Archive for July 2007
In his High Priestly Prayer, Jesus—on the eve of his crucifixion—enunciated a paradox that succinctly captures the tension of living as a Christian in the present age. Speaking of believers, he prayed, “they are in the world,” and yet, “they are not of the world” (John 17.11, 14). In, but not of: This is the tension all Christians face in every age as they seek to believe in and remain faithful to God.
In: All Christians live in the world. We do not inhabit some sanctified space that sets us apart from the unbelieving world. There is no territorial boundary line between Christianland and Nonchristianland. Oh sure, in centuries past, Christians tried to set up “Christendom,” a geopolitical realm in which the Word of God was the law of the land, but—whatever its minor successes—Christendom was a major failure. Why? Because as it grew in wealth and power, it grew to love wealth and power and so became quite worldly. It was both “in” and “of” the world.
But Christians are called to be “not of the world.” Where orthodox belief and Christian values conflict with the beliefs and values of the world, Christians must make the countercultural choice to obey God rather than man. Such a choice marks us out as “peculiar people” (1 Peter 2.9, KJV; cf. Deuteronomy 14.2). But in that very peculiarity lays our salvation.
Revelation 18.4–8 picks up on the “in, but not of theme” by inviting believers to “Come out of her, my people.” The her being referred to is, of course, Babylon/Rome—the City of Man that sets itself in opposition to the City of God. Again, this has nothing to do with geographical separation. First-century Christians never left Rome. They stayed in place, striving to believe and live in very un-Roman, unworldly ways.
Why is spiritual separation important? Two reasons: “lest you take part in her sins, lest you share in her plagues.” The “voice from heaven” is driving home the point that being “in” the world contaminates one’s character and invites divine judgment. Babylon/Rome—the City of Man—has sinned so greatly that the voice from heaven announces, “her sins are heaped high as heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities.”
How, then, do we live in, but not of, the world? We examine what Babylon does, and do the opposite. First, “she glorified herself.” The Christian life begins and ends with God, not self. The Westminster Shorter Catechism famously asks, “What is the chief end of man?” It answers, “to glorify God and enjoy him forever.” Rather than living self-centered lives, Christians ought to live God-centered lives, humbly acknowledging him as the source of and authority over our lives. That way lays the path of divine blessing.
Second, Babylon/Rome “lived in luxury.” There is nothing wrong with wealth per se, of course. Throughout the Bible, abundance is often portrayed as a source of divine blessing. And yet, as Paul so eloquently put it, “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils” (1 Timothy 6.10). In the case of Babylon/Rome, wealth was both unjustly gained and immorally used. Christians will be careful to gain their wealth through honest work and use their wealth for noble purposes.
Finally, Babylon/Rome was impenitent: “I sit as a queen, I am no widow; and mourning I shall never see.” The Christian life, by contrast, is filled with mourning. We mourn our brokenness and alienation from God. We mourn the sins that require daily repentance. And we mourn over the lostness of our neighbors. And yet, even those tears are merely prelude to that great day when God “will wipe away ever tear from their eyes” (Revelation 21.4).
Humble God-centeredness, the strategic use of wealth, and hopeful mourning are thus three marks of Christians as we strive to live in, but not of, the world.
For use of the words hell 6x), abortion (2x), and sex (1x).
Given how much I’ve blogged about Revelation, with all its violence, destruction, and talk about the Antichrist and the Prostitute, I thought I’d get at least an R rating. But, hey, I’m glad this is still a family friendly site–at least if your family is over 13.
HT: Steve Lake
Recently, during an interview with ten conservative journalists, the president made the following remark:
The other debate is whether or not it is a hopeless venture to encourage the spread of liberty. Most of you all around this table are much better historians than I am. And people have said, you know, this is Wilsonian, it’s hopelessly idealistic. One, it is idealistic, to this extent: It’s idealistic to believe people long to be free. And nothing will change my belief. I come at it many different ways. Really not primarily from a political science perspective, frankly; it’s more of a theological perspective. I do believe there is an Almighty, and I believe a gift of that Almighty to all is freedom. And I will tell you that is a principle that no one can convince me that doesn’t exist.
Over at Christianity Today, Ted Olsen surveys conservative responses to Bush’s remark, including this potty-mouthed response by Russ Douthat:
I think Andrew lets Bush off too easily when he says "as a very abstract theological principle, it’s hard for a fellow Christian to disagree" with the President’s contention that "a gift of that Almighty to all is freedom." On the one hand, there’s nothing ‘abstract’ about that particular Christian principle: The gift of freedom that Christ promises is far more real than anything else in this world, if Christian teaching on the matter is correct. On the other hand, there’s nothing that’s political about that promise, and the attempt to transform God’s promise of freedom through Jesus Christ into a this-world promise of universal democracy is the worst kind of "immanentizing the eschaton" utopian bull****. It’s Hegel meets Woodrow Wilson meets James Kurth’s ‘Protestant Deformation‘ meets the American heresy [Douthat apparently means David Gerlernter's "Americanism" more than Pope Leo XIII's], and Christians and conservatives alike ought to be appalled by it.
To which, Ted Olsen responds:
We’ve seen similar statements from Bush throughout his presidency, and we’ve seen conservative Christians disagreeing. But it is new that people like Douthat, who supported the war, are declaring Bush’s rationale heretical.
This hits on what I think is the biggest question for western Christians right now: Should Christians in democracies work to make governmental actions reflect biblical priorities? If God loves human "freedom," should we then get the government to act for "freedom" worldwide? If God loves the poor, should we get the government to enact polices aimed at reducing (or eliminating) poverty?
Touchstone provided an interesting answer in a recent editorial. "[W]e know abortion is murder but do not know what God would have us do about global warming," the magazine stated. The implication is that we know what God would have us do about abortion — but even prolife allies who agree that God wants his people to work for a governmental ban disagree on what the ban should look like and how to work for it.
Many evangelicals who agree with Douthat’s criticism of Bush argue that it is their Christian obligation to work against the Iraq war because "God loves peace." Thus they employ the same logic as Bush. Are we all a bunch of heretics?
That’s a good question.
I thought I’d be John Wesley, but whatever…
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You scored as Anselm, Anselm is the outstanding theologian of the medieval period.He sees man’s primary problem as having failed to render unto God what we owe him, so God becomes man in Christ and gives God what he is due. You should read ‘Cur Deus Homo?’
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Anselm
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93% |
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John Calvin
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87% |
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Karl Barth
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67% |
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Charles Finney
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53% |
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Martin Luther
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47% |
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Friedrich Schleiermacher
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40% |
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Augustine
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40% |
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Jonathan Edwards
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33% |
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Paul Tillich
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27% |
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Jürgen Moltmann
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20% |
Which theologian are you?
created with QuizFarm.com
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At this year’s General Council of the Assemblies of God, ministers will be asked to elect a new general superintendent and new assistant general superintendent. Two younger AG ministers have started a blog to express their thoughts about the election. Check it out here.
In 2006 Anne Holmes Redding converted to Islam, which wouldn’t be such a problem if it weren’t for the fact that she’s also an Episcopal priest at St. Mark’s Episcopal Cathedra in Seattle, Washington. Of her conversion, Redding said, “I am both Muslim and Christian. I’m 100 percent both.” According to her diocesan newsletter, her bishop, Vincent Warner, "accepts Redding as an Episcopal priest and a Muslim, and that he finds the interfaith possibilities exciting." The diocese of Rhode Island, which ordained Redding, begged to differ and suspended her for one year’s period of time, during which she was supposed to "reflect on the doctrines of the Christian faith."
This weird little story suggests why the Episcopal Church in the United States of America (ECUSA) is on the verge of schism with the larger Anglican communion. But it also suggests problems with liberal denomination’s insouciance toward doctrine. After all, as Daveed Gartenstein-Ross points out:
As a matter of simple logic, the idea that Redding could be both Christian and Muslim is untenable. Boston College philosophy professor Peter Kreeft has described the doctrine of Jesus’ divinity as “the central Christian doctrine.” And Frank Spina, an Episcopal priest and professor of Old Testament and biblical theology at Seattle Pacific University, was correct when he told the Seattle Times in response to Redding’s conversion: “The essence of Christianity was not that Jesus was a great rabbi or even a great prophet, but that he is the very incarnation of the God that created the world. . . . Christianity stands or falls on who Jesus is.”
On the other hand, the idea that Jesus is not divine is equally central to Islam. The Qur’an, which Muslims believe is the direct word of God, denies Jesus’ divinity multiple times. Sura 4:171 warns People of the Book (Christians and Jews) to “believe in Allah and His messengers, and say not ‘Three’—Cease! (it is) better for you!—Allah is only One God. Far is it removed from His transcendent majesty that He should have a son.” Going beyond that, Sura 5:17 declares that “they indeed have disbelieved who say: Lo! Allah is the Messiah, son of Mary.” And Sura 5:73 denounces adherence to the Christian doctrine of the Holy Trinity as a form of disbelief.
This conflicting view of Jesus’ divinity is all one needs to know to understand that it is impossible to be Christian and Muslim at the same time. This doctrinal difference is anything but incidental: It goes to the two faiths’ very conceptions of the deity. A necessary part of being Christian is accepting that Jesus was divine. This is enshrined in the catechism of the Episcopal Church, which teaches that God the Son is part of the Holy Trinity. Likewise, a necessary part of being Muslim is denying Jesus’ divinity: The idea that Christ was God violates the tenet of tawhid (the oneness of God) that is central to both the Qur’an and Muhammad’s teachings.
Not only does liberal denomination’s insouciance result in incoherence, it also harms the interfaith dialogue such an insouciance is supposed to promote. Gartenstein-Ross goes on to write:
A powerful movement within the broader Christian church seemingly believes it polite to water down religious doctrine that may make non-Christians uncomfortable. Indeed, many non-Christians are offended by Christianity’s belief that salvation can be found only in Jesus—thus holding that other religions provide a deficient connection to God.
Some argue that having religious doctrine that is at odds with contemporary thinking hurts the Church. Certainly, the Rt. Rev. Warner’s stance on Redding’s conversion suggests that he favors a path of accommodation on doctrinal issues. Others in the Episcopal Church have shown similar inclinations where Islam is concerned. In a 2003 Christmas sermon, the Rt. Rev. John Bryson Chane, Episcopal bishop of Washington, D.C., asked a series of rhetorical questions: “And what was God thinking . . . when the Angel Gabriel was sent by God to reveal the Law to Moses? And what was God thinking . . . when the Angel Gabriel was sent by God to reveal the sacred Qur’an to the prophet Muhammad? And what was God thinking . . . when the Angel Gabriel was sent by God to reveal the birth of Jesus Christ, the Son of God?” This was particularly puzzling, since the Rt. Rev. Chane affirmed Jesus as the Son of God in the same breath that he affirmed the sacred nature of the Qur’an, which expressly denies the Holy Trinity.
The question is whether such doctrinal compromise actually creates interfaith opportunities. Not only is this approach unlikely to bolster interfaith activities, but it may actually undermine them. The available evidence suggests that interfaith dialogue is least effective when those engaging in it do not have their feet firmly planted in their own faith traditions. The point of interfaith dialogue is to learn about religions that are foreign to us—and an integral part of accomplishing this is being upfront about theological differences. When a church involved in interfaith dialogue soft-pedals Christian doctrine in the interest of painting a picture that appeals to its dialogue partners, its credibility can be undermined. A couple of years ago, I spoke with a member of a conservative church that had recently begun interfaith dialogue with a mosque. Before that, the mosque had dialogued with a more liberal church. Mosque leaders were pleased to have more conservative dialogue partners: They expressed satisfaction that “now we’ll get to see what Christians really think.”
Unfortunately, at least in some dioceses of the ECUSA, it seems that one can no longer count on bishops and priests to say what Christians really think.
Revelation 18 commemorates the destruction of Babylon with angelic choruses and earthly laments. In the course of doing so, it raises—at least in my mind—an interesting question: Is it proper for Christians to celebrate the final judgment of their enemies? The Germans have a term for the perverse happiness people sometimes feel when their adversaries experience misfortune:
Schadenfreude (pronounced SHAW-den-froy-duh). Is that what
Revelation 18 is—an instance of Christian
Schadenfreude?
Hear the angel’s chorus:
Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!
She has becoming a dwelling place for demons,
a haunt for every unclean spirit,
a haunt for every unclean bird,
a haunt for every unclean and detestable beast.
So utter is the destruction of Babylon, the angel is singing, that she is fit habitation only for hellions and scavengers. It is a desolate and unclean place. Can a Christian celebrate such devastation?
Before we try to answer that question, consider the basis for the angel’s praise:
For all nations have drunk
the wine of the passion of her sexual immorality,
and the kings of the earth
have committed immorality with her,
and the merchants of the earth have grown rich
from the power of her luxurious living.
Now, the angel is singing in symbols. Sexual immorality is a common image throughout the Bible of idolatry. It is common precisely because promiscuous sex was a regular feature of Near Eastern, Greek, and Roman religions. So, the primary ground of Babylon’s destruction is her promiscuous idolatry. The well-connected and luxurious lifestyle also characteristic of Babylon is best understood as a lifestyle unjustly gained. Her power is built on the oppression of others, her wealth on their poverty.
So, in every respect, Babylon fails to love God and love her poor neighbors. She violates the essence of the two great commandments of God’s moral law (
Matthew 22.34–40). She is judged because she lives her entire life in opposition to God’s will.
Is it appropriate for Christians to celebrate the demise of such a city? Or is it mere Schadenfreude? I think it is appropriate, with certain qualifications.
It is appropriate because a Christian should always celebrate the triumph of God over the devil and of justice over injustice. Do you remember the rapturous crowds in Baghdad that toppled Saddam Hussein’s statue when American troops entered their city? Their celebration of an evil dictator’s downfall perfectly captured the way we all will feel when God finally destroys the devil and his works. That is not Schadenfreude. It is the simple pleasure of a world turned right side up.
And yet, there is a qualification. At the present time, Scripture says, God is “patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (
2 Peter 3.9). In the future, when God decides that second chances will no longer be available, we will celebrate the triumph of God’s justice over injustice. But the present moment is not a time for such celebration, but rather prayer that all people—and perhaps especially our enemies—might discover the grace of God that has already discovered us.
To fail to seek God’s grace for all people, to be content with their current alienation from God—now that’s Schadenfreude.
Let us return to the literal meaning of John’s symbolic portraits. So far, we have discussed the beast and its seven heads, seeing in them a reference to the Antichrist and (perhaps) Roman emperors, in whose company the Antichrist should be counted.
The angel now draws John’s attention to the beast’s ten horns (Rev. 17:12–14), which are “ten kings who have not yet received royal power.” If the seven heads refer to Roman emperors, the ten horns refer to their “client kings,” who ruled as proxy powers and at Rome’s behest in each of its ten imperial provinces. (Herod the Great, for example, was such a client king.) At the time of John’s vision, these ten client kings had not yet been appointed to their thrones. Similarly, we can presume—based on verses 10 and 11—that as of John’s writing, the Antichrist had not yet arisen either.
What should interest us about these kings is that they, like the Antichrist and the devil himself loathe Jesus Christ and his followers. “Then the dragon became furious with the woman and went off to make war on the rest of her offspring, on those who keep the commandments of God and hold to the testimony of Jesus” (12.17). “Also it [the beastly Antichrist] was allowed to make war on the saints and conquer them [for a short period of time]” (13.7). Indeed, the ten kings have a monomania, namely, the destruction of Christ and his church: “They will make war on the Lamb” (17.14).
What should interest us about Jesus Christ is that he defeats these ten kings utterly: “…and the Lamb will conquer them, for he is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those with him are called and chosen and faithful.” Too often, we are shocked and awed by the powers of the world, whether social, cultural, political, or religious. Too often, we let their power determine our actions, keeping quiet when we should speak out, hiding our convictions, curtailing actions that we know we should take. In such situations, we should remember where real power lies, with Jesus Christ, and do the right thing anyway, for we too are “called and chosen and faithful.”
Finally, the angel turns John’s attention to the great prostitute herself (verses 15–18). She sits “on many waters,” which are “peoples and multitudes and nations and languages.” This, no doubt, indicates the geographic and cultural reach of the Roman Empire at the time of John’s writing. She is identified as “the great city that has dominion over the kings of the earth.” Interestingly, at some point, the Antichrist leads Rome’s ten client kings in rebellion against it. There is not, it turns out, any honor or loyalty among the dragon’s devotees.
So, the great prostitute is Rome. The beast she rides is the Antichrist, whose heads are Roman emperors and horns their client kings. Can we be more specific? Is Nero the Antichrist, for example? That is the preterist solution. Or is the Antichrist yet to come? That is the futurist solution. Or is the Roman emperor the prototype of rulers who set themselves up “against the Lord and against his anointed” (Psalm 2.2)? That is the idealist or symbolical solution. Personally, I cannot make up my mind one way or another for sure.
But I am sure about two things. Even in their wicked scheming, the devil, the Antichrist, and the forces opposed to God are playing into his hand, “for God has put it into their hearts to carry out his purpose by being of one mind…until the words of God are fulfilled.” And that purpose, that victory, is the utter, ultimate, and undeniable victory of his Beloved Son, the Lamb who conquers.
We may fear the devil and his minions for a moment, but we should never doubt their defeat.
Over at TCS Daily, Arnold Kling debunks 5 myths surrounding George W. Bush’s presidency:
- Bush lost in 2000
- Bush economic poliices were disastrous
- Bush was too right-wing
- Bush was too partisan
- Iraq reflects Bush’s personality
Then he concludes:
I think that many people are tired of the bitterness and partisanship of the Bush era. My main point, however, is that people over-estimate the extent to which this bitterness and partisanship is due to George Bush himself. My prediction is that we will see further bitterness in the years ahead, as the sore losers of 2000 and 2004 become the sore winners of 2008. In 2012, there will still be Islamic terrorism, millions of Americans will lack health insurance and America’s health care bill will still be unusually high, the rich will still be getting richer (unless the economy tanks), and the trend will be for more people to join the Long Tail that identifies with neither political party. Which is why both parties are becoming more shrill every year.
What is noteworthy about Kling’s debunking is that he is a libertarian, not a neoconservative, and that he voted for Gore in 2000. Like Kling, I believe that history will judge Bush’s presidency better than the current media, especially if we finally see progress being made in Iraq. Also like Kling, I am very concerned about the level of "anger" and "outrage" that is present in our political discourse. I don’t think it’s healthy for the republic.
Having elicited our negative emotional response to Babylon by means of symbolic portraiture (Rev. 17:1-6), John now explains the meaning of the symbols (17:7-18). Or rather, an angel explains their meaning to John and he to us. By doing so, the angel, through John, reveals the “mystery” of Babylon.
Let us begin where John does, with the grotesque beast (verse 8). It is clearly the sea beast of Revelation 13.1–10, that is, the Antichrist. Two items are noteworthy. First, the Antichrist has divine pretensions. In Revelation 1.4, God is described as “him who is and who was and who is to come” (cf. 1.8; 4.8; 11.17; and 16.5). Here, the angel describes the Antichrist as a person who “was, and is not, and is about to rise.” Second, the Antichrist’s doom is certain. He rises from “the bottomless pit” only to “go to destruction.”
Next, let us turn to the beast’s seven heads (verses 9–11). The angel offers two interpretations of them, one geographical and the other historical. Geographically, “the seven heads are seven mountains on which the woman is seated.” Since the woman is later described as “the great city that has dominion over the kings of the earth,” we should interpret the image as a description of a city set on seven hills. That, rather obviously, is the city of Rome, whose seven hills—Aventine, Caelian, Capitoline, Equiline, Palatine, Quirinal, and Viminal)—were well known in antiquity and whose power was indisputable in the first century. Interestingly, according to most New Testament scholars, Peter also uses “Babylon” as a code word for Rome in 1 Peter 5.13.
Chronologically, the seven heads are “seven kings, five of whom have fallen, one is, the other has not yet come, and when he does come he must remain only a little while.” This is a notoriously difficult passage to interpret, although many New Testament scholars see here an oblique reference to Roman emperors. A common—but by no means universally accepted—solution centers on Nero. According to this interpretation, the five kings who have fallen are Julius Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, and Claudius. Nero is the “one is” king, while Galba, Otho, and Vitellius—who reigned in brief succession in A.D. 68–69—are “the other [who] has not yet come” and “must remain only a little while.” The angel now lumps the beast in with these seven kings as “an eighth [king] but it belongs to the seven, and it goes to destruction.” So, then, on this line of interpretation, the Antichrist is also a Roman emperor. But which one?
Now, I know what you must be thinking to yourself: John’s literal explanations are no clearer than his symbolic descriptions, and far less evocative. They are an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, shrouded by mystery. Well, yes, for us they are, at least to a certain extent. And yet, it seems to me, even their enigmatic character is helpful. Just as John’s description of the great prostitute evoked our disgust, so his enigmatic explanations keep us on our toes. If we could nail down who the seven kings were in the past, or who the Antichrist was, we might not be alert to the danger of our own times and the need for our faithfulness and discernment.
The riddle-wrapped, mystery-shrouded enigma keeps us guessing and thus on our toes.
