Jesus Is Worthy

[current book: Psalms]

In my post on the biblical foundation for missions, I mentioned the idea that Jesus is worthy of missions.

The more I've been chewing on this idea, the more I've encountered it in Scripture. I've already mentioned Psalm 2:

"He said to me, 'You are my Son; today I have become your Father.' Ask of me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession. You will rule them with an iron scepter; you will dash them to pieces like pottery" (Ps. 2:7b-9)

Then there's Psalm 82:

"Rise up, O God, judge the earth, for all the nations are your inheritance" (Ps. 82:8).

Or how about Revelation 5?

"And they sang a new song: 'You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because you were slain, and with your blood you purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation" (Rev. 5:9).

In the first two passages, the nations are called the Lord's inheritance. This means that when we go into the world as missionaries, we get to participate in Jesus' reclamation of what is already his: the praise and worship of every "nation, tribe, people, and language" (Rev. 7:9). What a check against pride this is. While it is exciting to lead lost peoples to faith, we can never claim the fruit of missions as our own. These fruits have belonged to Jesus since the foundation of the world. And if this is so, they are his completely regardless of our efforts.

The third passage underscores this notion. Why is Jesus the only one worthy to open the scroll? Because he—not us—purchased men from every tongue and tribe. Missions is Jesus' way of bringing glory to himself, reaffirming that he, not we, is worthy of it.

Sometimes I wonder whether my attitude toward missions is the attitude of the thousands of young men who volunteered for service in the two World Wars. At least according to the common cinema stereotype, many of these recruits joined their cause in search of thrills, often naïve about what they were truly fighting for.

Certainly, missions is a war, and its cause is absolutely just. But how wrong my heart is if I sign up for the ranks because my priority is my own pleasure. Instead, any zeal should come from the knowledge that Jesus is worthy of my time, my energy, my efforts, and my heart, because Jesus is worthy of missions.

Besides, if I devote myself to the fame of my God rather than the furtherance of my thrills, might I not find thrills in the process? Does not Paul, discarding what was to his profit, compare following Jesus to an impassioned race that ends in glory (Phil. 3:13-14, 2 Tim. 4:7-8)? Alternatively, I like to think of how Paul describes in Romans that humanity is captive to sin (Rom. 7:15-24). Now, instead of missions being about earning another notch on my belt of conceit, it instead becomes a selfless sacrifice: if the world is captive, should we not pity it? And are not believers part of a great, hair-raising rescue mission, working behind enemy lines to save as many of our brothers and sisters as possible? If one pairs this passion to dependence on Christ, missions becomes the opposite of arrogance while still being exciting to boot. How amazing that, though we don't deserve it, Jesus sometimes allows us to experience joy in our service to him.

Above all, may my heart be humble. I think of Jesus' words in Luke 17:

"Suppose one of you had a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Would he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, 'Come along now and sit down to eat'? Would he not rather say, 'Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink'? Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, 'We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty'" (Lk. 17:7-10).

Missionaries are not some elite breed of Christians. They are unextraordinary servants stumbling in the service of an extraordinary God. And when a missionary's race has been run, may our unworthiness fade into his holiness to bring forth a song of eternal praise.

Old Testament Hermeneutics

[current book: Psalms]

By now I've made it through the Pentateuch (Genesis through Deuteronomy) and the historical books (Joshua through Esther) of the Old Testament. Presently, I'm progressing through the wisdom literature (Job through Song of Solomon) and will soon arrive at my one of my most beloved sections of Scripture, the Prophets.

At this point, I want to pause to discuss a subject that I am convinced is essential to understanding the often confusing chunk of writings we call the Old Testament, the issue of hermeneutics. 

Hermeneutics is a theological word whose project is to determine how Scripture ought to be interpreted. Granted, I know that sounds like a boring thing to scratch one's head over. But in reality, hermeneutics is devastatingly important. Like it or not, our hermeneutical assumptions are at work every time we read the Bible. When we read that God created in six days, do we take those six days literally or figuratively? When Jesus commanded his followers to eat his body and drink his blood, are we to understand him metaphorically or not? And is Revelation an outline of impending events or is it a non-futuristic book of worship, expressed through symbols and allegories? Each of these questions, hotly debated by theologians, must ultimately circle back to the general assumptions one employs when interpreting Scripture, a fact that emphasizes the importance of a hermeneutic that is carefully reasoned and spiritually guided.

I emphasize hermeneutics in the context of the Old Testament, because in my mind the comparative dearth of intensive, expositional preaching on the Old Testament from the pulpit has led not only to a general lack of familiarity with its content, but also a consequent carelessness in how we interpret that content. Instead, the New Testament has gained priority over the Old Testament, giving rise to theology that ignores central Old Testament doctrines that are foundational to a proper exegesis of the New Testament. The result is an erroneous New Testament theology that is then allowed to reinterpret Old Testament passages in a way that actually distorts those passages' intended meaning. The result of such a hermeneutic that forbids the Old Testament to speak for itself is a systematic theology that can neither make sense of Scripture holistically nor harmonize both testaments in tandem.

For this reason, I want to argue that a central principle of Old Testament hermeneutics is the notion that the Old Testament should not be reinterpreted in light of shortsighted New Testament theology. In order to demonstrate the importance of this principle, I turn to two Old Testament topics that illustrate my point.

1. Covenant

"Covenant" is one of the most theologically significant words in Scripture. Whenever the term "covenant" is employed, it refers to a binding set of stipulations and promises made between two particular parties. Of these, there are six covenants in which God is a party, all of which first appear in the Old Testament:

(1) The Noahic Covenant (Gen. 9:8-17)

(2) The Abrahamic Covenant (Gen. 12:1-3, Gen. 15:1-21, Gen. 17:1-21, Gen. 22:17-18, etc.)

(3) The Mosaic Covenant 

(4) The Priestly Covenant (Num. 25:11-13)

(5) The Davidic Covenant (2 Sa. 7:8-16, 2 Ch. 17:7-14)

(6) The New Covenant (Jer. 31:31-37)

While one could spend pages discussing these six in detail, it is crucial to understand (1) that each of the covenants is specific in their promises, in their audience, and in whether they are conditional or unconditional. Moreover, (2) these six covenants provide the framework for the entirety of God's plan as described in the Bible. For this reason, the way one interprets these covenants is of the utmost importance: failure to interpret them properly makes it impossible to understand God's plan in its fullness, including the most important aspects of that plan such as the nation of Israel, the cross of Christ, and the Day of Judgment.

As it happens, the interpretation of covenant is actually one of the most contentious issues in all of modern theology. While some theologians view Scripture in terms of the six covenants mentioned above, other theologians, based on the New Testament's dichotomy between works and grace, infer that all of God's dealings with humanity can be categorized into either a "Covenant of Works" or a "Covenant of Grace." For these theologians (called Covenant Theologians), an institution like the Law given at Sinai is an example of the former Covenant of Works. On the other hand, the undeserved sacrifice of Jesus on the cross is an example of the latter Covenant of Grace.

Though I can see how a contrast between works and grace does seem to be a byproduct of God's redemptive dealings, I submit that Scripture does not structure God's redemptive dealings in this way. Put another way, imposing a Covenant of Works and a Covenant of Grace over the six covenants delineated in Scripture is, I believe, an example of forcing a skewed reading of the New Testament over the Old in a way that distorts the Old's intended meaning. And in the process, the six biblical covenants are often glossed over.

If instead of subjecting the Old Testament to the man-made covenants of works and grace one allows the Old Testament to speak for itself, one sees that its six covenants actually provide the foundation for a proper understanding of the New Testament and indeed all of Scripture.

How does this work itself out practically? 

Take the New Covenant, the covenant that was inaugurated through Jesus' death and resurrection and which serves as the basis for our salvation. When Jesus announced that he was making a "New Covenant" in his blood, he was neither ignoring nor inventing his choice of words. He was making a very specific reference to the New Covenant spoken of by the prophet Jeremiah, with which every one of his Jewish listeners would have been familiar. A study of the New Covenant in its context in Jeremiah reveals that this covenant was not made to just anybody, and certainly not to Gentiles. Rather, the New Covenant was made explicitly with the house of Israel and Judah alone (Jer. 31:31), though thanks to Israel's rejection of her Messiah, the Gentiles have been grafted into this covenant by God's grace (Rom. 11:11-24, Eph. 3:4-6). Moreover, the New Covenant—for reasons I won't go into here—itself unfolds from the covenants before it, especially the Abrahamic Covenant. Thus, when Jesus, reclining at the Last Supper, promised that the inauguration of the New Covenant was near, he was acting within a redemptive framework that God had promised thousands of years before.

Hopefully, the example of the New Covenant (much less the covenants in general) underscores that a proper Old Testament hermeneutic does not distort the Old Testament's original meaning by constraining it within a falsely dichotomized New Testament framework but instead allows the Old Testament—especially its covenantal structure—to speak for itself.

2. Israel

A second Old Testament topic that demands hermeneutical accuracy concerns the identity of Israel. 

For example, take a passage like Ezekiel 37. In Ezekiel 37, Ezekiel sees a vision of a valley of dry bones that God brings back to life. On a first reading, it is tempting to see this vision as a metaphor for spiritual revival in the Church, and indeed, many churches would teach this interpretation. Yet in verse eleven Ezekiel is told that "these bones are the whole house of Israel" (Ezek. 37:11), suggesting that this vision has a specific fulfillment for a specific group of people.

Indeed, this is precisely the case. A study of the wider passage sets this vision in the context of a prophesied restoration of Israel. This restoration includes Israel's reacquisition of the land promised to Abraham and a mass acknowledgement of Jesus as Messiah. In fact, it is likely that this prophecy in Ezekiel 37 is what Paul refers to when he discusses Israel's restoration bringing "life from the dead" (Rom. 11:15). Yet if one uses a hermeneutic that allegorizes the term "Israel" in this passage, one completely misses Ezekiel's meaning.

This same principle could be discussed in light of innumerable Old Testament passages. In Joel where God promises to one day judge all nations for how they have treated his people Israel (Joel 3:1-3), he is not speaking allegorically about judging those who have persecuted the Church. When Joel says Israel, he means Israel. In Isaiah where God promises to "gather the exiles of Israel" and "assemble the scattered people of Judah from the four corners of the earth" (Is. 11:12), he is not referring to a metaphorical ingathering of believers. He is talking about the very thing we are seeing in our day: Jews from around the world returning to their homeland, as was prophesied more than two thousand years ago. Or—to use a verse frequently taken out of context—in Jeremiah when God tells the exiles, "'I know the plans I have for you,' ... 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future'" (Jer. 29:11), he is speaking first and foremost to Israel, even though I believe there is evidence elsewhere in Scripture that God knows the plans he has for every human being.

Nevertheless, it is still a common teaching that the term "Israel" should be reinterpreted to mean the Church. This hermeneutic derives from a doctrine called supersessionism, the belief that in light of the Jews' rejection of their Messiah, the Church has replaced Israel. Yet I submit not only that supersessionism is an incorrect doctrine but that to reinterpret Israelite language in the Old Testament to apply to the Church leads to a woeful misunderstanding of the Old Testament's intended meaning. In the same way that a husband would be a moral monster to promise marriage to one woman but then claim that he actually intended that promise for another woman, God did not make promises to Israel but then change his mind and reappropriate them to the Church. If the Church tries to claim Israel's promises for herself where there is no biblical basis for doing so, it will inevitably promulgate a faulty understanding not just of the Old Testament but of all of Scripture.

So. How does this deliciously esoteric blog post radically transform your life??

Let's say you're reading through the Pentateuch and you come to the part about God making a covenant with Abraham. You notice how gracious God is to Abraham, how God blesses weak, aged Abraham and barren, grouchy Sarah with a child they don't deserve. But don't just see this covenant as yet another example of what a nice guy God is. Rather, study this covenant throughout Scripture to see how it serves as an essential foundation for all of God's redemptive plan, much of which has yet to be fulfilled.

Or let's say you're reading through the Prophets. You come to the part in Zephaniah where God says, "Sing, O Daughter of Zion; shout aloud, O Israel! Be glad and rejoice with all your heart, O Daughter of Jerusalem! ... At that time I will gather you; at that time I will bring you home. I will give you honor and praise among all the peoples of the earth when I restore your fortunes before your very eyes" (Zeph. 3:14, 20). Don't immediately read yourself into this passage and conclude that its primary meaning is to show how gracious God is to sinners. God is gracious to sinners, but in this passage in Zephaniah he is referring to a specific spatiotemporal event yet future when he will restore the fortunes of Israel, in alignment with the very particular promises he established in the covenants and confirmed in the Prophets.

All that to say: how you interpret Scripture is important. May God continue to guide us into the everlasting truth of his Word!

Update & Scriptural Basis for Missions

Here goes nothing!—my very first video blog...

Watch to hear (1) an update on how my fundraising has been going and (2) what the Bible says about missions.

How Dare We Blaspheme Our Brothers

[current book: 2 Samuel]

The book of 2 Samuel begins with David's lament for Jonathan and Saul, slain in battle in the previous chapter.

It's easy to understand why David would weep for Jonathan, his dearest friend who "loved him as himself" (1 Sam. 18:1). But Saul was a jerk. Disobedient to God, murderous toward David, and moody besides, it is astonishing to read that David would grieve the man who had chased him into caves and stymied him from inheriting his rightful kingship promised by God.

So why the tears?

Because David, his heart after God's, saw Saul as God saw Saul. Saul was a slimeball. But he was also God's anointed, whose authority, however undeserved, had been given him from above. Hence in 1 Samuel 26, David rebukes Joab's brother Abishai for threatening Saul's life:

"But David said to Abishai, 'Don't destroy him! Who can lay a hand on the Lord's anointed and be guiltless? As surely as the Lord lives,' he said, 'the Lord himself will strike him; either his time will come and he will die, or he will go into battle and perish. But the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on the Lord's anointed" (1 Sam. 26:9-11a).

David gets not only that justice is the Lord's but that he himself can bring no charge against him whom God has chosen—not because of Saul's merits but because of God's choice. Later, God would indeed judge Saul. But that's just it: God would judge. Not David.

My point is that David's attitude toward Saul should be ours toward our fellow believers. Just as Saul was chosen by God, so every believer is chosen by God. And in fact, this latter choice surpasses the former, in that whereas Saul was chosen to be sovereign, believers are chosen to be saved. How much more, then, could Paul, writing from the zenith of all Christian theology, later say, "Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies" (Rom. 8:33).

Paul's point was that no matter how flawed and broken a Christian is, that person has been made righteous in God's sight. When God looks at him, he no longer sees sin. He sees a child of God, the righteousness of Jesus, a believer for whom Christ died. So often, we think that "Christian" = "someone well-behaved." But this is blasphemy. There is no one "well-behaved" (Is. 64:6, Ps. 53:2-3, Rom. 3:23). The definition of a Christian is: "GOD CHOSE YOU." And if God has chosen a man, there can therefore be no charge against him.

How dare we judge our brother. Jesus Christ is standing before the Father professing—I almost imagine him jumping up and down joyously shouting—the name of every single beloved believer written in the Lamb's book of life. When we accuse, when we judge, when we say even the tiniest tittle against a fellow sibling in Christ, what are we trying to do but tear down Jesus himself from his triumphant place of intercession before a holy God?

When Bonhoeffer lived at Finkenwalde Seminary, he made a rule that no one could talk about another person in that person's absence.¹ Extreme? Perhaps. But I like this idea. It certainly guarded against gossip. For just as David said "the Lord forbid that I should lay a hand on the Lord's anointed," so do I say, "the Lord forbid that I should blaspheme my brother."

¹Renate Wind, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Spoke in the Wheel, trans. John Bowden, (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1992), 102.