The passing of Mr. Spock

This is a (probably) one-time digression from the usual range of topics on this blog. Because of my new, eternal interests, I largely gave up television, including Star Trek reruns, about forty years ago. But learning today of the passing of Leonard Nimoy, who played Spock on Star Trek, reminded me of his influence on me years ago—and a comment I made about this just two nights ago.

Nimoy himself introduced the divided fingers for the Vulcan salute, “Live long and prosper,” based on his own Jewish background: in Jewish tradition, priests held their hands that way when they offered the priestly benediction, filtering the Shekinah. Nimoy also later played the prophet Samuel in a movie about King David. But at the time I watched Star Trek, I didn’t have any religious interests.

Two night ago, I was telling a friend how, when I was nine, I didn’t believe in God, in life after death, or meaning in life. I didn’t see a reason to live. But then I thought of Mr. Spock: rational and logical, yet he didn’t decide to end his life. Perhaps I didn’t know a reason to live, I reasoned, but I also didn’t have a reason to die right away, either. Perhaps there was a reason, and I would find it later. By age thirteen, I was exploring Plato on the soul’s immortality; by this age, I could find faults in his logic, but Plato’s quest for meaning and hope influenced me. Eventually I did discover meaning in life in God. But for a nine-year-old, the image of a rational Mr. Spock served a somewhat irrational yet helpful purpose in my life. My friend said, “God works in strange ways.”

Indeed, and with the passing of Mr. Spock, I am reminded again how in a very strange way that fictitious character played by Leonard Nimoy helped encourage me to live.

Miracles lecture at Missouri State University

The religion department at Missouri State University, along with the Assemblies of God Theological Seminary, welcomed Craig to give a lecture about miracles at MSU on Feb. 5, 2015.
This lecture was videotaped by the Assemblies of God Seminary and can be viewed at the following address (which will also eventually post Craig’s lectures on a different subject offered at AGTS the same week):
https://www.agts.edu/news/news_archives/2015_01horton_lecturesafter.html
This vimeo for this particular lecture is toward the bottom of the page.

The full lecture is about an hour, followed by questions, but viewers can sample different parts of it if they wish. (Craig readily admits that he is a better writer than speaker. But just in case you like hearing or watching more than reading, or want the free version …)

Rumors of miracles

The United Methodist renewal magazine Good News recently published an article by Craig that they titled, “Rumors of miracles.”
You can read it at: http://goodnewsmag.org/2014/12/rumors-of-miracles/ (Note: this link will take you there automatically.)
Other articles in the same issue, such as Wendy Deichmann’s excellent “Lessons from Mozambique” (http://goodnewsmag.org/2014/12/lessons-from-mozambique/) are also well-worth reading (especially if you have read too many of my articles on the subject!)

The whole armor of God–Ephesians 6

There are various dimensions of what people often call “spiritual warfare,” but one dimension we sometimes miss is the mundane, day-to-day way we treat each other and walk with God … things like truth, justice, faith, sharing our faith, and so forth. That is, some of the very things that Ephesians 6 discusses when it talks about the full armor of God.

I wrote a fuller essay on this subject–longer than the normal blog post here–for a book edited partly by my friend Rob Plummer of Southern Seminary. The essay is available free at the following location (as well as some other references on the internet):
http://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/justintaylor/files/2013/02/Keener-chapter-from-Pauls-Missionary-Methods-2.pdf
Although I touch on some other elements of spiritual warfare, I emphasize here the practical, day-to-day dimensions involved. Of course, I still have much to learn in practice; but I believe you will find the Bible study helpful.

How can there be three persons in one Trinity?

How can we speak of more than one “person” within the Trinity? And what implications does this idea have for our lives?

Here I’m not summarizing biblical evidence for the Trinity; this is easily done but it is frequently provided elsewhere. Instead I’m trying to offer one window into what we may mean when we speak of more than one person in the Trinity.

Not always speaking precisely

Greek and Latin theologians developed precise terminology in their languages, but no language that I know of always communicates precisely without explanation. For this reason, it may be that many who do not use others’ precise language may mean something very much the same, whereas some others who do use the language do not understand what they are supposed to mean by it.

I was surprised, for example, to discover that even some who speak of “modes” (using technically Sabellian language) mean something similar to what most Trinitarians mean by “persons.” Neither term (whether in English or Greek) is precisely biblical, but certainly the New Testament regularly distinguishes the Son from the Father. Granted, Jesus and the Father are one (John 10:30), but Jesus also prays that believers may be one even as Jesus and the Father are one (17:22). Jesus is divine, yet he is “with” the Father, in intimate relationship with him (1:1-2, 18). Jesus models intimacy with God for us, doing only what he sees the Father do (5:19), reciprocally knowing (10:15; 15:15; 17:25) and loving (3:35; 5:20; 10:17; 14:31; 15:9; 17:24) the Father. Yet, distinctively, the Father sent the Son (5:23, 36-37; 6:44, 57; 8:16, 18, 42; 10:36; 12:49; 14:24; 17:21, 25; 20:21) and the Son expressed his perfect unity with the Father at least partly in perfect submission to him (10:18; 12:49-50; 14:28).

My agenda in this post is not to challenge Sabellian language, despite my disagreement with it; my point is simply to observe that not everyone uses their language precisely. In fact, most of us cannot match the precision of those theologians who, devoting their lives to the study of the Trinity, have developed very precise ways to articulate relations within the Trinity.

The supremely personal God

But coming back to the question: how can there be distinct persons, or distinguishable entities or actors, within one God? Although we as humanity are made in God’s image (Gen 1:26-27), analogies made from finite persons to an infinite Person, however valuable because of our desire to understand on some level, remain limited. Even the creation of male and female together as God’s image, which might be thought to reflect a sort of complementarity within unity and thus may provide an analogy, may not fully demonstrate or communicate the point. (If pressed far enough, the analogy of water, ice and steam that is sometimes used comes closer to illustrating modalism.)

The problem here, however, is more a problem of language and analogy than of God’s being. God’s personhood is on a higher dimension than ours; he is infinitely more personal than we are. Even with what we know from the world around us, we should be able to recognize that at higher levels of understanding apparent problems at lower levels can be resolved. This happens in theoretical mathematics, physics, and biochemistry. We perceive it ourselves when we distinguish different levels of causation (à la Aristotle): writing can be caused on one level by ink on paper, at another level by human muscles and nerves, on another by a human mind, and on yet another by the social and linguistic conventions that person uses to communicate, or by which that person is shaped. (Christian thinkers often apply this sort of analogy to levels of causation in creation.)

If God is infinite, God can be more personal than we are, and can be revealed in three persons, each of whom could also be no less personal than we are, while remaining one God. (As Richard Bauckham has argued, God’s oneness distinguishes him from all other reality, which is created. It does not prevent us from acknowledging distinctions within God where God has revealed those to us.)

{This one paragraph is a 2018 addition to the original Jan. 2015 post: One human analogy might be identical triplets, who share exactly the same DNA yet are distinct persons. This is a far better analogy than water, ice and steam! But ultimately the unity of the persons within the Trinity goes further than even this. To see the Son is to see the Father (John 14:7); he is the Father’s image (Col 1:15). By itself, “image” could be used even in Arian terms, but in Trinitarian terms it reinforces Jesus’s deity. If from our vantage point we see a line directly from the front, we see only a point. From a three-dimensional standpoint, however, we would see a line. If God is not limited to our dimensions, to see or experience any member of the Trinity is to see or experience God; our finite experience, however, does not limit God’s identity beyond our finite experience. We can trust God’s self-revelation that transcends our limited dimensions of experience.}

Some trinitarian theologians have emphasized other-centeredness as a necessary attribute of God as love. They have thus contended for the necessity of more than one person within God. I am not sure that we would have thought of that connection had we not already believed in the Trinity, but the point nevertheless is well-taken. The deep love shared between the Father and Son, so emphasized in John’s Gospel, seems inseparable from their divine unity.

Implications for us

Because the Son, eternal in being, is worth more than all the cosmos, the love that God demonstrated in sacrificing Him for our sins is more vast than the non-human universe. One time in prayer I felt that God was saying, “The sea is vast; but it is not vast enough to begin to contain my boundless love for my children, nor to contain all the wisdom of my purposes. My giving love to you is greater than all the sands of the seashore, more vast than the seas, higher than the mountains, more awesome than the skies.”

How can one be confident that God’s love is so deep? The Father surely loved the Son, who shared his glory before the world began, more deeply than all creation. If he gave Jesus’s blood to restore us to himself, then surely he loves humans more than the rest of the universe. (So far as we currently know, in terms of information content we are the pinnacle of complexity within God’s creation.)

God’s love for us in Christ is beyond measurement, other than the precious blood of Christ. To be loved by an infinitely personal God is an incomparable and unending blessing, merited not by us but by Jesus, and initiated in the heart of God’s love.

“… so the world may know that you sent me, and have loved them, in the same way that you have loved me”—John 17:23b

“For this is the way that God loved the world: he gave his only Son”—John 3:16a

Selma

This is not a full post and I don’t do movie reviews here (not enough time to see enough movies to do it well).
But if I can make a partial exception on this U.S. holiday, for my U.S. readers: “Selma” (a movie about Martin Luther King, Jr., and his colleagues demanding that African-Americans be allowed to vote in a location where that was being obstructed) is one of the most Christian secular movies you could possibly see. Of course not every role in the movie in a positive one, as it was not in history (and young children might be disappointed to know that Lyndon B. Johnson, not unlike Richard Nixon, was not averse to vulgarities), but this film doesn’t play down the vital role of faith in the movement, including that of its many leaders who were ministers in the Black Church (and some white ministers who joined them).

Rewards and grace, part III: What the reward is

The first installment of this blog post (at http://www.craigkeener.org/how-can-we-be-saved-by-grace-yet-rewarded-for-works/) asked whether rewards are compatible with grace (an issue revisited at points also in the later installments). The second and longest installment (at Rewards part 2) examined what we’re rewarded for. This third installment extrapolates from some biblical teaching to try to understand what the reward is.

The third part is my own theological exploration. Like any theological exploration about the future, it may be open to debate, since “Eye has not seen and ear has not heard”—though God has given us a foretaste by his Spirit (1 Cor 2:9-10). I simply offer my best attempt to synthesize the biblical hope, recognizing that others may contribute better insights and, when faith becomes sight and we know as we are known, we will finally understand fully.

We know we will be rewarded, and that encourages us, but it’s not a competition with anybody else. One passage that most elaborates on reward specifically assigns rivalry and jealousy to the immature worldly mindedness of this age (1 Cor 3:3-4). (That’s not to say that Paul never employed competition when it served as a useful motivation; cf. 2 Cor 9:2.) To imagine what kind of reward will please us most, we should consider what our fully renewed perspectives will be like at the time of our future reward.

What will our perspective be like in eternity? In light of eternity, we should live not for others to praise us but for God to praise us (Rom 2:7, 29). God will openly declare that he is pleased with what we have offered him, declaring, “Well done!” (Matt 25:21, 23). (Based on Matt 25:21, 23, some suggest that this also includes the privilege of continuing to serve, by reigning. We will reign with him, but over whom exactly and in exactly what way may exceed our present knowledge. In any case, I’m sure it will be much nicer than the kind of administration we have to do in the present. Some of us professors, at least, do not enjoy committee work!)

Yet again in light of eternity, the point will not be boasting in ourselves but glorifying God. Perhaps the principle is the same when the elders in Revelation 4 cast their crowns before God’s throne to magnify their creator (Rev 4:10-11). In any case, the New Testament sometimes follows Jewish tradition in envisioning our reward as a crown. This reward sometimes refers to salvation itself—a crown of life (Rev 2:10), given to all who persevere (cf. 1 Cor 9:25).

But sometimes Paul speaks of other rewards. As noted above, Paul says that his reward (or payment, as it could be translated) is to be able to offer the gospel freely—that is, to sacrifice even more than God demands (1 Cor 9:17-18). Paul sometimes speaks of the churches he founded as his crown, and therefore exhorts them to persevere (Phil 4:1; 1 Thess 2:19). That is, his reward is that his labor for the Lord bears permanent fruit, and thus is not in vain. Again, the reward is measured not by how large our role in that fruitbearing is, but how faithful we are to our assigned role (1 Cor 3:6-8).

The results sought by the mature person of the Spirit, a person like Paul, are not our own status, which is already settled in Christ, but to contribute to Christ’s mission, to make a difference for a lost and suffering world (cf. Col 1:24). Similarly, John says that his greatest joy is that his children walk in the truth (3 John 4). He also apparently warns believers not to risk losing their reward, for which John and his colleagues have labored (2 John 8; I say “apparently” because of the textual variant here).

Is it possible that our reward and honor involves the fruit of our labors, and the reality of our service? Is it possible that a person’s reward for forgiving and not holding bitterness, or for sacrificing economically by not cheating, or, for the sake of serving the needy, going without what others possess, is that God will be glorified when all the secrets of our hearts are exposed?

Although the image is inadequate, we might envision the opening of the “books” for judgment (Rev 20:12) as something like revealing the uncensored videos of our lives. What is most important is that we are in the lamb’s book of life (Rev 20:12, 15), but everyone’s works will nevertheless be revealed. If much of our life is marked “forgiven,” we’ll give God glory for his grace; but how much more can we glorify his grace for what is marked “transformed” and “empowered” by his grace? Those works will express the fruit of his grace within us, and out of all creation’s actions these will bring God the greatest glory.

What goal can be greater than that we bring our maker and redeemer glory? Isn’t that the goal that will matter to us in our perfected state, in light of eternity? If that’s not what we value most highly right now, should it be? Like a bride eager to show her nuptial beauty to her groom (Rev 19:7-8; 21:2), like a child delighting to please loving parents, like devoted followers whose honor is found in the honor of their king, may everything we say and do and think be pleasing to our Lord.

Using Church Fathers to interpret the Bible?

Some writers have expressed the conviction that any legitimate interpretation of a passage should already appear in the church fathers, and questioned any interpretation that does not. This approach would essentially make church fathers a second canon. Because of the methods’ prominence in many of the church fathers, some writers have also sought to legitimize interpretive methods such as allegory that modern interpreters usually find suspect.

I challenge this approach here, but I do respect the church fathers and thus must begin by emphasizing what I am not saying. (Indeed, in some cases writers may have simply framed their approach too enthusiastically, and really mean what I am not critiquing.)

First, I am not denying that understanding patristic sources is often helpful for understanding Scripture. The Greek Fathers, in particular, knew the Greek language better than do the vast majority of New Testament scholars today. After all, they spoke it every day. It also goes without saying that anyone who lived in antiquity, before the industrial revolution, the internet and postmodernism, was also more familiar with much of ancient thought than are most scholars today.

Second, I recognize that few if any genuine patristic scholars express the conviction in the crass, popular way about which I have just complained. On many issues, there was no universal patristic view, and everyone who studies the church fathers recognizes that they often differed among themselves. For example, many early interpreters, such as Papias, appear to have been premillennial. By the time of Eusebius, however, premillennialists were viewed as schismatics; amillennialism prevailed by this period.

Third, I do not deny a central theological core shared by the majority of ancient churches and virtually all the church fathers, which developed naturally enough from the apostolic message preserved also in the New Testament. Most churches today allow for a common core of Christian teaching found in the creeds. (Some divisions over some later creeds, such as the division over what many called Monophysitism, may have been partly semantic.) Churches today could learn much from our ancient predecessors, including on modern questions (such as miracles, many of which the fathers claimed to have witnessed) beyond the ancient controversies often partly addressed in such creeds.

Nevertheless, there are problems with making ancient interpretations the mandatory grid for interpretations today.

First, as already noted, church fathers differed among themselves on many points.

Second, their ancient setting was not always the decisive advantage we wish it to be, since it was not the same as the settings in which the biblical books were written. For some examples: whereas the Hebrew Bible addresses various ancient Near Eastern settings and the New Testament presupposes a Jewish context (most thoroughly in the Gospels and Revelation), only a few of the church fathers (such as Jerome) knew the Jewish context well. Many, in fact, were unfortunately decisively anti-Jewish (including Chrysostom, otherwise one of my favorite commentators).

Likewise, even Greek culture changed. Stoicism was the dominant philosophy for the milieu addressed in Paul’s letters, but Platonism dominated the patristic period. Most church fathers wrote after the second sophistic, a different rhetorical situation than prevailed among the biblical writers. (Indeed, some of the best-known church fathers were more homileticians than exegetes, their homilies marked by efforts to communicate in their context and not just explaining texts’ meanings.)

Similarly, a number of the Latin Fathers knew Greek less well than even students in second-year Greek classes today; some of Augustine’s interpretations, for example, depend on misunderstandings stemming from Latin translations. For the Hebrew Bible, even most Greek Fathers depended on the standard Greek translation, which did not always correctly render the Hebrew. (Some of my friends, however, counter that God inspired the Greek translation as well as the Hebrew.)

Third, like interpreters today, church fathers often had cultural and other biases. The intellectual trends of their era influenced ancient writers no less than the trends of our era influence us. Embarrassed by myths that recounted divine immorality, Stoics and soon Alexandrian Platonists allegorized their Greek canon; their approach pervaded academic exegesis of religious texts. Thus some Alexandrian Jews allegorized Scripture, and many early Fathers, most conspicuously though not exclusively in Alexandria, followed suit. Church leaders whose writings remain extant were usually from the social class that could afford significant education (most people in antiquity could not write).

Other cultural factors similarly shaped some cuhrch fathers’ approaches. I have already mentioned anti-Semitism. The growth of sexual asceticism in this period, as well as approaches to gender that differ markedly from Scripture (and even most conservative Western Christians’ approach today), were part of the milieu. (Not surprisingly, views on priestly celibacy and to some extent on gender roles often differed between later Eastern and Western Church Fathers.) Once some Fathers used biblical texts polemically against Gnostics or Manicheans, sometimes in understandable ways in their settings, subsequent interpreters sometimes applied these texts only to these settings, as if these were the texts’ original settings.

That is to say, while we can gain valuable from ancient commentators no less than from modern ones, we all have limited cultural horizons and should not expect ancient commentators to fill a role that most of them did not claim to be filling. (They did not believe they were writing inspired Scripture; they cited texts in the canon for that purpose.) Readers today familiar with ancient Jewish thought may understand many New Testament passages better, and those familiar with ancient Middle Eastern/western Asian thought may understand many Old Testament passages better, than church fathers often did.

Churches today disagree on many things, but we share a common canon in Scripture—a canon also affirmed by the church fathers. That canon provides a common basis for dialogue, and also provides the raw material for addressing the sorts of questions that often divide us, as, again, the church fathers recognized (both when they came to consensus and when they debated with each other).

Some churches today do extend the value of tradition further than others: for example, some churches allow postbiblical tradition more weight regarding infant baptism than Anabaptists allow or concerning a Sunday sabbath than Adventists allow. We can respect one another’s traditions without always agreeing on these points, or even on the authority some give to the traditions they cite.

But virtually all of us agree that Scripture is canon in a way that other sources are not. It enshrines a minimum of agreed-upon material, much of it associated with apostles and prophets and all of it tested over time, that forms a common basis of dialogue. It is here that we, as brothers and sisters in Christ from a range of church traditions, can gather and dialogue on shared ground. May we do so as fellow believers, learning together from God’s Word.