Slaying the Nephilim

Slaying the Nephilim

by | Feb 26, 2021 | Biblical Theology, Eschatology

This is a part 2 of 2 in my miniseries on giants.

In the last post, I focused on the immediate or historical sense of Genesis 6:4. In this post, I will look at the redemptive nature of the giant theme, which only just begins in Genesis 6:4, and then make application to our present day situation as Christians. Before I begin, let me first answer the charge of an “allegorical” or “spiritual interpretation” of the text, which is bound to be leveled at this post by some—

There is a difference between an unbridled and undisciplined or subjective allegorical interpretation of the text, where any conclusion goes on the one hand; and a historical text which lends itself to a deeper meaning or fuller sense on the other. Typology is like the latter. A type is often a historical person which looks past itself to something other and greater, the antitype. It is, in that sense, a historical substance being used by God as an allegory to teach something other and greater than itself. The New Testament authors assumed this manifold sense of Scripture when engaging Old Testament texts such as Psalm 110, 2 Samuel 7:14, and Hosea 11:1—Hebrews 1 making heavy use of the former two, and Matthew 2:15 making use of the latter. The scope of this article will not allow me to delve into a full-orbed defense of things like the historical-grammatical hermeneutic or the sensus plenior (fuller sense) of the text. These things will largely be assumed henceforth.

The assumption which will drive the following work is as follows: Every text of the Old Testament is applicable to the New Testament believer. I take this to be the meaning of Paul’s maxim set forth as such, “For whatever things were written before were written for our learning, that we through the patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope (Rom. 15:4).”

Suffice it to say, I’m not doing anything different than what the apostles did in their interpretive work. Nor am I deviating from the hermeneutic utilized by our Baptist forerunners. I only hope to be consistent with their method.

Recapitulation of Previous Article

So that no one is lost, and so my last article is rightly understood—in it, I took the position that the giants were a people group. The sons of God were men, perhaps from Cain’s seed. The daughters of men were probably descended from Seth’s righteous line. Some understand the sons of God who mated with the human women to be angelic beings. I argued against this on the basis of Genesis 1. Each living thing begets its kind according to the creation narrative. It, therefore, would be non-sensical to suggest angels could produce human offspring, which no doubt occurred, i.e. the men of renown. The sons of God “married” the daughters of men and produced the men of renown who took on the wicked properties of the giants who were then living.

Some other reasons the sons of God and the Nephilim must be human—angels, per Matthew 22 do not marry. Dr. Peter Gentry discards this reason on the basis that only angels “in heaven” are said to not marry. Restriction on marriage, therefore, does not apply to those angels who have left. However, he continues to be faced with the rule set down in Genesis 1. Even if fallen angels could procreate, they would only be able to do so according to their kind.

Some would opine angels, while not able to marry, can nevertheless procreate, much like animals procreate yet never marry. However, exclusively spiritual substances cannot, by definition, procreate. Procreation is germane to bodies, not spirits. To suggest spirits procreate would be to suggest spirits are embodied beings.

Tracing the Giant Theme

Genesis 6:4 is the only place the term Nephilim is used until we get to Numbers 13:33. It is no mystery that the giants and the men of renown—who eventually joined with them in their folly—played a causal role in the judgment of God through the great flood. It is, after all, v. 4 which sets up vv. 5-8, culminating in God’s announcement of judgment, “I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth, both man and beast, creeping thing and birds of the air, for I am sorry that I have made them. (v. 7)” The giants were evil and God judged their wickedness, which apparently had spread to all mankind by Noah’s day.

As mentioned above, we once again encounter the giants in Numbers 13:33, where the same term is used, Nephilim. The scene is one of anticipation and fear. The Lord has just instructed Moses to send out spies to perform reconnaissance on the land of Canaan. “Send men to spy out the land of Canaan, which I am giving to the children of Israel; from each tribe of their fathers you shall send a man, every one a leader among them (Num. 13:2).” In v. 22, the text notes “the descendants of Anak, were there.” In v. 31, after the spies returned, and after Caleb expressed desire to press forward with the conquest, the spies respond, “We are not able to go up against the people, for they are stronger than we.” And then in v. 33, we see the reason for the hesitancy, “There we saw the giants (the descendants of Anak came from the giants); and we were like grasshoppers in our own sight, and so we were in their sight.”

The people of Anak were historically tall men and, at the time, inhabited Philistia, which is the homeland of the Philistines—what is now modern Palestine.[1] The connection between Anak, the giants, and Philistia lends itself to a further connection between the Nephilim and Goliath. His stature is described in 1 Samuel 17:4, “Then a champion came out from the armies of the Philistines named Goliath, from Gath, whose height was six cubits and a span.” Goliath was, no doubt, a Philistine. And though he is never explicitly called Nephilim, the connection is made naturally based on his nation of origin and his recorded stature. First Chronicles 20:6 makes yet another connection, though using the term Rapha for giant, instead of Nephilim, “Again there was war at Gath, where there was a man of great stature who had twenty-four fingers and toes, six fingers on each hand and six toes on each foot; and he also was descended from the giants.”

Goliath, then, is a descendant of the Nephilim, or at least a descendant of the sons of God who procreated with the daughters of men in Genesis 6:4. The David/Goliath narrative is the climactic head of the giant theme in the Old Testament. The giants had been a problematic force for the people of God since the days of the flood. And here, represented by David, the people of God win a decisive battle against the tyrannical Philistines and their oppressive, secret weapon, a giant.

Moving from the Historical to the Fuller Sense

Now that we’ve seen some thematic development of the giants, it’s time to tie the giants in with the broader redemptive narrative. In accordance with the Romans 15:4 maxim, what do these giants mean for us? If the giant theme appears in Scripture for our redemptive benefit, what is that benefit?

The giants were obviously formidable opponents for Israel, and they would have occupied a significant space in the Israelite mind. This is probably part of the reason Moses, in Genesis 6:4, doesn’t pain himself specifying details about the Nephilim. His audience would have been well-acquainted with them. Israel’s familiarity with the giants is not a kindred one. The giants always played the role of a major obstacle, standing between the people and the consummation of covenant promise. This is most clearly seen in Numbers 13:33, with the spies’ fearful and hesitant reaction at the sight of the Nephilim. Every time the Nephilim are mentioned, which is admittedly few and far between, they represent a threat to the purposes of God. In Genesis 6:4, they are tyrannical instigators and were one of the reasons for the flood judgment. In Numbers 13:33, they stood between Israel and the attainment of the land of promise.

The giant as obstacles before God’s people becomes redemptively significant, because the historical development of Israel’s place within the overall biblical narrative lends itself to a typological association between herself and Christ. In Matthew 2:15, the apostle quotes a text about Israel in Hosea 11:1, but applies it directly to Jesus as He and his parents were to return from their flight to Egypt after the death of Herod (Matt. 2:13-15, 19-21). Other themes in Matthew tie Israel and Jesus together into a typological relationship—the mass genocide of infants, the temptation in the wilderness, and even the situational context of the Sermon on the Mount to name a few. These and other situations are situations Israel and Christ share.

Israel, because of sin, was unable to defeat her enemies. She failed to expel them from the land of promise. Thus, the people hoped for someone who would finally subdue their enemies. God had indeed promised to do so in places like Hosea 2:18, “Bow and sword of battle I will shatter from the earth, To make them lie down safely.” Notice in Hosea, the twofold promise of defeated enemies and subsequent peace has a global, not local, scope. Isaiah 2 and Ezekiel 39 contain similar divine promises to subdue Israel’s enemies, not to mention the promise of Messianic dominion given in Psalm 110. And as we know, this global achievement of peace is brought by Christ alone (Matt. 5:5; Is. 6:3).

The giants were key in the development of Israel’s obstacle between her and her rest, and though the giant theme itself becomes less of an explicit factor as the Old Testament progresses, it sets an early tone for Israel’s burden—defeat the giants, inhabit the land; fail to defeat the giants, fail to properly inhabit the land. As we know, because of Israel’s disobedience, while Nephilim are less mentioned later on in the Old Testament, Philistia is a constant adversary of Israel’s enjoyment of peace. The antagonism of Philistia is made plain in the narrative of David and Goliath.

Here, another obvious typological relationship arises. Christ is the other and greater David. In Ezekiel 37, the renewed and restored kingdom of David is prophesied. “My servant David will be king over them, and they will all have one shepherd; and they will walk in My ordinances and keep My statutes and observe them (v. 24).” We know this king isn’t going to be the literal David, because the true king is the Lord Jesus Christ, and this becomes all the more clear in the New Testament (Rev. 19:19). Christ is called the only sovereign in 1 Timothy 6:15. This is further strengthened by the eternality of “David’s” future rule. “They will live on the land that I gave to Jacob My servant, in which your fathers lived; and they will live on it, they, and their sons and their sons’ sons, forever; and David My servant will be their prince forever (Ezek. 37:25).”

Israel is a type of Christ. David is a type of Christ. Christ is the other and greater version of both. But what about the giants? Is it possible to make an appropriate typological connection between them and a more perennial adversary such as sin or death? I think so. Remember, the land promise entailed rest from enemies, “The LORD gave them rest all around, according to all that He had sworn to their fathers (Jos. 21:44).” But the rest from temporal, political foes only looked forward to an eternal rest from the perennial adversaries of sin, death, and Satan. This becomes abundantly clear in Hebrews 4, where true rest is fulfilled in Christ, “For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His (Heb. 4:10).”

There is then a direct typological connection between the penultimate giants, Philistines, etc., and the ultimate, perennial enemies of sin, death, and devil. In the earlier conquest narrative, giants were the preeminent obstacles in attaining a full-fledged enjoyment of the land rest, itself being only typical. So too, sin, death, and the devil must be defeated if God’s people are to enter ultimate and eternal rest. Giants and the Philistines would eventually give way to other adversaries that would essentially share the same typological purpose, to point toward the real enemy of sin and its birthchild, death (Jas. 1:15).

Conclusion

All things considered, there is ample application to be made from the historical account of giants. They were enemies of God’s people and enemies of God Himself. The people of God today have a similar yet more dreadful enemy which, unlike the giants of old, cannot be defeated by the sword. These ultimate and seemingly-invincible giants must be destroyed by God the Father, through the death of God the Son, and the application of that death by the ministry of God the Spirit.

Therefore, giants remain to this day. But they are even stronger than the descendants of Anak. We need someone to go before us and sign their death certificates. And Christ has done just that. Now, having grace sealed to us in the blood of Christ and continually poured out upon us by the Spirit, we can slay these giants (Rom. 8:13). But we do not slay them by the conventional means of warfare, we slay them through the due use of means appointed for the people of God within the context of the local church (Acts 2:42). We fight them and claim victory by Word and Spirit. And we shall not be put to shame. For Christ has inaugurated the death of death in His death, and we now look forward to the consummation of that decisive victory, which will ultimately prevail in the resurrection of the saints.

Resources

[1] Brown, F., Driver, S. R., & Briggs, C. A. (1977). Enhanced Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (p. 814). Oxford: Clarendon Press.

There Are Giants In the Earth

There Are Giants In the Earth

by | Feb 25, 2021 | Biblical Theology

This is a part 1 of 2 in my miniseries on giants.

There were giants on the earth in those days, and also afterward, when the sons of God came in to the daughters of men and they bore children to them. Those were the mighty men who were of old, men of renown. ~ Genesis 6:4

Many of us have probably heard numerous interpretations of this passage over the years. In fact, as part of my undergraduate requirement, the capstone included a relatively lengthy discussion on the Nephilim (giants). We were divided into groups. Some groups thought the Nephilim were angels and others believed they were kings. I’ve even heard aliens suggested. One thing is for sure, there is no lack of opinionated diversity when it comes to Genesis 6:4.

The over-complication of the identity of the giants, however, runs the risk of destroying the actual significance of the text, and the significance of giants. In this article, I want to make an attempt at obviating some distracting interpretations so that we can get to the core message, which I believe is the destructive and tyrannical power of human sin (this will take the form of a second article). This text, then, is ultimately a call, through an historical description of types, to fight the antitypical reality of a remaining sin nature and the effects of sin throughout the world (Ps. 110). This is a call purchased by Christ, who is the great Giant Slayer, the Conqueror of sin, death, and the devil. Giants continue to exist in the earth. Yet, their death certificates have been signed in the blood of Christ, and our ability to fight them has been secured. The inauguration of the giants’ extinction has commenced, and now we look to the consummation of it. More on this in a later piece. In the meantime, let’s explore the immediate sense of Genesis 6:4—

Hermeneutical Assumptions

I want to begin with a basic affirmation of the analogia fidei, or the analogy of faith, which confines our interpretation of any given text to within the context of the whole of Christian doctrine, or the Christian faith. A basic way this plays out is as follows: If the doctrine of the Trinity has been established beyond the shadow of a doubt, according to the overall biblical witness, then my interpretation of, say, John 1:1-3 cannot contradict that doctrine, since it has been established elsewhere on the basis of other texts. Of course, behind this is an assumption that the Bible is inerrant, infallible, and thus without contradiction.

Contextualization

Flowing from this assumption, which is often summarized by the maxim, “Scripture interprets Scripture,” I will now turn to Genesis 1. In Genesis 1, we find the initial, or summary, creational account. Within that account, we discover a general rule which should guide our interpretation of Genesis 6:4, that is, each kind of living organism, from plants, to fish, to mammals, and to humans produce after their own kind.

Genesis 1:11—Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb that yields seed, and the fruit tree that yields fruit according to its kind, whose seed is in itself, on the earth…

Genesis 1:21—So God created great sea creatures and every living thing that moves, with which the waters abounded, according to their kind, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good.

Genesis 1:24—Let the earth bring forth the living creature according to its kind: cattle and creeping thing and beast of the earth, each according to its kind.

Genesis 1:27, 28—So God created man in His own image; in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.  Then God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it; have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves on the earth.”

It is no problem that the words “according to their kind” is not repeated verbatim during the creation of humans. The text clearly defines an ontology of humanity, noting its final cause is dominion through means of procreation.

Whatever the Nephilim are, they cannot be anything inhumane, since clearly, they are either the cause or the result (or both) of human procreation depending on how one reads the text. This point is further strengthened by Jesus’ words when, speaking on the resurrection, He says, “For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels of God in heaven (Matt. 22:30).“

The Bible clearly tells us that creatures reproduce after their own kind, and also that angels do not marry. For this reason, we should not think angels are endowed with any kind of reproductive means since they were not intended to reproduce in the first place. And this appears to eliminate one interpretation of this passage, namely, that the Nephilim are fallen angels. If this were true, the rule in Genesis 1 would not hold, and Jesus’ words in Matthew 22 would be inaccurate.

The Identity of the Giants

Turning now to the text in question. There are four groups mentioned: giants, sons of God, daughters of men, and the men of renown who were the offspring of the sons of God and the daughters of men. Questions abound as to whether or not the giants and the sons of God are one and the same, or whether they are distinct groups—the sons of God being unrighteous persons and the daughters of men being a preserved line from Adam. It seems as if the giants and the sons of God, if not totally identical, are at least overlapping groups of people.

Some have suggested the sons of God descended from Cain, and the daughters of men were descended from some other of Adam’s posterity, Cain’s seed being corrupt with some exceptions (e.g. Enoch, Lamech, etc). Adam and Eve bore another son, named Seth, who’s seed we know became distinguished by its devotion to God (Gen. 4:25-26).

It is possible, even likely, that Cain’s seed is the “sons of God,” the “daughters of men” deriving from Seth. The “sons of God” could be taken in different ways. The title is certainly given a negative connotation in Job 1, 2, and 38. They seem to be those who take a stand against God. The plural elohim is used, which makes provision for the rendering “sons of gods,” which may denote idolatrous persons who exalt themselves against the knowledge of Yahweh, the general trend of the world to be sure (2 Cor. 10:5).

If the sons of God and the giants are two distinct groups, this is no problem because the point of the text seems to liken the unholy offspring, i.e. “men of renown,” to the giants. The giants were tyrannical oppressors and immoral men. The term Nephilim itself refers to one which falls upon something leading to its destruction.[1] John Calvin refers to them as robbers:

To me there seems more truth in the opinion of those who say, that a similitude is taken from a torrent, or an impetuous tempest; for as a storm and torrent, violently falling, lays waste and destroys the fields, so these robbers brought destruction and desolation into the world.[2]

For this reason, Calvin places less emphasis on the size of the giants (though they may have really been large people), and more upon “their robberies, and their lust for dominion.”[3] Rousas Rushdoony, in his commentary on Genesis, says something similar:

Old Testament references such as Numbers 13:33 do indicate that the Nephilim were mighty men in their rebellion against God, and this was their renown. The Hebrew root naphal means to fall upon, to attack. This means that the true focus should not be on their physical size but on their religious and moral hostility to God. Their attack was directed against God above all else.[4]

I tend to believe, as Calvin did, the giants preexisted the men of renown. And, the men of renown being a result from corrupt, unequally yoked sexual unions, were then likened to or even became part of that group referred to as Nephilim. The corrupt giants, who were tyrannical and powerful men, were enlarged by these men of renown, who eventually joined them in their wickedness. Misery loves company.

Conclusion

Understanding our text as we have, there is a perfect and consistent foundation set down for v. 5, “Then the LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” It would certainly be odd if angels, being the main culprit in the wickedness observed in v. 4, were the ones to give way to such an extreme judgment upon only men. However, if the giants and the unholy offspring simply points to multiplies offenses among mankind, the judgment announced in vv. 5-8 flows forth without any issues or questions.

There is also the question of the angels mentioned in Jude and the identity of the sons of God in Job. And while I may address those two related instances in a future article, I believe I have succeeded in addressing the foundation here. Thus, whatever the meaning of Job and Jude, the sons of God and the men of renown in Genesis 6 must be human.

Resources

[1] Brown, F., Driver, S. R., & Briggs, C. A. (1977). Enhanced Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (p. 658). Oxford: Clarendon Press.
[2] John Calvin, Commentary Upon the Book of Genesis, (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1998), 244.
[3] Ibid., 245.
[4] Rushdoony, R. J. (2002). Commentaries on the Pentateuch: Genesis (p. 62). Vallecito, CA: Ross House Books.

Scaling Scripture: Where the Quadriga & the 1689 Meet

Scaling Scripture: Where the Quadriga & the 1689 Meet

by | Feb 23, 2021 | Confessionalism, Hermeneutics

The infallible rule of interpretation of Scripture is the Scripture itself; and therefore when there is a question about the true and full sense of any Scripture (which is not manifold, but one), it must be searched by other places that speak more clearly. ~ 2LBCF 1.9

The middle ages were, in some ways a golden age for the interpretation of Scripture, and in other ways a hermeneutical train wreck. Of course, by the time of the high middle ages (11th to the 13the centuries), the kind of authority eventually ascribed to church tradition had not yet become a canonical article of church dogma. It was first explained as dogma during Vatican II, held in 1962. Yet, the equality of church tradition and Scripture had already begun, to some extent, in the middle ages.

As Henri de Lubac notes, the authority of church tradition would play into the assumed medieval hermeneutic milieu, which has since been called the quadriga. All Scripture, it is said, is literal. But the literal sense gives way to three other senses, i.e. the allegorical (what to believe), tropological (how to live), and anagogical (what to hope for). Because the largely Romanist medieval theologians had a twofold principle of knowledge—Scripture and tradition—the quadriga was not confined to Scripture itself, but became an open system through man-made tradition. Allegory, then, didn’t have to result only from Scripture, but was also informed by the authoritative and subjective interpretation of the Magisterium.

I’m not including the whole story, but this eventually led the Reformers to reject the quadriga, at least in terms. But not necessarily in practice. Much of the post-Reformed Puritan theology reflected an assumption of the quadriga, though it was hardly, if ever, referred to as such. Moreover, the Puritans, such as John Owen, would affirm a single sense which itself would need to be plumbed in order to reach the full extent thereof. This was called the sensus plenior, or the fuller sense. For the Puritans, the single sense could be manifold. And thus the quadriga continued on into orthodox Protestantism, but not without qualification. It no longer consisted of four distinct senses, which might mistakenly be viewed as multiple, if not conflicting, truths. It consisted instead of one sense, the literal, which lent itself to a deeper or fuller meaning, the scope of which includes allegory, tropology, and anagogy. And these subsequent elements of the unfolding literal sense were to be confined to the Scripture itself and not the opinion of a Magisterium, monarch, etc.

So, 1.9 of the Second London Baptist Confession recognizes this fuller sense which derives from the literal, historical, or immediate terms. Puritans are often accused of allegorizing the text by hyper-literalists for this very reason. But the Puritans, in all reality, were the most prolific torch-bearers of the literal meaning of Scripture. Unlike the hyper-literalists of the 20th and 21st centuries, the Puritans understood that while all meaning began in literal or historical terms, it did not end there. There was a sensus plenior, a fuller sense.

John Owen (An Exposition of the Letter to the Hebrews), Benjamin Keach (Tropologia), and John Gill (Gill’s Expositor, vol. 9, on Hebrews 8) are all examples of theologians who understood the sensus plenior and employed it regularly in their thought.

I will close by giving one biblical example where a New Testament author engages this method of deriving the fuller sense from the literal or historical text. Speaking of Christ Jesus, Hebrews 1:5b says—

For to which of the angels did He ever say… “I will be to Him a Father, And He shall be to Me a Son”?

This is a quotation from 2 Samuel 7:14 in proof of Christ’s superiority. But in that place, the author writes immediately of the coming king Solomon, and there is no instance in the immediate context where the coming Messiah is mentioned. In 2 Samuel 7:14b it even mentions a chastisement for future sin, which means this passage must be immediately referring to someone other than Christ. The text, immediately, then, refers to Solomon, the son of David, who would build the temple (v. 13). Yet, as the author of Hebrews shows us, there is the sensus plenior, where Christ is the deeper meaning of the historical/literal event immediately in view in 2 Samuel 7:14.

In other words, the literal event points to a deeper significance. To put it in quadratic terms: the literal sense of 2 Samuel 7:14 is Solomon; plumbing that single sense, we see the allegory is Christ Himself; the tropology is to live unto Christ as our Lord and King; and the anagogy is the hope of the kingship or the rule of Christ.

The Two Kingdoms Take Center Stage

The Two Kingdoms Take Center Stage

by | Feb 15, 2021 | Uncategorized

American Christians have been suffering an identity crisis for a long time.

Last year, however, that same identity crisis reached its crescendo during the forced COVID-19 lockdowns and emergency “orders.” These orders, you’ll remember, had massive implications upon practical Christian life. The most important ingredient in Christian religion, public worship, found itself in the crosshairs of government-enforced limitations on “large” gatherings.

Atop all this comes riots and various forms of civil unrest. Anything from burning down buildings to commandeering whole city blocks have been normalized over the last several months. And now, a rocky, uncertain presidential transition looms.

The flow of information hasn’t helped either. Error moves as quickly as truth. No one seems to really know what is going to happen in the next few days, weeks, months. All this has led many Christians to ask the question, “What do we do?” And that question breaks into several others: “Do we obey our government?” “What should my church be doing? How should it be responding to the times?” and many others. The need for these questions to be answered will only grow in the coming days. And how we understand the church’s relationship to the rest of the world will only become all the more relevant.

Current events usually draw people’s attention to eschatology. Rightly so. However, there is something that stands behind eschatology as more basic or fundamental. Premillennialism, postmillennialism, and amillennialism are all three formed or concluded on the basic identities of the kingdom of God and the kingdom of man. One might argue eschatology defines both of these things, but that would put the final cause in front of the formal and material causes, which would lead to utilitarianism or a sheer pragmatism. The natures of these kingdoms must be defined prior to finalizing an eschatology.

So, while current events and the current circumstance of Christ’s church may provoke serious eschatological thought, do not forget that there are certain, more fundamental elements to be considered first in our biblical and systematic theologies.

What are the Two Kingdoms?

When theologians speak of the two kingdoms, they are referring to the kingdom of God and the kingdom of man, each of which must now be defined.

An easy, perhaps somewhat abstract way, to define the kingdom of God is to understand it as all that which comes to men through the New Covenant. Simply put, the kingdom of God comes through the covenant of grace. We could write a whole book on everything that comes from the New Covenant. But, at the risk of oversimplification, for our purposes here, we will understand the kingdom of God as that which comes to God’s people through the special, saving grace of God available only in the New Covenant, which has been established in the blood of Christ.

The kingdom(s) of men involve those powers given to men at creation, and also according to the Noahic covenant, post-fall. Herman Bavinck helpfully notes:

There are all kinds of power and authority on earth: in the family, society, the state, art, science, and so forth. But the power of the church is essentially distinct and completely independent from all of these. For all this power comes from God as the creator of heaven and earth (Rom. 13:1), but this ecclesiastical power comes directly from God as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 12:28; Eph. 4:11; Acts 20:28).

The kingdom(s) of men come through natural graces (i.e. common grace), and the kingdom of God comes through special or supernatural graces (i.e. special grace). To put it in covenantal language: The kingdom(s) of men come through the Noahic covenant, a recapitulation of the creation mandate adapted to man’s sinful nature made in Genesis 8-9; and the kingdom of God comes through the covenant of grace (or New Covenant).

Distinct, but Not Separate

When speaking of the two kingdoms, it is easy to separate the two entirely. Such a separation can give way to an escapist or pacifist approach to civil society. While civil society (man’s kingdom) is not the church, much less the kingdom of heaven, it nevertheless ought to occupy a place on the church’s list of priorities.

While the biblical data necessitates, I believe, a two kingdom approach, it also sets forth a healthy relationship between those two kingdoms, even on this side of glory. In other words, the two kingdoms are distinct, but not separate.

Jesus, in Matthew 5:14, says, “You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden.” And in Revelation 21:24, the kings of the earth bring their glory into this capitol city of heaven, “And the nations of those who are saved shall walk in its light, and the kings of the earth bring their glory and honor into it.”

The church, therefore, which is called a city on a hill is not abstracted nor isolated from the rest of the world. In fact, being the light of the world denotes the idea of something visible, known, a revealer of truth which influences the world around it. In this way, it acts as salt, a seasoning if you will, upon the earth (Matt. 5:13).

Recently, I’ve observed what I believe to be a clear definition of the nature of this relationship between the kingdom of God on the one hand, and the kingdom of man on the other in the first amendment of the United States Constitution. It reads:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

Notice how the state cannot control the church through coercion nor legislation, but also how provision is made for the church to influence the state through freedom of speech, freedom of the press, and through peaceful assemblies. Unfortunately, today, many who tend toward the left want to take the power of persuasion away from the church. Church and state are completely separate, it is thought. Many Christians, in their isolationist view of the church, also, in practice, believe in a complete separation between the two kingdoms.

The first amendment, however, strikes the right biblical note, I believe. State powers cannot determine religion, religion cannot legislate state powers. But religion most certainly has the power to influence the state through lawful means. This dynamic is lucidly described at the end of the book of Acts:

Then Paul dwelt two whole years in his own rented house, and received all who came to him, preaching the kingdom of God and teaching the things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ with all confidence, no one forbidding him (Acts 28:30-31).

Paul utilized his station as a Roman citizen, his rights, privileges, etc., to proclaim the kingdom of God to people living in the kingdom of man. And in this way, Paul powerfully influenced the kingdom of man with the kingdom of God.

Concluding Thoughts

Christians need to recapture this relationship between the two kingdoms before the church in America can effectively address the prevailing issues of our day. Christians must reimagine their roles in society. They are citizens of heaven first, but they must also understand their responsibility as citizens of this world to this world, that is, to be its light.

Questions of how this is done are also answered in Scripture. In short, Christians must play the #LongGame. They must love their spouses; train up their children in godliness; invest in their churches; and influence their immediate communities with the gospel and godly principles through lawful means. The enemy most hates faithfulness in the little things.

The Christian’s Dual Citizenship

The Christian’s Dual Citizenship

by | Feb 15, 2021 | Uncategorized

It cannot be denied that Scripture ascribes some duties to the governments of this world and some duties to the church. For example, governing authorities of this world are said to bear the sword. Paul, in Romans 13:1-4, writes:

Let every soul be subject to the governing authorities. For there is no authority except from God, and the authorities that exist are appointed by God. Therefore whoever resists the authority resists the ordinance of God, and those who resist will bring judgment on themselves. For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to evil. Do you want to be unafraid of the authority? Do what is good, and you will have praise from the same. For he is God’s minister to you for good. But if you do evil, be afraid; for he does not bear the sword in vain; for he is God’s minister, an avenger to execute wrath on him who practices evil.

This sword, while given to the state, is never said to be given to the church. Christ, instead, gives the church the keys to the kingdom of heaven. To Peter, Jesus says, “And I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven (Matt. 16:19).” So, the government has been given the sword, and the church has been given the keys to heaven.

Since the Scripture never gives either of these to the other, neither the keys to the government nor the sword to church, these powers ought to always be seen as distinct. Writing of the Reformed position in the post-Reformation era, Herman Bavinck writes:

Just as God had appointed the government as sovereign in the state, so he anointed Christ as king of his church. State and church, therefore, were essentially distinct from each other—in origin, nature, and government. To transfer the church’s power to the state was a violation of the kingship of Christ.

Speaking to the power of local churches, then Second London Baptist Confession reads:

To each of these churches thus gathered, according to His mind declared in His Word, He hath given all that power and authority, which is in any way needful for their carrying on that order in worship and discipline, which He hath instituted for them to observe; with commands and rules for the due and right exerting, and executing of that power.

Notice how both Bavinck and the Confession are careful to observe and maintain the clear distinction in the Scriptures between the powers of man’s kingdom and the powers of God’s kingdom. To the city of God is given the keys to heaven; to the city of man, the sword of civil justice.

This is a simplified summary of what is sometimes referred to as two kingdom theology. The two kingdoms refer to the kingdom of God on the one hand, and the kingdom of man on the other. This distinction serves to highlight the circumstance of the Christian as he lives in this world. He is a citizen of heaven and he looks toward a heavenly country. Nevertheless, he has been given an earthly citizenship in an earthly country. The Christian has dual citizenship. He is at once a citizen of the kingdom of heaven and a citizen of the kingdom of man—and he has been given responsibilities accordingly.

Resources:

1. Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, vol. 4, (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 2008), 411.

2. 2LBCF, 26.7.

3. Sermon, ‘The Christian’s Dual Citizenship’