1) The metaphor of adultery for sin throughout the book is a sobering reminder for me of the seriousness and ugliness of sin. What a gripping thought: when I reject God and fail to love Him as I ought, I am, in a sense, cheating on the Ultimate Husband and Lover of my soul. Yikes. This metaphor deepens my understanding of how fiercely God hates evil, and it makes me more grateful for the cross, where Jesus became the ultimate adulterer so that we could be restored as God’s pure and spotless bride. I want to read Dad’s book on this metaphor. I think it can be a helpful lens through which to view sin, especially in our culture which often downplays the seriousness of sin. For most of us, even just reading Ezekiel 16 out loud in a church service would be an eyebrow raiser. But maybe that is just why we need it. As the metaphor strikes and offends us, so our sin strikes and offends God. Its a striking metaphor because sin is striking.

2) It is simply amazing how frequently the phrase “that you may know that I am the Lord” is reiterated throughout the book. I think it occurs somewhere around 70 times in the space of 48 chapters. I see here a powerful reminder of God’s passionate desire for the display of his glory to his creatures. Amidst all of his action, in both judgment and salvation (and its amazing how alive and active God is throughout the book), God’s ultimate concern is that His creatures know His glory. In other words, God is not only concerned to be God in our lives and in history, He wants to be seen as God in the process. He not only acts: He reveals Himself to us in those actions.

I find it simply amazing that God wants his glory to be seen by us. There is something in me that wonders: why does He even care? It almost feels like a musical genius wanting to teaching ants about why his music is so beautiful, or a gifted author teaching centipedes how to read so they can enjoy his book. We are so small, and He is so big – its not like our compliments and love could fill some gap in Him. Even if He needed the praise of others – which He doesn’t because He’s perfectly self-sufficient in His triune relations – but even if He did, He’s got the angels with whom to share His glory. But then I consider that this effusive, over-flowing bent towards Self-giving and Self-revelation is really an act of love. If God’s glory is the ultimate Good in reality, the Beauty and Light and Joy from which all other beauty and light and joy stems, then God’s concern that we see his glory is ultimately a way of saying: “I care about you – I dignify you – I love you too much to allow you to live for anything less than what is best.”

Once again I see a message here that is much needed in our church culture, which often lacks a robust God-centeredness at its core, and as a result often downplays God’s judgment and overemphasizes the human element in God’s salvation. If we could start all our theology and living with a vivid experience of the glory of God as Ezekiel had in chapter 1, how many errors would we avoid! We would be like ants who knew there was music, or centipedes who knew there was literature – our lives would take on a new, exalted focus. I also think this focus on God’s glory is desperately needed in our outreach and evangelism – our rootless, postmodern culture is aching and searching for something Ultimate and Transcendent for which to live. You can see it – and the despair of not having it – in movies and TV all the time.

3) Ezekiel had a tough calling. But God established him firmly in it. “I will make you as unyielding and hardened as they are. I will make your forehead like the hardest stone, harder than flint” (2:8-9). It seems to me that there’s lot of meat here for pastors and others in ministry who desire to be faithful in a difficult calling. I can’t imagine having to say to people all that Ezekiel had to say! Faithfulness for him did not mean a mega-church and a book contract. It meant loneliness, persecution, and unpopularity. But what is most amazing to me about Ezekiel’s calling is that, at a couple of key passages in the book, the recurrent phrase “and you will know that I am the Lord” is altered and applied to Ezekiel himself. For example, God says to Ezekiel back in 2:5: “whether they listen or fail to listen – for they are a rebellious people – they will know that a prophet has been among them.” Or at the end of the prophecy in chapter 33, “When all this comes true – and it surely will – then they will know that a prophet has been among them.”

Thus, right alongside all its difficulty and suffering, Ezekiel’s office is also given the greatest dignity and honor: to be associated with the glory of God, the greatest beauty in the universe and the great cause behind all of history. Those who fought Ezekiel would discover they were fighting God Himself, and the revelation of God’s glory was simultaneously the vindication of Ezekiel as a true prophet. This is what young post-modern people in our culture need: a transcendent vision of something massive to live for, an all-consuming Vertical cause that stretches beyond the emptiness and boredom of our Horizontal causes. Oh God, may we labor for your glory today, and thus become associated with it, connected to it, imbedded in it. May our lives tell the story of your beauty. May we spend ourselves for that cause, losing ourselves in it and thus finding true joy and life.

4) The reality of determined, final judgment throughout the book is striking. There are times when God says, in effect, “that’s it. Enough is enough. I will not hear you even if you repent. You have crossed the line of no return. I am tearing you down, and you’re never never going to be built back up. You’re outta here. And you’re never coming back.” Yikes. I don’t want to over-emphasize this, because the whole point of other passages in Ezekiel (chapter 18, or 33:11-16) concerns the saving efficacy of repentance from wickedness. But I really think we can make God too “nice” today. If our understanding of God has no category for final, irrevocable judgment, we need some adjustment from Ezekiel and the other OT prophets. Without downplaying his love and gentleness, I think we need to recover a healthy fear of God’s fierceness and holiness. You can catch a glimpse of it by diving in just about anywhere in the book.

5) I do think that 28:11-19 is ultimately about Satan. I used to think of this as “double meaning,” applied to both the king of Tyre as well as Satan. Now I am wondering if its better to take more in terms of the principle of corporate solidarity: thus the king of Tyre becomes the personification of the ultimate expression of evil, Satan himself in his rebellion against God. Just as Ezekiel gets annexed to the glory and cause of God, so the king of Tyre gets annexed to the history and reality of evil and opposition to God, ultimately located in Satan himself. Just as God’s glory is a cause that one gets sucked into, so is opposition to that glory! Good and evil are not merely personal destinies, but two great histories that we join, stretching back to the angels’ warfare.

6) I am going into chapters 40-48 now, and I have no idea what to do with all the rebuilding of the temple stuff. I need to read Block for help.

I’ve been reflecting on this today in light of II Corinthians 4, a chapter that means much to me as I think about my ministry in light of Paul’s understanding of his own ministry. I draw out a number of principles from the way Paul speaks about his ministry in this chapter:

1. If my salvation is entirely by God’s grace, so is my ministry: “having this ministry by the mercy of God” (4:1).

2. If my salvation is truly visible only to the eyes of faith, so is my ministry: “as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen” (4:18); “we also believe, and so we also speak” (4:13, italics mine).

3. If my salvation is a manifestation of the power of God in the midst of human weakness, so is my ministry: “we have this treasure in jars of clay … we are afflicted in every way … to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (4:7-8).

4. If my salvation is ultimately for the glory of God, not my own, so is my ministry: “what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord” (4:5); so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God” (4:15)

5. If my salvation is a participation in the death and resurrection of Christ, so is my ministry: “always carrying in the body the death of Jesus … always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake … so death is at work in us, but life in you” (II Corinthians 4:10-12).

The practical pay off that I walk away with is stated twice, at the beginning and end of the chapter: “we do not lose heart” (4:1, 4:16). If my ministry is based upon the same resources, the same truths – ultimately, the same Christ – as my salvation, then it has something of the same power, the same inevitability, the same Christ-focus. Just as the five solas of the Reformation have the functional effect of directing our eyes to Christ in our salvation, so their application to the ministry of the gospel has the effect of directing our eyes to Christ in it. Ministry, like salvation, is by Scripture alone, by grace alone, by faith alone, through Christ alone (in his death and resurrection), and for the glory of God alone. When I live in this awareness, I do not lose heart, because my eyes are on Christ and His power. I want to be careful not to downplay important differences that do exist between salvation and ministry (e.g., I can lose my ministry, but not my salvation). But I do see in Scripture a link between these two twin realities: justification (salvation) and calling (ministry). For example, in Zechariah 3, Joshua’s justification is part and parcel with his priestly calling. They both flow from the same source.

Lord, give us grace to serve you out of the greater reality of how you have served us in your Son. Let our ministry efforts be the overflow of our experience of your extravagant love in the gospel. Amen.

What I said seemed to be well received, and I thought we had a great morning together. But this morning I’m reflecting on the reality that as basic as this distinction between a believer and an unbeliever is, in both Scripture and in classic evangelical theology, so many teenagers in our American church culture have never heard this kind of teaching before. For so many youth in the church today, the reigning theological paradigm seems to be a watered down, “Jesus is your buddy” message, more informed by our cultural idols than by Scripture. The “Jesus is your Buddy” message emphasizes God’s niceness and His desire to help us deal with bad things like stress and emotional pain, but is sadly distant from biblical teaching on the specifics of the gospel, including sin, judgment, atonement, repentance, and holiness (and forget about bringing up topics like hell, divine wrath, or church discipline – we are way too hip and clever to even take them seriously).

Like all gospel counterfeits, the “Jesus is your buddy” message has elements that can be affirmed. God is kind, and He does want to help us deal with bad things like stress. (In fact, we talked just the previous week about “Letting God be God over stress.”) But when the “Jesus is your Buddy” message is the dominant theological message in play, the functional center of a ministry, then frankly, we have failed our youth. We have not taught them accurately who God is, what the Christian message is all about, or what it means to be the church. No wonder so many of even our most committed students graduate high school and quickly abandon the church and/or their faith – they’ve never understood the gospel and its power and role in their lives! And no wonder so many people, unbelievers and believers alike, become so fed up with church culture – for the “Jesus is your Buddy” produces a deeply unhealthy culture. It creates a lack of reverence in worship, a lack of accountability in relationships, and a lack of fruitfulness in personal spiritual growth. Sin and dysfunction are rarely dealt with, so they linger, and then fester.

What is the solution? I don’t have all the answers, but I believe that the central need of the church is always the Word of God. Simply put, we must re-focus on the true, biblical gospel. And what I’m learning more and more these days is that to see the gospel and its role in our lives, it must be distinguished from the pseudo-gospels that tend to spring up whenever the true gospel is lost. Its not enough to say, “Christ died for your sins.” People can still construe that within a “Jesus is your Buddy” framework (sort of). We’ve got to make clear distinctions. We’ve got to say, “the gospel is this, not that.” We’ve got to say, “the gospel is that Christ died for your sins, and here is how that is different from the “Jesus is your Buddy” message.”

That isn’t easy, because the unhealthiness of a “Jesus is your Buddy” culture can become deeply entrenched and reinforced, just like a dysfunctional family system which “self-protects” against the threat of healing and progress, or like a sick body which fights to reject a medicine. To dislodge the unhealthiness and endure the opposition takes courage, and perseverance, and above all, suffering. But that’s the great thing about the true gospel. Whereas the “Jesus is your Buddy” message turns the gospel into a mechanism for acquiring our own idols, and thus is incredibly flimsy in its effects on our lives, the true gospel makes us treasure and value Christ so much that we are willing to lose all things for His sake. In the true gospel, Jesus is not a means, but the great and glorious end. And He is so wonderful, so beautiful, so enthralling, that suffering for the sake of advancing His cause is actually a joy.

In my life and ministry these days I feel like I am in the middle of a marathon. On the one hand, things are going well and progress is being made and we are experiencing relatively “smooth sailing” forward. On the other hand, I don’t have any major vacations or milestones to look ahead to. I am out of the honeymoon phase, but far from the late stages where you see the mature fruit of your labors. It feels like being in the middle of a marathon: there are many miles behind, many miles ahead, and perseverance and faithfulness are the great and constant needs. I am finding I need to continually check my heart these days, and refocus on a gospel motivation. Other forms of motivation tend to burn away with time, whatever short spurts of energy they may give. Only gospel motivation is truly resilient. It helps me, day by day, minute by minute, step by step, to simply persevere and keep moving forward, which is the great need.

During this season, I am seeking to maintain godly patterns of spiritual disciplines, exercise, sabbath rest, friendship, laughter, and above all, gospel motivation. In this effort, two passages of Scripture are especially meaningful to me these days. The first is I Corinthians 15:48: “Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” I have to remind myself of this promise all the time. What I am doing is not in vain. God is at work through my efforts. He is doing something that matters for all eternity. For all I know, it may be, from the standpoint of eternity, a very small contribution – but its not nothing. This daily plodding – step by step, minute by minute – is making a difference that will last for all eternity. If I didn’t believe that, I would probably give up. And I certainly know it is a gift of 100% grace. I don’t even deserve to be in the race at all. But I need this gift of grace – I need to know its not in vain, that what I am doing counts. Without that, it simply would not be worth it. With that, I can keep plodding along, minute by minute, step by step.

Secondly, I am so helped by II Corinthians 4:16-18: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

Amidst so much about this passage that is uplifting, that last little bit stands out to me the most. “Fix your eyes on what is unseen.” That’s like saying, “attune your ears to what is inaudible;” or, “fasten your grasp on what is immaterial.” But the sight in view here is the sight of faith, and faith can see things that ordinary vision and human insight cannot. This passage complements the I Corinthians 15 text and encourages me to pray, “Lord, help me to see the work you are doing through my ministry. Help me to see the fruit you are bearing. Allow the reward of heaven to be more than a vague, murky, abstract hope, but a living and daily focus in my mind. Your perspective, seen through the eyes of faith, is what breathes purpose into this daily plodding, moment by moment, step by step. Help me not merely to walk, but to walk by faith.”

I believe this gospel motivation is not only enough to sustain us in the daily plodding, but can also give us a sense of joy and anticipation about how awesome it will be to complete the task that God has called us to and cross the finish line – not only in heaven, but also at those key milestones of joy and remembrance in this life.

1) “The Voice of His Blood: Atonement and Intercession in the Thought of Stephen Charnock.”

The first one is on the relationship between atonement and intercession in the thought of Stephen Charnock. This whole issue how how atonement and intercession relate to each other came up during my resurrection project, and I realized there is a lot to explore there. It seems to me like Christ’s intercession is a generally neglected topic among evangelicals, both academically and in devotional thought, and yet its an important part of Christ’s saving work in the New Testament. Its not only the focus of a number of important New Testament passages among different authors (e.g., Romans 8:34, Hebrews 7:25, 9:24, I John 2:1-2), but I think its a massive part of the Old Testament background to Christ’s priestly work, beginning with Leviticus 16, but also leaving its stamp on passages like Isaiah 53, Psalm 110, Micah 7:9, and others. At the same time, some voices which are emphasizing the intercessory work of Christ seem to do so at the expense of Jesus’ atoning work at the cross. Charnock is an extremely helpful guide on how atonement and intercession relate to each other, as the two complementary aspects of Jesus’ priestly office. He argues for a very close relationship between the two, and the specific ways he teases this out are very creative, edifying, and illuminating. I discovered his treatment of Christ’s intercession in the Fuller library after reading about it in William Symington, himself someone I just stumbled across online. I think the topic is worthy of exploration in itself, and Charnock also deserves more attention than he has gotten. I’m wondering if the Scottish Bulletin of Evangelical Theology might be my best shot for this one, with their evangelical orientation and interest in reformed thought?

2) “Genesis 5:3 and the Imago Dei.”

A project that’s been on my mind for a while to explore is Genesis 5:3 in relation to the Imago Dei. I find it an amazing verse, and am surprised that its relation to the Imago Dei hasn’t been explored yet in an article-length treatment, to the best of my ability to discern. I think there is a lot to say here, and I’d love to give it a try, although I wonder if I might get into it and realize I’m in over my head! No idea where to aim for publication on this one.

3) “Was Kierkegaard an Irrationalist?”

In college I wrote a paper called “Was Kierkegaard an Irrationalist?” It was pretty basic, but I think it could be fun to update it and see if it was publishable. I think I can show that this common perception is way off base. I have no idea where to seek publication for this, or if it will develop enough to be worth the effort. But I wonder if it could perhaps be a “Philosophical Note” in Philosophia Christi, or a similar kind of shorter article in another philosophy journal.

4) “Why Not Grand-children? A Question for Covenantal Paedobaptists.”

Finally, I’d love to publish something brief containing an expanded and more scholarly version of my main argument against reformed paedobaptism. I think my approach is somewhat unique (quite unintentionally so): most credo-baptist literature focuses on the claim that paedobaptism over-stresses continuity between the old and new covenants, whereas I say that the movement from “children of Abraham” to “children of believers” is more fundamentally an error of discontinuity. I think this argument is simple and decisive and also undercuts the paedobaptist argument more clearly on its own turf, and forces the conversation with credo-baptists into new and more helpful avenues. I don’t know if this will really develop into an article, but if so, I’d love to shoot for Themelios. Yikes that would start some interesting email dialogues!!

I hope this post isn’t a violation of James 4:13-17. In some ways, all of it – including the Phd – feels like a long shot. But God has given me these longings for study and intellectual exploration, so I’m going to chase them down, as much as I can find time on my days off. Life is short, so why not give it a shot?

1) Lewis’ appeal to mere Christianity was not tantamount to doctrinal minimalism, as some people have suggested. His metaphor for a hall (Christian orthodoxy) with many rooms (Christian denominations) on it at the end of the preface makes it clear that he focuses on the broad essentials of Christianity because he is introducing his listeners (and now readers) to the Christian faith, not because he thinks the broad essentials are all people need to subsequently accept. He is trying to get them into the hallway, not show them which room is theirs; but it does not follow that he thinks the rooms are unimportant. In fact he stresses the importance of people not remaining in the hallway, but choosing a room.

Nor is Mere Christianity is a “theology lite” kind of book. Despite its plain and non-technical language, I am struck by how much theological learnedness stands behind and informs Lewis’ writing. His response to the problem of evil is the classic Augustinian free-will one. His presentation of the atonement is Anselmian. His argument that God is outside time draws from Boethius. Even his discussion of the role of the sacraments betrays a high degree of familiarity with Reformation discussions about, for example, the mode of Christ’s presence in the Lord’s Supper. All of this theological under-girding is sometimes lost to readers, I think, because of the clear and popular-level writing, which in my opinion is the glory of the book – its ability to abstract from massive reading and translate it into succinct and accessible prose for the uninitiated lay person. But the popular presentation has a solid theological structure beneath it.

This is why I cannot fully sympathize with people who say, as I have often heard, “I like Lewis’ fiction, but his non-fiction is hit or miss – after all, he was not a trained theologian.” To some extent, I can understand that, and I do not always agree with Lewis’ theology. But I think its a mistake to view Lewis’ theological awareness as sub-standard or hodgepodge. He was quite aware of the issues he was addressing, and their historical context.

2) The second of the book’s four sections, “What Christians Believe,” is my favorite. The first section is basically the moral argument for God’s existence, serving to prepare his listeners/readers for his presentation of Christianity. The third section is on Christian virtues. The fourth is more difficult to categorize and seems less logically crisp, but it seems to basically amount to an analysis of the doctrine of the Trinity, and then a case that salvation consists of being drawn into that Triune life. The second section lays out a basic overview of the Christian faith: it affirms Christian theism and distinguishes it from Pantheism (chapter 1) and Dualism (chapter 2); responds to the problem of evil and offers a brief history of the Christian view of revelation, terminating in Christ and his Divine identity (chapter 3); presents Christ’s atoning death and resurrection as the center piece of Christ’s work (chapter 4); and finally calls for a response to the Christian message (chapter 5).

Many conservative evangelicals quibble with aspects Lewis’ presentation of Christian doctrine – I have some quibbles of my own. But its worth noting that this presentation, in rough form, is identical to, say, Greg Gilbert’s outline in his recent book What is the Gospel? You have God (chapters 1-2), sin (chapter 3), Christ (chapters 3-4), and response (chapter 5). He even distinguishes gospel obedience from non-gospel obedience (chapter 5, 7th paragraph), in a Tim Keller fashion. Lewis is presenting the same gospel that conservative evangelicals love, even if he does so in his own unique way.

3) My own quibbles with this section of the book – and they are minor in comparison to my love of it – are three-fold. First, I agree with the Roman Catholic critic Lewis mentions in the preface who felt that Lewis downplayed the importance of atonement theory in chapter 4 and in the book’s preface. I agree with Lewis that Christianity does not hang on one particular picture or theory of the atonement, but I’m not sure its helpful to go to the opposite extreme and say (as he does at the end of the chapter, and also at the end of 4.6), drop the picture if it doesn’t help you. What if the picture has value, and should be struggled with, not discarded? I get the sense Lewis really struggled with a rigorous penal-substitutionary view, especially before he was converted, and so he’s trying to take the whole question off the table so that his audience won’t be hindered by it. I can appreciate his motives, but I wonder if readers may have benefited more from Lewis defending the broad strokes of an orthodox view of the atonement, rather than taking such a latitudinarian attitude on it. I also don’t sense Lewis’ wrestling with the New Testament very much in this section.

Secondly, I also agree with the Methodist reviewer Lewis mentions in the preface that Lewis downplayed the importance of faith in chapter 5. He basically equates the sacraments to faith in their role in communicating God’s grace and life to us, as the 3 primary means of this (faith + baptism + the Lord’s Supper). I would prefer to prioritize faith over the sacraments as that which introduces us into God’s grace and favor, and then the sacraments (along with things like prayer, fellowship, and worship) in a subordinate role, sustaining and growing our spiritual life. I think I have a high view of the sacraments, but I’m not sure they should be emphasized so highly as means of growing in Christ’s life, especially in an apologetics book with a largely unbelieving audience.

Third, I remain a non-dogmatic exclusivist, so I’m uneasy with Lewis’ inclusivism, mentioned briefly in chapter 5: “we do know that no man can be saved except through Christ; we do not know that only those who know Him can be saved through Him.” I fully understand the appeal of this position, and if I get to heaven and find out its right, I will rejoice that more people are there than I expected. (That’s why I say non-dogmatic, in addition to the fact that I don’t think the Bible is as clear on this as it is on other issues closer to the heart of orthodoxy.) But from the best that I can see things now, the whole urgency of missions woven into Paul’s reasoning in a passage like Romans 10:13-15 makes it seem like everything hangs on people hearing about Christ. Maybe Lewis’ view has an answer to this that I am not aware of, and I want to have a humble attitude about such a serious matter as whether the untold millions who have never heard the gospel are consigned to hell. But even more I want to sit under the New Testament witness on this issue, and I honestly don’t see the biblical texts directing us towards an inclusivist hope.

Still, a classic read. My favorite chapter is probably 4.2, “The Three-Personal God” – worth its weight in gold. This is a book I’ll go back to again and again.

I worked on a review of John Piper’s Bloodlines for Themelios, which was fun, and spent a little bit of time studying for the GRE (which I took two days after getting back as the final phase of my Fuller application). I also finished off my Bible reading for 2011 (except for Ezekiel, which I’m going to read in my devotions starting now). I also dabbled in some old books which were in my room which I had read as a kid – a children’s history of Britain book, as well as an English literature text book I had used in college. I haven’t read hardly any poetry in years and I forgot how much I love “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T.S. Eliot. This line from Tennyson’s Ulysses is perhaps my favorite in all of poetry: “I am part of all that I have met, yet all experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades.” I take it out of context as a statement about how all earthly experience serves only to create longing for heaven.

Finally, as a refresher in the broad sweep of historical theology as preparation for Fuller (if I get in), I read Jonathan Hill’s The History of Christian Thought. It was fun to read, and helpfully succinct (it covers the entire sweep of Christian thought in a little over 300 pages). For this reason he has to squeeze some theologians completely or almost completely out: Boethius, John of Damascus, Zwingli, the Puritans (Jonathan Edwards is not even mentioned, as he basically skips from the Reformation to Wesley to the modern period). I didn’t find his interpretations always reliable – he seemed strangely sympathetic to Origen, Schleiermacher, Newman, and Moltmann, and too fiercely critical of Tertullian and modern evangelicals. I think he misinterprets Bonhoeffer badly, attaching all of his significance to his final letters and none to his previous published works, and also slightly skews Anselm and Kierkegaard. But I’m sure that betrays my own perspective also. My overall take: worth a quick read to get a view of the entire forest, but needs heavy supplementing to fill in the cracks and straighten some of the crooked trees.

No my main focus for this spring will be Augustine. I’m starting with Peter Brown’s biography. That should be fun. Other than that, I hope to rest more this spring, go a bit easy on the reading, maybe write more. Hopefully some reviews, and then I think I’ll finally get around to my article on Christ’s intercession. I am hoping to read it at the April Far West regional ETS meeting – we’ll see if its accepted.

The issue in my mind turns on the purpose of church membership in the New Testament. Church membership serves to delineate the church from the world, to make clear the boundary lines between those who are in Christ and those who are not. It is the entry level passage way into the church – the church’s way of saying, “this person’s profession of faith in Christ is credible” (just as in excommunication the church effectively says, “this person’s profession of faith is no longer credible”). And what is it that draws sinners out of the world and into Christian unity? Is it falling on the same side of the credobaptism/paedobaptism debate? No, it is Jesus and His gospel. What makes someone a part of this redeemed community, which church membership serves to protect, is simple faith in Christ. That is what Christ requires of people to enter His church: and we should not require more from them than Christ requires.

This is not to say that the credobaptism/paedobaptism debate is unimportant, or should not be addressed within the church. It is simply to say that church membership is not the level at which it should be addressed. It is possible to speak to important second-tier and third-tier issues from within the context of Christian unity – whether the issue is baptism, or views on women in ministry, or interpretations of the fourth commandment, or understandings of the Lord’s Supper, and on and on we could go. In other words, it is possible, metaphorically speaking, to have the conversation inside the house, rather than stopping them at the front door. Neither does this view deny that a hang up over baptism could ever be an issue with respect to church membership – if someone’s convictions were a source of significant disunity in the church, for example. But that’s fundamentally a unity issue, not a baptism issue. There are lots of issues that are not necessarily membership issues, but can become so by how they are affecting the church more broadly. For example, it could be imprudent to accept into membership an overly zealous Theonomist who was causing all kinds of controversy in the church and unwilling to submit to the leadership of the church on the issue. But that doesn’t mean that theonomy itself is a membership issue.

I often ask my Presbyterian friends why they don’t baptize the grand-children of believers as well as children, if consistency with the practice of circumcision is the basis of covenantal paedobaptism. I find that asking that question is a more effective way of communicating what I perceive to be the area of inconsistency in paedobaptism than simply trying to state the inconsistency. In the same spirit, here is my question for my Baptist friends: should a convert to paedobaptism within a Baptist church be excommunicated? If the issue is significant enough to stop them at the front door, is it also significant enough to escort them to the back door? I think this question highlights some of the difficulties inherent in the traditional Baptist view, for an affirmative answer seems harsh, and a negative one inconsistent.

I would summarize my thoughts at this stage in three statements:

1) First, Pentecost is not completely new. It is clear from Scripture that the Holy Spirit is at work in many ways prior to Acts 2. To begin with, Spirit-wrought regeneration occurred among God’s people prior to Pentecost. Jesus’ dialogue with Nicodemus in John 3 seems to imply that being born of the Spirit is something Nicodemus should already understand, and David’s prayer after sinning with Bathsheba pleads for God not to remove the Holy Spirit from him (Psalm 51:11). The Spirit also seems to give gifts and skills to God’s people. Bezalel is gifted to build to tabernacle by being filled “with the Spirit of God, with ability and intelligence, with knowledge and all craftsmanship” (Exodus 31:3, cf. 35:31). When Joseph accurately interprets Pharaoh’s dreams, Pharoah asks, “can we find a man like this, in whom is the Spirit of God?” (Genesis 41:38). The Spirit also inspires prophecies in Balaam (Numbers 24:2), Azariah (II Chronicles 15:1), Zechariah (II Chronicles 24:20), Ezekiel (Ezekiel 8:3, 11:24). Moreover, while the Spirit is not always mentioned in connection with God’s other various workings in Israel, the prayer of Nehemiah 9 makes it clear that it was the Holy Spirit who was instructing the Israelites through the law (Nehemiah 9:20) and warning them through the prophets (Nehemiah 9:30).

In addition, in I Samuel 10:9-13 and 19:20-24 we even have something akin to the more spontaneous and “charismatic” prophecy of the New Testament. This is a strange text, but this much is clear: (1) prophesying appears to be a visible phenomenon here, (2) prophesying is connected to the Spirit “coming” on someone, and (3) it seems to be a powerful experiential reality, considering that Saul engages in it all night long, and each set of men do it as well. (One reason this text is important is because it shows the wide semantic range of the term “prophecy.” Mostly the focus seems more on authoritative speech; but at times the term seems to denote the more general experience of being under divine influence.) To summarize, its clear that the Holy Spirit is significantly at work throughout the Old Testament – in many of the same ways that He is at work in the New Testament (giving gifts, inspiring prophecy, and inwardly cleansing). So in many respects Pentecost is not new.

2) Second, Pentecost is quantitatively new. As my Dad put it in his book on revival, at Pentecost the experience of the Spirit is democratized among God’s people. Formerly, only a fraction of God’s people were filled with the Spirit. That fraction may have been larger and smaller at various points. But it was always a fraction: never the whole.  But now, in Acts chapter 2, the biblical desire for God’s Spirit to be universalized among all of God’s people (Numbers 11:29) is realized. This seems to be the very point emphasized in Joel’s prophecy (Joel 2:28-29, quoted by Peter in Acts 2:17-21). Joel/Peter seem to exhaust categories attempting to describe the universality of this experience, thinking first in categories of gender (sons and daughters), then age (young and old), and finally status (servants). The point is: the Spirit is now for everybody:

And in the last days it shall be, God declares, that I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams; even on my male servants and female servants  in those days I will pour out my Spirit, and they shall prophesy (Acts 2:17-18)

I understand this transition in terms of the larger transition from a people defined by physical descendent from Abraham (Genesis 17:7) to a people defined by spiritual descent from Abraham (Galatians 3:7). When God’s people was a physical nation as well as a spiritual people, there were always a number who were physically circumcised, but not inwardly circumcised (Jeremiah 9:25-26). Now the very definition of a member of God’s people is the inward appropriation of the sacrament (Galatians 3:27, Romans 6:3, Philippians 3:3). So by definition a member of God’s people now also has the Spirit. All this is related to my belief in covenantal credo-baptism.

3) Third, Pentecost is qualitatively new. It seems to me that the mere extension of the Spirit outward to more people does not exhaust the newness of Pentecost: the experience of the Spirit here is also more powerful, more dynamic, more abundant. That Pentecost is new internally as well as numerically is in my mind indicated in the (unprecedented) language used to describe the experience: the verbs “pour” and “baptize,” for example, both seem to convey a flooding, an infusion, an engulfing experience nowhere depicted in the Old Testament. Moreover, the mere extension of the Spirit to more people does not seem in itself to be able to account for the way Pentecost is spoken of elsewhere in the New Testament. For example, John’s gospel can state that the “Spirit was not” before Pentecost (John 7:39). This cannot mean that the Spirit was not at all at work prior to Pentecost, as we saw in (1) above; it seems to suggest such a dramatic and qualitative newness to the Spirit’s work that it can be thought of as, quite simply, when the Spirit comes. Otherwise Jesus would not have told his disciples throughout the upper room discourse that he would send the Spirit to them after his ascension (14:16, 15:26, 16:7). He would simply tell them to look around – He’s already here.

Moreover, there are a number of unique features to Pentecost that seem to suggest that it is redemptive-historically pivotal – that is to say, that it inaugurates of a new era of the Spirit’s work in history:

1) Its the fulfilment of the Old Testament hope in Joel 2:28-32 for the pouring out of the Spirit during the “latter days,” as well as the fulfillment of a New Testament expectation for a more powerful effusion of the Spirit (Acts 1:5, Matthew 3:11-12 and its synoptic parallels). Pentecost thus seems to be the inauguration of an era of redemptive history toward which the whole Bible is gearing (cf. I Corinthians 10:11).

2) Significantly, Pentecost marks the first time speaking in tongues occurs, which stays on the scene thereafter (Acts 8, 10, 19, I Corinthians 12-14). This sets Pentecost apart even from the “charismatic” prophecy in I Samuel 10 and 19.

3) The pouring out of the Spirit is the only or even primary occurrence on Pentecost. Pentecost is the birth of the church: the first sermon is preached, there are many converts from all over the Mediterranean world, and the mission of the church is launched forward. Stepping back and looking at the entire narrative structure of the New Testament, its obvious that Acts 2 is a crucial domino in the unfolding of the whole drama. (An aside: I think connecting the two halves of Acts 2 is an important consideration for charismatics: at Pentecost experiencing the Spirit was vitally connected to subsequent proclamation of the gospel and mission. Seeking dynamic encounters with the Spirit, but as a sort of private, contextless experience rather than in connection with obedience to Christ’s mission and proclamation of Christ’s gospel, seems to me to be unbiblical. I also think we’ll be more helpful to our non-charismatic friends as we connect our pursuit of the Spirit to other aspects of our church life that we hold in common with them.)

4) The transformation of the disciples from their weakness during the gospels to their boldness in Acts occurs at Pentecost. Even after meeting with the risen Christ in Acts 1, the disciples are not yet evangelizing: they are waiting (1:4). Pentecost is the turning point for them.

My conclusion is that what is new about Pentecost is this: it is the inauguration of a new era in redemptive history in which the same Spirit which was at work previously is poured out more universally among God’s people and with far greater measure of influence and power. 

As I was reading through the book of Philemon recently on one of those annual Bible reading plans (I’m way behind), I was struck by the relevance of this book to this issue, and I wonder if its contributions to the discussion are sometimes under-valued. Colossians and Ephesians are ad hoc letters written to churches, and Paul’s concern in these passages is with the ethical implications of the gospel among the current relationships and structures and lifestyles in which his listeners are living. Its difficult to draw conclusions about Paul’s actual view of structural evil from these exhortations – it would be like trying to discern a pastor’s political convictions on the basis of the fact that he exhorts his listeners to vote in an upcoming election. But in the epistle to Philemon Paul is writing to a slave owner about his runaway slave, and in that unique scenario I think we get a clearer picture of how the gospel indirectly subverts institutional slavery by radically transforming relationships within the body of Christ.

Paul is concerned for Philemon to receive Onesimus back “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, as a beloved brother” (16), and even exhorts him to “receive him as you would receive me” (17). In his day this is shockingly progressive – Paul wants the slave-master relationship between Philemon and Onesimus to be dissolved, and a new one to be erected in its place: a brother-brother relationship, in which the former slave is treated as the apostle himself would be treated. Amazing. And why? Because Onesimus has become a Christian. He has experienced reconciliation with God. And that God-reconciliation is so profound, so radical, so amazing, that it cannot help but pull human-reconciliation into its orbit. The relationship simply cannot stay the same, for both members are now united in Christ. No wonder Paul can say elsewhere that in Christ “there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all” (Colossians 3:11).

I’m reading John Piper’s Bloodlines right now, and though this statement is about racism, not slavery per se, I think it captures the same wonderful truth that the gospel transforms all of our relationships:

“That I am chosen for salvation in spite of all my ugly and deadening sinfulness, that the infinitely precious Son of God secured my eternal life through his own infinite suffering, that my rebellious and resistant heart was conquered by sovereign grace, and that I am kept by the power of God forever – if these truths do not make me a humble servant of racial diversity and harmony, then I have not seen them or loved them as I ought” (130).

What relationships in our lives do we not allow the gospel to transform? What would it look like to experience more of the reality of Colossians 3:11 in our churches? These are things I’m continuing to think about.