherly, father-like, in his treatment of us. This is similar to what the psalmist had in mind when he said, "as a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him" (Ps. 103:13).

(6) Serenity! He is "the Prince of Peace"! He is the source of all serenity. He himself "is our peace" (Eph. 2:14), having broken down the barriers that divide us from one another and, most important of all, the barriers between us and God (cf. Romans 5:1).

A day is coming when he will establish peace among the nations and subdue all opposition to his rule. But now, in the present, he is here on your behalf to bring peace and joy and tranquility and calm to your heart. "I have said these things to you," spoke Jesus, "that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world" (John 16:33).

At Christmas, children often spend time dividing up the presents under the tree, counting who in the family has the most (well, I did anyway; yes, it was carnal and materialistic, but I was only a kid!). Today I'm here to reassure you that you will never go gift-less, not on Christmas morn nor any other time of the year.

Here are six gifts from God, specially wrapped and delivered . . . for you! A sympathetic friend, a supreme and unchallenged Lord over all, wonderfully wise, always able to act on behalf of those who trust him, sensitive and caring and compassionate, the giver of all peace and comfort and consolation. Merry Christmas!

Sam

Do you find yourself coerced by an external force, perhaps a threat, a promise, or the hope of winning the lottery (that's not an endorsement to purchase a ticket)? Is your life defined by the expectations of others or the fear of what may befall you should you choose to renege on your obligations?

The apostle Paul was a driven man, a man with seemingly endless energy, a man who gave every appearance to those who knew him of being impelled by an unseen power. How else do we explain his life, especially as it is portrayed in the book of 2 Corinthians?

I ask this question today in view of Paul's own explicit word of testimony concerning the driving force of his daily existence. Read it closely:

"For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died; and he died for all, that those who live might no longer live for themselves but for him who for their sake died and was raised" (2 Corinthians 5:14-15; emphasis mine).

Quite clearly love is the power that accounts for Paul's remarkable life and willing sacrifice for the church and the glory of God. But whose love, and for what? You don't need to understand Greek to see that the phrase in question can be interpreted in one of two ways. Paul is either referring to his love for Christ or to Christ's love for him (and some would argue that both are in mind!). I'm glad the ESV has chosen not to interpret the phrase for us. In my opinion, that is the task for the student of Scripture.

Although Paul's personal love for the Lord Jesus Christ is passionate and unquestioned, I don't think that is what he has in view. There are at least two reasons why I'm convinced that Paul is referring to the love and affection that Christ has for us.

First, in virtually every other instance where Paul uses this particular construction (a personal genitive [in this case, "of Christ"] after the word "love" [Greek, agape]), it refers to the love which that person has or demonstrates or manifests. Thus, when we read about "the love of God" in Romans 5:5 or "the love of Christ" in Romans 8:35 or "the love of the Spirit" in Romans 15:30, it is the Father's love, the Son's love, and the Spirit's love for sinners that Paul has in view.

Second, and perhaps even more important, is the context. Clearly Paul has in mind Christ's death for us (he "died for all") as the preeminent expression of his love. As Paul reflects on the unfathomable sacrifice Christ made for sinners such as himself, he is gripped yet again with "the breadth and length and height and depth" (Eph. 3:18) of divine affection for hell-deserving transgressors. This, then, is the single reality that shapes and sustains and empowers his every breath, every decision, as well as every sacrifice he made.

The word translated control (ESV) or constrain literally means "hemmed in". It is as if Paul says, "I'm on a road where I can veer neither to the right nor left. I can't even retreat! I'm pushed forward by the transforming power of knowing that Jesus loved me to such an extent that he would give his life in my place on the cross."

The water that flows in a river has no choice but to follow the direction set by its banks on the right and left. Such is how Paul feels. Thus the idea is far more than that of mere "moral influence" or "persuasion." It's as if Paul says, "If ever I should be tempted to think first of my own welfare, the love of Christ at the cross takes hold of my heart and liberates me from myself and for the service of others. If ever I should use my suffering as an excuse to slow down or back off or withdraw altogether, Christ's willingness to endure the wrath of God on my behalf lights a flame in my soul that no amount of earthly comfort or promise of man's praise can extinguish!"

Perhaps this doesn't resonate with us as it did with Paul because we don't understand the magnitude of what was entailed in Christ's death for us. If that is true, let James Denney shed light on the significance of that powerful preposition translated "for":

"Plainly, if Paul's conclusion is to be drawn, the 'for' must reach deeper than this mere suggestion of our advantage: if we all died, in that Christ died for us, there must be a sense in which that death of His is ours; He must be identified with us in it; there, on the cross, while we stand and gaze at Him, He is not simply a person doing us a service; He is a person doing us a service by filling our place and dying our death!"

This, says Paul, accounts for all that I am, all that I do, everything I endure, and everything for which I hope and live. Were it not for the amazing grace and undying love of Christ as manifest in his dying my death, I would degenerate into a self-absorbed solipsist. When I feel self-pity rising up in my heart, I'm reminded of the love of Christ and thereby empowered to slay it. When I find bitterness taking root in my soul, I'm reminded of the love of Christ and thereby impelled to renounce it. And when indifference threatens my commitment, the cross of Christ's love ignites a zeal that sustains me through every trial.

Here is what controls, constrains, and impels me, says Paul: It is that Jesus chose not to hate me (though I was hateful), but to love me (though I was unlovely), and gave himself for me that I might now live for him.

Does the love of God revealed in the cross exert a similar power in your life, or in mine?

When long-held dreams are shattered against the rock of unexpected reality, do you find strength in the knowledge that he died your death so that you might live in the power of his resurrection life?

When others betray or abandon you, are you sustained by the assurance that the cross is the measure of his commitment to you and the pledge, in blood, that he will never leave you or forsake you (cf. Hebrews 13:5)?

Does the reminder that "he who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for" your sake (Romans 8:32) prove adequate in times of despair and depression and confusion?

I ask you today (as I ask myself): What "constrains" your choices? What "controls" your mind? What animates your affections? What empowers your relationships? I pray that, together with Paul, you can say it is the glorious and incomparable assurance that he "loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal. 2:20b).

Sam

Others have asked the same question when they see the variety of churches in which I've either served as senior pastor, associate pastor, board member, or simply member. This would include Southern Baptist, Presbyterian, independent Bible church (with a Plymouth Brethren orientation), Vineyard, Anglican, and charismatic. By now, I suspect many of you might be inclined to say, "Sam, you're not so much eclectic in your theology as you are confused!"

So, I've decided to yield to the pressure of these repeated inquiries and briefly explain what I believe, with only a brief comment on why and a few references to material either in my books or on my website that will provide support. My aim has always been to be biblical. But, of course, everyone would say that about his or her beliefs. So here goes.

I am a Calvinistic, charismatic, complementarian, Christian hedonist. If that weren't enough to confuse you, I am also amillennial and baptistic, though I believe in rule by a plurality of Elders and maintain a moderately sacramental perspective on the spiritual presence of Christ in the Eucharist (there's a word that reflects my four years in an Anglican church!).

Please understand that the issues below are not regarded as fundamental in the sense that one must believe them in order to be a Christian. I have not listed such foundational truths as Trinitarianism, the inspiration and infallibility of Scripture, the virgin conception, sinless life, penal substitutionary sacrifice, and bodily resurrection of Christ, or the doctrine of salvation by grace alone, through faith alone, in Christ alone.

I'm focusing, rather, on issues that differentiate men and women who are all Christians. In other words, I trust you understand that I believe someone who is an Arminian-cessationist-egalitarian-dispensational-presbyterian (I dare say I've never heard of anyone being all those!), or some other odd mixture thereof can also be a Christian. I hope those who regard me as an even odder theological mixture will extend the same generosity.

So, let's look briefly at each of these and a few related sub-points.

(1)        I am a Calvinist (all five points, by the way). I hardly think this needs much explanation, and I refer you to my book, Chosen for Life: The Case for Divine Election (Crossway, 2007). There are several related issues that bear mentioning:

a. On the issue of the order of the divine decrees, I am an Infralapsarian (see Chosen for Life, pp. 213-19).

b. I believe that all those dying in infancy are elect (on my website, http://www.samstorms.com/, a defense can be found in Theological Studies, Controversial Issues).

c. I believe that regeneration, or the new birth, precedes and is the cause/source of saving faith. In other words, we are born again in order that we may believe, not the other way around.

d. In view of the present controversy, it is important that I affirm my belief in the forensic nature of justification in which the righteousness of Christ (often called his active and passive obedience) is imputed to the believer through faith alone.

(2)        I am a Charismatic. When asked if I am "charismatic" I typically respond by saying, "Tell me what you mean by the term and I'll tell you if I'm one." More times than not, what people have in mind is far and away different from what I believe. So let me simply identify several relevant issues.

a. I believe that all spiritual gifts are valid today and that nothing in Scripture suggests otherwise. My chapter in the book Are Miraculous Gifts for Today? Four Views (Zondervan) is the most extensive answer I've given to this question. Also, my book The Beginner's Guide to Spiritual Gifts (Regal) provides an answer to the question of how such gifts operate in church life today.

b. I believe that baptism in the Spirit occurs at conversion for all Christians (again, check out the two articles on the website in Theological Studies, Controversial Issues). This sets me apart from classical Pentecostalism and much of the contemporary charismatic movement.

c. Although I do pray in tongues (daily), I do not believe that this or any other spiritual gift is designed by God for all Christians. Every Christian has at least one gift while no Christian (at least, none I know) has every gift (nor should they).

d. I believe healing is in the atonement in the same way I believe all spiritual and physical blessings are in the atonement. Were it not for the death and resurrection of Christ we would have nothing but the eternal damnation that we deserve. But not all such blessings are experienced in their fullness until the consummation of all things in the New Heaven and New Earth. This would certainly be true of the healing of the body.

d. Although I do believe God heals today, I do not believe that the so-called "Health and Wealth and/or Prosperity Gospel" is in any sense a "gospel" and I ask all Christians to cease referring to it in such terms. Call it a "movement" or "philosophy" or even a "theology", but stop calling it a gospel! The same applies to what typically is called "The Word of Faith" movement, in much of which I struggle to find the presence of true, biblical "faith".

e. I believe in both (1) the finality, sufficiency, and authority of Scripture, on the one hand, and (2) the validity of revelatory gifts such as prophecy and word of knowledge, on the other. And no, the latter (2) is not a threat to the former (1).

(3)        I am a Complementarian. I've written briefly on this issue at my website. The relevant material can be found in Theological Studies. A few words of clarification are in order.

a. If I am to err, I choose to err on the side of flexibility and freedom. In other words, I hesitate to restrict women from any form of ministry that does not have explicit biblical sanction.

b. As I read the New Testament, it appears that Paul and others restrict women from serving in what I call senior governmental authority, which would include the office of Senior Pastor (i.e., that individual or pastoral office responsible for the regular, authoritative exposition of Scripture) and Elder (or Bishop, depending on which term you prefer). Therefore, I believe a woman can serve as a deacon or worship leader or counselor or any other expression of Christian ministry that does not violate Paul's injunction against women exercising authority over men (1 Timothy 2:11-15; 3:1-7; Titus 1:5-9).

(4)        I am a Christian Hedonist. Simply put, I believe it is impossible for us to desire pleasure too much, and that the pleasure we cannot desire too much is pleasure in God and all that he is for us in Jesus. For more on this, I direct you to my books, Pleasures Evermore: The Life-Changing Power of Enjoying God (NavPress) and One Thing: Developing a Passion for the Beauty of God (Christian Focus). If you want a shorter explanation, visit my website and you will see a brief article on the Home page titled, "What is Christian Hedonism?"

(5)        I am an Amillennialist. This is a huge topic on which I am currently writing a book. So I'll limit myself here to only a few specifics.

a. One of the primary reasons I am not a Premillennialist (neither Historic nor Dispensational) is because of what I read in the NT concerning the Second Coming of Christ.

To be a Premillennialist of any sort, you must believe that physical death and the curse on the natural creation will continue to exist beyond the time of Christ's return. You must believe that the New Heavens and New Earth will not be introduced until 1,000 years subsequent to the return of Christ. You must believe that unbelieving men and women will still have the opportunity to come to saving faith in Christ for at least 1,000 years subsequent to his return. To be a Premillennialist, you must believe that unbelievers will not be finally resurrected until at least 1,000 years subsequent to Christ's return and that unbelievers will not be finally judged and cast into eternal punishment until at least 1,000 years subsequent to Christ's return.

But my reading of what happens at the Second Coming of Christ indicates that then, and not 1,000 years later, physical death is swallowed up in the victory of Christ, never again to exert its power; the natural creation is delivered fully and finally from its bondage to sin; the New Heavens and New Earth are inaugurated; all opportunity for salvation of the lost comes to an end; and both the final resurrection and final judgment of all mankind occur.

b. I find no biblical support for a pre-tribulation rapture, Christian Zionism, a distinction between Israel and the Church, or a future seven year period known as the Great Tribulation.

c. I believe Matthew 24:1-35; Mark 13:1-31; and Luke 21:5-33 (otherwise known as the Olivet Discourse) refer to events that transpired in the first century, beginning with the exaltation of Christ and consummating with the destruction in 70 a.d. of both the city of Jerusalem and its Temple.

As I said, I hope to finish a book on eschatology sometime in 2008, but in the meantime you may read several articles in defense of these beliefs, available on my website under Theological Studies, Eschatology.

(6)        I am a Baptist (or, "baptistic", as some prefer). If you've recovered from (5), and I suspect many of you haven't, let me turn briefly to another broad subject and focus on several important items (rest assured, of course, that being baptistic would entail far more than simply what I mention below).

a. I believe only those who are able to provide a credible testimony of personal faith in Jesus Christ should be baptized (immersed) in water.

b. I believe that a local church should be governed by a plurality of Elders, of which the Senior Pastor is one. I see no biblical basis for a church being led by a single Elder or Pastor. (No, this does not make me a Presbyterian, although I once served as interim pastor for three years in such a church.)

c. I believe that Jesus Christ is spiritually (and therefore, really, but not physically) present in the elements of the Eucharist and that the elements are more than merely a symbol of his body and blood. They are (one of) the sacramental means by which the sanctifying (but not saving) grace of Christ is mediated to the believer. For more on this, check out the two articles titled, "What Happens in the Eucharist?" on my website, Theological Studies, Miscellaneous Topics.

(7)        I am a . . . I needed a seventh point to satisfy those who are obsessed with biblical numerology ("6" will never do, or so they tell me), so here is a brief list of other, often contentious, issues. (You can find articles on each of these issues on my website under Theological Studies, Controversial Issues.)

a. I believe that Open Theism is heretical.

b. I believe that eternal punishment in Hell is conscious and unending.

c. I believe that the NT leaves open the possibility for some form of apostolic ministry today (although without the Scripture-writing authority of the original company).

d. I believe Christians can be demonized (note, I did not say demon-possessed).

e. I do not believe the NT mandates that Christians "tithe" 10% of their income but I do believe in generous, sacrificial, proportionate giving that often times, depending on one's wealth, ought to exceed 10%.

f. While affirming the historicity of Adam and Eve as the first humans and parents of our race, I tentatively embrace the theory of an old earth and old universe. (I've not written anything on this, but may have to.)

I think that's enough to get myself into trouble with just about everyone! I must confess, however, that I'm not in the least bothered by that. My only concern is that these beliefs be grounded in Scripture and not merely experience or personal preference or an emotional wound or ambition or something that I'm required to believe in order to keep my job or because some hero of mine in centuries past happened to believe it. Isn't that something for which we all should strive?

Blessings,

Sam

Of course, the word of God is indeed more precious than gold precisely because it brings me to God and God to me. The word is indescribably precious because it tells me in countless ways why God is more precious still and to be prized above all.

In my book, Pleasures Evermore (chapter nine), I wrote this (drawing on the wording of John Piper):

"Scripture has many functions but none more vital than fueling and feeding our appetite for God. Sin tells me that pursuing purity will preclude experiencing life's greatest adventures and most satisfying pleasures. But the Word of God reinforces my decision to obey by reminding me that in obedience is the fullness of joy and in honor there is the blessing of God and in righteousness there is a thrill that not even on its best day could the sweetest of sins begin to touch."

I'm sure all Christians would gag at the suggestion that something is more precious to them than God. It's easy to get mad at a "suggestion" and in doing so to appear holy. But the problem is that it often remains only a "suggestion" that fails to translate into life. In other words, we say that God is more precious to us than anything else and that he is the treasure of greatest value and we react angrily to anyone who would argue otherwise. But do I actually live in such a way that God is seen in that light?

Do my choices reflect that God is more precious than gold or gain or whatever other goodies I might covet? Do my words draw attention to his majesty in such a way that people are drawn to him? Does my use of time indicate that I, like the apostle Paul, make it "my aim" or ambition "to please him" (2 Cor. 5:9)? Do the television programs I watch bear witness to the preeminence of God in my life? Does my stewardship of the money and other material resources God has given me declare aloud that I prize him above what I'm able to purchase?

I thank God for my inadvertently omitting an ‘l'. It forced me to think once again of what I cherish most, and to repent for having subordinated God to the many tawdry and temporal pleasures of life. My prayer is that as I continue to study his word (how precious, indeed, it is) I will be led by it to the "river of God's delights" (Ps. 37:8) and there discover, yet again, that not even gold (notwithstanding current, record breaking prices) is as precious as God!

Sam

Witherington takes great exception to this notion. I have already written extensively in defense of what Witherington finds offensive (see my book, Pleasures Evermore, especially chapter four, entitled God's Passion for God), and I see no need to repeat myself here. But here are a few thoughts on the subject that I hope might bring some light to bear on the debate.

What is the pre-eminent passion in God's heart? What is God's greatest pleasure? In what does God take supreme delight? I suggest that the pre-eminent passion in God's heart is his own glory. God is at the center of his own affections. The supreme love of God's life is God. God is pre-eminently committed to the fame of his name. God is himself the end for which God created the world.

Better, still, God's immediate goal in all he does is his own glory. God relentlessly and unceasingly creates, rules, orders, directs, speaks, judges, saves, destroys and delivers in order to make known who he is and to secure from the whole of the universe the praise, honor and glory of which he and he alone is ultimately and infinitely worthy.

The question I most often hear in response to this is that if God loves himself pre-eminently, how can he love me at all? How can we say that God is for us and that he desires our happiness if he is primarily for himself and his own glory? I want to argue that it is precisely because God loves himself that he loves you. Here's how.

I assume you will agree that your greatest good consists of enjoying the most excellent Being in the universe. That Being, of course, is God. Therefore, the most loving and kind thing that God can do for you is to devote all his energy and effort to elicit from your heart praise of himself. Why? Because praise is the consummation of enjoyment. All enjoyment tends towards praise and adoration as its appointed end. In this way, God's seeking his own glory and God's seeking your good converge.

Listen again. Your greatest good is in the enjoyment of God. God's greatest glory is in being enjoyed. So, for God to seek his glory in your worship of him is the most loving thing he can do for you. Only by seeking his glory pre-eminently can God seek your good passionately.

For God to work for your enjoyment of him (that's his love for you) and for his glory in being enjoyed (that's his love for himself) are not properly distinct.

So, God comes to you in his Word and says: "Here I am in all my glory: incomparable, infinite, immeasurable, unsurpassed. See me! Be satisfied with me! Enjoy me! Celebrate who I am! Experience the height and depth and width and breadth of savoring and relishing me!"

Does that sound like God pursuing his own glory? Yes.

But it also sounds like God loving you and me perfectly and passionately. The only way it is not real love is if there is something for us better than God: something more beautiful than God that he can show us, something more pleasing and satisfying than God with which he can fill our hearts, something more glorious and majestic than God with which we can occupy ourselves for eternity. But there is no such thing! Anywhere! Ever!

Sam

Wimber led a colorful life, to say the least, although it isn't my purpose here to write a biographical history. Rather, I want to comment briefly, yet very personally, on the great impact he had on my life and a bit on his influence within the broader body of Christ. If you are interested in the details of his life, I recommend three books: John Wimber: The Way it Was (by his wife, Carol Wimber); John Wimber: A Tribute (edited by David Pytches); and The Quest for the Radical Middle (by Bill Jackson; this latter volume is a history of the Vineyard movement, but contains considerable information on John personally).

John came to be known for many things, having been, before his conversion, an early member of the group known as the Righteous Brothers (I think John played both sax and keyboard and did a bit of drumming); as well as briefly serving on the faculty at Fuller Theological Seminary where he taught a famous course on signs, wonders, and church growth. But his fame (or infamy, as some would have it) is from his long tenure as leader of the Association of Vineyard Churches and his role as senior pastor of the Anaheim Vineyard in California.

Most, if not all, of John's books are still in print, including Power Healing and Power Evangelism, in both of which he argues for the importance of signs and wonders and the operation of miraculous gifts in the life of the church today.

I first met John in 1993 when he visited Metro Vineyard Fellowship in Kansas City where I was serving on pastoral staff. Needless to say, I will never forget it. We were having dinner at a local restaurant when someone mentioned that I was an author. "Yes, I know," said John, looking at me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I read his book."

About ten minutes of eating and random conversation passed, during which John, I suspect, was on the verge of bursting out in laughter. Suddenly something triggered the light switch in my mind, "Which book?" I asked. He leaned back in his chair and howled: "You know which one!" Indeed I did. It was my book on healing in which I had criticized some of John's comments on the subject. He would often remind me of it (always with laughter) in the days that followed.

In August of 1994, I was in Anaheim and spent several hours in his office. As we left, my eye noticed the infamous book on one of his shelves. I arranged it so that I was the last to leave, at which time I carefully pulled the volume from the shelf and quietly (or so I thought) tossed it in the nearest trash can. John wasn't fooled, as he turned and said: "Nice try, Sam, but I've already read it!"

I didn't agree with John on all points of theology, and he wasn't in the least hesitant to challenge me on a few issues where he thought I had gone astray. We also had some difference of opinion on certain decisions regarding the direction of the Vineyard as a whole. But that's not what I remember most about him. What stands out in my mind is that, regardless of our disagreements, he always welcomed and affirmed me and, I trust, prayed for me as he promised. His support and encouragement and our friendship were not suspended on whether or not we agreed on what ultimately turn out to be secondary issues in the body of Christ.

To this day I have nothing but the highest regard and deepest affection for John. I am also profoundly grateful for what I learned from him concerning the kingdom of God (John was highly influenced by George Ladd), worship (his role in the global influence of Vineyard music is incalculable), the importance of spiritual gifts in the church today, and especially his insights on the nature of divine healing.

I don't know if I read it in one of his books or heard him say it in a sermon (probably both), but one of the things that has stuck with me these many years was this comment: "I would rather pray for 1,000 people, even if only one gets healed, than not to pray for any and none gets healed." In fact, even if not even one gets healed, John would faithfully pray for everyone. His life and ministry were not governed by results but by what he believed he was commanded to do in the Bible.

John may well have been the most overly analyzed and criticized man in America during the 80's and early 90's. But he refused to retaliate in kind. He was gentle, but strong, kind, yet forceful when needed, always humble and self-effacing but not afraid to express his opinions or wield his authority when he believed it important to do so.

When John would come to Kansas City to speak at one of our conferences, the highlight for me was after the sessions were over. John would sit down in our hospitality room as we gathered around to ask questions and glean from his wisdom. He was always available and never regarded himself as above other Christians. He was there to serve, and we are the richer for it.

John will be remembered for many things, one of which was his unrelenting commitment to "doin' the stuff," as he often put it. As John told the story, he and Carol visited a church early in his spiritual journey, immediately after he had spent considerable time reading the gospel accounts of the life and ministry of Jesus. Following the service, John approached the pastor and asked him:

"So, when do we do the stuff?"

"The ‘stuff'," said the pastor. "What's the ‘stuff'?"

"You know," John replied, "the stuff in the Bible, like healing the sick and casting out demons. The stuff!"

"Oh," replied the pastor. "We don't do the stuff. We believe they did it back in biblical days, but we don't do it today."

With a rather confused look on his face, John could only say: "And I gave up drugs for this?"

But don't be misled by John's humor. One should never mistake his simplicity for simple-mindedness. He often referred to himself as "just a fat man trying to get to heaven," but he was extremely well-read and theologically discerning. I don't know if I've ever met anyone as street wise as John or as perceptive of the dynamics of human nature. He was a remarkably gifted leader and tens of thousands (if not considerably more) will credit him with their awakening to a more robust view of the ministry of the Spirit in today's church.

I was attending the annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society at the time when John's funeral was scheduled. Fortunately, ETS was being held in California that year so I jumped on a plane and flew to Anaheim on November 21, 1997, to join with several thousand others in the auditorium of the Anaheim Vineyard. I was stunned yet again by the extent of his influence and moved deeply by the impact of his life and leadership on people of all denominations.

John's theology will continue to be analyzed and criticized, and depending on one's perspective, either adored or deplored (or perhaps a little of both). But I thank God for him, for his reassuring smile, his encouraging words, his huge heart for the kingdom of God, and his global impact on the body of Christ.

Thanks John, for "doin' the stuff."

Sam

One of the highlights of having taught in the department of Bible, Theology, Archaeology and World Religions at Wheaton College was the annual Theology Conference, typically held in April. The conference was established by the late Timothy Phillips and Dennis Ockholm (now of Azusa Pacific College) and was co-sponsored by InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.

I mention this because I will never forget the 2002 conference (April 11-13), the theme of which was "Catholics and Evangelicals in Conversation". J. I. Packer was excellent, as was Richard John Neuhaus. But nothing could quite match the electricity caused by my former colleague Mark Noll who concluded his presentation with the statement: "The Reformation is over!" The buzz throughout the auditorium was palpable and the discussion that followed all over campus was heated.

So, needless to say, I know the answer to the question posed by the title to this new book. At least, I know what Mark Noll would say because he's already said it.

The major goals of this book are clearly stated in the Introduction. First "it is intended as an evangelical assessment of contemporary Roman Catholicism, with special attention given to the dramatic changes that have taken place since the Second Vatican Council. It deals primarily with conditions in the United States but not to the exclusion of evidence from Canada, Latin America, Europe, and elsewhere in the world" (13). The authors "do not propose a final, universal, or dogmatic assessment of Roman Catholicism" (13). The second goal is "to provide evangelical interpretations, grounded in both classical Christian theology and the broad history of Christianity, of what we see in the contemporary Catholic Church" (14).

Let me begin with a brief summary of the contents of each chapter and then follow up with a few observations as to its strengths and weaknesses.

Chapter One, titled "Things Are Not the Way They Used to Be," is a survey of developments in Catholic / Protestant relations in the past fifty or so years. The authors chronicle Billy Graham's journey from hostility toward Catholicism to his welcoming of Catholic leaders on crusade platforms. The chapter presents countless examples of individuals, publishing houses, and other evangelical organizations that have moved from suspicion to sincere embrace of those they now regard as their Catholic "brothers and sisters" in the body of Christ. A few instances of Catholic affirmation of evangelicals are also cited. Their point is simply that the antagonism between Roman Catholicism and Protestant evangelicals, once "an apparently permanent fixture" (35), has largely disappeared. "Since 1960 a new age has dawned" (35).

In Chapter Two ("Historic Standoff"), Noll and Nystrom chronicle the relationship (or lack thereof) between the two groups from the time of the Reformation to the post-WWII-era. To illustrate the tensions they cite a wide array of folk, including John Foxe and his Book of Martyrs, George Whitefield, the Wesley brothers, fundamentalist leader Carl McIntyre, Yale historian Jaroslav Pelikan, Reformed author Loraine Boettner, the editorial comments of Moody Monthly, and pastor Donald Grey Barnhouse, just to mention a few.

So, "Why Did Things Change?" asks the title of Chapter Three. The final answer to this question, they suggest, "must be that God willed the changes to take place" (59). That, of course, is precisely the point of dispute. Many will contend that the changes reflect a weakening of evangelical conviction that borders on moral compromise, something of which God would thoroughly disapprove. Others, Noll and Nystrom, to be sure, see these developments as the work of divine providence in healing a breach that is offensive to the sort of spiritual unity God desires of all his people.

They first cite changes within the Catholic Church itself, something that assuredly will catch a number of evangelicals by surprise. After all, one of the long-standing myths embraced by Protestants is that Catholicism, given its position on the authority of tradition and papal infallibility, cannot change. They focus extensively on the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), the declarations of which led such a staunch Reformed evangelical as David Wells in 1972 to conclude that the vast majority of Protestant analysis of Catholic doctrine is "obsolete" (60). The council placed an obligation on Protestants, said Wells, "to revise their thinking about Rome" (60).

The authors also point to changes in world Christianity, such as "the shift to the south in the center of gravity for world Christianity" which they believe has "relativized the antagonism inherited from European church history" (63; see Philip Jenkins book, The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity for documentation of this trend). Another significant factor is the charismatic movement which "blurred lines of distinction between Protestants and Catholics as they sang common worship songs, spoke in tongues, developed a ‘personal relationship with Jesus,' and praised God together "(65). The "new music, affective worship, and expressive spirituality" (65) of charismatic renewal often trumped the age-old theological barriers between the two groups. Evangelical youth movements such as YWAM and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship also promoted positive interactions between Catholics and evangelicals.

The changes in American politics and society have contributed to the emergence of what Timothy George called an "ecumenism of the trenches" (68). Increasingly evangelicals have found themselves on the same side of the road as Catholics on numerous moral issues such as abortion, traditional family values, repudiation of pornography, etc. The long-standing evangelical fear of Catholicism as a civil threat has largely disappeared. Of the many changes within evangelicalism one may cite a growing appreciation for the Catholic emphasis on ecclesiology, tradition, intellectual life, the role of the sacraments, and aesthetics, especially in worship, again just to mention a few.

Chapter Four focuses on the many "Ecumenical Dialogues" that have transpired since Vatican II. The authors provide a survey of the discussions between Catholics and, among others, Anglicans, Methodists, Pentecostals, the Disciples of Christ, Reformed, Lutheran, and Baptists. The primary discovery was that the doctrine of the church, or ecclesiology, remains central in all such dialogues.

They briefly discuss the many theological issues on which broad agreement may be possible as well as those topics that are still an obstacle to any hope for reconciliation. The latter include such controversial themes as the place of Mary and the honor accorded her, the issue of authority (especially as it obtains in the relationship between church and Scripture), the structure of the church, and the salvific efficacy of the sacraments. On the basis of such ecumenical dialogues, can it be said that the Reformation is over? "Probably not," they conclude. "But a once-yawning chasm has certainly narrowed" (114).

The "Catechism of the Catholic Church" (1994) is the subject of Chapter Five. Here Noll and Nystrom provide a superb summary of the Catechism and its fundamental teachings. This document, they argue, "is the official teaching of the Catholic Church, and it speaks for everyone within the church. . . . If something is not in the Catechism, it is not Catholic teaching. If something is in the Catechism, it is official Catholic doctrine" (116). Evangelical Protestants who read the Catechism "will be surprised by how much of it they can affirm" (119). I certainly found this to be true when I had my students at Wheaton read it for the course "Roman Catholic Theology". Most of them were shocked at how evangelical much of the Catechism sounded. The Catechism

"upholds God as Trinity, Jesus as wholly human and wholly divine, born of a virgin, crucified for our salvation. It speaks of justification by grace through faith - and entirely as a gift from God. It speaks of Christ's physical resurrection from the dead and the new life (both temporal and eternal) this resurrection brings to his people. It promises Christ's return, anticipates a final judgment, and calls on the people of God to spread the good news of the Christian faith, as did those who first heard it" (121-22).

Noll and Nystrom aren't in denial of the many remaining problems such as the use of the rosary, relics, prayers to and from the saints, devotion to the Eucharist, the immaculate conception, perpetual virginity, and bodily assumption of Mary, the necessity of baptism for salvation, papal authority, transubstantiation, and affirmation of indulgences (minus the medieval abuses, of course). But none of this prevents them from concluding that the "The Catechism proclaims a deeply Christian faith, and it does so with grace" (150). For many evangelicals it is precisely the former issues, together with a few more, that prohibits concluding that the Catechism, and Roman Catholicism in general, is a legitimate expression of true Christian faith.

"Evangelicals and Catholics Together," the project of Catholic Richard John Neuhaus and Protestant Charles Colson, is the subject of Chapter Six. The authors provide an extensive discussion of the creation, rationale, and response to ECT I ("The Christian Mission in the Third Millennium"), ECT II ("The Gift of Salvation"), ECT III ("Your Word is Truth"), and ECT IV ("The Communion of Saints").

Perhaps the key issue addressed by this organization(?), conversation(?), movement(?), is that of justification and the nature of Christian salvation. As Noll and Nystrom point out, "if evangelicals or Catholics view the other as not redeemed, then the biblical Great Commission mandates evangelism. But are active, wholehearted practitioners of the other faith tradition actually lost or simply viewing salvation from a different angle?" (179). The following paragraph is an apt summary of the state of the debate:

"Reformed or Calvinistic evangelicals, as well as a few Lutherans, who want to see an explicit statement of forensic justification (or salvation defined strictly as God's act of imputing Christ's righteousness to the repentant sinner) will remain disappointed. By contrast, Arminians and other evangelicals who do not stress imputation as strongly find little difficulty with the theology of salvation expressed in the ECT documents. This reality points to a basic though subtle difference between Reformed and Catholic teachings on salvation. Catholics emphasize justification as a heart change that gradually shapes a believer into the image of Christ. Reformed Protestants see justification as an external legal (forensic) declaration of God that pardons a sinner and then leads to growth in holiness" (179).

The authors go on to suggest that "debate on the exact definition of justification may not be as important as it seems" (180). They cite J. I. Packer's comment that "What brings salvation, after all, is not any theory about faith in Christ, justification, and the church, but faith itself in Christ himself" (180). For those who insist, following Luther, that justification remains the article by which the church either stands or falls, this will probably not suffice.

In Chapter Seven the authors describe "Reactions from Antagonism to Conversion." Among the more antagonistic cited are the inflammatory cartoon booklets of "Jack Chick", the spirited writings of R. C. Sproul, "The Cambridge Declaration" (1996) of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals, and John MacArthur. But they also cite many evangelicals who, "though aware of continuing theological differences, are ready, as a response to Christ's prayer for unity among his people, to partner with Catholics on many fronts. These fronts include social-political cobelligerency, the affirmation of ‘mere Christianity,' a common enjoyment of historical roots, the sharing of mission and ministry, and agreement on spiritual formation" (192).

People and organizations who are on board with the latter include Keith Fournier, Pat Robertson, J. I. Packer, Richard Foster, John Armstrong of Reformation and Revival Journal, John Green (a Catholic and a Wheaton graduate who operates Emmaus Ministries, which cares for sexually exploited men in the inner city of Chicago), Logos Ministry (in southern California and Arizona), Campus Crusade for Christ, Young Life, YWAM, and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.

Among the Protestant evangelicals who have converted to Catholicism, the authors single out Thomas Howard (formerly professor of English at Gordon College and brother to Elizabeth Elliot), Dennis Martin (formerly a Mennonite, now professor at Loyola University), Peter Kreeft (formerly a Dutch Reformed Calvinist, now professor of philosophy at Boston College), musician John Michael Talbot, and Scott and Kimberly Hahn (Scott now teaches theology at Franciscan University in Steubenville, Ohio, and on occasion spoke at Wheaton as an invited guest).

The authors do make an important confession. "This chapter," they note, "treated only evangelical to Catholic conversions. Were it a different book, it would be important to hear from the many who convert from Catholicism to various branches of Protestantism" (207). I suspect that many who are reading this review have been waiting for precisely this discussion. Needless to say, they will be quite bothered by its omission. Many will contend that the Catholicism out of which they converted (or, as many would say, out of which they were "saved") bears little resemblance to the "evangelical and orthodox" version describe by Noll and Nystrom.

Chapter Eight, "An American Assessment," is the least helpful chapter of an otherwise good book. In it they seek "to sort out the current situation by analyzing the position of evangelicals and Catholics with respect to main themes in American history" (209). I suspect that many who read the book will be able to skip this chapter without great loss (although it is here that the authors briefly address the fallout from the sex-abuse scandal of the last decade).

The final chapter (9) asks the question again, "Is the Reformation Over?" They begin by pointing out that "there now exists a broad and deep foundation of agreement on the central teachings of Christianity" (230), listing several that were discussed in the chapter on the Catechism. When I read this, I wrote in the margin, "But these agreements existed in the 16th century too!" In the next paragraph, the authors acknowledge this point, but contend that "only in recent decades have the depth and significance of these common doctrinal affirmations been visible" (231).

They contend that Catholics and evangelicals "trust equally in the full inspiration and final authority of the Bible" (231). I find this hard to swallow, given the Catholic affirmation at the Second Vatican Council that "both sacred tradition and sacred Scripture are to be accepted and venerated with the same sense of loyalty and reverence" (Dei Verbum). In what meaningful sense can Scripture have "final authority" if "sacred tradition" is to be accepted and venerated with equal loyalty and reverence?

They also acknowledge that significant differences remain on how to interpret the Bible (given the Catholic emphasis on the voice of tradition and the formal teaching Magisterium of the papacy). It would appear that Noll and Nystrom do not believe that the differences over the nature of justification present an insurmountable barrier to reconciliation between the two. They believe the most serious obstacles revolve around the nature and authority of the church itself, especially as seen in the Catholic doctrine of papal infallibility and the Magisterium. Certainly, the evangelical fear that Catholic devotion to Mary occasionally borders on idolatry is cause for concern.

In the end, they suggest that "asking whether the Reformation is over may not even be the most pertinent question. It may be more to the point to ask other questions: Is God truly going to draw people from every tribe and tongue and people and nation - and major Christian tradition - to worship together the Lamb who was slain? Can he really make of them - all these tongues and peoples and traditions - a single kingdom united in the body of his Son Jesus Christ? Should believers in an all-powerful, all-merciful God doubt that such signs and wonders might still take place?" (251).

Let me close with a few observations. First, I was disappointed that Noll and Nystrom did not address the primary obstacle the Roman Catholic Eucharist poses. Contrary to what they say, it is not the question of transubstantiation or the "real presence" of Christ in the elements of the table (which isn't to say that isn't an important issue!). It is the issue of Catholic belief in the "propitiatory" efficacy of the Mass as a "sacrifice" of Christ.

The Council of Trent (16th century) issued the following declarations concerning the sacrifice of the Mass:

"And since in this divine sacrifice, which is performed in the Mass, the same Christ is contained, and is bloodlessly immolated, who once offered Himself bloodily upon the Cross; and the holy council teaches that this sacrifice is propitiatory [emphasis mine], and that by its means, if we approach God contrite and penitent, with a true heart, and a right faith, and with fear and reverence, we may obtain mercy, and grow in seasonable succour. For the Lord, appeased by the oblation of this sacrifice [emphasis mine], granting grace and the gift of repentance, remits even great crimes and sins. There is one and the same victim, and the same person, who now offers by the ministry of the priests, who then offered Himself upon the Cross; the mode of offering only being different. And the fruits of that bloody offering are truly most abundantly received through this offering, so far is it from derogating in any way from the former. Wherefore, it is properly offered according to the tradition of the Apostles, not only for the sins, punishments, satisfactions, and other wants of the living, but also for the dead in Christ, who are not yet fully purged" (Session 22, chp. 2).

"If any one shall say that the sacrifice of the Mass is only a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving, or a bare commemoration of the sacrifice made upon the Cross, and that it is not propitiatory, or that it profits only the receiver, and that it ought not to be offered for the living and the dead for their sins, pains, satisfactions, and other wants -- let him be accursed" (Session 22, Canon 3).

This obviously raises the question of whether Rome teaches that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is "repeated" in the Eucharist. Much depends on the meaning of the word "repeated". Here is what the Catechism says:

"At the Last Supper, on the night he was betrayed, our Savior instituted the Eucharistic sacrifice of his Body and Blood. This he did in order to perpetuate the sacrifice of the cross throughout the ages until he should come again . . ." (1322; emphasis mine).

"The Holy Sacrifice, because it makes present the one sacrifice of Christ the Savior and includes the Church's offering" (1330; emphasis mine).

"When the Church celebrates the Eucharist, she commemorates Christ's Passover, and it is made present: the sacrifice Christ offered once for all on the cross remains ever present. ‘As often as the sacrifice of the Cross by which Christ our Pasch has been sacrificed is celebrated on the altar, the work of our redemption is carried out" (1364; emphasis mine).

"The Eucharist is thus a sacrifice because it re-presents (makes present) the sacrifice of the cross, because it is its memorial and because it applies its fruit" (1366; emphasis in original).

"The sacrifice of Christ and the sacrifice of the Eucharist are one single sacrifice" (1367).

Does the Roman Catholic doctrine of the Eucharist undermine or question the sufficiency or finality of the redemptive work of Christ on the cross?" Peter Kreeft insists that it does not. He writes:

"Christ offered himself once for all on the Cross. He said, ‘It is finished' (Jn. 19:30). The Eucharist does not repeat this sacrifice, but re-presents it to the Father. The sacrifice that was accomplished on Calvary is offered again in each Mass. It can be offered now only because ‘it is finished', perfected, ‘a perfect offering" (Catholic Christianity, 326-27).

So, too, writes Alan Schreck, in his book Catholic and Christian:

"The Catholic church has never [!] taught that in the Mass Jesus is ‘re-sacrificed' or offered up to suffer again. The Catholic Mass is called a sacrifice because it ‘re-presents,' ‘re-enacts,' or presents once again before us, the one sacrifice of Christ on Calvary. Jesus Christ was sacrificed once, but God, in his mercy, makes present to us once again the one sacrifice of Christ through the Mass so that we human beings can enter more deeply into the reality and significance of that sacrifice. . . . What Jesus did in the past - his death on the cross - is present to God. God can make this sacrifice present to us when Christians gather to celebrate the Lord's Supper or Eucharist in his memory. Therefore, Catholic Christians believe that Jesus is not ‘re-sacrificed' in the Mass, but that his one sacrifice on Calvary is made real and present to us by God, so that we can enter into this central mystery of our faith in a new way" (133-34).

Are Kreeft and Schreck providing us with an accurate interpretation of Trent and the Catechism?

And what of the role of Indulgences and the Communion of Saints? Note again the Catechism on such matters:

"An indulgence is a remission before God of the temporal punishment due to sins whose guilt has already been forgiven, which the faithful Christian who is duly disposed gains under certain prescribed conditions through the action of the Church which, as the minister of redemption, dispenses and applies with authority the treasury of the satisfactions of Christ and the saints. An indulgence is partial or plenary according as it removes either part or all of the temporal punishment due to sin. The faithful can gain indulgences for themselves or apply them to the dead" (1471).

"In the communion of saints, ‘a personal link of charity exists between the faithful who have already reached their heavenly home, those who are expiating their sins in purgatory and those who are still pilgrims on earth. Between them there is, too, an abundant exchange of all good things.' In this wonderful exchange, the holiness of one profits others, well beyond the harm that the sin of one could cause others" (1475).

"We also call these spiritual goods of the communion of saints the Church's treasury . . . [which] is the infinite value, which can never be exhausted, which Christ's merits have before God. . . . This treasury includes as well the prayers and good works of the Blessed Virgin Mary. They are truly immense, unfathomable, and even pristine in their value before God. In the treasury, too, are the prayers and good works of all the saints, all those who have followed in the footsteps of Christ the Lord and by his grace have made their lives holy and carried out the mission the Father entrusted to them. In this way they attained their own salvation and at the same time cooperated in saving their brothers in the unity of the Mystical Body" (1476-77).

Thus, one obtains an indulgence when the Church opens for a believer

"the treasury of the merits of Christ and the saints to obtain from the Father of mercies the remission of the temporal punishments due for their sins. . . . Since the faithful departed now being purified are also members of the same communion of saints, one way we can help them is to obtain indulgences for them, so that the temporal punishments due for their sins may be remitted" (1478-79).

Do such doctrines undermine the finality and sufficiency of Christ's saving death and resurrection? Obviously, such questions beg loudly for clear and definitive answers.

And what of the doctrine of Purgatory? The Catechism defines it as follows:

"All who die in God's grace and friendship, but still imperfectly purified, are indeed assured of their eternal salvation; but after death they undergo purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven. The Church gives the name Purgatory to this final purification of the elect, which is entirely different from the punishment of the damned" (1030-31).

According to Peter Kreeft, purgatory "refines and purifies those who at the moment of death are neither good enough for an immediate heaven nor bad enough for hell. . . . Purgatory is like heaven's porch, or heaven's incubator, or heaven's wash room" (149).

Thus purgatory is the means or mechanism by which Catholics believe God applies the merits and atoning sufficiency of Christ's death to believers. My question is this: "How is it that the sufficiency of Christ's suffering for sin is applied by requiring Christians themselves to suffer for sins? Was not the former designed to eliminate the latter?"

Until these matters are addressed with more honesty and depth, I'm not prepared to say Yes in an unqualified way to the question posed by this book's title. But I suppose you will have to read it for yourself and answer it according to your convictions. And I do strongly recommend that you read it. It is extremely well-written and well-researched and will contribute much to the on-going dialogue between Catholic and Protestant.

But such was not always the case. In fact, we see in certain events associated with the Reformation how sinful and politically motivated decisions were made that affected the course of human history and how God, in his sovereignty, used them (without justifying them) to bring about the much-needed renewal of the church.

I have in mind particularly the so-called "English Reformation" and the events surrounding King Henry VIII and his progeny. I'm especially intrigued by what happened in England given the release of the film, "Elizabeth: The Golden Age," a sequel to the earlier "Elizabeth" (both of which star Cate Blanchett in the title role; although not flawless, I highly recommend both films).

The reformation in England differed from that on the continent in several ways. For example, it was dominated by political events rather than theological convictions. In addition, there was no one figure who stood out in the way Luther, Calvin, or Zwingli did in Europe. And perhaps most important of all, the struggle in England, at least in its early years, focused less on doctrinal issues of grace and the authority of Scripture and more on the nature, function and worship of the church.

There were undoubtedly influences present in England that tilled the soil, so to speak, for what was to come. I have in mind the presence of the Lollards, the English followers of John Wycliffe; the humanists such as John Colet (1466-1519) and Sir Thomas More (1478-1535), as well as certain intellectuals at Cambridge who regularly met at the White Horse Inn, a pub that acquired the name "Little Germany" where the latest Reformation intelligence fresh from the continent was discussed. Luther's writings were being widely circulated in England at this time in spite of the papal decree in 1521 that they be burned. And we should never forget that William Tyndale (1494-1536) published two editions of 3,000 copies of an English New Testament in 1525, while Miles Coverdale provided the world with the first English translation of the entire Bible in 1535.

However, the primary impetus for reform in England had little if anything to do with popular disdain for late medieval Catholicism or the spiritual appeal of Luther's doctrine of justification by faith alone. It must be traced to the political ambition, sexual lust, and overblown ego of Henry VIII.

Henry was driven by many things, one of which was his passion to ensure that he had a legitimate male heir to succeed him on the English throne. Henry was a well-educated and scholarly man, a competent theologian and musician, who spoke Latin, French, Spanish and English.

Henry's father had arranged for Henry's brother, Arthur, to marry Catherine of Aragon (daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain). But Arthur died, forcing the elder Henry to press his younger son to marry Catherine. Pope Julius II first had to set aside Arthur's marriage to Catherine lest Henry be guilty of incest. He did so reluctantly. Henry and Catherine had one child, a girl named Mary (Catherine suffered numerous miscarriages, still births, and infant deaths). By 1525 Catherine was forty and had gone seven years without a pregnancy. Henry's desire for a son, plus his growing attraction for Anne Boleyn (with whose sister, Mary, Henry had already had an affair), led him to divorce Catherine (he appealed to Lev. 20:21), an action denounced by the Pope. The Pope had come under the influence of the emperor Charles V, Catherine's nephew!

Henry proceeded to secretly wed Anne (who was pregnant by this time), while deposing Catherine. The Pope demanded he do away with Anne and reinstate Catherine, under threat of excommunication. Henry gained control of the English church and manipulated the Parliament to pass the Act of Supremacy in 1534 which declared him, the king, to be the supreme head of the Church of England. This constituted the political break with Rome.

Not all of Henry's advisors agreed with his assertion of authority. Sir Thomas More, the brilliant humanist and author of Utopia, refused to renounce allegiance to Rome and was subsequently beheaded for treason. His head was displayed on London Bridge on the end of a pike as a warning to others whose loyalties might be divided between pope and king.

In 1536 Henry dissolved all the monasteries in England, largely because he desired their wealth. Still, it was not Henry's desire to break theologically with Rome, as the doctrinal affirmation known as the Six Articles (passed by Parliament at the king's request, 1539), demonstrate: they reaffirmed transubstantiation, celibacy of priests, and other RC distinctives. The fact is, Henry appears to have had little interest in the reforms advocated by Luther or Zwingli. His aim was to retain an English form of Catholicism stripped of its allegiance to the Pope (an allegiance Henry coveted for himself alone).

Henry soon tired of Anne Boleyn, who had given him only a daughter (Elizabeth), so he had her tried and eventually executed for adultery (along with five of her lovers). Henry persuaded Thomas Cranmer to declare his marriage to Anne void so that the child Elizabeth could not succeed to the throne. Ten days later he married Jane Seymour who bore him the son he always wanted, Edward. Nine days after Edward's birth, his mother died.

Henry's next marriage was politically motivated. He married Anne of Cleves (without having laid eyes upon her), sister of a German prince, hoping thereby to solidify relations with that country and strengthen his position against France. When Henry finally saw her, he was repulsed and divorced her six months later. He then married Catherine Howard, whom he had executed in 1542 (she was charged with numerous adulterous affairs), and lastly Catherine Parr, who alone of his many wives outlived him.

When Henry died he arranged for Edward to rule first, followed by Catherine's daughter, Mary, and then Anne's daughter, Elizabeth (about whom the two films noted above are concerned).

Several important changes were made during Edward's short reign (1547-1553): the reading of the Bible in public services was approved, the Six Articles of Henry were abolished, the clergy were allowed to marry, and the cup was granted to the laity. In 1549 the Book of Common Prayer was published, reflecting a conservative, Calvinistic theology. A doctrinal confession called the 42 Articles was drafted, largely by Thomas Cranmer, with the help of John Knox of Scotland (1553). Three weeks after signing it, Edward died. The significance of Edward's reign is that during this time England broke with Rome theologically. But this was not to last.

It was also during this time that a number of Reformed theologians from the continent settled in England and were assigned by Cranmer to influential positions at several universities. Among the more influential were Martin Bucer (Strasbourg reformer and mentor of John Calvin), Peter Martyr Vermigli (an Italian by birth), and John a Lasco. Their contribution to the Protestant movement in England was profound.

Bloody Mary, as she became known to history, was Henry's daughter by Catherine of Aragon and thus had ties with the RCC. Her reign, although only five short years (1553-1558), coincided with the Catholic Counter-Reformation on the continent and she was undoubtedly influenced by it. She forced Parliament in 1553 to repeal everything Edward had done and returned England to the religious conditions that prevailed under her father.

Persecution was intense and martyrdom frequent [Foxe's Book of Martyrs chronicles much of what occurred]. Among the more than 300 who died for their Protestant faith were Hugh Latimer (1485-1555) and Nicholas Ridley (1500-1555). These two stalwarts of the reformation were ordered to be executed outside the city gate of Oxford. As they were being led to the stake, they passed the prison in which Thomas Cranmer was jailed, hoping to catch a glimpse of him and shout a word of encouragement. Indeed, Cranmer was brought to the tower of the prison by the government to watch the proceedings. Their aim was to frighten him out of his defiance. Whereas Cranmer was overcome with anguish by what he saw, falling to his knees and bewailing the event, he remained steadfast.

Engulfed by flames, and with his last breath, Latimer uttered the famous words: "Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out."

Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556) was Archbishop of Canterbury under Henry VIII and is generally regarded as the founder of English Protestantism. He was imprisoned when Mary ascended the throne. He was brainwashed while in solitary confinement and was compelled to write a denial (recantation) of his Protestant faith.

Despite his recantation, the law required that he suffer death. He was led to a packed church on the day of his execution, at which time the government and RCC anticipated that he would publicly denounce the reformation and affirm the authority of the Pope. Much to everyone's surprise, Cranmer seized the opportunity to proclaim his faith in the doctrines of the reformation. "And as for the Pope," he shouted, "I refuse him, as Christ's enemy, and Antichrist, with all his false doctrine."

Shocked, the authorities rushed to pull Cranmer from the pulpit and led him immediately to the stake. As he stood before the flames, he fulfilled a promise which he had made in his last shouts in the church. He stretched forth into the fire the hand that earlier had signed the document of recantation, declaring aloud:

"Forasmuch as my hand offended, writing contrary to my heart, my hand shall first be punished for it."

Virtually all those who were martyred lost their lives because they would not embrace the RC mass and its doctrine of transubstantiation. Those who were able to escape Mary's bloody persecution fled to Geneva (called Marian Exiles) where they studied under Calvin and Theodore Beza (among whom was John Knox).

When Mary died in 1558 she was succeeded by Elizabeth (1558-1603), daughter of Anne Boleyn. Elizabeth sought a middle ground between Protestantism and Catholicism (although her inclinations were toward the former). She passed the Act of Supremacy in 1559 that made her supreme ruler in both ecclesiastical and temporal affairs. She re-instituted the Book of Common Prayer with slight revisions and adopted the 39 Articles, a revision of Edwards' 42 Articles. In 1571 the 39 Articles were adopted by Parliament as the official creed of the Anglican Church and remain such to this day.

Pope Pius V proceeded to excommunicate Elizabeth and sent Philip of Spain to take back England for the RCC. Philip himself laid claim to the English throne via his marriage to Mary, Queen of Scots (Mary's grandmother was Henry VIII's sister). Philip's Spanish Armada was defeated in 1588. Countless explanations have been given for the demise of the purportedly superior Spanish fleet, one of which is noted by Thompson:

"As the armada came around the northern coast of Scotland and met the gales of the Atlantic Ocean, what remained of the great Spanish engine of war was hurled against the rocks or swamped in mid-ocean. No more than half of the Spanish Armada managed to struggle back to Spanish ports in 1589. History interprets the defeat of the Spanish Armada as an English victory. It was not thought so at the time. The armada had not sunk under English bombardment, but under the wind of God. 'Afflavit Deus,' said the English --- 'God blew!' (And the God who blew was no doubt Protestant). . . . It is probably an instance in which Divine Providence is given too much credit" (656-57).

Whatever explanation is most cogent, the fact remains that divine providence can hardly be given "too much credit"! Indeed, if we learn nothing else from these remarkable and often sordid events, let it be that divine sovereignty alone is sufficient to turn the arrogant, selfish, and sinful choices of men such as Henry VIII for his glory and the recovery of the gospel of grace.

Happy Reformation Day!

Sam

The answer, said Paul, is to proclaim the gospel that Jesus Christ is Lord (2 Cor. 4:5)! Through the gospel, and only the gospel, is the light that brings life to be found.

In August of 1734, Jonathan Edwards (1703-58) preached one of his most famous sermons, rather cumbersomely titled: A Divine and Supernatural Light, Immediately Imparted to the Soul by the Spirit of God, Shown to be both a Scriptural, and Rational Doctrine. In this sermon, among other things, he explained the essence of the saving experience. What is it, precisely, that occurs when God causes new life to erupt from within the depths of a spiritual corpse?

The answer of the apostle Paul is that "God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness, . . . [shines] in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4:6). "You cannot go beneath this," said John Piper. "There is no deeper reality and no greater value than the glory of God in Christ. There is no prize and no satisfaction beyond this. When you have this, you are at the end. You are home. The glory of God is not a means to anything greater. This is ultimate, absolute reality. All true salvation ends here, not before and not beyond. There is no beyond. The glory of God in Christ is what makes the gospel gospel" (A God Entranced Vision of All Things, 259).

Seeing this light and knowing this knowledge and relishing the beauty of God's glory as revealed in the face of Jesus Christ are utterly impossible for fallen and depraved people unless God sovereignly shines his regenerating and saving mercy into our hearts, thereby dispelling the darkness of unbelief and hostility, and bringing to us a new sense of the sweetness and majesty of Jesus.

The contrast between v. 6 and v. 4 is shocking. Unbelievers are blinded by Satan. Believers are enlightened by God. Satan takes one from unbelief into total darkness. God takes one from total darkness into the brilliance of Christ's light!

The obvious background for Paul's language is Genesis 1:2-3 (cf. Acts 26:12-18). The original, primeval darkness that enshrouded the creation was dispelled by the divinely creative command: "Let there be light!" Likewise, by way of analogy, in sovereign, creative mercy, God fixes his gaze upon the darkness of sin, death, and blindness in the human soul and says: "Let there be light!"

We must not miss the emphasis Paul places on the glory of the gospel as it is proclaimed and what it means to those who believe. Paul himself literally saw the glory of God revealed in the literal face of Jesus when he was encountered on the Damascus road. That which Paul saw, he now sets forth by means of "the truth" (v. 2) of the gospel addressed to the ears of his hearers (i.e., to the Corinthians, to you and me).

When we by grace respond in faith, light from the glorified Christ shines into our darkened hearts (v. 6). As Paul Barnett points out, "such 'seeing' of 'the light . . . of the glory' is, of course, metaphorical for hearing. The gospel of Christ comes first not as an optical but as an aural reality (see, e.g., Rom. 10:17; Gal. 3:2,5; cf. 3:1). Nonetheless, his words are not merely figurative. The intensity of Paul's language suggests that he is appealing to shared spiritual experience, his own and his readers'. When the gospel is heard and the hearer turns to the Lord, the veil is removed so that he now 'sees' the glory of the Lord (see on 3:16,18)" (219-220).

Don't miss this: the glory of God is present in the proclamation of the gospel (4:4-6)! This is why Paul is so offended by the "peddlers of God's word" (2:17) in Corinth and those who "tamper with" the gospel (4:2). This is not a matter of mere words or a routine speech or a competitive attempt to appear more powerful or persuasive or verbally impressive than the other guy.

The proclamation of the truth of the gospel is not entertainment. It is not a platform for a preacher to enhance his reputation or pad his pocketbook or impress people with his eloquence. A preacher or teacher must never open the Scriptures flippantly or casually, as if setting forth the truths of the gospel were no different from any other form of communication.

The same applies anytime anyone shares the gospel with a passing stranger in a restaurant or distributes a tract to a friend. Just think of it: when you speak or write or share the message of the cross, "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God [as revealed] in the face of Jesus" (v. 6) is shining forth. What an awesome calling we have! What an exquisite treasure we carry (4:7)!

Edwards referred to this phenomenon as the shining forth of a divine and supernatural light. This experience, he argued, is not to be identified with the conviction of sin that unregenerate people experience. The Spirit can act upon the soul of an unbeliever without communicating himself to or uniting himself with that person. Nor is it to be identified with "impressions" made upon the "imagination". It has nothing to do with seeing anything with one's physical eyes.

The divine and supernatural light, said Edwards, does not suggest or impart new truths or ideas not already found in the written word of God. It "only gives a due apprehension of those things that are taught in the Word of God" (110).

We must also be careful not to identify it with those occasions when the unregenerate are deeply and profoundly affected by religious ideas. One may be moved or stirred or emotionally impacted by a religious phenomenon without believing it to be true (consider, for example, the widespread popular reaction to Mel Gibson's film, "The Passion").

So what is this "divine and supernatural light" that Paul describes in 2 Corinthians 4:6? Edwards defined it as "a true sense [or "apprehension"] of the divine excellency of the things revealed in the Word of God, and a conviction of the truth and reality of them, thence arising" (111). This is a profoundly supernatural experience in which a person doesn't "merely rationally believe that God is glorious, but . . . has a sense of the gloriousness of God in his heart" (111)

If you are wondering what the difference is between "rationally" believing that God is glorious and having a "sense of the excellency" of God's glory, it is the difference between knowing that God is holy and having a "sense of the loveliness" of God's holiness. It is not only a "speculatively judging that God is gracious" but also "a sense [of] how amiable God is upon that account" or sensing the "beauty" of God's grace and holiness.

An unregenerate person may have a cognitive awareness or knowledge of the terms of the gospel of Christ. But to recognize and relish the beauty or amiableness or sweetness of that truth and feel pleasure and delight in it are due wholly to the regenerating work of the Spirit. As Edwards said, "there is a difference between having a rational judgment that honey is sweet, and having a sense of its sweetness" (112). In other words, "when the heart is sensible of the beauty and amiableness of a thing, it necessarily feels pleasure in the apprehension" (112).

How does God shine this light into our hearts? He first "destroys the enmity, removes those prejudices, and sanctifies the reason [of a person], and causes it to lie open to the force of arguments for their truth" (112). He also causes the gospel to be more lively and enables the mind to focus and think and concentrate with more intensity on what is known. But this divine and supernatural light also enables the mind and heart, by "a kind of intuitive and immediate evidence", to be convinced of the truth of the superlative excellency of what is proclaimed in the gospel of Christ as Lord. Said Edwards:

"Men have a great deal of pleasure in human knowledge, in studies of natural things; but this is nothing to that joy which arises from this divine light shining into the soul. This light gives a view of those things that are immensely the most exquisitely beautiful, and capable of delighting the eye of the understanding. This spiritual light is the dawning of the light of glory in the heart" (123).

It's hard to put into words the enjoyment, delight, and sense of the sweetness of God that is imparted by the Spirit to the soul of man! Peter calls it "joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory" (1 Peter 1:8). What a marvelous blessing, indeed, with which nothing else in heaven or earth can compare, that hell-deserving sinners have imparted to them a "new sense of the heart" that consists in delight and enjoyment and an intuitive awareness or apprehension of the sweetness of God's beauty as revealed in the face of Jesus Christ.

Let us by all means "praise God from whom all blessings flow," and in doing so remember that this, dear friend, is the greatest blessing of all.

Sam

In 2 Corinthians 4:2 Paul returns to that theme, but with a slightly different emphasis. Here he declares that he refuses "to tamper with God's word," but instead is committed to "the open statement of the truth." Whereas in 3:17 the motivation appears to be monetary gain, in 4:2 the agenda is unclear. Certainly money may still be in view, but other factors ought also to be considered.

People often "tamper" with God's word either to retain or expand their power base, to increase their popularity, or to avoid controversy and the discomfort it often creates. Some do so because of personal distaste for the hard truths of Scripture, to protect themselves against the contempt of those whose respect and acceptance they cherish, or in the interests of any number of personal agendas that require God's truth be treated as malleable and merely a means that may be manipulated to achieve whatever end is in view.

A brief glance across the broad spectrum of professing Christendom, if only here in America, reveals several expressions of the sort of "tampering" that Paul might well have in view. Let me cite a few examples.

One of the more explicit instances is the increasing trend toward either marginalizing or rejecting altogether the doctrine of penal substitutionary atonement. Such folk often insist they haven't rejected penal substitution but wish only to recast it in such a way that its unsavory elements are discarded lest we give unnecessary offence to a society that longs for a more compassionate and less "violent" Christianity. Others argue that they still embrace penal substitution but have simply repositioned it to a subordinate, tangential role in our understanding of atonement. In other words, penal substitution isn't altogether denied, it is simply de-throned from its formative status as the dominant and controlling model for what Christ accomplished and relegated to "one of many valid metaphors" for the sake of maintaining a more "holistic" view of Christ's saving work. Once this is done, the notion of penal substitution is, for all practical purposes, never heard from again.

In the final analysis, few if any of these efforts to redefine the doctrine of atonement can escape the charge of having "tampered" with God's word. The unadulterated, sharp edge of the message of the cross in which Jesus Christ has, in our stead, propitiated the wrath of a holy God is more than they can swallow. Many contend that they've merely adapted the gospel to a post-modern world but have stopped short of tampering with the truths of Scripture itself. I'll leave it for you to judge if that's true.

Another example of "tampering" with the text is the tendency to disregard certain teachings because of the difficulty they pose for life in the 21st century. I'm thinking particularly of the explosive growth among evangelicals of egalitarianism and the repudiation of any distinctions in role or responsibility between male and female, whether in marriage or ministry.

Again, of course, those who've yielded to this temptation would never countenance my use of the word "disregard". They would consider that an unfair, inflammatory, and pejorative assessment of what they've done. What they insist has occurred is that a new hermeneutical paradigm or model for reading Scripture has emerged that enables them to see that certain NT guidelines or principles previously thought to be timeless and binding on the conscience of Christians everywhere were, in fact, culturally accommodated or merely part of a trajectory of truth that liberates us from the explicit boundaries of NT teaching and elevates the church into that "ultimate ethic" toward which the text is, allegedly, pointing.

I've found that in many cases (not all, mind you, but many) it wasn't that complementarianism was found to be biblically deficient or lacking in exegetical consistency. Rather, it made them feel like "fundamentalists" and threatened their acceptance and status within the broader evangelical community, especially the academy. Not wanting to be perceived as obscurantist or theologically naïve or culturally out of step, they relished these new proposals that appeared to undermine the traditional "hierarchical" (their word) understanding of the relationship between male and female in home and church. Wanting to be seen as progressive and in touch with the cutting edge of contemporary scholarship, a complementarian view of men and women was abandoned for an "easier" and "more palatable" perspective.

Another example of what I consider "tampering" with God's word would be the growth of what George Barna has called, in the title to his most recent and popular book, the Revolution among professing evangelicals who now find active participation in local church life unappealing and, worse still, unnecessary.

Then, of course, there are those who don't like being branded as narrow-minded and arrogant exclusivists when it comes to the issue of salvation. The redemptive work of Christ may well be necessary as the foundation for any possibility of eternal life, but conscious faith in him alone is being discarded in favor of an inclusivism that now recognizes saving power in all (or most) non-Christian religions. The next (and seemingly inevitable) step for many is salvific universalism. Hell exists only in this life and on this earth, but is denied its eternal and penal dimensions.

Much could also be said of those who've tampered with God's word to justify in their own minds an embrace of homosexuality as a legitimate lifestyle and same sex marriage as a "right" that should be recognized in our society.

Perhaps the most egregious and destructive example of "tampering" with the text doesn't involve any one doctrinal issue but reflects a diminishing loss of confidence in the functional authority of Scripture and a failure to believe and act upon the life-changing power of God's word.

I'm persuaded that this is why we see so little expository preaching in our pulpits today. Although they would be extremely reticent to admit it publicly, countless pastors simply no longer believe that the biblical text, accurately explained and passionately applied, has the power to build the church. Operating with a secular standard of what constitutes "success" and under pressure to facilitate church growth (in every sense of the term), they have resorted to gimmicks, props, marketing techniques, and entertainment to the obvious detriment, and all too frequent abandonment, of exposition.

This inevitably leads to a loss of the functional authority of Scripture in church life. Whereas most would be quick to affirm the inspiration of the Bible in their statements of faith, few actually bend their beliefs to conform with Scripture or subordinate their personal preferences to the principles of the text. Affirmation of biblical authority is all too often only affirmation, with little effort made to actually yield or submit to the dictates of what God has revealed.

An illustration of this latter point is found in the national survey recently conducted by Christianity Today International and Zondervan Publishers, the results of which were given in Leadership magazine (Fall 2007). To cite only one example, a man named James Smith identified himself as a Christian but said that he does not necessarily believe that his God is any different from the one his Muslim friend worships. "I don't think that God would be a God who would shut others out of heaven because they don't use the word ‘Christian' to describe themselves," said Smith (19-20).

With all due respect, and allowing that I may have misinterpreted his comments, it doesn't matter what Smith (or Storms) thinks. Christians are not free to retain what they want to be true and spurn the clear teaching of Scripture. If Scripture is inspired, it is authoritative. And if it is authoritative, we must bow to its principles and truths even when they are uncomfortable, unpopular, or put a strain between us and friends who may believe otherwise. We dare not tamper with God's word. Ever.

Whatever our calling in life, whatever our career or ministry, my prayer is that we would say with Paul: "We have renounced disgraceful, underhanded ways. We refuse to practice cunning or to tamper with God's word, but by the open statement of the truth we would commend ourselves to everyone's conscience in the sight of God" (2 Cor. 4:2).

Sam

(1) The first thing I noticed was a short piece concerning the Indra Jatra festival in Katmandu, Nepal. The eight-day festival, celebrated by both Hindus and Buddhists, "is named after Lord Indra, the god of rain" (p. 9a).

What caught my eye wasn't the headline announcing this pagan festival but the picture that accompanied it. Two unidentified people, a man and a woman, are seen putting the final touches on the face of a hideous idol. Its features include protruding eyes, flaring nostrils and four oversized and undoubtedly sharp teeth, two of which are protruding from the top much like one would expect from a vampire in some B-horror movie. I have no way of knowing if this is a representation of the pagan deity Indra or perhaps some other "god" or "power" believed to work in tandem with or in opposition to "the god of rain".

I immediately felt three responses rising up in my heart. One was anger that yet again people refused to honor or give thanks to the One True God and instead were futile in their thinking and, while claiming to be wise, became fools and "exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles" (Rom. 1:21-23).

It angered me that anyone but our great and glorious God would be praised or given credit for the gift of rain, for he alone "makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust" (Mt. 5:45). Neither "Indra" nor any other so-called "god" is capable of doing what Yahweh does, for "he covers the heavens with clouds . . . [and] prepares rain for the earth" (Ps. 147:8). Perhaps I should let God speak for himself, as he did to Job: "Who has cleft a channel for the torrents of rain and a way for the thunderbolt, to bring rain on a land where no man is, on the desert in which there is no man, to satisfy the waste and desolate land, and to make the ground sprout with grass?" (Job 38:25-27).

A day is coming when those who worship "Indra" and other deities to whom they give credit for natural phenomena will stand before the Lord and hear him say: "Why did you not repent and give me glory for the manifestation of my goodness and greatness in creation, the consistent witness to my ‘eternal power and divine nature' (Rom. 1:20) that are ‘clearly' seen ‘in the things that have been made?' (Rom. 1:20-21). You are ‘without excuse'" (Rom. 1:20b).

My second response was one of sadness to think of such people who give themselves over to the worship and adoration of a "deity" who is utterly impotent to intervene on their behalf, utterly impotent to redeem them from sin, utterly impotent to bring this chaotic world to its consummation in Jesus Christ. It reminded me of Psalm 115:4-11 -

"Their idols are silver and gold, the work of human hands. They have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see. They have ears, but do not hear; noses, but do not smell. They have hands, but do not feel; feet, but do not walk; and they do not make a sound in their throat. Those who make them become like them; so do all who trust in them. O Israel, trust in the LORD! He is [your] help and their shield. O house of Aaron, trust in the LORD! He is [your] help and their shield. You who fear the LORD, trust in the LORD! He is [your] help and their shield."

As over against such pathetic incompetence and inability, "Our God is in the heavens; he does whatever he pleases" (Ps. 115:3)! And as I looked at those two anonymous figures in the photograph, I only wish that I could have said to them, "Don't you realize that ‘those [like the two of you] who make them [i.e., dead, lifeless, hideous idols] become like them'? Is this the image according to which you want to be conformed?"

My third reaction was one of gratitude for friends of mine like H_____ and M_____, and B_____ and N_____, and B_____ and S_____ who labor daily in Nepal, joyfully sacrificing the comforts I take for granted to bring the gospel of eternal life to those who would otherwise forever remain in spiritual darkness.

(2) The second eye-catching story was easier to see. The large headline in the Life section of the paper read: "Reaper" shows viewers a hell of a good time (p. 1d). The story concerned a new TV show scheduled to premier tonight at 9:00 eastern time. No, I won't be watching.

The show concerns a "hapless young Sam" (praise God, not me!) who is sold to the Devil by his mother and father. And what is his job in service of his new master? He is forced to work "as a hellish bounty hunter, recapturing escaped souls." As expected, Satan is portrayed as being in charge of hell, overseeing the torment of those consigned to spend an eternity there.

Aside from the fact that a show like this fails to communicate the very real and literal existence of eternal torment, it perpetuates any number of misconceptions about hell that, sadly, even many Christians mindlessly embrace. Contrary to the plot, there is no such thing (and never will be) as "escaped souls." There are no "second chances" or opportunities to "redeem" oneself. Once consigned to hell by the righteous and irreversible verdict of a good and holy God, there is no escape. Perhaps those in Hollywood, if they know anything of the biblical portrait of hell, are aware of the liberties they are taking with this story. But I doubt that they care. After all, it makes for a good laugh and an interesting twist in their efforts to gain as many viewers (and thus dollars for their commercial advertisements) as possible.

There is another distortion in this scenario, and it concerns the role of Satan in hell. Contrary to what many believe, he is not in charge there. God is. The "eternal fire" of hell was "prepared for the devil and his angels" (Mt. 25:41), not that he (and they) might oversee its application to others but precisely so that he (and they) might suffer its torments. According to Revelation 20:10, in which we find a description of the final judgment, "the devil . . . was thrown into the lake of fire and sulphur where the beast and false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever." It is God who inflicts righteous punishment on the rebellious and unbelieving, not Satan. The latter is himself a deserving object of eternal punishment, not its administrator.

I suppose some will tell me to lighten up and enjoy the show for what it is, a mindless, slightly entertaining diversion at the end of a long day at work. But may I suggest that it is precisely because of such an endless run of jokes, TV shows, and misguided feature-length films that we Christians struggle to get people today to take hell seriously. Is it any wonder that professing evangelicals are themselves beginning to question the existence of an eternal hell in favor of some version of annihilationism or universalism?

Watch this show if you must, laugh if you will, but as you do, think about those two people in Nepal preparing "Indra" for their pagan festival in Katmandu. For they and all others who exchange "the truth about God for a lie" and serve "the creature rather than the Creator" (Rom. 1:25) will one day, and forever, be in that very hell which so many casually mock. And there too, but for the grace of God, go I.

Let me close by telling you a story. A friend of mine who worked in a high-rise office building in Dallas told me of an incident one day in an elevator. It was August and the temperature was in excess of 100 degrees. As my friend entered the elevator, so too did a man who was sweating profusely and had obviously been jogging in the summer heat. "Whew," he virtually spewed out, "it's as hot as hell out there!" Without intending to be in the slightest way humorous or flippant, my friend replied, somberly, "No sir. It isn't."

So much for my experience today in reading USA Today.

Sam

All of us are tempted to measure ourselves by comparing what we've produced with that of others, especially those whom we admire or whose names are cited often in the newspaper or on the blogs. Let's admit it. We invest far too much in the opinion of the power-brokers in our society, whether spiritual or secular. What they think and how well they've done, as well as the size of their facility and the impact of their ministry weighs heavily on our minds and typically leads to feelings of inferiority and failure.

I can hardly overemphasize the devastating effects of embracing this perspective in the life of the church. It saddens me to see how many have compromised on truth, cutting corners on the gospel or softening the sharp edge of biblical morality in order to enhance one's status or increase attendance or retain the support of some significant donor.

Equally as devastating are those who've abandoned church and ministry altogether, whether from burnout or the unbearable frustration of thinking they've failed God or shown themselves incapable of fulfilling the calling on their lives.

If that even remotely resonates in your heart or if you struggle with feelings of spiritual inferiority, ministerial incompetence, or simple inadequacy as a Christian, heed well the words of the apostle Paul in 2 Corinthians 2:15-16. The biblical standard for "success" articulated in this text is a much-needed remedy for what ails so many in the church today:

"For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life" (2 Cor. 2:15-16a).

Do you want to smell good to God? Then be true to the gospel! Be faithful to its terms, articulate its promises, and don't back down from declaring the eternal consequences that come with its denial.

There are two, and only two, possible responses to the gospel of Christ. When the message is made known, everyone responds. There is no such thing as neutrality. Indifference or apathy is a myth. Not to believe the good news in Christ Jesus is to reject it. Pretending to ignore it is to deny it.

Either you are among "those who are being saved" or you are among "those who are perishing". The word of the cross is either "folly", utter and absolute foolishness, or it is "the power of God" unto salvation (see 1 Cor. 1:18). The message of Christ that Paul proclaims (and not the messenger) is itself responsible for dividing the hearers in this way.

Wherever, whenever, and to whomever the Christian proclaims the name of Jesus, a fragrance is released. To some it is an aroma of life and hope and renewal and forgiveness. Nothing can compare with the sweet smell of the Son of God. The gospel of his dying and rising for sinners awakens life and leads to life. To others it is a suffocating, poisonous stench.

Charles Spurgeon reminds us:

"The gospel is preached in the ears of all; it only comes with power to some. The power that is in the gospel does not lie in the eloquence of the preacher; otherwise men would be converters of souls. Nor does it lie in the preacher's learning; otherwise it would consist in the wisdom of men. We might preach till our tongues rotted, till we should exhaust our lungs and die, but never a soul would be converted unless there were mysterious power going with it - the Holy Ghost changing the will of man. O Sirs! We might as well preach to stone walls as to preach to humanity unless the Holy Ghost be with the Word, to give it power to convert the soul."

But what I want you to see is that Paul is a fragrance to God regardless of the response to his message! When, in the midst of suffering, he faithfully proclaims the gospel and is mocked, slandered, and the name of Jesus is blasphemed, Paul smells good to God. When, in the midst of suffering, he faithfully proclaims the same gospel and is embraced and loved and people bow the knee in love and loyalty to Jesus, Paul smells good to God.

We are a fragrance to God even when our message is rejected. So long as we remain faithful to our commission, we smell good to God. Though our crowds be small and the offering paltry, success is measured by fidelity, not fruit. Whether our efforts lead to "life" or "death", we remain "an aroma of Christ to God" (v. 15a). We have succeeded when we preach Jesus truly and biblically.

This will be a difficult pill to swallow only if our fear of man is greater than our fear of God, only if our preference is for their praise rather than his. Some of the worst failures in ministry are found in mega churches, where pragmatism often (though not always) trumps principle. Many who appear small in the eyes of man are giants in the kingdom of God. Both success and failure can be found in churches of every size, whether mega or mini.

There's no escaping the fact that you smell, and so do I. May we strive in the power of God's grace to be a fragrant aroma, pleasing to him (even if putrid to the world).

Sam

The bottom line in triumphalism is the belief that the overt and consummate victories that we will experience only in the age to come are available to us now. I'm not saying that we as Christians shouldn't rejoice in the daily victories we experience by virtue of the enthronement of Christ Jesus and the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit. Yes, we have authority over demonic spirits (cf. Luke 10:17-20). Yes, we have been blessed "with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places" (Eph. 1:3) and have been "raised" up with Christ and are "seated" together "with him" (Eph. 2:6). We who believe "that Jesus is the Son of God" have "overcome" the world (1 John 5:5). And Jesus himself promises great and glorious rewards "to the one who conquers" now (Rev. 2:7, 11, 12; etc.).

So the last thing I want to endorse or encourage is a defeatism that fails to embrace and act upon every good and glorious blessing secured for us by the Lord Jesus Christ. But where many often go astray is in their claim that such truths necessarily entail visible and irreversible victories in the present that result in a life free from persecution, suffering, or demonic assault. It's the notion that since I'm a "child of the King" I have a right to live in financial prosperity and complete physical health, free from that "groaning" under the lingering curse of the fall which Paul appears to indicate will continue until the return of Christ (cf. Romans 8:18-25). I'm talking about that often arrogant and presumptuous triumphalism that belittles those whose "lack of faith" has resulted in a lingering, daily struggle from which Jesus came to deliver them.

What I want to articulate is a perspective on the Christian life that celebrates both our legitimate spiritual triumphs and our on-going daily trials. Nowhere in Scripture is this dynamic tension any more evident than in 2 Corinthians, where Paul can speak of being "afflicted in every way, but not crushed" and of being "perplexed, but not driven to despair" and of being "persecuted, but not forsaken" (2 Cor. 4:8-9). The life he envisions is one in which we "always" carry about in ourselves "the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies" (2 Cor. 4:10).

Perhaps the best way to explain what I have in mind is found in Paul's description of his own ministry in 2 Corinthians 2:14-17. In this meditation, I want us to look at v. 14. There Paul writes: "But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere." Many will undoubtedly say: "But Sam. There it is! God always leads us in triumph! So why are you so down on triumphalism?" A closer look at what Paul means will help answer that question.

The Greek word translated "triumph" or "triumphal procession" (thriambeuo) is used in the NT only here and in Colossians 2:15. Most agree that the term refers to the Roman custom in which a victorious general would lead his conquered captives in triumphal procession, often to their execution. However, a number of other interpretive suggestions have been made.

The KJV renders this word, "causeth us to triumph" (a view embraced by Calvin: "Paul means that he had a share in the triumph that God was celebrating" [33]). However, as several have noted, the accusative following the verb is never the triumphing subject but always the object of the triumph.

C. K. Barrett popularized the view that the image is of a victorious general leading his troops, not his conquered enemies, through the city streets in a triumphal celebration. On this view, Paul is one among many soldiers, all of whom are triumphant conquerors.

Some have rendered this, "God triumphs over us," in the sense that all Christian converts are "conquered" by God at conversion. Paul, then, would be alluding to his encounter with God on the Damascus Road. Others acknowledge the imagery of the Roman triumphal procession but limit its application to the shame endured by those who were captured. Thus, Paul is simply identifying himself with the humiliation of those prisoners who were put on parade.

The most probable interpretation is the one which recognizes an obvious paradox in Paul's use of this metaphor. On the one hand, it is God who leads Paul (and by extension, others who likewise preach the gospel as he does) in triumph. Yet, on the other hand, to be led in triumph by someone else implies captivity and suffering. Paul Barnett provides this helpful explanation:

"There is paradox here, as implied by the metaphor ‘lead [captive] in triumph,' which points at the same moment to the victory of a conquering general and the humiliation of his captives marching to execution. The metaphor is at the same time triumphal and anti-triumphal. It is as God leads his servants as prisoners of war in a victory parade that God spreads the knowledge of Christ everywhere through them. Whereas in such victory processions the prisoners would be dejected and embittered, from this captive's lips comes only thanksgiving to God [v. 14a], his captor. Here is restated the power-in-weakness theme (cf. 1:3-11) that pervades the letter. . . . [Thus], to be sure, his ministry is marked by suffering, but so far from that disqualifying him as a minister, God's leading him in Christ as a suffering servant thereby legitimates his ministry. Christ's humiliation in crucifixion is reproduced in the life of his servant" (150).

Thus Paul is not boasting of his victories but compares himself to conquered captives who are being treated rudely and subjected to humiliation while yet in the glorious service of God. Paul asserts that it is precisely in his weakness and suffering as a captive slave of Christ that God receives all the glory as the One who is triumphantly victorious. Compare this passage with how Paul described his apostolic calling in 1 Corinthians 4:9 - "For I think that God has exhibited us apostles as last of all, like men sentenced to death, because we have become a spectacle to the world, to angels, and to men."

It was also customary for those being led in this procession to disperse incense along the way. However, the reference to "aroma" (vv. 14,16) and "fragrance" (v. 15) probably also points to the OT sacrifice and the odor of the smoke that ascended to heaven, in which God took unique pleasure. Thus Paul portrays his proclamation of the gospel of Christ as a strong fragrance, "unseen but yet powerful, impinging on all who encounter Paul in his sufferings as he preaches Christ wherever he goes. In the victory parade metaphor of this verse, the apostle is God's captive, whom God leads about spreading the knowledge of Christ - incense-like - by means of the proclamation of Christ" (Barnett, 152). Or again, "as God drags Paul around as his slave, the knowledge of Christ emanates from Paul wherever he goes" (Witherington, 366).

I love Paul's imagery: knowing Jesus is like a sweet aroma! There is a spiritual and emotional pleasure in knowing Jesus that can best be compared to the physical delight we experience when our nostrils are filled with the fragrance of the choicest of perfumes or the soothing aroma of our favorite food. Simply put, knowing Jesus smells good, a glorious reality that God makes known through the suffering and struggles of his children.

There is much that is already ours, spiritual triumphs to enjoy for which we give unending thanks. But there is also much that we do not yet possess, blessings that are reserved for the age to come. It's not always easy to discern when we should, by faith, confidently claim our inheritance and when we should, in humility, embrace the weakness of living in a fallen world. May God grant us the wisdom to know the difference.

Sam

Make no mistake: Satan has a plan. Although sinful, he is not stupid. He does not act haphazardly or without a goal in view. He had "designs" for the church at Corinth and he most surely does for your congregation today as well. In Ephesians 6:11 Paul referred to the "schemes" (lit., methodia, from which we derive our word "method") of the Devil. He has cunning and wily stratagems not only for the individual believer but also for the corporate body of Christ. It is essential, therefore, that we be aware of them and fully prepared to respond.

Here in 2 Corinthians 2:5-11 we are made aware of his determination to incite disunity and division. This appears to be an instance in which Satan seeks to exploit the otherwise good intentions of the church. Certain people in Corinth, ostensibly to maintain the purity of the church, were reluctant to forgive and restore the wayward, but now repentant, brother. This harshness would give Satan an opportunity to crush the spirit of the repentant sinner and drive him to despair, most likely resulting in his being forever cut off from the church.

What are some of Satan's other "designs" and "schemes" and activities in both the church and the world? Here are a few.

1.         He works in active opposition to the gospel, blinding the minds of unbelievers to keep them from seeing the truth about Christ (2 Cor. 4:4). There are at least two factors in spiritual blindness: fleshly, sinful, self-resistance to the truth, on the one hand, and satanic/demonic hardening or blinding on the other. Before we ever arrive on the scene with the gospel, Satan is exerting a stupefying influence on the mind of the unbeliever. In other words, we face more than merely intellectual obstacles. We face supernatural opposition. How does Satan do it? There is any number of possibilities. For example:

He distracts them when an opportunity to hear the gospel is at hand: interruptions, day-dreaming, the phone rings, an emergency of some sort, the sudden remembrance of a job or other responsibility that needs immediate attention, the intrusion of a friend (cf. Acts 13:7b-8), etc.

He stirs up hostility and suspicion in the person's mind concerning the competency and integrity of the person presenting the gospel. The unbeliever suddenly imputes sinister motives to the Christian: "He's in it for the money," or "She only wants to gain control over me," or "He's just looking for another notch on his Bible so he can boast to others of one more convert," etc. Sometimes the unbeliever will excuse his/her unbelief by questioning the intellectual and academic credentials of the believer ("he/she is so uneducated; what does he/she know anyway").

Satan also stirs up the non-Christian to distort what is being said into something the speaker never intended (cf. John 2:19-21; 6:48-52; 7:33-36; 8:51-53). He prompts them to draw false conclusions or implications from the gospel that make it seem absurd. He inclines their minds to link the believer with people who've disgraced Christianity in the past, giving him an excuse to reject what is being said (i.e., guilt by association). "All you Christians are just like those hucksters on TV! You're in it for the gold and the glory!"

He puts in their minds all sorts of questions and convinces them that if they can't get completely satisfying answers, Christianity can't be true. Right in the middle of witnessing to someone, he/she suddenly blurts out questions like: "What about evil?" "What about all the hypocrites in the church?" "What about the heathen in Africa?" "Why is there only one way? It seems egotistical." "Why are there so many denominations?"

Just as the gospel is beginning to make sense, Satan stirs up pride or produces feelings of independence and self-sufficiency: "I don't need a religious crutch. I'm my own man!" Before serious consideration is given, Satan snatches the seed of the gospel (Mt. 13:4,18-19) from their mind: on the way home from church the car breaks down, or the conversation turns to politics or sports, or a sexy billboard diverts attention, or something on the radio captivates his mind.

Satan might suddenly prompt him/her to place a higher value on things he/she might lose if one were to become a Christian: friends, fame, money, fleshly pleasures, approval of others. Satan stirs up feelings of hopelessness: "Not even this will work. There's no hope. My life is a lost cause. Not even Jesus can help."

Satan will do all he can to oppose and disrupt missionary endeavors (1 Thess. 2:18), by disrupting travel plans, influencing the minds of state officials to delay or deny the issuing of visas, inflicting illness, provoking military conflict, etc.

2.         He is often (but not always) the source of sickness (cf. Acts 10:38; Mt. 8:16; Mark 9:17-18; Luke 13:10-17).

3.         He can inflict death as well as provoke the paralyzing fear of it (Heb. 2:14; see Job 1:13-19; John 10:10).

4.         He plants sinful plans and purposes in the minds of men (Acts 5:3; John 13:2; Mt. 16:21-23). It is instructive to observe that in the case of Acts 5 "it is not through some act of terrible depravity, but through an act of religious devotion, that Satan brings about the downfall of Ananias and Sapphira. . . . It is sobering to think that the very good that God's people attempt to do can be their undoing" (Sydney Page, 132).

5.         On occasion, Satan will himself indwell a person (John 13:27). By speaking of Satan as "entering" Judas, John uses language reminiscent of demonization (cf. Lk. 8:30-33). It is important to note, however, that Judas's motive was also greed and nowhere is he exonerated from his action simply because he was indwelt by the devil.

6.         He sets a snare or trap for people, perhaps with a view to exploiting and intensifying their sinful inclinations. According to 1 Timothy 3:6-7, Satan is able to exploit any blemish on the reputation of a Christian leader. In 2 Timothy 2:25-26, Paul appears to speak of believers who have been led astray through false teaching. Satan thus strives to hold people captive to do his will by deceiving them to believe what is false and misleading. If nothing else, this text emphasizes how crucial sound doctrine is.

7.         He infiltrates the church and plants within it his own people (Mt. 13:37-39).

8.         He tests or tries Christians, the malicious "sifting" "like wheat" of Peter's faith being an excellent example (Luke 22:31). Clearly, Satan is unable to act outside the parameters established by the will of God but must first ask permission. He wanted to destroy Peter by inciting him to deny Jesus. But God's intent in permitting Satan to do it was altogether different. God's purposes with Peter were to instruct him, humble him, perhaps discipline him, and certainly to use him as an example to others of both human arrogance and the possibility of forgiveness and restoration. This points to the fact that often we cannot easily say "Satan did it" or "God did it". In cases such as this, both are true (with the understanding that God's will is sovereign, supreme, and overriding), but their respective goals are clearly opposite. Sydney Page's comments concerning this incident are important:

"Luke 22:31-32 reveals that Satan can subject the loyalty of the followers of Jesus to severe tests that are designed to produce failure. So intense are the pressures to which Satan is able to subject believers that the faith of even the most courageous may be found wanting. Satan is, however, limited in what he can do by what God permits and by the intercession of Jesus on behalf of his own [cf. Rom. 8:34; Heb. 7:25; 1 John 2:1]. Furthermore, those who temporarily falter can be restored and, like Peter, can even resume positions of leadership. It is implied that Satan cannot gain ultimate victory over those for whom Jesus intercedes" (124).

9.         He incites persecution, imprisonment, and the political oppression of believers (1 Pt. 5:8-9; Rev. 2:10).

10.       He is the accuser of the Christian (Rev. 12:10).

11.       He performs signs and wonders to deceive the nations (Exodus; 2 Thess. 2:9-11).

12.       He seeks to silence the witness of the church (Rev. 12:10-12).

13.       He promotes false doctrine (1 Tim. 4:1-3; Rev. 2:24; 2 Cor. 11:1ff.).

14.       He can manipulate the weather (but not by virtue of his own inherent power; it is only to the degree that God permits, as is clear from Job 1:18-19; cf. Mk. 4:37-39).

15.       He influences the thoughts and actions of unbelievers (Eph. 2:1-2). It is a stunning thought, similar to that in 1 John 5:18, that Satan is at work in and energizes the disobedience of all unbelievers. This does not mean that all non-Christians are demonized, but it does imply that their unbelief and unrighteous behavior are stimulated and sustained by the enemy. Yet, they remain morally culpable for their actions.

16.       He attacks married believers in regard to their sexual relationship (1 Cor. 7:5). Paul approves of the decision by married couples to refrain from sexual relations to devote themselves to prayer, but only for a season. To abstain entirely for a prolonged period of time exposes oneself to unnecessary temptation (i.e., lust and the satisfaction of one's sexual desires outside the bonds of marriage). Again, we see here an example of how the enemy takes an otherwise godly intention and exploits it for his own nefarious purposes.

17.       He exploits our sinful decisions, most likely by intensifying the course of action we have already chosen (Eph. 4:26-27). Note that Satan is not credited with or blamed for creating the anger in the first place. We are responsible for it. Satan's response is to use this and other such sins to gain access to our lives and to expand and intensify our chosen course of behavior.

18.       He confronts us with various temptations (1 Chron. 21:1; Mt. 6:13; 1 Thess. 3:5).

Yes, Satan has "designs" and "schemes" all of which, in one way or another, are intended to undermine our enjoyment of all that God is for us in Jesus. May God grant us both the wisdom to discern his stratagems and the strength and resolve to resist him at all times.

Sam

"Now if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but in some measure - not to put it too severely - to all of you. For such a one, this punishment by the majority is enough, so you should rather turn to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I beg you to reaffirm your love for him. For this is why I wrote, that I might test you and know whether you are obedient in everything. Anyone whom you forgive, I also forgive. What I have forgiven, if I have forgiven anything, has been for your sake in the presence of Christ, so that we would not be outwitted by Satan; for we are not ignorant of his designs" (2 Cor. 2:5-11).

There is considerable debate among commentators as to the identity of this individual. The older commentaries (especially Philip Hughes) insist that this is the incestuous man of 1 Corinthians 5. More recent commentators argue that this is the person who opposed Paul and worked to undermine his apostolic authority. This man "may have been connected with the sexual aberrations in Corinth that involved a number of people and that appear to have necessitated Paul's recent unscheduled visit (12:21-13:2). It is quite possible that the man also supported the practice of ongoing attendance at temples in the city (6:14-7:1), despite Paul's warnings in the First Letter (1 Cor. 10:14-22). . . . Perhaps this man resisted Paul's admonitions to the Corinthians during his second visit and was himself the major reason that visit was so painful for Paul" (Barnett, 124).

In any case, the church had imposed discipline upon him, most likely by prohibiting his presence at the Lord's Table and withdrawing routine fellowship. The good news is that it worked! "For such a one," says Paul, "this punishment by the majority is enough." He had evidently repented and Paul now calls for a reaffirmation of love for him and his restoration into the life of the church.

Paul is concerned lest immoderate severity destroy this man. Thus he encourages the Corinthians "to forgive and comfort him, or he may be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow." The tendency of human nature is to hold the offender at arm's length, to forgive but not forget, to say "I receive you back" but to treat the person like a leper. Philip Hughes reminds us that "discipline which is so inflexible as to leave no place for repentance and reconciliation has ceased to be truly Christian; for it is no less a scandal to cut off the penitent sinner from all hope of re-entry into the comfort and security of the fellowship of the redeemed community than it is to permit flagrant wickedness to continue unpunished in the Body of Christ" (66-67).

Perhaps the best way to approach this topic, if only briefly, is to ask and answer a series of five questions.

First, why is church discipline so neglected, if not ignored altogether, in our day? Among the many reasons that could be cited, here are a few. Perhaps the principal cause is a pervasive ignorance of biblical teaching on the subject (many believe that it is infrequently mentioned in Scripture and therefore unimportant; others are ignorant of the purpose of discipline and see it only as destroying the person).

Another factor is calloused, insensitivity toward sin; a failure to take seriously the offense of sin and a tendency toward unsanctified mercy in our treatment of the unrepentant. Undoubtedly the spirit of individualism also plays a role. We have lost the sense of community and mutual responsibility one for another. How often has it been said, as a way of justifying our passivity toward sin, "Well, it's not really any of my business, is it?" Discipline is costly because my brother's/sister's business now becomes mine.

A misapplication of our Lord's words in Matthew 7:1 ("Judge not, that you be not judged") has certainly put hesitancy in the hearts of many in regard to dealing with sin in the local church. The fear of rejection also comes into play (i.e., the fear of being told by the offending party: "Mind your own business. You have no authority to tell me what I can and can't do").

I strongly suspect that fear of legal reprisal in the form of lawsuits has paralyzed many. Many people (even church leaders) simply dislike confrontation. Talking directly about personal sin with an offender is difficult; it makes us feel uneasy and uncomfortable; so why rock the boat? Many think that if we simply ignore the problem, in time it will go away. "Time heals all," or so they contend.

I've known instances where discipline stalled from fear of driving the person away, especially if the offender is a major financial contributor to the church! Related to this is the fear of dividing and ultimately even splitting the church over whether and how and to what extent discipline should be applied (invariably many think the discipline was too severe, while others are convinced it was too lenient).

Many struggle with a false concept of discipline because of observed abuses. In their minds discipline is associated with heresy hunts, intolerance, oppression, harshness, mean-spiritedness, self-righteousness, legalism, etc. Related to this is the fear of being labeled a cult if we insist on too strict a code of conduct for our members.

Others resist taking disciplinary steps because it entails change. In other words, the power of tradition is hard to overcome: "We've never done it before and we've done o.k. Why risk messing things up now?"

So, secondly, why is discipline necessary? To be brief, there are several reasons: (1) to maintain (as far as possible) the purity of the church (1 Cor. 3:17; Eph. 5:25-27); (2) because Scripture requires it (Mt. 18:15-20; 1 Cor. 5; etc.); (3) in order to maintain a proper witness to the world; the church corporately, as with the elder individually, is to have a good reputation with "outsiders" (1 Tim. 3:7); (4) to facilitate growth and to preserve unity in the body (Eph. 4:1-16); (5) to expose unbelievers (1 John 2:19); (6) to restore the erring brother/sister to obedience and fellowship (1 Cor. 5:5; 2 Cor. 2:6,7,10; Gal. 6:1; 2 Thess. 3:14-15); (7) to deter others (1 Tim. 5:20); (8) to avert corporate discipline (Rev. 2:14-25); (9) because sin is rarely if ever an individual issue: it almost always has corporate ramifications (2 Cor. 2:5); the whole of the body (or at least a large segment of it) is adversely affected by the misdeeds of one member; and (10) evidently Paul believed that the willingness to embrace the task of discipline was a mark of maturity in a church's corporate life (2 Cor. 2:9).

Third, in what instances or for what sins should it be exercised? Unrepentant moral evil, as in the case of the incestuous man of 1 Corinthians 5, would certainly qualify. Divisiveness and serious doctrinal error are also mentioned in the NT (Rom. 16:17-18; Titus 3:9-10). Paul speaks of more general, unspecified transgressions in Galatians 6:1 as calling for disciplinary intervention (see also 2 Thess. 3:6-15).

Fourth, how is discipline to be done? What are the procedural steps to be pursued? Matthew 18:15-17 recommends the following steps:

First, private rebuke (Mt. 18:15) - Do it gently, in love, out of compassion, seeking to encourage; the purpose for private rebuke is to resolve the problem without fueling unnecessary gossip.

Second, if private rebuke is unsuccessful, plural rebuke (Mt. 18:16; see also Deut. 17:6; 19:15; Num. 35:30) - Who are these "others"? Church leaders? People who know the person? People who know of the sin?

Third, if plural rebuke is unsuccessful, public rebuke (Mt. 18:17)

Fourth, if public rebuke is unsuccessful, "excommunication" (Mt. 18:17; 1 Cor. 5:11; Titus 3:10; possibly 2 Thess. 3:14)

Fifth, if repentance occurs, restoration to fellowship and reaffirmation of love (2 Cor. 2:6-8; 2 Thess. 3:14-15; Gal. 6:1)

Sixth, Mt. 18:18-20 affirms that whatever decision is made in the matter, whether the offending person is "bound" or "loosed", reflects the will of God in heaven. When a church is united in its application of discipline it can rest confidently in God's promise that he will provide wisdom and guidance for making the correct decision. Thus, the verdict of heaven, so to speak, is consonant with that of the church, before which the matter was adjudicated.

Fifth, by whom is discipline to be administered? Certainly the Elders of the church are to take the initiative and provide general oversight for the process (cf. Acts 20:28ff.; 1 Thess. 5:14; Heb. 13:17). But the congregation as a whole must also be involved (2 Cor. 2:6; this latter text raises the question of whether there may have been a minority in Corinth who dissented from the action taken).

In sum, the motivation for discipline is love (for the errant believer) and the goal of discipline is restoration. If Christ himself is so passionately committed to the purity of the church that he would sacrifice his life on her behalf, in order to present her "to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing" (Eph. 5:27), we can hardly afford to turn a blind eye to repeated and unrepentant sin in our midst. May God grant us the grace and wisdom so essential for this delicate and crucial task.

Sam

On a recent broadcast at DesiringGod.org, John Piper briefly addressed the issue of tattoos and body piercing among Christians. I especially appreciated the spirit in which John took up this subject. He did not come down in a heavy-handed or judgmental fashion, insisting in some legalistic way that such actions are altogether and always a sin. He mentioned the prohibition on tattoos in Leviticus 19:28 and suggested that although there were probably unique historical and religious circumstances in the ancient near east that evoked this prohibition, we should still seek to learn from it. Whereas not everything in the Levitical code is binding on the believer today, we still must ask if there is some underlying principle in the OT prohibition that might find application to us in the present day.

But Piper mentioned two additional factors to take into consideration, to which I would like to add a third. First, he asked the all-important question that every Christian contemplating getting a tattoo or body piercing should ask: "Will this exalt the Lord Jesus Christ? Is this going to draw attention to him or to me? Will his beauty and splendor and all-sufficiency be highlighted in this action? Will the gospel itself be adorned or obscured in what I'm doing?"

Second, John also said that we should carefully monitor our motives for getting a tattoo or body piercing. In particular, he suggested that often times (not always!) people get tattoos in an effort to establish for themselves an identity that they have failed to find in Christ alone. In other words, each person needs to ask: "To what extent does this tattoo or body piercing reflect my failure to find full satisfaction in Christ alone? To what extent is this an attempt to ‘be' or ‘become' something that until know I've failed to find in who I am in Christ and because of what he has accomplished in grace on my behalf?"

It may well be that the person contemplating getting a tattoo feels fully established in Christ and is keenly aware of who they are in him, and thus the issue of identity simply does not factor into one's motivation. But it is an important matter to keep in mind.

To these excellent observations, I'd like to add a third. I think a Christian needs to ask himself/herself whether or not the tattoo or body piercing expresses respect for the human body as the temple of the living God. Christians are indwelt by the Holy Spirit. He abides in us, not in buildings or tabernacles or anything else as the unique expression of his saving and sanctifying presence. The apostle Paul makes this clear on a number of occasions (see especially 1 Cor. 3:16-17; 6:19-20; 2 Cor. 6:16-18; Eph. 2:21-22). I think particularly of 1 Cor. 6:19-20 where Christians are exhorted to "glorify God in your body" (v. 20). I'm not saying that people with tattoos and body piercings can't glorify God in their bodies. I'm not the judge of that. I'm simply asking Christians to think and pray about it before they engage in this activity.

Needless to say (or perhaps it does need to be said), this text in 1 Corinthians 6 would apply to a number of issues other than tattoos and body piercing. I suspect that many reading this article are guilty of gluttony and have become excessively obese. This is only one example of what undoubtedly are any number of activities in which we may fail to glorify God in our bodies. We must be careful, therefore, lest we single out tattoos and body piercing and ignore the many ways in which we might potentially fail to glorify the Lord in how we treat our physical frame.

The fact is, the Bible is not as explicit and unyielding on this issue as some might like. If there were a specific and undeniable commandment in the NT that addressed the point, we probably wouldn't be having this conversation. So I encourage everyone to be gracious and gentle at the same time we give full consideration to the principles set forth in God's Word. For those who've already been tattooed, perhaps the question should now be to what extent and in what ways, if any, can I turn this for the good of the gospel and the glory of God. I'm certainly not prepared (or qualified) to answer that question, but it is one that needs to be addressed.

May God grant us wisdom and patience with one another as we seek to understand how best to glorify God in our bodies.

Sam

In an Associated Press release today, Friday, August 24, 2007, astronomers are reporting the discovery of what is being called a "massive blank spot in the universe." What's got them scratching their heads is "what's just not there. The cosmic blank spot has no stray stars, no galaxies, no sucking black holes, not even mysterious dark matter."

We're not talking here about a small patch of sky but 1 billion light years across of "nothing". According to the article, "that's an expanse of nearly 6 billion trillion miles of emptiness." "It looks like something to be taken seriously," said Brent Tully, a University of Hawaii astronomer. Tully said "astronomers may eventually find a few cosmic structures in the void, but it would still be nearly empty."

Tully goes on to explain that "holes in the universe probably occur when the gravity from areas with bigger mass pull matter from less dense areas." Retired NASA astronomer Steve Maran said of the discovery: "This is incredibly important for something where there is nothing to it."

Well, I've got some even greater and more exhilarating news for these astronomers and scientists. They're wrong! God's there! This "place in space" may lack for stars and black holes and galaxies and all other forms of matter but the only thing that ultimately matters is wholly and powerfully and personally present in all his glory: God! He not only fills the universe he made, but transcends it. He is everywhere in it, through it, and beyond it. The most sophisticated scientific tools may not detect his presence, but he's there. Simply put: space is God!

"Can a man hide himself in secret places so that I cannot see him? declares the Lord. Do I not fill heaven and earth? declares the Lord" (Jer. 23:24).

I'm no astronomer, but I'd like to bring a word of correction to these learned men. There's no such thing as a "void" or "blank spot" or an "empty" place in space. Our great and glorious Triune God, Father, Son, and Spirit, fills the universe. Though bereft of meteors and moons and matter, our majestic and all-powerful God is there, and everywhere!

"How terrible should the thoughts of this attribute be to sinners," wrote Stephen Charnock. "How foolish is it to imagine any hiding-place from the incomprehensible God, who fills and contains all things, and is present in every point of the world. When men have shut the door, and made all darkness within, to meditate or commit a crime, they cannot in the most intricate recesses be sheltered from the presence of God. If they could separate themselves from their own shadows, they could not avoid his company, or be obscured from his sight. . . . Hypocrites cannot disguise their sentiments from him; he is in the most secret nook of their hearts. No thought is hid, no lust is secret, but the eye of God beholds this, and that, and the other. He is present with our heart when we imagine, with our hands when we act. We may exclude the sun from peeping into our solitudes, but not the eyes of God from beholding our actions" (174).

Charles Spurgeon also reminds us that "this (truth) makes it dreadful work to sin; for we offend the Almighty to His face, and commit acts of treason at the very foot of His throne. Go from Him, or flee from Him we cannot; neither by patient travel nor by hasty flight can we withdraw from the all-surrounding Deity. His mind is in our mind; Himself within ourselves. His spirit is over our spirit; our presence is ever in His presence" (3:260).

Astronomers of the world, by all means scratch your heads in bewilderment and marvel at the greatness of your discovery. Applaud the achievements of science and write your scholarly accounts. But before, while, and after you do, fall prostrate before the God who fills the universe and worship, for "the heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaims his handiwork" (Ps. 19:1).

I mention this book not only to encourage you to read it but also because of the excellent chapter by Mark Dever concerning how baptism is practiced in the context of the local church. One thing you can be assured of, Mark is never boring! His insights are penetrating and, most of the time, persuasive. When one hears that we evangelicals lack a credible ecclesiology, I immediately point to Mark Dever and his voluminous writings on the subject. No one is more serious about the centrality of the local church in God's kingdom purposes than is Mark. I highly recommend all his books on the subject. No, you won't agree with him on every point, but you will be challenged, instructed, and encouraged in a way that I find rare in the evangelical world today.

One of the issues addressed in this chapter concerns who should be granted access to the Lord's Table, a subject that has been circulating the evangelical blogosphere of late. I wrote a few days ago of my concern that some, such as Mark, would close the Table to those Christians who had not been baptized as believers but had only experienced "evangelical infant baptism" (the latter are Mark's words). Mark believes that the failure to obey Christ's call to be baptized "calls into question the claim of being Christ's follower (since Christ commanded baptism in Matt 28:19-20). Even if the disobedience is unintentional (as in the case of an evangelical infant baptism), it is still sin and cannot be countenanced by the church" (340).

My purpose here isn't to address whether or not we should regard conscientious paedo-baptists as "disobedient" and guilty of "sin" for not being baptized following faith in Christ. I happen to agree with those who argue that paedo-baptists are "wrong" about baptism, but not disobedient. But that's a subject for another time, another article.

I here only want to mention a comment in a footnote in Mark's chapter (341, n. 16). One response to my article (at the blog of Adrian Warnock) was that whereas Mark opposes the unbaptized "coming regularly to the Lord's table" (341; emphasis mine), he does leave open the possibility of what he calls "occasional communion" (emphasis mine) by those who have not been baptized as believers.

Is this "concession" to "occasional communion" a significant one? Here is what I wrote in my response to the person who brought this to my attention at Warnock's blog. Notwithstanding this brief reference in the chapter of this book, both Mark and Al Mohler were quite clear in their public comments at the T4G forum that a paedo-baptist would not be permitted to participate in the Lord's Table at their churches. You rightly point out that the footnote in Mark's article appears to suggest that he might allow "occasional" participation by a paedo-baptist.

But this creates problems of its own. What constitutes "occasional"? Once? If once, then why not twice? If twice, then why not three times? Who draws the line and on what basis? It quickly becomes rather arbitrary, does it not?

It seems to me that if a paedo-baptist is EVER disqualified from the table (simply for being a paedo-baptist), he/she is ALWAYS disqualified from the table. Whatever it is that makes their subsequent and repeated presence at the Table unbiblical and wrong would make their initial and even "occasional" presence unbiblical and wrong.

What do you propose be said to a paedo-baptist who has been granted access to the table once or twice and then comes a third time? "I'm sorry, sir/madam, but although we didn't regard your convictions as worthy of disqualification before, now we do. You weren't in sin by partaking of the elements before, but you are now. Furthermore, although WE weren't in sin by allowing you to partake before (on ‘occasion'), we would be in sin if we let it continue." Is this really what we glean from the NT concerning celebration of the Table?

So, my point is simply that if a paedo-baptist is welcomed by God to the Table once, he/she is welcomed by God at all times (assuming, again, that he/she is not under discipline). Otherwise you put the credo-baptist in the rather awkward (and what seems to me unbiblical) position of compromising on his/her convictions out of compassion or friendship, but only once or twice, i.e., only "occasionally", and then expecting them to do what they really believe is right and closing the table to any further participation by paedo-baptist believers.

The bottom line is this. If you believe the Bible forbids that a paedo-baptist should be granted access to the Table, then abide by your convictions. Aim for consistency. Don't try to make everyone feel better by saying, "Well, for the sake of ‘fellowship' and in order to avoid giving offence to those we regard as ‘friends,' it's o.k. this one time. And maybe we'll stretch it to twice, but after that we've got to stand firm on what we believe is biblical."

Even though I end up differing with Mark on this point, I have probably learned more from him on the nature of local church life than any other author. And I look forward to learning even more as this dialogue continues. Comments anyone?

Sam

Recently (August 16, 2007), Mark Dever posted on this issue at the 9Marks blog (http://www.blog.9marks.org/). My primary concern is less with the question of the relationship between baptism and church membership (as important as that is) and more with a related topic that emerges in the course of discussion.

Let me take you back to the Together for the Gospel conference that was held in late April, 2006. It was hosted by Mark Dever, Al Mohler, Ligon Duncan, and C. J. Mahaney, who also invited three others to deliver plenary messages: John Piper, R. C. Sproul, and John MacArthur. Registration for next year's conference is now open and I strongly urge you to attend. I will certainly be present.

After the conference was officially over, on Friday afternoon, there was a small gathering of some 75 people in one of the adjoining rooms at the Galt House Hotel. The purpose of this meeting was to address an issue that was raised last year by John Piper, pastor of Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

To be brief, John has come to the conviction that the terms on which one enters the membership of the local church should be, generally speaking, as close as possible to the terms on which one enters the membership of the universal church. In other words, he grew increasingly unsettled by the fact that conscientious, born-again, Christ-loving, Bible-believing Christians who were only baptized as infants could not join his local church. It has been the policy of Bethlehem Baptist Church, a member of the Baptist General Conference, that in order to become a functioning member one must, among other things, be baptized as a believer. On this scenario, Ligon Duncan and R. C. Sproul, being Presbyterians, could attend but would not be permitted to join Bethlehem Baptist Church.

Piper's desire was to make it possible for individuals who had been baptized as infants, and believed it would be a violation of their conscience to be baptized as adults, to join his church. They would not, however, be permitted to hold a leadership position as an Elder in the local body. As of today, the issue at Bethlehem has been temporarily put on hold, pending further discussion and prayer.

Now, back to Louisville. Mark Dever, Al Mohler, Ligon Duncan, and John Piper each began with a brief statement concerning their view on this proposed policy. Both Dever and Mohler, who are Southern Baptists, oppose it, while Piper and Duncan support it. But my primary concern is not with this policy per se, but with what happened in the course of discussion.

Let me be clear on one thing. I am a credo-baptist, not a paedo-baptist. That is to say, I believe that only those who believe in Jesus Christ should receive the ordinance of water baptism. I also believe that the proper mode of baptism is by immersion. Ligon Duncan, on the other hand, is a Presbyterian paedo-baptist. Because of this, both Mark Dever and Al Mohler made it clear that if Duncan were in attendance at either of their churches they would not permit him to partake of the elements of the Lord's Supper.

Let me repeat that. Because of Duncan's paedo-baptist convictions, both Dever and Mohler would prohibit his participation in the Eucharist. They would deny to him partnership in the table of our Lord. They would withhold the bread and the cup from him because of his disagreement with them on who are the proper recipients of Christian baptism.

As best I can tell (and I'm open to correction on this point), since Jesus clearly commanded (believer's) baptism, a paedo-baptist (says Dever in his recent blog post) is guilty of "disobedience" and "unrepentant sin" (however unintentional it may be) and is thus disqualified from participating in the Lord's Table.

Duncan believes that when an adult comes to faith in Christ he/she should be baptized in water (he prefers by effusion, but would acknowledge the validity of immersion). But he also believes that the infants of Christian parents should be brought to the baptismal font. I disagree with him on this latter point, but I'm disturbed that anyone would deny him access to the Lord's Table on such grounds.

I have tremendous respect for both Mark Dever (whom I count as a good, personal friend) and Al Mohler (although I don't know Dr. Mohler personally). Truly I do. They are both an incalculable blessing to the body of Christ. I also agree with them concerning the proper subjects of Christian baptism. But I find it remarkable that they would turn away Ligon Duncan from that ordinance of the church that above all else signifies and expresses the unity of the brethren in the body of Christ.

This may be offensive to some, but the claim to be "Together for the Gospel" rings a bit hollow to me when some would decline to fellowship with others around the Lord's Table because of their disagreement on the proper recipients of baptism.

Let's be sure we understand what the Eucharist is designed to communicate. Aside from differences of opinion concerning the nature of Christ's "presence" (whether physical, spiritual, or merely symbolic), there can be no mistake that this ordinance signifies, embodies, and expresses the foundational essence of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Before us are the elements of bread and wine that unmistakably represent the body and blood of Jesus Christ given on behalf of sinners like Ligon Duncan, John Piper, Al Mohler, Mark Dever, and myself.

Jesus himself made it clear that the cup represented or pointed to or in some sense embodied "the forgiveness of sins" that would come from the saving efficacy of his atoning death (Matthew 26:28). In 1 Corinthians 11:26 Paul echoed this truth by telling us that every time we celebrate the Lord's Table we "proclaim the Lord's death until he comes." In other words, the Eucharist is a dramatic, visible, vocal enactment of the gospel itself. It stirs our hearts to meditate on Christ's redemptive work and is designed to stimulate the mind to reflect on the significance of all that he achieved on behalf of those for whom he died.

My question, then, is this: How can we claim to be "together" or "united" for the sake of the gospel and turn away a brother or sister from the very expression and proclamation of that gospel that is so central to the life and testimony of the church? What does this prohibition say to the world around us? What must they think of our professed "togetherness" or "unity" when the elements of the Eucharist would be withheld from a brother such as Ligon Duncan?

In effect, this is the message that is sent: "Ligon, we agree with you on the nature of the gospel. We agree with you that we must faithfully proclaim and preach the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ and salvation by grace alone through faith alone in what he has accomplished on Calvary. But you cannot share with us the table of the Lord or the elements that represent and proclaim that gospel."

I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound to me like "together" or "united" or any such thing for the sake of the gospel. It sounds rather like a narrow sectarianism that fails to consider the unity of the one body as represented by the one bread (1 Corinthians 10:17). It sounds like the colossal loss of an excellent opportunity to deepen and strengthen Christian fellowship and bear witness to a lost and dying world both of the gospel itself and our unity that is grounded in it.

For some brethren to look at Ligon Duncan (or others in his camp) and say, "We believe the same gospel, we preach the same gospel, but we refuse to express that belief and proclaim that gospel with you by means of the ordinance that Jesus commissioned as an expression of our unity and our confident hope in its capacity to save," calls into serious question the significance of the word "together".

I hope none will conclude from this that I think the conference was a failure or was not beneficial to those in attendance. As I said, I plan on attending again in 2008. I hope none will think that Al Mohler and Mark Dever do not love their Christian brother, Ligon Duncan. Indeed, they would no doubt contend that it is precisely because of their love for him (among other reasons) that they feel compelled to hold firmly to their position. True love is never served by compromising the truth. There is no greater expression of love for another than the willingness to make painful and unpopular decisions for the sake of bringing an errant brother into the light.

One more thing should be noted. In his recent post, Dever indicated that he planned on having an Anglican and a Presbyterian preach from his pulpit in the near future. In the comment section of his blog, one person said: "The implication . . . is that there are people whom you are happy to have in your pulpit but not at the Lord's Table. That seems a little odd." Yes, it does.

In a similar vein, another comment asked: "why would you let someone in unrepentant sin be teaching the flock at Capitol Hill?"

Finally, more directly to the point of this article, the question was asked: "If your Anglican . . . friend were preaching in your pulpit on a Sunday where the Lord's Table was observed, would you exclude him from participating?" The answer, clearly, is that Dever would indeed exclude him from participating.

In fact, let's suppose, just for the sake of argument, that the Lord's Table is celebrated every Sunday at Capitol Hill Baptist Church (although I don't think it is). This would mean that Dever's Anglican or Presbyterian friend might conceivably preach a profoundly biblical message on the gospel of the dying and rising Christ and salvation through him alone, only to be told (if not in words then surely by the actions then taken) that he must sit to the side and refrain from receiving the elements that symbolize and embody the very dying and rising Christ whom he only moments before so faithfully and biblically proclaimed.

In this not unlikely scenario, the visiting paedo-baptist might even reinforce the truth of the gospel message by pointing to the elements on the table before him, articulating with passion and humility how the sacrifice of Christ's body and blood, here symbolized by the bread and wine, have secured for all Christians forgiveness of sins and eternal life. He would then, I suppose, be led away from the elements and told that although he is no less trusting in what they represent than are his credo-baptist brothers and sisters, he cannot partake with them in the supper.

Does anyone see anything askew in this picture? I'd love to hear your comments.

Sam

For those of you not familiar with this volume, it is one of 19 in the Counterpoint Series published by Zondervan. The book was released in 1996 and continues to be perhaps the most popular and helpful volume in addressing this issue now available. What makes it so unique, as is typical of the Counterpoint Series format, is that four distinctly different perspectives are represented: Richard Gaffin defends the Cessationist View, Robert Saucy defends the Open but Cautious View, Douglas Oss articulates the Pentecostal/Charismatic View, and yours truly argues for the Third Wave View. Each of us also responds to the other three, all of which is capped off by a concluding statement from each author.

One of the unique features that went into the production of this book was the so-called Authors Conference that took place just prior to the annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in Philadelphia in November, 1995. The four authors, together with editor Wayne Grudem, spent two days (upwards of 18 hours total) in a hotel suite, hashing out the issues and addressing virtually every nuance of this theological debate. It was one of the most energetic and enlightening experiences in which I've ever been involved.

All this to say that if you have not yet obtained this book and worked through it, I strongly encourage you to do so. It is available directly from Zondervan, in bookstores everywhere, and also on my website, www.samstorms.com.

When I attended Dallas Theological Seminary in the 1970's, the required text in defense of the reliability of the New Testament was F. F. Bruce's widely acclaimed The New Testament Documents: Are They Reliable? (Eerdmans, 1960). In 1987, Craig Blomberg published his The Historical Reliability of the Gospels (InterVarsity Press), a more detailed treatment of the same issues. For some, Bruce was too brief, and for others, Blomberg was too long. That's what makes this new book by Mark Roberts just right: it is mid-level, written in a popular style, yet substantive enough to satisfy the curiosity and questioning of most inquiring minds.

Roberts, a graduate of Harvard University, is senior pastor of Irvine Presbyterian Church in California, but is best known for his blog (http://www.markdroberts.com/) where the material for this book was first developed.

One of the more helpful features of this volume is found in the opening chapter where Roberts gives a very personal account of his own theological journey as a student at Harvard, studying under the brilliant but less than conservative NT scholar, George MacRae. Notwithstanding the best that modern critical scholarship had to offer, Roberts eventually emerged with a healthy confidence in the reliability of the four gospel accounts of Jesus of Nazareth. In what follows I want to provide a brief summation of the more important arguments that Roberts makes.

In chapter one he devotes his attention to the relationship between the original compositions and the manuscripts that we now possess. As for the antiquity of our gospel manuscripts, he responds to the oft-heard argument that too much time had elapsed between the writing of the original gospel accounts and the documents on which our English Bibles are based. He points out that "the oldest extant manuscripts of Tacitus and Suetonius come from the ninth century. Those of Josephus date back only to the eleventh century. We're talking about a time gap of 800 to 1,000 years, yet historians accept the manuscripts as basically reliable representations of what was originally written" (30). Yet the gap between our earliest manuscript of John's gospel and the original composition itself is only two generations. "The more complete manuscripts are about a century later than the original writings, with extant copies of the whole New Testament more than two centuries later than the time of composition" (30). In other words, "if someone were to claim that we can't have confidence in the original content of the Gospels because the existing manuscripts are too far removed from the autographs, then that person would also have to cast doubt upon our knowledge of almost all ancient history and literature" (30-31).

He also points out that the number of Gospel manuscripts in existence (more than 5,700) is about twenty times larger than the average number of extant manuscripts of comparable writings. In response to those, such as Bart Ehrman, who make much of the quantity and quality of textual variants, the vast percentage of them are nothing more than spelling errors or differences in word order that have no affect on the integrity of the text. In fact, only about 1% of the textual variants make any substantive difference and none have any bearing on theologically important matters.

In chapter three Roberts turns his attention to the question of whether the evangelists knew Jesus personally. We need to remember that the four gospels are anonymous and that it wasn't until the second century that scribes began to ascribe these documents to the names of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. There is no evidence that Mark or Luke knew Jesus personally, although clearly Matthew and John did. Roberts believes a good case can be made from internal evidence and tradition that Mark and Luke wrote the gospels with which their names are associated and argues persuasively that "Matthew and John may not have been the ones who finally put pen to papyrus, but they, their memory, and their authority stand behind the Gospels that bear their names" (49).

Chapters four and five are devoted to a discussion of the dates when the gospels were most likely written and the sources that were probably employed by their authors. The more important issue of how accurately the early church passed down the oral tradition about Jesus is taken up in chapter six. Here we find Roberts at his best, as he explains in layman's terms how a culture in which few people were literate faithfully preserved the story of Jesus. His conclusion is worth citing in full. The early followers of Jesus, says Roberts,

"had both the ability and the motivation to pass on oral traditions with accuracy. The combination of context, people, content, community, and process helped them to faithfully recount what Jesus did and said. A study of the Gospels shows that the early Christians did this very thing with considerable success. Thus the first-century dating of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, combined with their use of earlier oral traditions, combined with early Christian faithfulness in passing on these oral traditions, add up to a convincing rationale for trusting the Gospels. What we find in these books accurately represents what Jesus himself actually did and said" (81).

One of the more helpful issues addressed by Roberts is the question of what a "gospel" was in a first-century context. Contrary to the expectations of many modern believers, an ancient "gospel" was neither a novel, a book of history, nor even a "biography" in the sense in which that word is used today. Ancient authors of this genre exercised considerable literary liberties in constructing their material to communicate a theological message. "It sometimes comes as a shock," notes Roberts, "when Christians discover that the Gospels don't present the sayings of Jesus in exactly the same way, or don't give the same details when telling what must obviously be the same story. Skeptics love this sort of thing and use it to diminish confidence in the Gospels. But both scandalized Christians and zealous skeptics must learn to see the Gospels in the context of their own time and history" (88).

We should hardly be surprised to discover that the authors of the four Gospels often paraphrased or rephrased statements and speeches as well as rearranged events in thematic rather than chronological order (91). "Minor variations of wording or a different ordering of events do not mean that we should discount the reliability of the Gospels as sources of genuine knowledge of Jesus. They do mean that we must closely examine the intent and process of the Gospel writers, however, in order not to misconstrue their purposes" (92).

In a very helpful chapter (nine), Roberts addresses the question: "Are There Contradictions in the Gospels?" He reminds us that "saying something differently [which the gospel authors often did] isn't disagreement, unless of course the two statements couldn't both be true" (102). He has a good summary of common variations among the Gospels and demonstrates that these are hardly grounds for rejecting their reliability as accounts of who Jesus was and what he did and said. Unlike the modern reader, people in the first century "wouldn't have expected Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John to narrate all of the events in the precise order in which they happened. That's just not how it was done in those days. So if we come along and insist that, in order to be reliable, the Gospels must get everything in precise chronological order, we're demanding something that is both anachronistic and inconsistent with the intentions of the evangelists. We're asking the Gospels to be something that they are not" (104).

Roberts takes up the relation between history and faith in chapter ten and insists that the theology of the gospel authors "was anchored in past events" (120). "It was in the realm of history that God made his presence known, revealing himself and his salvation" (120). There's simply no reason why someone can't have sincere theological convictions and at the same time write accurate history.

As for miracles in the life and ministry of Jesus (chapter eleven), in the final analysis those who object to them do so primarily because they begin with a world view that rules out the possibility of miracles altogether. Few critical authors, Roberts rightly notes, "admit openly that their bias against the trustworthiness of the Gospels is fundamentally based on their personal belief that miracles don't happen and that therefore the Gospels must be substantially fictional" (136). In a later chapter Roberts returns to this point and makes the following incisive observation:

"If your worldview excludes the possibility of miracles, then you have an intractable problem with the historicity of the Gospels. But your acceptance of such a worldview is a matter of faith. There's no way you can prove that miracles don't happen, even as there's no way I can prove that they do. There's an irreducible element of faith on both sides of this argument" (194).

Chapters twelve and thirteen are devoted to a discussion of the ways in which historical sources from the era of the gospels, as well as more recent archaeological discoveries, support the reliability of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Especially helpful is Roberts' summation of the significance of the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Nag Hammadi Library. Nothing in either of these "undermines the reliability of the biblical Gospels. In fact, the opposite is true" (161).

Neither the alleged "political agenda" (chapter fourteen) of the early church nor the process by which the canonical books were selected (chapter fifteen) provide any justification for questioning the reliability of what we read in our New Testament.

In the final analysis, does Roberts believe he has proven beyond any doubt that the New Testament Gospels are historically reliable? No. "I do believe, however," says Roberts, "that I've shown it is reasonable to trust the Gospels as historically accurate" (194). So, can we trust the Gospels? In a word, concludes Roberts, "yes" (195).

This is a wonderful book for several reasons, only three of which I'll note. First, it is extremely timely given the plethora of TV documentaries, alleged archaeological discoveries (e.g., the bones of Jesus that were unearthed in his family's tomb!), ludicrous novels like The Da Vinci Code, and the ill-fated Jesus Seminar, all of which have made feeble and now discredited attempts to undermine the reliability of Holy Scripture.

Second, Roberts has presented the evidence in a wonderfully readable way. Often material such as this can be quite dry and tedious, but Roberts has a gift for putting the difficult into easily understandable terms. I highly recommend this book for high school seniors about to begin their studies at college. It is no less valuable to college seniors who have the courage to challenge the spurious and often prejudicial arguments of their liberal professors.

Finally, Roberts is to be commended for demonstrating how to read the Bible as it was meant to be read. All too often Christians of the present day ignore the principles that governed the composition of literature in the ancient world and subject the New Testament Gospels to standards of judgment that were quite foreign, if not utterly unknown, to the original authors. The bottom line is, if we understand the days and ways of the biblical authors and interpret the text as they intended, we have nothing to fear from liberal critics. The Bible, God's inspired Word, will always stand the test. It will not return unto Him void.

This isn't something widely embraced in our day. All too often we look on the healthy and wealthy and conclude they must be walking in lock step with the Lord, while those who struggle and suffer and endure an endless succession of heartaches are deficient in faith and therefore disqualified from any meaningful ministry to others.

Two of my heroes are a standing rebuke to such unbiblical thinking. Few have had a greater impact on my life than the Soviet dissident author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and quadriplegic Joni Eareckson Tada. The former endured the injustice of Stalin's gulag and the persecution of an atheist communist regime while the latter has spent the last forty or so years in a wheel chair. Yet their endurance and joy and resolute commitment to Christ have inspired millions, myself included.

There's a sense in which they've been conduits of divine comfort, middle men, so to speak, "between producer and consumers" (Harris, 144), much like the apostle Paul described himself in 2 Corinthians 1:3-7. This calls for explanation.

Let's not be naïve. Solzhenitsyn and Tada, again like Paul, have each undoubtedly felt the pressure to yield to self-pity and bitterness. After all, few things have the power to turn us in upon ourselves as do affliction and inexplicable suffering. When we hurt, we rarely think of others. We expect them to think of us.

Both Solzhenitsyn and Tada openly confess to their initial, indeed recurring, struggles with suffering. There have been times when they both prayed for death, wanting only to be delivered from an anguish that at times seemed senseless and unjust. I suppose some today would consider them failures, decidedly lacking in faith. How else, after all, does one explain their pain and constant battles? Surely this couldn't be "God's will", or could it?

Reflect for a moment on your own seasons of suffering and consider the two most likely questions that came to mind: "Why me?" and "Doesn't anyone care?" The first is directed at God and implicitly accuses him of injustice. The second is aimed at others and explicitly charges them with insensitivity. But as I read this paragraph in 2 Corinthians 1, I hear Paul saying that there are two quite different questions that ought immediately to cross our lips: "Who else?" and "What for?" Let's read Paul's words:

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort" (vv. 3-7).

I want to highlight two remarkable truths in this paragraph. There are undoubtedly other things that could be said, but let's focus on these two in particular, and in reverse order.

First, Paul clearly affirms that there is, what can only be called, a qualitative and quantitative correspondence between the intensity of human suffering and the availability of divine comfort. If there is an abundance of suffering, so too there is a supply of comfort that is more than adequate to sustain the hurting soul (see esp. v. 5).

No amount of human suffering can outstrip or exceed the resources in God's heart to bring comfort and sustenance and grace to see us through. You need never doubt whether God is up to the task of providing what your soul most needs to survive, even thrive, in the midst of the worst imaginable heartache and hardship. It was only because Paul was confident that God's comfort matched and exceeded his suffering that he was able to mediate that comfort to others when they faced similar, perhaps even more severe, trials.

Second, Paul also discerned a divine design in his hardship. What might appear haphazard and serendipitous to the human eye comes wrapped in the package of God's eternal purpose. Look closely at Paul's statement in v. 4 where he asserts that when God comforts us "in all our affliction" it is "so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God." Pain threatens to anesthetize us to any observable "so that". It seems so senseless, so random, so utterly lacking in good and devoid of a goal. But Paul won't hear of it. Whatever degree of suffering I've endured, says the apostle, it was to equip me to serve you who likewise endure affliction of body and anguish of soul.

This doesn't immediately resonate with many of us. We are by nature so intractably selfish that we regard our own souls "as the center of all providences" and "naturally seek to explain everything by its bearing on ourselves alone" (James Denney). We struggle to envision how our pain and hardship could possibly have any relevance for or bearing upon anyone else. If nothing else, Paul's confession "calls into question the individualism of modern Christianity and the sense of remoteness within and among many contemporary churches" (Paul Barnett, 73).

But there's a vital lesson for us to learn in this truth. When afflicted, whatever its nature or source or perceived cause, stop and do two things: first, avail yourself of the corresponding comforts of Christ and, second, lift up your head, look around, and ask: "Who else, Lord?"

Here's how Paul put it in terms of his relationship to the Corinthians. "If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort." Nothing in Paul's life was interpreted as existing or occurring solely for himself. It was for them!

There are two possible ways to interpret Paul's use of the word "salvation" in v. 6. Certainly he is not claiming that his sufferings are redemptive, as if he accomplished in his body and soul what only Christ achieved at the cross. Rather, some believe Paul is afflicted for their "salvation" in the sense that they received the gospel in the context of his suffering. "What they tend to despise in him [his weakness that comes from suffering] is part and parcel of what brought life to them" (Barnett, 77). On the other hand, the word "salvation" may simply refer more to their general well-being; i.e., spiritual safety and health, as well as joy and victory over sin (i.e., sanctification) rather than any notion of deliverance from divine wrath.

In any case, as Murray Harris rightly notes, "Paul's suffering of affliction and endurance of trial ultimately benefited the Corinthians in that he was thereby equipped to administer divine encouragement to them when they were afflicted and to ensure their preservation and spiritual well-being when they underwent trial" (149).

I'll be honest: I've never found obedience to this passage an easy thing. To look up and away from my own discomfort to take note of others for whose sake God is equipping me, runs counter to my instinctive fixation with self. That's why I must constantly be reminded: God's comfort is more than adequate to meet my needs so that he may meet the needs of others through me.

So, I hope the next time I hurt or am confused or perhaps am put upon unjustly, I'll not ask, "Why me, Lord?" but rather, "Who else?" Then, from the deep reservoir of abundant and wholly adequate strength that God supplies, I'll become a conduit for the life-giving, refreshing waters of divine comfort for which others so desperately thirst.

Sam

This volume is the twenty-second installment in an extended series that explores the variety of ways in which people pursue and express their hunger for spirituality. Additional volumes are devoted to such themes as the Carmelite Tradition, Ignatian Spirituality, the Anabaptist Tradition, the Medieval English Mystics, the Celtic Tradition, the Orthodox Tradition, the Anglican Spiritual Tradition, as well as Benedictine, Quaker, Byzantine, Lutheran and a host of other expressions in the pursuit of wisdom and relationship with God.

That a volume should be devoted to The Charismatic Tradition is certainly appropriate, if for no other reason than that in excess of 500 million people worldwide would identify with some expression of the Pentecostal and Charismatic movements. Mark Cartledge, who identifies himself as "a charismatic Anglican" (136), is himself eminently qualified to write this book, having contributed several volumes to an analysis of charismatic life, with particular focus on the spiritual gifts of prophecy and tongues. He currently serves as Senior Lecturer in Pentecostal and Charismatic Theology at the University of Birmingham in England.

Cartledge contends that "the central motif of the charismatic tradition is the ‘encounter with the Spirit' both corporately within the worshipping life of the Church and individually through personal devotion and ongoing work and witness in the world" (16). One of his primary points of emphasis is that charismatic spirituality is not new or recent but has been a staple feature of Christianity from its earliest days, "even if aspects of it have been marginalized and ignored at various points in history" (16).

One of the more helpful features of this book is the way Cartledge labors to provide a historical context for his discussion of charismatic spirituality. He does this both in the early pages of the first chapter and all of the second. But before noting his conclusions, a word is in order about the "theological context" in which he casts this tradition.

Cartledge believes that "every expression of Christian spirituality [charismatic and non-charismatic] is an indication of a process of searching for God, who once encountered effects change within the life of the searcher, who is then transformed or renewed in order to continue the journey" (25). In a Roman Catholic church the "encounter" with the divine is located in the altar where the Eucharist is celebrated; in a Protestant Evangelical church it is in the pulpit where the Word is proclaimed; and in a charismatic church it is on the platform where a worship team leads in corporate praise and prayer ministry. In a typical charismatic worship service, "participants are taken through a search-encounter-transformation cycle. This begins with praise, moves to prayer and the ministry of reading and hearing the Scriptures preached, followed by prayer over and for the people via ‘altar calls' or ministry times. The outcome of such encounters with the Spirit is transformation of the person in some way (edification, healing, cleansing, empowerment" (26). Of course, Pentecostals and Charismatics "would also see that God is encountered in the preaching of Scripture, in the community of the Church as people have fellowship together and in many events within the life of the worshipping and witnessing Church because the Spirit can and does ‘enliven' all things within the kingdom of God" (27).

Thus the charismatic tradition anticipates continual encounters with the Spirit as part of the on-going life of the believer. Charismatics "expect God to reveal his glory in worship, to answer prayer, to perform miracles, to speak directly by means of dreams and visions and prophecy" (28-29). Cartledge sums it up best in saying that at the core of charismatic spirituality is the conviction that "God is not absent but deeply present. . . . God loves to give himself to his people!" (29).

Within this broader framework in which God is met, charismatics typically focus on four key themes: praise and worship, inspired speech, holiness, and empowered witness in the kingdom of God. But before looking at each of these, Cartledge turns his attention to tracing the presence of charismatic spirituality from the early church to the present day.

In the second chapter Cartledge focuses on "The Charismatic Tradition in Church History." He acknowledges that "in certain periods of church history it is extremely evident, while at other times it is almost if not totally hidden" (33).

In the early church and early middle ages he cites a number of individuals who either mention the presence or themselves practiced some form of charismatic spirituality. These include Clement of Rome, Ignatius, the Didache, the Shepherd of Hermas, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, Hippolytus of Rome, Tertullian, the Montanists, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Gregory Thaumaturgus, and Athanasius. Chrysostom (347-407) was "the first major figure to deny the continuing existence of signs and wonders in the Church, especially speaking in tongues" (36). Others who refer to the operation of spiritual gifts in this period include John Cassian, Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory of Nazianzus, Hilary of Poitiers, Ambrose, and of course Augustine (354-430). In the early middle ages, Gregory the Great and the Venerable Bede (673-735) are noted as among those who acknowledge the on-going validity of spiritual phenomena.

In the high middle ages, Cartledge mentions Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153), Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179), Richard St. Victor (d. 1173), Joachim of Fiore, Bonaventure, Aquinas (1225-74), and Gregory Palamas. Cartledge acknowledges the cessationist tendencies of Luther, Zwingli, and especially Calvin. In the post-reformation period, charismatic spirituality had its advocates among the Quakers and the Jansenists. John Wesley (1703-91), says Cartledge, "although to some extent tolerant of followers claiming dramatic spiritual experiences, including dreams, visions, healings, revelations and prophecies, . . . regarded such phenomena as rare and seemed to have little time for ‘enthusiasts'" (48). Earlier in chapter one he provides a very brief overview of developments from Azusa Street (in the early twentieth century) to the present.

Cartledge's primary concern is with identifying what he sees as the four themes that constitute the heart of charismatic spirituality. The first is worship, which is most often characterized by informality, contemporary music, freedom, full participation (rather than the performance orientation of more liturgical traditions), "an energetic engagement with praise" (58), prayer ministry, and spontaneity that allows for contributions from the congregation that may include "the use of spiritual gifts such as prophecy or speaking in tongues, or . . . the opportunity to give a testimony for the encouragement of those present" (58).

It might even be said that a form of liturgy exists within charismatic spirituality, one that "is not written down but memorized. That is, the sequence of anticipated events is internalized by the members of the group. In this way there is a combination of an understood format and the opportunity for spontaneity to occur. The liturgy is continually in the making and it is a corporate event requiring participation by all those present" (60). Cartledge, building on the insights of Victoria Cooke, provides a brief analysis of the genre of music employed in this tradition. One may expect to encounter songs of praise, love and commitment, intercession, ministry, and songs of awe and glory. All such songs "display a conviction that God himself is the primary agent in worship and that through them he is establishing and sustaining a personal relationship with the worshippers" (67). Thus the goal of worship is "intimacy with God" (61).

A second consistent theme is what Cartledge calls "inspired speech" (69), such as "reception of revelation through ‘words', pictures, visions and dreams; the relay of that revelation through prophetic messages, words of wisdom and words of knowledge; as well as the inspiration in prayer, testimony and preaching" (69). He is quick to point out, however, "that most Pentecostal and Charismatic leaders, following the injunctions of Paul, take seriously the need to discern the nature of inspired speech" (84). All inspired speech, therefore, is "relativised" and does not "give a platform for claims to new revelation" (85).

The third dimension of charismatic spirituality noted by Cartledge is what he calls "the sanctified life." It is certainly the case that modern Pentecostalism can trace its theological roots, at least in part, to John Wesley and the National Holiness movement, but I struggle to see this feature as being essential to the contemporary charismatic movement. Whereas charismatic believers are assuredly committed to the principles and practice of holiness and pursuit of a life consecrated to God, there is nothing especially unique in their approach that would set them apart from the mainstream of evangelical Protestantism.

Cartledge argues that "although charismatic spirituality does not necessarily make purity a prerequisite for the reception of power, as many Pentecostals would do, especially in the Holiness Pentecostal traditions, there is an inevitable relation between the two. It is believed that for the dynamism of the Spirit to be continued in the person's life, there must be an ongoing ‘infilling' of the Spirit, and the Spirit would by his nature as holy bring to mind those things which require cleansing and restoration" (98).

Fourth, and finally, "charismatic spiritually has often been associated with forms of apocalypticism: end-time expectations about the consummation of the kingdom of God. To some extent this is still prevalent but cannot be said to permeate every expression of the tradition" (101). What is pervasive among charismatics is the recognition of the "already / not yet" dimension of the kingdom's presence, due in large measure to the influence of George Ladd and the way his perspective was embraced and articulated by the late John Wimber.

This eschatological tension accounts for why the charismatic tradition emphasizes the current blessings of power that are available to the believer. If anything, among charismatics "the ‘now' is stressed at the expense of the ‘not yet'" (107), which accounts for the over-realized eschatology and triumphalism that one often sees in the more extreme versions of the health/wealth gospel and the Word of Faith movement.

Cartledge rightly acknowledges that "Pentecostal theology has generally been premillennialist"(113) and that "baptism in the Spirit as an empowerment for Christian witness is associated with an expectation of a ‘harvest of souls' indicating the imminence of the End" (113).

However, I must take exception with his comment that "the broader Charismatic movement can be classified as amillennialist" (114). That may be the case in the U.K., but in America most charismatics are decidedly pretribulational and premillennial in their convictions and almost entirely given to an unqualified endorsement of Christian Zionism.

This review has gone on much too long, so let me conclude. Cartledge has a final chapter in which he quite helpfully summarizes the strengths and weaknesses of charismatic spirituality. Among the strengths, he cites:

First is "the ability to give a full expression to the importance of experience. . . . As such it is holistic, uniting the affective and the cognitive dimensions together in purposeful action. It overcomes the old dualisms in Western thought (e.g., body and spirit) and allows people once again to connect their faith to all areas of their existence" (134).

Second, "there is the openness to the empowering of all of God's people, whatever the socio-economic and educational differences" (134). Thus there is "a radical egalitarianism in the Spirit" in which "ministry is no longer limited to the professional and the elite" (134).

Third, "in theological terms, the Cinderella of theology, the doctrine of the Holy Spirit, has finally been allowed to attend the ball" (134).

Among the weaknesses, Cartledge mentions the following:

First, "with the emphasis on power and the immediacy of the transcendent within the immanent, the charismatic tradition can err on the side of expecting too much now" (135). Thus "the power of the resurrection can eclipse the weakness of the cross . . . [and] success and celebrity status can be sought as signs of power and blessing rather than a commitment to suffering and weakness in the ordinary of everyday life" (135).

Second, "the category of creation or nature can be lost in a worldview that sees reality in the dichotomous terms of light and darkness, or the spiritual kingdom of God versus the spiritual kingdom of Satan. This cosmological dualism can fuel spiritual warfare, but it also misses the important category of creation as good but fallen" (135).

Third, "in some places the impact of mature and wise theological thinking is distinctly lacking" (135). The result is that "popular preachers in the charismatic tradition can exhibit enormous influence and yet lack any sense of responsibility to the broader theological tradition and the universal Church" (136).

In sum, this is a very helpful book for those generally unacquainted with the charismatic tradition, but will probably prove a bit frustrating for those wanting a more theologically rigorous analysis.

My primary criticism is that I'm not convinced the four themes cited by Cartledge as indicative of charismatic spirituality are the most accurate way of portraying this tradition. I agree that worship and inspired speech are essential distinctives, but the notion of holiness of life and "empowered kingdom witness" are less evident, at least here in the U.S. Even when they are present among charismatics, they are no more prominent than one would find in many Baptist denominations or even among the Nazarenes.

I think it would be more accurate to emphasize the concept of power in Christian experience and ministry as a distinctive feature of the charismatic tradition (whether in signs and wonders, healing, or the more routine exercise of the charismata in corporate church life). In addition, the concept of divine immanence and the relational intimacy that it produces is far more a factor in the typical charismatic church than either of the other two emphases noted by Cartledge. But aside from these minor quibbles I found his analysis to be accurate and quite helpful.

There are any number of answers to my initial question. Some in Minneapolis need to know that not so much as a sparrow falls to the ground apart from our Father in heaven (Matthew 10:29). They, therefore, being "of more value than many sparrows" (v. 31) may rest assured that this event did not catch God by surprise.

Others need to be gently and lovingly reminded that none of us knows "what tomorrow will bring" (James 4:14a). Indeed, "what is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes" (v. 14b). Instead, they and we "ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that'" (v. 15).

And certainly everyone should stand with confidence and unshakable assurance on this glorious truth, that God orchestrates all things, both blessing and blight, both triumph and tragedy, for the ultimate spiritual good of those who love him and "are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).

But perhaps most important of all, the church in Minneapolis and all the saints throughout Minnesota need to know what Paul believed the church "in Corinth" together "with all the saints" who were "in the whole of Achaia" needed to know (2 Corinthians 1:1), namely, that "the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ", who is most worthy of the affirmation and proclamation "blessed", is "the Father of mercies" and the "God of all comfort" (2 Cor. 1:3) "who comforts us in all our affliction" (2 Cor. 1:4a).

Paul didn't write this in some isolated and insulated ivory tower or from the perspective of a detached and out-of-touch theologian who himself never encountered pain and suffering and the confusion that tragedy so often elicits. He knew what it was like to endure "affliction" (2 Cor. 1:8) and to be "so utterly burdened" beyond one's strength that the only option left seemed to be death (v. 9a). He had tasted the bitter dregs of "deadly peril" (v. 10) and was well acquainted with the darkness of depression (2 Cor. 7:5-6).

This is a man who had suffered the physical horror of being stoned by an angry mob (Acts 14:19) and had felt the relentless emotional pressure of responsibility for the welfare of others (2 Cor. 11:28). The counsel that I bring you today comes from a man who had endured "far more imprisonments" and "countless beatings" and was "often near death" (2 Cor. 11:23). Five times he had been thrashed with thirty-nine blows, three times was beaten with rods, not to mention having endured shipwreck and countless other dangers from both friend and foe (2 Cor. 11:25-26). He knew "toil and hardship" and sleepless nights, even hunger and exposure to the elements (2 Cor. 11:27).

So, when Paul the "apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God" (2 Cor. 1:1a) describes our heavenly Father as one who is the source of mercy and the fount of all comfort, we need to take heed, for he knows whereof he speaks.

I suppose some in Minneapolis might be inclined to curse God for what transpired on August 1st. But as counter-intuitive as it seems, Paul declares him "blessed" (2 Cor. 1:3), as one to be thanked and adored and praised! One would almost think Paul had read the book of Job: "Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, ‘Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord'" (Job 1:20-21).

There are two things in particular on which we need to focus in this passage. First, when Paul says that God is the "Father of mercies" and "God of all comfort", he means more than simply that mercy and comfort come from God. Yes, God most assuredly dispenses these wonderful blessings, but Paul is more concerned to tell us something about God's character, his personality, the disposition and inclination of his heart. In other words, we should read this passage something along the lines of: "the Father who is characterized by mercy" and "the God whose heart delights in giving comfort."

Yes, of course Paul is describing what God does. But even more foundational is what he says concerning who God is or what he is like. This is his nature, says Paul, his personality, not simply his performance. What he does is a reflection of who he is, and he is above all else characterized by tender-hearted compassion and gentleness and love and a passionate desire to encourage and strengthen those who are suffering hardship and hurt.

The second thing to note is the comprehensive scope of God's merciful and compassionate nature, for he is the "God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction" (2 Cor. 1:3b-4a). The former phrase points to the fact that comfort of every kind comes from the heart of our Father. Whatever sort of comfort is needed, whatever its nature, you can trust God to be in plentiful supply. Murray Harris suggests that the word "all" may have a "temporal connotation, ‘ever ready to console' (TCNT), ‘whose consolation never fails us!' (NEB, REB); it may also denote the comprehensiveness of God's compassion, ‘who gives every possible encouragement' (NJB). In accordance with his limitless compassion (cf. Ps. 145:9; Mic. 7:19), God provides his people with never-failing comfort of every variety (cf. Isa. 40:1; 51:3,12; 66:13)" (142-43).

And just how does God do this? What could he possibly say to us that would have this effect? Perhaps he brings to mind David's declaration: "I say to the Lord, ‘You are my Lord; I have no good apart from you'" (Ps. 16:2). Or maybe Asaph's affirmation: "Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you" (Ps. 73:25). Or Paul's promise: "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword, [or collapsing bridges]? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us" (Rom. 8:35,37).

I can't begin to know what those in Minneapolis are suffering, and I certainly don't intend to pontificate with pious words spoken from the comfort and safety of my own circumstances. But this I do know and can say with all confidence: "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion [not physical life or health or wealth],' says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him'" (Lamentations 3:22-24).

Sam

First, I raise my hands when I pray and praise because I have explicit biblical precedent for doing so. I don't know if I've found all biblical instances of it, but consider this smattering of texts.

"So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands" (Psalm 63:4).

"To you, O LORD, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if you be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the pit. Hear the voice of my pleas for mercy, when I cry to you for help, when I lift up my hands toward your most holy sanctuary" (Psalm 28:1).

"Every day I call upon you, O LORD; I spread out my hands to you" (Psalm 88:9).

"I will lift up my hands toward your commandments, which I love, and I will meditate on your statutes" (Psalm 119:48).

"Lift up your hands to the holy place and bless the LORD!" (Psalm 134:2).

"O LORD, I call upon you; hasten to me! Give ear to my voice when I call to you! Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice!" (Psalm 141:1-2).

"I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land" (Psalm 143:6).

"Then Solomon stood before the altar of the LORD in the presence of all the assembly of Israel and spread out his hands. Solomon had made a bronze platform five cubits long, five cubits wide, and three cubits high, and had set it in the court, and he stood on it. Then he knelt on his knees in the presence of all the assembly of Israel, and spread out his hands toward heaven" (2 Chronicles 6:12-13).

"And at the evening sacrifice I rose from my fasting, with my garment and my cloak torn, and fell upon my knees and spread out my hands to the LORD my God" (Ezra 9:5).

"And Ezra blessed the LORD, the great God, and all the people answered, ‘Amen, Amen,' lifting up their hands. And they bowed their heads and worshiped the LORD with their faces to the ground" (Nehemiah 8:6).

"Let us lift up our hearts and hands to God in heaven" (Lamentations 3:41).

"I desire then that in every place the men should pray, lifting holy hands without anger or quarreling" (1 Timothy 2:8).

If someone should object and say that few of these texts speak of worship (see Pss. 63:4; 134:2), but only of prayer (as if a rigid distinction can even be made between the two; indeed, I can't recall ever worshiping God without praying to him!), my question is simply this: Why do you assume that the appropriate place for your hands is at your side and you need an explicit biblical warrant for raising them? Wouldn't it be just as reasonable to assume that the appropriate place for one's hands is raised toward heaven, calling for an explicit biblical warrant (other than gravity or physical exhaustion) to keep them low?

The second answer I give to the question, "Why do you lift your hands when you worship?" is: "Because I'm not a Gnostic!" Gnosticism, both in its ancient and modern forms, disparages the body. Among other things, it endorses a hyper-spirituality that minimizes the goodness of physical reality. Gnostics focus almost exclusively on the non-material or "spiritual" dimensions of human existence and experience. The body is evil and corrupt, little more than a temporary prison for the soul that longs to escape into a pure, ethereal, altogether spiritual mode of being.

But biblical Christianity celebrates God's creation of physical reality (after all, he did pronounce it "good" in Genesis 1). We are more than immaterial creatures. We are embodied souls, and are to worship God with our whole being. Paul couldn't have been more to the point when he exhorted us to present our "bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God," which is our "spiritual worship" (Romans 12:1).

By all means, we must worship with understanding. We must think rightly of God and love him with our heart and soul and mind (see Mt. 22:37). But we are not, for that reason, any less physical beings. We will have glorified bodies forever in which to honor and adore our great God. If we are commanded to dance, kneel, sing and speak when we worship, what possible reason could there be for not engaging our hands as well?

Ronald Allen is spot on in his portrayal of the significance of the human hand:

"It is the human hand which beautifully typifies the human spirit. It is distinct from the hands of the lower animals in appearance and dexterity. Observe the hands of a skilled person; no matter the field, it is an amazing exhibition of the genius of our creative Lord. Think of the fingers of the typist, the seamstress, the potter, the painter, the violinist, the mechanic, the builder; the list could be endless. The hand allows the creative to be expressive; it can do so much good or evil. The hand can be firm, as a parent's spank or firm grasp; it can be gentle, stroking the hair or face of a child or lover."

In addition, the human hand gives visible expression to so many of our beliefs, feelings, and intentions. When I taught homiletics, one of the most difficult tasks was getting young preachers to use their hands properly. Either from embarrassment or fear, they would keep them stuffed in their pockets, hidden from sight behind their backs, or nervously twiddle them in a variety of annoying ways.

Our hands speak loudly. When angry, we clinch our fists, threatening harm to others. When guilty, we hide our hands or hold incriminating evidence from view. When uneasy, we sit on them to obscure our inner selves. When worried, we wring them. When afraid, we use them to cover our face or hold tightly to someone for protection. When desperate or frustrated, we throw them wildly in the air, perhaps also in resignation or dismay. When confused, we extend them in bewilderment, as if asking for advice and direction. When hospitable, we use them to warmly receive those in our presence. When suspicious, we use them to keep someone at bay, or perhaps point an accusing finger in their direction.

Does it not seem wholly appropriate, therefore, to raise them to God when we seek him in prayer or celebrate him with praise? So again, why do I worship with hands raised?

Because like one who surrenders to a higher authority, I yield to God's will and ways and submit to his guidance and power and purpose in my life. It is my way of saying, "God, I am yours to do with as you please."

Because like one who expresses utter vulnerability, I say to the Lord: "I have nothing to hide. I come to you open handed, concealing nothing. My life is yours to search and sanctify. I'm holding nothing back. My heart, soul, spirit, body and will are an open book to you."

Because like one who needs help, I confess my utter dependency on God for everything. I cry out: "O God, I entrust my life to you. If you don't take hold and uplift me, I will surely sink into the abyss of sin and death. I rely on your strength alone. Preserve me. Sustain me. Deliver me."

Because like one who happily and expectantly receives a gift from another, I declare to the Lord: "Father, I gratefully embrace all you want to give. I'm a spiritual beggar. I have nothing to offer other than my need of all that you are for me in Jesus. So glorify yourself by satisfying me wholly with you alone."

Because like one who aspires to direct attention away from self to the Savior, I say: "O God, yours is the glory; yours is the power; yours is the majesty alone!"

Because as the beloved of God, I say tenderly and intimately to the Lover of my soul: "Abba, hold me. Protect me. Reveal your heart to me. I am yours! You are mine! Draw near and enable me to know and feel the affection in your heart for this one sinful soul."

For those many years when I kept my hands rigidly at my side or safely tucked away in the pockets of my pants, I knew that none would take notice of my praise of God or my prayers of desperation. No one would dare mistake me for a fanatic! I felt in control, dignified, sophisticated, and above all else, safe. These matter no more to me.

Please understand: these are not words of condemnation but confession. I know no one's heart but my own. I judge no one's motives but mine. I'm not telling you how to worship, but simply sharing how I do and why. I'm at that point in life where I honestly couldn't care less what the immovable evangelical is thinking or the crazy charismatic is feeling. What matters to me is that God have my all: my mind, will, feet, eyes, ears, tongue, heart, affections, and yes, my hands.

No, you need not raise your hands to worship God. But why wouldn't you want to?

Thank God for Psalm 51! It is a refreshing and heart-warming reminder of the hope of forgiveness. But it's even more than that. David not only prays for pardon from past sin but also for the power to walk in future purity.

He begins with an impassioned plea for ceremonial cleansing, cast in the form of what Hebrew scholars call synonymous parallelism: "Purge me with hyssop and I shall be clean; wash me and I shall be whiter than snow" (v. 7). David's choice of words is instructive. "Hyssop", an aromatic herb with a straight stalk and a bushy head (it looked a lot like broccoli), was dipped in the blood of the sacrifice and then sprinkled seven times on the person who was defiled (cf. Lev. 14:1-9; Num. 19). The word translated "purge" might more literally be rendered, "de-sin" me! Only then will David be "clean" and "whiter than snow". Can this actually happen for sinners like you and me?

But David longs for more. He asks that God would enable him to "hear joy and gladness" (v. 8a; cf. Isa. 35:10; 51:11). David employs a common figure of speech called metonomy of effect for cause, according to which he means: "Make me to experience the joy and gladness that come from hearing the announcement of forgiveness." He may even have in mind a priestly or prophetic oracle in which another loudly declares that his sins are forgiven (cf. 2 Sam. 12:13; Ps. 143:7-8).

Sin can be as spiritually devastating and painful to the soul as broken bones are to the body, thus his cry: "Let the bones that you have broken rejoice" (v. 8b). David's desire is that his entire being, body, soul, and spirit might once again revel and rejoice in the blessedness of communion with God.

Once more he prays: "Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities" (v. 9). Don't look any longer on my failures! Let not your eyes gaze on my wickedness! Blot it from view, erase it from memory (cf. Ps. 103:12; Isa. 27:9; Jer. 1:20; 18:23; Micah 7:19; Zech. 3:4,9)!

With verses 10-12 David's prayer gets even more specific. He petitions the Lord for spiritual power (v. 10), spiritual presence (v. 11), and spiritual pleasure (v. 12).

Simply asking for pardon isn't enough. One must also have the power by which not to commit the same sin again. Dalglish explains:

"The prayer for forgiveness is complete, but pardon, boon though it be, cannot suffice. Its reference is to the past and to excision of iniquity erstwhile accumulated. But what of the future? Unless something different, something new, is done within the personal life of the psalmist, the future will but repeat the past. The forgiveness of iniquity may grant to the suppliant a clean record, but it is the perpetuation of that purity that deeply troubles the psalmist. This problem forms the burden of the prayer for renewal" (147)

No mere "makeover" will do, no matter how "extreme"! David refuses to settle for a glossing over his faults, and pleads for a replacement of the old with the new. A "clean heart" (v. 10a) and a "right spirit" (v. 10b; or steadfast, firm, reliable spirit), his way of describing the inner core and center of his life, are essential for a life of holiness.

David can't bear the thought of the loss of intimacy of fellowship and its attendant joys, and thus prays that he not be cast from God's "presence" (see Ps. 16:11; 21:6; 73:27-28) or suffer the loss of God's Spirit (v. 11).

What does David mean when he prays that God would not take his Spirit from him? Does he envision the possible loss of his salvation? Does he envision the withdrawal of divine grace? No.

Aside from the saving activity of the Holy Spirit in the OT and the empowering ministry by which believers are sanctified and enabled to live holy lives, the Holy Spirit was poured out on select individuals to equip them to perform important tasks in the covenant community of Israel. For example:

(1)        Craftsmen who worked on the tabernacle/temple (Exod. 31:1-6)

(2)        Civil administrators (such as Moses and the 70 elders in Num. 11:16-17,25-26)

(3)        Military commanders (such as Joshua; Num. 27:18)

(4)        Judges (appointed and empowered to rule over Israel as in Judges 3:10; 6:34)

(5)        Samson (Judges 14:5-6,19; 15:14; 16:20)

(6)        Prophets (1 Chron. 12:18; Micah 3:8)

(7)        Kings over Israel (Saul in 1 Sam. 10:1,6,10; 16:14; and David in 1 Sam. 16:12-13)

Thus there was a ministry of the Holy Spirit in the OT, unrelated to personal salvation or character, designed solely to empower, enable and equip someone for a task to which God had appointed him/her. Such, I believe, is what David has in mind in Ps. 51:11. His prayer is that God would not withdraw the enabling anointing of the Spirit that empowers and equips him to lead Israel as King. Indeed, he may well have had in mind that disturbing scene where "the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul" (1 Sam. 16:14) and prays that such would never befall him.

God's power, God's presence, and yes, even God's pleasure is at the heart of David's prayer: "Restore to me the joy of your salvation" (v. 12a)! Sin suppressed is delight destroyed. David was saved, but his soul had soured. He longs once again for the enjoyment of God that comes with intimacy.

David concludes with a vow of commitment in vv. 13-19.

It is possible for the fallen to be forgiven and used of God in ministry to others. David anticipates that after his restoration he will again "teach transgressors [like himself] your ways" (v. 13). David anticipates once again singing "aloud" of the "righteousness" of God (v. 14b). With pardon and power comes the opportunity to once more "declare" God's "praise" aloud (v. 15).

Note also the relationship between testimony and praise in vv. 13-15. "When God answers our prayers, we respond by telling him how great he is; but we do so in public, and this is of the essence of the matter" (Goldingay, 168). Often guilt acts like glue: it seals shut the mouth of praise. It's as if David says, "My conscience has shamed me into silence. Right now my lips are sealed because of my sin. Forgive me and open my mouth and I will surrender my voice to you!"

People have often misunderstood the concluding verses of Psalm 51 (particularly vv. 16-17), thinking that God has rejected his own appointed sacrifices. But in the OT, "not that, but this," is merely an emphatic way of saying "not that, without this" (cf. 1 Sam. 15:22; Hosea 6:6). David is simply telling us that what matters most to God is the inner spiritual reality of a truly contrite and broken heart. Without it, sacrifices are worthless. With it, they are a sweet-smelling aroma to God (see vv. 18-19).

Gordon MacDonald tells the story of how as a child he once knocked over a lamp, cracking the ceramic shaft on one side. He quickly placed it back on the table, turning the lamp so the crack was not visible. He lived in fear each day that his misdeed would be discovered. "The longer the confrontation was delayed," he writes, "the worse the consequences promised to be in my mind." When the day finally arrived, his mother asked him, "Did you do this?" He confessed. What happened next is instructive for us all:

"But Mother never said a word. She took it to the kitchen, glued the pieces so that they once more fit tightly together, and within a few hours returned the lamp to the table. The crack was always there, but the lamp was rebuilt. And it served its purpose for years. Broken worlds may always have cracks to remind us of the past; that's reality. But sometimes the grace of God is like the glue my mother used on her lamp. The bonded edges can become stronger than the original surface" (Rebuilding Your Broken World, xviii).

Some of you have cracked lamps in your past and live in constant fear, devoid of joy, paralyzed in life, relationships, and ministry. You wonder whether you will ever again experience the joy of intimacy with God, much less a fruitful ministry to others.

But God is in the business of rebuilding cracked lives and shattered dreams. His "steadfast love" (v. 1a) is a soul-cleansing power, his "abundant mercy" (v. 1b) a force for restoring long lost hope. All he asks of you is a "broken spirit" and a "contrite heart" (v. 17a). These, says David, he will "not despise" (v. 17b).

Sam

First, Psalm 51 is for those who have never come to grips with the horror of human sin and the magnitude of divine grace. Often grace becomes meaningless, and certainly less than "amazing", because we lose sight of the depths of our depravity. David helps us on both counts by describing in graphic detail the reality of his sin and the breath-taking glory of forgiving grace.

Second, this psalm is for those who think some people are too high or too holy to fall. Let us never forget that this psalm describes the experience of David, King of Israel, the "man after God's own heart" (1 Sam. 13:14)!

Third, this psalm is also for those who think that once you have fallen, you can never get back up again. It is for those who think it's possible to fall beyond the reach of God's grace and forgiveness or that there is a quantifiable limit to divine mercy. But no one is so holy that he/she can't fall, or so fallen that he/she can't be forgiven.

Fourth, Psalm 51 is for those who think that if you have fallen and have actually gotten back up, perhaps even forgiven, you are still useless from that point on both to God and the church. David's experience will prove otherwise.

The historical setting for this psalm is stated in the superscription: "To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David, when Nathan the prophet went to him, after he had gone in to Bathsheba" (see 2 Sam. 11:1-18,26-27; 12:1-18). None of us likes to have our struggles and problems broadcast publicly, much less our sins of the flesh. Yet here we are told that this psalm was written "to the choirmaster"! How would you like for your worst sins to be projected on the screen at church and set to music for the corporate worship of God's people?

This psalm is a remarkable, and in many ways unparalleled, description of the nature of conviction, confession, and forgiveness. But at the same time we celebrate, with David, the joy of having one's sins washed clean, we dare not forget that his transgressions yielded significant and far-reaching consequences: (1) his denunciation by Nathan and the public shame it brought (2 Sam. 12:1-14); (2) the death of David's son (12:15-23); (3) trouble with Amnon: he raped Tamar, Absalom's sister (13:1-22); (4) the rebellion of Absalom (13:23-18:33); (5) trouble with affairs of state (e.g., the revolt of Sheba in 19:41-20:26). The lesson is that whereas sin is certainly personal, in many cases it is anything but private!

On what basis does David ask for acquittal (vv. 1-2)? Does he appeal to his track record as King over Israel? Does he remind God of how many psalms he has written and how much of a blessing they've been to God's children? Does he cite his faithful service or marshal forth a long list of character witnesses? Not in the least.

He doesn't expect to be forgiven based on his sincerity or spiritual intensity or deep pain for having sinned or fervor of heart or promise not to sin again or his depth of determination to somehow "make it up" to God. That's not to say sincerity and zeal and conviction aren't important. But David's appeal is based on what he knows of God's mercy and compassion and steadfast love.

Note the three words David uses in vv. 1-2 to describe his sin. If nothing else, it indicates on his part an acknowledgment that it is sin, and not just some trivial mistake. He calls it a "transgression" (a willful, self-assertive defiance of God), an "iniquity" (a deviation from the right path), and a "sin" (a missing of the divine mark).

Equally vivid are the three words he uses in his plea for forgiveness. He asks God to "blot out" his transgressions, to erase it from the record (Ex. 32:32; Numbers 5:23) or wipe it away (2 Kings 21:13; Is. 44:22).

He beseeches the Lord to "wash" him from his sin (vv. 2,7b). This word was often used of a woman first saturating a garment with lye soap and then treading it under foot on a rock, beating and pummeling it as the rushing waters poured over it. One can almost hear David, tearfully praying: "Gracious Lord, do that to my spirit! My sin is like a deep-dyed stain that has soiled the fabric of my soul, and no ordinary soap or detergent, far less any good works I might perform, can remove it. My transgressions are like ground-in dirt. Lord, scrub me clean by your mercy and grace!" Finally, the word "cleanse" was one used for ceremonial purification in the OT.

When David turns, in vv. 3-4, to confess the magnitude of his sin, his language is no less graphic. Edward Dalglish writes:

"The sin is not vaguely expressed and in a neutral context but intensely personal - MINE - and is so described five successive times in the first three verses. True penitence is not a dead knowledge of sin committed, but a vivid, ever-present consciousness of it. Thus poignantly affected by this fixation of sin and dominated by a feeling of complete submission, the psalmist opens the hidden world of his soul, exposing his guilt-stricken conscience" (Psalm Fifty-One in the light of ancient near Eastern patternism [Brill, 1962] 104).

David makes no excuses, offers no rationalizations, and refuses to shift blame. He doesn't say, "Well, now wait a minute God. Yes, I sinned. But it takes two to tango. What about Bathsheba's complicity in all this? She's so beautiful and seductive. And my wife wasn't meeting my needs. Besides, the pressures of being King over your people are enormous. Given what I faced on a daily basis, I'd expect you to cut me a little slack." No!

There's no insanity plea or appeal to diminished capacity. Do you recall the infamous "Twinkie Defense" used by Dan White when he killed San Francisco Mayor George Moscone and supervisor Harvey Milk in 1985? He pleaded innocent based on his alleged "diminished capacity" brought on by certain biochemical reactions to junk food! I'm innocent, Your Honor. I overdosed on Twinkies!" None of that here.

My sin, he says, "is ever before me" (v. 3b). It is no intermittent flash but a perpetual obsession, a sight from which I can never turn away. It is, as it were, seared on the inside of my eye-lids: I see it all the time. Worse still, it is a sin ultimately against God alone (v. 4a).

But how can it be against God "only" if he committed adultery with Bathsheba, conspired to kill her husband Uriah, disgraced his own family, and betrayed the trust of the nation Israel? Perhaps David would argue that whereas one commits crimes against people, one sins only against God. More likely still, "face to face with God, he sees nothing else, no one else, can think of nothing else, but His presence forgotten, His holiness outraged, His love scorned" (Perowne, 416). David is so broken that he has treated God with such disregard that he is blinded to all other aspects or objects of his behavior.

David's confession is not simply to "get things off his chest", as if confession were merely a therapeutic release of sorts. His confession is designed to tell everyone that God was in the right all along, that God's judgment was true, just, and that the Almighty is blameless (v. 4b).

How long has David had this problem with sin? Did it start with puberty? Was he turned to the "dark side" by some childhood or teen-aged trauma? "The problem," says David, "isn't so much that I sin. The problem is that I'm sinful, and always have been. These deeds of the flesh are symptomatic of a much deeper problem. The fact is, ‘I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me' (v. 5). My transgressions are not of recent vintage. This was no freak, one-off event. I've been a sinner from my mother's womb!"

Thus David confesses his hereditary sin (v. 5) as the root cause of his actual sin (v. 4), but makes no effort to exculpate himself on that basis. In explaining his sinfulness by reference to the natural propagation of the species, David moves beyond his birth (v. 5a) to the very genesis of his being in the womb of his mother, indeed, to the very moment of conception (v. 5b). However, "David is not trying to accuse his mother in order to excuse himself!" (Henri Blocher, Original Sin [Eerdmans, 1997], 28). The focus of the entire psalm is the personal accountability of David. No one is to blame but he alone. His point is simply that "his very being is shot through and through with the tendencies that produced the fruits of adultery and murder. As far back as he can go, he sees his life as sinful" (Blocher, 28).

David's intent isn't to impugn the sex act itself, but rather to confess the native corruption of that which is its product. Dalglish contends that the words "in sin" "ought not to be conceived as qualifying the coitus which resulted in the conception of the psalmist's being. It should properly be taken either to describe the status of the generating mother or else be referred generally to the embryological development resulting in transplanting the predicate of sinfulness to the child. It would be utterly opposed to the thought of the Old Testament [cf. Gen. 1:28; 9:1,7; Ps. 127:3,5; Gen. 29:31; 30:22,33; Ruth 4:13; Ps. 139:13; Job 10:8ff.] to imagine that conception or parturition was sinful" (121-22).

In other words, David's problem (yours and mine too!) isn't that we commit individual acts of sin. The problem is that we have a constitutional propensity to sin. What we need most isn't a new lifestyle, but new life! Not new habits, but a new heart! And what hope is there for this? To be continued . . .

Edwards also employed, as did virtually everyone in his day, certain abbreviations and grammatically incorrect words. For example, he typically uses "an" rather than "a" before a word beginning with "h". I've left these intact. I've also left unchanged his use of "'em" for "them", "'Tis" for "It is", and "no" when we would expect "not".

Perhaps his most annoying habit is the use of "don't" when grammatical precision would call for "doesn't". However, I have chosen not to change these for it would require a major reconstruction of the sentence in which it appears that would obscure rather than facilitate his meaning. Soon enough, as you read Edwards, you will become accustomed to this particular issue of his style.

There are also a few distinct words of which you need to be made aware. Edwards uses "wont" (don't mistake it for "won't") when he means something like "inclined" or "disposed to", and "actings" where we might prefer "actions". He will often use the word "discovery" when we would expect "revelation". Thus to have something "discovered" to you is to have it "revealed". Likewise, the plural "discoveries" is used instead of "revelations". As for spelling, "Saviour" was changed to "Savior" and "shew" to "show".

In only a few instances I have inserted a word, always bracketed, to fill out the flow of his argument. As noted, his excessive use of commas led me to eliminate many of them to conform to what most today are accustomed to reading. There are a number of places, on the other hand, where I inserted a comma in place of his use of semi-colon, or where I have replaced a colon with a period and then started a new sentence. Most of you, especially those unfamiliar with Edwards, won't even notice when this occurs.

I also made a decision, when quoting Edwards, not to include page numbers in the text from the many versions of the Affections that are available (all of which, by the way, I used alternately, depending on which provided the more helpful rendering). See note 1 in the Introduction to the Affections for a listing of them. This was done simply for ease of reading. Once again, the fewer the distractions, the better.

As for biblical texts cited, Edwards consistently used the King James Version, all of which I retained when citing him directly. In other instances the English Standard Version was used.

My treatment of his Personal Narrative followed many of the same principles, although only slight alteration was made in the original text of this short treatise. I did, however, eliminate certain portions that addressed issues of lesser importance. If you are wondering why I included the Narrative in a work that is primarily concerned with the Religious Affections, I encourage you to read the Introduction to Part Two of the book.

This, then, is my apologetic for Signs of the Spirit. Whether you agree with my editorial decisions or are offended by them, I hope you understand that I did it out of my immense respect for Edwards and my passion that his theological convictions be given a hearing in today's Christian world. We simply cannot afford to live in ignorance of the insights he brought to bear on the nature of spiritual experience. At least, I can't.

"In directing attention to his style, we cannot overlook the fact that many readers have found the Affections difficult going, nor should we ignore what is implied in the activity of the many editors who thought it necessary to rewrite the text. It is admittedly an exacting work; it calls for a reader's best effort. But there are rewards if we are willing to raise ourselves to the level of Edwards' austere standards; nothing is to be gained by bringing him down to a more facile plane in order to make him say what we would like to hear" (Yale, 2:8).

"So, what say ye, Sam?" For the most part, I agree with Smith, at least with his conclusion that it is "difficult going," "an exacting work," shaped by "austere standards." But it would be a mistake to think that this book is an effort to bring him down to a "more facile plane in order to make him say what we would like to hear." My goal is to enable the reader to "hear" only what Edwards himself would want said. I'm simply attempting to bridge a rather cavernous gap between how Edwards said it in the eighteenth century and how I believe he would say it were he alive in the twenty-first century.

It would be all too easy to read Smith's words, nod our heads in agreement, and walk away with a smug complacency for having heeded his warning. But that won't result in more people reading Edwards! Or at least not enough people reading him to justify that sort of well-intentioned but idealistic response.

Many of you will contend that I've done a disservice to Edwards, that I've failed to honor him for all that he has meant to me personally. I hope that's not true. I would rather think that I've honored him in the way he deserves by laboring to make accessible to as many people as possible his marvelous insights into the Christian faith. So what exactly have I done in this book? What is Signs of the Spirit?

As the sub-title indicates, this is an interpretation of the Religious Affections. When it comes to his Personal Narrative, it is more an application, but to include that in the sub-title would make it impossibly cumbersome. So, why do I call it an interpretation?

I had considered describing it as a contemporary rendering, but that strikes me as a bit dishonest. The fact is, I have interpreted the Religious Affections. To think otherwise is both naïve and a failure to recognize that I am rendering his work through my own theological and personal grid. Every time I choose to omit a particular paragraph I am making an interpretive decision that inescapably reflects what I regard as most important in the treatise. There are reasons, both personal and philosophical, that govern my choices as to what is central and controlling in Edwards' work as over against what is secondary and peripheral. Every time I re-write a paragraph or paraphrase an argument or summarize a theological point, my own convictions are in evidence. I think it's important that the reader understand this.

Of course, I wouldn't have undertaken this task if I didn't believe that I truly understood what Edwards was getting at in his argument. But I can only leave it to scholars more adept in Edwards than I to render a judgment on my success. I'm certain that some of you familiar with Edwards will object to editorial decisions I've made as well as theological interpretations that are reflected in my effort to make his lofty ideas not more "facile" but hopefully more intelligible. That's the risk one takes when writing a book like this.

The strategy I followed is really quite simple. I sat down over several months and read and re-read the Affections, each time re-writing or articulating in a more understandable way the substance of Edwards' argument. I would determine, as best I could, what sections to omit, believing them to be tangential to the main argument, or perhaps repetitive in a way that would only bog down the average reader (such as his many extended citations of supporting Scriptural texts and extensive comments thereon). On many occasions, however, I have kept in tact substantial portions of his work. These are indescribably rich and, yes, readable. There are, in fact, places where Edwards is quoted at great length, with only an occasional attempt on my part to interpret his comments. You should have no problem in recognizing the difference between Storms and Edwards, for direct citations together with an occasional colorful and vivid term of his are kept in quotation marks.

One more comment. Contrary to what you may think, I did not write this so that people would read it instead of Edwards, but so that they might be motivated and better equipped to delve deeply into the original. Some may consider this rather idealistic, but no more so than those who would disallow this book in the hopes that people will read the Affections in its entirety. In any case, I strongly encourage you to treat this volume as merely preparatory to your encounter with Edwards or perhaps as a companion guide to be read simultaneous with your reading of the original.

To be continued . . .

Aside from the biblical authors themselves, no one has had greater influence on my life than Jonathan Edwards. I first became acquainted with him at the urging of Dr. John Hannah, long-time professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, from which I received my Th.M. in Historical Theology in 1973. John suggested that I undertake an independent studies course in Edwards and that I begin by reading his treatise on the Freedom of the Will (which eventually led to my writing a master's thesis on that volume). My first exposure to Edwards' Religious Affections came when he also insisted that it be included in the list of readings. I will forever be grateful to John for his wise counsel!

Because of the profound and truly life-changing influence that Edwards has exerted on me, I am quick to recommend his works to others, indeed, to everyone. This brings me to my defense of this interpretation of his treatise on the Affections. If it were the case that people heeded my advice, I would hardly have undertaken this project. Nothing grieves me more than to hear that yet another has started reading Edwards only to give up, frustrated by his style or overwhelmed by the complexity of his argumentation.

I can't begin to count the number of times I've been asked for recommended reading, have suggested Edwards, specifically the Religious Affections, only to be greeted with a contorted face or an embarrassed evasion that goes something like this: "Well, I tried reading Edwards. I really wanted to read the Affections, but after about 15 or 20 pages into it, I just quit. For whatever reason, I couldn't follow him. His style was aggravating and, well, to be honest, I just couldn't understand what he was saying."

Such confessions have come not simply from average lay folk, but from well-educated seminary graduates as well. Edwards' penchant for torturously complex sentence structure, together with the abundance of theological "bunny trails" that, at least initially, don't seem to contribute to the point he is making, have tested and all too often triumphed over the determination of even the most avid and intellectual of Christians.

For years I have taken the high ground when it comes to the reading of Edwards, refusing to yield to the insistent demand that someone "tweak his prose" or paraphrase his theological concepts. I have faithfully exhorted countless men and women, again and again, to renew their commitment to working through some of Edwards' more daunting treatises. "Your patience and perseverance will reap a bountiful harvest," I said, again and again, until blue in the face. Alas, to little (or no) avail, I've come to discover. Sure, there are a few, here and there, who've made their way through the Affections and were (justifiably) proud of it. But even in the majority of these cases, they aren't sure they understood, far less appreciated and embraced, what they had read.

I've worked my way through the Affections at least ten times, perhaps more, and I still struggle in places to make sense of him. I'm more than happy to attribute this failure to my shortcomings rather than his (indeed, I still hesitate, at times, to acknowledge that he had any shortcomings!). But I can no longer escape the conclusion that, no matter how passionately I exhort and encourage and rebuke and challenge people to read Edwards, no matter how exuberantly I promise them great treasure at the end of their labors, the vast majority of folk simply won't do it. Or they do it, for at most a few pages, and then set aside the book, forever convinced that Edwards is beyond their grasp. I wish it were otherwise. I pray that it were otherwise. But it isn't and, I fear, never will be.

The theology of Jonathan Edwards and his insight into the nature of religious experience are simply too important, too relevant, and too enriching to sacrifice on the altar of some lofty ideal that it is beneath his (and our) dignity to make his work accessible to a more general audience. I suppose I could go to my grave, proudly congratulating myself for not having yielded to the temptation to do what this book proposes. But I'd go there with the disturbing realization that other people are likewise going there without having reaped the eternal benefits of what Edwards had to say.

Let's be clear about something. I'm not advocating the "dumbing down" of Jonathan Edwards (or any aspect of the Christian faith). Yes, I would much prefer the "smarting up" of the Christian public, equipping them for the task of wrestling with this magnificent theological mind (and others as well). And I will continue to challenge believers of every age and educational background to think and dig deeply into the rich treasures of Christ, his Word, and the resources made available to his Church throughout the last two millennia. My prayer is that Signs of the Spirit will be a helpful tool in the pursuit of that goal.

Nevertheless, I suspect that on reading this many will come to me, protesting: "Sam, you're wrong! I read the Affections. I loved it. Yes, it was really hard, but my perseverance paid off." Praise God for every one of you. But for every one of you there are one-hundred others who tell a different story, whose encounter with Edwards was frustrating and embarrassing. It is for the latter that I wrote this book, not the former.

To be continued . . .

I think the one thing that stands out most to me in the Narrative is Edwards' grasp of the beauty of God and the importance of our enjoyment of it for his eternal glory. We use that word "beauty" a lot, but I'm not sure people know what it means. In the Narrative Edwards unpacks the term as he describes his experience of Christ and the impact it had on his struggle with sin and pride and other issues we all face.

Yes, there is a very close connection between the two. As I explain in the book, the Personal Narrative is Edwards' own personal testimony of his experience of growth in Christ. It sets forth his increasing awareness of the beauty of God and his intimacy with Jesus. In other words, in the Personal Narrative the principles set forth in the Affections are seen in Edwards' own concrete experience. The Narrative is one illustration, and an amazing one at that, of what true spirituality actually looks like in a person's devotional life.

Any alleged religious affection or belief that does not bring us low so that Christ may be revealed and known as high is false. Edwards believed that a true grasp of the revelation of God's grace in the beauty of who Christ was and what he did will always bring us low in our own estimation and bring Christ high. Knowledge that puffs up or that breeds pride and arrogance is misguided and faulty. The affection of humility is the heartfelt desire to see Christ exalted and ourselves brought low. It is also the conviction that prevents us from constantly comparing ourselves with others because we are too busy fixing our gaze on the glory of Christ Jesus.

I also think the reason why Edwards focused so much on humility as an undeniable sign of the Spirit's presence is because it is so contrary to human nature. Nothing comes more unnaturally to us than humility. We are by nature, birth, and choice inclined to promote ourselves, regardless of what it may cost. That a person would willingly go low so that Christ might go high, if I may so speak, is a clear indication of the work of the Spirit.

Humility, increasing love for Christ and his people, hunger for his Word, a joy in God for the intrinsic beauty of who he is rather than primarily for what that beauty can do for us . . . These are just a few of the dozen criteria that Edwards insists constitute the signs of the Spirit's activity in a person's life.

Perhaps the most obvious and controversial way, both in Edwards' day and in ours, is the issue of physical manifestations. People then and now tend to identify the Spirit's presence with certain physical reactions. In other words, if a person weeps or trembles or shakes or falls down, some are quick to say, "Well, the Spirit is certainly present in his life!" Edwards says, "Don't be too quick to judge. You may be right. You may be wrong. Physical manifestations in and of themselves prove nothing. They might be the work of the Spirit, as was the case with Daniel, Habakkuk, and the apostle John. But they might also be the work of the flesh or the devil himself." So, what Edwards does is to insist that we measure spiritual reality not by zeal or outward phenomena but by the lasting, transforming presence of the fruit of the Spirit.

I think a lot of people are afraid of fanaticism and extremism, the sort we often see on certain religious programs on television. They witness bizarre behavior and hear of strange and unbiblical doctrines and tend to associate such phenomena with people who are given to the expression of their affections. It's almost as if they think that certain folk feel passionately as an excuse for not thinking deeply.

That's certainly a possibility that we need to note, but the NT speaks often of our faith as well as our fervor, of our understanding and our zeal. Peter, at least as Edwards interpreted him, actually defined the essence of spirituality as the experience of love for Christ and a joy that is beyond words and permeated with the glory of God (1 Peter 1:8)! If we are ever going to witness in ourselves and in others' lives the reality of genuine spiritual affections we are going to have to move beyond the belief that mind and heart are at odds with each other or that principle and passion are mutually exclusive. Edwards will prove immensely beneficial in helping us do that.

The most vocal critics of Edwards and the Awakening were those who tended to identify the essence of Christianity with intellectual accuracy. In other words, true religion consisted primarily in proper thinking, moderate living, and a sophisticated cultural style. The passions or affections of zeal and love and joy and fear and yearning were a threat to the standard way of doing things in those days. They seemed unruly and out of order, if not chaotic.

Edwards himself certainly insisted on theological precision and decency in all of life, but he also believed that when truth is properly apprehended it awakens and inflames white hot affections for Christ. It's not a matter of either / or but of both / and. Edwards insisted on both right thinking and vibrant affections. For many of the established clergy in his day, the latter were a constant threat to the integrity and validity of the former. But Edwards refused to allow our emphasis on one to exclude the validity of the other.

Edwards wrote this treatise in the wake of the First Great Awakening. His personal and pastoral life was inescapably caught up in and greatly influenced by the spiritual renewal that was sweeping New England. The people in his church were laying claim to heavenly visions, impressions, and often bizarre physiological manifestations. Are these the sure and certain sign of the Spirit's presence? Edwards said no. They might be the work of the Spirit. But then again they might not be. Edwards wrote the Affections from his perspective as a pastor who was trying to steward this remarkable outpouring of the Spirit. He didn't retreat into a proverbial ivory tower to reflect on the nature of spirituality. His feet were firmly planted in colonial New England caught up in the fervor of religious awakening. He was devoted to assessing in the light of Scripture the claims that his own parishioners made for their spiritual experiences. So, what we have here is more than theological speculation. This is the work of a pastor trying to help his people deal with the nature of true religion as it impacted their daily lives.

I hope they will gain a grasp of the nature of true spirituality. In other words, I want them to profit from Edwards' remarkable and biblical insights into the nature of authentic affections and a true grasp of God. We are inundated in today's church with countless models for maturity and ten steps to intimacy and other formulaic approaches to godliness. Edwards calls us back to the Word of God and articulates a clear and convincing case for the kind of life that both reflects the Spirit's presence and truly pleases and glorifies God.

I also hope that my interpretation of the Affections for a modern audience will ignite a fire of curiosity concerning Edwards himself. If by reading this book people are stirred to pick up other of Edwards' writings, I will be ecstatic. I want them to recognize the profound contribution he has made to our understanding of God and to dig deeply for themselves in the vast body of his writings, whether his sermons or his more theologically demanding treatises.

Chapter Seven is devoted to "Penal Substitution and the Bible," in which they respond to such objections as: PSA is not the only model of atonement (of course, no one ever said it was), PSA diminishes the significance of Jesus' life and resurrection (to which they respond by pointing out that "the great majority of Reformed theologians have always insisted that Christ's entire life on earth was part of his atoning work), PSA is not taught in the Bible (but see Part One of this work), and PSA is not important enough to be a source of division (whereas this is certainly true of some doctrines, it is not the case with PSA which the authors contend "lies at the heart of the gospel").

The eighth chapter takes up the issue of PSA and culture. Some critics of PSA have argued that the doctrine is a product of human culture, not biblical exegesis. Certainly it is the case that our cultures affect how we read the biblical text, but "the key question . . . is not whether ideas found in penal substitution are also present within contemporary culture, but whether they are found in Scripture" (220). In other words, "the correspondence or lack of it between a given doctrine and human cultural ideas is entirely irrelevant to the question of whether that doctrine is biblical. What counts is whether it is taught in Scripture" (221).

Another objection is that PSA is unable to address the real needs of human culture and the desires of the human heart. The simple fact is that PSA will not gain acceptance in large parts of the modern world because it fails to address our perceived needs or cannot be understood by those in different cultural settings. It is true, of course, that PSA may be less readily grasped in certain cultures where its foundational ideas are absent. "However, this does not make it ‘unintelligible'; it just means that the task of explanation may be more difficult" (222). Or again, "the lack of common ground with other people does not require that we abandon distinctive ideas; only that we work harder to explain them" (223).

The authors of Pierced proceed to point out that "there is a deeper problem here. The Bible offers a disturbing explanation for why people of every culture find it hard to understand aspects of the gospel, or may even find it repulsive. While they know in their hearts that there is a God and that they should acknowledge him, they ‘suppress the truth' with the result that ‘their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened' (Rom. 1:18,21; cf. Eph. 4:17-18)" (223).

The authors take up the controversial theme of violence in chapter nine and in particular the objection that PSA is tantamount to "cosmic child abuse". This sort of inflammatory rhetoric needs to be defused. PSA differs in two fundamental ways from child abuse. "First, according to the doctrine of penal substitution, Jesus willingly went to his death, in the full knowledge of what would be entailed. . . . By contrast, child abuse involves inflicting pain upon an unwilling victim, or exploiting a person who is unable to understand fully what is happening" (230). Second, according to PSA, "Jesus died to bring glory to himself . . . and to save his people . . . as well as to glorify his Father. By contrast, child abuse is carried out solely for the gratification of the abuser" (230).

Much more is said in response to this scurrilous accusation, such as the explicit testimony of Isaiah 53:10 that "it was the Lord's will to crush him and cause him to suffer." One should also consider the role of the Father in the Son's death as stated in Acts 2:23; 3:18; and 4:27-28. "In short, there is simply no way of avoiding the Bible's clear, repeated and unambiguous teaching that God was in control of Jesus' death, just as it presents him as sovereign over every other event in the entire universe. God did not merely foresee Jesus' death; much less was he a passive bystander. The fact that penal substitution affirms this constitutes an argument in favour of this understanding of the atonement, not an argument against it" (232).

Related to this is the objection that the notion of "redemptive violence" is a myth; in other words, violence doesn't work. It only compounds the problem. But Jesus was fully aware that a violent death awaited him in Jerusalem and set himself to pursue that course (Mark 10:33-34). If the critics of PSA are right, "then Jesus made a terrible mistake" (238). Let's also not forget that the entire OT sacrificial system was violent, yet had profound redemptive benefits. Finally, the violence entailed in Jesus' death differs greatly from how we see it manifest in other settings. Jesus died voluntarily (John 10:17), as a selfless act motivated by love for the glory of his Father and the salvation of those for whom he suffered. And Jesus' death, unlike other expressions of violence, was in fulfillment of justice, not a violation of it.

Another oft-heard objection to PSA is that it is inconsistent with principles of justice, for how can an innocent man be punished for the guilt of others. Guilt, say the critics, cannot be transferred. Needless to say, the biblical authors disagree! We must remember that PSA "does not propose a transfer of guilt between unrelated persons. It asserts that guilt is transferred to Christ from those who are united to him" (243). In other words, "union with Christ explains how the innocent could be justly punished - he is judged for others' sins, which, by virtue of their union with him, become his. Conversely, it explains also how the guilty can be justly acquitted - believers are one with the innocent Lord Jesus Christ, and so his life of perfect righteousness is rightly imputed to us" (244).

A related objection is that PSA implicitly denies that God forgives sin, for if Christ suffers for our transgressions there is nothing left for God to forgive. But this fails to see that the reason why PSA does not deny that God forgives sin is precisely "because it is God himself, in the person of his Son, who pays the debt we owe" (264). It is true that in the relationship between human beings "receiving payment and offering forgiveness are mutually exclusive" (264). But the same does not obtain in God's relationship with his creatures. God did "what no human creditor could do, even in principle: he received payment by giving himself in the person of his Son to take our human nature and suffer the punishment we deserve. In this way he himself repaid the debt of all who are in Christ, paving the way for us to receive his forgiveness" (265).

Should it be objected that PSA doesn't work because Christ didn't suffer the equivalent that was due us (i.e., how could an infinite punishment be borne in a finite time?), "the answer is that just as the heinousness of a sin is determined in part by the dignity of the person sinned against, so also the severity of a punishment is determined in part by the dignity of the one punished" (267). And "thus Christ's suffering, though it lasted only a finite time, was infinite in value because he is infinitely worthy" (267).

Yet another objection to PSA is that it would necessarily entail universal salvation, for how can Christ suffer for the sins of a person and that person still suffer for the same sins in hell? In other words, if Christ died as a penal substitute for all, all grounds for condemnation have been removed. All, therefore, must of necessity be saved.

John McLeod Campbell (1800-1872) recognized this problem and addressed it in his book, The Nature of the Atonement (1856). Campbell rejected PSA because he believed it necessarily entailed one of two conclusions, neither of which he found acceptable. If Christ died as a penal substitute, propitiating the wrath of the Father, then either we must restrict his death to the elect or we must embrace universalism. Campbell said this concerning John Owen's defense of limited atonement in the Death of Death in the Death of Christ:

"As addressed to those who agreed with him as to the nature of the atonement, while differing with him as to the extent of its reference, this seems unanswerable" (1873, 4th ed., 51).

Of course, I think Campbell is correct. If one embraces PSA, either one must embrace particular redemption or universal salvation. The authors of Pierced also recognize this and provide a brief defense of the view that Christ died as a substitutionary sacrifice for the elect only (see pp. 268-78).

A frequently heard protest against PSA is that it is in danger of severing the Godhead, pitting one member of the Trinity against another. But as the authors of Pierced point out: "It is a bizarre objection, for there is nothing wrong in principle with saying that one person of the Trinity does something ‘to' another" (281). The Father "sends" the Son, "loves" the Son, "glorifies" the Son, etc. Why is it so difficult to envision a scenario in which by voluntary agreement the Father "punishes" the Son in the place of those for whom he dies?

Furthermore, "the fact that the Father exacts a punishment borne by the Son does not mean the members of the Trinity are divided or act independently. Rather, they are inseparably engaged in two aspects of the same action. Their involvement is asymmetrical, but this is entirely apposite to the asymmetry inherent in their relationship" (285).

In the final two chapters this book responds to objections relating to the Christian life, most of which are so ridiculous that they hardly warrant mentioning. For example, some critics insist that PSA fails to address issues of political and social sin as well as cosmic evil. The authors of Pierced are perceptive in pointing out that this objection is often fueled "by frustration at the failure of conservative evangelicals to engage with issues in the social and political sphere. It is by no means clear, however, that this is the result of a belief in penal substitution" (309).

To suggest that PSA fails to address so-called "structural" or "systemic" evil (whether it be political, economic, ethnic) is silly. There's no other word for it. For we must recognize that "blame for all sin rests ultimately with sinful people, and not with the impersonal ‘structures' of which they are a part" (310). In other words, the only reason there is such a thing as structural or systemic evil is because evil, sinful people have corrupted institutions and infused systems of government and education and the like with immorality, injustice, selfish ambition, and a thirst for power. PSA is, in fact, the only theory of the atonement that adequately addresses the problem of human sin which is the source and culprit for all forms of evil.

Of course, "complex social structures may sometimes behave as if they had a life of their own, even to the extent that we may be unable to distinguish the contributions of individual members. But ultimately no social or ethnic group, no company, no government has an existence apart from the people who comprise it" (311).

And lest anyone suggest that PSA fails to address the ecological concerns of a decaying cosmos, let's not forget that the apostle Paul clearly relates the release of creation from its corruption to the final redemption from sin in the experience of God's people (read carefully Romans 8:19ff.). PSA thus deals with so-called "structural sin" inasmuch as "the roots of this lie in human hearts. . . . Penal substitution also holds the key to the redemption of the whole created order, for as God's people are liberated from his curse, so the curse on creation will ultimately be lifted" (313).

One more objection relating to the Christian life is the bizarre suggestion that PSA causes people to live in constant fear of God. Of course, on the one hand, the body of Christ could do with a little (a lot?) healthy reverential fear of God. And, as the authors of Pierced so perceptibly point out, "a lingering fear of God may actually arise from a neglect of penal substitution" (320). When people read Scripture and repeatedly encounter the reality of divine wrath, only then to find PSA ignored in our pulpits, "is it any wonder they are left with a troubled conscience? For if God's holy wrath was not endured by Christ in our place, it remains upon us" (320), and that, dear friend, is certainly good grounds for fear.

The authors conclude their work with some helpful advice for preachers. They warn against the use of inadequate and misleading analogies and illustrations of PSA. The well-known courtroom story of a judge stepping out from behind the bench to assume the place and endure the penalty of the defendant who has just been convicted is a case in point. Even worse is the story of the railroad switchman who is compelled to make a choice between the people on the train and his young son who has accidentally wandered onto the track. If he throws the switch, his son will live, but the people will die as the train crashes into the freight cars located on the other side. It's a moving story, but no less distorting of the truth of PSA. I leave it for the reader to figure out why, or simply read Pierced and let them provide instruction on the inadequacies of such illustrations.

No book is without its faults, but I struggled to identify any major ones. My only complaints, and they are minor, are these. First, there are so many other representative theologians from the history of the church who could have been cited as advocates of PSA that I wondered what were their criteria for selection or exclusion. But this ultimately boils down to personal preferences and is not a fatal flaw. Second, more could have been developed from the book of Revelation. Although their biblical survey was good, the portrait in Revelation of both divine wrath and the redemptive work of the Son provides even more support for PSA.

Finally, there is an absence of extensive interaction with rival theories of the atonement. One of the primary objections to PSA I often hear is the failure of its proponents to incorporate the elements of cosmic victory over the powers of darkness (as, for example, in the work of Gustaf Aulen); the concept of recapitulation (as articulated by Irenaeus), the subjective moral influence of Christ's death (as found in Peter Abelard and certain liberal theologians of the 19th and early 20th centuries), as well as the governmental theory (defended, among others, by Hugo Grotius).

The authors of Pierced did make an occasional reference to these other models of atonement, but it would have helped had they demonstrated in detail how each of them makes sense and accomplishes something of a positive and redemptive nature only because of the foundational and more fundamental work of Christ in dealing with human sin and guilt by propitiating the wrath of the Father.

Those minor caveats aside, this is a superb book that should be given full and serious attention by all students of Scripture. I cannot recommend it too highly.

By

Steve Jeffery, Mike Ovey, Andrew Sach

(Nottingham, England: IVP, 2007, 373pp.)

Part One

On my recent ministry trip to Scotland I was determined to obtain a copy of this remarkable book. It wasn't easy, as it was sold out in the first two stores I visited. Finally, while in Edinburgh, I located a copy at the Wesley Owen bookshop. I immediately immersed myself in it, by-passed the in-flight movie on the way home, and concluded it about the time I landed in Chicago. Trust me, it was time (and money) well spent.

I wont' rehearse the history behind this volume, other than to say that it was largely provoked by the controversial comments of Steve Chalke in his book The Lost Message of Jesus and the discussion in the U.K. that ensued concerning the nature of Christ's atoning sacrifice. The debate had been raging in America for some time before this, due in large measure to the book Recovering the Scandal of the Cross (IVP) by Joel Green and Mark Baker (see my brief summary of this book at my blog) and the occasional comments in speech and print of Brian McLaren.

This is a large (373 pp.) and substantive treatise that I hope Christians will take the time and apply the effort to ingest. It has been endorsed by a wide range of Christians from a diversity of theological and ecclesiological backgrounds. In addition to John Piper's Foreword, it carries the endorsement of D. A. Carson, Mark Dever, Sinclair Ferguson, John Frame, Timothy George, Kent Hughes, Tremper Longman, C. J. Mahaney, I. Howard Marshall, A. T. B. McGowan, Roger Nicole, Peter O'Brien, J. I. Packer, Mike Pilavachi, Tom Schreiner, Ian Stackhouse, Mark Stibbe, Stuart Townend, Carl Trueman, Terry Virgo, and Gordon Wenham, just to mention a few.

The book is divided broadly into two parts. In Part One, titled "Making the Case," the authors provide a rich and robust defense of penal substitutionary atonement from a Scriptural, theological, pastoral, and historical perspective. Part Two, "Answering the Critics," is devoted to an extensive response to the criticisms of penal substitution. Due to the extensive nature of this volume, I'll divide my review into two parts, corresponding to the two major divisions of the book itself.

Let me begin with the Foreword. Count on John Piper to say it straight and true. He pulls no punches as to why this issue is necessarily at the forefront of evangelical dialogue: "For if God did not punish his Son in my place, I am not saved from my greatest peril, the wrath of God" (14). That may strike some as odd language, but only because we have lost sight of that from which we most need to be saved and delivered: God! We have only one hope, says Piper and it is "that the infinite wisdom of God might make a way for the love of God to satisfy the wrath of God so that I might become a son of God" (14).

I suppose I should begin as the authors do with a definition of penal substitution. In the opening paragraph of the Introduction, they write: "The doctrine of penal substitution states that God gave himself in the person of his Son to suffer instead of us the death, punishment and curse due to fallen humanity as the penalty for sin" (21). You may find it shocking that this would even be up for debate, for "this understanding of the cross of Christ," say our authors, "stands at the very heart of the gospel" (21).

There simply can be no Christian gospel apart from the truth that Jesus Christ has endured and suffered in himself, on the cross, the wrath of God due to sinners, thereby propitiating or satisfying said wrath on behalf of those for whom he died. Yes, indeed, it is shocking that professing evangelicals should call it into question or, worse still, describe it as tantamount to "cosmic child abuse."

Among those who have questioned or utterly rejected penal substitutionary atonement (hereafter, PSA), thus calling for this book to be written, are C. H. Dodd (from a generation ago), Stephen Travis, Eleonore Stump, Colin Gunton, Paul Fiddes, Vernon White, Stephen Sykes, Timothy Gorringe, Tom Smail, Joel Green, Mark Baker, J. Denny Weaver, John Goldingay, Steve Chalke, Alan Mann, and Brian McLaren.

Those who in past years have come to the exegetical and theological defense of PSA include Leon Morris, Roger Nicole, John Murray, J. I. Packer, John Stott, Mark Meynell, Henri Blocher, David Peterson, D. A. Carson, Tom Schreiner, A. T. B. McGowan, Robert Reymond, and numerous others, all of whose books are mentioned in the Introduction. One volume in particular, written to honor the life and ministry of Roger Nicole, is especially important: The Glory of the Atonement, edited by Charles E. Hill and Frank A. James III (IVP, 2004).

The focus of Pierced is summarized by its authors: "In brief, we argue that penal substitution is clearly taught in Scripture, that it has a central place in Christian theology, that a neglect of the doctrine will have serious pastoral consequences, that it has an impeccable pedigree in the history of the Christian church, and that all of the objections raised against it can be comprehensively answered" (31).

In their chapter, "Searching the Scriptures: The Biblical Foundations of Penal Substitution" (the longest one in the book, I might add), the authors focus on such crucial texts as Exodus 12 and the Passover, Leviticus 16, the Day of Atonement, and the Scapegoat, the teaching of the Psalms and Prophets on PSA, with an especially helpful and exhaustive treatment of Isaiah 53 and its fulfillment in the death of Jesus in the NT.

In this chapter they also survey several well-known NT texts, with special attention given to the book of Romans and the reality of divine wrath. They do a wonderful job of demonstrating, contra Dodd (drawing on the work of Morris and Nicole, that the noun hilasterion in Romans 3:25-26, and the verbal form hilaskomai mean, respectively, "propitiation" and "to propitiate", and that the focus of this action is God himself and the manifestation of his wrath against sin.

They summarize this chapter as follows: "The Bible speaks with a clear and united witness. Christ our Passover lamb has been sacrificed. The Servant was pierced for our transgressions. He died, as Caiaphas prophesied, in the place of the people. He was set forth as a propitiation for our sins. He became a curse for us, bearing our sins in his body on the tree, drinking for us the cup of God's wrath, giving his life as a ransom for many" (99).

The authors then turn to provide what they call "The Theological Framework for Penal Substitution" by setting PSA in the larger context of what the Bible says about such themes as creation, fall, sin, death, and wrath. The most important feature of this chapter is their discussion of how PSA relates to the unified work of the Trinity, for its critics have argued that any notion of the Father punishing the Son is to divide the Godhead, pitting one person against another. More on this later.

As noted above, I can't delve into every chapter, so let me leap forward to their discussion of PSA in the history of the church. "The question of historical pedigree," they write, "has acquired a further significance in recent years, for increasing numbers of people are suggesting penal substitution is a novel doctrine, invented around the time of the Reformation by a church that was (it is alleged) drifting even further from the biblical faith of the early church Fathers" (162).

In response to this charge, the authors of Pierced cite representative thinkers from the past who clearly defend PSA. Included are Justin Martyr (c. 100-165), Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 275-339), Hilary of Poitiers (c. 300-368), Athanasius (c. 300-373), Gregory of Nazianzus (c. 330-390), Ambrose of Milan (339-397), John Chrysostom (c. 350-407), Augustine (354-430), Cyril of Alexandria (375-444), Gregory the Great (c. 540-604), Thomas Aquinas (cf. 1225-74), John Calvin (1509-64), Francis Turretin (1623-87), John Bunyan (1628-88), John Owen (1616-83), George Whitefield (1714-70), Charles Spurgeon (1834-92), D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones (1899-1981), as well as John Stott and J. I. Packer.

As noted, in Part Two they turn their attention to providing extensive answers to every major objection to PSA. I will take that up in the second installment of this review.

Boston Globe columnist Dan Shaughnessy caps off these comments by saying: "Everything is viewed through the prism of 2007. Some of the old standards have been modified. Tom has a lot of teammates, opponents and peers in sports who are parents of children with women they are not married to. By and large, this is not considered a negative anymore."

Well, there you have it. What can one say about all this gushing pride in pre-marital sexual intercourse and a baby being born out of wedlock? Let me make sure I got this right: It's 2007! Ah, that explains it. It's so reassuring to know that moral principles are shaped by the year in which one lives. Yes, by all means, let's modify the "old standards" so we don't have to deal with issues of right and wrong, guilt and forgiveness, etc. And since there are so many in sports (and society in general) who engage in this sort of activity, it has ceased to be something "negative". Well, that's good to know. Just count heads of everyone who has sinned like you and if there are enough of them, and if they are sufficiently famous, it's all o.k.!

I give up! Well, not really, but this sort of stuff is so commonplace that I wonder if America has lost its moral backbone (on second thought, of course it has). Certainly its biblical conscience (assuming it ever had one) has long since lost its way.

Sam

The first concerns the definition or explanation given of Justification. In IV. B. it is defined/explained as "God's gracious and full acquittal . . ." But justification is not simply acquittal; it is not simply God saying "Not Guilty." It is the positive and forensic declaration that the believer in Christ is righteous. Acquittal alone won't get anyone into heaven. We need the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ. Protestant theologians in the tradition of the Reformation have traditionally defined justification in terms of forensic or legal declaration of righteousness because of the active and passive obedience of Christ imputed to our account.

Now certainly it is true that justification includes the notion of "acquittal" or the declaration: Not guilty. But acquittal is not itself justification. Justification is the declaration by God that we are reckoned righteous through faith in Christ.

The second issue concerns the ministry of the Holy Spirit. In II. C. we read:

"At the moment of regeneration He [i.e., the Holy Spirit] baptizes every believer into the Body of Christ."

I agree with the BFM that Spirit baptism occurs at the moment of regeneration for all believers. The classical Pentecostal doctrine of Spirit baptism as separate from and subsequent to conversion lacks biblical warrant.

But this statement asserts that the Holy Spirit baptizes every believer into the Body of Christ. The problem is that there isn't a single, solitary biblical text which says that the Spirit baptizes anyone into anything. It is always and in every text Jesus Christ who baptizes believers in the Holy Spirit, the result of which is that we are incorporated into the Body of Christ.

Some have argued from 1 Corinthians 12:13 that Paul is describing a baptism "by" the Holy Spirit into Christ or into his body. Part of the motivation for this is the seemingly awkward phrase, "in one Spirit into one body," hence the rendering, "by one Spirit into one body." But what sounds harsh in English is not at all so in Greek. Indeed, as D. A. Carson points out, "the combination of Greek phrases nicely stresses exactly the point that Paul is trying to make: all Christians have been baptized in one Spirit; all Christians have been baptized into one body" (Showing the Spirit, 47).

The translation of the ESV is certainly the most accurate in 1 Cor. 12:13. It reads:

"For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body - Jews or Greeks, slaves or free - and all were made to drink of one Spirit" (emphasis mine).

Much the same terminology appears in 1 Corinthians 10:2 where Paul says that "all were baptized into Moses in the cloud and in the sea." Here the cloud and the sea are the "elements" that surrounded or overwhelmed the people and Moses points to the new life of participation in the Mosaic Covenant and the fellowship of God's people of which he was the leader (see Grudem, Systematic Theology, 768).

In the other texts referring to Spirit-baptism (Mt. 3:11; Mk. 1:8; Lk. 3:16; Jn. 1:33; Acts 1:5; 11:16), the preposition en means "in", describing the element in which one is, as it were, immersed. In no text is the Holy Spirit ever said to be the agent by which one is baptized. Jesus is the baptizer. The Holy Spirit is he in whom we are engulfed or the "element" with which we are saturated and deluged, resulting in our participation in the spiritual organism of the church, the body of Christ.

If the biblical authors had intended to teach that the believer is baptized "by" the Spirit they would most likely have used another preposition, probably hupo followed by the genitive, not en with the dative. This is what we see in such texts as Matthew 3:6, Mark 1:5, and Luke 3:7 where people were baptized "by" John the Baptist; or texts such as Matthew 3:13 and Mark 1:9 where Jesus was baptized "by" John; or Luke 7:30 where the Pharisees had not been baptized "by" John.

I can only conclude that those responsible for writing the BFM 2000 were misled by a mistranslation of 1 Cor. 12:13. As I said, the Holy Spirit doesn't baptize anyone in anything. I encourage all to read again the prophecy of John the Baptist that Jesus "will baptize you with [lit., "in", the Gk. Preposition en] the Holy Spirit and with fire" (Mt. 3:11; Mk. 1:8; Lk. 3:16; Jn. 1:33; Acts 1:5; 11:16).

Dan Wallace, noted Greek scholar, disagrees and argues that the preposition en is an example of "means". He writes: "the Holy Spirit is the instrument that Christ uses to baptize, even though he is a person" (Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics, 374). However, Wallace is also clear that it is still Christ himself who is the agent of the baptism, i.e., he baptizes, not the Spirit. So, even if one accepts Wallace's understanding (which I don't), the point is still the same: Jesus Christ baptizes either "by means of" or "in" the Spirit, but the Spirit himself, contrary to the BFM, never baptizes anyone.

Sam Storms

I would also have to say something about his life. I don't know if Edwards would cope well in today's world. I certainly think most of us wouldn't have coped well in his world. In any case, he is a standing rebuke to our wasting of time, our trivial pursuits, our failure to redeem each day for God's glory, our lack of care in what we eat and drink, and our tendency to squander the gifts and resources God has given us for the expansion of his kingdom. Edwards was obsessed with exploiting every breath he breathed for the sake of Christ and his church. His daily work habits, his devotion to his wife and children, his love for God's Word, his commitment to expository preaching, well, as I said, where does one end?

I should also mention his thirst for knowledge, not as an end in itself but as a means to the worship of God. Edwards wanted to know everything. Again, it wasn't because of pride or fleshly ambition, although he no doubt struggled as much as we do with these sins. Rather he wanted to expand his understanding so that his affections would be lit up red hot for God in all of life.

Yes, Jerry Falwell is now in a much better place. Yes, he's side by side with angels. Whether or not homosexuals, people with HIV, and feminists are with him is not mine to know. But of this I am quite certain: no one who is there has a "right" to be. Mr. Berens couldn't be more wrong: Jerry Falwell has not learned that he or anyone else has a "right" to eternal happiness and salvation. Whatever else one may think of Falwell, he was absolutely certain of one thing on this earth and even more so now in heaven: he's there by sheer, unequivocal mercy! If Falwell could respond to Bob Berens he would no doubt preach a passionate sermon on the just deserts of all humanity: hell. Hell for Falwell, hell for Berens, hell for heterosexuals and homosexuals, hell for feminists and chauvinists, hell for all.

That any are in heaven is not a matter of "right" but of grace. I have a "right" only to that which I am owed, and God owes me nothing but eternal death. I am confident that Jerry Falwell is indeed in heaven. I hope and pray that some day Mr. Berens will join him. Then all of us who know Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior can together shout and sing of the sovereign, saving mercy of God poured out on hell-deserving rebels.

Open theists deny that God has exhaustive divine foreknowledge. They argue that there is no way God can know in advance how a person will respond to the gospel because the choice has yet to be made. Based on their belief in libertarian freedom, any individual could choose other than what God allegedly might foreknow. So, any notion of God being able to comprehend or "see" or know how all humans will respond to the gospel of Christ is simply dismissed out of hand. Thus election for them, if they have a doctrine of election at all, is simply God's determination to choose Christ as the Elect One. He is the one whom God has chosen and we are united to him by an act of our own free will. God doesn't choose individuals for salvation. Rather, God chooses Christ and we choose him individually. That is how we become the "elect". Open theists will also typically argue that election is unto service or ministry or unto historical prominence, none of which, however, has any ultimate bearing on whether or not a person is saved or lost.

I think there's also an understandable reaction among Arminians to the sometimes rigid and unloving relational style of some Calvinists. The latter can often become so zealous in their defense of sovereign grace that they abandon common courtesy. Of course, Arminians are also susceptible to this sort of angry dogmatism, but I think Calvinists need to be especially conscious of this tendency. It closes the hearts and minds of Arminians to any consideration of what we are trying to say.

I can't let this question pass without one more comment. The bottom line is that I wrote this book on election because I am honestly convinced that it is what the Bible teaches, and we can never grow in our relationship with Christ or properly prize him above all else if we ignore the whole counsel of God concerning how he saves a human soul.

In addition to this, Arminians are concerned that Calvinism will undermine evangelism and the necessity of prayer. Calvinists are likewise concerned that Arminianism compromises grace and denigrates from the glory of God.

Needless to say, these are powerful and emotionally charged concerns that often derail the conversation and prevent us from looking at the text and allowing it to form and fashion our beliefs about the role of God in salvation.

Sam 

Several people have asked me why this label is used and what precisely does it mean? What follows is an extremely brief summary of some of the distinctives of American Fundamentalism.

If there is a date for the emergence of Fundamentalism, it would be somewhere around 1910-15, the years during which "The Fundamentals" were published. This was a series of twelve books that identified the so-called doctrinal non-negotiables of a Fundamentalist. They included: (1) the inerrancy of Scripture; (2) the virgin birth of Christ; (3) the substitutionary atonement of Christ; (4) the bodily resurrection of Christ; and (5) the second coming of Christ. Of course, simply believing these truths did not make one a fundamentalist, but one would not have been identified with that family of the Christian faith apart from these five doctrines.

How might one define Fundamentalism? According to Alister McGrath, "Fundamentalism arose as a religious reaction within American culture to the rise of a secular culture." James Davison Hunter described Fundamentalism as "orthodoxy in confrontation with modernity." Martin Marty has said that "Fundamentalism in any context takes form when members of already conservative or traditional movements experience threat."

Following are several characteristic features of that form of Fundamentalism that dominated the American scene prior to World War II, which serve also to distinguish it from the subsequent emergence of so-called Protestant Evangelicalism.

(1) Characterized by a siege mentality; i.e., a defensive attitude toward secular society such that one's primary responsibility toward the latter is evangelistic (i.e., the Christian must seek only to preach to a secular world while limiting one's participation within it).

(2) Culturally isolationist (which often entailed a withdrawal from most social and artistic activities).

(3) Intellectually narrow-minded and resistant to engagement with emerging ideas (this would often manifest itself in a suspicion of state universities and public schools in general).

(4) Ecclesiastically separatistic (when internal reform proves impossible, separate from the denomination and form a new and doctrinally pure church); this inclination toward separatism also manifested itself in personal relations, as Fundamentalists tended not only to separate from Liberals but also from all Conservatives who themselves associated, to whatever degree, with Liberals.

(5) Socially inactive (i.e., issues such as global poverty, racial reconciliation, social justice, world peace, concern for the environment, etc. were viewed as an attempt to salvage a sinking ship; the aim of the Church was to redeem sinners out of society, not transform or renew it).

(6) Relationally angry (I once heard someone describe a Fundamentalist as an Evangelical who's mad at everyone).

(7) "Certain central doctrines . . . [are] treated as barriers, intended as much to alienate secular culture as to give fundamentalists a sense of identity and purpose" (McGrath, 29).

Theologically speaking, most Fundamentalists are also known for a number of other distinctive beliefs, among which I would include:

Six-day creationism and belief in a young earth.

Cessationism and a general hostility toward anything charismatic.

Dispensational, Pre-Tribulational Premillennialism.

More Arminian than Calvinistic on issues of salvation and human freedom.

Please note that I'm not trying to make value judgments on these points, nor am I saying that anyone who believes these particular doctrines is necessarily a Fundamentalist (it is, after all, as much a cultural label as it is theological). On a number of issues of theology I agree with Fundamentalism (while, of course, strongly disagreeing with others). My aim here is simply to identify the tendencies among so-called Fundamentalists.

I should also point out that people such as Jerry Falwell deviated from early American Fundamentalism on some important issues. Falwell was himself profoundly committed to excellence in higher education (his Liberty University being an obvious example) and was not at all hesitant about involvement in the political process, especially when issues of basic biblical morality were at stake (indeed, this elicited considerable criticism from both sides of the political spectrum).

Perhaps the best way to understand Fundamentalism is to study the history and nature of Evangelicalism. Here are a few recommendations:

(1) "Fundamentalism and American Culture: The Shaping of Twentieth-Century Evangelicalism 1870-1925," by George Marsden (Oxford).

(2) "The American Evangelical Story: A History of the Movement," by Douglas Sweeney (Baker).

(3) "The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind," by Mark Noll (Eerdmans).

(4) "Evangelicalism and the Future of Christianity," by Alister McGrath (IVP).

(5) "Evangelicalism: The Coming Generation," by James Davison Hunter (Chicago).

(6) "Who are the Evangelicals? Tracing the Roots of Today's Movement," by Derek Tidball (Harper Collins).

(7) "On the Boundaries of American Evangelicalism: The Postwar Evangelical Coalition," by Jon R. Stone (St. Martin's Press).

(8) "Evangelicalism: The Next Generation," by James M. Penning and Corwin E. Smidt (Baker).

(9) "Evangelicalism Divided: A Record of Crucial Change in the Years 1950-2000," by Iain Murray (Banner of Truth).

"Students at Liberty University revered him. Evangelical pastors emulated him. Washington politicians courted him, and liberal elitists hated him. In all the years that Falwell fought pornography, we never opened our newspaper to read of his arrest at a peep show. For all his vehement condemnation of drug use and gay marriage, Falwell was never discovered with street-grade methamphetamines or getting sensual massages from paid male escorts. Sure he made a few verbal gaffes in this or that interview, but like the Bible says, we all stumble in many ways."

There are multiple reasons people cite to explain their decision, five of which I've noted below. Whether or not these are legitimate reasons to seek full communion with Rome is not my concern. I'll leave that with you to decide.

1) Aesthetic - Many appeal to the experience of being moved by the architecture of RC church structures, the incense, the beauty of liturgy, the mystery, the solemnity, the drama, the vestments of the clergy, the church calendar, the sense of transcendence, religious symbolism, etc.

I can vividly recall the response of one of my seminary professors when asked why he was leaving his independent Bible church for fellowship in an Episcopal congregation. He said, quite matter of factly: "I'm tired of worshiping beneath a basketball goal." Of course, he had other reasons as well, but his point is well-taken. There is a wholistic dimension to RC worship that is often absent in the somewhat Spartan and stripped down orientation of much of evangelical Protestantism.

On the other hand, it has been pointed out that, for some at least, it is often precisely the accoutrements and external trappings of RC worship that obscures the simplicity of the gospel and breeds an unhealthy reliance on sight, sound, posture, and gesture rather than on Christ alone.

2) Historical - Some appeal to the belief that the Reformation was a rebellion and that Protestantism is a deviation from the historic stream of the true church. They also point to a desire for unity with the past and the appeal of tradition.

Although he didn't use these precise terms, Beckwith acknowledged the appeal of historical and theological continuity with the earliest generations of the church as one reason why he was drawn back to Rome.

3) Theological - Some convert for strictly theological reasons. They insist that sola scriptura, sola fide, etc. are wrong. Many have become persuaded of a sacramental/sacerdotal approach to God's mechanism for dispensing grace together with a belief that Protestantism is Gnostic and fails to embrace the incarnational principle of scripture.

Beckwith cited his belief that the Catholic doctrine of justification is more biblical than that of evangelical Protestantism. I would suggest, of course, that this is perhaps the most fundamental reason why I remain steadfast in my own evangelical Protestant affiliation. I'm thoroughly persuaded that the doctrine of forensic justification by grace alone through faith alone is the only biblically defensible position. Beckwith would obviously disagree.

4) Social - The growing secularization of society, together with the diminishing influence of the evangelical church, have led many to Rome. They often find in the RCC a stabilizing anchor and unified front to fight the battle against the paganizing of culture.

Somewhat related to this is the disappointment such "converts" feel with the evident divisive and schismatic nature of much of Protestantism. The proliferation of denominations and the incessant internecine warfare that keeps them separate is disturbing to these Catholic converts and indicates a serious failure to take seriously the call for unity issued by Jesus in John 17 and Paul in Ephesians 4 (among other texts).

Of course, one must also reckon with the theological fragmentation that exists in Catholicism and the various "catholicisms" that one can easily identify around the globe.

5) Personal - Many Protestants point to their bad experience in the church, often citing an oppressive and legalistic fundamentalism. The appeal of papal infallibility, as over against the theological schisms in Protestantism, offers a stability in which their souls/minds might find rest in an uncertain and irrational age.

One particular personal dimension to Beckwith's decision was his reference to the place of virtue and holiness in the Christian life. He evidently fears there is an intrinsic tendency toward antinomianism in Protestantism that fails to highlight the necessity of good works, not so much as the ground of salvation but as the necessary expression of it. I can only say that I think this reflects a woefully deficient view of the relationship between faith and works. Anyone who thinks that the Scriptures minimize the importance of the ethical transformation of those who have embraced Christ as Lord and Savior simply do not understand the teaching of God's Word.

In this post and the next I want to briefly address the delicate relationship (or lack thereof) between Roman Catholics and Protestant Evangelicals. Both of these entries were previously posted on my website under Studies in Roman Catholic Theology, but in view of Beckwith's "conversion" I thought they might be worth both slight expansion and deeper consideration.

Notwithstanding the efforts of ECT (Evangelicals and Catholics Together), the divisions between Catholicism and Protestantism are long-standing and the reasons multi-faceted. Whereas the vast majority of Protestants remain suspicious of Roman Catholicism, a few, often well-known figures (e.g., Richard John Neuhaus, Thomas Howard, Scott Hahn, and now Beckwith), find a home in Rome. Here are some observations on why most evangelical Protestants are suspicious of Rome, and are disturbed by Beckwith's decision.

By the way, the following are merely observations. I make no attempt to determine whether or not these evangelical fears are justified or misguided.

(1) Many Protestant evangelicals are energized by the Protestant martyrs of the reformation and post-reformation period: Hus, Cranmer, Tyndale, Hugh Latimer, Ridley, etc. They fear that dialogue with the RCC is a disservice and dishonor to those who gave their lives for their convictions. They were tortured and died for their refusal to embrace the RC Mass or bow to papal authority. ECT, for example, represents for many evangelicals a tacit dismissal of such heroes of the faith: "Are we selling out those who sacrificed so much? Why are we willing to compromise so easily on matters that were to them a question of life and death?"

(2) Evangelicals fear the loss of theological integrity. They believe that the only way to enter a dialogue with Rome is by compromising on several key theological issues. Most evangelicals believe that unity is theologically based. Cooperative efforts must be grounded in theological consensus. Is this biblical? Is it feasible?

(3) Many evangelicals are afraid of liturgy and ritual. They are put off by the external trappings of the RCC and believe them to be a threat to the simplicity, genuineness, freedom and spontaneity of faith in Jesus. Perhaps they grew up Catholic or know someone who is Catholic and are personally aware of the potential of relying on a religious ritual devoid of spiritual substance. A biblically based theology of symbol and sacrament would go a long way in diminishing such fears.

(4) Evangelicals often fear that RC theology and practice detract from a single-minded focus on Jesus. Devotion to Mary, praying the rosary, penance, confession, etc. strike them as distractions from and perhaps substitutions for the worship of the Son of God alone (Solo Christo). Associated with this is their belief that Catholics are obsessed with the Pope, a mere man (as evidenced by the deference shown him, the honorific titles given him, and the habit of bowing in his presence or the kissing of his hand, foot, ring, etc.).

(5) Evangelicals are concerned that the RC concept of justification, doing penance, the doctrine of Purgatory, and the Mass, etc., detract from, and perhaps even deny, the centrality and sufficiency of divine grace (Sola Gratia). This raises the question of whether or not justification by faith alone (Sola Fide) is itself the gospel.

(6) Evangelicals tend to be individualistic in their faith. Thus they do not like being told what to do and what not to do. They fear that papal authority and the magisterium of the church would rob them of their freedom as Christians. In other words, evangelicals are quite serious about the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer and the concept of "soul competency".

(7) The single most basic reason for evangelical reluctance toward ECT, as well as concerns with Beckwith's decision and other forms of dialogue or ecumenical activity, is their suspicion that Catholics are not saved. The question they ask themselves is: "How can someone be born again who denies Sola Scriptura, who puts their trust in the propitiatory sacrifice of the mass, who grants such high privilege and power to both the Pope on earth and Mary in heaven, who believes that salvation is, at minimum, a cooperative effort of God and man?"

This suspicion casts a long shadow over all efforts at dialogue between evangelical and Catholic. Of course, the crucial question here is whether or not Catholics, in fact, believe what evangelicals think they believe? It would appear that open and honest and prolonged dialogue is at this point absolutely essential.

In the next post I'll briefly address why some evangelical Protestants, such as Beckwith, convert to Catholicism.

The first fifteen of my Meditations on the Psalms are also now available on the website in the Biblical Studies section.

(1) “Whatever meaning atonement might have, it would be a grave error to imagine that it focused on assuaging God’s anger or winning God’s merciful attention” (51).

(2) “The Scriptures as a whole provide no ground for a portrait of an angry God needing to be appeased in atoning sacrifice” (51).

(3) “Undoubtedly the widespread popularity of penal substitutionary atonement is built in part on the base of human fear of God, combined with the perceived necessity of placating an emotion-laden God ever on the verge of striking out against any who disobey his every will” (53).

(4) They argue that for Paul “wrath is not a divine property or essential attribute of God” (54). Rather, wrath is “the active presence of God’s judgment toward ‘all ungodliness and wickedness’ (Rom. 1:18). The wrath of God is not vindictive indignation or the anger of divine retribution, but the divine response to human unfaithfulness” (54).

(5) The Bible knows nothing of “divine anger” or “retributive justice” in that these ideas assume something in God’s nature that must be transformed or altered.

(6) The “wrath to come” (1 Thess. 1:9-10) simply “refers to the climactic, end-time scene of judgment when those who prefer to worship idols rather than the living God receive the fruits of their own misplaced hopes and commitments” (54). If you are thinking carefully you will want to ask of them: Whose “judgment”? Why judgment? Receive from whom? What “fruits”?

(7) Again, observe how Green and Baker are given to caricature: In Romans 1 “Paul has nothing to do with an emotion-laden God who strikes out in frustration or vengeance against we who are implicated in sin” (55). Thus “wrath” in Romans 1 is little more (perhaps nothing more) than “letting us go our own way” (55).

(8) Since “sin” can never be understood as something private or individualistic “the soteriological effects of Jesus’ death must be understood in relational, communal and even cosmological terms” (56).

(9) Again, “Paul’s portrait of God is not that of an angry deity requiring mollification. Divine wrath is not an affective quality or ‘feeling’ on the part of God. Rather, it is a means of underscoring how seriously God takes sin. . . . Whatever else can be made of Paul’s understanding of the death of Jesus, his theology of the cross lacks any developed sense of divine retribution” (56).

(10) Again, they ridicule PSA as advocating the idea that Christ was punished “by execution on the cross so as to satisfy the rancor of God” (63).

There are yet other problems with this view of the atonement, say Green and Baker. Penal substitution creates severe missiological problems because different people have differing notions of justice, guilt, sacrifice, and salvation. This view of Christ’s death will be simply unintelligible to them.

Penal substitution, say Green and Baker, encourages passive tolerance of abuse. If the one perfect child, Jesus, passively submits to being punished by the Father, does this not encourage or endorse masculine abuse of those over whom they exercise authority and power? Does not PSA have the potential for sanctioning sexual and domestic abuse and for approving of passivity in the face of injustice?

In conclusion, the authors of this volume are persuaded that “a gospel that is focused on salvation for persons whose sin, or need for salvation, is understood solely or primarily in autobiographical terms can hardly be said to subvert the individualism and self-centeredness so characteristic of our social environment. A gospel that allows me to think of my relationship with God apart from the larger human family and the whole cosmos created by God – can it be said that this gospel is any gospel at all?” (213-14).

They conclude that “the popular fascination with and commitment to penal substitutionary atonement has had ill effects in the life of the church in the United States and has little to offer the global church and mission by way of understanding or embodying the message of Jesus Christ” (220-21).

Let me be blunt. I consider this book and its arguments to be evil and pernicious and a threat to the integrity and truth of the biblical gospel. I have no way of assessing the motives of its authors. I can only respond to the substance of what they have written, and I find it abhorrent and a serious deviation from the biblical revelation of how and why the death of Jesus saves sinners.

They believe people today are drawn to this concept of the atonement for two reasons (each of which has several sub-points).

First, they point to our view of justice and its orientation toward guilt and innocence (in which the assigning of legal “blame” and the infliction of “punishment” are taken for granted as “the way the world works”).

They also point to its orientation toward “autobiography”, i.e., the idea that individuals commit acts of transgression for which each must be examined and punished. This is the fruit of a worldview in which “people were looked upon principally in an atomistic way – as individuals, not as persons embedded within social systems” (25). A theory such as penal substitution preserves and supports such thinking insofar as it locates “responsibility (or fault or blame) primarily at the level of the individual” (25).

If I may interject at this point, it escapes me how a recognition of “persons as embedded within social systems” would in any way alleviate their personal responsibility for sins or crimes committed. And yes, I confess, my understanding of biblical justice entails belief in guilt and innocence, blame and punishment. The fact that we are not isolated, atomistic, individuals but live inescapably socially embedded lives is in no way inconsistent with the concept of individual guilt and innocence.

In their discussion of Luke’s writings they insist “that the salvation of which Luke writes may appear to us, erroneously, to be focused on individual persons. ‘Forgiveness of sins’ has come to be associated with individual salvation in our world, when in fact divine pardon is a profoundly social occasion. . . . Forgiveness and reconciliation are fundamentally social realities” (73).

What could this possibly mean? Yes, it is true that my reconciliation with God and the forgiveness of my sins will radically affect my relationship with others and my zeal for corporate and social justice. No, I should never think of my forgiveness as exclusively mine, as if it were not true that God is saving a people, a body of believers, a corporate community we call the church. But the fact remains that no one can be forgiven in my place nor can I believe on someone else’s behalf. Each of us will stand before the judgment seat of Christ and give an account for our individual deeds, many of which, no doubt, relate directly to the larger body of believers as well as those who never put their faith in Christ.

One other factor contributing to the contemporary appeal of penal substitution, so they say, is the doctrine of justification by faith. This dominant soteriological model of western Protestantism has an individualistic orientation and “bias” (25) that focuses on the verdict of “not guilty!” PSA, argue Greene and Baker, “provides a workable foundation for this Soteriology, making this atonement theory all the more palatable or inviting” (25).

Second, the doctrine of PSA is appealing because it “gives us permission to disregard the suffering of Jesus” (25). With its focus on the sufferings of Jesus on the cross in our place or “for us”, the sufferings of Jesus endured in the course of his life and to which he calls us as disciples (Mark 8:27-38) are conveniently ignored.

I don’t know whether to call this silly or absurd, or both. The truth of Christ Jesus enduring God’s wrath in our stead “gives us permission to disregard the suffering” Jesus endured in the course of his life!?! Because Jesus suffered “for us” on the cross we can conveniently ignore his earthly life!?!

The incarnation, humiliation, life, death, and bodily resurrection of Christ cannot be so easily pulled apart. They do not compete one with another, as if apart from his humiliation we may speak meaningfully of his incarnation, or apart from his resurrection we may make sense of his death. The suffering and rejection he endured throughout the course of his life were preparatory to and consummated in his death on a cross. “Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. And being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him” (Hebrews 5:8-9). If anything, it is the joy and delight that flow from knowing he has endured a wrath we deserved that liberates our hearts from selfish disregard for others and empowers and motivates us to embrace the way of his life and the inevitable humiliation and suffering that following “in his steps” (1 Peter 2:21) necessarily entails.

The authors proceed to ask several questions. Is PSA biblical, i.e., is it faithful to the text? Could it be that PSA speaks not so much to our culture but actually grows out of it? “In what ways is the theory of penal substitution shaped by the Western culture in which it has grown and gained its popularity?” (29). Can penal substitution thrive in our postmodern world which is challenging our traditional concepts of a) individualism (“in favor of a communal accounting of human nature,” 29); b) autobiographical justice (“in favor of systems theory, including the determinative role of genes and family experience in human behavior,” 29); and c) the existence and progress of an autonomous humanity (“in favor of a portrait of the human family that locates humanity within the cosmos, so that the predicament and soteriology must account for creation as a whole,” 29)?

Furthermore, if PSA is in fact a cultural product of the west, perhaps this explains why the gospel has elicited such little positive response in other social worlds and among people “for whom guilt is a non-issue” (29).

Finally, they insist that PSA is subject to misunderstanding and bizarre caricature” (30). This latter point is somewhat ironic in that Green and Baker engage in repeated caricature of PSA, portraying it in extreme and deliberately offensive terms evidently to evoke as negative an emotional response as possible. Although they try to make it appear that this is what “others” (30) say of PSA, this book as a whole indicates that such is in fact their own perspective. If it were not, one wonders why they make no effort to correct such caricatures and misrepresentations. Here are a few examples of the way they speak of this model of the atonement:

(1) It represents a startling drama “in which God takes on the role of the sadist inflicting punishing, while Jesus, in his role as masochist, readily embraces suffering” (30). Yes, you read it correctly: God the Father is a sadist and Jesus is a masochist!

(2) PSA seems to reflect “divine child abuse” (31). Yes, again, you read that correctly.

(3) They also argue that proponents of PSA undermine the need for ethical transformation. After all, if Jesus has endured our suffering and we are “not guilty” then “what basis for moral behavior remains?” (31). They ask, “what significance has the cross of Christ for faith and life?” (31). PSA “has little to offer” ethically. I.e., “it is so objective, so outside of us (and in a sense outside of God) that what changes through the cross is a legal ruling. According to the logic of the model, an individual could be saved through penal substitution without experiencing a fundamental reorientation of his or her life” (149).

Aside from the remarkable theological naiveté of that final statement (is there no awareness of the relationship between justification and sanctification?), I ask those of you reading this: What effect does the righteous dying in the place of the unrighteous have on your heart? Does God’s declaration of “Not Guilty” concerning you, on the basis of his declaration of “Guilty” concerning Christ, suffering and dying in your stead, empower or undermine your passion to serve others and to give sacrificially to the needs of the hurting, the homeless, and the disenfranchised?

(4) This view of the atonement, so they say, “has had little voice in how we relate to one another in and outside of the church or in larger, social-ethical issues” (31). Penal substitution, they contend, has little or nothing to say about racial reconciliation, wealth and poverty, or our relationship to the cosmos.

I, on the other hand, cannot imagine anything more foundational to social justice and our broader ethical responsibilities than the truth that Jesus was “smitten by God, and afflicted, . . . wounded for our transgressions . . . [and] crushed for our iniquities” (Isa. 53:4b-5a). But then, that’s me.

To be continued . . .

Bob resigned from Wheaton in the spring of 2000. In the fall of 2000, when I took a position teaching theology at Wheaton College, I was assigned one of Bob's most popular classes, Christian Traditions. In fact, it is doubtful that there would have been a position available for me had Bob not decided to leave Wheaton and join the faculty at Northern Baptist Seminary in nearby Lombard, Illinois. I felt hopelessly inadequate to fill his shoes in this course, but thoroughly enjoyed giving it my best shot.

Bob was a frequent visitor on the Wheaton campus following his departure. He was often seen in Saga (the college cafeteria), sharing a meal with students or former colleagues. It was always a blessing when he showed up at some of our department social gatherings. I didn't get to know him extremely well, but always enjoyed his vibrant approach to life and theology. No, I didn't agree with everything he taught, but that didn't prevent me from learning much from him.

Perhaps the most surprising thing about Bob was his age. Those who met him for the first time were often asked how old they thought he was. Typically they would say, "Probably mid-fifties." Bob was 74 when he passed away! He was one of the most youthful and energetic men you'd ever want to meet. Yes, he was controversial and provocative, but his love for God, the Church, and the academy can never be questioned. I will miss him.

I suspect some people may get really excited when they hear that this planet is comparatively close to the Earth, a mere 20.5 light years away. However, if you’re thinking about booking a flight to Gliese 581 c (which is what astronomers are calling it, for the time being), I’ve got bad news for you. Although 20.5 light years doesn’t sound very far, it comes out at approximately 120,000,000,000,000 miles (that’s 120 trillion miles)!

How far is that, you ask? Well, if you were inclined to travel non-stop (24 hours a day, 365 days a year) in a normal jet airliner at about 500 mph, it would only take 30,000,000 years until you arrived. That’s right, 30 million years! Even if you could book passage on the space shuttle and travel at 15,000 mph it would still take 1,000,000 years to get there.

One more thing to remember is that this planet orbits its star every 13 days (not 365 days like we do our Sun) and its gravity is 1.6x more than that of Earth. So, assuming you could last long enough to reach your destination you would get old and obese really fast! In fact, a 150 lb. individual would feel as if he were 240 lb. on this “habitable” planet. I can’t speak for you, but I think I’ll stay put!

Happy traveling!

Sam

“But why give yourself to yet another controversy, Sam?” Good question. Let’s remember that the church has never been without controversy. Throughout its history, virtually every tenet of faith, regardless of importance, has come under attack. Some of these theological battles were not worth fighting, while others demanded immediate and decisive attention.

Make no mistake: beliefs matter. “Bad theology,” said J. I. Packer, “hurts people.” It is also true that some beliefs matter more than others. Some doctrines, such as that of the Trinity, the deity of Christ, and the nature of salvation are worthy of debate and precise thinking. Heresy is not always a bad word, for it identifies what is false that we might see and embrace what is true.

We’ve witnessed several theological controversies in the past decade that were more than deserving of our careful and devoted attention. The debate over Open Theism is a case in point. I’m convinced that the discussion over the nature of Christ’s sacrifice is even more crucial and can be ignored only to the serious detriment of the Church. This is an issue that threatens the integrity and substance of the gospel itself and thus puts the souls of men and women in eternal danger. I know that sounds alarmist and extreme, but I still believe it’s true.

Needless to say, I’m deeply disturbed by the increasing trend among those who claim to be evangelical Christians of denying, indeed mocking, the doctrine of the penal substitutionary sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

These folk are not denying that Jesus died on a cross. Nor are they suggesting that the gospel can exist apart from what Jesus did on behalf of sinners in his life, death, and resurrection. What they are denying, with ever-increasing frequency and fervency, is that in his death he was a vicarious substitute for sinners, personally bearing and exhausting in himself the punishment warranted by our transgressions. What they are denying is that he endured the wrath of God and thereby satisfied the demands of divine justice on behalf of those for whom he suffered.

Numerous books are taking up this denial that Christ endured and satisfied the wrath of God against sin, but the one that seems to have provoked the debate and is most often cited as a source for those who embrace its perspective is the volume by Joel B. Greene and Mark D. Baker, “Recovering the Scandal of the Cross: Atonement in New Testament & Contemporary Contexts” (IVP, 2000, 232pp.).

One of the more puzzling things is that InterVarsity Press chose to publish this book. IVP has for years been viewed as a standard-bearer for evangelical publishing. It’s unsettling to me that they have lent the otherwise long-standing credibility of their name to a book of such horrendous theological content.

In the next installment I want to provide a brief summary of the book so that you can see what is being said concerning the death of Christ. I will also make reference, when appropriate, to other books that have followed the lead of Greene and Baker in their denial of penal substitutionary atonement (hereafter PSA). Then, secondly, I’ll work progressively through the book, The Nature of the Atonement (also published by IVP) in which Gregory Boyd, Tom Schreiner, Joel Greene, and Bruce Reichenbach address our theme.

Jimmy Draper is one of the true treasures of the Southern Baptist Convention. Having grown up in Oklahoma , where Dr. Draper pastored for many years, I have benefited greatly from his preaching and evangelistic zeal. However, I fear that this article tends to perpetuate a number of misconceptions about the nature and exercise of the spiritual gift of tongues.

Regardless of whether or not you believe that tongues is a valid gift for the church today, it is important that we all understand what the NT says about this spiritual gift. So, even if you are a cessationist (or, maybe especially if you are a cessationist!), I invite you to join me in this exploration.

(1) I’ll begin with Draper’s belief that tongues is evangelistic in Acts 2 (by the way, since “tongues” is here envisioned as a single gift of the Spirit, I use the singular verb “is” rather than “are” throughout this study). He argues that the exercise of tongues in Acts 2, on the day of Pentecost, “resulted in thousands being saved.”

Actually, Acts 2 says no such thing. People did indeed hear “the mighty works of God” from those who spoke in tongues, but their conversion did not come until Peter openly proclaimed the gospel in vv. 14-36 (especially vv. 22-36). Acts 2:37 explicitly says that when the people “heard this,” i.e., Peter’s proclamation of the person and work of Jesus Christ, that they made inquiry about how to be saved. My point is simply that Draper, like so many others, makes the mistake of thinking that the gift of tongues was designed for use in evangelistic contexts. The fact is that tongues is never used evangelistically anywhere in the NT. This isn’t to say it could never be used in this way, only that the NT does not conceive evangelism as one of its functions.

Draper then says that tongues in 1 Corinthians resulted “in confusion and problems in the church.” This is only partially true and therefore somewhat misleading. The problem in Corinth wasn’t tongues but the immature, prideful and ambitious abuse of tongues on the part of the Corinthians. Let’s never forget that tongues is a good gift that God conceived and bestowed on his church for its edification. The problem is never one of any spiritual gift per se, but rather of those who misunderstand and misuse what God has graciously provided.

(2) Draper contends that when Cornelius (Acts 10) and the “disciples” in Ephesus (Acts 19) spoke in tongues it was “in a known language they had not learned.” But nowhere does the text say any such thing. Draper simply assumes that since tongues speech in Acts 2 was known languages that all other instances must also be. But the apostle Paul indicates that there are “various kinds” (or “species”) of tongues (1 Cor. 12:10,28) and a close study of 1 Corinthians 14 indicates that they are not always human languages previously unlearned by the speaker. So it is unwarranted to simply assume that such was the “kind” or “variety” of tongues spoken in Acts 10 and 19.

Furthermore, the reason why tongues speech in Acts 2 was human languages is due to the presence there of unbelievers of differing dialects. But the only people present in Acts 10 and 19 to hear the tongues speech were Christians. Clearly, then, tongues had no evangelistic purpose in these two instances.

(3) Draper concludes from the instances of tongues speech in Acts 10 and Acts 19 that “no evidence is found that anyone sought or prayed for the gift of speaking in other languages.” Instead, so he suggests, “every occurrence was the spontaneous work of the Holy Spirit.” But this leaves the impression that it would always be wrong for someone to seek after or pray for the gift of tongues. Yet Paul clearly exhorts the Christians at Corinth to pray for the gift of interpretation of tongues (1 Cor. 12:13). Indeed, he exhorts the Corinthians to “earnestly desire [or seek after] the spiritual gifts” (1 Cor. 14:1), one of which is speaking in tongues.

And there is no inconsistency between spiritual gifts being distributed according to the sovereign will of the Spirit (1 Cor. 12:11) and the responsibility of believers to seek after and pray for such gifts. God accomplishes all things according to his sovereign will (see Eph. 1:11), but that does not eliminate the need for humans to pray and pursue in accordance with biblical commands. This is a problem only for someone who believes that divine sovereignty eliminates or is inconsistent with human responsibility.

(4) Again, Draper says that in both Acts 10 and Acts 19 the tongues speech “was understood by those who heard them.” However, there isn’t anything to this effect in Acts 19. Nothing suggests that Paul or others who witnessed this event understood what was being said in tongues. They certainly understood what these “disciples” said when they prophesied, but that’s to be expected given the fact that prophecy is always something delivered in one’s native language.

As for Acts 10, we are told that those present “were hearing them speaking in tongues and extolling God” (v. 46). There’s no indication that they understood what was said in tongues, unless one insists that “extolling God” defines the content of what they spoke. More likely is that “extolling God” refers to a second, albeit related, proclamation that was delivered in their native language. The verb translated “extol” is used three times in Acts, only two of which refer to humans praising God. Aside from its use in Acts 10:46, it is used in Acts 19:17 where it has nothing to do with tongues but simply describes people extolling or praising Jesus in their normal language.

(5) Draper says that since tongues is not explicitly mentioned in other instances of conversion in Acts that “its lack of importance as an ongoing ministry” is indicated. This sort of argument from silence proves little, if anything at all. How many times is it necessary for a gift to be mentioned for it to be a valid expression of spiritual life? Outside of 1 Corinthians the ordinance of the Lord’s Supper is never mentioned in Paul’s epistles. Would Draper want us to conclude from this that Communion is therefore unimportant? I suspect that any number of other examples could also be cited. The simple fact is that tongues is mentioned three times in Acts and numerous times in 1 Corinthians 12-14. That it is not the most important gift or ministry is obvious. Who would suggest it is? But that doesn’t give us grounds for ignoring, marginalizing, or neglecting it altogether.

(6) Again, Draper says that since, aside from Acts, only 1 Corinthians mentions tongues “it certainly means that speaking in tongues was not a major factor in the spread of the Gospel or in the practice of the apostolic church.” But as noted above, if I may use Draper’s own words, “in the 22 books of the New Testament that follow Acts, only 1 Corinthians mentions” the Lord’s Supper. What are we to conclude from that? Nothing, aside from the fact that since Paul’s instruction on the Lord’s Table was so clear and decisive in 1 Corinthians there was no need to mention it repeatedly in his other letters. Are we not warranted in concluding from the lack of reference to tongues in his other epistles that this gift was not a problem in those churches and that Paul’s guidelines for its exercise as given in 1 Corinthians were sufficient for the life and ministry of believers in other congregations? I think so.

Furthermore, there is not the slightest indication anywhere in the NT that tongues was designed by God to be “a major factor in the spread of the Gospel.” Tongues were not evangelistic!

(7) Draper thinks it is highly significant that Paul did not mention tongues in his list of spiritual gifts in Romans 12 and Ephesians 4. He argues from this that “we must conclude that the gift of tongues was either not a matter of importance, or that it was not practiced by the Christians in Rome, Ephesus and elsewhere.”

In the first place, virtually all NT scholars acknowledge that no NT epistle contains an exhaustive list of all spiritual gifts. Whether 1 Corinthians 12, Romans 12, Ephesians 4, or 1 Peter 4, what we have are representative lists, not comprehensive ones.

In Romans 12 Paul only mentions seven spiritual gifts, yet all acknowledge that there are a minimum of nineteen gifts listed in the NT. So, would Draper have us believe that these twelve gifts that Paul doesn’t mention were unimportant or, worse still, non-existent in the church at Rome ? In Ephesians 4 only five gifts are mentioned (some scholars believe it is only four). So, I suppose on Draper’s logic that fifteen spiritual gifts were absent for the church in Ephesus or were deemed unimportant by the apostle.

(8) I applaud Draper’s statement that spiritual gifts are not rewards for spiritual maturity or achievement and that the gifts were distributed for the good of the entire body of believers. But let’s not forget that among those gifts distributed for “the common good” (1 Cor. 12:7) of the body were “tongues” and “interpretation of tongues” (1 Cor. 12:7-10; see especially 1 Cor. 14:26 where the purpose of tongues and their interpretation is explicitly said to be the “building up” of the body of Christ).

(9) Concerning 1 Corinthians 12-14, Draper rightly notes that Paul’s concern was with the “abuse of tongues.” He says that “care was given to regulate and restrict the use of tongues in the church and not to encourage their use.” This is only partly correct. Paul certainly regulated the use of tongues in the corporate gathering of the church. His instruction is unmistakable: in the absence of an interpreter, there is to be no speaking in tongues in the corporate assembly. But this isn’t to say he didn’t “encourage their use.” If there is an interpreter, Paul is happy for tongues to be expressed in the corporate assembly (see 1 Cor. 14:5). That is why he encourages the one with the gift of tongues to pray that God would also impart the gift of interpretation, that is, so that tongues could be used properly in the assembly for the edification of all present.

If Paul didn’t want to encourage the use of interpreted tongues in the corporate assembly, then why did he give the Corinthians this explicit word of instruction: “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up” (1 Cor. 14:26)?

(10) It is also misleading for Draper to say that according to 1 Cor. 14:4 “tongues edifies only the person speaking.” Paul is talking about uninterpreted tongues (cf. v. 2). This is clear upon reading v. 5 where he says that if the tongues speech is interpreted the church is edified. So, it is true that only the tongues speaker is edified if he speaks in private or if his public speech remains uninterpreted. But with interpretation, the tongues speech becomes a means for the edification and building up of the entire body of Christ.

(11) Draper also says that the gift of prophecy entails expounding “the Word of God” and “proclaiming the Gospel.” But prophecy is not preaching. Prophecy is speaking forth in human words a spontaneous revelation that comes from God. This is clear from what Paul says in 1 Cor. 14:24-25 and especially in 14:30,32.

(12) He also argues that “women are not to speak in tongues at any time in the church.” But this would be strange indeed, given that women clearly prophesied in church (1 Cor. 11:4ff.). A closer examination reveals that the sort of speaking that Paul prohibits is the passing of judgment on prophetic utterances (most likely because this would be an exercise of authority by women inconsistent with Paul’s instruction concerning male headship in the church and home). I encourage the reader to consult my more in-depth analysis of this passage (1 Cor. 14:34-35) at my website, www.SamStorms.com (it is in the Biblical Studies section under Deciphering Difficult Texts).

(13) Draper believes the reason Paul prohibited women from speaking in tongues was because it would be “too similar to the temple prostitutes’ ecstatic frenzies as they practiced their pagan, immoral rituals.” But there isn’t so much as a word in 1 Corinthians to indicate this was in Paul’s thinking. Tongues is nowhere portrayed as being “ecstatic” or entailing any degree of “frenzy”. Be it noted that contrary to what some believe, the word “ecstatic” is never used of tongues in the NT. You may find it in some English translations but it is utterly absent from the Greek text. Paul portrays those who speak in tongues as capable of starting and stopping at will (1 Cor. 14:15-19, 27-28, 40), hardly the sort of thing one associates with uncontrolled ecstasy or frenzy.

(14) Draper believes “one thing is clear: pre-occupation with tongues-speaking is childish (14:20).” Again, this is misleading. Tongues-speaking per se isn’t childish. It’s a good and glorious gift of God. Nor is a desire to possess this gift a sign of immaturity. What Paul characterizes as childish and immature is (a) the belief that tongues (above and beyond other gifts) was a sign of heightened spirituality and (b) the determination on the part of some in Corinth to dominate the meeting with uninterpreted tongues speech.

(15) Finally, Draper says (and I agree) that “spiritual gifts are divinely bestowed by our sovereign God. He can give the gifts as He pleases and to whom He pleases.” But I’m concerned when he goes on to say that “no one can ‘develop’ a gift or be ‘taught’ how to exercise a gift.”

If what Draper means by this is that no one can do anything to induce or persuade God to grant a gift contrary to his sovereign will, of course I agree. But I want to make sure that he does not mean to suggest that once a gift is bestowed that we cannot develop, grow, improve and be instructed on how to use it more effectively. This would apply to virtually all gifts, such as the gift of evangelism, or the gift of leadership, or the gift of giving, or any and every spiritual gift. If Christians can’t be “taught” how to exercise a gift, what are we doing offering courses in homiletics (preaching) in our colleges and seminaries? What are we doing offering seminars on how to more effectively share our faith with non-Christians? And the list could go on.

As you can see, I have some profound concerns with the way Dr. Draper has portrayed the gift of tongues in the NT. I hope my response has been helpful and above all else respectful in the way I have expressed my disagreement with him. Would that we all might live and serve the body of Christ as faithfully as Jimmy Draper has these many years!

 Sam