Fearing God

We remember that Joseph told his brothers, "I fear God" (Genesis 42:18). We remember as well that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 9:10). Job goes a little further and says that the fear of the Lord is wisdom (Job 28:28).

It can be argued that the first time Scripture mentions fearing God is Genesis 3:10. Adam heard God walking in the garden, and he was afraid and hid. 

The second time would be Genesis 20:11, where Abraham says, "Surely the fear of God is not in this place, and they will kill me for my wife's sake."  We'll come back to this story, but for now let's note that Abraham's assessment of Gerar echoes the description in Romans, "there is no fear of God before their eyes" (Romans 3:18). 

Just two chapters later Abraham is commended because he feared God and did not withhold his son (Genesis 22:12).

So we can think about the fear of God in two different ways. Maybe we could say there are two different kinds of fear of God. (Or, if you will, we can think of two different ways to fear God.) On the one hand there is a fear of God that Adam had. James tells us the demons have this sort of fear (James 2:19). Hebrews talks about this sense of fear: "a certain fearful expectation of judgment" (Hebrews 10:26–27). And we might consider John's words here: "he that fears has not been made perfect in love" (1 John 4:18).

On the other hand, there is the fear of God that Abraham had (Genesis 22:12). That seems to be the sort of fear that Joseph had (Genesis 42:18). That sort of fear is the beginning of wisdom. That sort of fear is not only commended (Genesis 22:12), it's also worthy of pursuit (Proverbs 2:1–5). We ought to be working hard to learn to fear the Lord.

Years ago I read through Luther's Small Catechism. I expect still have that volume around here somewhere. I haven't looked at it in forever, so I won't make any comment on it except to say the one thing I remember is how the phrase "We should love and fear God" is repeated in that book over and over again. That combination is important: it means we're fearing God in an Abraham-ish way, not an Adam-ish way.

So it's possible to fear and hate God. That's exactly what James tells us the demons do. And it's possible to love and fear God, that's what Proverbs urges us to do. 

With that distinction in mind, what can we say about this second kind of fear? What can we say about Abraham's fear of God, as opposed to Adam's?

First, I think it's a mistake to try and soften the word "fear." I have heard many, many Christians try to do exactly that: they tell us that "fear of the Lord" really means "reverential awe." I understand why they do that: they're trying to avoid Adam-ish fear.  But it's difficult to reconcile that with everything Scripture says.

The Lord Jesus said, "be not afraid of those who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul; but fear rather him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell" (Matthew 10:28). Notice the context here: He's not addressing the crowds, He's addressing the disciples (Matthew 10:2–5), and He refers to God as "your Father" in the very next verse (Matthew 10:29).  He's not pronouncing judgment on sinners here, but He connects fearing God with God's ability to destroy the soul as well as the body.

In other words, this isn't just a "reverential awe," this is real fear.

Second, we might point out that everyone will fear God eventually. Whether we fear God Adam's way or Abraham's, we'll eventually fear God. Every knee will bow, every tongue will confess (Philippians 2:9–11). There's real fear in that: not all those knees want to bow, and not all those tongues want to confess, but they will.

So if we're all going to fear God eventually, we might want to consider whether we should fear Him like Adam did, or like Abraham did. Do we want 1 John 4:18 fear, or do we want Proverbs 9:10 fear?

Scripture insists the the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. While I'm sure there's more to it than this, at a minimum that seems to mean that it's very wise to fear God. Knowing what to do in any given situation (wisdom) starts with knowing God sees all and judges all (Proverbs 5:21, Proverbs 15:3). 

That same idea comes out in the New Testament too: "we must all be manifested before the judgment-seat of the Christ, that each may receive the things [done] in the body, according to those he has done, whether [it be] good or evil" (2 Corinthians 5:10). And the consequence of that knowledge is in the very next verse, "knowing therefore the terror of the Lord" (2 Corinthians 5:11). So at least as far as the Apostles were concerned, there is a "terror" of the Lord. We would do well to remember this.

Romans 3:10–18 is a lengthy quote from Psalm 14 and Psalm 53. The next verse (Romans 3:19) makes the chilling statement that what the Law says, it says to those under it. So we might read Romans 3:10–18 as the condemnation of the nations, but Paul reads it as the condemnation of those who had the Law. And what does he say? He says there is no fear of God before their eyes. Paul says the same thing about those who had the Scriptures that Abraham says about Gerar.

I'm afraid it's very easy for us to look at the Gospels and see ourselves in the disciples, when we should be seeing ourselves in the Pharisees and the Sadducees. It's very possible for us to miss that we, like they, have the revelation of God (the Scriptures), and we, like they, use it as a sort of a shield from God Himself. We use the Scriptures to excuse our sins, hide them, and make excuses for ourselves. We're awfully like the Pharisees that way.

That's not fearing God.

Now, we naturally think that if we love God, we won't fear Him. I don't think that's true at all. It might be worth giving an illustration here. I live on a homestead in the middle of nowhere. Part of living in the middle of nowhere is that I get to use axes, chainsaws, and guns all pretty frequently. I truly enjoy using all three, but I also have a healthy fear of all three. To be honest, I fear the chainsaw a whole lot more than I fear the guns, but that's a whole other discussion. 

And it's not just some vague sense of "respect" or "reverential awe." I fear the chainsaw because I could very easily lose a hand. I fear the guns for similar reasons. But the effect of fearing those things isn't that I avoid them, or cower in fear. I love all three of those things, and I revel in every chance I get to use them.

But I don't use them wantonly or carelessly. I fear them too much for that.

That's not a perfect illustration of the fear of the Lord, but it might help us fumble toward a better understanding. We're not called to fear God and hide from Him: we're called to fear God and love Him. The fear is real, but so is the love.

I truly believe that it's possible for us to love God (or to think we love God) without fearing Him. But I believe just as firmly it's not possible for us to know God without fearing Him. This is worth contemplating.

This isn't exactly what Job did  – we're told right in the first verse that Job feared God (Job 1:1). Nevertheless when Job actually met God – actually talked to God – he came away from that conversation a changed man, "I had heard of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth thee: wherefore I abhor [myself], and repent in dust and ashes" (Job 42:5–6). It's striking that Scripture doesn't tell us any sin Job commits, but Job's response to seeing God is repentance. 

If I say I love God but don't fear Him, then it's perfectly right for you to ask, "have you ever actually met God?" because without exception, everyone in Scripture who meets God experiences fear. 

And that's the point I guess I've been stumbling towards. If we fear God, it's evident in our words and our actions. If we don't, then we should really ask ourselves how close we've gotten to Him. 

Cain's religion

Every once in a while someone writes an article or posts a YouTube video or gives a talk about how we ought to dress for worship. I've heard and seen and read a lot of those over the last thirty or so years. I generally hold my tongue on this topic, except maybe to rant a bit to my wife or to a close friend. But I think it's a good time to make some comments about that where other people can find them.

I'm much less interested in how people dress for worship than I am in the way these questions touch on certain principles. So let's try and get to the "question behind the question" by the most direct route.

It seems to me that a whole lot of what people say about our attire in the gatherings is really Cain's religion: it's offering God what He does not want and did not ask for, while ignoring His commands (Genesis 4:1–7, Jude 1:11).  It's giving God what I think He ought to want, not what He says He wants. 

There are very few guidelines for how we are to dress for worship. As far as I can tell, the New Testament lays down only three:

1. we are to dress modestly, not displaying wealth (1 Timothy 2:9, 1 Peter 3:3–6)
2. men are to have their heads uncovered (1 Corinthians 11:1–8)
3. women are to cover their heads (1 Corinthians 11:1–8)

It's a pretty short list, but I have trouble finding anything else in the New Testament. We might look at James 2:1–9, but I think that's really more about how we react to people based on their appearance. It's not entirely unrelated, but it's not quite the same thing.

 

If we look back into the Old Testament, we don't find much more. We might consider the Lord's words to Samuel, that we look at outward appearance, but God looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). I'm not sure to what extent that applies to how we dress, but I suppose we might consider it a general principle.

So really,  Scripture doesn't have that much to say about how we dress. And that seems odd to me, because there are plenty of people willing to take very dogmatic stances on the topic. Even more odd, I can't recall hearing or reading a single person whose teaching on the topic cited what little Scripture does says.

1 Timothy 2:9 and 1 Peter 3:3–6 condemn dressing with ostentatious displays of wealth. I'm sure I'm not the only person who has seen preachers who dress like bankers, and it strikes me as strange. Haven't they read the epistles? Do they think they're above bowing to Scripture? Do they think 1 Timothy and 1 Peter don't apply to them? The epistles seem pretty clear in their condemnation of overdressing.

1 Corinthians 11:1–8 tells us men are to come into God's presence with their heads uncovered, while women are to cover their heads. I've been involved in many gatherings that practice this (to at least some extent), but I've worshipped with many more Christians who seem entirely ignorant of what Scripture has to say in this regard. It doesn't seem quite so common for men to cover their heads during worship as it is for women to go uncovered, but I've seen both.

Again, it strikes me as odd that someone who'd come up with all sorts of reasons we should dress a certain way to worship would then pass over one of the very few commands we do have. But in my experience it's very rare for someone preaching or teaching (or even ranting) on the topic of attire to mention 1 Corinthians 11:1–8, even obliquely.  

I suppose it's the whole issue of women covering their heads that really makes me scratch mine. The same people who seem to quail at the idea that we'd just say what the Holy Spirit says – that women are to cover their heads in God's presence – are then willing to bemoan our "casual culture" and demand Christians dress differently on Sunday than they do the rest of the week. Isn't that odd? They dismiss the express commands of the New Testament on the grounds that "that's a different culture" then they turn right around and urge Christians to ignore this culture and dress better. So which is it? 

If you're comfortable demanding men wears suits to meeting, but you're uncomfortable telling women to cover their heads, you ought to examine yourself very carefully. You are acting like Cain.

It seems hard-wired in fallen men and women that we are willing to do what we think God ought to want, but we're not so willing to take Him at His word and do what He has said. We're like Naaman (2 Kings 5:13): we'd gladly do some great thing for God, but we really don't want to do what He commands. 

And don't let's think this is limited to attire. It's exactly what's behind every works-based "gospel". 

It seems to me an effective antidote to the religion of Cain lies in three short words that Joseph said to his brothers: "I fear God" (Genesis 42:18). It seems to me that at the root of Cain's religion is the idea that I know better than God: that I have every right to judge what He says and does and thinks. What Scripture calls wisdom is just the opposite: it starts with fearing God.

It's very easy for us to soft-pedal the fear of God – especially we who lean more "free grace." We are very aware of the dangers of legalism – and with good cause! – but we should be careful not to allow ourselves to use Galatians as an excuse to ignore 2 Corinthians 5. We are all going to stand at the Judgment Seat of Christ. The effect of that on Paul was, "knowing therefore the terror of the Lord..." (2 Corinthians 5:11). The Lord Jesus taught, "fear rather him who is able to destroy both soul and body in hell" (Matthew 10:28). We ought to be very careful about softening what Scripture says about fearing God: it's not just an Old Testament truth!

If I were to fear God – truly say, "I fear God" like Joseph did – I'd be very reluctant to put my own words in place of His. I'd be very cautious about suggesting a dress code for meeting that wasn't based solidly in 1 Timothy 2 and 1 Peter 3 and 1 Corinthians 11. I'd be very cautious about any hint of a suggestion of putting words in God's mouth, because I'd be very aware that I would have to answer for that someday.

And frankly, we have a glut of so-called preachers and teachers who seem entirely unconcerned about ever being called to account for what they teach and preach (James 3:1).

Is there a problem with casual behavior in the church? Yes! Yes, there is. We really do need to be shaken up and reminded that judgment begins in the house of God (1 Peter 4:17). We ought not to wander into the place where Christians are worshipping with a glib, casual attitude. But let's don't think we can remedy that with an equally irreverent and Cain-ish teaching that substitutes our own words for God's. Don't let's think we can put our own words in God's mouth and He won't mind too much.

Psalm 107

 I know I've mentioned the 107th Psalm already, probably more than once. I won't make any apologies for repeating myself in this case: I can't see any other way to understand the final verse (Psalm 107:43) than a call to meditate, ruminate, and mull over the chapter.

Berlin once described Psalm 107 something like, "various ways we get ourselves into trouble and God delivers." That's a horrible misquote, but you get the idea. Psalm 107 tells us about how our own foolishness, sin, and weakness get us into hopeless situations, but God can deliver us from them. And He does.

Psalm 107:10 has special meaning to me. I recognize in myself someone who has "spurned the counsel of the Most High" (ESV). And I'm not alone: I know many people who "rebelled against the words of God" (ESV) and found themselves trapped as a result.

Psalm 107:17 strikes some similar notes, "[f]ools, because of their way of transgression, and because of their iniquities, are afflicted." I suppose all of us have been that sort of fool, at least once or twice in our lives.

I expect all of us know someone (or perhaps several someones) who fall into these verses. We know people who are bound in affliction and iron because they rebelled against the words of God, or they're afflicted because of their transgressions and foolishnesses. Let's not stop praying for them. We sometimes find our best attempts to help will come to naught, but God delivers fools and rebels.

And if we're in one of those rare moments when things are actually going well, when we're not currently trapped in our own sins and folly... Then let's not forget, "Whoso is wise, let him observe these things" (Psalm 107:43). There is tremendous wisdom (and we all need wisdom!) in coming to understand the lovingkindness of the Lord.

Gatekeeping Salvation

Galatians 5:11 talks about "the scandal of the Cross." The Cross of Christ is offensive for many reasons, not least is the shame crucifixion carried in the ancient world. The Son of God put to open shame is offensive, scandalizing.

Galatians 6:12–14 sheds some light on another sense of scandal. It is the natural desire of all of us to "boast in [our] flesh," and the Cross of Christ attacks that at its root. "[F]ar be it from me to boast save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ," stands in contrast to boasting in the flesh. The latter attempts to find something in ourselves for God, the former sees that Christ is our only righteousness.

That's worth meditation. It's far easier for fallen men and women to say "Christ is my righteousness" than it is for us to say "Christ is my only righteousness." The first leaves a small opening for us to add our own righteousnesses to Him. The second is an acknowledgement that nothing I can do, and nothing in me, can add anything to what Christ has done for me. His death is my only hope for salvation before God, and there is nothing I can do that can add to that.

As far as I know, every Protestant claims to condemn the idea of an act of supererogation. But that idea seems to lurk just below the surface in our hearts. We all secretly cherish the belief that there's something we can do that will just sort of round out the righteousness of God by faith (Romans 3:21–22). 

We can't quite accept that God justifies the one who does not work, but believes (Romans 4:5). We all want to add some sort of qualifier to that statement. And we betray ourselves when we act as a sort of gatekeeper of salvation: when we say something like, "I just don't see that he can be saved and act like that."

What we're really saying is, "I wouldn't ever do that!"  It's the same thing the Pharisees did (Luke 18:9). 

As far as I can tell, "God be merciful to me, a sinner!" (Luke 18:9–14) is one prayer He always answers (Romans 10:8–13). 

Still, there is the question of how we should think about someone who makes some sort of profession of faith and yet appears to live in sin. The Pharisaic approach is clearly wrong, but there is some Scriptural support for the notion that a life of continued sin indicates a lack of new birth. On the other hand, Scripture contemplates a true believer who doesn't act like one. We should consider both of these.

1 John 3:8–10 is one of the tests Scripture gives: whoever has been born of God does not practice sin. Well, that seems pretty straightforward, but it raises some questions. Is sinning the same thing as practicing sin? In other words, does this mean that anyone who sins is not born of God? Or does it mean something like, anyone who sins deliberately is not born of God? Or does it mean something like, anyone who lives in long-term, unrepentant sin is not born of God? All three of these answers will give us some difficulty.

First, there is no doubt that true believers sin, and 1 John addresses that directly (1 John 1:7–2:2). It's clear from 1 John 1:7 that the one walking in the light still needs cleansing from sin. It's clear that Christ Jesus is our advocate if we sin (1 John 2:2). So no, the idea that a true believer lives in sinless perfection is contradicted in 1 John.

Second, the distinction between "deliberate" and "unintentional" sin in Scripture is real. This is the main difference between the sin offering in Leviticus 4:1ff and the trespass offering in Leviticus 5:1ff. The sin offering is for sins of inadvertence, the trespass offering is for deliberate sins, like defrauding one's neighbor, or giving false testimony (Leviticus 6:1ff). So that's a real thing.

But to make 1 John 3:8ff about inadvertent sin is to ignore passages like 1 Corinthians 5:1ff. Do we really want to say the man and woman committing incest in Corinth were doing it inadvertently? Like, they didn't notice it at the time? But at least the man was repentant after the fact (2 Corinthians 7:8ff). Do we really think he was born of God in the interval between 1 Corinthians 5 and 2 Corinthians 7?  We might look at Galatians 2:11ff too: was Peter not yet regenerated when he denied the Gospel by his actions towards the Gentiles?

So no, 1 John 3:8ff is not about deliberate sins as opposed to unintentional sins.       

Third, making 1 John 3:8ff about the "practise" of sin gives us some difficulty with Romans 7:14–21. There we have the positive statement that a man who is regenerated practices sin, even though he abhors it. In fact, "practise" is used five times in that passage: four times in the context of practicing sin, once in the context of practicing righteousness.

Romans 7:14ff gives us some context to help us understand 1 John 3:8ff. It's not that the true believer doesn't sin, nor that the true believer doesn't intentionally sin, nor even that the true believer can't go on in a sinful way for a very long time, practicing sin. The big question is, does he or she abhor it? Does that person look at his or her actions, see they don't measure up, and then just shrug and go on? Or does that person struggle with sin?

(As an aside, I do not take the more Reformed position that Romans 7:7ff describes what we might call the "normal Christian life." I think Darby is fundamentally correct in his understanding that Romans 7:5–6 describes a transition from "when we were in the flesh" (v. 5) to "now we are clear from the law" (v. 6). And I agree that Romans 7:7ff is the fuller description of "when we were in the flesh," while Romans 8:1ff is the fuller description of "now we are clear from the law." So yes, I agree with Darby that Romans 7:7ff is not normal Christianity. But I would be quick to add the Romans 8:13 warns us that it's always possible to end up back in that same place, even once we have experienced the deliverance of Romans 8.)

So while we might look at 1 John 3 and see in it a simple test, there are other passages to consider. True believers can certainly "practise" sin, Romans 7 is explicit. True believers can deliberately sin, Galatians 2 makes that clear. True believers can fall into sin in their daily walk, 1 John 1 contemplates this exact scenario. 

While I would caution against glibly accepting that anyone who is living in [apparently] unrepentant sin is a believer, I would also say that 1 John 3:8ff is no call to our being gatekeepers of salvation.

Bear in mind, too, there might be any number of people looking at you and thinking the same thing. 

This probably ties in more with the notion of inadvertent sin, but it's worth a mention here. Let me start with an example: I am convinced that it's sin to eat blood. It is forbidden several places in Scripture (Genesis 9:1ff, Leviticus 17:10ff, Acts 15:19–20). It is forbidden to Noah and his sons (which certainly includes us), to Israel under the Law, and to Gentile believers in the Church. There are several Christian groups who don't seem to have a problem with eating blood, as evidenced by the fact that blood pudding, black pudding, and blood sausage survive still in Christendom. So all those Presbyterians and Anglicans who eat black pudding – as far as I can tell – are living in inadvertent sin. In fact, they're practicing that sin. But you don't see me telling them they're unregenerate. And I don't believe that means they're unregenerate, even though I am fully convinced they are continuing in sin.

My point, of course, is that every one who sets him or herself up as a gatekeeper of salvation brings condemnation on him- or herself. Do you see something in someone else's life that makes you certain they're not born again? Don't be blind to the fact that there's probably something in your life that makes someone else certain you're not regenerate either.

And no, I am not saying we should all just say, "I'm OK, you're OK." That's not at all my point.

My point is that when our first reaction to seeing sin in someone's life is to question their justification, regeneration, or salvation, then we are acting in practical Pharisaism. We are deceiving ourselves about our own sinfulness. We are forgetting how lost we really are. We are presuming on God's grace, while (at least mentally) denying that He can have that same grace on someone else.

Authorities

I've been thinking a lot about authority this year, which has led to contemplating Biblicism and Systematic Theology. I'm sharing some (probably incomplete) thoughts here, at least partly so I can refer to them later. 

Rodger has reminded me that everyone develops some sort of systematic theology. We can't help it: God has made us culture-creating people, and theology is part of that. That's probably an important fact to keep in mind. Whether you read it in a book or develop it as you read through the Scriptures, you will end up with some kind of systematic theology. And to be honest, the theology you read in a book is likely much better thought out than the one you develop yourself.

On the other hand, if God had wanted to give us a systematic theology, He could have. But He did not. He gave us the scriptures: a collection of texts from several different writers, in different languages, written at different times and in different styles and of different genres. What God gave us does contain some doctrinal text, but that is a very small minority of the total words He gave us. The scriptures are a collection of poetry, history, narrative (which includes history, but certainly isn't all history), prophecy (some of which is pretty plain, some is very obscure), personal letters, and even a love song. We must not approach God's word with the idea that it's primarily a legal text, or a doctrinal text, or even a history text. It contains all of those things, but it's not merely any of them.

This, to me, is a real issue with our developing theologies: so many Christians talk like the scripture is a collection of raw ingredients whose purpose is to be turned into a final product. As though their theologies are somehow an improved form of the words God has spoken. Let's say right now that the word of God is of infinitely more value that any understanding of it you or I might have (Proverbs 30:5–6). 

We seem incapable of not allowing our theologies to displace Scripture in our own minds. I've mentioned before that "helpful tool" becomes "interpretative framework" and then "replacement for Scripture" very quickly. There is, I'm sure, an application of "leaning on our own understanding" (Proverbs 3:5–6) in that. 

Scripture speaks very highly of the fear of the Lord. It is the beginning of knowledge (Proverbs 1:7), the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 9:10), and even the summation of wisdom (Job 28:28). The Lord speaks highly of the man "who trembles at my word" (Isaiah 66:1–5). The Lord Jesus accused the Pharisees of nullifying the word of God by "the traditions of men" (Matthew 15:3–9; Mark 7:1–13).  I have seen that play out many times.

I was talking to a man a few years ago who was telling me about a church where the pastor was an excellent Bible teacher, but they fall into error because "they didn't have the Creeds." Whatever he meant to say, what he actually said was the the Creeds are capable of protecting us from error where God's own words are not. Whether or not saying something like that is actual sin, it certainly is not the fear of the Lord. 

Many years ago, someone told me that he was quite comfortable disallowing speaking in tongues in the church despite 1 Corinthians 14:39. He said the context of 1 Corinthians 14 is clearly at the start of the present dispensation, and we are past the point of the Lord working through those things. That may or may not be true, but it's indisputable that 1 Corinthians 14:39 commands not to forbid speaking in tongues. I cannot see his position as anything other than deliberate disobedience to the word of God. 

I've noticed a tendency to refer to the parable of the Sower as the "parable of the soils."  I mentioned this before. While we don't want to make someone a transgressor for a word, the fact is that the Lord Jesus told many parables, and the parable of the sower is the only one He named. So if we want to refer to the parable of the Prodigal Son as "the parable of the Forgiving Father," we're really just replacing one man-made name with another. But "the parable of the Sower" is the title Christ Himself gave to that particular story. To give it another name – even for what seems like a good reason – implies the Lord got the name wrong when He named it. Again, this might not be actual sin, but it's not the fear of the Lord.

Those three examples are from my own experience, and they're from people with widely varying theologies. So it's not like there's a problem with "their" theology but not "ours." Every theology becomes an excuse for us to ignore the words God has spoken and replace them with our own. It seems to me there's no path to Pharisaism as direct as being "well taught" in theology.

And in case I'm not being clear, the issue isn't the theology per se, but our own hearts. We have such a desperate need to move ourselves into the center that we'll replace God's words with our own at the slightest excuse. The problem isn't "Calvinism" or "Arminianism" or "Dispensationalism" or any other "-ism." The problem is that we don't want to bow to God's word. Any theology we can erect between ourselves and His words can be used as a way to hide from God.

It's probably not the worst idea to read through the Gospels, putting ourselves in the Pharisees' place. It might be the most accurate way to read them, and it might open our eyes a bit.

Now, because I have a friend who objects to Biblicism on the grounds that it's easy for it to become proof-texting, I'll just add this... To the extent that I advocate Biblicism (that is, taking the word of God as not merely infallible but also sufficient), I am doing so with the assumption that we bow to the whole word of God. Using Biblicism as an excuse to be lazy about theology is sin too. Scripture doesn't excuse slothfulness, especially not when it comes to the Scriptures.  If the first eight chapters of Proverbs convince us of nothing else, it ought to make us certain that the Scriptures demand work. 

Part of the temptation to replace Scripture with theology is that it's a lot less work. 

I absolutely encourage reading other books in addition to the Bible. I cannot overstate how much reading Darby and Newell and Nee and Kelly (and others too!) has helped me. The effort to find, acquire, and read those books was effort well spent. But I must not allow myself to put them into the place of God. The book God gave is perfect, the books Darby wrote are not. 

And even if they were – even if you were somehow able to find the perfect theology textbook – it would only address one part of what God has given. This is the point I started with: God could have given us a systematic theology text, but He did not. He knows what we are, and He gave us what we need. What we need is a collection of books written over several centuries by several different people: some of it poetry, some of it prose. When we try boil that book down, we always produce something less. 

Timelines

A friend looked me in the eye a while back and asked, "Are you a young-earth creationist?" I told him I believe in a literal six-day creation, but am not so convinced about the "young earth" part. That opened a whole can of worms. 

In the conversation that followed, I mentioned I had once made a spreadsheet compiling the birth dates and ages from the genealogies in Genesis 5 and Genesis 11 to create a chronology. It occurred to me that was a long time ago, so I spent a few hours to recreate it that evening.

And then things got out of hand.

For the last few weeks, I have found myself obsessed with the genealogies in Genesis 5 and 11. I filled a spreadsheet with dates and inferred ages from Adam through Joseph, I have made some timeline charts with multiple scenarios based on the text. I have even read some commentary on it, although I've endeavored to stick to the text without leaning too hard on those commentaries.

I am not exaggerating when  I say I have lost sleep over this.

Face-Value Timeline

Taken at face value, there are some fascinating discoveries in those genealogies.  The young earth position takes those genealogies as a working chronology. My summary looks like this:

	Age of Father	Born (AC)	Age	Died (AC)	Verse
Adam		0	930	930	Genesis 5:3–5
Seth	130	130	912	1042	Genesis 5:6–8
Enosh	105	235	905	1140	Genesis 5:9–11
Kenan	90	325	910	1235	Genesis 5:12–14
Mahalalel	70	395	830	1225	Genesis 5:15–17
Jared	65	460	962	1422	Genesis 5:18–20
Enoch	162	622	365	987	Genesis 5:21–24
Methuselah	65	687	969	1656	Genesis 5:25–27
Lamech	187	874	777	1651	Genesis 5:28–31
Noah	182	1056	950	2006	Genesis 5:32–9:28
Shem	502	1558	600	2158	Genesis 11:10
Arpachshad	100	1658	438	2096	Genesis 11:12–13
Shelah	35	1693	433	2126	Genesis 11:14–15
Eber	30	1723	464	2187	Genesis 11:16–17
Peleg	34	1757	239	1996	Genesis 11:18–19
Reu	30	1787	239	2026	Genesis 11:20–21
Serug	32	1819	230	2049	Genesis 11:22–23
Nahor	30	1849	148	1997	Genesis 11:24–25
Terah	29	1878	205	2083	Genesis 11:26–32
Abram	70	1948	175	2123	Genesis 25:1–6
Isaac	100	2048	180	2228	Genesis 21:1–7; 35:28
Jacob	60	2108	147	2255	Genesis 25:26; 47:28
Joseph		2200	110	2310	Genesis 41:46 ; 50:26

There are some things to note here. First, we're reading each date as though it were a complete year. It's not hard to imagine that Seth was born near the end of Adam's 130th year, or that Enoch was translated at the start of his 365th year. Those would throw the chronologies off in a rounding error that would accumulate so that the Flood is in 1656 at face value, but could have been several years earlier or later, depending on the accumulation of rounding errors.

Second, Shem's age has been corrected in this table. Genesis 5:32 says that Noah was 500 years old and became the father of Shem, Ham, and Japheth. Then Genesis 7:6 tells us Noah was 600 years old when the Flood came. Then Genesis 11:10 tells us that Shem became the father of Arphachshad two years after the Flood, when he was 100 years old. That makes Shem 98 when the Flood came, born when Noah was 502. The obvious explanation is that Shem was a younger son, not the oldest.

Third, the genealogy gets hard after Isaac. Genesis 25:26 tells us Isaac was 60 years old when Esau and Jacob were born, but no ages are given for Jacob's sons. We know Joseph stood before Pharaoh when he was 30 years old (Genesis 41:46). We know there were seven years of plenty (Genesis 41:47) and Joseph sent for Jacob to join him in Egypt after two years of famine, while there were five years of famine remaining (Genesis 45:6). So Joseph was 39 years old when he sent for Jacob. Jacob met Pharaoh at 130 years old (Genesis 47:9). So if we assume the move to Egypt happened fairly quickly, then Jacob was 130 years old when Joseph was 39 years old, meaning Joseph was born when Jacob was 91 years old. I left that out of the table above, because it's not explicitly given in Scripture.

It's noteworthy that in this timeline, Abram leaves Haran less than 400 years after the Flood, and only 17 years after Noah dies. In fact, Abraham dies before Shem.

 

William Kelly's Revision

But this face-value chronology gives us trouble in Acts 7:4, where Stephen tells us Abram left Haran after his father died. Terah became the father of Abram, Nahor, and Haran when he was 70 years old (Genesis 11:26) and Abram left Haran when he was 75 years old (Genesis 12:4). If we take those two numbers together, then Abram leaves Haran when Terah is 145 years old, a full 60 years before Terah dies.

In the Q & A Section of Bible Treasury, William Kelly addresses the age of Terah when Abram leaves Haran by asserting that Abram was likely Terah's youngest son. If Abram's eldest brother was born when Terah was 70, and Abram himself was born when Terah was 130, then Acts 7:4 and Genesis 12:4 agree.

(Kelly doesn't mention Romans 4:19 or Hebrews 11:12 in connection with this, which is unfortunate. If Abram was born when his father was 130 years old, then he would not expect to be too old to have Isaac when he was only 100 years old. But both Romans and Hebrews emphasize his age as being "as good as dead."  So I'm not convinced Kelly's explanation is the best: it seems to me a better explanation might be that there is an unnamed generation between Terah and Abram, although I recognize that introduces difficulties for the following verses.)

If we adjust the timeline to have Abram leave Haran when Terah dies, all the dates after that adjust by about 60 years.

	Age of Father	Born (AC)	Age	Died (AC)	Verse
Adam		0	930	930	Genesis 5:3–5
Seth	130	130	912	1042	Genesis 5:6–8
Enosh	105	235	905	1140	Genesis 5:9–11
Kenan	90	325	910	1235	Genesis 5:12–14
Mahalalel	70	395	830	1225	Genesis 5:15–17
Jared	65	460	962	1422	Genesis 5:18–20
Enoch	162	622	365	987	Genesis 5:21–24
Methuselah	65	687	969	1656	Genesis 5:25–27
Lamech	187	874	777	1651	Genesis 5:28–31
Noah	182	1056	950	2006	Genesis 5:32–9:28
Shem	502	1558	600	2158	Genesis 11:10
Arpachshad	100	1658	438	2096	Genesis 11:12–13
Shelah	35	1693	433	2126	Genesis 11:14–15
Eber	30	1723	464	2187	Genesis 11:16–17
Peleg	34	1757	239	1996	Genesis 11:18–19
Reu	30	1787	239	2026	Genesis 11:20–21
Serug	32	1819	230	2049	Genesis 11:22–23
Nahor	30	1849	148	1997	Genesis 11:24–25
Terah	29	1878	205	2083	Genesis 11:26–32
Abram	130	2008	175	2183	Genesis 25:1–6
Isaac	100	2108	180	2288	Genesis 21:1–7; 35:28
Jacob	60	2168	147	2315	Genesis 25:26; 47:28
Joseph	91	2259	110	2369	Genesis 41:46 ; 50:26

Now we have Abram's birth two years after Noah dies, and Abraham's death 26 years after Shem's. The other patriarchs are all adjusted to about 60 years later, so Isaac is now 50 years old when Shem dies, instead of 110.

I put both these variations into a chart to help visualize the timeline, you can download a PDF.

 

 

Tower of Babel and Other Considerations

Now, I still lean to an old(er) earth. I realize the young earth view works so much better in Genesis 5 and the second half of Genesis 11, but there are other considerations. Let's take Genesis 11:1–9 for example. When is the Tower of Babel? On the chart, I put it half-way through Peleg's life based on Genesis 10:25. But that's only a guess, and possibly a very bad one. It would make more sense for "in his days" to refer to his father Eber, not to Peleg himself. Regardless, Isaac is an old man before Eber dies. That would put Babel in very recent memory during the times of the patriarchs.

Babel couldn't have happened immediately after the Flood, because only eight people survived (1 Peter 3:20). It must have happened long enough after the Flood that there was an available workforce to build the tower. And there must have been enough people that when they were divided into languages, it wasn't only a few people in each language: there were enough to build nations. That suggests a long time – at least several generations – after the Flood.

But we have to place Babel long enough before Abram that the newly-formed Chaldee nation had time to have built cities (Ur and Haran at a minimum) and formed their pagan religions. We know Terah and Abram worshiped idols in Ur  (Genesis 24:1ff): pagan religions were fully formed by Abram's time.

And to further complicate matters: even if we place Abram's birth at two years after Noah's death (William Kelly's date), then Shem is alive well into Isaac's life. That means the pagan societies in Ur, Canaan, and Egypt were built while there were still two people (Noah and Shem) who were personally on the Ark. And it's not like they were the two old men down the street: they were the direct ancestors of the idolaters. 

Again, if we take Kelly's view on the date of Abram's birth, then we have at most 350 years (Noah's death) + 2 years (Abram's birth) + 75 years (Abram's age when he leaves Haran) = 427 years between the Flood and Abram leaving Haran. That's not a lot of time to fit in Babel, the rise of pagan religions, and the building of Ur, Canaan, and Egypt.

But here's the real question: was Noah involved in Babel? Was Shem?  

 

So we come back to my earlier claim: the young earth view works very well when we're considering genealogies, but it doesn't give a lot of room for the world that the non-genealogical passages describe. Genesis 12ff describe a world that has forgotten the Flood, forgotten God, and forgotten Babel. That's difficult to imagine when there are two eye witnesses still alive, and the world's population is largely (in the case of Shem) and entirely (in the case of Noah) descended from them.

I'll point out here that William Shakespeare died a little over 400 years ago, and we still know many, many details of his life. It seems the Flood would have left a memory at least as significant as Shakespeare. When we take into consideration the average lifespan from Arphachshad to Terah is more than 250 years, that just doesn't seem reasonable.

 

Interestingly, Genesis 5 and 11 give ten generations from Adam to Noah, and ten from Noah to Abram. That reminds me of Matthew 1:17.  No one disputes that Matthew skips several names in that genealogy in order to make a point (although I don't know what the point is). I suspect there is something similar going on in the Genesis genealogies. That would suggest the that old(er) earth view implies a purpose in the genealogies over and above history.

 

Doctrinal Implications

But let's also acknowledge the young earth view isn't impossible. It might align more closely with Romans 1 than the old earth idea. They forgot God because they really didn't want to remember Him. 

I don't like exposition based on doctrine: that seems pretty common, but it strikes me as pretty dodgy.  That being said... if I were a preacher, I might find the young earth view irresistible in light of the Pauline epistles. The idea that it takes the human race less than 450 years to forget God, build pagan religions, and do their best to stamp out the memories of the Flood is just too good. Add in Noah's and Shem's actual presence, and you have the world of Genesis 12ff a product of deliberate rebellion against God. That works so well with Romans 1:18ff, it might be impossible to ignore.

Another doctrinal bonus of the young earth view is that God wastes no time in calling Abram. In other words, God moves pretty directly from saving Noah to saving Abram: He's not ignoring the human race for generations at a time. That's not as compelling an argument as it might seem, because there have always been Jobs and Mechizideks and Jethros. Just because the Scripture focuses on the line of Shem, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob doesn't mean there aren't other true believers out there. But it does appeal.

And if I were to allow my speculations absolutely free reign, I might go so far as to suggest (only suggest, mind you) a connection between Melchizidek and Shem. That might be too juicy to let pass.

On the other hand, I find the old earth view attractive because of all the hints in Genesis that there's a lot more going on there. Who were the Nephilim? Was there a pre-Edenic creation? We need to be careful around these questions, it's possible to really mess up someone's faith with them. But just like the young earth view is attractive partly for the conclusions we can draw from it, the old earth view attracts me in part because a whole lot of wild possibility seems to be tied up in it. 

And yes, I recognize Scripture itself cautions us here (1 Timothy 1:4, 4:7, 6:4; Titus 1:14). Pretty much everyone who has ever dug into Genesis has been in danger of falling into what Paul calls "fable" and "myth" here. No matter which view you take, you are getting close to what the New Testament cautions against.

 

Conclusion

In the end, I like the old earth view better, because whenever I read Genesis 12ff, I keep wondering how the world Scripture describes could have arisen in such short time. I feel like Genesis 12ff is describing a world that comes much more than ten generations after the Flood. But it's not something I'm willing to be dogmatic about. The fact is that the God who commanded light to shine out of darkness could very easily have packed much more in the 367 years (or 427 years, if we take Kelly's explanation) between the Flood and Abram than we expect. It's not even close to impossible.

One point Dennis Prager makes (repeatedly) in his commentary on Genesis is that the Bible's goal isn't to give us a detailed history, it's to teach wisdom. Prager is Jewish, so he has slightly different starting assumptions. But we could take his quote and change it a bit to say that Genesis isn't interested in history, it's interested in Christ. History matters, but only as a means to an end. 

So there is a tension here: we need to read the Word of God carefully, and try to really see what it's saying. At the same time, we need to be careful we don't lose sight of the real point, which is the revelation of God to man. Ultimately, that's in Jesus Christ (Hebrews 1:1–4). 

If we take the genealogies in Genesis as a chronology, then we can see some glaring evidence of our need of God in how quickly we turned from Him following the Flood.

If we don't see those genealogies as a chronology, then we have to conclude they are curated in order to drive home the point God is making in Genesis. From the very start, He has been interested in honoring His Son, and revealing God in Him. As a result, even something as simple as a genealogy is presented to drive that home.