Will the Christian Ever Stop Working?

Will the Christian Ever Stop Working?

by | Dec 2, 2022 | Biblical Theology, Eschatology

What is our blessed hope? To what do we look as we anticipate this life giving way to the next? Paul asks a similar question in 1 Thessalonians 2:19, “For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing?” His answer is stunningly brief, “Is it not even you in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at His coming?” Paul shifts our attention to the presence of God at the great coming of God, in which we ought to rejoice. He does not labor to characterize the world to come in similar terms to what we now experience. Instead, he understands the world to come to consist in the greatest good, the summum bonum, or the beatific presence of God.

Because of modern assumptions, many are not satisfied that the only object of our attention in glory will be God Himself. We’ve been taught to make this present world a template for understanding the next. Instead, we ought to understand the world to come as that upon which this present is based. The present world is but a type of the one to come. The world to come, not the world that is, is the pattern. Moses didn’t see the tabernacle on Mt. Sinai. He saw the ultimate pattern (τύπος) upon which it was based and the end to which it aimed. The tabernacle itself is but a shadow pointing to the end, a construct vaguely approximating what Moses saw on the mountain. (Heb. 8:5)

Understanding the Initial Goal of Man’s Work

Unwittingly, Christians often make the assumption, implicitly or explicitly, that the work of redemption was intended to restore man to a Garden of Eden situation, and that nearly everything about the pre-lapse life will characterize life in glory. Another assumption is that a man’s material body is only good for exercising leadership and work—two situational principles related to the cares of this present order. There simply can be no other end for man, it is thought, but to live like we live now, albeit with some accidental changes between our present condition and the state of glory, e.g. we will rule and work without sin.

Both of these assumptions, however, seem to fall short of a robust biblical understanding of individual eschatology. But how did we arrive here? Why have most of us come to assume that glory will not consist in rest, but in a continuance of labor similar to what we currently experience? As Dr. Richard Barcellos might say, We got the garden wrong. So, how might getting the Garden right inform our understanding of work in relation to man’s blessed end? 

Most importantly, it is the Garden-narrative that first introduces the purpose of man’s work. Genesis 2:15 says, “Then the LORD God took the man and put him in the garden to tend and keep it.” Man’s work (tending) is his maintenance and expansion of the garden to the four-corners of the earth. Barcellos writes, “[Adam] started his task in the garden of Eden, which, as we have seen, was the earth’s first localized temple. Adam was commissioned to expand that Edenic temple to the four corners of the earth.”[1]

Sometimes the toil of our present work is associated with the effects of sin following the fall. However, even before the fall there was a certain toil associated with man’s labor as the term for “tend” (עָבַד) indicates.[2] This is not a sinful toil, nor a toil caused by sin. This toil is not associated with a curse. But it is associated with the expectation of a goal to be met through work—the anticipation of something other and greater than a life characterized by labor. In other words, there is something more desirable than work to which work tends. And in this case, Adam’s work served Adam’s eschatology. So, to suggest man’s present work is a necessary feature of man as man is inaccurate. Work was instituted for a definite end. It has a final cause or goal. It presupposes completion, and it begs the prospect of rest. For the first Adam, the goal of his work was the attainment of a secure situation with God—a security no longer available through our work, but only through the work of the second Adam.

Some dispute the notion that the first Adam had an eschatology at all. However, the two trees in the middle of the garden, the charge to tend and keep the garden, and the raw materials covering the earth (presumably for the first Adam’s use) beg to differ. The tree of life is associated with man’s bliss and security in a state of incorruption, “He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes I will give to eat from the tree of life, which is in the midst of the Paradise of God.” (Rev. 2:7) And, “In the middle of its street, and on either side of the river, was the tree of life, which bore twelve fruits, each tree yielding its fruit every month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.” (Rev. 22:2) And once more, “Blessed are those who do His commandments, that they may have the right to the tree of life, and may enter through the gates into the city.” (Rev. 22:14)

Given the purpose of the tree of life, we may conclude that the first Adam’s eating of the tree of life would have resulted in a similar situation to that of the saints seen in Revelation. Implied in Genesis 1-2 is Adam’s task to tend (work) and guard (keep) the Garden. Given the resources available beyond the Garden and his charge to “fill the earth,” Adam was tasked with not only caring for but also expanding the Garden. (Gen. 1:28; 2:10-14) 

Adam’s task to “keep” the garden was one of guardianship, presumably from the serpent—a task he failed to complete. All indicators point toward the tree of the knowledge of good and evil as a judgment tree at which Adam should have judged and executed Satan, i.e. it does not appear on the new earth since judgment is completed at the consummation. It was the tree upon which Satan should have been crucified. Instead, we formed allegiance with Satan and now deserve to be crucified on that same tree. However, Christ is crucified or cursed on our behalf, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree…” (Gal. 3:13)

Work, as a creational principle, was intended for the attainment of an eschatological end. And whereas Genesis 3 introduces man’s fall and the curse, the initial purpose of man’s work necessarily changes. No longer can it attain an eschatological end. The covenant of works has been broken. Work remains, but it is ineffectual to reach its initial purpose described by the state of innocence. For Christians, this work is no longer eschatological in the sense of obtaining some end. But it is both dutiful and helpful—it is commanded and it is instrumental in our sanctification. (Rom. 8:13) It characterizes the pilgrim’s way.

The Present Goal of Man’s Work & Whether That Goal Is Ever Reached

Work, for it to be meaningful, must continue to have a purpose. This purpose must be both proximate and remote. There are numerous goals we have in our work. These numerous goals are proximate, because each is immediately achieved by the completion of a task. I might boil an egg so as to enjoy eating it afterwards. But what is the remote purpose of work as a concept? What is the ultimate purpose of work per se? Most basically, our work no longer procures our eschatology. Christ alone is efficient and sufficient for this. Instead, our present work is an expression of the grace of God in our lives. For the Christian, work is an outworking of his gratis toward God for God’s unilateral accomplishment and application of redemption. For the Christian, this is true for both secular and sacred work (worship). Secular work consists in natural tasks common to all men. Sacred work consists in positively commanded tasks unique to the Christian faith. Both are performed to the glory of God as an outworking of the grace of God, not as an effort on man’s part to attain glory.

To qualify, we might say our grace-given work leads to glory only in a consequential sense. That is, upon the hypothesis of God’s grace, the necessary consequence is man’s work which characterizes man’s path to glory. A man who does not work does not reach glory. But that is not because he failed to work. It’s because he evidently does not possess the grace of God necessary for glory which inevitably produces work in the believer to one extent or another. Thus, work continues to be eschatologically significant but not eschatologically efficient. Hence, Paul writes, “Where is boasting then? It is excluded. By what law? Of works? No, but by the law of faith.” (Rom. 3:27) Can we boast in our works in the end? Of course not. Why? Because the justification that explains our arrival at glory at long last isn’t conditioned at all upon our works, “for by the works of the law no flesh shall be justified.” (Gal. 2:16)

Work, then, is now an expression of Christ in us. But what stage of Christ’s incarnate life is currently shown through us? It would obviously have to be the stage where He dwelt amongst us and demonstrated for us how to live unto the Father of lights. Peter seems to place the example of Christ concomitantly with His humiliation when he writes, “For to this you were called, because Christ also suffered for us, leaving us an example, that you should follow His steps…” (1 Pet. 2:21) But if Christ’s incarnate work is our template, then it should follow that Christ’s incarnate rest, which He received upon the completion of His work, will also be ours. In other words, if Christ is our pattern, His earthly life is to be our earthly life, and His heavenly rest is to be our heavenly rest. So, the author of Hebrews writes, “Let us therefore be diligent to enter that rest, lest anyone fall according to the same example of disobedience.” (Heb. 4:11)

The present goal of our work, then, is to imitate Christ by the grace of God in us. And this means we shall also imitate the end of Christ’s work which is His rest.

The End of Work?

We’ve all heard the popular phrase “mission accomplished.” 

A mission is a work with a definite goal. When that goal is reached, the mission concludes. If we view all present Christian work in this way, it becomes clear to us that work should have a definite goal, and therefore a point at which it concludes. This goal is rest. As seen in Hebrews 4:11, diligence (work) ends in rest (glory). Rest is the opposite of work, as is demonstrated throughout the Scripture repletely. 

First, in Genesis 2:2, God rests from all His works. There, rest is seen as the opposite of work. In some sense, God continued to work because that first rest was but typical of the finished work of the new creation, which ended in the Son’s incarnation and sufferings, and His entering into glory through resurrection and ascension. (Jn. 5:17)

Second, in Matthew 11:28, our Lord says, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Again, rest is here the opposite of labor. In this text, labor should be understood as work per se. And though it is affected by sin, the first mention of labor is not particularly negative, but refers to man’s creational task. The second mention, “heavy laden” refers to the effects of sin upon us—both our own sin and the sins of others, along with our misery.

Third, in Matthew 26:45, Jesus rebukes His disciples for “resting” at an improper time. Their time of rest had not yet come, the Son of Man was being betrayed. He says, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Behold, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is being betrayed into the hands of sinners.” Again, diligence, which the disciples ought to have had, is seen as opposite to rest. The term for “rest” (ἀναπαύω) used in this text is the same as that which is used in Matthew 11:28, where our Lord speaks of rest eschatologically and positively.

Fourth, if by “rest” was only meant relief from the effects of sin such that work would go on infinitely into future glory, then the term for “relief” (ἄνεσις) would probably be employed instead of ἀναπαύω, as in 2 Thessalonians 1:7, where “rest” is put for “relief” from affliction in the English—“and to give you who are troubled rest with us when the Lord Jesus is revealed from heaven with His mighty angels…”

Fifth, in Revelation 14:13, we read, “Then I heard a voice from heaven saying to me, ‘Write: “Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on.”’ ‘Yes,’ says the Spirit, ‘that they may rest from their labors, and their works follow them.’” Here, the term for “rest” is that proper term for “rest,” or the peace and solace we receive when our works are finished (ἀναπαύω). And it should be noticed that these works and labors are good works and labors, the nature of which began in the garden. But they are concluded when we “die in the Lord.”

Some have ventured to suggest that creational work is a necessary property of man’s nature. Work is a necessity of man’s nature. Since he was created with it he must do it, or so it is sometimes assumed. As the sun must shine to be the sun, so too must the man work to be a man. However, seeing as how work is always an operation explained by man’s will, it cannot be a necessity of nature. A man may still be a man, though he does not work—or though he rests. Work is an accident of man’s nature instituted in the beginning for a positive purpose. It does not make man man. It is a potency in man. But a potency need not be necessarily actualized.

Furthermore, some would like to suggest that man’s work does not have a definite end, but that work proceeds ad infinitum cycling through countless different goals indefinitely. This is absurd. As Thomas Aquinas says, “if there were no last end, nothing would be desired, nor would any action have its term, nor would the intention of the agent be at rest; while if there is no first thing among those that are ordained to the end, none would begin to work at anything, and counsel would have no term, but would continue indefinitely.” (ST.I-II.Q1.A4.Obj2)

In other words, a linear progress of work meeting goals ad infinitum would not allow any one goal to be reached. Consider an infinite succession of moments. How could we ever reach this moment if an infinite number of moments preceded it? Furthermore, there would be no such thing as a superior goal, or a goal that is more desirable than the others.

Conclusion

Work and rest is a staple of the biblical-redemptive narrative. Work must be understood as that which leads to rest, and rest must be understood as the final end of work to which we look. If this was not the case, Christ’s work is never complete, our work is never complete, and true rest is never reached. Furthermore, if work is a necessity of man’s nature from man’s creational constitution, then it loses all its eschatological significance. The parallelism between the two Adams falls into question. Does the second Adam bring to an end what the first Adam did not and then some? If work doesn’t lead to rest, then how are we to understand the finished work of Christ as it typologically parallels the work that the first Adam was initially charged to complete but yet fell short of that completion?

Instead, I suggest we understand glory to consist in beatitude, where we behold God without sin. This beatitude is sufficient for us. God is enough for us. And thus, we rest. There is no more working for an end. For the end has been reached. Paul understands the world to come to consist in the greatest good, the summum bonum, or the beatific presence of God. In this consists our rest, our happiness, and the consummation of our ultimate end, “to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” (Cf. Westminster Shorter Catechism, Q. 1)

Resources

[1] Richard Barcellos, Getting the Garden Right, (Cape Coral: Founders Press, 2017), 155.

[2] Francis Brown, Samuel Rolles Driver, and Charles Augustus Briggs, Enhanced Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977), 712.

The Sufficiency of Scripture, the Insufficiency of Man

The Sufficiency of Scripture, the Insufficiency of Man

by | Nov 1, 2022 | Confessionalism, Ecclesiology, Hermeneutics, Practical Theology

Scripture, tradition, and the relationship between the two—it’s a conversation that needs to be had.

But the present manifestation of this conversation includes two sides talking past one another in a big way. One reason for this is the emerging divergence between two very different epistemologies. Presuppositionalism, broadly speaking—with its idealist DNA—makes Scripture the epistemological starting point of the Christian individual. Man’s idea of Scripture and Scripture itself are nearly the same. And this results in very little attention paid to man’s insufficiency once Scripture is presupposed as sufficient. It is generally assumed that the individual Christian has sole right in determining the proper interpretation of any given verse, chapter, or book of the Bible. Hence, the disdain of some for the tradition.

The classical Reformed position, on the other hand, understands there to be a distinction between Scripture as a source for our theology and our theology as it exists in the fallible mind. In other words, the fount of man’s theology is the text of Scripture, the principium cognoscendi, and man’s theology derives from that principle in an imperfect manner. (1 Cor. 13:12) This means Scripture is presupposed, but it is presupposed as a principle that leads to conclusions drawn by the fallible intellect. Naturally, therefore, we can admit these theological conclusions drawn from biblical exegesis to be fallible as well, while the source itself, Scripture, is infallible. Subsequently, a team effort in biblical interpretation becomes a needful service.

Scripture & the Tradition

Given the above explication, we should be readily able to see why the presuppositional milieu seems so allergic to the ministerial authority of tradition. Man presupposes the Scriptures in such a way that there’s functionally no difference between Scripture and man’s knowledge of Scripture. This cashes out in an infallible presupposition, or an infallible idea in man. In this one area, the knowledge of man is raised to an apostolic quality of infallibility. If Scripture is infallible, and there is no distinction between Scripture itself and man’s idea of it, man’s idea is infallible. And thus, it is no longer subject to peer scrutiny, say, from the tradition. It’s a simple matter of applying the law of identity and following the implications.

On the other hand, if classicalism is true, and Scripture acts as a perfect reservoir for our  imperfect theological knowledge, it follows that we might maintain Scripture’s unique attribute of infallibility while at the same time admitting man’s fallibility. And this leads us to the good and necessary use of secondary authorities. If man is fallible, he needs help to understand the infallible Scriptures aright. Biblical interpretation is not purely an individual exercise. It requires the Holy Spirit, as He works in the individual, but also as He has worked in believers past and present. Francis Turretin writes:

When we dispute at any time from the fathers against our adversaries, we use them only as witnesses, to approve by their vote the truth believed by us and to declare the belief of the church in their time. We do not use them as judges whose opinion is to be acquiesced in absolutely and without examination and as the standard of truth in doctrines of faith or in the interpretation of the Scriptures.[1]

In other words, while the fathers are not determinative of biblical meaning, as Rome conceived of them, they are witnesses unto the truth. They are the Democracy of the Dead. The peer review of theological discourse.

But not even this minimalized view of tradition may be granted if indeed our presupposition of the Scriptures is one and the same with the Scriptures themselves. If this is the case, to criticize the presupposer is to criticize what is presupposed. If Scripture and our idea of Scripture are identical, then subjecting ourselves to the voice of history is as bad as subjecting Scripture itself to the voice of men! In this scheme, to make man accountable to other men is to make Scripture accountable to man.

The Protestant View of Tradition

During the Reformation, two different views of tradition were forcefully advanced. There was “tradition 1” (T1), which taught the magisterial authority of Scripture, the meaning of which is witnessed by ministerial authorities, like creeds, confessions, the early church fathers, and biblical commentators. But “tradition 2” (T2) taught that there were two magisterial authorities, Scripture and tradition—the latter being able to create doctrines not found in the former. In the modern discourse, a “tradition 3” (T3) seems to emerge which rejects the place of tradition in theology entirely. Charitably, we might credit the (T3) position with maintaining a use for tradition, but what that use is is not abundantly clear. On (T3), tradition may be interesting, but it isn’t authoritative in any measure, and it rarely maps to the church’s contemporary situation.

For example, in a recent journal article, James White writes:

Just as in the days of the Reformation, citations and counter-citations of earlier church writings appear in the battles of our own day, whether in reference to the positions of Rome, Eastern Orthodoxy, or any other system that claims to honor both Scripture and other external sources of authority (whether those sources are necessary for the interpretation of Scripture or whether they exist as co-equal or even superior authorities alongside of Scripture). But it is here that we must insist upon this maxim: Let the early church fathers be the early church fathers. That is, we must allow them to speak in their own context, to their own battles, in their own language. We cannot demand that they answer our questions and engage in our conflicts, nor can we assume that the battles back then were identical in form and substance to ours today. It is far, far too easy to abuse historical sources in the service of a cause or a movement. Rome has done this, and has done so authoritatively, by claiming her dogmas have been the “constant faith of the church” down through the ages. But Protestants, free of the dogmatic constraints of Rome’s infallible pronouncements, can still emphasize a particular lens through which the statements of earlier generations and previous centuries are filtered, giving a distorted view of earlier theologians’ actual beliefs. Ironically, such modern lenses are often constructed with carefully selected citations of the fathers by contemporary historians who insist that they are, in fact, simply walking in the tradition that has come down to them.[2]

Apparently, there is a severance between our time and their time. The issues they dealt with were their issues, and the issues we deal with are ours. The implication is startling. Their doctrinal conclusions were formed from issues unique to their time. And this leaves the reader scratching his head, asking, “Are their doctrinal conclusions to be left behind, as unique to their own day, as were their theological disputes?” Of course, Ecclesiastes 1:9 tells us there is nothing new under the sun. So, one has to wonder what White intends to achieve by seemingly isolating the fathers and their problems to their historical context.

Furthermore, White’s engagement of his interlocutors simply fails to remark upon crucial aspects of (T1) and the Reformational doctrine of Sola Scriptura as the norma normans over subordinate authorities, norma normata. The “contemporary historians,” though not named in the above quote, presumably includes the historians and theologians White has been interacting with over the last year—a year which no doubt contextualizes the entire journal issue in which White’s article appears. And those particular historians and theologians, as far as I can tell, do not accept White’s presupposition that historical figures are adopted as idealistic “lenses” through which Scripture must be filtered. It has been unequivocally stated that Scripture is the source and principle of true theological knowledge, and that this source of knowledge is a document read by the Holy Spirit-filled individual with Holy Spirit-filled voices from the past. To use Turretin’s language, employment of the creeds, confessions, and historical commentary is the employment of “witnesses”—other minds which demonstrate that we ourselves are not going it alone.

The Insufficiency of Man

This brings me to what should be an elephant in the room: the insufficiency of man. Fundamental to the task of theology is the theologian’s humble acknowledgment of his own inadequacy. He has a keen awareness of Romans 3:23, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” noting especially the present tense of his fallenness in that text. He confesses that his heart is accurately diagnosed by Jeremiah when he writes, “The heart is deceitful above all things, And desperately wicked; Who can know it?” (Jer. 17:9)

Because of man’s inadequacy, the Holy Spirit turns the Christian to his fellow man, “Without counsel, plans go awry, But in the multitude of counselors they are established.” (Prov. 15:22) Through consort with his brothers, he gains a wider periphery. A single man can see, but many men can see more. He also gains accountability, and is less likely to chart his own, novel path. Heretics, though claiming love for the Scriptures, gain nothing but their own innovative opinions leading to their spiritual shipwreck. A helmsman needs a navigator to chart the sea.

Conclusion

Once we acknowledge the difference between the primacy and adequacy of the Scriptures versus our own inadequacy, we will clearly begin to see the need for a “multitude of counselors” when it comes to biblical interpretation and theological formulation. So long as Scripture and our commitment to it are seen as one and the same (some corners of presuppositionalism), man’s insufficiency figures less into the exegetical picture. So long as Scripture and man’s idea of it are the same, Scripture’s adequacy and man’s adequacy are one and the same. The result is an unfalsifiable, individual Bible interpreter that sets himself above the collective voice of the historical church. A self-made pope.

For these reasons, it would be best to understand Scripture as sufficient, man as inadequate, Scripture as chiefly authoritative, and tradition as a ministerial aid to man’s intellectual and ethical handicaps.

Resources:

[1] Francis Turretin, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, vol. I, (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 1992), 163.

[2] James White, “What Is Sola Scriptura,” Pro Pastor,Vol. 1, No. 1, FALL 2022, A Journal of Grace Bible Theological Seminary, 3-4.

The Divine Dominion

The Divine Dominion

by | Oct 28, 2022 | Biblical Theology, Politics

Power, as a divine attribute, leads us to consider the administration of it in God’s sovereign dominion. There are basically three ways in which God exercises or has exercised sovereign dominion over the created economy. We may as well call these “the three modes of His kingdom” or modes of His sovereign rule. First, through nature, God rules and reigns over the kingdom of creation, or what some have called “the common kingdom.” Second, through the typological-redemptive kingdom of Israel as revealed in the Old Testament. Third, through the kingdom of His grace which especially terminates upon His church, that is, God rules His church in a distinct way from that of Old Testament Israel and also the common kingdom.

Examining the Three Modes of Kingdom Rule

First, there is the kingdom of creation is God’s administration of His sovereign might through not only creation but also the providential ruling of all creation. In Isaiah 66:1, the LORD says, “Heaven is My throne, And earth is My footstool.” In psalm 103:19, we read, “The LORD has established His throne in heaven, And His kingdom rules over all.” The kingdom of creation is God’s universal rule over the entirety of the natural world. The Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit have an unlimited and unqualified rule over all the universe. It’s within this kingdom where we find the laws of nature, every society and culture of man, every civil institution, and every king and prince whom God is pleased to either establish or destroy.

This kingdom of creation is administered through covenants—the creational covenant between God and Adam, and following its violation, the second creational covenant which God made with Noah. The covenant of creation made in the garden, sometimes called a covenant of life or covenant of works, is mentioned in Hosea 6:7, where we read, “But like Adam they transgressed the covenant; There they dealt treacherously with Me.” Rashi, the Jewish Rabbi and Old Testament commentator of the middle ages agrees that this term, commonly translated “man” in English, ought to be translated to the proper name, “Adam.” Following the violation of this covenant, and proceeding the flood, God was pleased to make yet another covenant, this time with Noah, where He would regulate the world by civil justice on account of sin.

In addition to this kingdom of creation, which is nothing less than the administration of God’s sovereign might over all things, the Lord has been pleased to establish kingdoms within this kingdom. Not only are all the kings of the earth established under the creational kingdom, but on account of God’s special purpose, He establishes particular kingdoms through which He accomplishes His redemptive purpose in a very explicit way. And this brings us to the second way in which God has exercised His sovereign rule.

Second, there is the typological-redemptive kingdom of Israel, which came through the Abrahamic, Mosaic, and Davidic covenants. Israel is God’s Old Testament nation, located right in the midst of the pagan world. And the purpose of His rule in and through that kingdom was chiefly the preservation of the Seed of the woman, the Lord Jesus Christ. Genesis 49:10 says, “The scepter shall not depart from Judah, Nor a lawgiver from between his feet, Until Shiloh comes; And to Him shall be the obedience of the people.”

Third, God rules through His special grace the “kingdom of the Son of His love,” established in the blood of Christ. Colossians 1:13 states, “He has delivered us from the power of darkness and conveyed us into the kingdom of the Son of His love…” And this is the kingdom wherein the Beatitudes we are promised as an inheritance, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 5:3) And in Luke 6:20, “Blessed are you poor, For yours is the kingdom of God.” This is the kingdom mentioned in Matthew 12:28, when Jesus says, “But if I cast out demons by the Spirit of God, surely the kingdom of God has come upon you.” Speaking to the religious elite, who rejected the “chief cornerstone,” Jesus says, “Therefore I say to you, the kingdom of God will be taken from you and given to a nation bearing the fruits of it.” (Matt. 21:43)

Conclusion

The purpose of this survey is to give an example of how our Lord administers His sovereign dominion in a multifaceted way: through creation, through Israel, and through the church. These are three domains, or three kingdoms. Interestingly enough, this doctrine of God’s sovereignty actually informs our political theology as Baptists. Whereas the kingdom of Israel is no more, there being only the kingdom of creation and the kingdom of the Son manifest in the church, we have two domains wherein God rules—two kingdoms.

When it comes to the kingdom of creation, God rules through prescripts (natural law) and providence. When it comes to Israel, God ruled through prescripts (natural + positive laws) and special providence. When it comes to the kingdom of grace, God rules through the incarnate Son, the Son’s law of love, and special, gracious providence, “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ…” (Phil. 1:6)

Trials & Their Outcome

Trials & Their Outcome

by | Oct 27, 2022 | Biblical Theology, Practical Theology

In James 1:2-3, James begins his letter with a near-paradoxical consolation. Trials are nasty. And we are all bound to experience them to one extent or another. But here, James gives us a sound reason for why Christians should remain joyful in the midst of affliction. Let’s look at our text under four headings: (1) the command to joyfulness; (2) the occasion; (3) the ground of joy; and (4) the outcome of the testing of faith.

The Command To Joyfulness

James begins by addressing his words to his “brethren…” These are not merely brethren according to the flesh (they do seem to be Jewish converts along with James), but they are brethren according to the Christian faith, as v. 3 makes plain. And he commands his brethren to, “count it all joy…” Or, “consider it joy…” This is a command and an encouragement to count those things as joy which the world would count as occasions for despair and cynicism. Joy here is not to be taken as a fleeting emotion or passion, but a perennial disposition of the Christian person grounded in the knowledge of faith. This is a gladness to be had by the Christian.

The Occasion

As mentioned, the occasion is that which the world would deem undesirable. The world teaches us to escape our issues and problems. The Christian faith teaches us to trust God and embrace what God sends our way with gladness. And in this case, James has trials in view. These trials are not specified. They could be anything from persecution to false teaching; from financial hardship to famine, etc. In our context, we might think of political upheaval, job losses, general uncertainty, economic unsurety, cultural perversity, etc. James says that upon the occasion of falling into any one of these trials, we should “count it all joy.” Of course, this doesn’t mean that we ought to be glad for wickedness itself, but for what God is doing for us in spite of it and even through it.

And this brings us to the ground of our joy in trials. What does the Christian have that the world doesn’t have which allows the Christian to count these trials as instances of joy rather than despair?

The Ground of Joy

James began his letter with what he will assume throughout: the possession of the good news of Jesus Christ and our slavehood to Him (Jas. 1:1)—in both trial and tribulation. But in v. 3, he adds a further reason why the Christian ought to have gladness in tribulation, “knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.” The reason for gladness, in this case, is essentially Romans 8:28, “And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” God is doing something for us, even in the midst of trial, and for that we ought to be grateful. We ought not try to thwart God’s providences, we ought not shake our fist to heaven. We must be grateful for what God is achieving in us through trial, trusting that a trial is a providential test for our good.

The Outcome of the Testing of Faith

By the way, What is a test?

A test is a metallurgical procedure whereby a metal is purified from its ore. Our faith is the precious metal buried in the human being, which is like ore, having many imperfections. And this spiritual testing of faith purifies the faith in the believing subject which in turn results in a stronger substance, able to take the beating of the world. Hence, such testing “produces patience,” or, more accurately, “perseverance.” How pure and how strong would our faith be without trial? Constant world-comforts often lead us to a  growing complacency and laziness. But God is pleased to refine us, like metal, through the fires of trial. Through these means, He casts our attention upon Him rather than the pleasures of this life. Through trial, He increases our trust and comfort in Him whilst weaning us from our trust and comforts in the world.

What Does Jesus Think About Adultery?

What Does Jesus Think About Adultery?

by | Oct 24, 2022 | Biblical Theology, Practical Theology

Our Lord Jesus Christ is the very God who inspired the Mosaic law. Therefore, when in His incarnate state He teaches us the law, His interpretation of it is the full and perfect exposition of the true sense of the law. Remember, Jesus did not come to eradicate the law, but to perfect or complete it. (Matt. 5:17) Christ is the point at which the law finally meets its goal. So, when He apparently sets Himself against the law, we have to remember that He’s not contradicting what He Himself revealed to Moses all those years ago. Instead, He’s teaching the fuller sense of the law, and in the process, He is rebuking and correcting what we might call a Pharisaical “letter of the law onlyism.”

Matthew 5:28 & Our Lord’s Teaching on Adultery

After stating the letter of the law, He says, “But I say to you…” He does not appeal to another authority outside Himself. He does not, as the prophets of old did, begin His message with, “Thus saith the LORD.” He just says, “I say to you.” The Author of the law comes to deliver the law according to its fuller sense.

He internalizes the command forbidding adultery, “whoever looks at a woman to lust for her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Just as Jesus forbids soul-murder, (Matt. 5:21-22) here He forbids soul-adultery. We need to make a few observations regarding v. 28. First, what is it to “look at a woman to lust for her”? Second, what forms do this “looking,” and the resulting adultery take? Third, how is this adultery especially present and promoted in our culture today?

What is it to “look at a woman to lust for her”? It is probably necessary to note at the outset that this doesn’t apply to physical, and even sexual attraction, which is good and right. It is right for a man to be sexually attracted to a female, and a female to be sexually attracted to a male so long as that attraction is aimed toward marriage and occurring within the context of marriage. Sexual desire is good when ordered properly. Lust, however, is an inordinate sexual desire out of step with God’s purposes in and for creation.

Frederick Dale Bruner notes how the Christian church has both overreacted and under-reacted to this commandment throughout history. He writes, “The early church in particular tightened Jesus’ Command too intensely as the result of an occasionally dualistic antipathy to sex of to pleasure as sinful…”[1] And this is why forced celibacy of clergy and celibacy in general came to be seen as an exalted Christian virtue whilst marriage was more or less perceived as a necessary evil for those who couldn’t control their sexual desires. But Bruner then notes a more modern interpretation of the text. He goes on to say, “But later a losing occurred under the influence of an increasing secularity, where, for example, some interpreters said that Jesus did not forbid looking to lust at a woman but to lust at someone else’s wife…”[2]

Thus, Jesus’ words came to be understood by the modernist not as an exposition of the seventh commandment, but was limited only to the tenth, which says, “You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, nor his male servant, nor his female servant, nor his ox, nor his donkey, nor anything that is your neighbor’s.” (Ex. 20:17) According to this interpretation, lust is perfectly acceptable, so long as it isn’t toward someone else’s wife. But this couldn’t be a more fatal mistake.

The language of the phrase, “look at a woman to lust for her,” is notable. Given the preposition in, “to lust for her,” we might render it, “look at a woman in order to lust for her.” In view here is an extremely foreboding law that condemns the very look, even prior to the formal act of lust. A look that is intended to lust is what is here identified as spiritual adultery according to Christ Himself. A look or a glance ordered to lust is what is what Jesus condemns. And this brings us to the several forms such a look takes.

Forms of “Lustful Looking”

What forms does this “adultery of the eyes” take? Given the all-encompassing nature of the commandment, there is a twofold restriction: First, against lustful intent. And second, against the steps taken in order to lust, i.e., looking, seeing, or viewing. And this means the following are here expressly forbidden and condemned by our Lord:

Perverse thoughts. All sexual thoughts the include non-marital or extra-martial sexual relations of any kind are here forbidden by our Lord.

Looking at someone else with non-marital sexual intent. That glance at that woman or man at the mall, at school, or at work, which has a non-marital sexual character is explicitly declared a sin by our Lord.

Viewing pornography. Men and women are good enough at conjuring up adulterous images in their imaginations apart from pornography, but pornography plays on this already-present sin by adding fuel to the fire. It sets the mind and flesh on fire with an inordinate passion toward another person—not for their personality, not for their value as a human being, but as an object to be used and abused for one’s sexual pleasure. As Bruner puts it, the woman or man in the magazine or on the website “is no longer really a unique human being; she or he is not simply kindling, tinder, a thing; a way for one to enjoy oneself, to express oneself, to feel one’s powers.”

Conclusion

According to Jesus, the very look ordered to the purpose of lust is itself sin. We, of course, are aware of the obvious cases of adultery found in society—extra-marital sex and explicit violations of the marriage covenant by either husbands or wives. But we are less sensitive to those forms of adultery which go unnoticed by other people. Invisible to man, yet visible to God, adultery of the heart—including looking at another person with lustful intent—is less of a concern. Even worse, it’s generally accepted as a cultural norm. Everybody’s doin’ it!

But make no mistake, if imbibed and habitually practiced, apart from the twin graces of faith and repentance in and to Jesus Christ this invisible sin will do two things: It will, first, destroy your soul. And, second, it will eventually manifest itself in outward relationships in a very visible, destructive way. Silent sins eventually become very loud. The bosom sin of internal adultery is a poison that tastes sweet, but nevertheless kills.

Resources:

[1] Frederick Dale Bruner, The Christbook, Vol. I, (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1987), 221.

[2] Ibid., 220.