by Josh Sommer | Jan 17, 2020 | Biblical Theology, Hermeneutics, Social Justice
In their first podcast for 2020, Beeson Divinity School started the year off with a bang (transcript found here).
The hosts of the podcast, Doug Sweeney and Kristen Padilla, sat down to talk with Esau McCaulley and Osvaldo Padilla, both of which are professors—McCaulley at Wheaton, and Padilla at Beeson.
Their conversation spoke mainly to the issue of biblical interpretation and couched that discussion within the seat of what appears to be a more subjective, racialized approach to the interpretational endeavor. McCaulley states:
What I have in mind when I refer to African Americans are, the history, custom songs and experiences that have shaped the African American experience in the United States. And because of those experiences, we bring certain questions and issues and emotions to a Bible reading (emphasis mine).
Now, the assertion that we come to the biblical text with experiences, at first glance, seems prima facie true, and—in large part—it is. No one denies that we bring personal experiences to the biblical text. The question then becomes, What do we do with those experiences? He goes on to say:
And so when I talk about the African American tradition, I talk about all of those things. The way that our history, our experiences and our culture influences the questions we ask and the responses that we give to the answers the Bible brings back to us.
McCaulley, then, wants to encourage ethnically and culturally related questions to be asked by the would-be exegete as they interpret the Bible. But is this really how we ought to use experience in the task of biblical interpretation? Again, no one denies we have experiences with which we approach the text (such a denial would be absurd). The question is, What do we do with them?
I think the answer is largely found in the question that should motivate and shape all biblical interpretation in the first place. If you’ve been to seminary in the last fifty years, chances are you learned about the historical-grammatical method of interpretation. In fact, your head is probably still ringing from how hard the professor hammered it home. The fundamental question asked in that hermeneutical strategy is, What did the original author intend to say? Historically and most normally, however, the church has been motivated by the question, What does God intend by this or that text? I submit that the latter question ought to motivate and shape the way we come to the Bible. There is no more important question than, “What does God intend to communicate to us?”
So, when McCaulley talks about these questions with which blacks have supposedly approached the text he’s overcomplicating the interpretational task and he’s leading his followers and students down a dangerous road. They’ll be more prone to bend and mold the text into an attractive answer to problems arising from their experiences rather than ask and answer the question, “What has God said?” This is no way to discover truth. It’s only a way to put a bandaid on contemporary problems—what all forms of theological liberalism tries to do. Liberalism trades heaven for the here and now, and this is exactly what McCaulley is encouraging his students to do. McCaulley also says:
But we tend to say, “Well, okay, you have this one passage in Timothy, but let’s look at what the entire Bible reveals to us about God’s character and how that reveals what he thinks about slavery.” And so for that reason, we developed what I call the canonical instinct.
This just describes a tool Christians, black or white, slave or free, have been using for 2,000 years. It’s the analogia fidei or the analogy of faith. An interpretation of any given passage cannot contradict the whole of Christian teaching as it’s presented in the Scriptures. This prevents a-contextual readings of certain passages which people might use for wicked purposes.
If McCaulley wants to claim his subjective approach to the text has encouraged a canonical reading, he is sorely mistaken. It most certainly has encouraged men like James Cone and his Black Liberation Theology, but it has not encouraged a canon-centered reading of the text. That interpretational tool is as old as the Bible itself and is chiefly motivated by the question, “What did God say?” not questions arising from subjective experiences. Do not be fooled. McCaulley is not advocating for an objective reading of the Bible. He’s arguing for a reading of the Bible shaped by fluid experience; a reading that’s more Schleiermachian than orthodox.
The experiences McCaulley suggests his black students appeal to are constrained by their blackness. It’s the black experience that should motivate black Christians to ask certain questions which then motivates their biblical interpretation—interpretation designed to answer questions arising from experience. McCaulley’s suggestion gets it all backwards. We derive the doctrine first, from Scripture, then we apply that doctrine to our situation. Our situation should not determine the doctrine. Our doctrine should determine how we respond in any given situation.
McCaulley’s method sets up an unnecessary and unbiblical competition between black and white bible expositors. If a black theologian comes to a particular conclusion from Scripture using an approach shaped, at least in part, by his experience as an oppressed black man, then any white theologian who suggests his reading is wrong will, no doubt, be accused of racism or prejudice. The quest for truth will be completely interrupted. The black interpretation of the bible must be right because it grows out of an experience of victimhood. To call the victim wrong not only appears to be impious, but it smacks of insensitivity and racism.
Why not avoid all of this conflict by reading the Bible as it was meant to be read? Why not act like children of God, who are no longer Jews nor Greeks, but Christians, and learn at the feet of Jesus, asking the all-important question, “What do you want to teach me, my Lord?” Other questions can be asked and answered after we discover what God has actually said (Jn. 5:24).
by Josh Sommer | Dec 8, 2019 | Biblical Theology, Practical Theology
Now I want to move to some biblical examples of meekness.
Let’s start with Moses
I think sometimes when we think of Moses we think of a harsh judge. That’s, in one sense, a right way to think of Moses because Moses received and communicated the law of God to the people of Israel, and we know there’s no saving efficacy in the law itself. So, to speak of Moses is to speak of the man through whom God delivered His condemning standard of holiness. However, Moses, though not perfect, is a shining example of meekness. Numbers 11:1-3 says:
Now when the people complained, it displeased the LORD; for the LORD heard it, and His anger was aroused. So the fire of the LORD burned among them, and consumed some in the outskirts of the camp. Then the people cried out to Moses, and when Moses prayed to the LORD, the fire was quenched. So he called the name of the place Taberah, because the fire of the LORD had burned among them.
When the people cried out, what did Moses do? Imagine the situation. Moses is a faithful man. He’s seen what God has done in the past and he grasps the magnitude of grace shown to the people of Israel. Can you imagine coming through the red sea—walls of water on either side (who knows how tall)? Can you fathom watching the destruction of Egypt’s army after the Jews finished crossing. And these same people—the people who witnessed all these wonders—now come before Moses grumbling. They’re complaining. What would you do? What did Moses do?
Moses prayed. The people complained, the Lords wrath was burning hot, and before the Lord’s fire spilled forth in holy anger, Moses—as a faithful intercessor—prayed. He prayed! He didn’t return the people’s complaints with insults. He didn’t return the people’s complaints with snarky impotence. He prayed. What is this but exemplary meekness toward God and neighbor? Moses is trusting in God for the sustenance of the people, and he’s loving the people by interceding for them.
The second example is Solomon, son of David
Solomon was known for many, many sins. Among them were adultery, covetousness, and idolatry. Yet, Solomon managed to demonstrate meekness. In Ecclesiastes 7:9, writing in his older years, he says, “Do not hasten in your spirit to be angry, For anger rests in the bosom of fools.” What’s the elder Solomon’s advice? It’s meekness. It’s the humility which, like a firehose, dousts the flames of unrighteous anger. To be meek is to imitate God in humble long-suffering. Nahum 1:3 says, “The LORD is slow to anger and great in power, And will not at all acquit the wicked.”
The third and most primal example is that of the Lord Jesus Christ
Matthew 12:14-15 says:
Then the Pharisees went out and plotted against Him, how they might destroy Him. But when Jesus knew it, He withdrew from there. And great multitudes followed Him, and He healed them all.
Here was Jesus—He had just healed a man on the Sabbath, and it was witnessed by the religious elite. This point in the text represents a tipping point in the tension between Jesus and the surrounding religious leaders. We need to notice two things about this situation. First, at this juncture, the Pharisees began plotting against Jesus, how they might destroy Him. Second, Jesus found out about the scheme. Now Jesus had two routes available to Him. He could’ve taken an offensive posture and reviled the Pharisees, inciting all kinds of violence against them. Or, He could’ve retreated, without retaliation. And in fact, that’s exactly what He did; and Matthew makes it clear to us that this was the fulfillment of a prophecy in Isaiah 42:1-4, when it says:
“Behold! My Servant whom I have chosen, My Beloved in whom My soul is well pleased! I will put My Spirit upon Him, And He will declare justice to the Gentiles. He will not quarrel nor cry out, Nor will anyone hear His voice in the streets. A bruised reed He will not break, And smoking flax He will not quench, Till He sends forth justice to victory…
This is the example for the Christian. Christ perfectly defines what it means to be meek in His interaction with the Pharisees. He does not recompense evil for evil, and when He does sharply respond to the Pharisees, Sadducees, and Scribes, it’s in the interest of the sheep, so that they would no true religion from false religion, true faith from false faith, authoritative teaching from man-made teaching. Jesus is the very perfection of meekness.
by Josh Sommer | Nov 13, 2019 | Biblical Theology, Systematic Theology
Christ’s active obedience is His perfect obedience to the Law of God. Christ’s passive obedience is His taking our sins upon Himself, being nailed to the cross, and suffering the punishment of God’s wrath unto death—the wrath we deserved. Historically, the majority of Protestants have agreed that both Christ’s active and passive obedience is imputed to believers upon the exercise of saving faith. But, some have disagreed.
Some, particularly within the Federal Visionist and Arminian camps (cf. Berkhoff, Systematic Theology, 515), deny the imputation of the active obedience of Christ to the believer. They might claim that forgiveness of sins is all the Christian needs. Then, by virtue of his own righteousness or obedience, he will reach final justification (or something along those lines). The believer only need be rendered innocent of their sin.
This obviously denies the need for an imputed positive righteousness.
The problem, however, is that this denies very clear Scriptural data. For example, Romans 4:11 says:
And he received the sign of circumcision, a seal of the righteousness of the faith which he had while still uncircumcised, that he might be the father of all those who believe, though they are uncircumcised, that righteousness might be imputed to them also…
Those who deny the imputation of Christ’s righteousness need to at least admit, in light of Romans 4, that there is a righteousness imputed (counted to) those with faith. The question, then, is whose righteousness is it? It can’t be the original righteousness of the believer. This righteousness is coming from somewhere else and is counted to the believer. That’s what imputation is. It’s an alien righteousness coming to be possessed by someone without their own righteousness.
The objector may claim that v. 12 makes clear that which was lacking in v. 11. Verse 12 reads as follows:
… and the father of circumcision to those who not only are of the circumcision, but who also walk in the steps of the faith which our father Abraham had while still uncircumcised.
“Ah,” our pretend objector might say, “you see, this righteousness is imputed because of faith plus walking according to that faith.” This is not what the text says. The person who walks faithfully walks because of faith, a faith which Paul has already claimed is the instrument of this imputed righteousness (vv. 9, 10).
Moreover, there is a distinction between faith on the one hand and the outworking of that faith on the other; otherwise, steps would not be the indirect object with faith being the direct object. If our interlocutor wanted to conflate the steps of faith with faith itself, they would simply need to explain why Paul doesn’t use the adjectival form pistos instead of the noun pistis. Pistos would describe someone who obeys from a heart of faith—a faithful person. It’s used of Epaphras in Colossians 1:7. In that case, verse 12 might read as follows: “… and the father of circumcision to those who not only are of the circumcision, but who are faithful…” But, as you can tell, not even the immediate context would allow for such a reading since Paul wants to describe the faith that was possessed by Abraham, antecedent to his obedience in circumcision. There is a necessary distinction between faith as something which is possessed, and obedience which is something that is performed as a result of the faith possessed.
Therefore, with Paul, we should conclude that Christ “became for us wisdom from God—and righteousness and sanctification and redemption… (1 Cor. 1:30).”
by Josh Sommer | Oct 22, 2019 | Biblical Theology, Elenctic Theology, Practical Theology
Should women be preachers? The Scriptures answer that question resoundingly. But, before I get into the text, I want to disclose the reason for which I write. It has become popular, yet once again, to neglect the Scriptures in favor of emotional responses and unsupported claims of divine calling. Beth Moore said in a recent tweet:
I did not surrender to a calling of man when I was 18 years old. I surrendered to a calling of God. It never occurs to me for a second to not fulfill it. I will follow Jesus—and Jesus alone—all the way home. And I will see His beautiful face and proclaim, Worthy is the Lamb!
Prove it.
The burden is on Moore to prove she was called by God. No child of God is obligated to listen to someone who can’t ground their “calling” in the Scriptures. How do pastors know they were “called” by God into the office of elder? Is it because they had an experience? Is it because they heard a “still, small voice”? Is it because they feel like it’s right?
No.
It’s because they desire the office of elder; and it’s because they meet the qualifications for it given in 1 Timothy 3. It’s not a passing feeling, it’s not an emotional impulse, it’s an unquenchable desire which is totally informed by—and made subject to—the holy Scriptures.
So, if someone desires to preach or teach, should they do so merely because they want to? Should they do it because they feel like it’s the right thing to do? Why don’t we put the touchy-feelies aside for a moment and ask the question that’s currently not being asked, What does God say?
Here are five biblical reasons why women (insert Beth Moore) shouldn’t preach:
I. The Law Forbids It
Or, at least, that’s what the apostle Paul says.
In 1 Corinthians 14:34, Paul says, “The women are to keep silent in the churches; for they are not permitted to speak, but are to subject themselves, just as the Law also says (NASB).” Now, admittedly, it’s not clear exactly what portion of the Law Paul refers to, but that’s quite beside the point. An apostle, writing under the inspiration of God the Spirit, says that the Law of God commands women to keep silent in the assemblies. It’s possible he’s cryptically referring to Genesis 3:16, where God says the husband will rule over the wife. The Westminster Reference edition of the KJV also cites Numbers 30 as a possible cross reference. While Paul’s Old Testament interpretive method may not sit well with many, the New Testament clearly grounds this ecclesial practice of female quietness in the Law of God, not in some cultural phenomena.
A possible objection may be that Paul is speaking about the civil laws in Corinth. This would be historically impossible. In a town where the Aphrodite cult was at large, primitive feminism was nothing new. It was normal, in Corinth, for women to usurp the role of men. First Corinthians 11 serves to clarify the Corinthian Christian’s understanding of gender roles within the context of a debauched society where it was no big deal for a woman to “remove her covering [husband]” and act on her own self-perceived authority.
Oddly, there is a push for women in the church to begin doing the exact same thing. Perhaps they align themselves more closely with the Aphrodite cult of first century Corinth than they do biblical Christianity.
II. The New Testament Forbids It
First Corinthians 14, already cited above, demonstrates that women are not to speak within the assembly. Surely this would preclude preaching! Another place where this is clearly seen is 1 Timothy 2:11-15. There, Paul writes to Timothy:
Let a woman learn in silence with all submission. And I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, but to be in silence. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived, fell into transgression. Nevertheless she will be saved in childbearing if they continue in faith, love, and holiness, with self-control.
The word for let at the very beginning of the passage is in the imperative mood which means Paul is issuing a command. Verse 12 is even more enlightening. Paul says, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man.” The word for teach could also be rendered instruct. Is preaching instructing? If not, what is it? Isn’t preaching the instructing of an assembly in the things of God? If it is, then it’s not lawful for women to preach. The word for silence means quietness, and Paul uses it twice in this passage. A woman who obeys God and learns in silence adorns the Gospel and rightly understands Christian worship (Paul’s words, not mine).
III. Preaching Is the Duty of Elders
We have seen that women are not permitted to teach. But, if not women, who? According to 1 Timothy 3:1-7, men who are able to teach—among other things—are rightful candidates for the office of elder. This is one of the clearest linkages of the act of teaching to the office of elder in the Scriptures. Deacons are not required to teach, elders are. Men who desire to be elders must be able to teach. According to the New Testament, elders, or those who would become elders, are the only persons duty-bound to teach. There is no such thing, within the church, of a teaching or preaching ministry apart from eldership. If you write a blog, you’re not doing ministry. You’re writing a blog. If you have a podcast, you’re not doing ministry. You’re hosting a podcast. If you’re pulpit supply, that’s great. But, formally, you’re not doing ministry. Ministry happens within the church according to two offices: elders and deacons. The requirements for elders and, therefore, teachers, are found in 1 Timothy 3.
They must be qualified men.
IV. Caretakers of Souls are Men
In Hebrews 13:17 it is written:
Obey those who rule over you, and be submissive, for they watch out for your souls, as those who must give account. Let them do so with joy and not with grief, for that would be unprofitable for you.
The word for those is a masculine particle. These rulers are men who, as we know from 1 Timothy, are qualified leaders or elders within the church. These are men who are tasked with shepherding Christ’s flock. These rulers are intimately connected to the care of souls under the ultimate headship of the Lord Jesus Christ.
Do preachers preach for the sake of souls? If they do, shouldn’t they be men? Hebrews 13 seems to indicate that they’re men. Elders are men, teachers are men, rulers of Christ’s flock are men. We have no other example. To the contrary, we have commands in Scripture telling us that only men should be preachers and teachers in the church (1 Cor. 14:34; 1 Tim. 2:11-15). This should be clear enough so as to ward off any controversy.
V. Creation Bears Witness
One thing I did not cover in 1 Timothy 2:11-15 is Paul’s grounding his words in the created order and the fall: “For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived, fell into transgression.” Paul is saying, “And I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man, but to be in silence… [because] Adam was formed first, then Eve.” Adding to that, he uses the fall of man to bolster his point. It wasn’t Adam who was deceived, it was Eve. Satan aimed his attack at the woman because she was the most vulnerable part of the Eden family. Adam’s sin consisted (at least in part) in not loving his wife enough to protect her from such threats and, rather than lovingly correcting his bride, he capitulated to her behavior.
Instead of leading Eve away from disobedience, he followed her into it.
Women should not be teachers precisely because Satan’s crosshairs lie upon them. He will play on their tendency to nurture in order to soften their minds and their hearts, making them evermore vulnerable to corruption. This is no insult to women. But, it is a testimony to the differing roles and responsibilities God has infused into the created order.
Women are not meant to be pastors, and they’re not meant to act like pastors. They have another calling. Beth Moore claims to be called by God; but she couldn’t have been called by the true God of the Scriptures. That God has already spoken, and Moore stands corrected by divine words.
by Josh Sommer | Oct 18, 2019 | Biblical Theology, Covenant Theology, Hermeneutics
In the previous post we discussed typology. A type is one thing used by God to signify another, greater thing. A type foreshadows something other than itself. Israel was not Jesus Christ, but it foreshadowed the coming Messiah in both positive and negative ways. Positive when Israel obeyed God. Negative when it disobeyed God and caused the saints of old to realize how desperate they were for God’s grace in the coming Messiah. Additionally, that toward which the type looks is also greater than the type. The antitype always surpasses its type. Jesus Christ was the other and greater antitype of the nation of Israel, of the Davidic line of kings, etc.
Following typology, we must look at the concept of covenant, since typology is intimately related to covenant. In this article, I want to begin our discussion on God’s covenants by defining covenant and then relating the concept of covenant to typology.
What Is a Covenant?
Covenants are often defined as mutual agreements between two parties, one greater and one lesser, for the purposes of improving the situation of the lesser party. The greater party, then, imposes conditions on the lesser party, and the lesser party obeys those conditions in order to earn some reward. In the ancient near east, these were referred to as Suzerain/vassal treaties, agreements, or covenants. Covenants between God and man are similar, with some obvious differences worth mentioning. Whereas with purely human covenants, in which both parties must cooperate with one another, divine covenants are unilaterally imposed upon the lesser party, God’s people. Never is there an instance where God asks for the participation of the other party. He simply demands it and then announces blessings and cursings for obedience or disobedience, respectively.
For example, we might take the first covenant found in Scripture, the covenant of works. Though the word covenant is not so much as muttered in the first three chapters of Genesis, there most certainly exists a covenantal transaction. God put Adam in the Garden in order that Adam should tend and keep it (Gen. 3:15). There is already a way of life prescribed in the Garden, but it becomes more specific. There is natural work in the Garden to be done, but then God adds a law, saying, “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die (Gen. 2:16-17).” Now, a law by itself is not a covenant, but a law with blessings for obedience and curses for disobedience imposed upon a person or persons is a covenant. In the case of Adam, the blessing for covenantal obedience is life, and the curse for covenant disobedience is death, both spiritual and physical. In the covenant of works, God imposed a law upon man, it was not voluntary on man’s part. But because God is a gracious God, He offered blessings for the obedience of that law, with curses in the case of rebellion.
Another example would be the covenant of circumcision made with Abraham in Genesis 12, 15, and 17. There is much to say about this covenant, but the basic ingredients are conditions (Gen. 17:10), blessings for keeping the conditions, and curses for not keeping the conditions (Gen. 17:14: Deut. 4:1). The Mosaic Covenant contained the same ingredients: conditions, blessings, curses (Lev. 20:22).
Broadly speaking, therefore, a divine covenant is that which is imposed upon man, regardless of man’s agreement or permission. But, because God is a gracious God, He includes blessings for those who keep His covenant for the sake of their improvement, and curses for those who disobey.
Form & Matter
An important distinction with regard to covenants is that made between form on the one hand and matter on the other. We need to be asking the question, “What’s a covenant made out of?” In other words, what’s the material of any given covenant? There are basically two different kinds of material given in Scripture: that of law and that of promise. A covenant is either “made out of” law, in which case obedience is required for covenant membership; or it is a covenant made out of promise, in which case God unilaterally makes a keeps the covenant for His people, irrespective of their works (Gal. 3:18).
Now, the matter of the covenant always dictates the form. Law and promise never intermingle when it comes to how we relate to God. We either relate to God through obedience to the law, or we relate to God through gracious promise. Dr. Sam Renihan writes:
When it comes to justification, the material basis of a covenant is either law or promise. Works/law and grace/promise do not intermingle.
If two parties are committed to each other based on a law, a covenant of works has been established. If two parties are committed to each other based on a promise, a covenant of grace has been established. The matter dictates the form (cf. ‘Form and Matter…’).
So, if the matter is law, the form is works or obedience to that law. If the matter is promise, then God’s free grace [in Christ] is the form. There is no such thing as a conditional/unconditional covenant, where a person is related to God by faith + works. A person or people are always related to God by either law/obedience or promise/grace, never both.
Covenants & Typology
How are covenant and typology related? There are several ways in which types relate to covenants, but the most apparent can be found in the purpose of covenants. God always makes covenants with His people in order to improve their station in the world. Never is there an instance in Scripture where God institutes a covenant for the purpose of moving backwards. New wine always belongs in new wineskins. Newer covenants always improve God’s people from older covenants. What was promised in the Abrahamic Covenant was a people (Gen. 12:1-3), a kingship (Gen. 17:6), and land (Gen. 15:7; 17:8). The subsequent covenants functioned to move Israel toward the fulfillment of those promises. There is a progression of improvement seen throughout the various covenants made in the Old Testament. The Mosaic Covenant instituted laws for the nation to live by in the land they were to inherit. It’s right after this they came to possess the promised land (Jos. 21:43-45). The Davidic Covenant established a line of kings. There was only one promise to be fulfilled, which was that of the skull-crushing Messiah (Gen. 3:15; 12:3, 7; Gal. 3:16).
How does all this relate to typology? Remember our definition of types. Types are that which point forward to other and greater things. Likewise, covenants always look toward better covenants, the greatest of which is the New Covenant. The Old Covenant looks forward to the New. As with types, the Old Covenant, which began with Abraham, goes away when the New Covenant arrives. The older covenants serve to typify the New Covenant. The New Covenant contains the ultimate fulfillment of all God’s promises (2 Cor. 1:20). Hebrews 8:6 tells us, “But now He has obtained a more excellent ministry, inasmuch as He is also Mediator of a better covenant, which was established on better promises.”
Again, as with typology, covenants never look back to what was, but always move God’s people toward what is to come. Covenants progress to better covenants, and the New Covenant is the best of the best. Never is there an instance in Scripture where a covenant reverts back to an older covenant. Thus, the New Covenant doesn’t move God’s people backward to an earthly temple, an earthly land, and an earthly king, but forward to a heavenly temple, a heavenly land, and a heavenly king (Heb. 11:16; 12:22).
Conclusion
A covenant, most basically put, is an imposed relationship between God and man, upon man, for the improvement of man. Covenants are made out of conditions, blessings, and curses. Blessings for obedience and curses for disobedience. The New Covenant differs from the older covenants in that it was not a covenant of works, but a covenant of grace. In the New Covenant, conditions are kept by Another, and the blessings received by Christ from the Father as a result of His obedience are mediated to Christ’s blood-bought people. Covenants are closely related to types because the older covenants subserved the New, ultimate, covenant by foreshadowing or revealing it. Like types, the older covenants looked forward to another, greater New Covenant. When the New Covenant came, the older ones passed away.
In the next post of this series, I’d like to discuss how covenants should relate to our biblical-interpretive endeavor.
by Josh Sommer | Oct 16, 2019 | Biblical Theology, Hermeneutics
Out of Egypt I called My Son.
— Matthew 2:15
In the first post, we looked at the necessity of allowing the Bible to speak for itself. We need to avoid defining terms such as “literal” in extra-biblical ways. What is literal and what is not literal is ultimately determined by the Bible itself, not by any standard we arbitrarily choose to impose upon it. An example I used was Psalm 102:25, where the Scriptures attribute an arm to God. Here, the Scriptures do not mean to tell us that God has an anatomical arm. It’s using non-literal language (anthropomorphism) to communicate some deeper literal truth about God (His power to defeat His enemies). Thus, Scripture sometimes uses non-literal means to communicate literal truths.
Here in this second post, I want to talk about a distinct, yet relevant concept: typology. Typology refers to God’s use of things to signify or foreshadow other and greater things. For example, I believe Matthew 2:15 shows us that the nation of Israel was a type of the other and greater Israel, the Lord Jesus Christ. The purpose of the nation of Israel, though imperfect, was to foreshadow its other and greater antitype, the Son of God.
How Does Typology Work?
As mentioned above, a type is purposed to show forth it’s other and greater antitype. The antitype is the fulfillment of the type. Now, we need to properly understand these terms “other” and “greater,” respectively. Jesus is not national Israel, so Jesus is other than national Israel. Likewise, Jesus is better or more desirable than national Israel, being the sufficient Lord and Savior of His people, so Jesus is greater than national Israel. Jesus, as the antitype, is other and greater than His type.
So, if Jesus is other than national Israel, in what sense are the two related? The two are related insofar as Israel’s purpose is to reveal something about its greater fulfillment. Israel is God’s “son” in the sense that it reveals something about the coming, greater Son of God (Hos. 11:1; Matt. 2:15). The nation of Israel is not God’s ultimate Son, Israel is not the firstborn of all creation; Israel is intended to bear witness to that ultimate Son, to the firstborn of all creation. Sometimes it bears witness to Christ positively. When Israel obeys God it is positively foreshadowing the one Who will perfectly obey God. Sometimes, however, Israel bears witness to Christ in a negative way. When Israel rebels against God, we learn that the people of old were in desperate need of something other and greater to stand in Israel’s place—Someone who would perfectly fulfill that righteousness to which the nation of Israel was commanded.
There are some implications to be drawn out here. Since the antitype is always other and greater than the type, when the antitype arrives, the type goes away. A shadow flees when the shadow-caster stands in its place. The Eiffel Tower and the Eiffel Tower’s shadow cannot occupy the same place at the same time and in the same relationship (cf. formal laws of logic). So, wherever the Eiffel Tower is present, its shadow is absent. So too, when the fulfillment of the type arrives—the great and wondrous Lord Jesus—the type goes away.
Jesus communicates this point clearly using the analogy of wine and wine skins. He says:
Then the disciples of John came to Him, saying, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast often, but Your disciples do not fast?” And Jesus said to them, “Can the friends of the bridegroom mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? But the days will come when the bridegroom will be taken away from them, and then they will fast. No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment; for the patch pulls away from the garment, and the tear is made worse. Nor do they put new wine into old wineskins, or else the wineskins break, the wine is spilled, and the wineskins are ruined. But they put new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved.”
When the new comes, it can’t be shoved back into the old. It doesn’t fit. Nor is the old the right context for the new. Jesus, referencing the Old Covenant ordinances says that something greater has come. Therefore, since something greater has come, let’s not try to go back to the old. When the antitype comes, the type goes away. When the other and greater Sacrifice comes, the lesser sacrifices disappear. Their purpose has been fulfilled.
Hebrews 9 in its entirety is another wonderful place where this principle is drawn out and explained. The author of Hebrews contrasts the earthly tabernacle and old ordinances with the heavenly sanctuary, saying, “But Christ came as High Priest of the good things to come, with the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made with hands, that is, not of this creation.” Again we see that when the greater comes, the lesser goes away.
Applying This View of Typology
Perhaps two instances wherein this view of typology may be brought to bear in the most lucid of terms is within two different, yet related and ongoing discussions. The first discussion is that had between baptists and paedobaptists, concerning their respective views of God’s covenants. Is circumcision a type of baptism? The paedobaptist would answer “yes” assuming the antitype to only be better (in a qualitative sense), yet not other than its type. Like circumcision, baptism still applies to children of covenant members, and it continues to not only be a sign but also a seal of covenant membership.
The Baptist, however, believing that a type must be not only better but other, would say that baptism’s design isn’t like that of circumcision. In fact, they wouldn’t really say circumcision and baptism are related along typological lines at all. Circumcision is a type of the atoning work of Christ—the other and greater blood of the covenant. It’s other because it’s not our flesh and blood which was cut, but Christ’s; and it’s greater because it’s sufficient for the expiation and propitiation for our sins, whereas circumcision was not. It also brings us not into a covenant of works but a covenant of grace. It’s other and greater.
The second discussion may be one had between the Reformed and dispensationalists or futurist premillennialists who believe in an eschatological return of the national, theocratic state of Israel. The dispensationalists have essentially the same view of types as our presbyterian friends do, where the antitype is really just a better version of its type, yet not necessarily other. The imperfect national Israel of the Old Testament is a type of a better, more pure national Israel yet to come. The seventeenth century London Baptists would argue that the antitype of national Israel has to be other and greater. It would have to be Christ who, according to Matthew 2:15, is the other and greater Son. Other in that this Son is not a nation. Greater because this Son was perfectly obedient, even unto death on a cross, and secures a better inheritance than that of earthly land (Heb. 1:4), which is all national Israel could secure with its obedience (Deut. 6:18).
Conclusion
This post was not intended to present every view of typology discussed in an exhaustive fashion. However, I hope you are able to see the significance of how Christians view the relationship of types to their antitypes. Types, while related, are not their antitypes. Antitypes are always other and greater. God’s covenants are always intended to improve the situation of His people. The New Covenant is the superior arrangement and we, therefore, ought to return to the other and lesser arrangements which have gone before us. The Substance has come, the shadows must now go away.
In the next post, I will begin a discussion on the covenants and their relationship to one another. I will begin that discussion with a post defining the term covenant.
— J. S.
