Four kings vs. five

It's Boxing Day. We had a solid week of snow leading up to the 24th, followed by a warm-up and rain for the last 48 hours. I hadn't been able to see the surface of the road outside much since November, but now it's a sheet of slush with pools of water, and the odd icy patch. Here and there, gravel peeks through the slush. That doesn't sound very nice, but I'm sitting next to the wood stove, the roof is doing its job, and I have hot coffee. So really, I've got it pretty good.

I've been contemplating Genesis 14 over the last week. At this point I only have scattered observations, but I thought if I were to write them down here, it might help organize them. And of course comments from others can be very helpful!

The first time Scripture calls someone a king is Genesis 14:1. Genesis 10:9–10 tells us Nimrod had a kingdom in Shinar, so we might argue that he's the first king in Scripture, but while Genesis 10 says that Nimrod had a kingdom, it doesn't say he was a king. The first king Scripture names is Amraphel, the king of Shinar. 

Scripture portrays Shinar as the center of earthly power, starting from Nimrod. Both Babel (Genesis 10:10) and Babylon (Daniel 1:1–2) are in Shinar.  And we sometimes forget that while Babel and Babylon are generally portrayed as opposing Him, God names Nebuchadnezzar "king of kings," (Daniel 2:37) and gives him dominion over the whole earth. No doubt Scripture uses Babylon as a symbol of wickedness (Revelation 17:5, etc.), but Babylon's place at the head of Gentile authority was by divine decree (Daniel 2:37ff).

Genesis 14 names the first priest too: Melchizedek, the king of Salem (Genesis 14:18). He's both a priest and a king, and we don't have to wonder whether he prefigures Christ, because Hebrews 7:1–3 is explicit. Melchizedek is a type of Christ.

All told, there are ten kings in Genesis 14: nine are named in the first two verses (Genesis 14:1–2), and Melchizedek is named near the end (Genesis 14:18).  The first four kings (including the king of Shinar) launch quite a campaign (Genesis 14:5–9) that comes to a climax with a four-against-five battle between Chedorlaomer and his allies against the king of Sodom and his allies.

I find it interesting that Scripture specifies (Genesis 14:9) that four kings prevail over five.

I find it interesting, too, that Scripture mentions several lands that fall to the four kings: there are seven named – including the land of the Amalekites – before we read about the battle at Siddim (Genesis 14:5–8).

After the battle, Chedorlaomer and his allies loot Sodom and take the people there captive, including Lot. That prompts Abram to action. 

Genesis 14:13 tells us Abram had three allies: Mamre, Eschol, and Aner. Although Scripture tells the story as though Abram and his 318 men fought alone, we find at the end that his allies were there too (Genesis 14:24). I assume the 318 men were only Abram's household; I assume the force Abram led was something like four times that many.

Scripture doesn't tell us much about Abram's neighbors. I suspect our concept of Abram being a more-or-less isolated pilgrim is not entirely accurate. Both Genesis 14 and Genesis 23 describe friendly relations with the Canaanites. At one time I had envisioned Abram living among hostile pagans, but his allies (Genesis 14:13), Melchizedek (Genesis 14:18), and Ephron and the sons of Heth (Genesis 23:10) all seem to point to a much less hostile environment. Certainly Scripture has only good to say about Melchizedek, although Joshua destroyed his successor four hundred years later (Joshua 10:1, 22–26). 

Melchizedek is a type of Christ, Hebrews 7:1ff is explicit. Darby points out ("The Melchisedec Priesthood of Christ", Collected Writings, Volume 2, pp. 64–73) that Melchizedek is a priest who doesn't offer for sins. His priesthood is characterized not be sacrifice, but by blessing: he stands between God and man and blesses them both. And he gives Abram bread and wine, foreshadowing the Lord's feeding us with His own flesh and His own blood (John 6:47–55).

And as Darby points out, "the Most High God" is a millennial title for God. Melchizedek points forward to a millennial Christ.  I don't want to push this point too far... we think of priests as offering for sin; the Levitical priesthood seems very much to center on that. But Hebrews points us to the more excellent ministry: enabling us to draw near to God. Christ has offered for sins once, and has done it in a way that never needs another offering (Hebrews 10:1–13). But that's not all a priest does. Melchizedek points us to a need that goes beyond the offering for sins: Melchizedek doesn't offer for sins, but he's a priest nevertheless, and a greater priest than Aaron (Hebrews 7:4–6).  Aaron points to Christ's finished work, Melchizedek points to His unfinished work.

We rest in Christ's finished work, but we "press on" (Hebrews 4:14–16) as a result of His unfinished work.

Of course the error of so many Christians is confusing those two things.  We have peace with God because of what Christ has done (Romans 5:1), and we are powerless to undo that.  We err when we try to get peace with God any other way. And we err when we think having peace with God means there's no need for pressing on. There's a ditch on both sides of the road, but as Alan points out, the deeper ditch is probably the first one.

(Edited to fix some spelling and grammar mistakes, I rushed through proof-reading this one, I'm afraid)

 

Fatness

Jeremiah 11:15–20 uses the image of a green olive tree to give a prophetic picture of our Lord. The green olive tree is destroyed for the sins of the houses of Judah and Israel (Jeremiah 11:17), and the men of Israel and Judah set out to destroy him, as a lamb led to the slaughter (Jeremiah 11:19). 

This isn't the only place where the image of a green olive tree is used to describe the Lord Jesus. We've talked before about Deuteronomy 24:19–21, Hosea 14:6–7, and Psalm 52:8–9. It's not the most common image, but it shows up a few times.

If we want to understand how the people of the Old Testament understood the image of an olive tree, we can turn back to Jotham's parable in Judges 9:7–20. In his parable, the trees offer the kingdom first to the olive tree, and it replies,  "Should I leave my fatness, wherewith by me they honour God and man, and go to wave over the trees?" (Judges 9:9). So we understand that – at least to the people in Old Testament times – the olive tree represents fatness. And we understand that fatness to be a blessing to both God and man.

J. N. Darby points out that Melchisidec doesn't offer for sin ("The Melchisidec Priesthood of Christ", Collected Writings, Volume 2, pp. 64–73). Instead, his priesthood is characterized by standing between God and man and blessing both. I don't mean to say, of course, that our Lord did not offer for sins. But the fact remains that the greatest priest in the Old Testament – indeed the first priest Scripture mentions – is not offering for sin, but blessing both God and man.

It's reasonable to say that the Levitical priesthood prefigures Christ offering for sin, and is thus characteristic of His first coming. But Melchisidec's priesthood prefigures Christ in a more permanent ministry: sin having been put away, He continues to bless both God and man.

The image of the olive tree is like that of Melchisidec, but it reveals a different facet. It's not only the Priest who can bless both God and man – by the olive tree's "fatness," others ("they") can too.  There is a ministry for us here.

I heard one brother say something to the effect that our first and highest calling is to bless God (Ephesians 1:3ff). I have no doubt he's correct. And I have no doubt that we have a ministry in proclaiming the Gospel to lost sinners. But I think there is another ministry too: there is a ministry of blessing lost men and women, regardless whether they repent.

I recognize there's a danger here of a "social gospel" that leaves the Cross behind. But that danger shouldn't be an excuse for us not to be a blessing to those around us, even if only in this life.

And to be clear: I don't believe we can claim to be blessing man by the olive tree's fatness if we leave the olive tree behind. The "social gospel" and its ilk are characterized by a Christ-less, Cross-less, God-less "christianity." Sadly, people seem to fall for that. But it's not a gospel at all, it's an anti-gospel. "You don't need Christ" isn't a meaningful message, but it's exactly the message that progressive Christianity seems to preach.

God is kind, and is kind to His creation. He blesses in big ways (forgiveness of sins, eternal life), but in small ways too (see Acts 14:15–17). He gives rain both to the just and to the unjust (Matthew 5:45). We, too, should be a blessing to those around us. But we don't pretend we have anything to offer the fallen world that isn't from and through and because of Christ.

Masters and employees

As long as I can remember, I've heard Christians teach "how Christians should behave in the workplace" lessons from the Epistles' instructions to slaves and masters. I really cannot count the number of times I've heard someone say, "We don't have slavery today, but these verses apply to employees and employers too."

Do they?  I've never heard anyone quote 1 Corinthians 7:21 in connection with being an employee.  I keep wondering how that would apply. Would that mean something like, "If you are employed, and you have an opportunity to be unemployed, take it?"  Possibly that would mean something like, "If you have an opportunity to be self-employed, take it." But I prefer the first reading, to be honest. I mean, there are some days...

Still, it's remarkable how quickly people forget their let's-apply-this-to-employees rule of interpretation when they get to 1 Corinthians 7:21. I can't recall anyone ever bringing it up. That seems dishonest.

I'm not saying there's nothing to be learned from reading through the instructions to slaves and masters in the Epistles. I'm not even saying that there are no applications to be made to employees. I am saying that a need to find some sort of application to ourselves in the text every Sunday is fundamental error, and will lead to all sorts of trouble.

As a very simple example, let's start with Galatians 4:1ff. Are we really to believe that an underage child is, "no better than an employee?" Would we take anyone seriously who said something like that?

The fact is that Scripture very carefully distinguishes free men and women from slaves, and it does so with purpose. Christ hasn't set us free to be slaves (Galatians 5:1). Scripture doesn't confound employment with slavery, and neither should we. It's unrighteous.

At the root of many evangelical errors is the notion that there must be a modern-day equivalent for everything in the Scriptures. If we take that perspective, we end up wreaking all sorts of havoc with the context of each verse. All Scripture is breathed by God, but not all applies to me. There is something to be learned from all of it, and in all of it. But a desperate attempt to read myself into Scripture will lead into chaos.

Here's an idea, if we must read ourselves into those master-and-slave verses, why not do it from the perspective that we are God's slaves? That has the advantage that it's expressly taught in Scripture (Romans 6:19, Romans 14:4, 1 Corinthians 7:22). And it might be interesting to see how Christ is the perfect Master (and, for that matter, the perfect Slave). And it might be useful to consider Paul's own life as a "slave of Christ Jesus" (Romans 1:1). 

The Scriptures are written around Christ (John 5:39–40), not around me.  Trying to find a way to "apply this to our lives" is frequently just code for finding a way to put ourselves at the center.