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.

 

Part of an elect nation

Dispensationalists frequently defend their view by saying something like, "God has made promises to Israel that He has not fulfilled. Therefore we trust that He will fulfill them at some future date." That seems to be a recurring theme among dispensationalists. And I agree with that whole-heartedly.

At the same time, I recognize that there is an issue we need to address in this argument. There is an elephant in the room.  When we consider Romans 9–11, we find that Scripture also recognizes there's an issue. The issue is something like this: we know that God has made promises to Israel that went unfulfilled to those specific people. For example, very few of the children of Israel that came out of Egypt made it into the promised land. Most of them died in the wilderness.

So did God really fulfill His promise to them?

Romans 9:6–8 addresses this question with the assertion that, "not all [are] Israel which [are] of Israel; nor because they are seed of Abraham [are] all children."  So this is a guiding principle when it comes to God's election: it's possible to be part of an elect people, without being an elect individual. Notice Romans 9:15 quotes Exodus 33:19. That's the story of the golden calf, the first time the Scripture talks about Israelites falling in the wilderness.

That's a point worth repeating: it's possible to be part of a chosen nation and not yourself be chosen. 

So when it comes to Israel, dispensationalists calmly assert that God will, indeed, restore Israel, but that doesn't mean that any specific Jewish person will be included in that.  And I fully agree with that statement.

Of course this has application to us. If we object to amillennialism on the grounds that we believe God can be trusted, then surely we need to consider carefully how His trustworthiness is displayed in light of Romans 9–11. Which is a really clumsy way of saying, if it's possible for individual Israelites to fall short of what God promised the nation, is it also possible for individual Christians to fall short of what God promised the church?

Without diving too deep into controversy, let's just say that everyone who has been baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit has a claim to call themselves "Christian." That doesn't mean everyone baptized has been born again, or that they're truly regenerated. But it's reasonable for them to think of themselves as Christian.  And we shouldn't make the mistake of thinking all of the unregenerate baptized were baptized as infants!

And we don't really even need to talk in terms of baptism. What about those who were born into Christian homes and so think they're Christians? What about those who grew up in Sunday school, but were never born again?  I really don't think they're entirely wrong to think of themselves as "Christian."  But it doesn't at all mean they're born again.

So yes, there are lots of people who are part of the elect nation, but aren't themselves elect.

When the Lord Jesus spoke to Nicodemus, He told him point-blank, "you must be born anew" (John 3:3–8). There's no question that Nicodemus was part of the elect nation, but he still needed new birth.

So if you're part of an elect nation, if you were baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, you still need to be born again.  The question for you isn't, "Was I baptized?" The question for you is, "Do you believe God?" Because in the end, God justifies the one who does not work, but believes (Romans 4:5).

And notice, Scripture doesn't tell us we have to be sure we're elect before we come to Christ. 

By exactly the same token, Scripture doesn't say that God justifies the one who can remember a conversion experience. It says God justifies the one who believes. So let's not fall into the trap of telling people they need to have a "salvation experience." 

But the fact remains, being part of the elect nation doesn't mean that you will receive that God has promised. God doesn't work that way: it's the children of promise, not the children of flesh, who receive what He promises (Romans 9:8). 

 

Caricatures Abound

Somehow I missed John MacArthur's series, "Why Every Calvinist Should Be a Premillennialist" when it came out. I found a reference to it on the testing 5-2-1 blog, and thought it would be a worthwhile listen. Was it ever! It was a remarkably good sermon series. I've listened to it twice now.

But...

In the first message, he talks about J. N. Darby (the transcript is available here), and it wasn't the most flattering. He didn't hit too hard on Darby, but his tone toward dispensationalists was more than a little dismissive.

Now, it's fair to point out that dispensationalism became (or maybe "has become") a nesting place for some of the unclean birds he mentions: newspaper exegesis, and Revelation 9 helicopters are two examples he gives. And I'll agree with him that those are wrong. It seems obvious to me that a lot of credibility was lost by some of that.

At the same time, to accuse dispensationalists of teaching "two ways of salvation" is a caricature at best, slander at the worst. And to be clear: MacArthur's not the only one I've heard make that accusation in the last year. 

I don't own a Scofield Bible, so I'm not going to attempt to defend it. I don't go in for Scofield-ism myself, I think it's a little brittle. But I've read a whole lot of Darby's writing, and he absolutely did not teach two ways of salvation. In fact, I'm pretty sure he didn't teach seven dispensations either.

I've mentioned before that the first big effect reading Darby had on me was to push me away from Scofield's dispensationalism.

For whatever reason (and I can think of a few), people love to beat on Darby. Oddly enough, it's hard to find someone with strong opinions on Darby who has read more than a snippet in a pull quote. I suppose he's in good company: people like to expound scripture without apparently reading it too.

So no, much as I think MacArthur makes some excellent points, his caricature of Darby seems to have nothing but the name in common with the man himself.

It's self-evident from his writings (especially his letters) that Darby didn't always think too hard before he acted. "Brethren" love to talk about how he never married, thinking he would be more effective as a single man. Twenty-five years after I first started reading him seriously, I've come to the conclusion that marriage would have been an improvement: it might have taught him to think first.

But even while I lament he acted terribly at times, I have to say he is one of my heroes. Why? Because I have never read, or heard from, or spoken to another person who bowed to Scripture and treated it like God's actual words like J. N. Darby did. 

Maybe Martin Luther. Maybe.

What I learn from J. N. Darby's writings is that Scripture is not only infallible, but it's also sufficient. The latter is what I see so lacking amongst all Christians. We all agree that Scripture is infallible, but very few seem to think it's sufficient. We all long to go back to Rome and have co-authorities with God's words. But Darby held tenaciously to Romans 3:4, "let God be true and every man false."  Darby recognized what others simply cannot accept: that the Word of God doesn't need help.

I've mentioned Kelly before, he was one of the campus chaplains when I was a student. Kelly once told me a story he'd heard from someone else: 

Imagine you're lying in bed at night and someone kicks in your door. You grab your pistol from the nightstand and point it at the housebreaker, who tells you he doesn't believe that gun can stop him. Guns don't actually work, he says, they're just a myth. What do you do? Do you try to explain ballistics to him? or do you just squeeze the trigger?

That's a pretty telling scenario. I'm afraid Christians as a whole have been trying to explain ballistics my whole life, when they should just have been squeezing the trigger.

Darby understood that in a way perhaps even someone like William Kelly didn't.

If people really heeded the word of God, and took simply from Scripture what Scripture states, such things would never be said.

Nor do I talk about private judgment on such things; between man and man that is all very well, reasonable enough, but do you think if God has spoken to me, I am to talk of private judgment on what He has said?

Why, it is blasphemy.

I can understand an unbeliever not knowing what is God's mind, and reasoning about what is written; but man by reasoning never got faith at all; and man's reason is perfectly incompetent to judge about God and His words.

If my mind could judge about God, then God is the subject matter, and my mind is the master of the subject matter.

It is a mistake altogether. You want a word from God to reach conscience, that is the first thing. I grant you man's mind is the measure of all the truth he can have, but the first thing I want is a hammer upon conscience.

Suppose I knock you down, does it not make an impression upon you? You are acted upon. This is what conscience needs. But people think it must be the activity of their own minds.

I do not take a candle out to see if the sun is shining!

("Detached Memoranda from a Reading Meeting")

 

So while I hope I act with more prudence than Johnny D., I aspire to his view of Scripture, his knowledge of it, and his earnest zeal in searching it.

The Good Shepherd

It's easy for us to miss how remarkable the Lord's claim in John 10:11ff is. We find the imagery of the Good Shepherd striking: I suspect Sunday School artwork has something to do with that. But the Lord was addressing people who knew the Old Testament very well indeed, and His claim would be astonishing – even offensive – to them in light of the book of Ezekiel.

Ezekiel 34 is a treatise on the worthless shepherds of Israel. They fed themselves, and not the flock (Ezekiel 34:2–3). They didn't care for the sick or the injured, but they ruled harshly over them (Ezekiel 34:4). The sheep were scattered, and they didn't go looking for them (Ezekiel 34:5). 

And so God presents His solution: He would tend the flock (Ezekiel 34:11). He would go and find them, and gather them (Ezekiel 34:11–13). He would pasture them on the mountains, He would feed them, He would make them lie down (Ezekiel 34:14–15). 

He would put a shepherd over them (Ezekiel 34:25).

If we read John 10:11–18 with Ezekiel 34 in the back of our mind, it takes on different depth. The Lord's claims aren't as whimsical as we might think. His use of the shepherd imagery isn't something new He came up with: He's picking up the thread of the prophets, and making a remarkable claim.

First, Ezekiel 34:25 makes the claim that God would put a shepherd over Israel. Ezekiel identifies that shepherd as David, the Lord takes the title for Himself. He is effectively saying, "I'm the David God has appointed to rule over you."

But if we contemplate Ezekiel a little more carefully, we might recognize that the Lord's claims go beyond the title of the coming David. The coming David will feed them, but the Lord claims not merely to feed, but to gather them (John 10:16). It's not David who gathers in Ezekiel 34, but God Himself.

The Good Shepherd in Ezekiel 34, is God Himself.

 

 

Deep waters

Psalm 69 is the first Messianic Psalm I remember noticing. I think an older brother quoted it in prayer during the Lord's Supper one morning when I was in high school. At any rate, I think of Psalm 69 and Psalm 102 as the iconic Messianic Psalms. To be fair, I tend to see almost all the Psalms as Messianic in at least some sense, but that's a whole different topic.

The Psalm is addressed to the Chief Musician, which is generally a good indication that it's Messianic. I haven't found an exception to that rule yet. 

The opening plea is for God to save, because "the waters have come in unto my soul" (Psalm 69:1–3).

At the risk of sounding glib, it seems to me that there is a commentary on these verses in Song of Solomon:

Many waters cannot quench love, Neither do the floods drown it: Even if a man gave all the substance of his house for love, It would utterly be contemned. (Song of Solomon 8:7)

There is something profound in the statement that everything a man has is worthless in exchange for love. It took me a long time to realize what that verse is actually saying is, "give everything you own for love, it's still not enough."  

So when the Son of God gave Himself for us (Galatians 2:19–21), we understand that He measured up to this statement. It was Himself He gave, as opposed to anything He possessed.

But of course the connection between Psalm 69:1ff and Song of Solomon 8:7 lies in the "many waters." In Psalm 69, they are a threat that overwhelms, destroys, and eventually kills. But in Song of Solomon, we're assured they're not enough to quench love.

 The Lord loved us and gave Himself for us. That's an astonishing thing to remember. And it bears remembering that He thinks it was a good deal. Imagine that! Isaiah 53:11 tells us that God will look at the result of His giving Himself for us and "be satisfied."