Archive for May 2007
Does God Have Enemies?
Over at the Christianity Today website, Mark Dever answers this question using the Old Testament prophet Obadiah.
Who Will Review the Reviewers?
Recently, a spate of books has been published that extol the virtues of atheism and excoriate the vices of religion: Richard Dawkins’s The God Delusion, Sam Harris’s Letters to a Christian Nation, and now Christopher Hitchens’s God Is Not Great. Having perused a couple of these books myself, my conclusion is that these men are clever writers but far from clear thinkers. If the village atheist had a Ph.D. in biology, a witty pen, anger management issues, and an unfamiliarity with contemporary work in the philosophy of religion, he would write these books. If not, he would leave well enough alone.
Unfortunately, the men who review these books are often as ignorant about religion as the men who write them, and praise books that deserve to be roundly mocked. Robert T. Miller picks up the problem of ignorant reviewers reviewing ignorant writers on the First Things blog:
Here’s the latest example of a fascinating, though depressing, cultural phenomenon. A fellow who clearly knows nothing about a deep and difficult intellectual problem produces a manuscript purporting to resolve the problem definitively. Such a fellow is a crank, you might think, and will quite properly be ignored. But, no, he actually finds a publisher for his book, and a respected one at that. Even more surprisingly, the New York Times commissions a review of the book from a famous columnist, and, instead of exposing the book for the ignorant twaddle that it is, the columnist writes a glowing review. How does this happen?
Read the whole thing to find out how Michael Kinsley ended up reviewing Christopher Hitchens and making a fool of himself in the process.
Worthy! (Revelation 5.7–10)
John wept because no one was able “to open the scroll and break its seals.” Then one of heaven’s twenty-four elders comforted him with the arrival of God’s Lion-Lamb, who approached the throne and took the seven-sealed scroll. With that action, worship once again breaks loose in heaven.
Look, for a moment, at what takes place (Rev. 5:7-10): “the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb, each holding a harp, and golden bowls full of incense, which are the prayers of the saints.” I have sometimes heard an alcoholic referred to as a “stumble-down drunk.” It seems to me, based on how often the denizens of heaven fall on their knees in adoration, that we might accurately describe them as “stumble-down worshipers,” although they are of course filled with the Holy Spirit, not with wine (Eph. 5.18).
Somehow, in spite of their prone position, they manage to sing and pray. And what a song it is!
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 earth.
Not only does this song express the elders’ and angels’ adoration, it also manages to instruct us in the saving work of Christ.
We are informed, first of all, that Jesus Christ is worthy to reveal God’s plan for the ages because of his death on the cross. We have already pointed out the connection between cross and crown, but it is worth reiterating: The regal lion is worthy to open the scroll precisely because he is also the sacrificial Lamb of God.
Second, we are told that Jesus Christ ransomed people by his blood. This introduces a new element. The idea of a ransom is the price given to a kidnapper to free a hostage. Spiritually speaking, we have been kidnapped by the devil, but so greatly does God love us that he willingly pays a hefty ransom in the death of his own Beloved Son that we might forever be with him.
Third, we are told that God’s love for people is universal in scope. God’s mercy is not limited to his chosen people Israel, nor to those who have grown up in a Christian church. “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world; red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight.” Do we really need a children’s song to remind us of such a simple truth? No, we need the song of Israel’s patriarchs, the church’s apostles, and the seraphim of the throne room. The universal scope of God’s love is a message too important to be left to little children.
And finally, we are told that there is a purpose in our salvation that extends beyond putting away sin. God created us to be kings and priests, to reign on earth and to enter God’s presence in heaven. It is never enough for us to escape the devil’s clutches. We must be prepared to be enfolded in God’s embrace and to do his work.
Listen to The Daily Word online.
Close to Human, But Not Close Enough?
Over at the PowerLine Blog, Paul Mirengoff posts this:
Michael Gerson, formerly President Bush’s speechwriter extraordinaire, is now a columnist for the Washington Post. Today, he focuses on Rudy Giuliani’s position on abortion, which Gerson describes as "a muddle."
Giuliani says he hates abortion and considers it morally wrong, but nonetheless opposes legislation to outlaw the practice because he thinks the person carrying the baby has the right to make her own choice. Gerson considers this position "incoherent" because, by saying that he hates abortion, Giuliani is "implying his support for the Catholic belief that an innocent life is being taken." And if an innocent life is being taken, then the need to ban the practice must trump the choice of the would-be mother.
Although I don’t agree with Giuliani’s position, neither do I find it inherently incoherent. One can regard the fetus in its early stages as close enough to an innocent human being for us to abhor its destruction, but not close enough for us to deny the would-be mother the freedom to terminate it.
I doubt, though, that Giuliani wishes to articulate this position — the perception of incoherence might be a better option. And Gerson is certainly correct that this issue "is likely to dog [Giuliani] in the primary process."
It is the third paragraph that intrigues me. Perhaps he is right that Giuliani’s position is not "inherently incoherent." But Mirengoff’s reasoning for reaching this conclusion is odd to say the least. " One can regard the fetus in its early stages as close enough to an innocent human being for us to abhor its destruction, but not close enough for us to deny the would-be mother the freedom to terminate it." To me, this line of reasoning is appropriate if you’re considering putting down a sick dog, but hardly appropriate when speaking of a human being.
Then again, Mirengoff only claims that the fetus is "close enough to an innocent human being." One wonders when the poor baby crosses the threshhold to merit real human protection.
The Lion of the Tribe of Judah (Revelation 5:5)
In Greek, the word for gospel is euangelion, meaning good news. It is an announcement of victory in battle. Although the word “gospel” itself is absent from Revelation 5:5, the idea is present throughout: “And one of the elders said to me, ‘Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” Finally, someone has been found who is worthy and able to open the scroll and break its seals!
So, the elder commands John, “Weep no more!” As I wrote earlier, only those who have understood John’s sorrow can understand the comfort the gospel provides. But we need to understand what such comfort entails. Imagine you are soldier in an army and seem to be losing the fight. Suddenly, a messenger arrives on the battlefield and announces that your general has broken through the enemy line and is sending them into headlong retreat. All you need to do is hold out a while longer. This message of imminent victory renews your flagging fighting spirit. It comforts you, in the Latin sense of that term: confortare, “to strengthen completely.”
John weeps because his sorrow is great. He is suffering. His churches are suffering. The enemy seems to be winning. Just as bad, he stands in the throne room of heaven and sees tremendous power but has no idea how God will deploy it. The battle plan is secret, sealed, and no one has the authority to break it.
Except for one.
John first refers to Jesus in chapters 4–5 using the overtly political terminology of Israel’s monarchy. He describes Jesus as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah” and “the Root of David.” Both are kingly terms. Judah is the tribe that produced Israel’s first dynastic monarchy. David is the first king chronologically within that dynasty. He is also the prototypical king—the one all successive kings strive to emulate.
Jesus is more than just the latest dynastic successor, however; he is the last and the greatest of the Davidic kings. He is the Root of David whom the prophet Isaiah foretold (Isa. 11.1, 10). He is the Anointed One, the Messiah, who will rescue God’s people from evil and restore justice to all creation.
No wonder, then, that when Jesus arrived in Galilee preaching the imminent inauguration of the kingdom of God, people flocked to him (Mark 1.14–15, 28). He was the general whose advent strengthened all flagging soldiers. He comforted his people.
We sometimes forget the “political” side of the gospel, that is, its overtly Messianic themes. We forget how important Jesus’ Davidic genealogy was to the first generation of believers (e.g., Rom. 1.3). We forget that Jesus is not a peripatetic philosopher or a democratically elected politician or a king. He is The King. And that is good news. But Christ is King in an unexpected way.
At this point, though, John only reports what he hears: royal titles. He still he does not see Jesus. And when he does, it revolutionizes his understanding of God’s kingdom. It will do the same for us.
Listen to The Daily Word online.
The Lamb Who Was Slain (Revelation 5:6)
So far, what John has seen and heard has prepared him to expect great things. He has seen the throne room of God. He has heard that “the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered.” He therefore expects to see the procession of a king, filled with pomp and circumstance.
What he sees instead is a sheep with its throat cut.
In his own words: “And between the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes, which are the seven spirits of God sent out into all the earth” (Rev. 5:6).
We fail to understand both John and the entire New Testament if we fail to understand the interplay between John’s images. John does not say that he saw a sacrificial lamb instead of a regal lion. Instead, both animals represent one person, Jesus, who died for us and therefore reigns over us. Christ wears the crown because he bore the cross, not in spite of it.
This is a revolutionary understanding of kingship. Usually, given the calculus of power that prevails among those who rule, the king sends his enemies to their crosses. Christ is the one and only king who went to the cross for his enemies.
No doubt Christ’s revolutionary kingship accounts for both his popularity and his abandonment by the masses. His proclamation of the kingdom of God, accompanied by the performance of miracles, marked him out as great man, perhaps the Messiah. So the crowds flocked to him.
But he resisted their demands for a typical kingship. At one point in his ministry, the crowd rushed forward to “take him by force to make him king” (John 6.15), but he eluded them. Instead, he called them to follow his example: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 8.34). Why was this so hard? Because the cross was deeply shameful; “Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree” (Gal. 3.13, citing Deut. 21.23). The crowds did not like Jesus’ command. They wanted a regal lion only, not a sacrificial lamb; they could not find a place for crucifixion in their religion.
But God finds a place for the Crucified One in his throne room. Notice how John lays out the floor plan of heaven. In the center is the throne. Around the throne are the four living creatures and the twenty-four elders (Rev. 4.4, 6). Between God’s throne and the elders’ thrones is where the Lamb stands (5.6), as if to mediate the grace of the former to the needs of the latter, which he in fact does: “For there is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as a ransom for all, which is the testimony given at the proper time” (1 Tim. 2.5, 6).
Christ’s death is thus central to God’s plan. It should be to our lives as well. Jesus Christ is Lion and Lamb, victor and sacrifice. So, if we want his crown, we must bear his cross.
Listen to The Daily Word online.
Experiencing God through Prayer
I just completed a teaching called Experiencing God through Prayer based on Jesus’ teaching about prayer in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6:5-15). You can listen to my messages online by clicking on the hyperlink below. My associate, Mike Moccardini, preached the message on May 6.A Weeping Prophet (Revelation 5:2-4)
John’s response to the double-sided, seven-sealed scroll is curious. We might have expected him to dance with joy at the fact that God has an exhaustive plan for the ages, that the events of history and our lives find a place and meaning within that plan. But he does not. He weeps instead. Why? Read his answer for yourself (Rev. 5:2-4):
And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it, and I began to weep loudly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it.
An unrevealed and therefore unknown plan is a cause for mourning. As Solomon put it: “Where there is no vision, the people perish” (Prov. 29.18, KJV). We die for lack of meaning, for the inability to see the purpose of our suffering.
Some time ago, I taught a Bible study on Hebrews 2.5–18, which addresses the paradox of Christ’s Lordship. Verses 8–9 are key: “Now in putting everything in subjection to Jesus, God left nothing outside his control. At present, we do not yet see everything in subjection to him. But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.” Christ’s lordship is paradoxical because it is actual (“God left nothing outside Jesus’ control”) but not apparent (“we do not yet see everything in subjection to him”).
After the Bible study, I had the opportunity to speak with a spiritual seeker. We talked about how the Hebrews’ passage helps Christians face the problem of evil with a realistic optimism. (The problem of evil is the difficulty of understanding why an all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-loving God allows his creatures to suffer.) Christians are realistic because we frankly acknowledge that evil happens, just as it happened to Christ. But we are fundamentally optimistic because we know that resurrection, the end-times’ righting of wrongs, and eternal life also happen—just as they happened to Christ.
In his vision of the heavenly throne room, John sees the power of God. And he sees the reality of evil. (After all, he is looking through heaven’s door from exile on Patmos.) What he does not see is Jesus. So he weeps.
Without Jesus, John is trying to tell us, the problem of evil is unsolvable. Christ is the interpretive key to that mystery. He is the one worthy to “open the scroll and break its seals,” so that we can read the place of our pain in God’s plan for the ages. Specifically, it is on Christ’s cross that heaven and earth intersect, that the vertex of God power plunges through the horizon of human sorrow, acknowledging its reality but overcoming it with resurrection.
But John sees none of this, at least not yet. Until we understand his sorrow, we cannot understand the comfort the gospel provides.
Listen to The Daily Word online.
A Double-Sided Seven-Sealed Scroll (5.1)
Like all prophets, John is a man of sight and sound. He reports his vision of God and declares whatever word of the Lord he has heard. Having seen heaven’s throne room with an awestruck gaze, now he narrows his line of sight and focuses on God’s right hand. It is open, and a scroll lies in it (Rev. 5:1).
In the ancient world, before the use of books became widespread, important documents were inscribed on scrolls made of reedy papyrus or leathery parchment. Those scrolls were often quite long, upwards of 30 feet. Only rarely was a scroll inscribed on both sides, and even then, the writing on the outer side was a simple précis of the scroll’s contents and took up little space.
John’s scroll, on the other hand was covered with writing on both sides and sealed with seven seals. The prophet Ezekiel saw a similar scroll in one of his visions, covered on both sides with “words of lamentation and mourning and woe” (Ezek. 2.9, 10). Later in Revelation, John is given “a little scroll” to eat and commissioned to “again prophesy about many peoples and nations and languages and kings” (10.1–11). When the Lamb breaks the seals of John’s scroll, great and terrible events of salvation and judgment occur (6.1–8.5). Taking all this evidence together, it seems that the scroll is a “heavenly book containing God’s redemptive plan and the future history of God’s creation,” as Grant Osborne puts it.[i] For some, its contents are words of weal, for others, of woe.
On occasion, we wonder if God in heaven knows what he is doing. Does he have a plan? If so, can we know it? The double-sided, seven-sealed scroll asks both questions.
Does God have a plan? Yes, he does. It is set and comprehensive, exhaustive in its detail, and it is written on the scroll lying in God’s open hand. Scripture is quite clear that God governs the course of history. Psalm 139.16 tells us as much when it says, “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there were none of them.” In Ephesians 1.10, Paul writes of God’s “plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in Christ, things in heaven and things on earth.”
God’s plan encompasses not only the happy ending but also the grievous suffering of all who believe in him. According to Peter, Jesus’ gruesome crucifixion “by the hands of lawless men” took place “according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2.23). We can take comfort from such knowledge, for our seemingly meaningless suffering finds meaning in God’s plan. “You have kept count of my tossings,” the Psalmist writes, and “put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book?” (Ps. 56.8).
So, God has a plan. But can we know it? Before John shows us that we can, he shows us the great sorrow if we cannot. To that sorrow we now turn.
Listen to The Daily Word online.
Worshiping God for What He Has Done (Revelation 4:11)
The four living creatures, whose body-covering eyes are fixed constantly upon God, praise him for who he is. The twenty-four knee-bending, crown-casting elders—Israel’s patriarchs and the church’s apostles—praise him for what he does. They lift their voices with the words of this song:
“Worthy are you, our Lord and God,
to receive glory and honor and power;
for you created all things,
and by your will they existed and were created” (Rev. 4:11).
The English word “worthy” translates the Greek term axios. Taken with the phrase, “our Lord and God,” it is thoroughly political language. Robert H. Mounce comments, “‘You are worthy’ greeted the entrance of the emperor in triumphal procession, and ‘our Lord and God’ was introduced into the cult of emperor worship by Domitian.”[1] So, when the first-century Christians ascribed glory, honor, and power to God, they were not simply talking theology. They were doing politics. By explicitly declaring God’s worthiness, they were implicitly denouncing the Caesar’s pretensions.
In the long life of the church, unfortunately, Christians often have been tempted to separate the spiritual from the mundane. The worthiness of God forces us to stare down, resist, and overcome this temptation. We cannot proclaim that God is axios inside the church building and then pretend that he is not when we are outside it. Worship requires integrity. We must give glory, honor, and power to God not only in the weekly liturgy but also in all of our works. “I appeal to you, brothers,” Paul writes, “by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship” (Rom. 12:2).
In saying this, by the way, I am not advocating the intermingling of the institutions of church and state. The First Amendment is a good idea, both politically and spiritually. Theocratic states, after all, are rarely free, and political churches are never redemptive. What I am advocating is an angle of vision, a way of seeing all of life sub specie eternitatis, under the aspect of heaven. Worship, which is nothing but the worthiness of God proclaimed in our songs and embodied in our actions, helps us see thing aright and value them properly.
The great problem in life, of course, is that our values are skewed. Domitian, for instance, a mere mortal, thought he was the immortal Lord and God. Everywhere, the Scriptures proclaim that God alone is worthy of our praise. Why? Because he made us. The elders sing, “you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created.” The first sin, the one that kills us, is the worship of creature rather than Creator (Rom. 1:21–23). So, if you want to value creation properly, value the Creator above all else. If you love the art, love the Artist more.
Worship, then, is axiology, the assignment of value or worthiness. When we give ultimate value to God, the rest of our lives—politics included—falls into proper order.
Listen to The Daily Word online.
