The purpose of prayer

One of the most comforting things about prayer is that our requests are being made known to an all-powerful and sovereign God. We can have absolute confidence that our prayers will not go unanswered and that God will accomplish his own purposes because he is in control of everything. A great example of this is seen in Acts 4 where the early believers, praying in the face of persecution, addressed God as "Sovereign Lord, who made heaven and earth...." They were recalling God's absolute power in order to assure themselves that they had nothing to fear, and that God was in control of every factor of life (cf. v.28). In fact, if God is not absolutely sovereign, if he doesn't control everything that comes to past, then what's the point of praying in the first place? I think it was B.B. Warfield who once said, "Every Christian is a Calvinist when they're on their knees." But, if God is in control of everything, and his purposes will be accomplished no matter what we do, we also are tempted to ask the same question. What is necessary is a proper Biblical perspective on prayer:

Prayer is commanded.

The first and most important reason why we as Christians should continue in prayer is because it is explicitly commanded in Scripture. That this alone is reason enough for us to pray can go without saying. Even if praying makes absolutely no sense to us whatsoever, we still should do so because God said so. Growing up, I always vowed that I'd never say to my future kids, "Do it cause I said so!" Sadly, now that I have two of my own, I find myself saying those very words. But I don't think this is how Scripture presents the command for prayer. Indeed, there are many good reasons given for us to pray.

Prayer is part of our gratitude.

When the Heidelberg Catechism asks in question #116, "Why is prayer necessary for Christians?" it first answers by saying, "Because it is the chief part of our thankfulness which God requires of us...." Prayer is how we respond to God's initial, unsolicited saving actions for us. Like the one out of ten lepers who actually came back to thank Jesus for the healing (Luke 17), prayer is our way of saying "thank you" to Christ for his total and complete salvation.

Prayer is necessary.

The Heidelberg Catechism goes on in its answer in #116 by saying regarding prayer: "God will give his grace and Spirit only to those who earnestly and without ceasing ask them of him and render thanks unto him for them." In other words, if we do not ask, we will not receive (Matthew 7:7-11; James 4:2). This is not meant to imply that God is somehow dependent on us to accomplish things, but rather, that he is pleased to use prayer as a means to do so. So prayer is not equivalent to thinking good thoughts or visualizing our potential... it actually works. Of course, the only way that this is possible is through the mediating prayer of Christ our intercessor (Hebrews 7:25) and the Spirit (Romans 8:26).

Prayer is mysterious.

When everything has been said and done; after all the reasons have been given, there still remains in prayer an element of mystery. This is, of course, because prayer involves speaking to God. God is transcendent, that is, he is above all of our highest thoughts; he cannot be comprehended. His ways are not our ways, his thoughts are not our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8). We as finite, temporal beings cannot even begin to fathom the depths of God's actions, but we can trust his word, and know that he is for us and not against us.

A unique inheritance

In the ancient world, obtaining an inheritance was crucial to maintaining wealth and prosperity. This was not a time like ours where individuals were encouraged to go out and strike their own fortunes. Thus we see, for example, the utter heinousness of the prodigal son's request to his father in Christ's parable. Taking this common social custom as a very apt metaphor, Biblical writers often mention the inheritance which God has promised to give to his people. The apostle Paul, for example, continues his litany of Spiritual blessings available only through union with Christ in Ephesians 1:11 by saying, "In him we have obtained an inheritance..." The word he uses here is the passive verb form of the same word used in verse 14. Taken generally, it could just mean that we were simply "chosen" by God as the NIV seems to suggest, but since Paul has already discussed individual election in verse 4, and the fact that he continues to discuss the issue of inheritance in verse 14, I think the idea of inheritance should be brought out. But then another translational option presents itself when we consider the fact that the verb is indeed, passive. So rather than saying "we have obtained an inheritance," I think it also can be rendered, "we have been chosen as an inheritance." If this is the case, then the one getting an inheritance here, is not us as the people of God, but God choosing us, his people, as his inheritance. This falls in line with a rich OT motif where God chooses Israel as his own special possession (Exo 15:16; 19:5; Deut 7:6; Ps 33:12; cf. I Pet 2:9). So we see in vivid detail a reciprocal promise summarized by the covenantal formula: "I will be your God, and you will be my people."

But then in verse 12, Paul says something that (for us Gentiles anyway) may throw a whole wrench in this interpretation. He says, "So that we who were first to hope in Christ..." What Paul does here, is distinguish between himself and his present company, and those to whom he is writing. When he designates himself and others as "those who first hoped in Christ," he no doubt is referring to Jewish believers who received the gospel first as opposed to the Gentile believers who were told about it later. The question to ask at this point is: is the "we" in verse 12 the same as the "we" in verse 11? In other words, are only Jewish believers God's special possession and inheritance? There are some who suggest this. The facts, however, emphatically state the opposite.

In verse 13 Paul goes on to speak specifically of the Gentile converts by saying that after they heard the gospel, they believed it, and believing, they were sealed by the Holy Spirit. A seal in the ancient world (as in our day) was a mark of ownership. Whether it was a brand mark on cattle or slaves, or whether it was an insignia imprinted on a piece of wax or clay, they were a clear way of letting others know that something belonged to you. When Paul told his audience that the Holy Spirit seals them, he was stating in a vivid and emphatic manner, that they belonged to God. Further, the way in which Paul writes these two verbs: "believing " and "sealing," suggests that they happen simultaneously, that is, the moment one believes in Christ is also the same moment that they are sealed by the Spirit, there is no time delay.

Paul further elaborates on the role of the Spirit in the believers life by calling the Spirit the "guarantee" of our inheritance. The word used here (arrabon) was commonly used in commerce when someone wanted to purchase something but didn't have enough money to pay for it all at once. What he would do is leave an arrabon which would serve as a type of down payment or earnest money to show that he was serious about coming back with the full sum to purchase the item. In most cases, this deposit was non-refundable, so if the person changed his mind, he wasn't getting any of the arrabon back. Here Paul tells us that God has given us his Spirit to show how serious he is about redeeming us, and he's never going to take that away!

Finally, to further ensure his readers that all the benefits of inheritance were theirs, Paul designates the inheritance in verse 14 as "ours." Did you notice what the apostle did? First he distinguishes between himself and fellow Jewish believers (v.11-12) and his audience of predominantly Gentile believers (v.13). Then he unites them all together in verse 14 by saying "our" inheritance. The distinction is not an ethnic one, between national Israel and the church, rather it's chronological or Redemptive Historical. That is to say, in the past, God worked with Israel, but now the covenant community has broadened to include all types of people. There is but one people of God (Eph 2:11-22).

Was it really necessary?

The atonement of Christ is rightly viewed as a central aspect of the Christian religion. Its true significance and even its necessity, however, has been debated throughout church history and it still continues to this day. Here are some of the traditional views that have been held throughout the history of the church:

Christus victor - this view, held by many of the early church fathers, saw fallen humanity in bondage to Satan. In order to redeem us, Christ agreed to give his life as a ransom by dying on the cross. Satan took the bait, as it were, and agreed to the trade. However, in so doing, he sealed his defeat, because the power of Christ’s death and subsequent resurrection actually destroyed the powers of darkness. Readers of C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe may find this depiction familiar in his story of Aslan giving his life for Edmund and in so doing, defeating the White Witch.

Satisfaction theory – in the eleventh century, a bishop by the name of Anselm wrote a book entitled, Cur Deus homo? (lit. “Why the God man?”). In this work, Anselm spoke of the necessity of the incarnation of Christ as well as the purpose and intent of the atonement. He spoke of humanity’s estrangement and hostility with God being the result of having offended his honor. Instead of a ransom being paid to Satan, Christ was to offer his life to an offended God; his death was a payment for humanity’s debt in order to restore the honor due his name. This view has been criticized in contemporary discussions due to its heavy reliance upon Anselm’s own social assumptions of the feudal system.

Moral influence theory – Abelard, a contemporary of Anselm, did not view God as needing any sort of appeasement in order to reconcile humanity to him, but rather placed the blame upon human hostility that they have towards God and each other. Thus, he spoke of the atonement as God’s ultimate demonstration of love towards his creatures. The purpose of the atonement, therefore, is to serve as an example of selfless love, which then changes people’s hearts to no longer want hostility, but reconciliation. This view, unlike the others, is purely subjective, that is, the atonement does not accomplish anything outside of people’s lives (e.g. satisfying God’s justice or defeating the powers of darkness), but only has effect in the hearts of people. Also, the atonement is not strictly necessary, since it was merely a demonstration of God’s love and a free act of his will.

Feminist theory – in contemporary discussions of the atonement, perhaps the most radical and blunt theory is that which says the atonement is nothing more than a case of divine child abuse. For God the Father to have his Son die on the cross is cruel and unusual, they say. Further, they suggest that the doctrine of the atonement has been used to exploit people (women especially), by suggesting that humble submission in the face of suffering has redemptive value. Despite all of this theory’s obvious faults, I do not think that we should so easily dismiss it. If a view does not see the atonement as absolutely necessary in order to satisfy God’s justice, then I believe that it is subject to the feminist critique.

Reformed view - the atonement, according to this view, is of “consequent absolute necessity,” that is, since God has determined to redeem fallen humanity, the cross of Christ was the only way. It is not a case of divine child abuse since, according to the pactum salutus (“covenant of peace”), the Son voluntarily agrees to give his life for the people whom the Father has chosen. Like Anselm’s theory, this was done in order to make satisfaction towards God (cf. Heidelberg Catechism #12-17), but unlike his view, this was to meet his justice, not some other arbitrary standard. Christ also defeated the powers of darkness on the cross and though his Spirit, he applies the benefits of his death and resurrection towards all of the elect.

Direction concerning election

Election is perhaps one of the most difficult and contentious doctrines in Christianity. To be told that, in the final analysis, we did not choose Christ, but that he chose us (John 15:16) is insulting to our self-determinative, individualistic mentalities. In our society we are lead to believe that it is our power to choose that makes us who we are (typically this is by marketing campaigns that want us to "choose" their product). Human autonomy does not like to have things out of its control. Despite all this, however, as Christians we must have a doctrine of election because it is so clearly taught in Scripture. Furthermore, I would argue that a proper understanding of election affords the Christian with unspeakable comfort as well as gratitude for godly living.

Contrary to those who think that election is a doctrine we should believe but not talk about all that much, the apostle Paul opens up his famous "blessing" (berakah) in Ephesians 1 extolling our heavenly Father first and foremost for the blessing of election. Neither does he stop talking about God's eternal purposes throughout the book (cf. 1:11; 2:10; 3:11). Clearly, this is something that we should not shrink from proclaiming, even if its not that popular. At this point, I'd like to answer some questions that will help us better understand the doctrine of election.

Who chose whom? Surely the credit for the decision making in election goes to God and God alone. Nowhere in Scripture are we told that Christians are "elect" because of decisions that they made. In all of our endeavors to protect the free will of mankind, we must be careful not to deprive God of his free will. This is, I suggest, what the vast majority of Evangelicals do when they seek to explain how it is that God chose the elect and speak as if God "looked down the corridors of time, and saw who would believe in him, and then, chose those people." In this very rational scenario, who is it that is making the crucial decision? Who chooses the deciding factor? Is not God's choice relegated to a mere confirmation of a "good decision"?

This is why Reformed theology seeks to understand Scripture by saying that election is "unconditional," that is, there were no conditions found in the elect (e.g. making a decision) that caused or even influenced God's choice. Surely this is Paul's intent when he tells us in Eph 1:4 that God's choice took place "before the foundation of the world." I don't know about you, but I certainly wasn't around at that time.

Why did God choose? This is a very important question to ask because if God did not choose us because we were the brightest and the best or because we possessed good decision-making capabilities, then why on earth would he elect us, filthy, rotten sinners that we are? I don't think we will ever even begin to comprehend ultimately why God chose us because it is due to the unfathomable riches of his grace, but we can see what God's attitude was towards his decision to do so. First of all, Paul tells us in Eph 1:4-5 that God chose us because he loved us. Contrary to the notion that God's election was completely arbitrary and capricious, we find here the notion that election was based upon a personal and affective choice of individuals that God loves. This is the true meaning of the Biblical notion of "foreknowledge." In the Old Testament, to "know" someone, was to have a personal and intimate relationship with someone. In the New Testament, we are told that God "knew" us even before we were born (Rom 8:29)! Another thing that Paul says concerning election is that it was according to "the good pleasure of his will" (Eph 1:5; NKJV). The Greek word used here is eudokia, which means, "that which pleases someone." In other words, God decided to choose us because it was pleasing to him; it made him happy to do it!

How did God choose? When discussing the blessing of election (as well as all the other Spiritual blessings) in Eph 1, Paul never ceases to tell us that it comes to us "in Christ." This term, which is so prevalent in Paul's writings, speaks of the union that a believer has with Christ as his or her covenantal head. So, in a real sense, Christ is the location in which we receive all the blessings of God, election being one of them. Paul tells us that we have been blessed "in the Beloved" (Eph 1:6). The only way that we can obtain the status of being elect and beloved, is because of the Elect and Beloved one, Jesus Christ. This notion should not lead us to deny individual election in favor of an indeterminate, corporate election (a nameless, faceless mass of people termed: "elect"), but rather, is the source and bedrock for every elect individual. Because we are in Christ by faith, we share in all of his blessings; as Christ, so the church.

Did Paul write Ephesians?

Many of us, I would assume, have never doubted whether we should believe that the writers to our beloved New Testament epistles are who they claim to be. The very fact that Paul begins all of his letters with his name [along with the names of his occasional co-authors] is good enough for us. We take it as an article of faith. However, as is often the case in the world of higher-critical scholarship, disputes concerning Paul's actual authorship abound. None more so than Ephesians.

The first reason why many have doubted that Paul really wrote Ephesians is that the letter is so different from the rest of his other letters. There is, for example, unique vocabulary and phrases that Paul doesn't employ elsewhere. Not only that, there is a perceived emphasis in theology that many scholars say is different, even contradictory to the theological issues that are taught in the rest of Paul's known corpus. The author to the Ephesians seems too focused upon the institutional church, in their opinion, to really be the apostle Paul, who was more focused upon an individual's personal religious experience and the free association of like-minded believers.

Aside from a faulty theology of the church, this position assumes that the apostle Paul was incapable of having a wide-ranging vocabulary and that He would never use different (yet similar) words or phrases to convey the same concepts. Likewise, this position also entails that Paul's theology was one-dimensional, and that he could not apply different theological points to different issues that confronted the various churches whom he was writing. Do these men forget Paul's vast education and intellect?

The second reason why many doubt Pauline authorship of Ephesians is that the book is too much like Paul. You may be asking at this point: "How can Ephesians be not like Paul and too much like Paul at the same time?" Well, as you may already have guessed, the book of Ephesians is remarkably similar to the book of Colossians; they are traditionally known as "sister epistles." Rather than explain their similarity by assuming that they are from the same author, many scholars suggest that one is a copy of another. Typically, therefore, Ephesians is explained away as a product of a pseudonymous author who is borrowing from another one of Paul's works.

What we find in Ephesians, however, is not a cut-and-paste product that reeks of pure plagarism, but a brilliant treatise that teaches similar ideas, while applying them in different ways. Certainly, this is Paul's prerogative and to suggest somehow that Paul would not or could not do this is the height of arrogance in my opinion. To conclude, I appreciate this quote taken from Carson, Moo, and Morris' Introduction to the New Testament: “Which is more likely – that an imitator of Paul in the 1^st century composed a writing 90 to 95% in accordance with Paul’s style or that Paul himself wrote a letter diverging 5 to 10% from his usual style?”

Finally, many scholars doubt Paul's authorship of Ephesians because the book is not friendly enough. What I mean is that there are relatively few personal greetings at the end (or anywhere else, for that matter) of the letter. We know that Paul spent a significant amount of time living in Ephesus, over two years, in fact (Acts 19:10). One would expect therefore, a lengthy list of personal greetings like those found elsewhere in his writings (cf. Romans 16, and keep in mind that Paul hadn't even been to Rome!). Is this not a sign of forgery?

I would first respond to this by saying that no one can be completely sure why Paul wrote the way he did, but to automatically assume that it can't be him is a big mental leap for me. What we do know is that Paul was sending the letter to the Ephesians by a man named Tychicus, who was to report on all of Paul's exploits and, we would assume, to also give personal greetings. Perhaps Paul wanted to save space on the parchment he was writing on, who knows? Another explanation that is given is that Ephesians was meant to be a circular letter, that is one that was not intended for any particular city, but rather, was to be copied and sent around from church to church in Asia Minor. Certainly, if this was the case, we would not expect to see any personal greetings. To bolster this argument, there is some textual evidence that we have that proponents point to. In some of our really good manuscripts, the words "in Ephesus" in 1:1 are not there. Perhaps these are copies of this apparent circular letter that did not originate from the Ephesian's copy of the letter. While this theory may or may not be true, one thing is sure, Paul was certainly not rude to his audience and his tone of writing was certainly appropriate to the occasion.

How to read a letter... continued.

[For the first part of this entry, see below]

3. Letters must be read literarily.

I think it is a very common notion that when Paul sat down to write to the Romans or the Ephesians, for example, that he just grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down a few thoughts the same way you and I write an email or other casual correspondence. But the fact of the matter is that the New Testament epistles are all literary works in their own right, often full of many complex and intriguing elements. Passages like Philippians 2 or Colossians are thought to be actual "hymns" or poems that were no doubt sung by the early Christians. We must give care to study not only what the apostles taught, but also how they said it.

4. Letters must be read theologically.

New Testament epistles are theological to be sure, but not always in the way that we assume. When we think of theological works, I bet many of us think of some thick tome or even multiple volumes with thin pages and tiny font where one can look up just about any theological topic and read all that one would ever want to know about it. This is known as "systematic theology." New Testament epistles are not systematic theology. When one seeks to understand what specific authors are saying in specific literary works, he or she is engaging in "Biblical theology." Paul, nor any of the other apostles, never wrote an exhaustive treatment on a particular theological subject. He wrote what he felt was necessary to address the particular needs of his readers. It is the job of the systematic theologian to look at the whole of Scripture and see what all of the relevant passages teach on specific theological topics. The two methods are not opposed to each other, rather they are complimentary.

5. Letters must be read authoritatively.

When reading these letters in the New Testament, we must always remember that we are not reading merely the words of men (they are certainly that), but we must always remember that they are also the very words of God. The doctrine of inspiration teaches that God the Holy Spirit worked with a particular author's knowledge, education, experience, temperament, feelings, desires, fears, hopes, etc. to produce the word of God. This is true of the whole of Scripture ("plenary"), down to the very words ("verbal"). That Paul was acutely aware of the fact that he was writing with such authority is clear in all of his letters, especially at the opening when he almost always mentions the fact that he was an apostle. An apostle was an emissary or an ambassador that spoke on behalf of the Lord with equal authority (it is for this reason that there are no apostles today).

May you have fruitful reading!

How to read a letter...

As 21st century Americans, we have an historically unprecedented amount of access to the Word of God. Whether it's an old copy on your shelf, a Gideon's Bible in a hotel room, or even an audio MP3, it seems that the Scriptures are ubiquitous in our society. But even though personal Bible-reading is at an all-time high, it does not necessarily mean that everyone is profiting from it.  In other words, not all Bible-reading is created equal. Part of the problem is that people do not recognize the fact that the Scriptures contain various genres that were composed by numerous people throughout a significant amount of time. In order to fully understand the various books of Scripture, they will have to be read in subtle, yet different ways. 

One of the major genres which we encounter in the New Testament is that of the "epistle" or "letter."  Whether it's the 13 letters written by the apostle Paul, or the "general epistles" of James, Peter, John, and Jude, what we have in our possession are real correspondence from real individuals to real congregations in the first century world. In order to fully appreciate this part of Scripture, here are a few guidelines for profitable reading:

1. Letters must be read as a whole. 

How often do you get a letter from a friend and instead of reading from beginning to end in one sitting, you read a few paragraphs, then stop, a few days later you read the end, and then you sporadically read random sections over the next few weeks. Certainly this is NOT the proper way to read a letter. In the first century church the New Testament canon was still being composed, and when a church got a letter from one of the apostles (like Peter or Paul), they would assemble together (typically on the Lord's Day) and have it read out-loud in one sitting. This way, they were able to know the context of what the apostle was saying to them. One of the biggest reasons why particular Bible verses are misunderstood today is due to the fact that they were taken out of their context. The best way to insure that you are properly understanding what is being said in New Testament letters, is to read them in their immediate and broader context. 

2. Letters must be read historically.

Part of knowing a letter's broader context is to have, as best we can, an understanding of the historical situation in which particular letters were composed. As I mentioned above, these are real letters, written by real people to real churches. Gaining a knowledge of what was going on in certain situations helps immensely. This always involves a bit a guess work, but the evidence that one looks for is classified as "internal" and "external." Internal evidence are those things which we read within the text itself. External evidence are clues that we gain from other extant documents (the Book of Acts is key), as well as the tradition that we have from the Early Church. Some of the letters in the New Testament are known as "occasional" letters. This does not mean that they were written every once in a while, but that their writing was precipitated by a certain occasion. Sometimes they preceded a visit or served as a follow up letter after one. Other churches were in the midst of controversy or under the sway of various heresies. Those letters where the occasion[s] seems to be the overriding interest of the author are a bit like hearing a one-sided phone conversation; you only hear the person your with, but you still can piece together what's being said. This is the same way we can figure out what heresies Paul confronted or what issues plagued the early church. 

coming soon... 3 more ways in which letter ought to be read.

"If you have seen me..."

Scripture is emphatically clear that no man has ever seen God (Exo 33:20; John 1:18; I John 4:12). This is the reasoning behind the second commandment which is against making a graven image. In Deuteronomy 4:15-19, Moses warns the Israelites to make sure that they keep this command by reminding them that when the Lord spoke to them out of the midst of the fire in Horeb, they saw no "form" of God. Therefore, they should not try to replicate or represent God in any way. 

In the upper room on the night before Christ's death, he told his disciples that he is the way, the truth and the life, and that no one can come to the Father except through him (John 14:6). One of his disciples must have been a bit confused, because he responded by saying to Christ, "Show us the Father, and it will be enough." After expressing a bit of frustration at the fact that even his closest friends still didn't get, Jesus responds, "Whoever has seen me has seen the Father" (v.9). In other words, what God didn't do on Mount Horeb with the Israelites so many years prior, he did do in the incarnation of his only begotten Son.  Jesus Christ is the revelation of God for all the world to see. 

Having this understanding, we can now ask the practical question: "Are images of Jesus Christ permissible?" This question is further complicated when we consider the fact that we have no idea what Jesus looked like. There is no authentic portrait or description of him that we have, nor did he or the gospel writers see the need to provide us with one. When people attempt to portray Jesus, they usually produce a stereotypical "Jesus" (i.e. a white man with a beard and long hair). If I, as a married man, carried a picture of another woman in my wallet and showed it to people when they asked to see my wife, you would think I was insane!  If people really wanted to know who my wife is, an accurate picture, and not just of some random girl, must be used. Likewise, when Jesus says, "If you have seen me..." it must really be Jesus that we see. 

When Peter writes, some 30 years after the Ascension of Jesus, to Christians living in Asia Minor he says concerning their Lord, "Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory" (1 Peter 1:8). You see, Peter has no problem with Christians not having ever seen Jesus or even knowing what he looks like; they still can have a relationship with him. But that is not all there is, because Peter also speaks of a "blessed hope," which includes nothing less than seeing the risen Lord upon his return in glory. As John reminds us in his first epistle "We know that when he appears we will be like him, because we shall see him as he is" (1 John 3:2). Having a desire to see Jesus is not wrong, on the contrary, it is to be commended. However, now is not the time, but we must eagerly await the day.  

For more on this issue see: "Iconoclasm, Incarnation, and Eschatology: Toward a Catholic Understanding of the Reformed Doctrine of the 'Second' Commandment," David VanDrunen, International Journal of Systematic Theology, vol. 6 number 2 (April 2004).

For a discussion of how God has provided visible means of grace for us, you can read a new book written by my pastor, Daniel R. Hyde, entitled In living Color: Images of Christ and the Means of Grace, Reformed Fellowship Inc. (Grandville, MI: 2009). 

Get the picture?

The second commandment forbids the manufacturing of any image for the purpose of worshiping it. If the first commandment condemns worshiping false gods, the second commandment condemns worshiping the true God in false ways. Certainly, in our culture at least, idolatry has taken on a more subtle, yet still prevalent, presence.  Everyone knows that God is invisible and that he cannot be imaged. But what about images of Jesus? Since Jesus was a man and men are portrayable, are we allowed to have images of him? If one would observe the home of even a typical Evangelical family in America, he would no doubt find numerous pictures of Jesus: perhaps a children's Bible with him on the cover, or a sentimental painting on the wall, or some sort of Jesus movie, or on a T-shirt, and the list goes on. The Reformers, on the other hand, were very emphatic in their denunciation of any attempt a of portrayal of Jesus Christ, and they did so on the authority of the second commandment. For most Christians today, however, the typical reformed argument seems to be a non sequitur. In other words, the argument: "God may not be imaged in any way, Jesus is true and eternal God, so, Jesus may not be imaged," does not seem to be very persuasive to the vast majority of Christians.  

A common response to the question of whether pictures of Jesus are permissible is that they are alright, as long as we do not worship them.  This is, however, a slippery slope to be on. At what point does the admiration and inspiration one derives from pictures of Jesus cease to be just that and not also some sort of worship and devotion. If indeed, Jesus is a wonderful person and deserving of praise, how are we to clearly divorce in our minds the feelings we get when we view a picture purporting to be Jesus and when we are really offering up worship to him? This is, no doubt, further complicated with those who are coming out of a Roman Catholic background where images of Jesus are expressly given devotion and prayed to.

Another response is that pictures of Jesus should be tolerated to serve as teaching aids for children and the unlearned. This is an identical argument employed by the Roman Catholic church during the Reformation in defense of the stain-glass windows and other images displayed in their churches. They called them "books for the laity," since most parishioners were illiterate and unable to read the Biblical stories themselves. To this argument I can respond with the Heidelberg Catechism #98: "We should not be wiser than God..." In other words, if one observes the entirety of Scripture, he will find that God never instructs his people to produce images to help educate their children in spiritual matters. Rather, what he has ordained is preaching, thus placing emphasis and efficacy in the hearing (not seeing) of the word. 

coming soon... how the incarnation effects our understanding of the second commandment.

God in a Box

Cessationism is the belief that the extraordinary gifts of the Holy Spirit that were given to Christians (including such things as the power to heal, speak in another language, prophecy, etc.) have ceased to exist since the closing of the apostolic era. Charismatics, those who hold to the perpetuity of supernatural gifts, often chide their fellow cessationist brothers in the Lord for being guilty of "putting God in a box." Who are we to say what God can and cannot do? Is He not sovereign? If God wants to work in miraculous ways among his people, is it not sinful to try to limit him? Furthermore, Charismatics challenge cessationists to produce a single verse from Scripture that explicitly states that miraculous gifts will cease at a particular time in redemptive history. As a result, I Corinthians 13:8-12 is often twisted to prove things that it never was meant to say in the first place. 

Of all the objections against cessationism, this has to be the most valid. As forceful as the historical and experiential arguments are, no cessationist would have a leg to stand on if it were not proven in Scripture. We are, after all, people of the Book.  A full and detailed Biblical argument in favor of cessationism is not even close to what you are reading now (for a good start, check out Perspectives on Pentecost, by Richard Gaffin, Jr. [P&R publishing]), but suffice it to say, that not all Biblical doctrines are proven from explicit statements found in Scripture, but rather, are rightly deduced from inductive observations. One clear example is the doctrine of the Trinity.  One would search in vain in Scripture if he was trying to find a single "proof text" that would summarize all the various aspects of the doctrine we know today as the Trinity (e.g. that there is only one God in three distinct Persons). Orthodox Christians, however, have rightly held to this believe in all times and in all places. What I am trying to say is that the Bible can clearly speak on a certain subject without addressing it directly.  

When it comes to the subject of miracles, the uniform testimony regarding them in Scripture is that they are given to validate new revelation given by God. When Moses was at the burning bush, for example, he asked how he would prove that he was not just crazy, but that people would really believe him (Exo 4).  God responded by giving him miracles to perform. When Elijah and Elisha prophesied against to the Northern kingdom of Israel who had all but abandoned belief in Yahweh in favor of Baal worship, they were given the ability to work miracles to show that their God was superior (e.g. Baal was the storm god who brought rain and Elijah brought a drought for 3 1/2 years!). In the New Testament we find another deluge of miracles with the ministry of Christ and the apostles in the Gospels and Acts. In short, we find clusters of miracles given in Redemptive History whenever new and significant revelation of God is proclaimed. This is confirmed by the writer to the Hebrews who speaks of the new revelation given by Christ which was in turn "attested by those who heard" (i.e. "the apostles") and then to validate the message, we read, "God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will" (2:3-4). 

Here we find a clear Biblical teaching on the purpose of miracles: they are given to validate new revelation. If we rightly believe that the canon is closed and no more new revelation is being given by God, what purpose remains for supernatural gifts? 

Can God work miracles today? Yes, he can and he does. Are we putting God in a box? No, we are only trying to have a Biblical perspective on  how he has revealed himself and his actions. 

How'd you like another black eye?

Popular treatments of the Reformation have latched onto the sensational story of the burning of Michael Servetus in Calvin's Geneva. Indeed, this has become a proverbial "black eye" for those who identify themselves as Reformed Christians; it is not something we're terribly proud of.  Well, it may or may not come as a surprise to you to learn that this was not the only case of well-known and influential Reformers being involved in the execution of a heretic.  

To make a long story short: Johann Sylvan was a minister and superintendent in the Palatinate during the 1560's till the early 1570's. He had made the transition from a Roman Catholic priest to a Lutheran to nominally Reformed over the course of about ten years. Although there is no evidence concerning his involvement with the formation of the Heidelberg Catechism, he did take part in the translation of the  New Testament for the Heidelberg Bible.  Although his aloofness as a pastor led to popular resentment, it was the controversy over the introduction of a presbyterial church government that revealed his religious dissent. It became clear that Sylvan not only favored the Zwinglian style of church government (controlled by the magistrate), but he also revealed affinity for Zwingli's purely memorial view of the Supper. He feared that even Calvin's view of a "Spiritual presence" led to idolatry due to God's utter transcendence. 

Sylvan's demise was further solidified with his association with those who held anti-trinitarian beliefs. One of these men, Adam Neuser, was, at one point, minister of St. Peter's Church in Heidelberg. Neuser had authored a confession of faith in 1570 which explicitly denied the Trinity, labeling it unbiblical and an invention of the early church fathers. He ended up fleeing to Turkey where he converted to Islam and also was an alcoholic. Sylvan was also planning an escape, but he was not so lucky. Once in custody, Fredrick III was torn about what to do with him.  While the civic judges favored corporal punishment for Sylvan, religious leaders, including our own Olevianus and Ursinus, wanted to make an example out of him. Johann Sylvan was beheaded on December 23, 1572 in the Heidelberg market square, even after making an apparent recantation of his views. To his credit, Fredrick III vowed to care for Sylvan's wife and child.

As modern-day readers, we may be at a loss about what to make of all of this. First, I think it is important to not judge these individuals with the same standard that we have today. While not excusing their sin, understanding that these were men of their times helps us to see that their actions were not out of the ordinary or especially heinous. Heresy was often a capital punishment as it also was viewed as a type of treason against the throne, especially for those who held public office. Religious dissent was not handled all that well (to say the least). 

Secondly, it is important for us to keep in mind that the church of Christ, as it is manifested here on earth, has never been without sin or fault. This is, of course, because God has so chosen to govern his church with sinful men. There has never been, nor will there ever be in this life, a so-called Golden Age of the church where everything is pure and pristine (even the first-century church had its problems!). As Christians we should pray for those sinful men that God has chosen to rule his church that He would lead them to all truth by his word and Spirit.  

Why Six Days?

I used to think that the main reason why we are told in the opening chapters of Genesis that God created the world in six days was to be able to contradict the evolutionist's claim that it happened over billions of years. In retrospect, however, it seems a tad anachronistic to think that Moses could have been polemicizing against a theory that wasn't developed until over 3,000 years later! While Moses was indeed polemicizing (not plagiarizing!) against other Ancient Near Eastern creation myths, it is his masterful way of narrating the creation account that draws our attention. 
I would like to briefly discuss the literary aspects of the opening chapters of Genesis. If one focuses solely on the chronological details of Genesis 1, they may miss what I think is one of Moses' main points in his six day outline. For example, the first three days of creation describe the creation of light & darkness, waters & sky, and earth & vegetation, respectively. 

The next three days describe the creation of the sun, moon & stars, fish & birds, and animals & man, respectively. When placed side-by-side, one can see how the first three days correspond to next three. What we see in the first set of days are the creation of different realms and in the second set we see the creation of the respective rulers of those realms. The sun, moon and stars rule the heavens, the fish and birds rule the seas and skies, and animals and man rule the land. The fact that the creation of man takes place on the final day of creation highlights man's supremacy over the rest of creation. Certainly, the way Moses describes the creation of man in God's image sets him apart from the rest of God's creation. Indeed, God, as it where, saved the best for last when he created man to be the great ruler over all the rest of his creation  and thereby mirror the dominion that the Triune God exercises over all things. 

Indulge me for a while.

I recently read in the news that the practice of the Roman Catholic Church offering indulgences is making a resurgence (read about this here). As I read the article, I began to wonder what Martin Luther would have thought. As many of you already may know, it was the issue over the selling of indulgences that Luther initially launched his public criticisms of the Roman Catholic church. Indulgences are defined as the removal of temporal punishment for sins that have already been forgiven. You see, since Rome distinguishes between the removal of guilt and the actual punishment for sin, there remains a necessary step in the Roman Catholic system that Christians must undergo prior to entering heaven (hence: Purgatory). In order to limit one's time spent in Purgatory, the church offered, for the right price, indulgences. As Johann Tetzel, the famed indulgence preacher said, "When a penny in the coffer rings, a soul from Purgatory springs!" This as you can imagine, was a huge money-making enterprise, and also, no doubt, part of the motivation for its modern-day reinstitution.  

But as heinous as this practice may seem to be, it was not the major issue over which the Reformation grew. The move to morally reform corrupt church practices did not begin with Luther, nor did it end with him. As a matter of fact, the Catholic Reformation (A.K.A. Counter Reformation) was all about moral reform, and it was quite successful in cleaning up Rome's act, so to speak. The major issue which the Reformation was all about is the doctrine of justification by faith alone. This is the teaching that Luther, whose theology had matured since the publishing of the 95 Theses, said the Church stands or falls upon. The Reformation was primarily motivated by theological concerns (soteriology in particular) and only secondarily, did moral, political, social, etc. concerns enter in.  Rome's answer to the Reformation, the council of Trent, understood this well. Trent did much to reform corrupt practices within, but perhaps its most emphatic denunciations were reserved for anyone who holds the doctrine of justification by faith alone (they receive an anathema).  This is what sets the Reformers apart from Rome as well as the Anabaptists; both denied any notion of imputation of Christ's righteousness in favor of a realist notion of salvation (i.e. God declare you righteous, only if you are really righteous). Moral corruption is nothing new (or unique to Rome, for that matter), what is important, however is the gospel. 

Sacraments and Discipline

We've already seen the inter-connected relationship that preaching has with the administration of the sacraments and discipline (see below), but what relationship, if any, do the sacraments have with godly church discipline? These two marks of a true church have much to do with one another in that they both are essential aspects of the Christian communion. 

Baptism, as it was instituted by Christ in Matthew 28, is obviously an initiatory rite for those entering into the church. Its covenantal significance is seen in Christ's choice of the preposition "into" (eis, in Greek). When we were baptized, we were not just baptized "in" the name, that is by divine authority, but we were also baptized "into" the name of the Triune God. This terminology is freighted with covenantal significance. In the ancient world, the name of the god that one worshiped would be called out durning one's initiation; it was said that the divine name was placed "upon" the devotee. This is the same language used of the Aaronic benediction in Numbers 6, when God says in verse 27, "So shall they put my name upon the people of Israel, and I will bless them." In other words, when we were baptized, we were baptized into a relationship with God, where he promises that he will be our God and we will be his people (the essence of the covenant). 

If baptism gets us into the covenant people of God, so to speak, the Lord's Supper provides us sustenance once we are in. Unlike the act of baptism, which need only be done once, the Lord's Supper ought to be taken regularly in order to continue to nourish our souls to eternal life. It is a means of assurance for the believer because we know by faith that as certainly as we eat the bread and drink the wine, so certainly has Christ died for our sins. It is given to us because of our sin and failure to assure us of God's love and to strengthen us in our resolve to do good. 
With these things in mind, let us remember that godly church discipline is for those who are within the covenant community (Heb 12:6).  Discipline is not some arbitrary and judgmental task that consistories do to flex their spiritual power, rather, it is done in love and humility in order to restore a fallen brother. It is not for those who are outside, but is a necessary gift from God for his children. We should be thankful for discipline, for it is God's means to keep us in his church. Here we can see the intimate relationship that discipline bears to the sacraments. Discipline is only for baptized members of the covenant community who have gone astray in doctrine or life. Further, the consequence of Christian discipline is to be suspended from the table of the Lord's Supper. This means of assurance salvation is withheld from those who refuse to repent of their sins. Once a brother is brought to a place of repentance and restored, the Lord's Supper is once again offered.  

We see, therefore, that the three marks of a true church as defined in Belgic Confession  art. 29 are non-negotiable.  They are not three random aspects of church life that someone 500 years ago decided that everyone must agree upon. Rather, they are essential character traits that a church must have in order to faithfully carry out God's will. Further, I hope that I have shown how important it is for a church to not just have one of the marks, but all three, in that they bear such intimate relation to each other that in order for a church to carry out one task, the other two must also be present.    

The Keys of the Kingdom

The preaching of the gospel, administration of the sacraments and the exercise of church discipline are the three marks of a true church according to the Belgic Confession of Faith (art. 29). These marks are distinct and important in their own right, however, we do not want to suggest that a church's vitality can survive if one of these marks is neglected. This is because the three marks are so intimately connected and interrelated, that they depend upon one another for a church's ministry to properly function. My previous post showed the relation between preaching and the sacraments, here we will consider the how preaching and church discipline work together. The complimentary nature of these two marks are clearly seen in Heidelberg Catechism #83, which asks: "What are the office of the keys?" to which it responds: "The preaching of the Holy Gospel and Church discipline; by which two things the kingdom of heaven is opened to believers and shut against unbelievers." Working from Matthew 16:19, the Catechism explains the duties of the office bearers of the church and how it is that they posses the authority (delegated by God's word) to open and close the doors of heaven. The preaching of the gospel "opens" heaven to all who accept its promises by faith. However, on the contrary, true gospel preaching declares that the wrath of God abides upon unbelievers and hypocrites so long as they are not converted, and thus heaven is "closed" to them. Likewise, church discipline is carried out upon those who continue to live in sin and after several brotherly admonitions are excluded from the Lord's Table (note: connection between sacraments and discipline) and from the Christian communion, with hopes and prayers that they will repent and be restored.  In short, the gospel is not clearly and accurately proclaimed if people are not told the consequences of continuing in unbelief. How will they know what it means to be saved if they are not told what it is that they are being saved from? Likewise, the preaching of the gospel should always flow into how it is that we as Christians should respond (indicative to imperative... like Paul in Ephesians).  Grace leads to gratitude. Church discipline is the practical outworking of that message.  

Preaching + Sacraments + Discipline = True Church?

In the Belgic Confession art. 29 we find listed the "marks" of a true church. These are the things one should look for in order to "easily recognize" whether an assembly of professing Christians actually constitutes an authentic church of God. They are: the pure preaching of the gospel, the pure administration of the sacraments, and the exercising of church discipline. That's it. This remarkably short list of qualifications is all that the Belgic Confession of Faith requires of churches to have in order to be properly considered a true church. But as short as this list is, many people today would like it to be shorter. What if, for example, a church has faithful preaching where the gospel is clearly heard, however it is a Baptist church, where the sacraments are not done the same way as in Reformed churches? Is it not a true church? Many people, perhaps yourself included, see this view as narrow-minded, if not outright divisive. How on earth can a church were the gospel is preached not be considered a "true church"?!  Why can we not have just one mark, that is pure preaching? But perhaps if one begins to see the intimate relation between each of the marks, one can see how misguided it is to divorce one mark from the others.

Let me be clear, the pure preaching of the gospel (not "the word," in the general sense, which contains both law and gospel, but "gospel" in the specific sense) is the most important mark of a true church. That is why it is always listed first and that is why one is much better off in, say, a Reformed Baptist Church than in a Roman Catholic Church. The preaching of the gospel is the means by which the Holy Spirit creates faith in the hearts of the listeners and without it, no one would be saved. But, in highlighting the importance of gospel preaching, we also see the importance of the sacraments when we remember that they are rightly called "visible words." Reformed theology has always emphasized the fact that the sacraments are not meaningless, empty signs, but rather tangible expressions of gospel itself. Sacraments are the gospel. Read how the Belgic Confession speaks of the sacraments in art. 33: 

[God] truly attached these to the word of the Gospel so that He would put forth before our external senses both the very thing itself that He proclaims to us in His word and also even that which He Himself internally works in our hearts, and finally, so that He would confirm in us, more and more, the salvation that He deemed worthy to communicate to us. For the sacraments are signs and visible symbols of internal and invisible things, through which, as through means, God Himself works in us by the power of the Holy Spirit.

In other words, the sacraments are supplements to the preaching of the gospel, adding an external and immanently practical confirmation to what is already heard. This is why Calvin, and the Reformed tradition with him, insisted that the sacraments always be accompanied by the preaching of the word. So, for a church to have robust gospel preaching and yet fail to properly administer the sacraments, it in effect undermines the full-orbed gospel presentation that Christ has ordained. 

coming soon... the relationship between preaching and discipline. 

What hath Northampton to do with Azusa St.?

Some years back, I was at the home of an ardent Pentecostal acquaintance when I was amazed to see a copy of one of Jonathan Edward's treatises on her dining room table. As a newly Reformed Christian I had assumed that since Edwards was such a strong predestinarian, there was no way that my friend could possibly have been giving the treatise a sympathetic reading...and yet it was highlighted and underlined all over the place! What is it that modern-day Pentecostals find in common with the same one who preached "Sinners in the hands of an angry God." Both are/were committed to bring about revival. Like modern-day Pentecostals, Jonathan Edwards attested to an extraordinary outpouring of the Spirit which led, not only to the alleged conversion of many, but was also accompanied by astonishing experiences in the lives of his townsfolk. Although Edwards was careful to distinguish his reports from other sensational accounts like those of the Quakers, he nevertheless, placed a high priority upon extraordinary religious experience and interpreted these events as actual divine outpourings. This is the same trajectory later followed in the Second Great Awakening and today by Pentecostals, in particular, as well as numerous Evangelicals, in general. 

The hallmark of any claim to an authentic revival (excluding Finney's) is that all is wrought by the divine power of the Spirit. Human-wrought effects, brought about by ordinary means and circumstances, are by definition, not revival. Hence, the almost universal criticism of Charles G. Finney's extravagant claim that revival can be brought about through human means without any need for divine grace. The problem with making such a strong contrast with the First and Second Great Awakening, however, is that human agency and circumstances played a large part in the former as it did in the latter. For example, Edwards' early account of the "awakening" going on in his Northampton made its way across the pond where it was enthusiastically read by the likes of John Wesley and George Whitefield, who in turn, sought to bring about the same results. 

Another human-related means used by Edwards and others was the use of what can be termed, scare tactics. At the height of the Northampton awakening, one of Edwards' own distant relations, committed suicide by slitting his throat. Never one to shy away from interpreting providence, Edwards attributed this tragic event largely to the workings of Satan (I'm sure he had at least something to do with it [cf. Gen 3]).  Since God was doing such an extraordinary work, Edwards reasoned, Satan also must be doing his utmost to stop it. His sermons following the suicide used the deceased as an example of Satan's victim, the obvious application was: don't end up like him.  Edwards heightened the urgency for his parishioners as he attested that "multitudes," who previously never suffered from depression, were suddenly confronted with the temptation to end their own life! It was as if, according to Edwards, Satan came upon them and told them, "'Cut your own throat, now is good opportunity: now, NOW!'" 

What are you eating?

The distinction between divine essence and energies continues to afford us with helpful categories in our theology [if you're not familiar with these distinctions, see below]. Perhaps this is no more evident than in how one formulates their doctrine of the Lord's Supper. The official Roman Catholic view maintains that what is eaten during communion is no longer bread and wine, but the actual (essence) body and blood of Christ. On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the memorialists who say that all that is eaten during communion is merely bread and wine (creaturely realities) and the only edifying aspect of the ceremony is the believer's own pious thoughts and reflections. So who is right? Do the bread and wine really become part of God's own essence or do they merely stay part of God's creation? Once again, we are left looking for a third option. 

Eastern Christianity's classic distinction of divine energies once again lends itself to the classic Reformed doctrine of the Lord's Supper, which teaches that although the elements remain bread and wine, through the working (energies) of the Holy Spirit, by faith we are nevertheless so united to Christ and his work (energies) that we can maintain that as surely as we eat the bread and drink the cup, so surely are our sins forgiven and all the sufferings and obedience that Christ worked (energies) are ours as if we had done them all ourselves (cf. Heidelberg Catechism LD 28). We need not eat Christ's very DNA nor partake of his divine essence in order to receive the benefits of his workings for us.