7 Biblical Reasons for a Figurative Reading of Ezekiel 40-48

7 Biblical Reasons for a Figurative Reading of Ezekiel 40-48

Some, particularly of the dispensational persuasion, take the temple and the accompanying sacrifices revealed in Ezekiel 40-48 as a literal temple and sacrificial system which will be established at the time of the future millennium. My goal is to show how this understanding of Ezekiel 40ff cannot coexist with what is clearly set down in Hebrews 10. And my presupposition is that the epistle to the Hebrews should interpret the related texts of Ezekiel 40ff for us. The New Testament is, after all, an inspired commentary on the Old. I want to also note something about the language of literal interpretation. Much has been made of the literal or the normative interpretive method. Every text, it is thought, must be interpreted literally.

Instead, I propose that the Bible often communicates literal truths through other-than-literal means. For example, the shadows of the animal sacrifices. Were the shadows literal atoning sacrifices? Absolutely not. They did not literally atone for sin. They were typological sacrifices. Yet, is the literal atoning Sacrifice of Christ revealed by means of them? Absolutely! Another example is found in the New Testament, when the church is called a temple. “If anyone defiles the temple of God, God will destroy him. For the temple of God is holy, which temple you are (1 Cor. 3:17).” Does this mean that the church is a literal brick and mortar temple? No. But is this text true and thus literal? Absolutely. There is a literal meaning here communicated through figurative means. All the Bible is literal, but the means through which it communicates literal truths are not always literal, i.e. biblical metaphors always communicate literal (real) things, even though the metaphors themselves are not literal.

In many cases, God uses literal things to signify greater literal things, and this we call typology, e.g. David and Goliath, the temple, the priesthood, Solomon’s wisdom, etc. But in other cases, God will use literary word-pictures, usually given in visions or dreams, to signify literal things, e.g. Ezekiel’s temple, Nebuchadnezzar’s dream (Dan. 2:24-45), etc.

In Ezekiel 40-48, there are several things mentioned which, if taken literally in themselves, will create great conflict with the New Testament, and will end up destroying the gospel altogether if consistently followed through. I want to survey some of the many things mentioned in Ezekiel 40ff which requires us to see it describing a figurative temple, which I believe to be the revelation of Christ and His people (but that’s another article). The following are reasons why Ezekiel 40-48 cannot, in no wise, be taken for a literal, future, brick and mortar temple—

Sin Offerings

“In the vestibule of the gateway were two tables on this side and two tables on that side, on which to slay the burnt offering, the sin offering, and the trespass offering (Ezek. 40:39).” Also see Ezekiel 46. However, Hebrews 10:18 tells us, “Now where there is remission of [sins], there is no longer an offering for sin.” One could make the argument that the “sin offerings” described in Ezekiel 40 are not actually offered for sins, but are only typological. However, that’s exactly what the Old Testament sacrifices were—typological. Hebrews 10:18 is telling us that typological sacrifices no longer exist since the fulfillment of those sacrifices are found in Christ Jesus.

The Levitical Priesthood

“The chamber which faces north is for the priests who have charge of the altar; these are the sons of Zadok, from the sons of Levi, who come near the LORD to minister to Him (Ezek. 40:46).” The majority of the epistle to the Hebrews has thus far belaboured the superiority of Christ’s priesthood over the Levitical priesthood. And it tells us, “We have such a High Priest, who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens, a Minister of the sanctuary and of the true tabernacle which the Lord erected, and not man (Heb. 8:1-2).” If Ezekiel 40ff were taken literally, then it follows the Levitical priesthood is to be reestablished, even though we have a better priest in Christ.

Animal Blood of Consecration

“You shall take some of its blood and put it on the four horns of the altar, on the four corners of the ledge, and on the rim around it; thus you shall cleanse it and make atonement for it (Ezek. 43:20).” Thus, the altar in the Ezeklian temple, if taken literally, is consecrated by animal blood, something Hebrews expressly tells us is but a copy of the heavenly things. Christ came, “Not with the blood of goats and calves, but with His own blood He entered the Most Holy Place once for all, having obtained eternal redemption (Heb. 9:12).” Was His blood not enough?

Fleshly Temple Restrictions

“No foreigner, uncircumcised in heart or uncircumcised in flesh, shall enter My sanctuary, including any foreigner who is among the children of Israel (Ezek. 44:9).” To enter the temple sanctuary, circumcision in the flesh is required. But, according to Acts 15:10, James calles circumcision a “yoke on the neck of the disciples which neither our fathers nor we were able to bear.” And in v. 11, asserts that salvation will take place in the same manner for all who are in Christ, no matter Jew or Gentile. If some are circumcised and others are not, this being a gospel necessity for some people but not others, then salvation is different for some than it is for others, i.e. not in the same manner.

The Ceremonial Feast Days

“In the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month, you shall observe the Passover, a feast of seven days; unleavened bread shall be eaten. And on that day the prince shall prepare for himself and for all the people of the land a bull for a sin offering (Ezek. 45:21-22).” The feast days, however, in the New Covenant, are abolished, “So let no one judge you in food or in drink, or regarding a festival or a new moon or Sabbaths (Col. 2:16).” And, if one were to say, “It’s only the Gentiles who are not to be judged, but the Jews will still keep these ordinances as a matter of conscience,” then they deny what comes after this text, that the new man—which all who are in Christ have put on—is “where there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcised nor uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave nor free, but Christ is all and in all (Col. 3:11).”

The Old Testament Sabbath

“The gateway of the inner court that faces toward the east shall be shut the six working days; but on the Sabbath it shall be opened, and on the day of the New Moon it shall be opened (Ezek. 46:1).” The Sabbath has been changed in the New Covenant, “For the priesthood being changed, of necessity there is also a change in the law (Heb. 7:12).” But this Old Testament Sabbath, where the people work in order to rest, has been abolished as we learn in Colossians 2:16 and in Hebrews 4.

The Living Water

“And it shall be that every living thing that moves, wherever the rivers go, will live. There will be a very great multitude of fish, because these waters go there; for they will be healed, and everything will live wherever the river goes (Ezek. 47:9).” The living water which comes from the right side of the temple must be figurative. For Christ has declared Himself to be the living water, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is who says to you, ‘Give Me a drink,’ you would have asked Him, and He would have given you living water (Jn. 4:10).” And because the people of God are the temple of God, it is from their hearts the living water flows, “He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water (Jn. 7:38).” In John 4:13-14, Jesus says, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, 14 but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.” How does one receive the living water? John 6:35 tells us, “He who comes to Me shall never hunger, and he who believes in Me shall never thirst.”

Calvin, Classical Trinitarianism, & the Aseity of the Son – A Review

Calvin, Classical Trinitarianism, & the Aseity of the Son – A Review

Those of you who are even mildly interested in the big topics of theological discussion taking place online in discussion groups and in academic literature are probably aware of the debate between classical Christian theism and what has been termed theistic personalism or mutualism by men like Drs. James Dolezal, Richard Barcelos, Samuel Renihan, et al. A cognate debate, or a related discussion, is happening in the subsequent locus of theology—that of Trinitarianism. And this debate concerns the ontological status of the Persons within the Godhead, primarily that of the Father and the Son. Eternal Subordination of the Son (ESS) makes the Son derivative in terms of will, and some forms of eternal generation make the Son derivative in terms of being or essence. The former discussion takes place in terms of theology proper, i.e. the unity of the Godhead, the attributes of God, etc., the latter in terms of Trinitarian orthodoxy, or the eternal subsistence of the one, undivided divine essence in the Persons of the Father, of the Son, and of the Spirit.

Dr. Brannon Ellis, in some very important ways, anticipated where both debates find themselves today in a book published in 2012 titled, Calvin, Classical Trinitarianism, & the Aseity of the Son. One of my favorite types of books is one that reveals the mind of the author as he or she wrestles with doctrine and uses the full array of weaponry in biblical, systematic, and historical theological artium. This is exactly the kind of work Ellis has produced. Let’s jump in—

The Author’s Purpose

Calvin’s Trinitarianism is not exactly the easiest thing to devour, and this is less so today as the discussion has become more convoluted with the passing of time. Some authors understand Calvin to be a revisionist of classical Trinitarianism, essentially denying creedal orthodoxy. And others find Calvin following in the footsteps of the early church fathers. [1] This confusion, along with some additional nuance in the introduction, spurred what Ellis unfolds throughout his work. He writes:

The purpose of this work is to explain the significance and explore the implications of Calvin’s approach to thinking and speaking of the Triune God, in light of, and in dialogue with, the set of doctrines in play in the historical debates over Calvin’s claim of aseity for the Son. [2]

For those of you who feel like you’ve just jumped into the deep end of Christian theology, the term aseity denotes God’s self-existence, or more precisely, God as God in Himself, wholly independent of any other. The basic question, “Is the Son, the second Person in the Holy Trinity, God of Himself?” mildly relates the issue of aseity to what Ellis is driving at in this very important volume. But he’s not simply trying to answer the question as it sits, he’s trying to answer the question about Calvin’s understanding of the aseity of the Son, along with, as I took it, proffering a vindication of Calvin’s construal. Ellis writes, “[by] beginning positively to explore several of the most significant and fruitful implications and applications of Calvinian autothean language.” He does this, I believe, most clearly in the last chapter (chapter seven).

Canvassing the Subject-Matter

In the very first chapter, Ellis does something I very much appreciate—he observes Calvin’s starting point at the unity of the Godhead prior to that of trinity. This has largely become a lost practice in some contemporary systematics (cf. Robert Letham’s Systematic Theology). However, he carefully notes the mutual inclusivity of unity in trinity and trinity in unity, moving from the former to the latter in pp. 20-23.

In the first chapter, on p. 24, Ellis remarks, “If we confess God’s Unity apart from Trinity, we do not have incomplete or less precise knowledge of the true God (theism as such); we rather exclude revealed knowledge of the God who is Father, Son, and Spirit in exchange for some imagined form of idolatry, whether of the pantheistic of the monotheistic variety.” As it is stated, I do not agree with this statement. The schoolmen and the Reformers—who assumed much of what they wrote categorically—made a distinction between historical or propositional knowledge and experimental knowledge. Propositional knowledge is had of true things, and in this way, the pagans can “know God (Rom. 1:18-20).” When the Reformers and the post-Reformed speak of “true knowledge,” on the other hand, they mean what we call experimental knowledge, or what we might also call practical knowledge. This comes out in Calvin when he writes:

By the knowledge of God, I understand that by which we not only conceive that there is some God, but also apprehend what it is for our interest, and conducive to his glory, what, in short, it is befitting to know concerning him. For, properly speaking, we cannot say that God is known where there is no religion or piety. [3]

We have to be careful, therefore, to make the distinction between propositional knowledge and experimental knowledge. Calvin is defining knowledge according to the latter.

Romans 1 clearly teaches that the heathen have true propositional knowledge of God, yet that it only results in their condemnation since it does not end in experimental or experiential knowledge, or what Calvin understands to be true knowledge. Ellis most likely understands this, but it sounds as if he is saying “all of God must be known or none of God is known,” and, if left unqualified, this statement would be prima facie false.

Despite the above quandary, the first chapter is packed with important observations. For example, alluding to the centerpiece of Trinitarian hermeneutics, Ellis writes, “Calvin made clear that the fullness of the revealed identity of God as one and three must be brought to bear whenever considering any particular scriptural claim about God.” [4] Quoting Calvin, Ellis adds, “Because where simple and indefinite mention is made of God, this name pertains no less to the Son and the Spirit than to the Father. But as soon as the Father is compared with the Son, the character of each distinguishes the one from the other.” This is all part of the “ruled grammar” Ellis mentions throughout the chapter, and it serves as an important prelogical principle in what comes after.

In the second chapter, Ellis takes to examining the orthodoxy of Calvin’s position in light of “trinitarian and antitrinitarian contexts.” [5] He drops into the conversations between Calvin and Pierre Caroli, the Neuchatel ministers, and Valentine Gentile. This is important in placing Calvin’s views amidst his very own historical context, and the then contemporary development of Trinitarian orthodoxy. He continues interaction between Gentile and others in later chapters.

In the third chapter, Ellis begins discussion on the doctrine of eternal generation and the influence it had upon the general understanding of Trinitarianism, and its special import into the autothean debate. Noting one very important factor in the relationship between the processions and the divinity of the Son, Ellis writes:

In this sense, generation is the Father’s giving of essence that constitutes the Son one only God, and generateness is reception of the same. Because of the manner of his generation, the Son is God the Son with respect to the Father who gives, and God the Son with respect to that which he is given to be. [6]

Eternal generation bears upon the autothean controversy because it is used as a defining principle of the intra-Trinitarian relations, i.e. Father, Son, Spirit. The Son is Son precisely in virtue of His being generated by the Father, and is God precisely because divinity is that which is generated. I would add that the doctrine of eternal generation is how we must understand the distinctions among the Persons in the Trinity. Without eternal generation, Father, Son, and Spirit are meaningless terms nominally applied to the divine essence. Modalism would really be the only consistent result from a rejection of the eternal processions.

In the fourth chapter, Ellis surveys positions such as Unitarianism, which identifies “what trinitarians distinguish.” [7] He also looks at various approaches to the aseity of the Son, again looking at Gentile, then Bellarmine, and even Jacobus Arminius and his followers, the Remonstrants. [8] Arminius rejected autothean language, and Ellis draws out the potential dangers (which actually obtained in his successors) of this denial as follows, “in Arminius’ response to a student’s question during his public disputation, some of the worrisome emphases and conclusions of his subordinationist successors—including the leading lights of the Dutch Remonstrants—may be found in embryo.” [9]

Also in chapter four, Ellis looks at the Socinians and Herman Roell’s responses to Campegius Vitringa. [10] Roell was a Cartesian theologian, and for that reason, would have been at odds with the likes of another Dutch theologian, Petrus Van Mastricht, who would have overlapped Roell in time. Roell rejected subordinationism and, as Ellis states, he “shared Calvin’s insistence on the Son’s aseity,” but he didn’t make the distinction between the processions which naturally communicate the divine essence according to Calvin. [11]

In the fifth chapter, after a somewhat needed contextualization of the matter, Ellis delves into “four arguments against the legitimacy of autothean language.” [12] The four arguments are represented by Bellarmine. The first is akin to a retort if summarized by the question, “If something is communicated from Father to Son, why not the essence itself?” Calvin’s autothean language suggests the Son is God of Himself, which would seem to forbid any speculation that the essence is communicated in any way from Father to Son. This of course would appear to cut against the creedal formulation that the Son is “God of God.” By way of clarification, Ellis helpfully notes:

Calvin did not in fact reject this or any of the ecumenical creeds, but questioned the aptness of some of their wording, due to what he felt was the indirect meaning of ‘God of God’, for instance, or the repetitiveness of the Quicunque—and, most importantly, all his criticism of the creeds occurred in the context of a demand that he and his Genevan colleagues subscribe them at Caroli’s bidding. It is certainly clear from Calvin’s later appeal to an employment of the same creedal phrases in his exchanges with Gentile that he was unwilling to dismiss or reject them.

The issues Calvin took with the creeds, if they can even be called “issues,” were more circumstantial than they were substantial. In other words, Calvin did not take issue with the doctrine of the creeds, though he could have preferred further clarity of their language.

In the sixth chapter, at the outset, moving off of Richard Muller’s prestigious Post Reformed Reformed Dogmatics, Ellis writes, “Muller points out the universal Reformed endorsement of autothean language as a sign of clear continuity between Calvin and the Calvinsits.” [13] Ellis also suggests Calvin was aware of some divergence between his own positions and that of his peers, “the evidence suggests that there was at this early time some awareness of intraconfessional divergence among the Reformed on this theme—which Calvin disapproved of, yet, importantly, did not anathematize.” That which Calvin disapproved was the apparent assertion of essential communication from Father to Son by the likes of Beza and Simler. [14] Yet, Calvin did not understand their respective stances to be heretical, though non-preferably divergent from his own.

Toward the end of the chapter, Bartholomaeus Keckermann and Johann Maccovius, both of whom were no doubt influenced of Calvin, deny essential communication in se, “For the essence—insofar as it is as such, without mentioning mode or order in this essence—does not admit of distinction and communication,” writes Keckermann. [15] Ad extra, or the Godhead as revealed, may be said to admit of some essential communication in terms of how we speak of Father/Son relations. Yet, as considered ad intra, there is not real distinction or communication of essence. Or, to say this another way, the mode of the Son’s existence is communicated of the Father, but not the being.

The title of chapter seven eloquently states, “Of Himself, God Gives Himself.” in this chapter, Ellis takes up “several key aspects of the themes discussed in the chapters above.” [16] Here, Ellis vidicates Calvin’s autothean language as “as self-consistently classical trinitarian positions at this pivotal juncture between oneness and threeness in God.” But Ellis also carves out his own path forward and construes much of it in terms of the incarnation of the Son of God. This leads him to criticize the beatific vision (visio Dei) of the West as well as the theosis of the East. [17]

I would like to pause here for a brief rejoinder concerning an accusation Ellis lays at the feet of Thomas Aquinas. He says, “In the visio Dei, we immediately (and immaterially) contemplate in our souls the very being and perfections of God, through the intelligible form of God’s own essential knowledge.” In contradistinction from this alleged view of the beatific vision, Ellis says, “Yet redemption is not liberation from creaturely finitude or limitations in understanding or ability, but from covenantal rebellion and its curse—from exchanging the glory of the knowledge of God for idols.” [18] Of Western and Eastern conceptions of union with God, he notes in the same place, “Both sorts of ontological participation in God stand in some contrast to the covenantal participation I am advocating here…”

Though a full criticism of what is being said here does not fall within the scope of this review, I must tender a brief response—

  1. Thomas does not argue for any freedom from the goods with which God has created us, but instead understands the visio Dei as a freedom from the privation of good induced through sin, and this freedom results in a perfected, albeit creaturely, knowledge of God. “There resides in every man a natural desire to know the cause of any effect which he sees; and thence arises wonder in men (Summa Theologiae, 1.12.1).”
  2. Thomas is careful to explicitly affirm the knowability of the divine essence while at the same time denying a comprehensive or exhaustive knowability of the divine essence, because incomprehensible. “Hence it does not follow that He cannot be known at all, but that He exceeds every kind of knowledge; which means that He is not comprehended.”
  3. The covenant of grace does not stand in contrast to the visio Dei advocated by Thomas, but is the very place in which we attain the visio Dei. The vision of God is promised as one of the free, covenant blessings of the New Covenant, “Blessed are the pure in heart, For they shall see God (Matt. 5:8).” And, “Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is (1 Jn. 3:2).”

Moreover, it must be remembered that the language in Hebrews 1:3 necessitates that Christ Himself is the express image of this God whom we shall see upon our glorification. For He is, “the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person.” If Ellis agrees with this, it would seem he would end up in the same place Thomas does, with a vision of God Himself. The alternative Ellis proposes are, “the Reformed doctrines of covenant and analogy,” yet the latter is almost always explicitly lifted from Thomas, especially in post-Reformed literature, (cf. Stephen Charnock’s Existence and Attributes of God, & Peter Van Mastricht’s Theoretical-Practical Theology, vol. 2).

Conclusion

Criticism aside, Ellis’ work is extremely important and should be assigned as a textbook in graduate systematic theology courses. I would even recommend it to an able and interested layperson for their own personal edification. Ellis’ departure from my understanding of Calvin, with regard to true knowledge, and Thomas, with regard to the visio Dei (mentioned above), are, I believe, departures made in good faith. Ellis’ desire is to exalt Christ. And where I depart from his articulation, I can do so with understanding.

Today’s price on this volume is beyond what most people are willing to pay for a 250-page book, coming in at a cool $107. This makes it mostly inaccessible to anyone who is not a student, which is unfortunate. But this is tangential, and not Ellis’ fault. Moreover, if my memory serves me right, this is Ellis’ doctoral dissertation, and so, if you were to ask him, he may agree with the price set on Amazon (and may even like to see it raised!).

In closing, I want to thank Tyler Simnick over at Oxford University Press for providing me with a review copy of this volume (all the way back in 2017 no less!). I’m just glad I was able to finally put together a review. I hope it has been helpful to both anyone looking to purchase the volume for further research, and to those who are new to this discussion, yet highly motivated to learn more.

Finally, thank you Brannon Ellis for such a thorough work on the autothean controversy and the way in which a beloved theological hero, John Calvin, skillfully navigated its waters. This volume is surprisingly vast and substantially fulfilling, especially considering its relatively short length.

Bibliography

  1. Brannon Ellis, Calvin, Classical Trinitarianism, & the Aseity of the Son, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 6-7.
  2. Ibid., 9.
  3. Calvin, John. The John Calvin Collection: 12 Classic Works. Waxkeep Publishing. Kindle Edition.
  4. Ellis, Calvin, Classical Trinitarianism, & the Aseity of the Son, 31.
  5. Ibid., 37.
  6. Ibid., 84.
  7. Ibid., 105.
  8. Ibid., 112.
  9. Ibid., 114.
  10. Ibid., 128.
  11. Ibid., 136.
  12. Ibid.,141.
  13. Ibid., 169.
  14. Ibid., 173.
  15. Ibid., 187.
  16. Ibid., 197.
  17. Ibid., 217.
  18. Ibid., 217-18.
The King & His Throne

The King & His Throne

It was May 14, 1948, just a few years after the end of the war, when David Ben-Gurion declared Palestine to be an Israeli nation-state. Then U. S. President, Harry Truman, joined Ben-Gurion in recognizing Israel’s sovereignty. Since that time, discussion surrounding the biblical significance of the reconstitution of “Israel” has erupted. Trying to describe the extent to which this geo-political development has been shoved into biblical interpretation would perhaps be the understatement of the millennium (pun intended). Political Zionism has been fused with Christian theology in a sometimes unhealthy and, I would argue, an altogether wrong way.

The advent of the political nation of Israel spurred an immediate materialism in terms of what Jesus’ kingdom actually was/is. What do I mean? I mean that Christ’s kingdom, as well as His kingship, became nigh entirely visible, which meant that it could in no wise obtain at present. Christ is not yet king because He does not yet rule in Israel. Dwight Pentecost writes:

David’s son, the Lord Jesus Christ, must return to the earth, bodily and literally, in order to reign over David’s covenanted kingdom. The allegation that Christ is seated on the Father’s throne reigning over a spiritual kingdom, the church, simply does not fulfill the promises of the covenant … A literal earthly kingdom must be constituted over which the returned Messiah reigns (Things to Come, pp. 114,115).

For Pentecost, Christ has a non-literal (?) kingdom now, and will have a literal kingdom later. There is an implied reduction going on here between the Father’s kingdom, i.e. throne, on the one hand, and the Son’s (Davidic) kingdom on the other. And there is a distinction made in places like Revelation 3:21, “To him who overcomes I will grant to sit with Me on My throne, as I also overcame and sat down with My Father on His throne.” Christ’s throne, it is imagined, will be the throne established in political Israel, and the Father’s throne is the heavenly throne.

Some Clarity

It is fair to say Christ’s throne and the Father’s throne are distinguishable along the lines Revelation 3:21 distinguishes them. I believe it is also fair to understand a future element in the throne of Christ. The promise to the saints, after all, is, “I will grant the overcomers to sit with Me on My throne.” But to relegate the throne of Christ to some material and geographical thing is, in my estimation, to devalue the concept. Moreover, to make the throne of Christ entirely future neglects other texts found in Scripture which speaks to Christ’s throne. For example, “To the Son He says, ‘Your throne, O God, is forever and ever; A scepter of righteousness is the scepter of your kingdom (Heb. 1:8).’” This is Christ’s throne being spoken of here. This is confirmed by looking at Psalm 45:6, 7, from whence Hebrews 1:8 is taken— “You love righteousness and hate wickedness; Therefore God, Your God, has anointed You With the oil of gladness more than Your companions.” This throne, scepter, and kingdom are each part of a coextensive unit which came as a result of Christ’s finished work. Christ was victorious at His first coming, “Therefore God, Your God, has anointed You With the oil of gladness more than your companions.”

In John 1:49, Nathaniel declares Jesus to be the King of Israel. And in 12:13, on Palm Sunday, Jesus is announced, “The King of Israel!” In Matthew 2:2, the Wise Men came, saying, “Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.” In Zechariah 9:9, we read, “your King is coming to you; He is just and having salvation, Lowly and riding on a donkey, A colt, the foal of a donkey.” This prophecy was fulfilled in Matthew 21, where Jesus is consciously declaring Himself to be King through His very intentional fulfillment of Zechariah 9:9. When the Pharisees told Him to rebuke the disciples for declaring His royalty, He responded, “I tell you that if these should keep silent, the stones would immediately cry out,” signifying His kingship over, not only Israel, but all creation (Rom. 4:13).

The Good Confession

There are several places where Christ’s past, present, and future kingship are asserted. Yet one of the most striking places, perhaps one of the places less thought of as a “kingship” text, is 1 Timothy 6:13, “I urge you in the sight of God who gives life to all things, and before Christ Jesus who witnessed the good confession before Pontius Pilate.” In v. 12, Timothy is said to have also confessed the good confession. It’s not immediately clear what these two confessions are. Assumedly, they are the same confession, or at least, what Timothy confessed was something first confessed by Christ. Timothy, then, followed in Christ’s footsteps by making this same confession.

Paul gives us a hint as to where to find this good confession. He says Jesus witnessed it “before Pontius Pilate.” And he hints at the confession’s identity in v. 15, “which He will manifest in His own time, He who is the blessed and only Potentate, the King of kings and Lord of lords.” Not only does Paul clearly understand Jesus as a King presently, and presently ruling, i.e. “only Potentate,” but he is also referencing a place wherein Jesus declared Himself to actually and presently be King. In John 18:37, we read:

Pilate therefore said to Him, “Are You a king then?” Jesus answered, “You say rightly that I am a king. For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.”

What was the “good confession” Christ made before Pontius Pilate? It was nothing less than His kingship. In fact, Jesus goes further by saying, “For this cause I was born.” And, of course, this cause was declared in Luke 1:32 by the angel Gabriel, “He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David.” It is stated once more in Acts 2:30, “Therefore, being a prophet, and knowing that God had sworn with an oath to him that of the fruit of his body, according to the flesh, He would raise up the Christ to sit on his throne.”

Conclusion

I am perfectly fine with understanding a future, or consummative significance to Christ’s inherited throne, i.e. the throne of David. But what many in dispensational circles have done is move any and all of Christ’s kingly reality into the future—to the harm of the text of Scripture I might add. Instead, I think we should understand Christ’s kingship as having been inaugurated at His first coming, especially with the fulfillment of His work. Yet, we await the consummation, or completion, of that kingship upon His return.

I also do not see the need to locate Christ’s kingly rule in a political nation established through carnal means and built up by the hands of men. In fact, I believe that degrades the glory of Christ, and it also misunderstands the function of typology, e.g. that found in 2 Samuel 7 and elsewhere. Christ does not have to possess the throne of His father David as David possessed it. In fact, if David and His throne were typological of Christ and His throne, and they were, then the type necessitates Christ actually inherit something other and greater than what David had. Just as Christ hasn’t merely merited a return to the garden state, but something greater, so too Christ has merited a greater throne toward which David’s throne in historical Israel could only look.

3 Steps to Humility (According to People on Facebook)

3 Steps to Humility (According to People on Facebook)

Below are three tips on how to make everyone think you’re humble in a Facebook discussion, courtesy of all the keyboard saints out there:
 
 
1) Assume your interlocutor is motivated by pride. Make sure this somehow comes out in the conversation so that everyone sees you as the lowly victim.
 
2) Boast in your Christian experience. This automatically makes you appear wiser than the other person. And it will make the other person look arrogant, “How dare he take on a seasoned Christian!” onlookers will think.
 
3) Make sure to include plenty of “God bless you’s” and “blessings to you’s,” and throw in (my favorite), “I’m praying for you.” The more passively condescending, the better. This way, people will know you actually, truly care about the other person.
 
 
You might even boost your humility points if you film yourself praying on a street corner and then post that into the conversation as well. Then there will be absolute proof of your humility, because humility is to be judged by mere outward appearances (don’t worry it’s in the Bible, I read it somewhere).
The Amalgamated Man

The Amalgamated Man

Something about humanity has drastically changed over the last few centuries. Consider the contrast between the 17th century man and the 21st century man. At the risk of overgeneralizing, the 17th century man accomplished more in forty years than the 21st century man might accomplish in a lifetime. Often, twelve-year olds were more educated than today’s average adult, having a rather large vocabulary and even a multilingual education. Prior to the 18th century, it was not altogether uncommon to find men of the educated class who were experts in multiple fields of study. Today, everyone seems to be relatively educated, but almost no one could consider themselves as an expert in multiple career fields. Today, even individual sciences have further specifications the average schoolman might master.

Little to none of this massive shift should be attributed to genetics. Nor should we venture to blame it solely on the rise of technology (although it is not altogether unrelated). The cause seems instead to rest within the rise of modern psychology as a primary interpretive or observational science of man. Though observational in nature, psychology has, relatively recently, taken a formative role in terms of how man thinks about himself. What’s worse is the extent to which man’s psychologically-driven understanding of himself is anachronistically imposed upon figures from the past. In other words, history has been affected by man’s contemporary understanding of his current self.

Modern psychology tends to see man as an amalgamation of traits, properties, or attributes. It doesn’t begin, per se, with personhood defined as imago Dei (image of God). Instead, it approaches man as a conglomerate of personality traits and passions (especially sexual, a la., Freud). More than this, it inadvertently casts individual persons into personality molds. Once psychology assesses a person’s personality at any given life-stage, it issues a decree: “This person is X, Y, or Z.” The (perhaps unintended) effect? The assessed person goes on casting themselves as an X, Y, or Z personality. Much like a placebo, modern psychology, in its mere exercise of observation, inevitably begins to shape a person’s beliefs about him or herself.

Imagine, for example, a young boy who, throughout grade-school, is constantly berated for his love of the arts. “You’re gay!” his classmates might jest. Or, “You’re weak!” the jocks might shout in the hallway. It is no wonder a boy who hears such descriptions of himself for years on end might begin to actually believe them. Something similar happens within modern educational and psychological structures (which permeate almost every institution). In education, for example, there is now the concept of specialty. Gone are the days when medical doctors address multiple aspects of the human body. Increasingly, they concern themselves only with neurology, to name one example. And then, even within neurology, there are sub-specialties. This doesn’t only occur within the medical field, where complexity may demand more refined areas of study and thus more laborers. It also occurs in the liberal arts. Now, we could speculate as to why this is. It certainly doesn’t hurt the profit margin of colleges and universities, does it? But I’m more interested in what this has done to the modern man—

A white-collar man is now assumed to be aloof from all blue-collar work. Blue-collar men are too “simple” to converse with the white-collar class. And often times this is truly the case. But it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. There was a day when this was not the case. Those who had access to the tools of education were often not distant nor ignorant of various, practical trades. For example, William Kiffen, a Baptist minister in 17th century England, was an astute and pastoral theologian. Yet, he was one of the more wealthy men in England, granted his skillful business arrangements as a merchant. Benjamin Keach was a brewmaster (of all things), and made part of his living from such. John Owen, the good doctor himself, was chaplain to Oliver Cromwell, and was with him in the Scotch-Irish conquests. Moving backward in time, Albert the Great was a medieval physician, theologian, and philosopher. Of course, the most popular example of a man who concerned himself with multiple sciences is Leonardo DaVinci, but he wasn’t an island unto himself. There were others before and after the Renaissance who understood themselves as capable images of the divine.

We now have all sorts of personality assessment tools used in the corporate and academic world. These may be helpful in terms of communication and work-relationship improvement. But they’ve almost become definitive of how people think of themselves. If the test says the person is a strong personality, prone to less relatability having a more task-driven bent, that person may think, “This is my personality, and none else.” They implicitly trick themselves, thenceforth, into thinking they are unable to adapt to circumstances which may not conduce to their “personality type.”

As alluded to above, this thought process has been anachronistically superimposed upon Christ. In his recent, somewhat helpful, book, Gentle and Lowly, Dane Ortlund struggles to centralize the Person of Christ around a single quality, i.e. His lowliness. But this struggle is a self-inflicted wound made by the knife of modern psychology. If modern psychology sees man as an amalgamation of qualities, properties, or emotions, then it follows one such property must win out. This is a struggle arising from the faulty starting-point of modern psychology, where the nature is almost entirely absent from the conversation, while behavioral traits are the sole definitional factors in determining the nature of a person. Instead of nature giving way to various accidents and behavioral characteristics, behavioral characteristics and emotional dispositions define and even determine the nature. This is backwards, and it explains the constant teetertotter in Ortlund’s Gentle and Lowly, where he wants to affirm the centrality of Christ’s gentleness, but also wants to avoid detracting from other crucial properties of His Person (cf. ch. 3).

Modern psychology apparently sees man much like a playdough figurine. He’s compose of all different colors of playdough, some colors being more prevalent than others. The modern psychologist, upon observing what he thinks to be more prevalent colors, makes a diagnosis, and this diagnosis declares the man to be a static instantiation of his most habitual color. He cannot escape that diagnosis, no matter how hard he might want to. He is simply stuck that way. Such is the way of the contemporary opposition toward “deconversion therapy” of homosexuals, and the oft-parroted licentious statement, “I was born this way! I cannot change!” The psychologist has defined his patient, and now his patient must always think of himself according to the psychologist’s definition.

In closing, what if we stopped thinking of mankind this way? What if we understood each an every person to be, first and foremostly, a creation of God which bears God’s image. And then, what if we defined God’s image according to what God actually says it is? If we did that, I think we would have another Renaissance. And given the unprecedented availability of resources today (contra to the 17th century), we wouldn’t only have a few Leonardo DaVincis or Albertus Magnuses, we’d have countries full of them. The change agent in all of this, of course, is the gospel. It is the gospel which teaches us who man was, what man’s problem is, and where man’s restoration and glorification is found, i.e. in Christ Jesus alone (who, by the way, was a carpenter, a fisherman, a peripatetic philosopher-teacher, and orator—a nice blend of blue and white collars).