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.

 

 

 

Glory days

I first heard about cargo cults when I read Richard Feynman's book "Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman!". He attacks cargo cult science near the end of the book, which is a phrase he uses to describe "science" that's really an imitation of science: an outward show without any real substance. That phrase has been brought into software development as "Cargo cult programming," used to describe a [presumably more junior] programmer imitating code written by a more senior programmer because it's known to work, although the imitator doesn't understand how or why it works. 

The story of the cargo cult grabs our attention because we recognize in it an all-too-human tendency to develop superstitions to explain events, and to latch on to them in practice to try and produce results we want. We all do this, all the time. I never go hunting without checking out this one spot where I have never shot an elk, because I know a guy who got a monster elk in that spot. I have no idea why the elk was there: was it an unseasonably hot day? an unseasonably cool day? was it particularly dry that day? was the elk just randomly wandering there? or was it going to a specific destination? I have no idea, but I do not allow an elk season to pass where I haven't spent at least some time waiting in that spot for a huge elk to wander through.

 

It seems to me there's a whole lot of "cargo cult Christianity" going on. Remember the "prayer of Jabez" craze? I didn't dig too deeply into that one, but from what I could tell at the time, it was very much "cargo cult Christianity."

A few years ago, I was visiting a church where the pastor was talking about Daniel 9:1–19. He spent the entire time talking about "remarkable prayers," and it took a while for me to understand that he wasn't very interested in the state of Daniel's heart, or of the God Daniel knew. He was interested in coming up with "the right prayer" we should pray. It's possible I missed his point entirely, but sitting in the congregation, I understood him to say that if we could just get the prayer formula correct, there would be results. 

 

I think the whole "cargo cult" idea explains some of what I have seen around "brethren." We don't set up airstrips in the jungle, but we do develop checklists, and we seem to think as long as we keep checking items off those lists, then we'll prosper spiritually.  Our lists might include women covering their heads, praying with "thee" and "thou," not having a pastor, or even having the right books on our bookshelves – although reading those books seems to carry much less weight than shelving them. 

Of course, not all "brethren" are guilty of that sort of thing; but an uncomfortably large number are.

These checklists are a lot more like the priests of Baal on Carmel than they are like Elijah (1 Kings 18:17ff). This is treating God like a household idol, rather than the creator of the universe. This isn't looking to honor God as God (Romans 1:21), it's trying to manipulate Him. Idols can be manipulated, God cannot.

We have forgotten what Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego told Nebuchadnezzar: 

O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to respond to you with an answer concerning this matter. If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to save us from the furnace of blazing fire; and He will save us out of your hand, O king. But if not, let it be known to you, O king, that we are not going to serve your gods, and we will not worship the golden image that you have set up. (Daniel 3:16–18, LSB)

They didn't assume God would save them. They said they were unwilling to sin against God, whether He saved them or not. This is honoring God as God, not treating Him like an idol.

 

There's an interesting story in 2 Kings 14:1–22, the story of Amaziah. Amaziah's father had been deposed and assassinated (2 Kings 12:20–21). When Amaziah secured his place as king of Judah, he put to death those who had killed his father, but he didn't put their families to death, because the Law of Moses forbade punishing sons for the sins of their fathers or fathers for the sins of their sons (2 Kings 14:5–6; Deuteronomy 24:16).

To me the most interesting feature of Amaziah's reign is that he obeyed Deuteronomy 24:16. As far as I can tell, he's the first person in the Old Testament to do so. There's no lack of apparently godly people in the Old Testament who violate this command without a second thought. We might think of David handing over the sons of Saul to the Gibeonites (2 Samuel 21:1–14). We might think of Achan's sons and daughters (Joshua 7:22ff).  Up until Amaziah, the kings and rulers of Israel seem to ignore this command entirely.

We might be tempted to think there's some sort of mistake here. How can God bless David, when he sins against God in the matter of Saul's sons? How can God bless Asa when the high places were not removed (1 Kings 15:14)? These are questions we need to ask, because they strike at the heart of so many of our failures.

When God blesses, we are apt to look for a cause outside of His goodness. We fail to learn the lesson of Deuteronomy 9:4–5. When God blesses, it's not because we earned it. It's because that's who He is: He is the God constantly on the lookout for the slightest excuse to bless us.

So when God blessed those early "brethren," it wasn't because they checked items off the list. It wasn't even because they had the right list. 

 

Now, it's true that God seems to bless most freely where hearts are wholly devoted to Him (1 Kings 15:14). But we should think very carefully on that. It is true that Scripture doesn't condone our claiming to love God while at the same time refusing to obey Him (John 14:15, etc.). At the same time, there's nothing more common in Scripture than someone who loves God and fails to walk up to His standard. God seems to be much more concerned with our hearts than even our actions. That's worth some time and meditation.

If we really want to make a checklist, we should put "a heart wholly devoted to God" at the top. (It can go above "women need to cover their heads" and "don't have a pastor," it really is that important.) And then we should focus on checking off that one item. We might find we spend our entire lives working on just that first item, and we might find we don't really need to worry about the rest. More likely, if we focus on that one item, we might find there are others that seem to be checked off without our noticing. A heart wholly devoted to God has some surprising side effects.

But we don't do that, because we find it easier to manage a list of superficial things than to work on the one substantial thing. We'd frankly rather be like Pharisees and worry about external minutiae than be like Peter who followed the Lord very badly.

And just to be clear, it seems obvious to me that Scripture does command women to cover their heads in the congregation. It seems obvious to me that Scripture really doesn't advocate having clergy. Really, I think "brethren" are correct about all those things. 

But these checklists we develop are only superficial things, they don't get to the heart of what made the "Brethren movement" great. It was an understanding of the Gospel as God's power for salvation. It was the firm conviction that God justifies the one who does not work, but believes. It was the recognition that those who are "in Christ" are separated from who and what we were in Adam. It was recognizing that Christ is coming back, much sooner than we think. These are the things that resulted in the "glory days" we all want to experience. These were the things of substance, not superficiality. 

God isn't waiting for just the right incantation before He'll act. He's not waiting for us to get to that really important item on the checklist. That's what idols do: that's not the God we worship.

What "brethren" got right were not so much the externals as the internals. They got a glimpse of the God of grace, and shared that glimpse with others. They saw just a tiny bit of His heart in sending His Son, and they did their best to help others see it. They saw that Christ is coming from Heaven for us, and they told others about it.

 

If we need an action item – if we need a to-do list – I'll suggest this: let's work on looking on the Lord's glory with unveiled faces while He changes us to be like Him (2 Corinthians 3:18). And we fully expect to find ourselves walking very badly with Him, but it's better to walk with Him badly than to be out there on our own. And when He blesses us in spite of our high places, let's just thank Him for His grace, and not look for some righteousness in ourselves to explain His blessing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And now for something completely different

A friend of mine insisted I read The Supper of the Lamb by Robert Farrar Capon, so I found a used copy on Amazon and read it last Winter. This is probably the best book I have ever read.

The Supper of the Lamb is ostensibly a cook book. It centers on a single recipe: "Lamb for eight persons four times." It's a preparation of a leg of lamb that makes four meals to feed eight people each. At least, that's the excuse for writing the book.  The first thing to understand about this recipe is that it's a recipe for a feast, not for a single dish. So there are recipes for appetizers, soups, entrees, and desserts. 

I haven't tried any of the recipes. My copy of the book is the 1996 printing, and the recipes show their age. There's a curry recipe in there that's clearly aimed at an audience with only the slightest acquaintance with Indian spices, for example. It would be a challenge to find the ingredients in these recipes as written, and it's likely there much better ingredients that are now available. That being said, I should probably try at least some of them.

But the recipes are the least interesting thing about this book. What makes this book extraordinary is that it's a recipe book for a feast, written by an Anglican priest who presents cooking and eating as acts of worship. This isn't a book about how to cook lamb so much as it's a book about how to cook to the glory of God. And it's extraordinary.

"Separate the secular from the sacred, and the world becomes an idol shrouded in interpretations" (p. 88). Notice how closely he echoes Francis Schaeffer here: if we separate "grace" from "nature," then "nature" always consumes "grace." That lesson took me decades to learn, even after I had read through Schaeffer in university. That is the spirit of this book: treat everything we do as something done under Christ's Lordship, and do it well.

The second chapter ("The first Session") is all about how to cut an onion. It is a sort of a kitchen technique chapter, but it's so much more. It's a chapter about how an onion is part of the creation of our loving God. It's about how the dryness of onion skin shows His perfect skill as Creator (p. 13). It's about how God doesn't create filler: everything He made was made with purpose, and it ought to draw our hearts to Him. It is a meditation on the heart of God, driven by holding an onion and cutting it.

 

Chapter five ("Wave Breast and Heave Shoulder") talks about how we kill to eat, and how our loving God set it up that way: "a world in which no sparrow falls unknown, but where... it is the Father's will that sparrows fall" (p. 48). He writes about how we long for a world in which God will make the lion lie down with the lamb, while not making the lion any less a lion or the lamb any less a lamb (p. 49). It is impossible for us to imagine what that might look like: we tend to want to make the lions more like lambs, or the lambs more like lions. But that is not how God  made them: and only He can envision how He will make them lie down together in His holy mountain (Isaiah 11:6–9).

We are carnivores and killers, and we ought to seek to glorify God in that, instead of seeking to glorify God by making ourselves less. I haven't read anything on the millennium as poignant or insightful as that.

And ultimately, our life flows from the Lord Jesus, who gave Himself so that we can have life. Our physical need of food illustrates our spiritual need of His body and blood given for us, to be our food (John 6:47ff). "Our home ground remains what it always has been: bloody ground and holy ground at once" (p. 45).

 

Chapter eight ("Water in Excelsis") is largely a discussion of wine. Sugar, yeast, and fermentation are good things, made by our loving God:

God makes wine. For all its difficulties, there is no way around the doctrine of creation. But notice the tense: He makes, not made. He did not create once upon a time, only to find himself saddled now with the unavoidable and embarrassing result of that first rash decision... It was St. Thomas, I think, who pointed out long ago that if God wanted to get rid of the universe, He would not have to do anything; He would have to stop doing something. (pp. 84–85) 

Now personally, I'm not a huge fan of wine. I don't object to anyone drinking it; I just don't have a palate for it. Still, I try not to bring bad wine as a hostess gift. But the greater point stands: we are to do all things – even mundane things like eating and drinking – in the name of our Lord Jesus, giving thanks to the Father through Him (Colossians 3:17). And an austere, begrudging attitude around them is not honoring God in them. God is not honored in what is offered grudgingly (2 Corinthians 9:7).

 

I set out to mark passages in this book in order to give a better review. But instead I found myself reading it again.  So I'm going to give up and just enjoy giving it another read. I'll enjoy his recipes for Spätzle and Danish and strudel. I'll take his advice about weight loss too (he recommended intermittent fasting, decades before it was cool). I'll enjoy his commentaries on cocktail parties and dinner parties and place settings, and seat assignments. This book is just too good.

 

This book is ultimately a book about how to mundane things to the glory of God, in the name of Christ (Colossians 3:17). It's a book about something we all have to do: we all have to eat. But eating grudgingly, so to speak, isn't doing all things in the name of Christ. Eating in the name of Christ includes making our eating about fellowship and worship. It includes thanking the Father. It includes looking past what we are eating to the loving heart of God that created it.

I consider this the best book I have read partly because of its content, but also because Capon understood that "the medium is the message." It is vaguely scriptural in the sense that it contains prose, stories, parables, and even poetry. There's too much there for us to take it all in as a dissertation. And a dissertation wouldn't communicate his vision to us nearly as effectively as this diverse collection does. Some things are to be understood intellectualy, others are best understood in verse.

There is no doubt in my mind that Robert Farrar Capon would disagree with me on many, many things. But I want to learn from him how to break down that wall of division in my own heart between "sacred" and "mundane" things. I want to learn to do the "all things" in the name of Christ, thanking the Father for them and in them. I want to understand and know that even when I'm doing something as mundane as cutting an onion, it is an opportunity to honor Him, see His heart in that onion, and receive it gratefully for what is is: a gift He has given.

 

 

Searching for nuance

I am an insomniac. It runs in the family, and I don't have it nearly so bad as some of my family members. So I'm not trying to complain, but I have spent many a night staring at the ceiling.

One thing I have found that helps me fall asleep is listening to an audio book or to a recording of a sermon. There's a delicate balance here: if an audio book is too interesting, then it keeps me awake, instead of putting me to sleep. The solution to that seems to be listening to something many, many times. In other words, I have a small collection of recordings that work for me, partly because I've listened to them so many times already.

Among my go-to recordings is a message on "The Dangers of Calvinism and Arminianism." I have listened to it dozens of times, perhaps even hundreds of times. I refer to it as "the unhinged rant on Calvinism," because it's an excellent example of unhinged ranting. Of course there are some good points in that talk, but they're not very thick on the ground.

So it's fair to say I listen to someone talking about the dangers of Calvinism at least weekly, if not several times every week.

I'm not quite sure what happened, but over the last few decades there has been a real trend for "anti-Calvinism" among "brethren." While I don't want to advocate for (or against) Calvinism, I've been interested to see this trend solidify into what sometimes seems like an obsession. I'm concerned that it has come to approach unhealthy levels.

I bring that up only to say that the anti-Calvinist teaching exemplifies what we might call an asymmetry that seems common when we take up any controversial topic. That is a tendency to look at Scripture texts that seem to agree with us and say, "it's right there in the text!" while at the same time calling for nuance in the passages that seem (at face value) to support the opposite view. So we call for nuance when it's convenient and "face value" when it's convenient.

As an example, in those messages on "The Dangers of Calvinism," a great deal of weight is placed on the number of times the Scripture uses the term "whosoever." But when the speaker mentions 2 Thessalonians 2:13, he launches into a very nuanced discussion of what "salvation" really means. In this context, he says, it can't possibly mean "personal, individual salvation."

I've pondered this a lot over the last few years. It seems there's a danger for all of us to "proof text" on the verses that seem to say what we want them to say, while looking for infinite nuance in any verse we don't like. None of us are exempt: we all do it.

The point is this: if all of us have a tendency to take our proof texts at face value – while looking for an escape from the "other guy's" proof texts in a nuanced reading– then it seems to me we would all do well to apply that same level of nuance to every text. That seems like a reasonable approach to me, especially since we already know can't trust ourselves. 

So I have been trying to make a point of reading every verse in its context, reading every verse as nuanced as though it attacked one of my pet doctrines on its face.  That might mean I am going to lose some proof texts to nuance. 

There is a Sunday School song that summarizes Jeremiah 23:29, 

God's word is like a hammer that breaketh the rock in twain

The song has been playing in my head a lot today. It's worth remembering that of all the rocks the Word of God might break, my own heart is the one that would do me the most good.

We don't need proof the other guy is wrong nearly so much as we need our own hearts broken before God. It's probably better for us to be suspicious when a verse says what we want it to say than for us to be suspicious when it doesn't.

One recurring theme for me has been learning to give the Word of God space to speak. There are plenty of texts that don't say what I want or expect them to say. Those texts seem to pay the most for the time investment I put into them. To be fair, there are "problem verses" for almost any doctrine you choose. Take either side of any debated issue, and you'll find verses that are hard for you to explain. but those verses are the ones that seem to carry the biggest rewards.

If you're a Dispensationalist, for example, it might be worth meditating on Deuteronomy 29:1ff. Yes, there are two Mosaic Covenants in Scripture: what is the impact of that on your understanding of dispensations? If you lean to Calvinism, you might want to spend some time looking at the first six chapters of Genesis. Pay special attention to words like "repent" and "relent." They might surprise you. If you lean to Arminianism, spend some time in John 6 or Romans 9. Really read them, consider carefully why Paul assumes his teaching of election will offend you (Romans 9:19). Does Romans 9 offend you? Will you let it?

And whatever you do, don't reach for that pat answer you've adopted to shield your heart and conscience from the Word of God. Let it hurt a bit. Take it in. You might find those become the verses that reward you the most.

And then, when we find ourselves in those passages that seem to say what we want them to, let's try and find some nuance. Are we understanding them in context? Is it possible we are right, but this particular verse really isn't one that supports our view? That happens a lot.

Not every verse supports every truth. I've mentioned Romans 6:23 a lot on this blog: it's an important verse, but it's not a gospel verse. It's not talking about God's just judgment on sins we have committed; it's talking about the wages we as justified believers can expect to be paid when we obey indwelling sin as our master. So let's not rip it from its context, even if our intentions are pure.

So that's my goal: to read every verse with nuance, not just the ones that don't seem to agree with me. I'm not sure I do it very well, but I think it's a worthy goal.

 

 

 

In retrospect

One of my favorite features of Scripture is the internal commentary. I love the parts that comment on other (usually earlier) passages. Sometimes those commentaries add a bit of color to the earlier passages. Sometimes they seem to change the whole story.

Deuteronomy is a good example. Moses' commentary on the events from Exodus through Numbers adds nuance on some places, clarifies what the take-home message is in others, and sometimes seems to change the entire story.

For example, Numbers 13:1–16 tells us about the spies that Moses sends into the land from Kadesh-barnea. In the Numbers account, the Lord commands Moses to send the spies into the land. But Deuteronomy 1:22–25 tells us that sending the spies was the people's idea, and Moses agreed to it. In light of the commentary in Deuteronomy, it seems like the Lord's command in Numbers 13 was not to choose spies, but to send them into the land.

Another example might be Deuteronomy 10:1–5. Here Moses tells us about receiving the second set of tablets at Sinai, which is also told in Exodus 34:1–9. In both accounts, Moses is to bring stone tablets up the mountain; but in the account in Deuteronomy, he was told to build an ark for them first. I suppose that could be the Ark of the Covenant, but the description in Deuteronomy suggests it was something else. As far as I know, only Deuteronomy 10 mentions this ark.

We might also mention the relationships between 1 and 2 Kings and 1 and 2 Chronicles. There are several accounts in 1 and 2 Kings that read very differently in light of the accounts in Chronicles. As an example, the story of Manasseh in 2 Kings 21:1–18 reads very differently than the same story in 2 Chronicles 33:1–20. It seems from both books that Manasseh is the worst king Judah had (2 Kings 24:3, 2 Chronicles 33:9, Jeremiah 15:1–4). But the account in 2 Chronicles tells us that Manasseh repented, the account in 2 Kings doesn't mention that.

As an aside, Manasseh's reign was the longest of any king of either Israel or Judah: 55 years (1 Kings 21:1). I think it's significant that the Lord allows the worst king to reign the longest, eventually bringing him to repentance. There are hints of Romans 2:4 in that.

Our favorite passage is Romans 4:1–8. Notice how that seems to turn the Old Testament on its head: Abraham is God's friend (James 2:23),  but it's not because he was a particularly good person. Abraham was God's friend because he believed what God said. 

Or we might notice how Romans 3:20 sums up the entire Old Testament in one sentence: "by law comes the knowledge of sin." We'll follow J. N. Darby here to point out that it's "sin," not "sins." Romans isn't claiming that the Mosaic Law told us that specific acts are sins, as though we hadn't already known.  Rather, it reveals to us our own indwelling sin. It demonstrates that fallen men and women are incapable of submitting to God. And we might notice that Moses' commentary of the exodus says the same thing (Deuteronomy 29:4).

Romans 9:6ff is another commentary on Scripture that turns the Old Testament accounts on their heads. We might read about Isaac and Ishmael (Romans 9:7ff), Jacob and Esau (Romans 9:11ff), or the children of Israel at Sinai (Romans 9:15-16) from the Pentatuech and not see what the Spirit of God brings out in Romans. But if we take Romans 9 to heart and look back at those stories, they read very differently.

I've probably read too much Darby, but I really think Romans 9:15–16 (quoting Exodus 33:19) is the crux of Christianity. God can either condemn us, or He can "hide in His sovereignty" and show us grace. There's not a third option. God would be entirely righteous simply to condemn us all. In fact, His righteous nature would drive Him to do exactly that. He can only act in grace towards us – any of us – by claiming His right to sovereignty as our Creator.

Now, I really don't like using words like "sovereignty" because Scripture does not. Or at least, it doesn't use it much, I guess we might claim 1 Timothy 6:15 (NASB) as justification. But in the end, the idea is there, even if the word isn't. "I will have mercy upon whom I have mercy" shows exactly on what ground God can show mercy to us. 

And that ties into our earlier thoughts about Manasseh and his 55-year reign. God chose to have mercy on Manasseh and He did. He gave the worst king the longest time to repent.

That's worth mulling over.

 

Idolatry

Ezekiel 20 is a favorite chapter of mine. It's pretty depressing, to be honest, but it's one of those places where God Himself makes a commentary on the scriptures. I try to make note of those passages; it seems to me that God's commentary on scripture is probably the most helpful thing there is.

Ezekiel 20:1–8 opens with the claim that the children of Israel were worshiping idols in Egypt (Ezekiel 20:7–8). In fact, God says there that He commanded them to throw away their Egyptian idols, and they refused. He goes on to say (Ezekiel 20:15–16) that they were worshiping "their idols" in the wilderness. In context, that would seem to indicate the same idols they had been worshiping in Egypt.

Then in Ezekiel 20:27ff makes the claim that idolatry characterized their time in Canaan.

When I read the history of Joshua through 2 Chronicles, I tend to see it as a pattern of idolatry, judgment, repentance, restoration, then the cycle repeats. That's probably most evident in Judges, but it seems to hold for the entire history from Joshua to the Babylonian Captivity.  But Ezekiel 20 gives a different view of that history: it's one long story of uninterrupted idolatry. From the fathers worshiping idols in Egypt (Ezekiel 20:7) to the elders of Israel worshiping idols in Babylon (Ezekiel 20:1–3), there is an unbroken history of idolatry.

As an aside: when Joshua gathers the people to Shechem (Joshua 24:1ff), he calls on the people to "put away the gods" their fathers served "beyond the River" and in Egypt (Joshua 24:14). We like to quote Joshua 24:15 ("choose ye this day whom you will serve") as a gospel verse, but in context, Joshua is telling them they should choose whether they want to serve the Canaanite gods or the Chaldean gods, since they weren't apparently interested in serving the Lord. 

And of course this is what happens at Shechem. Jacob confiscated his family's idols and buried them under the oak near Shechem (Genesis 35:1–4) . They buried Joseph's bones in Shechem too (Joshua 24:32), which is suggestive. I suspect this is where Christ met the woman at the well (John 4:1–5).

But the point of Ezekiel 20 is that – at least from God's point of view – idolatry isn't a sin into which Israel fell repeatedly in the Old Testament. Rather, it's the sin that never really stopped the entire time. This is how God sees the history from Joshua through Ezekiel.

We should be thankful that God loves idolaters. It's striking to me that Scripture mentions Asenath by name three times (Genesis 41:45, 50; Genesis 46:20) and in every case, it tells us that she is the daughter of the priest of On. There's a message in that: when God chooses a wife for His man, He chooses her from idolaters.  Ezekiel 20:17 makes the same point right in the middle of the litany of their sins: God took pity on those idolaters He redeemed from Egypt.

I suppose that ties back into John 4 as well: the Lord Jesus went through Samaria to meet a wicked woman and tell her about His gift to her. And not only that woman, but "many people" in her city believed in Him (John 4:39–45). In fact, they asked Him to stay with them and He did (John 4:40). I can't find many places in the Gospels where people ask the Lord to stay with them, and I can't find a single one where He doesn't accept the invitation.

Of course you and I have a lot in common with those idolaters He redeemed from Egypt. We, like them, tend to hang pretty tightly to our idols. And He still has compassion on us, just like He did on them. We're a lot more like Asenath than we are like Joseph: but praise God! He loves to take pity on idolaters.

Lost and Saved

J. N. Darby wrote:

People don't believe [they are lost]. They believe that they have sinned, and that Christ has died for their sins; but that does not touch this question of being lost.

But if I get the consciousness of being lost now already, and that Christ dealt with that on the cross also; I then get saved, and that now, and that is just what people have not got thoroughly. They know neither what it is to be lost, nor what it is to be saved.

"Salvation and Separation" Notes and Jottings, p. 46

When I read Darby, I notice how he insists again and again on this idea that the believer in Christ has been brought into an entirely new place. It might remind us of Colossians 1:12–13, we have been "translated into the kingdom of the Son of His love." Darby's writing on Romans 7 and 8 centers on this idea: that there is a qualitative difference between someone "in Romans 7" and someone "in Romans 8." It's the change summarized in Romans 7:5–6.

We think a lot about Romans 4:1–8 around here, and remind ourselves that God justifies the one who does not work, but believes (cf Acts 13:38–39). God justifies the one who believes without works. God justifies the ungodly. These are things we can't remember too often, because they are the foundation of peace with God (Romans 5:1).

But Romans 4:1–8 insists these are Old Testament truths. God didn't start justifying the ungodly after the Cross. That's how Abraham (before the Law) and David (under the Law) were justified in God's sight. This is how God justified sinners from Abel on. God has only ever justified sinners on the principle of faith. This isn't something new, although the Cross revealed how God could do it while still remaining righteous (Romans 3:23–26). God can justify justly because Christ has died. God isn't becoming an accomplice to our sins after the fact by helping us cover them up. He has dealt with our sins in the violent and bloody death of Christ.

And notice how completely the Old Testament doctrine of justification is taught (Romans 4:6–8): the one who believes is one "to whom the Lord shall not at all reckon sin" (Romans 4:8). It's not merely that God justifies us from all sins up to the point that we believed: it's that God now considers the believer as one whose sins are not to be counted. 

This Old Testament truth goes far beyond the faith of many who claim to be New Testament saints.

So Romans 1–4 addresses what we sometimes call the "forensic" side of the Gospel. Man is guilty, men and women need to be justified, or they will be condemned. Romans 5 begins to address what we might call the "ontological" side of the Gospel: Man is lost, man is a sinner. 

John 3 addresses Man's "lostness" too. The Lord tells Nicodemus that we must be "born again" if we want to see the Kingdom of God (John 3:1–7). Interestingly, the Lord tells Nicodemus (John 3:10) that he ought to have known this as a "teacher of Israel." So just like Romans 4 builds the doctrine of justification by faith entirely on the Old Testament, John classifies the need for new birth as an "Old Testament truth." We might find it in Deuteronomy 29:4, or maybe in Ezekiel 36:25–27, or maybe in Jeremiah 17:5–9. Either way, it's certain the Lord considered that to be something "a teacher of Israel" ought to have known from the Old Testament.

But then the Lord Jesus beings up something the Old Testament doesn't mention: "eternal life" (John 3:14ff). 

John's Gospel doesn't talk about the Lord dying for sins. John doesn't teach justification, he teaches eternal life. In John's Gospel, Christ dies to give life to sinners who have none. More than half the mentions of "eternal life" in Scripture are in John's Gospel and his first epistle. Paul mentions "eternal life" eleven times (including twice in Acts), so it's not a foreign thing to Paul's writings; but if we want to understand eternal life, we need to look at John.

So here in John's Gospel, we go beyond the Old Testament (if we can say it that way) to something new around John 3:14, when the Lord discusses eternal life. 

In Romans, we go beyond the Old Testament somewhere around Romans 5:10, when we see the discussion of Adam and Christ. One man brought death on us all, the other Man brought life (Romans 5:17).

And this – to get back to our point – is where we deal with salvation. Salvation is an Old Testament truth in the sense that it's both taught and modeled in Exodus 14:13ff. But how God brings us salvation in Romans 5:10ff and John 3:14ff is a new thing. God brings us salvation by union with Christ.

Romans 6:1–11 teaches salvation in terms of baptism. Having been baptized into Christ, I have been baptized into His death. This frees me from who I was "in Adam" and brings me into relationship with God. Being freed from sin, I can now live righteously (Romans 6:13). This isn't Old Testament truth: this is new.

John 15:1–8 teaches this same principle. We are united with Christ as branches are united to the vine they grow out of. The fruit isn't really produced by the branches, but by the vine that produces the branches as well. It's not surprising that John presents this with an organic metaphor: it's very in character for him. But when we examine John's Gospel, we find that all his organic metaphors are built on the Lord's own words in John 3:14 - the Son of Man must be lifted up. So here, too, we have the Crucifixion as the foundation underlying our union with Him.

I don't doubt that John 15:1–8 and Romans 8:1–17 are describing exactly the same thing.

So back to where we started with Darby... there is a difference between being guilty and being lost. Frankly, some of what I've heard from "Christians" sounds like they're not even so sure of the former. But generally speaking, Christians acknowledge their guilt, and their need for justification. But that's really just Old Testament truth. It's not Christianity at all. 

I mean, it's true. But it's only the opening chapters of Romans.

To go as far as Romans goes – as far as the first few verses of John 3 goes – is to understand that I am not only guilty, but also entirely ruined. There's nothing in me for God to work with (Romans 7:18). It's not that I'm basically a good person who did some bad things, I am a bad person who has acted according to his nature. 

And God has dealt with that too.

Salvation is something much bigger than justification. It's not merely that Christ has died for my sins, but that I have died with Christ. It's not merely that my sins are forgiven, but He is my life. It's not just that I have been justified freely from all things (Acts 13:38–39) – although this would be an improvement over most of the "gospel preaching" I have heard in the last 45 or so years – it's that I am accepted in Christ, and have life in the Son. It's not merely that what I have done has been dealt with, but what I am has been dealt with too.

Of course none of this means we should abandon the truth of justification by faith alone in Christ alone. There can be no Christian life when the question of eternal judgment has not been put to rest. But stopping at justification is stopping in Psalm 32. To live out the life that the Apostles lived – to be what the New Testament calls a "saint" – is to live in an entirely new order of things.

And this is why I wrote several years ago that baptism is the gateway to the Christian life. I wasn't meaning to suggest that we are regenerated in baptism, or justified in baptism, or born again in baptism. I was trying to say that the message of baptism ("I have died with Christ") is where Christianity goes on from Judaism. The Old Testament teaches forgiveness of sins. It even teaches the need for new birth. What it doesn't teach is union with Christ. And that union is what differentiates Christianity from what came before.