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Bad Consequences I once watched a Ken Burns documentary series on World War II. After half a dozen episodes, I realized I was getting more and more depressed at the death and destruction I was watching. I was tempted to stop watching altogether, but decided instead that I would simply space the episodes out more so that I could preserve my mental health. Why not permanently remove it from my watch list? Though difficult to watch, witnessing the horrors of war (even if just on a screen) can be a good thing. I believe we need to see the full consequences of war now if we are to avoid unnecessary wars in the future. Although not intended, the pictures and sounds of the suffering at Kabul airport have helped answer the question many have asked through the centuries: “How do we stop war?” Answer? “Show the catastrophic consequences.” Similarly, in Philippians 2:14–16, the apostle Paul uses the horrendous results of war as well as the happy results of peace to answer the question, How do we stop church fights? Anticipate the Blessings of Peace “Fight the good fight of the faith,” Paul commanded Timothy (1 Tim. 6:12). Paul never flinched from a “good” fight. But some fights are bad fights. Such were the fights at First Church of Philippi. The Christians were fighting over minor matters, causing unnecessary division among them. Paul does not tell them to fight the good fight of faith but to stop fighting bad fights of faithlessness. “Do all things without grumbling or disputing” (Phil. 2:14). Minimize your minor league squabbles. To motivate them, Paul connects happy consequences with a cease-fire. Notice particularly his “that you may be.” “Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world, holding fast to the word of life, so that in the day of Christ I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain” (Phil. 2:14–16). Spiritually peaceful times are spiritually productive times. To paraphrase Paul, peace between Christians stops sin between Christians, builds assurance of our sonship, protects us from worldliness, brightens our witness, tightens our grip on the word of God, and encourages hardworking pastors. Isn’t that vision of peace and productivity appealing? Let’s imagine the blessings of peace to make us long and work for a cease-fire. Christian peace is worth fighting for. And what if I don’t? Anticipate the Curses of Fighting Although Paul doesn’t spell it out explicitly, he clearly implies that if we do all things with grumbling and disputing, we’ll see the opposite effects to peace and harmony. Christians who fight unnecessary fights will be blameworthy and guilty, they will lack assurance, they will be polluted by the world, they will deepen the darkness of our already dark world, they will lose their grip of the word, and they will discourage hardworking pastors. Paul shows the catastrophic consequences of unnecessary war to make them long for necessary peace. Let’s fight the good fight of faith but surrender bad fights of faith. If we fight over nothing, we’ll lose everything. Spiritually peaceful times are spiritually productive times. This article is adapted from Philippians and Colossians: Stories of Joy and Identity by David Murra

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.—Isaiah 53:5 Understanding Context To understand this great verse, we must first look at its context in the book of Isaiah, and two things can be said. The first is that it deals with the problem at the heart of Isaiah 1 where the nation is summoned to God’s court because of its sin, which is leading to exile and judgment. Their condition is also described as dangerous; indeed, mortally ill (Isa. 1:5-6). How can the covenant God redeem and restore his people, and can even grace save them when they seem to have sinned away their blessings? As the book develops, we realize that salvation is not going to be cheap or easy but will involve exile in Babylon with healing and restoration beyond that. In particular, in Isaiah 42 we are introduced to the figure of the Servant through whom Yahweh’s purposes will be carried out. Four ‘Servant Songs’ have been identified: Isaiah 42:1–4 (some add Isa. 42:5–9); Isaiah 49:1–6; Isaiah 50:49, and the present one, Isaiah 52:13–53:12. But that should not be overemphasized, and it probably is better to see the servant theme as dominating these chapters and, indeed, introduced much earlier in Isaiah 6:8: “Here am I, send me.” So who is the Servant? First of all, Israel herself, but she failed and needed to be saved herself (see Isa. 49:8ff). Yet the true Son of Israel, the Lord Jesus Christ, is to fulfill the Servant role which Israel failed to carry out. Just as he is the true vine (John 15:1–17) which replaces the spoiled vine (see Isa. 5 and Isa. 27). Thus, Philip the evangelist has no difficulty in answering the Ethiopian’s question, ”about whom does the prophet say this?” (Acts 8:34). As we turn now to the detail of the verse, we see that these blessings are rich and varied and answer exactly to the needs which the prophet has identified. The language here is precise but also richly evocative, as is characteristic of Isaiah. “He” is emphatic—“it was he” or “he was the one”—there was no one else through whom all God’s blessings were to come. These blessings were to flow far beyond Israel and come to the whole world. “He was pierced.” His wounds were necessary for our salvation. The word “pierced” interestingly occurs in Isaiah 51:9 of God’s smiting of the dragon and thus shows that the destruction of the powers of darkness was at the heart of the cross as God not only smites the devil but smites himself and removes the curse of sin. Thus, he took the “chastisement”, or “punishment”, which our transgressions deserved. We’ll come back to that in a moment. “Crushed” is used in Lamentations 3:41 of the bitterness of exile which was the consequence of the people’s sin. “Iniquities” is our twisted nature which results in sinful attitudes and actions, once again identified in Isaiah 1:4. So peace is secured by the Servant undergoing the punishment for us. This is not only substitution but penal substitution because before we can be forgiven, God’s just anger against sin must be propitiated so that we can have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. But there is more than forgiveness; there is healing. Isaiah 1 showed that the whole nation was a wounded, dying corpse (Isa. 1:5b-6). Isaiah is going on to talk of the new creation, especially in Isaiah 65 (anticipated in such chapters as Isaiah 11, Isaiah 12, and Isaiah 35). The salvation the Servant brings is not just of souls but of bodies in a new and glorious world. Bodies like Jesus’s “glorious body” (Phil. 3:21) are the full result of the suffering of the Servant. Only the manifold grace of God can heal the manifold sicknesses of the human heart. We cannot leave this verse without thinking of its application, for Bible study is never simply a theoretical exercise. First, truths like these lead to repentance and humility. When we were helpless and, indeed, unaware of our plight, God intervened to provide a way back to himself. Second, we are in the face of a great mystery. Charles Wesley gives us words to express this: ‘Tis mystery all, the immortal dies, Who can explore his strange design? In vain, the firstborn seraph tries To sound the depths of love divine! These lead to praise and worship, for, ultimately, theology must end in doxology. Only the manifold grace of God can heal the manifold sicknesses of the human heart. Bob Fyall is a contributor to the ESV Expository Commentary: Isaiah–Ezekiel (Volume 6).

1. Covenants are the backbone of the biblical story. Peter Gentry and Stephen Wellum have argued that the covenants advance the storyline of the Bible in their book Kingdom through Covenant: A Biblical-Theological Understanding of the Covenants, and they are on target. If one understands how the covenants function in the Bible, one will have a good grasp of how the Bible fits together. If we see the big picture in Scripture, we will do a better job of interpreting the details, and the covenant plays a fundamental role in seeing the big picture. 2. Covenant can be defined as follows: a covenant is a chosen relationship in which two parties make binding promises to each other. A covenant should be distinguished from a contract because it is a personal relationship which people voluntarily enter. The definition of covenant here is rather broad, but that is because there are many different kinds of covenants in Scripture. Marriage is a good illustration of a covenant, for a man and woman choose to enter into a relationship with one another and make promises to one another. Not all covenants were alike in the ancient world. In some covenants a person with more authority made a covenant with those having less authority and power. Such was the case when a king made a relationship with his subjects. 3. Some definitions of covenant are too narrow and don’t fit every covenant in Scripture. Some scholars have said that covenants always presuppose an already existing relationship. The Gibeonite story shows that this is not the case, for Israel didn’t have any relations with the Gibeonites before entering into a covenant with them (Josh. 9:3–27). Also, some say that all covenants are enacted with blood, but this isn’t true of the marriage covenant or the covenant between Jonathan and David (1 Sam. 18:1–4). Nor is there evidence of a sacrifice at the inauguration of the Lord’s covenant with David (2 Samuel 7). We need to distinguish, when talking about covenants, about what is often true and what is always the case. 4. Virtually all the covenants have both conditional and unconditional elements. Since covenant partners obligate themselves to one another with promises and call curses upon themselves if they disobey, we are not surprised to learn that virtually all covenants have both conditional and unconditional elements. There are clearly conditions in the covenant with Israel made at Sinai. Some scholars say that the covenant with Abraham and David are unconditional, but when we look at the text carefully, conditions are clearly present (e.g., Gen. 17; 2 Sam. 7:14). What needs to be investigated is how the conditional and unconditional elements relate to one another. The principle enunciated here, however, also has exceptions. The covenant with Noah, for instance, seems to be unconditional. 5. There are good reasons to believe there is a covenant at creation. Some scholars doubt whether there was a covenant with Adam, but we have good reasons for seeing a covenant at creation. Even though the word covenant is lacking, the elements of a covenant relationship are present. The word covenant doesn’t need to be present for a covenant to exist since the term covenant isn’t found in the inauguration of the Davidic covenant. The claim that all covenants are redemptive isn’t borne out by the use of the term in the Scriptures. The elements of a covenant were present at creation, for blessing was promised for obedience and cursing for disobedience. 6. The covenant with Noah isn’t redemptive, but it is necessary for God’s redemptive plan to be carried out. The covenant with Noah is a covenant of preservation, signifying a new beginning for human beings and the continuance of life on earth until the time of the end. In many ways it repristinates the creation covenant. Despite the depth of human wickedness, human beings are still made in God’s image, and God continues to bless them as they are fruitful and multiply on the earth. The flood testifies to what human beings deserve on account of wickedness, and it is a type of the final judgment to come (Matt. 24:36–41; 2 Pet. 2:5). The bow in the clouds, the sign of the covenant, testifies that God has withdrawn his weapons of war, that he will preserve the world until redemption is accomplished. 7. The covenant with Abraham plays a central role in the biblical storyline. God promised Abraham offspring, land, and universal blessing. The promise to Abraham finds its culmination in Jesus Christ as the true son of Abraham (Gal. 3:16). All those who belong to Jesus Christ by faith are children of Abraham. The promise of land was fulfilled when Israel possessed Canaan under the leadership of Joshua and Solomon, yet Israel lost the land and went into exile because of sin. The promise of land was realized proleptically in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, for his resurrection represents the arrival of the new creation, and it will find its final fulfillment in the new creation—the new temple over which God and the Lamb will reign (Rev. 21:1–22:5). The promise of universal blessing is fully and finally fulfilled in Jesus Christ through whom people from every tongue, tribe, people, and nation are included in Abraham’s family. 8. The covenant with Israel, the covenant at Mount Sinai, is a temporary covenant. The covenant with Israel was gracious, for the Lord freed his people from Egyptian slavery. The covenant was also patterned after suzerain-vassal treaties in the ancient Near East. Blessings were promised for obedience and curses for disobedience. Israel failed to abide by the covenant stipulations, summarized in the Ten Commandments and as a result was sent into exile. The prophets declared in covenant lawsuits, which detailed Israel’s violation of the covenant, that judgment was coming. The covenant with Israel had a built-in obsolescence and focused on Israel as a nation; it did not transform the heart of those who heard the covenant demands. 9. The covenant with David fulfills previous covenants. The covenant with David stands in continuity with previous covenants. The rule over the world originally given to Adam would be realized through a Davidic king. The promises of offspring, land, and blessing given to Abraham would be secured through the Davidic ruler. In a similar way the blessings promised in the Mosaic covenant would come to fruition under faithful Davidic kings, but if they strayed from the Lord, then the curses would come. Despite the conditional elements, the covenant with David was ultimately unconditional. God guaranteed a Davidic king on the throne but the covenant promise would only be fulfilled by an obedient king, and the New Testament claims that this person is Jesus of Nazareth. As David’s Son, he now reigns at God’s right hand and will come again to consummate his reign. 10. The new covenant is the climax of all of God’s covenants. The new covenant represents the culmination of God’s saving work among his people. God regenerates his people by his Spirit and renews their hearts so that they obey him. The basis for such renewal is the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ, for by his atoning death and resurrection,Him complete forgiveness of sins is achieved. Hence, a new and bold access to God that wasn’t available in the old covenant is obtained. The covenant with Israel has passed away, and now the promise is fulfilled in the restored Israel, which consists of both Jews and Gentiles. All the promises made to Abraham and David are fulfilled in the new covenant. The promise of universal blessing is fully and finally fulfilled in Jesus Christ. by: Thomas R. Schreiner

Thomas Doubts, Keeps the Faith The patriarch of the Judeo-Christian faith had trouble at times telling the truth, yet nobody calls him Lying Abraham. Israel’s great lawgiver once beat a man to death, but he isn’t remembered as Murdering Moses. The message of the Bible is that we’re not defined by our worst moments. The gospel says that, in Christ, God expunges our failures. Grace, not sin, gets the last word. Aren’t you thankful for such good news? Why then do we persist in speaking of Doubting Thomas? Thomas was one of Jesus’ most loyal followers. The Gospels portray him as reflective, not talkative. On the three occasions where his words are recorded, it’s clear Thomas thought long and hard before speaking. Once, in the wake of a friend’s death, Thomas broke the silence, saying that he was willing to die for Jesus if it came to that (see John 11:16). On the night before the crucifixion, when Jesus talked cryptically about going away, Thomas let it be known he wasn’t keen on the idea of being separated from Jesus (see John 14:5). So when everything came crashing down the following day, Thomas was devastated. They all were, of course, but Thomas seemed to take it especially hard. While the rest huddled together in fear, Thomas was not with them. On Resurrection Sunday, when Jesus appeared to his disciples, Thomas was nowhere to be found. He emerged from hiding to find his buddies beside themselves with joy. “We have seen the Lord!” they exclaimed. Thomas wasn’t buying it: “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe” (John 20:25). This may sound like hard-heartedness, but it wasn’t. We know this because a few days later when Jesus graciously appeared to Thomas, he fell to his knees and confessed, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28). A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:26-28) Stubborn unbelief says, “I’m happy where I am, and no amount of evidence will change my mind.” Honest doubt says, “I want to believe but I’m struggling. I just need a little help.” Doubting Thomas? One week of weakness doesn’t tell the whole story of his—or anyone else’s—life. Tradition claims Thomas sailed to India to preach the gospel, eventually dying for the risen One who’d resurrected his flagging faith. Sounds more like Trusting Thomas. For Reflection Are you a person who tends to doubt before you believe? If your doubt leads to questions that lead to answers, it has served a good purpose. Let your doubt deepen your faith as you search and seek the answers you need. Drawn from the NIV Lucado Encouraging Word Bible.

Likewise, husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life, so that your prayers may not be hindered. —1 Peter 3:7 Weakness in Today’s World We live at a time that does not really know how to deal with weakness. This is a dog-eat-dog world. What time do we really have for those who are weak? Because we think only the fittest survive, some people try to bury their own weakness, hiding or denying their limitations or frailties. We see this in dysfunctional marriages. Other people try to defend the weak by denying reality; they paper over the facts and assure us that women and men are the same in all their strengths. We see this in our culture’s gender wars. Some among us hide or deny weakness. Others take advantage of it. Sadly, we’ve all seen men who intimidate, humiliate, neglect, control, and criticize their wives because of what they see as weakness. Peter calls husbands in particular to honor their wives in their weakness. So let us comment on what that weakness might be, how a husband should treat his wife, and why. What Is Meant by “Weaker Vessel”? Scholars offer more than one option of what this weakness in 1 Peter 3:7 could be. One perspective studies the word that Peter uses when he refers to “the woman,” which is plausibly translated “the one who is feminine.” According to this perspective, the feminine one is a weaker vessel because she shows a wider range of emotions and consistently loses in arm-wrestling contests. A husband is not to take advantage of her feminine characteristics, not least when it comes to his businesslike approach to problems or his physical power. Alternatively, Peter may have in mind a perception of weakness arising from the wife’s position as one who is not the higher authority in the home. She is weaker in that he is the head and she is not. Of course, whatever the definition of weakness we might use, we are not denying that women have many different important strengths where men have profound weaknesses. Nor should we pass over the reality that women are called to great strength of character in the previous verses. And to speak of a woman’s comparative strength is to say nothing about her physical endurance. To choose only the most obvious example, women endure pain in childbirth that makes a man shudder even to contemplate. Giving birth is still the gold standard for human toughness as well as human love. And yet let us own Scripture’s message here: a wife has weaknesses unique to who she is, and eventually even the thickest husband will catch on to this. When he does, he is to prize her for everything that she is and not despise her for anything she is not. Whatever the precise definition of weakness, a husband’s responsibility is clear. Husbands are to prize, to treasure, to value our wives, not just because they are people but because they are women. And there is a public aspect to honor, for it is very important how she is presented and discussed before others. A friend of ours took this fact about homelife into his workplace and made it clear to his male colleagues that there would be no negative comments about their wives. He insisted that they honor their spouses or not talk about them at all. A woman is a wonderful gift to a man. This is obvious for those with eyes to see, and yet a husband can sometimes find it hard to value his wife as a woman if she slows him down, processes problems differently, or offers distinct perspectives. So what are men tempted to do? They are tempted to push, to put down, to ignore. They are tempted to dishonor their wives, taking advantage of the ways in which they are weaker vessels, or simply different. Consider how often men are critical because they think they could have done something better than their wives. The truth, Chad says, is that we men are often wrong, and we’d botch the job entirely. But even if we are right, we’re behaving wrongly. Elsewhere men are called to love their wives. Here men are told to actually honor them. Peter very deliberately shuts off men’s usual escape routes when he calls them to honorable living. How Does a Husband Honor His Wife? So how is a husband to deal with any perceived weakness in a wife? The first thing that Peter calls men to do is to live with their wives “with understanding” or “in an understanding way” (1 Pet. 3:7). This could mean that he is to live with an understanding of all that God calls him to be and do; in this context, he would be called to understand, among other things, what God requires of him with respect to his wife. Alternatively, Peter could mean that a husband is to live with understanding of his wife in particular; husbands are to live with real consideration, a considerate life that is characterized by knowledge. Either way, for the purpose of better honoring her and making her duties easier, a husband is to learn his wife’s strengths and weaknesses, her likes and dislikes, her fears and insecurities. His privileged information about his God-given responsibilities and his knowledge of his wife is not to be used against her but for her. Although husbands sometimes forget, living with a woman is not like rooming with a man. It takes minimal effort for men to understand each other. Television plus food offers a fairly predictable formula for male happiness. Experience tells most of us that it is possible to live with a roommate for a long time and acquire very little wisdom about relationships, in part because buddies can be replaced in ways that wives cannot. Living with a wife requires real thoughtfulness, some of which comes only from on-the-job training. For those who have tried to understand their wives, many can testify that they found the learning curve steep, almost vertical, and devoid of plateaus. Learning the other sex is complicated, and it takes honest work. It doesn’t help that both men and women think that their needs are fairly obvious and that their communications are usually clear. But the main challenge is not only with the lines of communication in a marriage, but with the kind of content, or lack thereof, being communicated. A subset of the times that Chad sins against Emily, he has a sense that there is much more to the problem than he even realizes. On some of these occasions he has had to say, “Emily, I’m sure that this should be obvious, and I’m sorry that I have to ask, but I am so lost that I’m not really sure what I should say here. Tell me what I should say, not so that I can avoid thinking for myself, but so that I can learn to understand you and what I should be seeing in this situation.” Thankfully, she is graciously committed to making his job as a husband easier. She sees that this kind of exchange is a win in marriage, much better than trading defensive comments or offensive evaluations—something we also sometimes do. Peter calls husbands to live with their wives in an understanding way. This is closely tied to his second how comment in verse 7: he needs to live with her in such a way that he is showing her honor. A man honors his wife by respecting her, listening to her, maintaining her authority before others in the home, protecting her from harm, upholding her good name, supporting her financially, and placing a proper trust and confidence in her. A man honors his wife as he prizes her counsel and seeks her correction. Perhaps there are better ways to communicate the idea of honor, but the real surprise is that husbands are called to honor their partners at all. Peter earlier summed up the duty of Christian citizens by telling them to honor the emperor. Here he sums up the duty of Christian husbands by telling them to honor their wives. Now there is surely a difference in the way in which a man honors the emperor and the way in which a man honors his wife. But there is a sense in which a man is to roll out the red carpet for the woman in his life. If a man’s home is his castle, his wife should be its queen. Peter’s word choice, honor, can hardly have been more elevated—which is a good thing to remember after what he said in verses 1–6. If anyone complains that in her calling as a wife, she is reduced to a servant by verses 1–6, we also need to complain that she is elevated to a princess by verse 7. Scripture is not privileging one party in the marriage over another. Chad did not always get this emphasis on honor, and it was only in writing the final draft of Gospel-Shaped Marriage that he admitted to Emily that he went to two different friends to complain about her, once in the first year of their marriage and again five years later. These men proved true friends to both of us. They said no. Willing to embarrass Chad by shutting him down—firmly—they explained that they were not going to listen to him vent about Emily, and they gave reasons why. One of these brothers was married, the other not, but both of them understood more clearly than Chad in that moment that it was his calling to uphold and honor his wonderful, even if imperfect, wife. Husbands are to prize, to treasure, to value our wives, not just because they are people but because they are women. This article is adapted from Gospel-Shaped Marriage: Grace for Sinners to Love Like Saints by Chad Van Dixhoorn and Emily Van Dixhoorn.

Then Joshua son of Nun secretly sent two spies from Shittim. “Go, look over the land,” he said, “especially Jericho.” So they went and entered the house of a prostitute named Rahab and stayed there. – Joshua 2:1 Rahab, like the rest of Jericho’s inhabitants, was deeply frightened. As a pagan prostitute in a doomed city, her prospects seemed bleak. Across the Jordan, on the plains of Moab, an invasion force had gathered. Its numbers were beyond counting, but the menacing army wasn’t the only cause for fear. Word had spread that the Israelite God had roundly defeated the gods and army of Egypt. If the greatest empire in the world couldn’t stop Israel, what hope remained for a Canaanite city like Jericho? Rahab’s Story Rahab inhabited a house in the city wall from which vantage point she prospered in her trade. There were always men hungry for pleasure. Most lived in the city, but the road that passed by Jericho also ensured a steady stream of weary travelers seeking what Rahab could provide. Two strangers, hoping to escape notice, appeared at her door. What was more common than travelers seeking out a harlot? But the two were spotted and identified as Israelite spies. Rahab saw an opportunity, hid the Israelites and then lied to the king’s men, sending them out of the city in pointless pursuit of these enemies of Jericho (Joshua 2:2 – 7). Why not? What did she owe the king or anyone else in Jericho? The Israelites would soon overwhelm the city. Moreover, something new was growing in her heart — an unaccustomed stirring called hope. Her hope was based on what she’d learned about the invisible God of Israel. His name — “I Am” — was unlike any other god. The gods she knew were little deities who were supposed to control weather, crops or fertility. She could bargain with them, just as she was accustomed to haggling with a man over the price of her services. This “I Am” wasn’t in the business of wrangling over terms, so Rahab negotiated instead with the spies in an effort to ensure her family’s survival (Joshua 2:8 – 16). But in doing so, Rahab gained more than safety: She received a new life. The God of Israel enfolded her into the community of his people. She left a life of shame to ultimately become a wife and a mother. Most amazing, from Rahab would come the line of David and his greatest descendant: the Messiah of Israel and the Savior of humankind – Jesus (see Matthew 1:5 – 6). Rahab hoped for mere survival but gained salvation on the basis of her faith All of this began with Rahab’s faith in a God she had come to know secondhand through nearly unbelievable stories of his great works (Joshua 2:8 – 11). She placed her hope in a God greater than those fashioned by human beings. This is the same God who can deliver us. He’s great enough to dry up the “seas” to make our way safe, destroy all the obstacles that threaten to destroy us, and demonstrate that he’s greater than heaven and earth (Joshua 2:10-11). How did Rahab tap into God’s might? She – Formed an accurate understanding of him (Joshua 2:8 – 11) Trusted those who had experienced God’s power and entered his service (Joshua 2:12 – 14) Served him by helping the spies escape (Joshua 2:15 – 16), and Followed the instructions of those who had already learned God’s ways (Joshua 2:17 – 21). Rahab’s faith and service not only saved her but it gave her a home among God’s people (Joshua 6:22 – 23). The symbol of salvation for Rahab and her family was the scarlet cord in her window (Joshua 2:18,21). Today we can cling to another “scarlet cord” — the blood of Jesus, which cleanses us and makes us God’s prized possessions. We’ve been redeemed from the empty way of life that once enslaved us by the precious blood of Christ (1 Peter 1:18 – 19). Drawn from an article in the NIV Celebrate Recovery Study Bible.

Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). When Jesus meets his disciples after the resurrection, he continually says to them, “Peace” (John 20:19,21,26). Under these circumstances, it is obvious that the term “peace” is extraordinarily full of meaning. What is this peace Jesus gives us? In order to understand Jesus’ words, we must reflect on the many facets of the crucial Hebrew term shalom, which lies behind the English word “peace.” Shalom is one of the keywords and images for salvation in the Bible. The Hebrew word refers most commonly to a person being uninjured and safe, whole and sound. In the New Testament, shalom is revealed as the reconciliation of all things to God through the work of Christ: “God was pleased . . . through [Christ] to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through [Christ’s] blood, shed on the cross” (Colossians 1:19–20). Shalom experienced is multidimensional, complete well-being — physical, psychological, social, and spiritual; it flows from all of one’s relationships being put right — with God, with(in) oneself, and with others. Shalom with God Most fundamentally, shalom means reconciliation with God. God can give us peace with himself or remove it (Psalm 85:8; Jeremiah 16:5). Because Phinehas turned away God’s wrath on sin, he and his family are given a “covenant of [shalom]” with God (Numbers 25:12). One of the offerings under the Mosaic covenant is the shelamim offering — the peace, or fellowship, offering — the only one of the Levitical sacrifices in which the offerer receives back some of the meal to eat. Sin disrupts shalom. When anything heals the rupture and closes the gap between us and God, there should be a celebration, a joyful meal in God’s presence. Shalom with Others Shalom also means peace with others, peace between parties. It means the end of hostilities and war (Deuteronomy 20:12; Judges 21:13). The wise woman of Abel Beth Maakah maintained her city’s shalom, its peacefulness, by averting a siege and war (2 Samuel 20:14–22). But shalom does not mean only reconciliation between warring factions or nations (1 Kings 5:12). It also refers to socially just relationships between individuals and classes. Jeremiah insists that unless there is an end to oppression, greed, and violence in social relationships, there can be no shalom, however much the false prophets say the word (Jeremiah 6:1–9,14; compare Jeremiah 8:11). Shalom with (in) Oneself Shalom consists of not only outward peacefulness — peace between parties — but also peace within. Those who trust in the Lord have inner security; therefore, they can sleep well (Psalm 4:8). God gives “perfect peace” (or shalom-shalom) — i.e., profound psychological and emotional peace – to those who steadfastly set their minds on him (Isaiah 26:3).The result of righteousness before God is “peace; its effect will be quietness and confidence forever” (Isaiah 32:17). The Price of Shalom: Jesus Shalom Prophesied Shalom becomes an especially prominent theme in the prophetic literature. The prophets explain the invasions and exile the loss of shalom — as a curse on Israel for breaking the covenant and as punishment for their disobedience (Isaiah 48:18; Jeremiah 14:13–16; Micah 3:4-5, 9–12). But they also point into the future to a coming time of complete shalom, not only for Israel but also for the whole world (Isaiah 11:1–9; Isaiah 45:7). Only God can create shalom (Isaiah 45:7), and this gift will come through the work of the Messiah, the Prince of shalom (Isaiah 9:6–7). Therefore, shalom is perhaps the most basic characteristic of the future kingdom of God, a time when the Lord himself comes to heal all that is wrong with the world. When the angels tell the shepherds about the birth of Christ, they call him the one who will, at last, bring peace on earth (Luke 2:14). Jesus is the Prince of shalom who will bring in God’s kingdom of peace that the prophets foretold (Romans 14:17; 1 Corinthians 14:33). The gospel of Jesus is “the gospel of peace” (Ephesians 6:15; compare Acts 10:36; Ephesians 2:17). Shalom Accomplished Jesus, first of all, reconciles us to God. He is the ultimate Phinehas who turns away the wrath of God and brings his family into a covenant of peace. But he does so by taking on himself the curse of sin so that all who are united to him by faith receive his blessing of peace (Galatians 3:10–13). “The wicked are like the tossing sea, which cannot rest . . . ‘There is no peace . . . for the wicked’ ” (Isaiah 57:20–21). But on the cross, God the Father treats Jesus as the wicked deserve to be treated (2 Corinthians 5:21). Jesus cries out as he loses his fellowship with the Father and experiences unimaginable inner agony (Matthew 27:46). He experiences infinite pain so that we can know endless peace (John 14:27). Shalom Experienced God is reconciling all things to himself through Christ (Colossians 1:20), and although he has not yet put everything right (Romans 8:19–23), those who believe the gospel enter into and experience this reconciliation. This peace is, first of all, peace with God through justification by faith (Romans 5:1–2). There was a barrier between God and humanity, but Jesus paid the debt, and now there is peace. This peace cannot increase or decrease. Though in ourselves we are actually “ungodly,” in Christ, we are justified and accepted (Romans 4:5). Jesus also brings us the peace of God — peace within. The peace of God garrisons our hearts against anxiety, difficulties, and sorrows (Philippians 4:4–7). It is possible to have a peace so deep that we can be content in any circumstance, even in times of great difficulty (Philippians 4:12–13). The peace of Christ is so closely related to joy (John 15:11; Romans 15:13) that we might say that joy is God’s peace and reconciliation lived out. The God of peace sanctifies us, growing us into Christ-like character and maturity (1 Thessalonians 5:23; compare Galatians 5:22). Finally, Jesus brings us peace with other human beings. Our peace with and from God gives us the resources to maintain unity and love with others through continual forgiveness and patience (Colossians 3:13–15). Christ is our peace, and by his death on the cross, he removes even the high racial and cultural barriers that divide us (Ephesians 2:11–22). Drawn from the article Shalom by Timothy Keller in the NIV Biblical Theology Bible.

Matthew 21:18–22 : 18In the morning, as he was returning to the city, he became hungry. 19And seeing a fig tree by the wayside, he went to it and found nothing on it but only leaves. And he said to it, “May no fruit ever come from you again!” And the fig tree withered at once. 20When the disciples saw it, they marveled, saying, “How did the fig tree wither at once?” 21And Jesus answered them, “Truly, I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ it will happen. 22And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.” Jesus as Lord and Judge Passover is days away, and pilgrims stream into Jerusalem. Many have traveled from Galilee; they spontaneously hail Jesus as prophet and Son of David as they enter Jerusalem with him. After entering, Jesus visits the temple. As so often, Mark offers details that Matthew omits. Mark 11:11 notes how Jesus “looked around at everything” and then left the city with the Twelve, “as it was already late.” Whether “looking around” signifies a quick look or a thorough examination, Mark gives Jesus an evening to meditate before he purges the temple. If Mark suggests contemplation, Matthew describes direct action: Jesus enters, drives out the merchants, overturns their tables, and then explains himself: they have made God’s house into a “den of robbers” or, it could be translated, a “cave of insurrectionists” (Matt. 21:12–13). Explanations are in order. First, currency exchange is not immoral. Travelers would seek to purchase animals for their sacrifices and feasts, and they had to convert their currency into the temple’s. The problem is not commerce per se but commerce in the temple precincts, as Jesus explains by quoting Isaiah and Jeremiah: “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer,’ but you make it a den of robbers.” “Prayer” is synecdoche for public worship: the prayers, songs, teachings, and offerings of the temple. It is possible that the merchants overcharge, but Jesus drives out buyers and sellers, so malfeasance cannot be the sole issue. The problem is corruption of the temple’s purpose: the noise of commerce and animals prevents the silence that is the context for prayer, worship, and instruction. If rabbinic comments are accurate, Caiaphas the high priest had recently moved the sale of sacrificial animals from the valley near Jerusalem into the temple court reserved for Gentiles. This might account for the additional phrase in Mark 11:17: the temple is to be a “house of prayer for all the nations.” The context of Jesus’ OT citations is essential. Isaiah 56 declares that no one— neither eunuch nor Gentile—should say, “The Lord will surely separate me from his people” (Isa. 56:3). No, to those who hold to the covenant, the Lord says, “I will . . . make them joyful in my house of prayer; . . . for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isa. 56:7). Whatever the logic of the temple commerce, it makes worship difficult for Gentiles and neglects Isaiah’s word. By citing Isaiah, Jesus implicitly claims that his action brings the messianic blessing predicted by the prophet. Further, Jesus’ “disruptive action” is necessary if the temple is to regain “its God-ordained purpose.” While the temple has ceased to be a house of prayer for the nations, it has become a “den of robbers” (Matt. 21:13). Scholars doubt that the problem is corruption among the money-changers, since (again) Jesus opposes both selling and buying, and there is no record of complaints against them. The merchants, with the priests’ approval, are certainly depriving Gentiles of their right to worship God. The phrase “den of robbers,” from Jeremiah 7, is instructive too. In context, the Lord excoriates Israel: Will you steal, murder, commit adultery, . . . and go after other gods . . . then come and stand before me in this house . . . and say, ‘We are delivered!’— only to go on doing all these abominations? Has this house . . . become a den of robbers in your eyes?” (Jer. 7:9–11) In Jeremiah’s day, people sinned then shouted, “the temple of the Lord,” treating it as a talisman, as if it guaranteed God’s protection and favor (Jer. 7:4–7). Jeremiah and Jesus compare the Israelites to brigands who rob, kill, and follow idols, then retreat to the temple as if it were a safe cave or hideout. This wholly reverses the temple’s purpose. Beyond that, lēstēs (“robber”) normally means insurrectionist, so Matthew’s phrase spēlaion lēstōn could sensibly be rendered “cave of rebels” or “cave of insurrectionists.” Tragically, the temple’s putative guardians rebel against God most of all. By excluding Gentiles from the temple, they show that for them the temple is a symbol of Israel more than it is a place of worship. The temple has become their “nationalist stronghold,” a haunt for nationalistic rebels. Luke understands the issue similarly, which is clear from his addition to the scene. In Luke 19:42–44, Jesus laments that Jerusalem does not know “the things that make for peace” and he predicts a crushing defeat at Rome’s hands. Jesus foresees that Israel’s nationalism, manifest here, will lead it to rebel against Rome and suffer devastation forty years later. Because they learn nothing from Jeremiah or Jesus, Jewish fighters will later choose the temple as their fortress, apparently hoping it will protect them. But that fantasy perverts the temple, and God will not honor it. By driving out the merchants and toppling their tables, Jesus asserts himself as the temple’s Lord and Judge. His denunciation is also prophetic, and the call to restore the temple to its proper role is priestly as well. Jesus’ action reopens the temple to the blind and lame, and he heals them (Matt. 21:14). Leviticus appears to bar blind and lame priests from offering certain sacrifices. Some Jews want to bar the crippled from the temple altogether, but Jesus restores them to it. By driving out the merchants and welcoming the broken, Jesus expels those whom the authorities permit and permits those whom certain authorities expel. The priests, possibly thunderstruck, turn on the children in the temple area who are shouting praise to Jesus. They ask, “Do you hear what these are saying?” (Matt. 21:15–16a). But Jesus defends the children: “Have you never read, ‘Out of the mouth of infants and nursing babies you have prepared praise’?” (Matt. 21:16b). This is a citation of Psalm 8, which begins, “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! . . . Out of the mouth of babies and infants, you have established strength because of your foes” (Ps. 8:1–2). When Jesus asks, “Have you never read . . . ?” he means, “Have you never considered this correctly?” God ordains children to praise him. Since Jesus is Son of God and Son of Man, it is right for children to praise him. Israel’s Fruitfulness The next morning, Jesus returns to Jerusalem. He is hungry, sees a fig tree in leaf, inspects it, finds nothing but leaves, and curses it, saying, “May no fruit ever come from you again!” Surprisingly, the tree withers immediately (Matt. 21:18–19). The OT has many miracles of judgment, but outside of this instance, Jesus’ miracles bring healing and grace. The cursing of the fig tree is symbolic. Matthew assumes his Jewish readers know, as Mark 11:13 points out, that “it was not the season for figs.” Fig trees produce leaves at the time of the Passover, and small fruits do appear, which will ripen later. These fruits are unripe but marginally edible. The leaves promise fruit on the tree, but its barrenness makes it an object lesson. The prophets use the fig as a symbol of Israel in its fruitlessness. In Micah 7:1–2 the prophet laments that he came to glean fruit from vineyard and tree but found no grapes and “no first-ripe fig that my soul desires.” Micah explains the metaphor immediately: “The godly has perished from the earth,” and the land is full of violence, not the justice he craves. As he curses the fig tree, Jesus functions like a prophet who presents symbolic acts of judgment as calls to repentance (cf. Jer. 19:1–11). When Jesus judges the fig tree, he foretells judgment not on all Israelites but on those who, like the luxuriantly leafy but fruitless tree, appear to be alive but are barren (Matt. 13:22). Jesus has just inspected the temple and found it wanting. The spectacle of worship—the priests, the music, the sacrifices, the gleaming buildings—is grand but fruitless. Its leaders bar Gentiles from worship and plot the murder of their king. Truly, it has become a cave of rebels against God, their show of religion notwithstanding. When the tree withers, the disciples ask, “How did the fig tree wither at once?” (Matt. 21:20). We might expect them to ask why, not how, but the Twelve often attend to the wrong element of Jesus’ messages (cf. Matt. 19:27; 20:21). He detects an interest in attaining similar powers and answers them in a way that redirects their focus. He begins emphatically, “Truly, I say to you,” then promotes trust in God both positively, “if you have faith,” and negatively, “and do not doubt.” Faith, a common topic in the NT, is classically a trust in God that receives salvation, but here it is an enabling power. By faith a disciple can “say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea,’ [and] it will happen” (Matt. 21:21). Contrary to appearances, Jesus does not shift abruptly from judgment on Jerusalem to the power of prayer. The phrase “this mountain” appears twice outside this text and its parallel in Mark, and it refers to a particular mountain each time. As Jesus speaks, both the Mount of Olives and the Temple Mount are visible. If he is referring to the Temple Mount, he is saying that faith can move the metaphorical mountain of vain religion. Prayer is powerful: “Whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.” The phrase “if you have faith” prevents abuse; evil prayers have no power. By driving out the merchants and toppling their tables, Jesus asserts himself as the temple’s Lord and Judge. This article is by Dan Doriani and is adapted from the ESV Expository Commentary: Matthew–Luke (Volume 8).

True Knowledge I walked in the sunshine with a scholar who had effectively forfeited his prospects of academic advancement by clashing with church dignitaries over the gospel of grace. “But it doesn’t matter,” he said at length, “for I’ve known God and they haven’t.” The remark was a mere parenthesis, a passing comment on something I had said, but it has stuck with me and set me thinking. Not many of us, I think, would ever naturally say that we have known God. The words imply a definiteness and matter-of-factness of experience to which most of us, if we are honest, have to admit that we are still strangers. We claim, perhaps, to have a testimony, and can rattle off our conversion story with the best of them; we say that we know God—this, after all, is what evangelicals are expected to say; but would it occur to us to say, without hesitation and with reference to particular events in our personal history, that we have known God? I doubt it, for I suspect that with most of us experience of God has never become so vivid as that. Nor, I think, would many of us ever naturally say that in the light of the knowledge of God that we have come to enjoy, past disappointments and present heartbreaks, as the world counts heartbreaks, don’t matter. For the plain fact is that to most of us they do matter. We live with them as our “crosses” (so we call them). Constantly we find ourselves slipping into bitterness and apathy and gloom as we reflect on them, which we frequently do. The attitude we show to the world is a sort of dried-up stoicism, miles removed from the “joy unspeakable and full of glory” that Peter took for granted that his readers were displaying (1 Pet. 1:8 KJV). “Poor souls,” our friends say of us, “how they’ve suffered.” And that is just what we feel about ourselves! But these private mock heroics have no place at all in the minds of those who really know God. They never brood on might-have-beens; they never think of the things they have missed, only of what they have gained. “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ,” wrote Paul. “What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him. . . . I want to know Christ” (Phil. 3:7–10). When Paul says he counts the things he lost as “rubbish,” or “dung” (KJV), he means not merely that he does not think of them as having any value, but also that he does not live with them constantly in his mind. What normal person spends his time nostalgically dreaming of manure? Yet this, in effect, is what many of us do. It shows how little we have in the way of true knowledge of God. Knowing versus Knowing About We need frankly to face ourselves at this point. We are, perhaps, orthodox evangelicals. We can state the gospel clearly; we can smell unsound doctrine a mile away. If asked how one may know God, we can at once produce the right formula: that we come to know God through Jesus Christ the Lord, in virtue of his cross and mediation, on the basis of his word of promise, by the power of the Holy Spirit, via a personal exercise of faith. Yet the gaiety, goodness, and unfetteredness of spirit that are the marks of those who have known God are rare among us—rarer, perhaps, than they are in some other Christian circles, where, by comparison, evangelical truth is less clearly and fully known. Here, too, it would seem that the last may prove to be first and the first last. A little knowledge of God is worth more than a great deal of knowledge about him. To focus this point further, let me say two things: 1. One can know a great deal about God without much knowledge of him. I am sure that many of us have never really grasped this. We find in ourselves a deep interest in theology (which is, of course, a most fascinating and intriguing subject—in the seventeenth century, it was every gentleman’s hobby). We read books of theological exposition and apologetics. We dip into Christian history and study the Christian creeds. We learn to find our way around in the Scriptures. Others appreciate our interest in these things, and we find ourselves asked to give our opinion in public on this or that Christian question, to lead study groups, to give papers, to write articles, and generally to accept responsibility, informal if not formal, for acting as teachers and arbiters of orthodoxy in our own Christian circles. Our friends tell us how much they value our contribution, and this spurs us to further explorations of God’s truth so that we may be equal to the demands made upon us. All very fine—yet interest in theology and knowledge about God and the capacity to think clearly and talk well on Christian themes is not at all the same thing as knowing him. We may know as much about God as John Calvin knew—indeed, if we study his works diligently, sooner or later we shall—and yet all the time (unlike Calvin, may I say) we may hardly know God at all. 2. One can know a great deal about godliness without much knowledge of God. It depends on the sermons one hears, the books one reads, and the company one keeps. In this analytical and technological age, there is no shortage of books on the church book tables, or sermons from the pulpits, on how to pray, how to witness, how to read our Bibles, how to tithe our money, how to be a young Christian, how to be an old Christian, how to be a happy Christian, how to get consecrated, how to lead people to Christ, how to receive the baptism of the Holy Spirit (or, in some cases, how to avoid receiving it), how to speak with tongues (or how to explain away Pentecostal manifestations), and generally how to go through all the various motions that the teachers in question associate with being a Christian believer. Nor is there any shortage of biographies delineating the experiences of Christians in past days for our interested perusal. Whatever else may be said about this state of affairs, it certainly makes it possible to learn a great deal secondhand about the practice of Christianity. Moreover, if one has been given a good bump of common sense, one may frequently be able to use this learning to help floundering Christians of less stable temperament to regain their footing and develop a sense of proportion about their troubles, and in this way one may gain for oneself a reputation for being quite a pastor. Yet one can have all this and hardly know God at all. We come back, then, to where we started. The question is not whether we are good at theology or “balanced” (horrible, self-conscious word!) in our approach to problems of Christian living. The question is, can we say, simply, honestly, not because we feel that as evangelicals we ought to, but because it is a plain matter of fact, that we have known God, and that because we have known God the unpleasantness we have had, or the pleasantness we have not had, through being Christians does not matter to us? If we really knew God, this is what we would be saying, and if we are not saying it, that is a sign that we need to face ourselves more sharply with the difference between knowing God and merely knowing about him. A little knowledge of God is worth more than a great deal of knowledge about him. This article is adapted from Knowing God by J. I. Packer.

The Authority of Scripture The Pharisees were marked by their high view of Scripture. Certainly, when we compare them to the Sadducees—the other main Jewish sect featured in the Gospels—the Pharisees strike us as the conservatives, as the Sadducees look like the liberals. “For the Sadducees say that there is no resurrection, nor angel, nor spirit, but the Pharisees acknowledge them all” (Acts 23:8). Yet it was not as if the Pharisees simply upheld Scripture while the Sadducees turned away. Where the Sadducees took away from Scripture, the Pharisees added to it. For the Pharisees were, most emphatically, a people of tradition. They held that on Mount Sinai, God had given Moses more than the Law: he had given a body of traditions that had subsequently been passed down through the generations orally. These traditions, preserved in written form in the Mishnah (and supplemented by its commentary, the Gemara) make up the Talmud. This was treated by the Pharisees as having an authority effectively equal to Scripture. Thus, the same Rabbinic Targums that spoke of God busying himself by day with the study of the Scriptures described him as busying himself by night with that of the Mishnah. We should therefore not be surprised when we read of how “Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, ‘Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders?’” (Matt. 15:1–2). While, then, the Pharisees affirmed the trustworthiness of Scripture, they did not in practice trust it as the supremely authoritative word of God. Thus, Jesus could answer them, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?” (Matt. 15:3). Presumably, the true answer could only be that they had to modify the commandment of God by tradition to make possible their attempt to justify themselves. But more on that later. For all their zealous reverence of Scripture, they accorded it no governing authority. In practice, their traditions—and their traditions’ interpretation of Scripture—ruled. The Pharisees are not alone in this. The English Reformer Hugh Latimer once described the eclipsing of God’s word by human traditions as a great aim of Satan’s work throughout the history of the church. Picturing the devil as the most diligent preacher in all England, he explained, “His office is to hinder religion, to maintain superstition, to set up idolatry. . . . Where the devil is resident, and hath his plough going, there away with books, and up with candles . . . up with man’s traditions and his laws, down with God’s traditions and his most holy word.” Sometimes it can be reasonably obvious when human opinions trump Scripture. It is evident when a preacher merely uses the Bible as a jumping-off point for a diatribe on his own views or cultural observations. Or when the authority of his ideas rest upon only his own wisdom or some private revelation he has received. Or when the loud “amens” of his congregation seem to steer the direction of his sermon. Then, perhaps, we get the uncomfortable sense that Scripture is being used for some other agenda but is not definitive. Yet rarely is that obvious if we agree with him. For the real power of traditions lies in their ability to create cultures, and while the quirks of other cultures seem blindingly—often amusingly— obvious to us, our own culture strikes us as plain common sense. A “culture” seems like something only other people have. Our traditions and assumptions are part of the very air we breathe, their very familiarity attesting to their rightness. And being so palpably, unquestionably right, our culture becomes laden with theological weight. Those who are not like us are immediately suspect. It is easy for evangelical tribes to feel a self-satisfied glow of innocence here. We, after all, are plain, Bible Christians. Of course others fall down here, we think, but suspicion of extrabiblical traditions is something that runs deep in our blood. Is not our wariness of tradition precisely something that sets us apart as evangelicals? Many are mistrustful of theology for just this reason: they want a “purely” biblical message. Yet evangelicalism’s (unevangelical) “no creed but the Bible” biblicism itself creates traditions. We can seek a “straight,” “natural” reading of the text, and quite deliberately read the Bible away from the “corrupting” voices of theologians and commentators, and yet be blissfully unaware of how compromised our interpretation of Scripture is. Thus unchallenged, our fallen, theologically immature, culturally shaped reading acquires all the authority of Scripture itself. Deaf to the cloud of witnesses in the church down the centuries, the pastor’s eccentric interpretation becomes unassailably authoritative. He becomes ever more powerful because of his evident anointing, while his church becomes ever more untethered to anything but his proof-texted views. In such biblicism, the interpreter—not Scripture—becomes sovereign. The pages of church history are littered with heretics who boasted of their devotion to Scripture yet failed to spot how their biblical language concealed unbiblical thinking. Take the fourth-century Arians and the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Socinians as examples. Reading their arguments is like being hit by an avalanche of Bible verses, giving the impression that Scripture drove their reasoning. Look more carefully, though, and it becomes clear that Scripture was used only to support conclusions reached by what, to them, seemed “reasonable.” The Socinians recommended as a principle of exegesis that we reject “every interpretation which is repugnant to right reason, or involves a contradiction.” That principle meant that one God cannot be three persons. On the basis of this “right reason”—not Scripture—they rejected belief in the Trinity. They used Scripture to make their case, but it was “right reason”—not Scripture—that got them there. In just the same way, evangelicals can conceal their rationalism, their experientialism, or their pragmatism with biblical language and so fool themselves that they are being truly biblical. What matters most to them can be what they feel, what they have been brought up with, or what seems reasonable. Scripture can be used only to confirm what they have come to believe on other grounds. How Traditions Help Tribes By definition, the Pharisees were not like other men. Their very name seems to be derived from a word meaning “the separated ones.” They were a “party” or “sect” (Acts 15:5; 26:5), intensely proud of the legacy and traditions that set them apart. They had Abraham as their father (John 8:33, 39, 53) and barricades of tradition to preserve and proclaim their distinct identity. It was their traditions that quarantined them and made them the faction they were. Tribalism is the inevitable consequence of allowing tradition— or anything else—parity with the word of God. As soon as we adopt any rallying banner other than the gospel, we sacrifice evangelical unity. Such elevation of tradition rebuilds the old dividing walls of tribal hostility broken down at the cross (Eph. 2:14–16), promoting blocs of uniformity instead of unity. Each silo subtly develops its own particular slang, peculiar dialect, shibboleths, and buzzwords. Its members learn the “in” patter and dress code, talking and walking in specific ways that ape the inner ring of their party leaders. They become, as C. S. Lewis put it, like the country bumpkin, full of “the cocksure conviction of an ignorant adolescent that his own village (which is the only one he knows) is the hub of the universe and does everything in the Only Right Way.”5 Out of sheer ignorance as much as anything else, the inhabitants of other villages seem increasingly alien and wrong. Out of sight and understanding, they grow horns. The process then becomes self-reinforcing as each tribe fails to see how it is conflating the gospel with its own tradition. With their appeal limited to people of the same culture, they find they cannot connect with the other side of town, let alone another continent. And on it goes: the more comfortable the uniformity, the more familiar the culture, the more Scripture is forced to take a back seat. Customs, personalities and peccadilloes can rule. No longer supreme and so no longer challenging, the Bible can be commandeered as proof of the rightness of the culture. The more that happens, the more human leaders will shape and control their fiefdoms while others scramble to achieve their acceptance. Tribalization, therefore, has an oddly distorting effect, leading subscribers to swallow camels while straining at cultural gnats. The village mentality makes mediocre leaders appear Herculean in ability and significance. Small ponds acquire big fish. Thus, swollen in significance, it is hard for them not to exert an undue influence and for their every view to assume an overexalted authority. They can even eclipse Christ in the eyes of acolytes who fear them as much as—or even more than—God. But therein is a recipe for insecurity, for when defined by leadership or culture more than Christ, tribes need their boundary markers more than ever. They become entrenched and necessarily opposed to other groups who must be wrong. Hope and Glory At the very end of John Bunyan’s *Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian looks back from the Celestial City and sees a man called Ignorance approaching the gate. Ignorance began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him; but he was asked by the men that looked over the top of the gate, ‘Whence came you, and what would you have?’ He answered, ‘I have eat and drank in the presence of the King, and he has taught in our streets.’ Then they asked him for his certificate, that they might go in and show it to the King; so he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Since there was nothing to be found “in his bosom,” two angels are commanded to “go out and take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away.” With this, Christian learns the parting lesson of the book: “I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven.” It is a sobering warning for all who think of themselves as Bible-loving Christians. For Scripture is like the gate of heaven to us, opening divine glories. Yet we can knock at the text every day and remain hollow hearted, with nothing in our bosom. Evangelicals can conceal their rationalism, their experientialism, or their pragmatism with biblical language and so fool themselves that they are being truly biblical. This article is adapted from Evangelical Pharisees: The Gospel as Cure for the Church’s Hypocrisy by Michael Reeves.

For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline. – 2 Timothy 1:7 Paul’s words to Timothy are equally God’s words to you. He has given each one of us a spirit of “power, love and self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7). Therefore, we never should respond to circumstances or people in fear because we have the power of God living within us — the very power that dispels all fear and anxiety. 1. Ask for God’s help. When fear strikes, immediately ask for God’s help. Tap into his power and allow him to encourage your heart. Remember when Peter tried to walk on the water to Jesus, but his fear overcame him (Matthew 14:30)? When he found himself in trouble and fear — sinking in the sea — he had the right response. He asked for God’s help. “Lord, save me!” This is your best first response any time you feel fearful. 2. Ask the Lord to fill your heart with a sense of his abiding love. Love is a powerful antidote to fear. God’s love has the ability to eliminate it. I remember the first time I preached in my home church. I was young and had a “fear attack.” I felt the people would expect more from me than a group of strangers might expect. So what helped me? I read the words of the Lord to Joshua in Joshua 1:5 – 9, and then I turned my focus to the people of my home church. I felt overwhelmed by how much I loved them and how they had loved me through the years. By the time I stood in the pulpit, the fear had completely drained out of me. John tells us, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear” (1 John 4:18). Ask your heavenly Father to impart to you more of Christ’s love and to take away any torment you feel. As you do, fear will lose its grip on you. 3. Ask God to give you a sound mind, filled with and operating according to God’s Word. The basis for a sound mind is the Word of God. The more you know of God’s promises, and the more you live according to his commandments, the greater your strength to withstand fear. Use Scripture to speak directly to the source of your fear, just as Jesus quoted Scripture to Satan during his time of temptation in the wilderness (Luke 4:1 – 13). When you feel gripped by fear, turn your gaze to Jesus, redirect your heart to his love, speak to your fear from the Word of God, and then respond boldly to the situation. The Lord’s desire is for you to “be strong and very courageous” today (Joshua 1:7). By Charles F. Stanley. Article from the NIV Charles F. Stanley Life Principles Bible.

What We Don’t Know There are numerous important questions to ponder regarding the Bible’s teachings about the end times. Before considering three of these questions, it’s worth sharing why I feel just fine about not knowing every single thing regarding how God will work at the end of time. The reason I feel good about my very incomplete knowledge is that I know God doesn’t mean for me to know everything about how he works. I know that because of the seven thunders of Revelation 10. Many people have heard of the seven seals, seven trumpets, and seven bowls. Not so many have heard of the seven thunders. There’s a reason for that. Here’s Revelation 10:3–4: When [the mighty angel] shouted, the voices of the seven thunders spoke. And when the seven thunders spoke, I was about to write; but I heard a voice from heaven say, “Seal up what the seven thunders have said and do not write it down.” It’s significant that John heard the thunders and knew what they said. He was about to write it down, but the voice from heaven stopped him. That demonstrates that God does not reveal everything to us. He doesn’t mean for us to know all his plans. In fact, we know only the outskirts of his ways (Job 26:14). Why? Among other reasons, because our incomplete knowledge keeps us humble, and that’s a very good thing. We can seek to understand as much as possible about how God will work in the end times, but let’s stay humble and freely admit our ignorance. In that spirit, here are three questions (and my attempted answers) regarding the end times. Q: Will there be a rapture? A: Yes, it seems there will be, according to 1 Thessalonians 4:16–17: the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. The Greek word translated caught up refers to being grabbed or seized by force. The Latin Vulgate translation of that term gave us our word “rapture.” There will indeed be a rapture—but perhaps of a different kind than what some Christians have envisioned. It’s worth examining Paul’s words more closely. He says those who are dead at the time of Christ’s return will be resurrected, then the living will be caught up with them to meet the Lord in the air (the verb will be caught up is passive, and God is clearly the one doing the catching up). How does that description fit with what Paul says a little earlier in his letter, that God will bring with [Jesus] those who have fallen asleep (1 Thess. 4:14)? It seems that the dead and the living will be caught up to meet Jesus (1 Thess. 4:16–17) and will then immediately return to earth with Jesus (1 Thess. 4:14). In other words, the place where we will always be with Jesus (1 Thess. 4:17) is not up in the air, as disembodied spirits, but in a new heavens and new earth, in renewed, resurrected bodies. This understanding fits well with the important word in 1 Thess. 4:17 that is translated to meet (will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air). It’s a term used to refer to what happened when citizens went out of a city to meet a visiting dignitary and then escort him back into the city (it’s used in this sense in Acts 28:14–16). The rapture in 1 Thessalonians 4:17 is quite different from the common dispensationalist teaching that the church will be raptured up into heaven at the beginning of the tribulation. The rapture of which Paul writes will occur at the last day will be a public catching up of believers and will be immediately followed by a descent to a new earth, where all God’s people will live forever with him. Q: When do the seven seals of Revelation 6–8 occur? A: There are a number of views regarding the nature and timing of the seals. I’ll mention two here. The first is the view of many dispensationalists. On this understanding, the opening of the seven seals in Revelation 6:1–8:1 refers to a future time before the final judgment known as the great tribulation. The church is raptured off the earth into heaven before that great tribulation so that it doesn’t undergo the tribulation. There’s a famous nighttime airplane scene in the Left Behind movie. Everyone is sleeping, when suddenly Buck Williams (played by Kirk Cameron) is awakened by an elderly woman complaining that her husband has disappeared. When Buck looks at the man’s seat, he sees his shirt, coat, trousers, and glasses lying on it; the man has been raptured out of his clothes. As Buck wanders through the plane, he sees other sets of empty clothes. All the Christians have been raptured; they’re now in heaven and only non-Christians are left behind. The tribulation is about to begin. The rapture of the church fits the understanding of many dispensationalists that God has two separate agendas in history: one for the Jewish people and another for the church. The church is raptured to heaven before the great tribulation, while the Jewish people are still on earth during the great tribulation. I think on balance a more persuasive understanding of Revelation 6:1–8:1 is the one held by amillennial interpreters. On this understanding, the first four seals in Revelation 6:1–8:1 refer to tribulations throughout this present age, from the first coming of Jesus until his return. These tribulations will climax at the very end of time, but the first four seals occur throughout this entire age, whenever we experience war, famine, civil unrest, and violent death. The fifth seal moves from earth up into heaven, where we see martyred Christians enjoying heavenly rest. The time of this seal is still this present age, looking forward to the end, as the martyrs call out to God, How long . . . The sixth seal brings us back to earth and leaps forward to the very end of time, to the final judgment. This is indicated by the fact that it picks up on Old Testament language for the Day of the Lord, and God’s enemies say to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us and hide us from the face of him who is seated on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb, for the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand? (Rev. 6:16–17). The silence that engulfs the opening of the final, seventh seal in Revelation 8:1 indicates the imminent arrival of the final judgment. Significantly, in the later trumpets and bowls of Revelation, we see the same chronological sweep from this present age up to the end of time; this pattern of recapitulation is very important for understanding the book of Revelation. Q: Who are the 144,000 who are sealed in Revelation 7? A: A view commonly held by dispensationalists is that the events of Revelation 7 follow chronologically after the events of the great tribulation in chapter 6. So, the 144,000 mentioned in Revelation 7 are Jewish people who come to faith in Jesus during the final tribulation. This Jewish remnant is protected from martyrdom by God’s seal during the tribulation period. God has protected the church by rapturing them up to heaven; he protects Jewish converts from physical harm by sealing them. On this view, we see the Jewish people on earth in Revelation 7:1–8, while, in Revelation 7:9–17, we’re shown the church in heaven (verse 14 says they are the ones coming out of the great tribulation, and some dispensationalists believe that phrase refers to the rapture). I find the amillennial understanding of the identity of the 144,000 more compelling. According to Revelation 7:4–8, the 144,000 are Jews. Even more specifically, according to Revelation 14:1–5, the 144,000 are Jewish males, and more specifically yet, Jewish male virgins. In order to understand this description, it’s helpful to know that Israel’s army was composed of men (Deuteronomy 20), that a frequent reason for taking a census in the Old Testament period was to count an army (Numbers 1:2–3), and that when Israel’s army marched out to war, the soldiers were to refrain from sex (1 Samuel 21:4–5). The pay-off of knowing this background is that we can see that Revelation 7 and 14 are depicting a holy army prepared to fight a holy war. Who exactly is this holy army, and who or what do they conquer? One key that helps us enormously here is Revelation 5:5–6, where John hears about an Old Testament expectation (the Messiah, called the Lion of the tribe of Judah), and then turns to see a New Testament fulfillment (Jesus, represented as a lamb who was slain). The fulfillment is surprising and unexpected: conquering comes through suffering and death. What we see with the 144,000 in Revelation 7 is closely parallel. In 7:4, John hears something: “the number of the sealed, 144,000, sealed from every tribe of the sons of Israel . . . ” In other words, he hears an Old Testament expectation; God’s people described as a holy army fighting God’s holy war, associated with the tribe of Judah (remember the Lion of the tribe of Judah in chapter 5). In 7:9, John looks (“After this I looked. . . ”), and he sees a surprising New Testament fulfillment of this Old Testament expectation: namely, not just ethnic Jews, but rather “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb . . . ” The fulfillment is a multinational people. In other words, the 144,000 in verses 4–8 is the same group as the great multitude in verses 9–17. The same group is pictured in two different ways, just as the Lion and the Lamb in chapter 5 are not two separate beings—both are Jesus, pictured in two different ways (Old Testament expectation and New Testament fulfillment). The Lion of the tribe of Judah conquered by dying on a cross. And God’s holy army in 7:4–8 conquers by being persecuted and killed while holding fast to Christ. Verse 14 says they have come out of the great tribulation. It’s by being killed that they’ve come to heaven (like the martyrs in the fifth seal). This indicates that the victory of God’s people is their faithful suffering unto death, just as Jesus’s victory at the cross was his faithful suffering unto death. Like many of the numbers in Revelation, 144,000 is symbolic, representing fullness and completeness. This completeness is also emphasized in verse 9, where John refers to a “great multitude that no one could number, from every nation . . . ” In 7:4–8 we see God’s people in this age, fighting God’s holy war by suffering for Jesus. In 7:9–17 we see God’s people in the new creation, finally and fully at rest, beyond the spiritual battles of this world. God doesn’t mean for me to know everything about how he works. Stephen Witmer is the author of Revelation: A 12-Week Study.