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Review of Gorman’s Apostle of the Crucified Lord

Michael J. Gorman, Apostle of the Crucified Lord: A Theological Introduction to Paul and His Letters, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004. 618pp. $39.00, paper.

Published in The Southwestern Journal of Theology 46.3 (2004), 97-99

Michael Gorman teaches New Testament at St. Mary’s Seminary and University in Baltimore, Maryland, where he is also dean of the Ecumenical Institute of Theology. He has produced a textbook that is a cross between a Pauline theology and an introduction to Paul’s life and letters. The format of the book is attractive and user-friendly, and Gorman’s writing style is both engaging and fresh. The text is accompanied by relevant maps of Paul’s journeys and the cities in which he ministered, and each chapter is concluded with questions for reflection and an annotated bibliography pointing students to related reading for further study. Of special note also are some helpful photographs in the book, such as the one of an ancient letter written on papyrus, which is rolled and sealed for delivery (80).

The first six chapters introduce the reader to Paul’s context and ideas, followed by a chapter on each of Paul’s thirteen letters. The first chapter on the Greco-Roman context of Paul’s mission includes informative summaries of Paul’s Jewish contemporaries and the issues generated by the “new perspective.” Especially helpful is Gorman’s discussion of the light shed on Paul’s context by the Roman Imperial Cult. This first chapter is followed by chapters on Paul’s mission, his letters and what they were intended to do, his gospel, his spirituality, and his theology. The chapters on the thirteen letters situate the documents in Paul’s life, introduce major themes, and then briefly summarize the message of the letter’s major sections.

Gorman makes productive use of recent scholarship on Paul, providing helpful overviews of major topics. For this reason, this book will be useful to scholars who are not Pauline specialists but nevertheless have occasion to teach on Paul in introductory surveys of the New Testament.

Several aspects of the volume, however, make it unfit for use in evangelical classrooms. This includes an acceptance of pseudonymous authorship of Paul’s first letter to Timothy and his letter to Titus. Gorman’s discussion of these issues does not deal with the early church’s rejection of pseudonymous writings, glosses over the ethical problem of a Christian author deliberately deceiving his intended readers, and concludes that whoever wrote these documents was so good at imitating Paul that he fooled everyone for 1800 years, and yet he was such a bumblehead that modern scholars easily detect his hand.

Gorman also tends to invite disagreement with the Bible on the gender issue. Clear and compelling explanations of the disputed texts—1 Corinthians 11 and 14, 1 Timothy 2—are available in such volumes as Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood and Evangelical Feminism and Biblical Truth. When Gorman comes to 1 Corinthians 11, Paul’s words are labelled “confusing remarks” (265), and 1 Corinthians 14:33–35 is “another confusing text” (276). The interpretation of these texts is difficult, to be sure, but they can be coherently interpreted if we are willing to let Paul speak. The issue is exacerbated in the discussion of 1 Timothy, where it is tacitly assumed that the “patriarchy many find in the text” needs to be blunted, if it is really there at all (560, cf. 551). The fourth question for reflection at the end of this chapter then treats the rejection of the Bible’s teaching as a live option when students are invited to consider, “Which aspects of 1 Timothy’s ministerial charge to Timothy should be (a) appropriated, (b) modified, or (c) rejected today?” (570). Those for whom the Bible is authoritative do not reject its teaching, nor should we present the outright rejection of what the Bible says as a way to deal with its statements that do not conform to modern Western notions of right and wrong. We seek to be transformed by the renewing of our minds through the Bible, not to be liberated from it that we might be conformed to this world (Rom 12:2).

For evangelical classrooms, a better introduction to Paul’s letters may be found in John Polhill’s Paul and His Letters, and the best Pauline theology remains Thomas R. Schreiner’s Paul: Apostle of God’s Glory in Christ.

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Literary Horse Puckey

My friend Jason Duesing sent me a link to an insightful essay by Kathryn Schulz, “Why I despise The Great Gatsby,” where she points out Fitzgerald’s lack of humor in Gatsby, lack of empathy for his characters, and lack of real moral power. It’s a great essay, and it reminded me of a crisp scene in Leif Enger’s So Brave, Young, and Handsome. A little context, then the scene in question:

The main character of Enger’s novel, Monte Becket, is a writer whose first novel (Martin Bligh) has achieved unexpected success, and now Monte is helping an old and never-caught bandit make his way to the woman he left, to whom he wants to apologize.

They get separated when Monte gets apprehended by an off-duty detective, Royal Davies, who invites him to spend the night in his home so he can take him to the station for questioning next day. At the Davies home Monte meets the wife of the detective, and we get this fine passage:

As for Mrs. Davies, she kept me under the reptile eye while listening to her husband’s presentation of contemporary Chicago, of his sister’s health, and of the bothersome train ride home. He was a bright observer, and I soon saw he had to be, for Mrs. Davies asked him a chain of incisive questions which built one upon the other until she had in her mind a satisfactory portrait of her husband’s absence. You’d think it might abrade, to be probed that way by your spouse, but Royal Davies seemed to shine and grow younger under her spotlight, and he leaned toward her, his language and whole manner becoming honed and precise.

She then turned to me and said, ‘Very well, Mr. Author, it is your turn.’

‘I am at your service, Mrs. Davies.’

‘You are a man of letters,’ said she. ‘Tell me, what do you think of Boyd Singleton Ample?’ [whose name will later be abbreviated 'B. S. Ample'!]

I said, ‘I think he is very good, yes, a very important writer.’

There are any number of reasons to tell this sort of lie. As a well-treated guest, I didn’t wish to seem critical of her taste. Worse, I didn’t wish to appear jealous–every one of Mr. Ample’s books sold much more briskly than Martin Bligh had.

‘Go on,’ she said, nodding.

‘Well, his insights on human miseries are salient,’ I ventured. It didn’t seem like a weak limb to climb out on–it was a common opinion among people who were serious about Literature and the phase it was in, whether of ascent or decline, and What It All Meant for Society. In his most recent novel he had sallied out with a number of momentous ideas, namely that war is difficult, and that poverty is difficult too; in fact, that much of human experience is marked by difficulty. I don’t remember who is at fault.

‘Horse puckey,’ said Mrs. Davies, an excellent glint in her gaze.

‘Pardon?’

‘He is boresome. Humorless as a mole. Tell me, are you familiar with The Pestilence of Man?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ I was mortified, because in my politic reply I’d set myself to defend a novel I hadn’t even finished. I tried! But it’s a long book.

‘And did you laugh much, reading it?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid not, Mrs. Davies.’

‘Call me Celia, please. Did you get much good from it?’ she persisted.

‘Why, I think so–Celia.’

‘And what particular good would that be?’ said my rigorous hostess.

‘Well, a broader understanding of human darkness, I suppose,’ I said, seizing a trite phrase from a review I’d seen somewhere. Oh, I was on thin and melting ice now!

Celia Davies said, ‘At this minute many people are reading books by that man; I will tell you how to identify them. They own a furtive brow, men and women alike; they bend their slight shoulders, they tug their lips and fret. Mr. Becket, do you find yourself improved for your new understanding of human darkness?’

I adjusted my own shoulders. I had a new admiration for Royal Davies, that he could be a match for her. ‘Few things have managed to improve me, Celia,’ I admitted, ‘although a day or two of your company might.’

Then she laughed, which was the youngest thing about her; Royal took her hand with an expression of delight, and I was released from that table.

I’m thankful for books like So Brave, Young, and Handsome, books that show the beauty of marriage and the courage to laugh at dour high-mindedness, books that are funny and that make for the improvement of those who read them.

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Remus Lupin, Werewolf

I love the Harry Potter stories. My first trip through them was an audio excursion guided by the talented Jim Dale. Enthusiasm for the books swept me right into reading them aloud to my children, and we’re almost finished with the series. I am thrilled that J. K. Rowling’s next book, The Casual Vacancy, is appearing any moment now. I can’t wait to read it. Sorry for my effusive delight over these books—what I’m trying to do is tell you about one of the characters in the Harry Potter stories, Remus Lupin.

There’s a play on his name, as lupus is the Latin word for “wolf,” and Lupin is a werewolf. Werewolves are not exactly pleasant, and the surprising thing is that Lupin is one of the good guys. This is one of the ways that Rowling has given us stories that are true to life.

In the Potter stories, if you get bitten by a werewolf, the bite infects you and can make you a werewolf. Remus Lupin’s father had offended an awful villain of a werewolf, and that werewolf sought revenge by biting Remus when he was a child.

Remus did not want to be a werewolf. Abused by an adult, he became a danger to himself and others. He was cut off from society. He suffered terribly, and he had no control over his affliction. At the full moon, whether he wanted to be transformed into a werewolf or not, he lost control of himself and became something dangerous.

Have you ever met anyone who has experienced something like this? Or has this been your own experience? Something tragic, awful, happened during childhood, and its painful repercussions seem all but inescapable?

J. K. Rowling tells a story in which there’s hope for people who have been abused as children, abused in ways that threaten to make them monsters as adults. Rowling’s story helps us to sympathize with people we might not otherwise understand, people we might otherwise fear. Lupin tells his personal history in book 3, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. I saw Rowling interviewed, and she commented on how much Lupin means to her.

Remus relates how it seemed impossible that he would get to study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, until a headmaster came to the school who believed in giving people second chances, believed in trusting people, believed in the power of love. Albus Dumbledore allowed Remus Lupin into Hogwarts, and he devised a way for Lupin to be protected—from himself and others—when his monthly transformation took place. Dumbledore thought carefully about the situation, about Lupin’s affliction and needs, and he took steps to make sure that Lupin would not destroy others or himself when he became a werewolf.

Lupin goes on to relate how as the years of his schooling passed, his “three great friends” did something for him that made his painful transformations “not only bearable, but the best times” of his life.

What could his friends have done for him?

First, when his friends learned his secret, they didn’t reject him. From there, his friends began to explore ways to care for him, ways to enter into his experience, ways to be in his life in his moment of need, to walk with him through the trial.

Lupin’s friends worked for three years to perfect the complex magic necessary to transform themselves into animals that would not be hurt by a werewolf. They did that so they could keep Lupin company, so they could protect him from himself, so they could keep him from hurting others, and they did it because they were his friends.

Lupin says, “Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them.”

Do you know children who have been sexually abused? Did that happen to you as a child? Do you know children who have been exposed to pornography? Were you?

Consider what Rowling teaches through this powerful story. There is hope for people who have experienced things they wish had not happened, and there are steps that can and should be taken in such cases.

Notice how Dumbledore let Lupin into school, but he acknowledged that because of what had happened to Lupin, he had to take measures to restrain Lupin when he became a werewolf, measures that would protect Lupin himself and other children.

What boundaries are necessary because of what has happened in your life, or in the life of someone you love?

If you find yourself experiencing a transformation at the full moon—that is to say, if there things that happen, or that you see or hear, that cause you to experience impulses that are beyond your rationality, beyond your control—are you acknowledging your need for help in those situations?

Do you find yourself risking everything that matters most in the world to pursue some desire that most of the time you don’t want to gratify at all? Dumbledore built a place where Lupin could go to be safe at the full moon. What kind of place do you need?

Notice also that Lupin had friends who loved him—friends who knew the awful reality of his condition, friends who knew the worst about him and loved him anyway, friends who thought carefully and persistently about how to help him, friends who went to extraordinary lengths to stand by their brother who was in need.

Oh to have such friends. Oh to be such a friend.

We all need second chances. We all need boundaries. And we need one another.

There’s something better than having Albus Dumbledore as your headmaster and great classmates like Lupin’s three great friends: belonging to Jesus and being part of his church. Rowling has given us a picture of the human condition in an unlikely place. She has shown us that sometimes even the good guys turn into werewolves. The good guys, however, know what their problems are, take steps to address those problems, and they know they can’t make it alone.

If you haven’t read the Harry Potter stories, trust me, Rowling’s narrative is much more powerful than this little reflection on it. Consider this my encouragement for you to read what I think will prove to be the publishing event of the century (get them here). These books are the third most read books in the world.

More importantly, if you’re not a member of a church where Jesus shepherds his people through the preaching of the word, it’s better than Hogwarts. If you don’t have friends who will listen to you and think about your plight and be creative about how to help you, the church is better than magicians who can turn themselves into animals. And the great redemption Christ has accomplished is the substance of which the Potter stories are but a shadow.

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This post originally appeared at Christianity.com

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My Take on Dumbledore’s Orientation

Christianity.com has posted my thoughts on “What Rowling Said about Dumbledore.” Here’s the postscript:

I haven’t read Jerram Barrs’ book yet, but I just saw on Justin Taylor’s blog that Barrs has an appendix in his forthcoming Echoes of Eden entitled “The Outing of Dumbledore.” I’ve been thinking about what Rowling said about Dumbledore since it was first brought to my attention, and seeing that Barrs has an appendix on it spurred me to finish this post. I don’t know what Barrs will say, but this is my take on Rowling’s declaration that in her conception of Dumbledore he felt same-sex attractions.

The whole thing is here.

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Brothers, Bitzer Was a Banker: Welcoming a new edition of Brothers, We Are Not Professionals

I’m glad that B&H has brought an updated and expanded edition of John Piper’s Brothers, We Are Not Professionals, not least because of the chapter entitled, “Brothers, Bitzer Was a Banker.”

You can read an earlier version of this chapter here.

May the Lord make us people of the book. And may ministers and those training for ministry be inspired to give themselves to the biblical languages.

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Amen: Credo Interview with Schreiner on Biblical Theology

The first few questions and answers from the Credo Interview with Dr. Thomas R. Schreiner on his new book, The King in His Beauty:

There has been something of a “renaissance” in the publication of “whole bible” theologies in recent years. Where does your contribution stand in relation to these other works?

First of all I think we should celebrate the publication of whole bible theologies. What an encouraging sign that Christians in our age want to understand the whole counsel of God. Evangelicals, in particular, play a leading role here, for we believe that the scriptures cohere, that there is a unified story instead of sound and fury signifying nothing.
Second, I won’t mention all the other works that have been written, but I can say I have read and profited from them immensely. Generally speaking my work is less technical and hence more accessible than some of the works out there. I wanted to write a book that a busy pastor, college student, or interested layperson could grasp and understand. Whether I have succeeded or not is for others to say.
Third, I wanted my book to focus especially on scripture itself instead of what other scholars say. I wanted to show inductively by quoting or referring to scripture that the theology I presented was in accord with what the biblical writers were saying. This is not to say that I didn’t learn a great deal from many other scholars in my research and study. They were immensely helpful.

What are you trying to capture with the title “you will see the king in his beauty”?

The words come from Isaiah 33. I wanted to emphasize why it matters that the Lord is king. The story is about God conquering Satan, sin, and death. But why would we want to be on the winning side? It is because in the new creation (the new Jerusalem, the new heavens and earth) we will see the king in his beauty. We will be enraptured by our God and Jesus Christ forever.

Its been a fairly common theme in academic circles that a whole bible theology cannot be done or should not be done. Some suggest that labeling the Jewish Tanakh as the “Old Testament” is inherently racist and/or imperialistic. What’s your take on the “possibility” of a whole Bible theology?

Your question relates to what I said in answer to the first question. As evangelicals we believe in a unified story, in a canon that coheres, in a narrative that goes somewhere. Academic scholarship has typically maintained that there are different and even contradictory theologies in the scriptures. But as evangelicals we believe in diversity with an overall unity. Is our stance imperialistic toward the OT? It all depends upon your stance toward biblical revelation. We believe that the message of Jesus and the apostles, rightly interpreted, points toward an old covenant and a new covenant. We don’t believe we are imposing our own biases on scripture but receiving and transmitting the revelation given to us. We understand why those from other perspectives would disagree. The exclusivity of the Christian gospel has always been scandalous.

The question of “method” in particularly acute when attempting the bridge the Hebrew and Christian canon. What is your approach to “method” in terms of historical reconstruction of the literature, the reading of individual texts, and relating them across the canon?

I don’t engage in historical reconstruction in writing my biblical theology. Instead, I accept the canonical shape of the scriptures and the text as it has come down to us as the source for biblical theology. I read the texts from a certain perspective. I assume they are telling a unified story, but I also believe it is imperative to listen to the contribution of each writer and piece of literature.
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The Other 2013 Book I’m Most Excited to See

Tom Schreiner’s New Testament Theology was hailed by Simon Gathercole as “a magnificent acheivement.” What shall we say, then, about his new whole Bible theology, bearing the matchless title, The King in His Beauty?

I can say that there’s not a saner, clearer, shrewder, godlier scholar I know. No one humbler or happier, no one whose life better matches what he preaches and teaches. No one whose writings I find more helpful, more convincing, more instructive. As I’ve read Schreiner over the years, I’ve been so often edified. So many times I’ve been impressed by his ability to summarize so much scholarship so succinctly, and so often I’ve seen him solve what seemed to be intractable difficulties with straightforward common sense that accounts for everything in the text. I don’t know anyone who has read more, anyone more charitable in dispute, anyone more willing to learn from those of different perspectives, and I can’t think of anyone that I’ve learned more from than Tom Schreiner.

In fact, I’m having a hard time thinking of a point where he has failed to convince me. And I can be pretty disagreeable!

So in addition to Brian Vickers’ Justification by Grace through Faith, the other book I’m most looking forward to in 2013 is Tom Schreiner’s The King in His Beauty. These two books will make it a banner year in publishing for SBTS faculty, and then there’s the other other book I’m most looking forward to in 2012 from Denny Burk–what can I say!? All three are superlative. Stay tuned.

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The 2013 Book I’m Most Excited to See

Warning, hyperbolic statement ahead:

More than any other book that will be published in 2013, I’m excited to see this new one from Brian Vickers. Having already published on imputation (which if you haven’t read it already, you should click right here and get yourself a copy of Jesus’ Blood and Righteousness), and having spent years doing exegesis, reading widely and deeply, and faithfully teaching students, to say nothing of living well through joy and sorrow, there’s nobody I’d rather read on the article on which the church stands or falls than Brian Vickers.

My recommendation is that you pre-order your copy today. Seriously, can you think of a topic more central to the gospel than justification by faith? Don’t think you’ve got this one in your back pocket. I’ve had the pleasure of many a conversation with Prof. Vickers, and I’m excited about the insights waiting to burst in the minds of the readers of this book. After you pre-order your copy, I recommend you write P&R to thank them for publishing this important book, and ask the Lord to do more than can be asked or imagined with this important new title.

Just in case you’re wondering why I would give the warning with which this post began, the problem is that my enthusiasm over this new one from Brian Vickers is approximated by my anticipation of forthcoming volumes by Denny Burk and Tom Schreiner.

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J. K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy

What’s with Rowling’s new book? Is it an “adult” novel? I saw one report where, rejecting some connotations of the word “adult,” Rowling said she preferred to say the novel is for grown-ups.

That’s right.

This is not a book that titillates. This is not a book that seduces people, luring them to fantasize about illicit sexual activity.

Nor is this a book for impatient people unwilling to reflect, people who want artists to preach rather than produce works of art, people who don’t want their own rebellion exposed in all its darkness, more by the absence of light than its presence.

What is this book?

Holding the Mirror up to Nature

This is a book that does what Hamlet told the players they should do: hold the mirror up to nature. And nature isn’t pretty. Actually that needs to be qualified. Nature, as in the world in which we live, is beautiful. Stunning, really, and Rowling sings the beauty of the cool morning, the night sky, the hilltop view of the quaint township.

But if by “nature” we mean what Hamlet wanted the players to depict, the things that people do in the world, Rowling reveals the only-evil-all-the-time-ness of human impulses and actions. Often these two aspects of nature are juxtaposed in The Casual Vacancy: Rowling describes the heavens declaring the glory of God, then shows the image of God defiling the cosmic temple God made for his glory. There is many a jarring movement from the beauty of the world to the ugliness of what humans do in it.

Moral Fiction

In all their selfish pursuit of vanity, Rowling’s characters are oblivious to the stupendous glory of the world they inhabit. Just like us, most of the time. The Casual Vacancy is laced with profanity and sex, so what I’m about to say may seem incongruous: this is a piece of moral fiction. This book is moral the way that Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina is moral. That book is about adultery, and it shows the sin in all its ugliness. The Casual Vacancy depicts lots of sins in all their ugliness.

One of the things I appreciate about the Harry Potter stories is the way that Rowling depicts her characters such that we really understand their motivations and predicaments. She’s a master of characterization. That’s true of The Casual Vacancy as well. Do you want to understand human motivations and difficult predicaments? This book could help your powers of imagination and sympathy.

Restless Wandering

What might this book help you understand? Depending on your background and the level of authenticity you’ve experienced with people who are really suffering, you might encounter a lot of new things in this book:

A dyslexic girl who is overshadowed by older siblings finds refuge in cutting herself. A goofy teacher mocked by the whole school shows enormous courage in the face of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. A woman enslaved to heroin prostitutes herself and neglects her children to the point of one of them drowning and the other committing suicide. A liberal social worker has her own substance abuse issues, and her personal life is little better than the prostitute’s, as she is treated by the man in her life “like a hooker he doesn’t have to pay.” Conservative political types do not concern themselves with how their limitation of government programs will alter the lives of real people, particularly children.

My Brother’s Keeper?

This book will prompt reflection on the responsibility-depravity axis. It shows the unsatisfying lies of lust, the devastation of rape, the ruination of sex when used outside its appointed boundaries (a loving, one flesh, man-wife union in marriage), the wreckage of uncultivated marriage, the continual meanness to which all are prone, the lost-ness of unanchored souls unable to distinguish right from wrong and rumor from reality, the vanity of selfish and mistaken perceptions, the Stockholm Syndrome of a beaten wife and the rage of her abused children, the folly of youthful rebellion against “conventional morality,” and . . . and I’ve saved the biggest problem for last: the lack of a man who loves by living for others.

The catalyst of the story is the death of a good man. He leaves a vacancy. His death is the casual vacancy, which is a phrase used to describe the opening created by the death of a local councilor. The book is about the void left by the death of a man who was his brother’s keeper, and the story shows that the main reason others can’t fill the void he leaves is because they don’t love like he did.

Better to Give

Perhaps the sharpest contrast is drawn between the good man who has gone to his reward and the loser who is using the social worker for sex, a loser who could be a good man but he won’t commit, won’t invest his life in the woman he is exploiting, won’t lay his life down for the benefit of others. So he takes and does not give, and he knows no blessing. His selfishness does not make him happy, and it does not benefit those who need him.

Shame. Dirt. Filth. Sadness. Misery. That’s what people reject goodness to have. And when a good man dies, wicked people say “just goes to show,” as though the death of “Fairbrother” proves them right, as though they won’t die themselves, as though his death shows that loving others lands you dead. As though they are justified in their selfishness since “Fairbrother” died.

Rowling shows—in a way that never relativizes good and evil—that what you achieve or even what your agenda is matters a good deal less than how you live and whether you love people. She demonstrates that life outside “conventional morality” is miserable, and she tells it like it is. In The Casual Vacancy we see the unhappiness of sinners in all its fullness. We see that it’s not a program that makes a difference, it’s the man who loves others.

How to Respond?

This book is a powerful appeal for people to intervene in the lives of at-risk kids, for people to care about those unlike themselves, for people to be kind to one another, and Rowling is showing not telling. She makes her case not as a preacher but as an artist. The Casual Vacancy shows the “walking shadow” life becomes through disobedience, it shows the misery of the strutting and fretting on the stage when idiots reject God and his ways and become nothing more than sound and fury. When men will not love, when men will not be good, when men will not be Christ-like, the women and children suffer most, for they are weakest and easiest to exploit. Rowling makes this point, and makes it with power, by putting us in the wake of the death of a good man. No one steps into The Casual Vacancy able to love as Barry Fairbrother did.

If you ask me how I think J. K. Rowling wants people to respond to The Casual Vacancy, I think the answer is the one word formula of Dumbledore’s most powerful magic: love.

Will you love?

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On the Eve of the Release of Rowling’s Next Book

I’ve been thinking for a while about what J. K. Rowling teaches us in the Harry Potter stories through her depiction of Remus Lupin, the werewolf who is a good guy. I finally got around to writing up my reflections, and they’re now posted over at Christianity.com. Here’s the opening:

I love the Harry Potter stories. My first trip through them was an audio excursion guided by the talented Jim Dale. Enthusiasm for the books swept me right into reading them aloud to my children, and we’re almost finished with the series. I am thrilled that J. K. Rowling’s next book, The Casual Vacancy, is appearing any moment now. I can’t wait to read it. Sorry for my effusive delight over these books—what I’m trying to do is tell you about one of the characters in the Harry Potter stories, Remus Lupin.

There’s a play on his name, as lupus is the Latin word for “wolf,” and Lupin is a werewolf. Werewolves are not exactly pleasant, and the surprising thing is that Lupin is one of the good guys. This is one of the ways that Rowling has given us stories that are true to life.

In the Potter stories, if you get bitten by a werewolf, the bite infects you and can make you a werewolf. Remus Lupin’s father had offended an awful villain of a werewolf, and that werewolf sought revenge by biting Remus when he was a child.

Remus did not want to be a werewolf. Abused by an adult, he became a danger to himself and others. He was cut off from society. He suffered terribly, and he had no control over his affliction. At the full moon, whether he wanted to be transformed into a werewolf or not, he lost control of himself and became something dangerous.

Have you ever met anyone who has experienced something like this? Or has this been your own experience? Something tragic, awful, happened during childhood, and its painful repercussions seem all but inescapable?

Read the whole thing here.

Get the Potter books here.

Get The Casual Vacancy, which releases Thursday, September 27, 2012, here.

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The Life We Long for: On Cormac McCarthy’s The Road

“She would of been a good woman,” The Misfit said, “if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”

These words, near the end of Flanner O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find,” bounced around in my head as I made my way through Cormac McCarthy’s novel The Road. The man and son on the road live every day knowing that someone is there to shoot them, just around the bend, in the weeds across the ditch, or coming up behind them. Along with the constant threat, McCarthy’s spare prose builds a world in which trinkets and distractions have been stripped away. Neither color nor sunshine decks this landscape. The story confronts us with characters forced moment by moment to recognize what matters.

“No lists of things to be done. The day providential to itself. The hour. There is no later. This is later. All things of grace and beauty such that one holds them to one’s heart have a common provenance in pain. Their birth in grief and ashes. So, he whispered to the sleeping boy. I have you.”

The man and son in this predicament testify by their very existence that humans must live for others, else there’s no reason to live. And they show us that we cannot live without hope.

World as We Know It

The novel’s opening paragraph invokes Plato, Bunyan, Jonah, and Dante:

“In the dream from which he’d wakened he had wandered in a cave where the child led him by the hand. Their light playing over wet flowstone walls. Like pilgrims in a fable swallowed up and lost among the inward parts of some granitic beast. Tolling in the silence the minutes of the earth and the hours and the days of it and the years without cease. Until they stood in a great stone room where lay a black and ancient lake. . .”

Like Dante finding himself in a dark wood, McCarthy’s pilgrim will be led through hell to love not by Virgil but by the child. Like Bunyan’s Christian he shoulders his pack, which he will lose on the way to the celestial city. Like Jonah this man’s journey and experience are in themselves a message that calls Ninevites to repentance. Like Plato McCarthy seeks to deliver us from the illusion of the cave to know what is real (“forms” are invoked throughout, as is the image of “philosophers chained to a madhouse wall”).

McCarthy’s pilgrim is loath to wake from dreams of the world as we now know it, and McCarthy calls his audience to repent of discontented distraction and awaken to this world, the world of our dreams. At one point the man finds clean water, “water so sweet that he could smell it,” and he finds “Nothing in his memory anywhere of anything so good.” Savor your next drink of the same.

Like Job’s wife, the man’s wife gave up (the line “Curse God and die” appears in the novel, followed shortly by the suggestive word “Blessed”). She asserted that those who had survived were “the walking dead in a horror film.” She claimed that there was no counterargument, that she hoped “for eternal nothingness.” But the counterargument McCarthy shows—not tells—is faith, hope, and self-giving love. These show the bankruptcy of hopeless, faithless existence that ends in nothingness. The man even pled that his wife not kill herself with the words, “For the love of God, woman. . .”

These Three Remain

McCarthy’s words depict a world of “The frailty of everything revealed at last,” and the story he sets in that world shows that when all else is gone hope, faith, love, and life remain, that a man knows no greater love than to lay down his life for another, that life itself—the fact that we go on living—argues against despair. The birth of the boy was the man’s warrant for hope and faith against the devastated despair of his wife that a child had been born into such a world. The man and his wife responded in opposite ways: to her the child was a sorrow that tore out her heart, to him a miracle aglow with goodness:

“They sat at the window and ate in their robes by candlelight a midnight supper and watched distant cities burn. A few nights later she gave birth in their bed by the light of a drycell lamp. Gloves meant for dishwashing. The improbable appearance of the small crown of the head. Streaked with blood and lank black hair. The rank meconium. Her cries meant nothing to him.”

The alternatives are clear: death/life; despair/hope; selfishness/love. And in this book the good guys choose life, hope, and love. The good guys never give up. The good guys don’t break small promises because it leads to breaking big ones. The good guys carry the fire.

“The nights were blinding cold and casket black and the long reach of the morning had a terrible silence to it. Like a dawn before battle. . . . There were times when he sat watching the boy sleep that he would begin to sob uncontrollably but it wasnt about death. He wasnt sure what it was about but he thought it was about beauty or about goodness. Things that he’d no longer any way to think about at all.

Sharp Contrast

Other religious answers are also contrasted. At one point man and boy encounter a traveler, “a starved and threadbare buddha,” and this traveler regards the world and his experience as though nothing matters. When the man asks the buddha, “How would you know if you were the last man on earth?” The buddha says to the man:

“It woudnt make any difference. When you die it’s the same as if everybody else did too.”

The man replies: “I guess God would know it. Is that it?

Buddha: “There is no God.”

The man: “No?”

McCarthy condemns the buddha’s logic by presenting him contradicting himself with the retort: “There is no God and we are his prophets.”

The man meets the buddha’s nonsensical assertion that he is the prophet of a God who does not exist with a counterargument for the buddha’s indifferent rejection of God: “I dont understand how you’re still alive. How do you eat?”

The assertion “There is no God” is answered with the counter-assertion “you’re still alive.” The man seems to be suggesting that life itself is proof of God, evidence against meaninglessness.

To the question “How do you eat?” the begging buddha replies: “People give you things.” With these words the buddha confesses that apart from the Christian virtue of charity he has no hope of life. The man has countered the buddha’s rejection of God with the fact of the buddha’s ongoing life, and the buddha himself has acknowledged that the generosity of others sustains his life. The wider narrative makes plain that generosity and charity spring only from faith in God, from hope that God will deliver and provide, and from love that mimics the very love of Christ, who gave his life that we might live.

As the man and boy move on, the man asks if the buddha will thank the boy for giving him food, but the buddha refuses to do so. Christianity makes gratitude possible, but the buddha will not give the thanks he owes.

This conversation with the buddha shows that love is distinctly Christian. The buddha has no category for love, goodness, or kindness, and the man’s suspicious interchange with him also shows how essential trust is to human communication. God is basic to human kindness and essential to human dignity. That is to say, apart from God there can be neither kindness nor dignity. The buddha will not even wish the man and the boy luck, and McCarthy seems thereby to intimate that a belief in God’s providence undergirds the kind of luck the man knows the buddha will not wish him. As they leave him, the man tells his son, “There’s not a lot of good news on the road” (175). The buddha has no gospel.

The book opens with the man waking to grope for his son, earnest for reassurance that he is there, that they are safe. The book closes with the man going to sleep, choosing not to kill his son before he dies, clearly trusting that though he will not be awake to protect the boy, he can rest knowing that the boy will be safe. For this pilgrim, dying is an act of faith. They have not wandered in a cave but in a world without civilization, a world without forms. The forms are the world we now enjoy, if . . . if McCarthy’s Jonah can lead us to repentance by escorting us through the inferno, pilgrims making their way through the ruins of Vanity Fair. McCarthy seems to want us to know that the life we long for is the life we have.

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This post originally appeared on The Gospel Coalition Blog. For a video of McCarthy on the Oprah Winfrey show that validates the proposal I make here, see this post.

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Review of Goldsworthy, Christ-Centered Biblical Theology

This review was originally posted at TGC Reviews

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Graeme Goldsworthy, Christ-Centered Biblical Theology: Hermeneutical Foundations and Principles. Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2012. 251pp. $20.00, paper.

Let me begin by saying what Graeme Goldsworthy’s Christ-Centered Biblical Theology: Hermeneutical Foundations and Principles is not. This book is not a sustained argument that Christ is the center of biblical theology, though that view is repeatedly asserted.[1] Nor is this book an exposition of a selection of biblical themes, a book by book trek through the Bible, or a survey of salvation history.

What, then, is it?

The subtitle approaches its content, but more than anything else the book is an explanation and defense of the biblical theology of Donald Robinson. Goldsworthy dedicates the book to Robinson, exposits his schematic approach to biblical theology, defends it as superior to a “Vos–Clowney” model, and concludes with discussions of “Robinson’s typology” and “The Robinson Legacy.”

The main difference between what Goldsworthy terms the Robinson–Hebert[2] model as opposed to that of the Vos–Clowney crowd seems to be in how the divisions or “epochs” of OT history are conceived and made. In distinction from the Vos–Clowney approach, which favors an epochal division of OT history and sees great significance in the Sinai covenant made with Moses, Goldsworthy champions the way the Robinson–Hebert model works less in terms of “epochs” and more in terms of “modes of revelation” (171). Goldsworthy insists that foregrounding Abraham and the eschatology announced by the prophets makes it easier to see how patterns and prophecies are fulfilled in Jesus. He states, “This pattern of recapitulation is the one highlighted by Donald Robinson and Gabriel Hebert and that, in my opinion, provides a better understanding of the matrix of revelation than the pattern of epochs proposed by Vos, Murray and Clowney” (149). Goldsworthy’s view is that the Robinson–Hebert approach makes Moses less a new departure and more an outworking of the covenant with Abraham, and thus better fits the biblical material. Rather than seeing Moses as a prominent new departure, Goldsworthy would see the Bible’s big story breaking down as follows: Creation to Abraham, then David, then the prophets, then fulfillment achieved by Jesus, concluding with the New Creation (26).

Goldsworthy presents this as putting students of the Bible in better position to understand how the New Testament claims fulfillment of the Old. He writes, “As I have been at pains to demonstrate, the typological structure Robinson arrives at differs somewhat from the epochal structures determined by Vos and his disciples. . . . These are not so much epochs as modes of revelation” (171). And then he quotes Robinson on the way the patterns of OT history would find fulfillment in what Christ brings:

There would be a new Exodus, a new redemption from slavery and a new entry into the land of promise . . . a new covenant and a new law . . . . a new Jerusalem . . . a new David . . . a new Temple . . . . It would not be too much to say that Israel’s history, imperfectly experienced in the past, would find its perfect fulfillment “in that day” (173).

This understanding is based on the view that Israel’s prophets use Israel’s past as a paradigm that points to Israel’s future: “The key point is that the prophetic perspectives of the future restoration and ultimate salvation are based on, and follow the pattern of, the salvation history of the past” (133).

I think that Goldsworthy and Robinson are correct about these patterns, but I doubt that the Vos–Clowney crowd would disagree, nor am I convinced their stance on “epochs” and the approach they take to the mosaic covenant hinder them from arriving at similar conclusions.[3] Some of these differences relate to broader, more systematic-theological commitments, as Goldsworthy himself acknowledges when he comments on the Westminster Confession and the 39 Articles (169 n. 11).

There are two issues in this book where I think Goldsworthy could be clearer, one having to do with the center of biblical theology, the other with what biblical theology is and how we are to pursue it. I have argued that the glory of God in salvation through judgment is the center of biblical theology, so I am glad to see that Goldsworthy regards the search for the center as not only valid but necessary. He writes,

The question to be put to those evangelicals who reject a “centre” in favour of a multiplex approach is, what gives the Bible its unity? Once we undertake to describe “A Biblical Theology”, as opposed to “Biblical Theologies”, we are bound to attempt to organize our material on the basis of some central principle theme or person. We cannot assert the unity of the word of God and at the same time relegate its description to the too-hard basket (109).[4]

I am glad that Goldsworthy sees the need for a center, but he could be clearer on what he thinks the center is. It might be objected that the title of this book makes plain what Goldsworthy sees as the center of biblical theology: Christ-Centered Biblial Theology, and at several points in the book he makes affirmations to that effect:

  • “Christ as the centre of biblical theology” (31).
  • “the role of Jesus Christ as the centre to which all Scripture leads” (32).
  • “there is the lack of consensus about the nature, the principles and the method of biblical theology. . . . my main purpose in this investigation is to try to establish an approach that is consistent with biblical presuppositions and that is ultimately Christ-centred” (35).
  • Jesus is “the central subject matter of the Hebrew Scriptures” (45).
  • “evangelical biblical theology should proceed with the presuppositions of the unity of Scripture and the centrality of Christ” (47).
  • “the central role of Jesus Christ” (216).
  • “central focus on Christ” (217).
  • “The sufficiency of Christ stretches to his sufficiency as the fulfilling centre of the whole canon of Scripture” (225).

It would appear from all this that Goldsworthy thinks that Christ is the center of biblical theology, right? Perhaps, but Goldsworthy also says in this book: “Thus I stand by my initial suggestion that the central theme of Scripture is the kingdom of God defined simply as God’s people in God’s place under God’s rule” (75).

Goldsworthy does not offer a discussion that attempts to reconcile these two affirmations. He offers no harmonization of them, so any suggestion as to how he can affirm that both Christ and the kingdom of God are the center of biblical theology would be mere speculation. He needs to clarify this. I can imagine those who contend that the search for a center is “chimerical” (Carson) and “an obsession” (Scobie) citing what Goldsworthy does here as evidence for their cause: an advocate for the idea that biblical theology has a center cannot pick one and actually affirms two different centers in the same book. Ouch.

For my part, I would identify the center of biblical theology with what the biblical authors indicate is God’s ultimate purpose, what they present as being the grand theme out of which every other theme is birthed and to which every other theme flows, and I contend that God’s ultimate purpose is to make known his glory, particularly in displays of justice that highlight his mercy, the supreme example of this being the cross of Christ.[5]

The other area where Goldsworthy could be clearer is on the very definition of biblical theology, which directly affects the method we use to pursue the task. Goldsworthy writes,

So, let us begin with a broadly consensual definition of biblical theology as the discipline that seeks to understand the theological message, or messages, communicated through the variety of literary phenomena within the various books of the Bible (39).

He goes on to say, “By ‘theology’ we mean that which is revealed of God and his ways” (54), having also stated that,

Biblical theology happens when we engage part or all of the biblical text and endeavor to lay bare the theological content that is there. The immediate goal is not the formulation of Christian doctrine for today, but rather an understanding of what this biblical text reveals about God and his ways with his creation (39).

This is fine as far as it goes. The problem is that it does not go very far, nor is it either very descriptive or very precise. Can we not say more than that we are after the “theological message,” that “theology” has to do with what is “revealed of God,” and that we are trying to “lay bare the theological content that is there”?

Goldsworthy also says that “biblical theology is concerned with the structures of revelation and with the ways in which the unity of the biblical canon can be described” (40). What does he mean by “the structures of revelation”? It would seem that he refers here to the “Robinson–Hebert schema” he defends, which he also refers to as “stages of revelation: biblical history, prophetic eschatology and the fulfillment achieved by Christ” (221). Since these “structures” and “stages” of revelation transcend the work of any one biblical author, Goldsworthy appears to be interpreting the work of the divine author as he does biblical theology. This may explain why Goldsworthy does not often engage directly with the biblical text. His brand of biblical theology is more presuppositional, theological, and philosophical than it is exegetical.

This is my biggest concern about Goldsworthy’s approach: which biblical author provides the warrant for the Robinson–Hebert schema? Is this schema an interpretation of a statement made by a biblical author? Is Goldsworthy interpreting the intentions of a particular biblical author? Or is this an interpretation of a reconstructed history derived from multiple biblical books? That is to say, is this an interpretation of particular biblical texts or an interpretation of a historical construct derived from the texts? Or perhaps this is an interpretation of the final form of the canon—and in that case does Goldsworthy envision a human “canonicler” who intended this meaning to arise out of the whole or must he appeal only to the intentions of the divine author?

I would contend that a more precise definition of biblical theology will enable us to pursue a method that is easier to describe, practice, and verify. In my view, it is better to define biblical theology along these lines: biblical theology is the attempt to understand the interpretive perspective of the biblical authors. We are trying to discern the worldview behind the statements they make.[6] We who believe the Bible should also adopt the worldview of the biblical authors.[7] This anchors biblical theology in authorial intent, and we need not bifurcate the intention of the human and divine authors. We know what the divine author intended to communicate because we understand what he inspired the human authors to write.

Defining biblical theology as the pursuit of the interpretive perspective of the biblical authors brings methodological clarity as we focus in on how later biblical authors interpreted earlier Scripture, and with the first biblical author, Moses, we can examine how he has interpreted the events he narrates. These interpretations will be reflected in the choices made regarding what to include or exclude and how what is included has been presented. We have an interpreted account of the world in the Bible, and biblical theology seeks to discern the perspective from which the world has been interpreted.[8] The crafting of narrative and poetry is obviously relevant here, as are intertextuality and typology, and all of this is verifiable as we use criteria for analyzing poetics, quotations, allusions, and echoes to arbitrate such questions as the author’s intentions and whether and how a later author has evoked and interpreted earlier texts. We cannot achieve absolute certainty, but we can be more precise, closer to the text, and more clear about exactly what we are after.[9]

Many of us have learned a great deal from Graeme Goldsworthy. He has done as much as anyone in our day to draw attention to the importance of and need for biblical theology. This book, Christ-Centered Biblical Theology, recounts the personal nature of his own journey, attests his love and appreciation for his teacher, Donald Robinson, and thereby encourages all who serve in like manner to persevere in love for students and passion for the Lord and his Word.



[1] The spelling of the word “center” varies: “centered” is on the cover, but the Aussie “centre” prevails through the text.

[2] Goldsworthy provides an interesting tidbit about Hebert in footnote 10 on page 168, “These concepts of inspiration and authority would mean for Hebert something different from Robinson’s biblicism. Despite this, Hebert as a conservative Anglo-Catholic nevertheless had a high view of Scripture and a clear sense of the structure of Revelation. See A. G. Hebert, The Authority of the Old Testament . . . , and Fundamentalism and the Church of God . . . The latter contains some criticism of evangelical views of Scripture and provoked a response from James I. Packer, ‘Fundamentalism’ and the Word of God . . .” For his own part Goldsworthy repeatedly affirms the unity of the Bible, its status as inspired revelation (e.g., 40–41, 54), that God makes no mistakes, and that the Bible is “self-authenticating, infallible” . . . and that these attributes are “the foundation of a hermeneutic of authorial intent” (43).

[3] Goldsworthy writes, “It is the sensitivity to this, so central to Robinson’s schema, that seems to be missing from the works of Vos and Clowney but brought out to some extent by Dennis Johnson” (134). I wonder if this has more to do with the historical situation and interpretive atmosphere of those named than it has to do with the adoption of a particular approach to conceptualizing OT history.

[4] He also comments on “the delineation of the centre of biblical theology that gives Scripture its unity” (109), and, acknowledging those who raise “the caution about a centre,” he writes, “I regard these men as being overcautious in this matter. Somewhere along the line we have to ask what gives the Scriptures their unity” (216).

[5] See further James M. Hamilton, God’s Glory in Salvation Through Judgment: A Biblical Theology (Wheaton: Crossway, 2010).

[6] Ibid., 41–42, 355.

[7] I think this is what Goldsworthy is after when he writes, “Biblical theology . . . is, after all, a name we give to the divine imperative to the church to listen to God’s Word and to live in submission to its authority” (217).

[8] I pursue these issues further in a forthcoming project, James M. Hamilton, What Is Biblical Theology? (Wheaton: Crossway, 2013).

[9] So if we appeal, for instance, to our exegesis of Galatians 3 to show that Paul understood the promises to Abraham to take priority over the covenant with Moses, and that the covenant with Moses at Sinai flows out of them, we can be more precise and definitive. By contrast, without appeal to Galatians 3, relying on a wide-angle discussion of the OT, Goldsworthy says, “From the foregoing summary of the major persons, places and events in the biblical history, it becomes evident, I believe, that it is more natural to the biblical accounts to understand the watershed in revelation to be David and Solomon, not Moses” (132). Whereas an exegetical discussion of Galatians 3 can be analyzed, Goldsworthy’s claims are more impressionistic, less verifiable.

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I. H. Marshall Reviews G. K. Beale

It’s not often that a scholar of the stature of I. Howard Marshall reviews a book by a scholar of the stature of G. K. Beale. Both are men of massive influence, standing, piety, and scholarship.

Both Marshall and Beale have written a New Testament Theology, and Marshall’s review of Beale’s is in Themelios 37.2, which appeared today. Here’s Marshall’s conclusion:

So if you want a survey that will tell you what are the characteristics and distinctive contributions of the individual authors or books of the NT, you will not find it here (although you will be able to find what many of them say or imply on the selected theme of the book), and you will need to turn to such as Frank Matera and Frank Thielman. Similarly, if you want synthetic summaries of the teaching of the NT on the various motifs that it discusses, you will need to turn to such as Donald Guthrie or Tom Schreiner. And if you want a critical discussion of the varied understandings of contemporary scholars, you will need to turn to such as Peter Stuhlmacher. This volume focuses essentially on the biblical basis for NT theology, and I found so many fresh ideas (well, fresh to me) in it that I have read it with excitement and shall need to keep returning to it for fresh stimulus.

I think it’s safe to say that Marshall’s book will also “tell you what are the characteristics and distinctive contributions of the individual authors or books of the NT.”

Anyone interested in biblical theology should read the whole thing.

Related: my review of Beale’s book can be found here.

 

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Review of Phillips, God’s Wisdom in Proverbs

Note: Themelios 37.2 has just appeared, in which this review is published. I would note also that what Dan Phillips does in this book, especially with Proverbs 22:6, goes very well with the previous post on child-training in the OT.

Dan Phillips. God’s Wisdom in Proverbs: Hearing God’s Voice in Scripture. The Woodlands, TX: Kress, 2011. xxi + 405pp. $24.99. Printed Caseside.

Dan Phillips is pastor of Copperfield Bible Church in Houston, TX, and he writes regularly with Phil Johnson and Frank Turk at the Pyromaniacs blog. In addition to the volume under review here, Phillips has written The World-Tilting Gospel. Both books come at readers with a deadly seriousness about the gospel and sound doctrine tossed in a breezy light-hearted writing style. The jocular sternness is a jolting combination: Phillips brings a grin to the face then grabs for the throat. He takes the biblical languages seriously too, so while this book does not have an academic feel the Hebrew text of Proverbs is consistently engaged.

God’s Wisdom in Proverbs comes in eight chapters with an epilogue and four appendices. Chapter one presents the essentials for understanding Proverbs: Phillips holds firmly to Solomonic authorship, an issue given 20 pages in appendix one; he interprets Proverbs in harmony with the rest of the Hebrew Bible; and he discusses the book’s structure (relying mainly on the headings), poetry, and parallelism as he orients the reader to the interpretation of the book. Chapter two is a thirty page discussion of Proverbs 1:2–6, and chapter three explores the fear of Yahweh. Chapter four focuses mainly on Proverbs 2:1–6 on the topic of “how to wise up.” Chapter five exposits the teaching of Proverbs on trusting and knowing God. Chapter six synthesizes the teaching of Proverbs on godly relationships, chapter seven does the same for marriage, and chapter 8 rounds out the body of the book with over 60 pages on the teaching of Proverbs on child-training. In the epilogue Phillips addresses the reader who might feel condemned by the high standards set forth in the book of Proverbs: he urges faith in Christ for justification, explaining how the transforming power of the Spirit to regenerate enables people to live according to the wisdom set forth in Proverbs. As mentioned above, appendix one deals with Solomonic authorship of Proverbs. Appendix two looks at “words related to teaching in Proverbs,” appendix three is given to the meaning of Proverbs 22:6, “Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it” (ESV), and appendix four deals with “preaching and teaching the book of Proverbs.”

In appendix three Phillips takes the position that Proverbs 22:6 is a warning, which he translates as “Start out a youth according to his own way—even should he grow old, he will not turn from it.” Phillips shows how the bare Hebrew “his way” is typically translated such that the “way” referenced is the “right” way, but he contends, with Douglas Stuart and others, that this is an unwarranted addition. The defense Phillips provides for his interpretation of this verse, taking it to state that children will be confirmed in and stay in the way they are trained to go, whether that way is good or bad, is clear and compelling.

The teaching of Proverbs is desperately needed today. As our society descends into decadence, this book of the Bible will give us a backbone and help us to stand, and this applies to everything from fearing God to relating appropriately to others and cultivating marriage and training children, to say nothing of sound economic policy. We need no more “explanations” of Proverbs that nullify its teaching or assume it has no connection to its Old Testament context. Rather, we need balanced, studied, serious, joyful, and wise explanation and application of Proverbs. Enter Dan Phillips. This would be a great book for men’s discipleship groups, for a pastor planning to preach through Proverbs, for the recent graduate, and for much else. We can thank Phillips especially for his balanced and courageous presentation of how parents should use the rod for reproof.

Our day is also a day in which some are calling for “crazy” or “radical” expressions of Christianity. These presentations are seldom seasoned with the whole counsel of God: do they take Old Testament wisdom literature into account? Wouldn’t the Old Testament wisdom literature help us to follow Jesus, who taught people to count the cost of doing so? Often the calls to sell all or leave all appeal to younger people, typically college students, who have few responsibilities, are unmarried, and have no children—the very kinds of people for whom Solomon wrote Proverbs. All Christians today need the message of Proverbs, but it was expressly written to make wise the simple. Proverbs remains God’s word for God’s people. As we seek to follow Christ today, we will only be wholly committed to Jesus when we live by the wisdom the Spirit inspired Solomon to write in Proverbs. Dan Phillips has given us a study that would be a great place to start down the path of acquiring wisdom.

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Codex Sinaiticus: A Full Color Facsimile

Nearly all the sacred words are in these full color photos of the pounced parchment scribed with the ancient ink. Living words copied by three maybe four careful hands. God breathed words, every one true, every thought from man and from God. Every utterance worthy of trust. These leaves in these photos passed under no press but were prepared by living hands. Letters embossed by the living, for the living, from the living. This is a book written by hands to be written on hearts.

How many such manuscripts contain both Old and New Testaments of the Christian Bible? Not many. Even fewer as early as the 300’s AD. With Codex Vaticanus, Codex Sinaiticus is one of the two most important manuscripts of the whole Bible in Greek. Codex Sinaiticus is a wonder of the world, a priceless treasure. More than an artifact, though, this book preserves the word of God, presenting an ancient Greek translation from the Old Testament’s Hebrew and the New Testament in its original Greek.

Unless God reveals himself, as this book claims he has, we cannot know him. Without the manuscripts that preserve God’s revelation of himself in the writings of the biblical authors, we have no access to the sacred texts. Is there anything in the world more needed than the word of God? And as one of the most ancient presentations of the word of God in Greek, what can have more value than a witness to the word such as Codex Sinaiticus?

High quality photographs of Codex Sinaiticus are being made available online, and now the British Library and Hendrickson Publishers have brought out a full size, full color facsimile of the whole manuscript. They are selling them. You can buy one. Examine it for yourself. Astonishing. Perhaps you would like to rethink whether there are more important things for you to do than examine the word of God as presented by an ancient manuscript?

The book is handsomely made and finely bound. Lovely in appearance, hefty in weight, imposing in size. The photographs are clear and the text is there for close reading. Lunate sigmas and ligatures, strike-throughs and spelling anomalies, running headers, red ink in places, binding notations from ancient craftsmen, pumice marks from the scribes who scrubbed the hide, follicles from the hair of the goats who gave their skin, tears visible where the parchment was too thin or the scribe too rough, corrections from the very scribe who made the mistake. Everything there to be seen on the thick pages with the color photos in full size.

The new full color facsimile is a vast improvement of the facsimile brought out a century ago by Helen and Kirsopp Lake. No more must a man travel to London, Leipzig, and Mount Sinai to see the whole thing. You can spread this full color facsimile of the thing on the table in front of you—you’ll need a big table.

Who should care most about such a treasure, such a privilege? Should it not be those who most love the words, those for whom these words are sweeter than honey from the comb, those who would heed the call to meditate on them day and night, build their house on the rock foundation they lay, view their world through the lens they grind, and live on the hope that rises in the east. This is our story, our book, Codex Sinaiticus our treasure. On its testimony our faith rests. These are the words that make the foolish wise unto salvation. Why not learn Greek? Why not examine the Codex?

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Congrats to Gentry and Wellum on Kingdom through Covenant

I am delighted that the UPS man just dropped this book at our house.

Heartiest congratulations to Peter J. Gentry and Stephen J. Wellum on their book, Kingdom through Covenant: A Biblical-Theological Understanding of the Covenants.

I’m thrilled to see this in print, and I’m excited about the discussion of this book and my own God’s Glory in Salvation through Judgment: A Biblical Theology that will take place at ETS this fall.

Here are the details on the session:

SESSION INFORMATION
11/15/2012
3:00 PM-6:10 PM
Frontier Airlines Center — 102 E
Biblical Theology (Invited): Recent Whole-Bible Biblical Theologies

Moderator
Stephen G. Dempster
Crandall University

3:00 PM—3:40pm
Jim Hamilton
Southern Seminary
Why “God’s Glory in Salvation through Judgment: A Biblical Theology”?

3:50pm—4:30pm
Peter J. Gentry
Southern Seminary
Kingdom through Covenant and the Glory of God

3:50pm—4:30pm
Steve Wellum
Southern Seminary
From Biblical to Systematic Theology: What “Kingdom through Covenant” is Seeking to Contribute

4:40pm—5:00pm
Respondent
Mark Boda
McMaster Divinity College, McMaster University
Response to James M. Hamilton’s God’s Glory in Salvation through Judgment: A Biblical Theology

5:00pm—5:20pm
Respondent
Elmer A. Martens
Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary
Response to Peter Gentry and Stephen Wellum’s Kingdom through Covenant: A Biblical-Theological Understanding of the Covenants

5:30pm—6:10 PM
Panel Discussion

Mark Boda
McMaster Divinity College, McMaster University

Stanley K. Fowler
Heritage Theological Seminary

Peter J. Gentry
Southern Seminary

Jim Hamilton
Southern Seminary

Elmer A. Martens
Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary

Steve Wellum
Southern Seminary

Craig Carter
Tyndale College, Toronto

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I am honored to serve alongside Professors Gentry and Wellum. I don’t consider myself worthy of their company, to say nothing of Tom Schreiner’s, who having written a Pauline Theology and a New Testament Theology will soon bring out his own Whole-Bible Theology.

Other single volume attempts at Whole Bible Biblical Theology include the following:

Geerhardus Vos, Biblical Theology, 1948

Willem Vangemeren, The Progress of Redemption, 1988

Brevard Childs, Biblical Theology of the Old and New Testaments, 1993

Charles H. H. Scobie, The Ways of Our God, 2003

Reinhard Feldmeier and Hermann Spieckermann, God of the Living, 2011

My book appeared in 2010, Gentry and Wellum’s appears now in 2012, and Schreiner’s The King in His Beauty is set to appear in 2013. That means that three of the four larger (600+pg) evangelical attempts at Whole Bible Biblical Theology published in this century have been written by members of the faculty of Southern Seminary.

If you’re interested in biblical theology, let me invite you to check out SBTS. This a great place to study.

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Some Thoughts on Preaching the Minor Prophets

How should we approach preaching the Minor Prophets? Should we move through the text chronologically, thematically, book by book, several books per sermon? A friend of mine posed these questions to me, and I thought I’d put my replies here in case they might help others as well.

The Chronological approach would be difficult to nail down, I think, because we don’t have kings listed at the beginning of each one establishing when the prophet ministered – so we’re not exactly sure when Jonah or Joel or Obadiah prophesied.

So without a statement from the author, the chronological approach moves us into historical considerations, and since the author doesn’t make clear historical statements, we’re inching away from authorial intent.

I prefer to stay with authorial intent, and we can say that the author intended to present what he actually said (and in these cases he didn’t say anything about dates or chronology . . .).

So for me the two preferable options would be either to (1) follow the author’s own structure in seeking the structures for your sermons–so you base the sermon or series on the structure of the books themselves (the sections in GGSTJ on these books give my attempt at their structure), or (2) choose a set of themes that you want to teach through–see for example the chart on p. 232 in GGSTJ.

If you look at GGSTJ 229–34, you’ll see that I think the 12 have been arranged to comprise one “book” that communicates a unified message. On p. 234 I summarize Paul House’s description of that message.

If you wanted to do three sermons that covered the whole 12 prophets, my recommendation would be do follow the three bullet points I give on p. 234 that come right out of a book Paul House wrote – he’s footnoted on that page.

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God Bless Andrew Peterson

Today at our house we are officially inducting Andrew Peterson into the Hamilton Hall of Fame for his sheer awesomeness. If you’re a regular here at For His Renown, you know that we have taken great delight in Andrew’s music (song) and writings (word), and now he has topped it off with a gift of line (form). The T.H.A.G.s, the Three Honored and Great Subjects, of music, writing, and drawing, are crafts this brother cultivates, and he has blessed us with all three.

We were introduced to his work several years ago when a dear friend gave us his Christmas album Behold the Lamb of God, which may be the best thing to happen to Christmas music since Handel’s Messiah. We loved Resurrection Letters Vol. 2, then Counting Stars, and we eagerly await Light for the Lost Boy. You won’t regret buying these albums. They will enrich your life, open your eyes, deepen your soul, and tell you of the hope that holds through the night.

Then we learned that he wrote books in addition to songs, and we had to have a look. What we saw was startling, intriguing, joy-giving, yea, beautiful. One night as we were reading On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, it got so late I had to put the kids to bed, but I was in storygrip so after I put them to bed I kept reading right on to the end.

Hit that link above and go get your copy. Read and enjoy, then move on to North! Or Be Eaten, whose adventure and sacrifice and resurrection are topped off by the joy of the reunion of a long separated family in The Monster in the Hollows, a joy that rises from the ashes of sorrow and must plunge into the uncertainty of the future. What that future holds awaits the writing of The Warden and the Wolf King.

If you get the books and start now, you can live through the experience of reading them as the story is being written–how often does the chance to do that come along? Books one, two, and three are waiting for you at Amazon or the Rabbit Room. I read them aloud to our kids, and now the ones old enough to read regularly revisit them.

All this brings me to the point of this post. We entered a book review contest, won second place, and the creative generosity of Andrew Peterson resulted in our prize arriving today!

Andrew is in our Hamilton Hall of Fame for this drawing of The Great Library at Ban Rona, replete with a note from the author telling the thrilling tale of the perilous adventure that overtook him as he created the masterpiece.

Praise God for Andrew Peterson, today’s inductee into the Hamilton Hall of Fame, may the Lord bless his every endeavor, and may each of you visit the links to the works of art above, click the Like button, click the Add to Cart button, then enjoy the music and the stories, the lyrics and the love.

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Do You “Get” Flannery O’Connor? She Writes Like a Biblical Author

Flannery O’Connor’s novel Wise Blood left me scratching my head. I think that was part of her technique, honestly. The “meaning” of her stories isn’t right there on the surface as it is in a Dickens novel. Her works really have to be pondered, and you’re best off pondering from the perspective of the biblical authors (by the way, learning the perspective of the biblical authors is the point of biblical theology).

I think the technique of writers like Flannery O’Connor and James Joyce is actually closer to that of the biblical authors than what we find from the likes of Dostoevsky, Dickens, Tolstoy, etc (writers who are easier to enjoy). What I mean is that as in biblical narratives, the plot isn’t always there on the surface, and you have to read carefully for the perspective from which the narrator presents the story. Once you understand the narrator’s perspective, you can tell whether his presentation is meant to be taken positively or negatively (note: if Miss Flannery can use the generic “he” when talking about what authors do, and she does, so I can).

Consider this example: suppose a hard-left abortion-activist is describing the activities of a pro-life person trying to persuade women not to have abortions. If the abortionist says the words: “He was standing outside that clinic distributing literature,” we know that statement is meant as an indictment.

But consider the statement.

It’s only an indictment because we know the abortionist’s opinion of such activity.

The same words could be spoken by a pro-life attorney defending such behavior: “He was standing outside that clinic distributing literature.” When the pro-life attorney says the words, they are a declaration of innocence rather than an indictment.

My point here is that this is how the biblical authors often operate. The authors of Kings and Samuel expect their audience to know Deuteronomy, and they expect their audience to understand that their accounts are written with the Torah as the standard of evaluation. The meta-narrative in which they have couched their plot has also been articulated by Moses in passages like Leviticus 26, Deuteronomy 4:25–31, and Deuteronomy 28–32, and this meta-narrative is assumed rather than directly invoked in a passage like Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the temple in 1 Kings 8.

So to understand these texts, we have to know the perspective of the biblical authors. That is, we have to understand biblical theology. (Want some help?).

All this to say, I think that writers like James Joyce and Flannery O’Connor are imitating the artistry they have seen in the Bible, and I’m grateful for people who have studied the writings of Joyce and O’Connor with the kind of rigor a biblical theologian applies to the Bible.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I’m really grateful that Jonathan Rogers has started The Flannery O’Connor Summer Reading Club, and I think you should get Flannery’s Collected Works, read along with Mr. Rogers, and with his help, let Miss Flannery shock you into sensibility. It will not be like a sweater clad visit to a safe neighborhood. It will be a different kind of beautiful day in the neighborhood.

The first post on “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” is up, along with a discussion of the Misfit’s moral clarity, and you can listen to Miss Flannery herself read the story here.

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