Tag: bible interpretation

The bible’s big story

The bible’s big story

In the last article in this series about Israel and the Millennium, we explained why good Christians disagree about the bible’s big story. Today, we sketch what we believe the true big story is.

The bible’s big story is God’s plan to remake the paradise that our first parents ruined in Genesis 3. It’s God’s plan to fix the world, to fix us, and to create a family he can love and which loves Him back. God promises to send His only Son, Jesus—our King—on a special mission. First, Jesus will defeat God’s great and evil adversary and schedule his destruction. Second, Jesus rescues and then transforms a special community to show and tell his Good News to the world and to themselves. Meanwhile we wait to be with him forever in his coming kingdom—when he makes all things new. We must read and interpret the bible in that light.

The simplest way to understand the bible’s big story is like a three-act play:

  • Paradise made (Genesis 1-2).
  • Paradise lost (Genesis 3).
  • Paradise regained (Genesis 4 to Revelation 22).

A better way to explain the bible’s story is to compare God’s covenant promises to individual “episodes” of an Amazon Prime or Netflix “season.” Together, these “episodes” string together to form a traceable and logical story—ending in a new creation paradise, where God’s people can worship him and exercise dominion over his good creation, where Satan and evil have been banished and defeated forever.

Let’s talk about these two ways to understand the bible’s story.

The “three-act play” way

At its simplest level, the bible’s “big story” in unfolds in three movements:

  • Paradise made. God made everything good and holy, as it was supposed to be. There was no sin, no rebellion, no imperfection. Our first parents and this world were wholesome and untainted. This is why Moses tell us: “And God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good” (Gen 1:31).
  • Paradise lost. Everything falls apart. Satan tricked Eve into eating fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and she (in turn) persuaded her husband to do the same (Gen 3:1-7). “Our first parents, by this sin, fell from their original righteousness and communion with God.” As our representatives, their guilt was imputed and their corrupted nature conveyed to each of us—their descendants—by ordinary generation. And so, “death came upon all: all becoming dead in sin, and wholly defiled in all the faculties and parts of soul and body”[1] (see Rom 3, 5).
  • Paradise regained. God rescues a community of people, places them in a new land, and gives them a king to rule over them and be a blessing to all the families of the earth. Sin is banished. There is a new creation—a new heavens and a new earth, “and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away” (Rev 21:4). Some Christians imagine eternity as a vague spiritual existence in heaven, contemplating God. The truth is that paradise is a “new creation” existence where God’s people fulfill the creation mandate that went haywire in Genesis 3. Paradise is an “Eden 2.0” that will not fail, because Satan, the antichrist, and sin itself are gone forever.

The key is to see that the story is about God fixing what has gone wrong. It culminates in a new creation paradise, on a true new earth in a truly new creation, where righteousness dwells forever. That’s the goal. That’s the plot.

The “episodes in a season” way

But that’s the quick version of the bible’s story. We get a deeper sense of the story by following the plot though its various twists and turns. We do this through the different covenants God made with his people. A “covenant” is a formal agreement God makes that has binding obligations. God always seals his covenants with an oath wherein he “solemnly swears” (as it were) to do what he promises to do. Each covenant also has a sign; a symbol that declares something about the covenant it represents. We should think of these covenants as “episodes” in God’s TV series. And, like every good show, it ends by resolving the issues that unfolded throughout the “season.”

Each covenant progressively sketches in what “paradise regained” will look like. Here’s how this deeper version of the bible “big story” shakes out:

Episode 1: The promise in the garden

Though this is not a covenant, it is the big event which follows right on the heels of “paradise lost.” God promises to send a man, descended from Eve, to destroy Satan (Gen 3:15). This descendant will be injured, but he will crush the serpent’s head. In other words, he will smash the snake and destroy the source of all evil. This promise is immediately in jeopardy when our first parent’s only two children are moved off the board—Cain murders Abel and is banished far away to the east (Gen 4). Where, then, are the children through whom this victorious son will come? God has grace and mercy to provide a new son—Seth.

Episode 2: The covenant with Noah and all creation

As generations pass, the growing human population ignores God’s special promise, and a moral darkness descends. God decides to act (Gen 6:5-8) and “reboots” creation with a dreadful flood that destroys all living creatures, except for a precious few. He orders a righteous man named Noah to build a lifeboat of sorts in which to rescue himself, his family, and various creatures (Gen 6:9-22). After this flood subsides, they exit the boat and the “reboot” begins (Gen 7-9). God makes a covenant to withhold another such judgment, so that there will be a people and a world for the Messiah to rescue (Gen 9:1-17; cp. Mt 1:21), according to the promise God made to Eve in the garden.

Episode 3: Covenant with Abraham and family

After the rebellion at Babel, God scatters men and women across the earth. He chooses one obscure man from nowhere to be the source of blessing to the world—the vehicle to make his promise in the darkness come true (Gen 12:1-3). God made three specific promises to Abraham in Genesis 12:1-3 and confirmed them by way of a covenant in Genesis 15; re-iterated in Genesis 17, and 22, and later to Isaac and Jacob.

This covenant is the fountainhead for all of God’s promises to come. It marks out the Jewish people (those descended from the Abraham-Isaac-Jacob line) as God’s special people, who are promised a specific land of Canaan in which to live, so they can be a blessing to all the families of the earth. This is why the Messiah is the son of Abraham” (Mt 1:1 This covenant is the basis for Mary’s hope (Lk 1:55) and for Zechariah’s, too (Lk 1:72-75).

The raw shape of “paradise regained” is coming into focus—a people, in a land, being a blessing to all the families of the earth.

Episode 3.5: Covenant with Israel at Mt. Sinai

The Lord rescues His special people, Abraham’s descendants, from slavery in Egypt and brings them to their new home to wait for the promise. They agree to a covenant that will teach them how to love him and live holy lives until the Messiah comes (Ex 19:1-9; Deut 18:15-19). Unlike the others, this covenant doesn’t move the story forward. Like an airplane orbiting, waiting for permission to land, God’s people were in a holding pattern waiting for Jesus to arrive. So, God tells them how to live holy lives while they’re waiting.

It established rules and boundaries. Breaking the laws, in and of themselves, did not get you kicked out of the family, but disciplined within it. This covenant taught people about themselves—that they were sinful. It taught people about God—that he is holy and righteous and punishes sin. The ceremonial laws (the sacrifices and such) were object lessons to teach us about Christ. The civil laws (statutes about everyday life) were general principles of righteousness applied to their specific kingdom context. The moral laws were a mirror to show us our true nature, a general restraint on sin, and a vehicle for nudging his people towards greater holiness.

Episode 4: Covenant with David

The conquest and occupation of the Promised Land is haphazard. Many forsake God and go their way, and the High Priest and the judges cannot hold us together. God institutes a monarchy, and prophesies about a better King who will bring true holiness and justice to us and his world (2 Sam 7:1-17; 1 Chr 17:1-15). While they waited for God’s covenant promises to be fulfilled, God gave his people a king to rule over them. He established a dynastic line through a boy named David. He said a man from this line would rule over his people and be his royal representative on earth. God said this king would be like a son to him, and he’d be like a father to the king.

Now, our shape of paradise regained is a people, in a particular land, being a blessing to all the families of the earth, ruled over by a king whose reign would never end.

Episode 5: New covenant in Christ

This is the promise of a new shape to our relationship with God, and Jesus is the one who brings this new arrangement to pass.  Generations have passed. A civil war has torn God’s people in two, and the dual monarchies of Judah and Israel have betrayed God again and again. Sin abounds. Externalism reigns. Under the looming shadow of an impending exile, God sends word of a new and better hope, built on better promises—a suffering servant who will set everything right (Jer 31:31-40; Ezek 36-37; Isa 52:12-53:13).

This messenger will love God, lead the people in righteousness, and bring a new shape to God’s relationship with his people—one in which all his people have full legal pardon and an interior renovation of their hearts and minds. Our shape of “paradise regained” now looks like a people, in a particular land, being a blessing to all the families of the earth, ruled over by a king whose reign will never end—and all his people are fixed inside and out.

The polaroid analogy

The bible’s story ends in Revelation 21-22 with new people in a new world. Through Christ, God will have “reconcile[d] all things to Himself, whether things on earth or things in heaven, having made peace through the blood of His cross” (Col 1:20). The core of this are the people + land + be a blessing promises God made to Abraham, augmented by the covenant with David (an eternal king) and the new covenant about Christ (legal pardon + interior renovation). Jesus is the domino which triggers the chain reaction of these covenant promises that he fulfills by the very end of the story—a people, in a real paradise land, ruled by a king, having been cleansed by an interior renovation and been given full legal pardon for their sins.

This fulfillment fades in starting at Matthew 1:1 and concludes at Revelation 22:21 in four main stages:

  1. Gospels. Jesus arrives and announces that he has come to fulfill all the covenant promises—this is the “good news” (Mk 1:15). The right response is to believe and trust in Jesus in order to be counted righteous by God.
  2. This present evil age. The Jesus family, the church, declares this good news to the world and works to gather a people for him, while promising full legal pardon and interior renovation for all who repent and trust in Jesus.
  3. Christ’s millennial reign. This is like a “spring training” version of eternal paradise, where Jesus will reign for 1,000 years. This will be a nearly paradise-like kingdom with its base in the land of Canaan, with a great nation of Jewish messengers and evangelists, who are a blessing to all the families of the earth as they preach the good news abroad, with Jesus ruling as king of the world. As we mentioned in the previous article, the millennium is a lengthy transition period between this present, evil age and the paradise to come.
  4. Paradise regained. In which the great nation + land + be a blessing covenant promises reach their ultimate fulfillment in the one great people of God, in the land of the new creation, with Jesus the “son of Abraham” as the blessing to the nations.

These four stages are like a Polaroid that slowly develops—the image becomes clearer as time goes on:

Of course, this is not a defense of this premillennial outline; it’s just a brief statement of it. Why do we believe all this—especially the bit about the millennium and God’s promises about Israel’s role in the bible’s “big story”? In the next article, we’ll discuss some basics about how to read the bible the right way, then look at some scripture passages that speak about Israel’s role in God’s plan for paradise regained.

[1] 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, Art(s) 8.2, 8.3.

Cold as Ice …

Cold as Ice …

Elliot Johnson’s book, Expository Hermeneutics (Grand Rapids, Academie, 1990), is a frigid text. There is no Spirit, no warmth, no piety—only the cold technician fretting over his syllogisms. Johnson says nothing other authors have not said better, clearer, more succinctly. A few examples will suffice.

Single, Unified Meaning

Johnson declares a text has a “single, unified meaning.”[1] He quotes J.I. Packer, who likens the interplay of divine and human authorship to the incarnation.[2] He rejects sensus plenior[3] (contra. Thomas[4]). The human author expresses the divine author’s single meaning—even if the human author is unaware of a deeper meaning.

Thomas rightly throws in the towel and admits there are many instances where the New Testament author “goes beyond the grammatical-historical sense in using a passage.”[5] However, Johnson seeks refuge in exegesis to justify “trouble passages.”[6] He writes: “… the shared single meaning of the text is the basis of and has control over any related fuller sense and reference.”[7]

This is unsatisfactory. Paul applied quotations from Hosea, out of context, to make a case for Gentile inclusion (Rom 9:25-26; cf. Hos 2:23, 1:10)—a technique which contradicts Johnson’s thesis.[8]

The “Meaning” of a Text

Here we have the great divide. What does a text “mean”? Johnson says significance is from the interpreter’s point of view based on his needs, while meaning is the Author’s perspective.[9] Significance is true if the interpreter has reasoned in a valid fashion, from the meaning, to derive application.[10] “[T]he message of the author/Author should determine the limits in the content of the principles to be applied.”[11]

Where is the Spirit? He does not seem to  exist in Johnson’s world[12]—even when referenced, He is merely depicted as a tool in service of rationalism.[13] Donald Bloesch suggests a better way: a distinction between (1) historical, and (2) revelatory meaning in a text—the Spirit brings significance of the text to bear on us in a personal way.[14] Scripture is the vehicle or channel thru which God speaks, by the Spirit[15]—reading Scripture by faith is a truth event.[16] For Johnson, however, meaning and significance are merely logical, rational—can it be critically defended?[17]

He speculates about probability determinations to validate meaning. In contrast, the Scripture suggests illumination is necessary (Ps 119:18; cf. Calvin, Institutes, 2.2.21)—a concept that has always been distasteful to rationalists,[18] which they give it lip-service or not.

Four Normative Acts

Regarding application, Johnson declares “a textual message may be applied in and to the extent that it expresses aspects of God’s normative acts toward the accomplishment of his purposes …”[19] These “normative acts” are (1) tragedy, (2) judgment, (3) salvation, and (4) blessing. “Based on these normative aspects, the textual message now continues to speak.”[20] He provides no justification for these categories, which are as shapeless as Jello. Ascension Sunday is five days hence—where would such a sermon application fit into this artificial rubric?

Summary

There is a horrid artifact from 1976 by Tim and Beverly LeHaye titled The Act of Marriage[21]—a Christian sex manual, complete with anatomical charts. It describes in mortifying detail the mechanics of intercourse on the wedding night, with topic headers like “the great unveiling,” “foreplay,” and “culmination.” It distills a very personal act into a series of prescribed moves. One imagines the unfortunate couple lying together, the book open before them like an illicit IKEA manual.

My point is that this is not lovemaking, and Johnson’s book is not hermeneutics. It’s mechanical. It’s cold. It has no heart. The Spirit has flown.  

This is an unhelpful text. Any alternative would be more useful.

[1] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics (Grand Rapids: Academie, 1990), p. 52. 

[2] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics, p. 52.

[3] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 32.

[4] Robert Thomas, Evangelical Hermeneutics: The New Versus the Old (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2002), pp. 241—253. 

[5] Ibid, p. 241. 

[6] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics, p. 53; cf. Parts 2-3. For a more modern attempt to do the same, see Abner Chou, The Hermeneutics of the Biblical Writers (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2018). 

[7] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 53. Emphasis added. 

[8] Alva McClain’s argument that the object of Paul’s quotations at Romans 9:25-26 referred to Jews is unpersuasive (The Gospel of God’s Grace (reprint; Winona Lake: BMH, 2010), p. 183). See (1) John Murray, The Epistle to the Romans, vol. 2, in NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965), p. 38, and (2) Douglas J. Moo, The Epistle to the Romans (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), pp. 612-614.   

[9] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 228.

[10] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 228.

[11] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 237.

[12] Indeed, according to the index, Johnson only discusses illumination by the Spirit four times in this text, and each instance is pro forma.

[13] “As a believer can know that I know through Spirit-directed consistency of thought in interpretation,” (p. 284). The Spirit exists to ensure we think logically. There is no direction, here. No guidance. Johnson actually dares to suggest God must limit Himself to our forms of hermeneutical logic if He wishes to communicate to us (Expository Hermeneutics, p. 55). As Inspector Gadget used to say, “Wowzers!”

[14] Donald Bloesch, Holy Scripture (Downers Grove: IVP, 1994), pp. 188-192. See also the discussion by Henry Virkler and Karelynne Ayayo, Hermeneutics, 2nd ed.(Grand Rapids: Baker, 2007), pp. 27-29.

[15] “This object is the not the text in and of itself but the text as an instrument of the Spirit, in whose hands it becomes a mirror of the divine wisdom,” (Bloesch, Holy Scripture, p. 178).

[16] Bloesch, Holy Scripture, pp. 48-50. Millard Erickson suggests something similar, while issuing caveats against a neo-orthodox view of Scripture (Christian Theology, 3rd, pp. 220-222).

[17] Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics, p. 274. 

[18] Johnson would likely agree with Hodge that the Spirit is merely a guide to the text. “Although the inward teaching of the Spirit, or religious experience, is no substitute for an external revelation, and is no part of the rule of faith, it is, nevertheless, an invaluable guide in determining what the rule of faith teaches,” (Hodge, Systematic, 1:16).

[19] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 216.

[20] Elliot Johnson, Expository Hermeneutics,p. 217.

[21] Tim and Beverly LeHaye, The Act of Marriage (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1976; Kindle ed.). 

Against Idle Speculation

expertSometimes, bible commentators can wander off into idle speculation. Because they’re well-educated, we often give them the benefit of the doubt. After all, they’ve studied the text longer than we have, so we shouldn’t dismiss what they have to say.

Yeah, but . . .

We should still use our common sense. I have a good example. In the Book of Revelation (a book which is not nearly so difficult as we make it out to be), we read this harsh message from Jesus to the Christian congregation in the city of Laodicea:

I know your works: you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth (Revelation 3:15-16).

There are two common interpretations:

  1. Jesus is criticizing them for their apathy. They aren’t “on fire” for God (i.e. “hot”). They aren’t outright disobedient, either (i.e. “cold”). Their collective attitude is . . . meh. They’re apathetic, indifferent slugs who sit on their couches, too lazy to be obedient or blatantly disobedient. Or . . .
  2. The cold and hot water are both good, and Jesus is unhappy that they aren’t either of them, or both. Instead, they’re “neither cold nor hot,” and thus disgusting. This interpretation is based on the fact that the city of Laodicea drew its hot water supply from the nearby city of Hierapolis, and its cold water from Colossae.[1] It assumes John had this in mind, and was drawing a parallel.

There are several problems with the second interpretation, but I’ll focus on one – it is based entirely on assumptions which are not verifiable. It sounds like a learned, scholarly answer, doesn’t? It’s based on “background knowledge” of the contemporary situation. It sounds good. Is it? I don’t think so. This isn’t the way people write or talk in the real world.

The curious case of the Madagascar scholar

I’ll prove to you how backward this kind of interpretative method can be.[2] Pretend that, today, I write this sentence on a piece of paper:

“Fed up with my son’s filthy room, I have decided to cleanse it of all Legos, NERF bullets and cars until they learn the error of their ways! They may cry and complain, but I shall let the chips fall where they may!”

Six hundred years go by. The United States is long gone. The most powerful nation in the world is the country of Madagascar. A team of archaeologists, working in what used to be known as the Pacific Northwest, unearth the ruins of a beautiful home and, inside, they find that piece of paper, miraculously preserved.

Excited beyond words at this critical find, the archaeologists scan this precious find and send it electronically back home, to the most learned and scholarly English-language expert in the world. You see, English has been a dead language since the early part of the 21st century, when America’s impetuous and maniacal president triggered a nuclear war that destroyed his country and the whole of Western civilization. This means my paper is an important find, and our English-language expert is eager to get to it.

After laboring for two years, he releases a synopsis of his findings:

As is well-known, early 21st century America was obsessed with food. Available data suggests many Americans were overweight or obese by this period of time. It is unlikely, therefore, that the author chose the words “fed up” by accident. This was possibly an unconscious reference to the unhealthy American culture, which he appropriated in an odd way to refer to his feelings for his son’s room.

Fragments from several religious volumes (Christian in nature) were found in the same house as this note, which have striking significance for his use of the adjective “filthy” to refer to his son’s room. The word can simply mean “dirty,” but the religious bent of the author suggests a deeper meaning. As is well known, the Christian religion has a long tradition of referring to unclean or morally impure things as “filthy.” This indicates the author’s problem with the room was not so much “untidiness,” as “moral unsuitability.” What this moral defect was, we cannot say. Perhaps the son was failing in some dire Christian duty, in which case the adjective “filthy” is more about moral failure than a simple “dirty room.” Note also the use of the world “cleanse,” which is also pregnant with Christian religious implications. Likewise, the phrase “error of his ways” also carries religious overtones, and may be a free paraphrase from a religious text.

Hopefully, you can see how stupid this kind of reasoning is. This is all idiotic. You might have even laughed a time or two. But, how often have you read bible commentary writers doing the very same thing? As the poet Robert Plant said, “it really makes me wonder . . .”

But, our Madagascar scholar isn’t done yet. Here is the crux of it:

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of this find is the phrase “I shall let the chips fall where they may.” Extensive archaeological monographs have shown this region, now a vast nuclear-scarred wasteland, used to be known as the “Pacific Northwest,” and was renowned for lush vegetation and large amounts of trees.

No doubt, the author had this in mind as he penned these words. Perhaps, from his home, he looked out at the vast forest surrounding his abode, and penned these words as he watched lumberjacks cutting down trees. Immersed as he was in this kind of environment, it is folly to assume he was not influenced by it.

We conclude the author deliberately used this idiom as a result of his context. In this analogy, the son is the lumberjack, and the “chips” which fall are the result of the son’s actions. These should be morally suitable “chips,” but they are not. So, the father (our author) has decided to let the “chips fall where they may,” and let the son suffer the consequences of his own action.

It is evident that background knowledge of a culture provides critical context for interpretation, none more so than in this case.

Back to reality

The example is over. What do you think about our scholar’s learned and amazing comments about the “chips?” What do you think about his assumption that I was influenced by my context when I wrote, “I shall let the chips fall where they may?”

Our Madagascar scholar might suspect this, but he’ll never actually know. But he’s banking on it, isn’t he? When you look at everything he wrote (above), is any of it actually true?

Nope. None of it. Think about that when you read a bible commentary that veers off into speculation, or listen to a preacher who engages in flights of fancy.

So, what was Jesus referring to in Revelation 3:15-16? You figure it out! But, remember this – those who prefer the second interpretation might be doing the very same thing our Madagascar scholar did . . .

Notes

[1] For a representative example of this interpretation, see Leon Morris, Revelation, in TNTC, vol. 20, (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1987), 84.

[2] I was inspired to make this example by a similar one from Moises Silva, God, Language and Scripture (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1991), 11-14