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Our pastor preached his first of a series of sermons on 1 Peter today, and thankfully, he just launched into the material without going through a long explanation about who wrote it, what the scholars say, and what his response was. Such a conversation probably would have distracted from the text, but it brought up questions for me. What if it’s not Peter? I haven’t looked too extensively into this particular issue, but my impression is that the majority of Biblical critics think that 2 Peter, at least, is pseudepigraphic (if there is such an adjective), i.e., it’s author purports to be someone famous but is not. In my denomination, heated protests would immediately flare up at this point. At issue, ultimately, is the authority of this letter, which the label pseudepigraph ipso facto causes to crumble. But does it have to? I would love it if someone who knows would explain to me the following:
1. If the author was not Peter, what were his intentions in using the apostle’s name? Was he an impostor, pretending to be someone he was not in order to deceitfully lend lend authority to his writing? Could he have been given authorityto speak on Peter’s behalf? Was he writing in the office of Peter?
2. What did the author’s audience know? Did they think they were getting a letter from the apostle himself? Or did they know the identity of the author and had some sort of understanding about why he was writing under Peter’s name? 1 Peter seems to have a very specific audience–various congregations in Asia Minor. If the letter were written sometime after the death of Peter, then surely they were under no misapprehensions about who was writing to them. 2 Peter, on the other hand, is addressed more generally “to those who through the righteousness of our God and Savior Jesus Christ have received a faith as precious as ours” (NIV). If this letter was meant to be circulated generally, were the recipients intended to think it was from the apostle himself?
Central to all the questions above is the issue of deception, which I think is what makes everyone in my denomination so uncomfortable. But if, however, the author is writing in some sort of accepted tradition, then perhaps this wouldn’t be such a big deal. So, is there any enlightenment out there?
A lot of online hubbub about hell is going on of late, thanks to Rob Bell’s Love Wins. I have not read the book, which has sparked accusations of universalism, but I have recently started reading and enjoying Charles Williams Descent of the Dove. Below are his comments on the universalism posited by Origen:
The imaginations of the Alexandrian Fathers were courteous; their visions were humane. Origen extended that vision so far as to teach the final restitution of all things, including the devils themselves. It is impossible that some such dream should not linger in any courteous mind, but to teach it as a doctrine almost always ends in the denial of free-will. If God has character, if man has choice, an everlasting rejection of God by man must be admitted as a possibility; that is, hell must remain. The situation of the devils (if any) is not man’s business. The charity of Origen schematized then too far; he declared as a doctrine what can only remain as a desire. It was one of the reasons why he was denounced… (p. 40)
Charles Williams makes some interesting points about universalism and hell.
1. Universalism stems from a charitable disposition. Who does not want everyone to be saved? Scripture indicates that God himself prefers to show mercy to everyone, when it says “I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live” (Ezekial 33:11). Since God does in fact judge the wicked with an irreversible condemnation, the charity of universalism reveals itself to be misguided and dangerous. Misguided because our charity cannot surpass God’s; there must be something universalists are not taking into account. Dangerous because it preaches peace when there is judgment.
Questions emerge, though. Why wouldn’t God grant universal pardon, if this is indeed what he would rather do? Williams says that it is because
2. Universalism destroys free will. If man is free to choose God, then he is also free to reject him. According to Williams, God will not save a person against his will, and universalism “almost always” demands that this be so in the end. The Calvinist disputes the idea of God’s unwillingness to act against man’s will. He replies that if God waited for anyone to willingly choose him, no one would be saved. God’s Spirit must first give life and sight to the believer, and then the believer will always freely choose God. The Universalist could say the same thing in reply to Williams regarding God’s action toward the souls of unbelievers. He could illumine them and save them, too. But, I ask, if that’s what God is going to do, why wait until after death?
The third point I want to draw attention to is Williams’s view of what hell is.
3. Hell is the rejection of God. Williams and C. S. Lewis are of the same mind here. Hell is passive, they say, not active. Man chooses hell, and man is his own inflicter there. If God is life, joy, goodness,etc., then to reject him is to embrace death, misery, evil, and the rest. Rejection of God is hell. Furthermore, man willingly remains in hell, clinging to his sin and so rejecting heaven. (1)
I must confess, if this view were correct, then I would have a lot more peace about hell. I much prefer this view. I want this view to be correct. Unfortunately, I am not persuaded. I have the impression that scripture speaks more actively about hell. I have always thought of it in terms of God actively pouring out his wratch against sin. Perhaps I am wrong. What do you think?
(1) I am pretty sure this is true of Lewis, and I would bet that Williams would concur, though I am not certain.
“Surely I was sinful at birth,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me.” Psalm 51:5
My wife overheard a friend of ours say that she was so thankful to have her children on a schedule. She starts training them at two weeks old. Children need to be taught, she said, that the world does not revolve around them. I assume this means that at two weeks old, this mother does not pick up her child when she cries at night in order to train her to be on a schedule. Which for me brings up the question: if an infant’s cries are to be ignored in order to teach her that she isn’t the center of the universe, then
Just how sinful are babies at birth? More than once, my wife and I have encountered a belief from fellow Presbyterian parents that our babies’ cries from the crib are a form of selfishness, or at least can lead to selfishness if heeded too much, and it is our job, then, as Christians to oppose these seeds of sinfulness. In doing so, we are communicating that they are not the center of the universe. (I even heard from someone at work, who was recommending Baby Wise* to me, that one baby was caught on tape clearly manipulating his parents from the baby bed.) This misguided belief, I believe, stems from an overly zealous adherence to the doctrine of original sin.
So what does original sin look like in an infant? And do I even believe in it? Yes, I think that there is something in our nature that rebels against God, and I think that it is in our nature as soon as we are born and that it affects everything we do. But I do not think that original sin means that the sin inherent in our babies is full-grown. If anything, babies are less sinful than adults because they haven’t had time to develop their vices.
When an infant is crying in her crib at night, she is not thinking to herself, “I want my way now! I am the center of the universe! Come hither, Mother, and cater to my every whim!” She is thinking, “I feel afraid of being alone. I need my Mommy’s touch.” An infant has very real emotional and physical needs, and much of that involves the touch of a parent. She communicates the only way she knows how–through crying–and when she is ignored, her needs are not being met. Responding to an infant’s crying, on the other hand, is showing her that she is in a safe environment where she is loved and her needs will be met. She is not being told that she is the center of the universe, only that she is being loved.
Just who is the center of the universe anyway? I wonder if some parents are actually being hypocritical in their concern that their babies will think “everything’s about them.” If Mom or Dad strongly feels the need to make the baby’s schedule conform to his or her own, then perhaps Mom or Dad thinks the universe should revolve around them. “No, I can’t be inconvenienced by my two-week-old’s need for comfort or milk at one and three and five o’clock in the morning; she must learn to meet my schedule. After all, the world doesn’t revolve around her.” Then who does it revolve around? It revolves around Jesus, who teaches us to deny ourselves and serve others. In loving our newborns, perhaps we are really teaching them that their God in heaven loves them and will meet their needs.
Before you protest, know that I am speaking about infants here, not one and two year olds.
* Some parents believe that the Baby Wise method is “God’s way” for dealing with out babies. As Charlie Brown says, “Good grief!”
I love my church. She has a real heart for building God’s kingdom across racial and social lines. There is good teaching, encouragement, fellowship, and ministry opportunities. The gospel is going out through her.
Often, though, I find myself complaining. I know that the Church is not perfect and will alway fail in many ways, but I want to give voice to three recurring thoughts I have when I go to worship on Sundays. Maybe you can offer some insight. I wish that we:
1. observed communion every Sunday. I find myself needing and longing for the simple physical symbols of Christ’s blood and body. He is preached from our pulpit for forty minutes every Lord’s Day, but he is presented in the elements only once a month. Is there a reason why we shouldn’t be feasting every time we meet together?
2. we drank wine instead of grape juice during communion. I understand the objections, but I find them wanting. At least offer the wine. I want to feel the burn of the alcohol down my throat as I reflect on the cleansing power of Jesus’s blood.
3. our tithe was enough to cover missions. Every year our congregation is asked to commit to giving beyond the ten percent offering so that we can support missionaries at home and abroad. Every year I have a violent internal reaction. I’m a teacher, I think. Tithe is already a sacrifice. Why isn’t the tithe covering missions at my church? Shouldn’t we be trying to operate on the congregation’s ten percent? Let me see that budget! What if I want to make an offering to something else of my choosing? This is hard for me. On the one hand, I understand that the building has to be paid for, the employees paid, the bills handled. My church is not irresponsible. We are not a super spending mega-church. God is doing a lot of good through us. On the other hand, I hate that my money is not going into something that feels like it has more of a direct impact on the church. I want my money to go to the poor and to sending out missionaries. My church is not the only Presbyterian church that handles missions in this way. How does yours handle the budget?
Newsweek has an article on the resurrection written by Lisa Miller, author of Heaven: Our Enduring Fascination With the Afterlife. She cites some interesting statistics:
80% of Americans believe in heaven.
70% believe that Jesus rose from the dead. (Down 10% from 2003)
26% believe that they will have bodies in heaven.
30% of respondents to a 2003 poll believed in reincarnation; 21% of them were Christian.
As N. T. Wright says in Suprised By Hope, there seems to be a lot of present confusion about what Christianity teaches on life after death. He sums up: the New Testament and early Christians pretty unanimously attested that after death our souls are with the Lord in peace, awaiting his final return when they will be reunited with their (now glorified) bodies, which will live in the new universe.
For some reason, bodily resurrection (and according to Wright, there is no other type of resurrection) is a hard pill to swallow, as Miller’s article attests. She draws attention to how people try to get around it, by embracing a Platonic view of the soul and the body or by making the resurrection symbolic of new life. As Miller (who doesn’t believe in the resurrection herself) points out, without bodily resurrection you do not have the physical delights of heaven.
Bodily resurrection is laughed at by many, who see it for what it is–a natural impossibility. But as Jesus said to the Sadducees, “You do not know…the power of God.”
Two Sundays ago, I was at Kroger shopping for a few last minute items in preparation for the Saints game. Some friends were coming over, and I decided to grab a few beers. But alas! I had forgotten. No beer sales on Sunday.
Does anyone understand the logic behind blue laws? Why is alcohol singled out and restricted? Is it more sinful to drink on Sunday than on any other day of the week? If these laws are religiously motivated (and I know they originally were), is it not a violation of church and state to keep them? Why is the government interfering with my personal choices? And what about the rationale behind the prohibition of hard liquor and wine in some counties? Why does the grocery store in other counties have to have a separate store for selling wine and liquor?
So there you go. A lot of questions about some silly laws that I wish my neck of Mississippi would get rid of. Come on, Mississippi. Let’s repeal.
The Westminster Confession of Faith says this about the Sabbath:
[God] has particularly appointed one day in seven, for a Sabbath, to be kept holy unto him: which, from the beginning of the world to the resurrection of Christ, was the last day of the week: and, from the resurrection of Christ, was changed into the first day of the week, which, in Scripture, is called the Lord’s Day, and is to be continued to the end of the world, as the Christian Sabbath. (WCF 21.17)
What I want to examine in this post is the scriptural basis for stating that the Sabbath was moved from Saturday to Sunday. The WCF cites the following verses:
1Now about the collection for God’s people: Do what I told the Galatian churches to do. 2On the first day of every week, each one of you should set aside a sum of money in keeping with his income, saving it up, so that when I come no collections will have to be made. (1 Corinthians 16:1-2)
7On the first day of the week we came together to break bread. Paul spoke to the people and, because he intended to leave the next day, kept on talking until midnight. (Acts 20:7)
10On the Lord’s Day I was in the Spirit, and I heard behind me a loud voice like a trumpet… (Revelation 1:10)
These passages do indeed indicate that the churches in Galatia, Corinth, and Ephesus were worshipping on the first day of the week, but that is all. They say nothing about the Sabbath itself being moved. It seems strange to me that the WCF can make so bold a claim based on such scanty, non-conclusive evidence. To be sure, they have ample evidence in the Old Testament that the Sabbath is a perpetual ordinance:
16 The Israelites are to observe the Sabbath, celebrating it for the generations to come as a lasting covenant. 17 It will be a sign between me and the Israelites forever, for in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, and on the seventh day he abstained from work and rested.’ (Exodus 31:16-17)
Does the above reference apply to Christians, however? Or just to Israelites? And is “forever” to be taken literally, or simply to mean that this is an ordinance that all Israelite generations are to observe?
The references to the Old Testament are the strongest points of the WCF, in my opinion. The Sabbath is indeed a creation ordinance, and it is found in the ten commandments. However, I find it utterly unconvincing that the New Testament teaches that the Sabbath was moved to Sunday. The New Testament has a great deal to say about whether circumcision and the other ceremonial ordinances of the Law still apply, and the answer is an emphatic no. Is the Sabbath included in these Old Testament observances that no longer apply? The following passage from Colossians 2 seems to be saying that very thing:
13When you were dead in your sins and in the uncircumcision of your sinful nature, God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins, 14having canceled the written code, with its regulations, that was against us and that stood opposed to us; he took it away, nailing it to the cross. 15And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross. 16Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink, or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration or a Sabbath day. 17These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality, however, is found in Christ. (Emphases are mine.)
When the conflict over the observation of the Law came to a head, the church in Jerusalem rendered the following judgment:
28It seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us not to burden you with anything beyond the following requirements: 29You are to abstain from food sacrificed to idols, from blood, from the meat of strangled animals and from sexual immorality. You will do well to avoid these things.” (Acts 15:28-29)
Notice they did not require them to observe the Sabbath. It is true that they do not mention a lot of things from the Law (like murder, theft, etc.), which are obviously still applicable, so perhaps this is not a valid point. I would think, however, that the observance of the Sabbath would have been one of those things that were foreign to Gentile converts and that the proponents of the Law were requiring them to observe.
In conclusion, it seems far from certain that the Lord’s Day is synonomous to the Sabbath. In fact, the Colossians passage seems to indicate that its observance is optional, but I am not a theologian. Care to add your two cents?
I suddenly became aware of the condition of my soul at twelve years old. I vividly recall lying on my back during many long nights, working my way through the sinner’s prayer that I had learned from my dad, and trying to understand its various elements. What does faith mean? What does it mean for Jesus to be a savior and lord? Thankfully, God guided me through my inner turmoils to an understanding of what salvation means.
However, there were a few unhelpful folks along the way. All you preachers who compared faith to sitting on a chair and trusting that it would hold you up–you should know that you didn’t really help me at all. I was only confused about how to put that same sort of trust in Jesus. How do I get from trusting a chair to trusting Jesus? Maybe if I concentrated really hard and somehow exercised faith in Jesus.
Oh, and all you guys who describe the sinner’s prayer in terms of accepting Jesus into your heart, please stop. Stop it right now. What the heck does that even mean? How does inviting Jesus to come live in your heart equal looking to Jesus for your forgiveness? Where in the Bible do any of the apostles invite their hearers to just ask Jesus into their hearts? You are only confusing little boys and girls by using such meaningless imagery.
I shake my head now as I remember how confused I was over something so simple. Thankfully, the Bible (of all things) cleared it up. What did the tax collector say when he was weighed down by all his sin? “God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13). Seven little words, all of them easy to understand. What does Paul say? “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (Romans 10:13). Gone are the mysteries of just how we exercise this vague thing called “sitting-on-a-chair faith” when one understands that all that it means is that you are asking for mercy.
I love the movie Luther. There is a scene at the beginning where Martin Luther is struggling with his sin before the unrelenting wrath of God. His priest and mentor hands him a cross and commands him to pray, “I’m yours. Save me.” I like that. I’m yours; save me.
Walking on the beach one beautiful summer night years ago, I breathed in the scene of the crashing waves and circling stars and, with some disappointment, thought about the passage from Revelation 21:1, “And there was no more sea. ” Similarly, verse 25 reads, “there will be no night there.” Really, God? But I love the ocean, and the night sky is beautiful. If heaven doesn’t have these, then I can’t help but feel a little bit of disappointment. And while we’re on the subject, what about the new Jerusalem? Living in a huge city always seemed a lot less attractive than relaxing in a garden. I don’t really care that much about streets made of gold either.
A lot of you will be smiling at how naively literal my reading of Revelation was, but I don’t think I was alone. In college, I was crazy enough to agree to teach Revelation to a group of teenagers, and whether they got anything out of it or not, I was exposed to a very valuable resource in Paul Spilsbury’s book, The Throne, the Lamb and the Dragon: A Reader’s Guide To the Book of Revelation. Spilsbury thankfully draws his readers away from the contemporary obsession with just how the end times will unfold, pointing out that Revelation is apocalyptic literature, almost similar to a fantasy. The strange images of the book come from a long tradition of similar figures, symbols, and numbers running through the Old Testament.
The sea, for instance, is consistently a place of fear for the Israelites, who were not much of a seafaring people. It is constantly pictured as chaotic, and out of it come all sorts of evil creatures (often sybolizing various kingdoms) who are a threat to God’s people. When John describes heaven as being without the sea, he isn’t giving his readers a physical description of its geography, but is making a statement about the existence of evil there. There will be no more evil monsters from the sea; all of Israel’s/the church’s enemies will be gone. In fact, the place where they originated will be gone.
The same principle applies to the banishment of night, the creation of a city, and the composition of the streets. These are not intended to be literal details about heaven. Instead, the Lord is telling us that the dangers of night will be gone; that God’s people will be together in perfect community; and that the perfection of heaven will so outshine this world that the most valuable material we have here, gold, will be used for the basest of functions there.
Reading Revelation in this way truly unlocks its secrets. It is not a clue book to the future. Instead, it is a fantastic story to encourage us in our present state of troubles. Happy reading to you all as you jump back in the book.
This morning, as I was watching the worship service for First Presbyterian Church on television, I was irked by the Trinity Hymnal’s change in the first stanza of Fanny J. Crosby’s hymn “To God Be the Glory.”
To God be the glory, great things he hath done!
So loved he the world that he gave us his Son,
who yielded his life an atonement for sin,
and opened the lifegate that we may go in.
The original* reads, “and opened the lifegate that all may go in.” What is so objectionable with the word “all” that necessitated such a change? My own theory is that this offends the Calvinistic sensibilities of us Presbyterians. No, no, we can’t say “all” because Jesus didn’t die for all, only for the elect. No, no, all may not go in because only those whom God has first enabled to believe can go in.
It is so typically Presbyterian that we have to qualify anything with a hint of free will or universal atonement and make sure that everyone knows that really, God chose to show mercy to only certain people and gave his Son to die for only those people. Now, before you try quoting Romans 9 to me, know first that I do in fact believe in predestination and limited atonement. I just don’t think that it needs to be the prism through which we view all of the Bible. When we come across passages that talk about God loving the world or wanting everyone to be saved, I don’t think it is necessary to interpret them by saying that Jesus or Paul is referring to the fact that the gospel is not just for the Jews, but for people of every nation.
I have been thinking about this a lot lately due to my reading of 1 Timothy 2:
1I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone— 2for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. 3This is good, and pleases God our Savior, 4who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth. 5For there is one God and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, 6who gave himself as a ransom for all men—the testimony given in its proper time. 7And for this purpose I was appointed a herald and an apostle—I am telling the truth, I am not lying—and a teacher of the true faith to the Gentiles.
As soon as we Presbyterians read this passage, we point out that Paul obviously didn’t want churches to pray for every single individual. Rather, he wanted us to intercede for all types of people, as the reference to those in authority might imply, and we apply this to verse 6 by saying that Jesus gave himself for all types of people. We make the distinction between the different types of God’s will, and we point out that if God willed all men to be saved, then all men would be saved. If you want a full discussion of this passage from a Reformed perspective, then click here.
I can see how the passage could be emphasizing the fact that God wants men and women from every nation, social position, and economic standing to be saved, but I am not convinced by this interpretation. I think that it is just as legitimate that what Paul is saying here is that God wants everyone to be saved and that he gave Jesus as a ransom for everyone. I think that when Jesus says, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life,” he is opening the door for everyone who believes. I don’t think the passage is meant to be read with the qualifier, “but keep in mind that only those whom God has chosen will believe in him,” as true as that qualifier might be.
Sure, there are many scriptures that emphasize the fixed choice of God and the limited atonement of Christ, but I believe there are other passages that emphasize the free will of man and the unlimited power of the cross. To ignore either aspect of these latter type of verses is to do injustice to them and to how we see God.
At this point in my Presbyterian evolution, I accept free will and find Calvinistic explanations of how it can exist in the presence of God’s sovereignty** to be unsatisfactory. I don’t say that Calvinism is incorrect, but I do say that I don’t spend my time trying to figure out how free will and predestination can coexist. From an eternal perspective, God has chosen a flock for his mercy and given Christ for them. From a human perspective, the cross is open to every individual and we are held responsible for believing or rejecting him. Maybe God is calling us to accept both as a mystery. Maybe he wants people to know that the door is open for them, and maybe he doesn’t want us to insert predestination immediately after that.
What are your thoughts?
* As far as I can tell, this is the original. Wikipedia lists this version, and it is consistent with Crosby”s Methodist faith.
**Free will is man’s freedom to act according to his nature, but that nature will never choose God unless he changes it.
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