Mary S. Hulst. A Little Handbook for Preachers: Ten Practical Ways to a Better Sermon by Sunday. Downers Grove: IVP Books, 2016. See here to purchase the book.
Mary Hulst is a college chaplain and has been a professor of
preaching and a senior pastor. As the title indicates, this book is
about how preachers can prepare and preach better sermons.
Hulst discusses how preachers can research for their sermons, in
terms of both Bible study and also looking for anecdotes. She talks
about the content of sermons: how to encourage people to act in light of
God’s work and grace rather than coming across as a nagging parent, and
how to organize the sermon so that it makes clear, applicable points
that stay in the minds of listeners, without creating
information-overload. Hulst supports preaching about what the biblical passage
meant in its original context, yet she also wants the sermon to preach
Christ. Hulst stresses the importance of pastors getting to know people
in their congregation, which is relevant to what content to include in
sermons: to know why the people like the TV shows that they like, for
example (i.e., what needs or desires are those TV shows meeting?), and
to know what questions the people are asking in light of their own
experiences. Effective delivery of sermons is another topic in this
book, and this includes eye-contact, gestures, and the use of props.
Hulst also offers advice on interpersonal issues, such as dealing with
feedback, including from one’s spouse. In addition, she deals with
thorny issues, such as whether a pastor should ever preach somebody
else’s sermon, say, one from the Internet.
There are many positives to this book. It is grace-filled. It is
honest, vulnerable, and empathetic, in that Hulst understands why
pastors can be sensitive about feedback on their sermons. It has
stories, which effectively illustrate the points that Hulst makes. It
is highly practical and specific. As one who has preached his share of
wandering sermons that have information-overload, I found her reference
to Paul Scott Wilson’s Four Pages of the Sermon to be
especially helpful: a well-ordered sermon can identify the trouble or
need that is discussed in the biblical passage and a similar trouble or
need today, then say what God was doing then in response to that trouble
or need in the biblical passage, and what God is doing now. Such an
approach can help a preacher to focus and organize his or her research
about the biblical text, allowing the sermon to make a point rather than
becoming aimlessly antiquarian or going on tangents. Hulst provides
examples on how to execute this approach, using Psalm 84 and James
1:19-27 as her texts. Hulst’s book also has an annotated bibliography,
in which she tells readers the books that she has found helpful and says
why she found them helpful.
In terms of critiques, a lot of Hulst’s advice presumes that the
pastors reading this book are pastors of small or medium-sized
congregations: the types in which the pastor knows a lot of the people
there, and they know the pastor. Her advice would be helpful for
pastors of such congregations, but she should also have addressed
whether, or how, similar principles can be applied by pastors of large
churches, or megachurches.
There was an area in which I somewhat agreed with Hulst, and somewhat
disagreed with her. Hulst is largely against pastors preaching a lot
about themselves. She astutely notes that not everyone in the
congregation is in the same place or has the same background as the
pastor: some are younger, some are older, some have a different marital
status, etc.
On page 167, Hulst discourages pastors from telling personal
anecdotes that make themselves look stupid or prone to anger, since
people need them to be pastors, “someone who appears to love God and
follow him well…” She goes on to say: “If the story is gently
self-deprecating, humble and allows you to give testimony to God’s work
in your life, you’re probably fine.”
Personally, I prefer sermons in which pastors are honest about their
struggles and vulnerabilities, in which they present themselves, not as
perfect, but as people on a spiritual path, like many in the
congregation. That can comfort people in the congregation that they are
not alone. Hulst perhaps should have discussed this further. At the
same time, Hulst did well to advise pastors against going too far with
this, or doing so in a manner that is counterproductive.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Book Write-Up: What Christians Ought to Believe
Michael F. Bird. What Christians Ought to Believe: An Introduction to Christian Doctrine Through the Apostle’s Creed. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2016. See here to purchase the book.
In What Christians Ought to Believe?, New Testament scholar and theologian Michael Bird goes through the Apostle’s Creed. Bird uses statements from it as a launchpad for a fuller explanation of Christian doctrine. Among the topics that Bird discusses are faith in God, God as creator, Jesus as God incarnate and Messiah, the virgin birth, the significance of Jesus’ crucifixion, Jesus’ descent into Hades and resurrection, Jesus’ ascension to heaven and corresponding reign, the Holy Spirit, the church, and issues related to the afterlife and eschatology. Before Bird’s chapters about the sections of the Apostle’s Creed, Bird explains why creeds are important. Bird addresses a question some Protestants may have: Why should Christians consult creeds, when they already have the authoritative Bible?
The book has its share of positives. It is eloquent yet down-to-earth, with illustrations and occasional humor. Bird’s Christian conviction is manifest in this book, and it is contagious: readers can feel inspired, stronger, and hopeful as they go through this book. Bird has a pastoral sensitivity, especially when he discusses the role of doubt in the life of a believer. In addition, Bird on occasion is unafraid to challenge conventional Christian wisdom. For example, in his chapter on the virgin birth, he denies that the virgin birth is primarily about Jesus being born without original sin, as he offers other reasons that it is significant.
This book is popular and rather homiletical, and yet the times when it is influenced by scholarship are definite assets. There are occasions when Bird interacts with scholarly arguments, particularly in his chapter on the virgin birth, as he disputes arguments that the virgin birth is unhistorical and was influenced by paganism. Bird in footnotes refers readers to scholarly treatments of such topics as the virgin birth and the resurrection of Jesus. Bird mentions historical nuances on Jesus’ descent into and harrowing of Hades. The history of Christian theology looms large in this book, as Bird describes beliefs that came to be considered heretical (i.e., Marcionism, Arianism), while lucidly discussing what was theologically at stake in these debates. In addition, Scripture plays a significant role in Bird’s explanation of the Apostle’s Creed.
The book has some negatives, however. At times, Bird makes assertions and assumptions in this book, without really supporting them. Bird assumes and asserts that the church creeds (i.e., the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, etc.) reflect normative Christian belief going back to the time of the apostles. Bird’s interpretation of the New Testament reflects that, including his apparent assumption that the New Testament presents a rather monolithic perspective on such issues as Christology. There are many New Testament scholars who would disagree and see early Christianity as more diverse. Bird knows this and has engaged their thought in other works. Even in a popular work, Bird should have mentioned sources about this in a footnote, at least so that readers can know that Bird grounds his narrative in something other than assertion.
Another example in which Bird makes assertions is in his chapter on the atonement. After acknowledging that the New Testament does not explicitly say how Jesus’ death and resurrection bring forgiveness, Bird lists different ideas about the atonement throughout church history and asserts that they all are a facet of how the atonement works. On what authority does Bird say this, if the Bible itself is not so specific? One could appeal to an alleged apostolic tradition as authoritative, but Bird fails to marshal patristic statements on this, which is what people who emphasize apostolic church tradition (i.e., Catholics) would usually do. To his credit, though, Bird did quote Athanasius.
Bird often quotes people throughout church history, even people who lived long after the time of the apostle’s creed. That is not necessarily bad, for this book is an explanation of Christian doctrine, rather than a scholarly explication of what the Apostle’s Creed originally meant in its historical context. Bird probably was not trying to imply that someone living centuries after the time of the Apostle’s Creed was an authoritative source for what the people who composed the creed intended. Still, Bird perhaps should have included more patristic references that were closer to the time of the apostle’s creed, or even references to Jewish sources predating Christianity.
In the chapter on Jesus’ ascension to heaven and corresponding reign, Bird should have contrasted the time before Jesus’ coming with the time after his coming. What is different now, after Jesus has gone to heaven and sat beside the throne of God? What difference does Jesus’ rule make, and how does that contrast with God’s rule before Jesus came to earth? Bird says things throughout the book that may touch on this, but such questions should have been engaged more directly.
There were two passages in the book that especially stood out to me. First of all, on page 59, Bird offers reasons that monarchianism and modalism do not make sense. Bird states that “if you read [II Corinthians 13:14] in a monarchian sense, it seems rather impoverished as God’s blessing is mediated through two lesser gods rather than coming directly from him.” Bird seems to be arguing that standard trinitarianism makes sense of the benediction in II Corinthians 13:14, whereas certain heretical positions do not. Bird also is identifying and clarifying what is at stake in the acceptance of some positions over others. At the same time, Bird’s argument that the monarchian position is “impoverished” arguably implies (whether or not Bird intends this) that personal taste should play some role in what one accepts as truth. There are many fundamentalist Christian ideas that some people find “impoverished” or even oppressive, yet many fundamentalist Christians would tell these people to suck it up: their preferences make no difference in terms of what the truth is! After all, there are a lot of unpleasant ideas that are true! By contrast, Bird in this book often tries to argue that Christian doctrines have been rejected because they have not been properly understood. The implication may be that true doctrines are not just true but are rich, make sense, and have a positive effect on people, when properly understood. Would that not be the case of doctrines that come from a beneficent God?
Second, on page 172, Bird states: “Jesus is not coming back to inflict apocalyptic carnage on a bunch of innocent agnostics; rather, he is coming to bring heavenly justice to a world that is submerged in wickedness and mired in corruption.” There may be truth to this, yet it is difficult to escape the conclusion that Christianity, and aspects of the Bible, forecast doom for non-believers: everyday people who simply reject Christian doctrines. But I am open to different interpretations and views on this!
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher through Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
In What Christians Ought to Believe?, New Testament scholar and theologian Michael Bird goes through the Apostle’s Creed. Bird uses statements from it as a launchpad for a fuller explanation of Christian doctrine. Among the topics that Bird discusses are faith in God, God as creator, Jesus as God incarnate and Messiah, the virgin birth, the significance of Jesus’ crucifixion, Jesus’ descent into Hades and resurrection, Jesus’ ascension to heaven and corresponding reign, the Holy Spirit, the church, and issues related to the afterlife and eschatology. Before Bird’s chapters about the sections of the Apostle’s Creed, Bird explains why creeds are important. Bird addresses a question some Protestants may have: Why should Christians consult creeds, when they already have the authoritative Bible?
The book has its share of positives. It is eloquent yet down-to-earth, with illustrations and occasional humor. Bird’s Christian conviction is manifest in this book, and it is contagious: readers can feel inspired, stronger, and hopeful as they go through this book. Bird has a pastoral sensitivity, especially when he discusses the role of doubt in the life of a believer. In addition, Bird on occasion is unafraid to challenge conventional Christian wisdom. For example, in his chapter on the virgin birth, he denies that the virgin birth is primarily about Jesus being born without original sin, as he offers other reasons that it is significant.
This book is popular and rather homiletical, and yet the times when it is influenced by scholarship are definite assets. There are occasions when Bird interacts with scholarly arguments, particularly in his chapter on the virgin birth, as he disputes arguments that the virgin birth is unhistorical and was influenced by paganism. Bird in footnotes refers readers to scholarly treatments of such topics as the virgin birth and the resurrection of Jesus. Bird mentions historical nuances on Jesus’ descent into and harrowing of Hades. The history of Christian theology looms large in this book, as Bird describes beliefs that came to be considered heretical (i.e., Marcionism, Arianism), while lucidly discussing what was theologically at stake in these debates. In addition, Scripture plays a significant role in Bird’s explanation of the Apostle’s Creed.
The book has some negatives, however. At times, Bird makes assertions and assumptions in this book, without really supporting them. Bird assumes and asserts that the church creeds (i.e., the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, etc.) reflect normative Christian belief going back to the time of the apostles. Bird’s interpretation of the New Testament reflects that, including his apparent assumption that the New Testament presents a rather monolithic perspective on such issues as Christology. There are many New Testament scholars who would disagree and see early Christianity as more diverse. Bird knows this and has engaged their thought in other works. Even in a popular work, Bird should have mentioned sources about this in a footnote, at least so that readers can know that Bird grounds his narrative in something other than assertion.
Another example in which Bird makes assertions is in his chapter on the atonement. After acknowledging that the New Testament does not explicitly say how Jesus’ death and resurrection bring forgiveness, Bird lists different ideas about the atonement throughout church history and asserts that they all are a facet of how the atonement works. On what authority does Bird say this, if the Bible itself is not so specific? One could appeal to an alleged apostolic tradition as authoritative, but Bird fails to marshal patristic statements on this, which is what people who emphasize apostolic church tradition (i.e., Catholics) would usually do. To his credit, though, Bird did quote Athanasius.
Bird often quotes people throughout church history, even people who lived long after the time of the apostle’s creed. That is not necessarily bad, for this book is an explanation of Christian doctrine, rather than a scholarly explication of what the Apostle’s Creed originally meant in its historical context. Bird probably was not trying to imply that someone living centuries after the time of the Apostle’s Creed was an authoritative source for what the people who composed the creed intended. Still, Bird perhaps should have included more patristic references that were closer to the time of the apostle’s creed, or even references to Jewish sources predating Christianity.
In the chapter on Jesus’ ascension to heaven and corresponding reign, Bird should have contrasted the time before Jesus’ coming with the time after his coming. What is different now, after Jesus has gone to heaven and sat beside the throne of God? What difference does Jesus’ rule make, and how does that contrast with God’s rule before Jesus came to earth? Bird says things throughout the book that may touch on this, but such questions should have been engaged more directly.
There were two passages in the book that especially stood out to me. First of all, on page 59, Bird offers reasons that monarchianism and modalism do not make sense. Bird states that “if you read [II Corinthians 13:14] in a monarchian sense, it seems rather impoverished as God’s blessing is mediated through two lesser gods rather than coming directly from him.” Bird seems to be arguing that standard trinitarianism makes sense of the benediction in II Corinthians 13:14, whereas certain heretical positions do not. Bird also is identifying and clarifying what is at stake in the acceptance of some positions over others. At the same time, Bird’s argument that the monarchian position is “impoverished” arguably implies (whether or not Bird intends this) that personal taste should play some role in what one accepts as truth. There are many fundamentalist Christian ideas that some people find “impoverished” or even oppressive, yet many fundamentalist Christians would tell these people to suck it up: their preferences make no difference in terms of what the truth is! After all, there are a lot of unpleasant ideas that are true! By contrast, Bird in this book often tries to argue that Christian doctrines have been rejected because they have not been properly understood. The implication may be that true doctrines are not just true but are rich, make sense, and have a positive effect on people, when properly understood. Would that not be the case of doctrines that come from a beneficent God?
Second, on page 172, Bird states: “Jesus is not coming back to inflict apocalyptic carnage on a bunch of innocent agnostics; rather, he is coming to bring heavenly justice to a world that is submerged in wickedness and mired in corruption.” There may be truth to this, yet it is difficult to escape the conclusion that Christianity, and aspects of the Bible, forecast doom for non-believers: everyday people who simply reject Christian doctrines. But I am open to different interpretations and views on this!
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher through Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
Tuesday, August 16, 2016
Not Wanting to Be Hurtful
At church last week, the sermon had a lot of things with which I
disagree. I can itemize them all in this post, but I don’t want to do
that. Instead, I’ll look for common ground and identify where I agreed.
The pastor was talking about conflict. He asked us if we really want to say something hurtful to someone else, something that would make that person cry. I have to admit that I would not want to be that hurtful. And, if I were that hurtful, I should apologize to that person. But it is better not to be that hurtful in the first place.
As the pastor said, though, hurt people hurt people. That is why I need to pray continually to God for God to set my heart at peace, or at least to give me self-control so that I do not blow up at people.
That doesn’t mean that I can never stand up for myself or stand up to people when they are being out of line.
The pastor was talking about conflict. He asked us if we really want to say something hurtful to someone else, something that would make that person cry. I have to admit that I would not want to be that hurtful. And, if I were that hurtful, I should apologize to that person. But it is better not to be that hurtful in the first place.
As the pastor said, though, hurt people hurt people. That is why I need to pray continually to God for God to set my heart at peace, or at least to give me self-control so that I do not blow up at people.
That doesn’t mean that I can never stand up for myself or stand up to people when they are being out of line.
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Church
Monday, August 15, 2016
Book Write-Up: Critical Theology, by Carl A. Raschke
Carl A. Raschke. Critical Theology: Introducing an Agenda for an Age of Global Crisis. Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2016. See here to purchase the book.
Carl A. Raschke teaches religious studies at the University of Denver. In Critical Theology: Introducing an Agenda for an Age of Global Crisis, Raschke explores how Christian theology can contribute to political liberation. Raschke refers to a global crisis, which includes disarray on the global scale and the aftermath of the economic collapse in 2008. Another problem that Raschke discusses is how the communications media enslave people by emphasizing commodification. Karl Marx’s thought plays a role in Raschke’s analysis, as Raschke notes Marx’s insight that the superstructure (i.e., society, media, etc.) often supports and reinforces the class system.
Raschke presents a history of Christian theology’s political programs, primarily in the twentieth century. Bultmann, Heidigger, Otto, and Barth were significant figures in this. Neo-Kantianism also had significant influence in the story that Raschke tells. (Kant, of course, was a philosopher, but there was a transcendental and religious dimension to his thought, which would influence later neo-Kantianism.) Raschke also discusses the Frankfurt School, which offered analysis that was supportive of liberation, albeit from a largely secularist standpoint. (Yet, Raschke says in an endnote that some have argued that the Frankfurt School was actually open to religion playing a role in liberation.)
Raschke profiles thinkers whom he believes can inform the agenda that he believes is important. Raschke discusses how Badiou and Zizez interpret Paul in a manner that is consistent with political liberation. Law refers not just to the Torah in their thought, but to structures of society that enslave. Grace ran contrary to such law in Badiou’s thought, and Zizez regarded love as a cure for treating people as commodities. Zizez interpreted faith as optimism regarding the future. Badiou and Zizez were still secularists, but they believed that aspects of the Christian religion could be helpful in their analysis and articulation of the importance of political liberation.
What elements of Christianity does Raschke highlight as significant in terms of the agenda that he introduces? He appears to agree with Zizez’s emphasis on love. He highlights the incarnation, in which God in Jesus was present with humanity. That may relate to God’s concern for humanity, which a political theology presumes, but it also seems to relate to how Raschke believes Christians should interact with other cultures and religions in a post-modern age. At the same time, Raschke maintains that Christians should regard ethics as transcendent: human value and dignity are not relative but are absolute principles from God.
The book is highly abstract and complex, and one may wonder if a lot of academic and philosophical language is being unnecessarily used to express the simple proposition that love is the answer. It is tempting to think so, and yet Raschke does wade in waters that are deep and complex. These waters concern trends from the past and the present, in thought and in life, and how the agenda that Raschke introduces engages current trends.
In terms of the political program that Raschke promotes, Raschke seems to emphasize the power of ideas, used by God, to effect change. He is critical of violent revolution. He talks about the New Left, and he may be supportive of political activism, motivated, for Christians, by theological concerns. His hope may be that more people will see the Christian religion as something other than an object of study, a set of creeds, or feel-good platitudes, and to embrace it as something that can make a positive difference in the world for all people, especially the disenfranchised.
This book has its positives. It is informative in its exploration of theological and philosophical political thought, and some of that thought interacted with other fields, such as psychology. This book is deep and rich. The treatment of Paul by Badiou and Zizez was definitely creative. Raschke’s discussion of how thinkers in the New Left opposed totalitarian Communism was also interesting, since many right-wingers tend to lump the two together as allies.
In terms of negatives, this book could have been clearer in terms of its prose, hopefully without sacrificing its depth. The prose in the endnotes was very lucid, and perhaps Raschke would have done well to have used that kind of prose throughout the book. Moreover, while Raschke is interacting with and contributing to an academic discussion, Raschke should have explained how these academic thoughts could make a difference on the ground.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Carl A. Raschke teaches religious studies at the University of Denver. In Critical Theology: Introducing an Agenda for an Age of Global Crisis, Raschke explores how Christian theology can contribute to political liberation. Raschke refers to a global crisis, which includes disarray on the global scale and the aftermath of the economic collapse in 2008. Another problem that Raschke discusses is how the communications media enslave people by emphasizing commodification. Karl Marx’s thought plays a role in Raschke’s analysis, as Raschke notes Marx’s insight that the superstructure (i.e., society, media, etc.) often supports and reinforces the class system.
Raschke presents a history of Christian theology’s political programs, primarily in the twentieth century. Bultmann, Heidigger, Otto, and Barth were significant figures in this. Neo-Kantianism also had significant influence in the story that Raschke tells. (Kant, of course, was a philosopher, but there was a transcendental and religious dimension to his thought, which would influence later neo-Kantianism.) Raschke also discusses the Frankfurt School, which offered analysis that was supportive of liberation, albeit from a largely secularist standpoint. (Yet, Raschke says in an endnote that some have argued that the Frankfurt School was actually open to religion playing a role in liberation.)
Raschke profiles thinkers whom he believes can inform the agenda that he believes is important. Raschke discusses how Badiou and Zizez interpret Paul in a manner that is consistent with political liberation. Law refers not just to the Torah in their thought, but to structures of society that enslave. Grace ran contrary to such law in Badiou’s thought, and Zizez regarded love as a cure for treating people as commodities. Zizez interpreted faith as optimism regarding the future. Badiou and Zizez were still secularists, but they believed that aspects of the Christian religion could be helpful in their analysis and articulation of the importance of political liberation.
What elements of Christianity does Raschke highlight as significant in terms of the agenda that he introduces? He appears to agree with Zizez’s emphasis on love. He highlights the incarnation, in which God in Jesus was present with humanity. That may relate to God’s concern for humanity, which a political theology presumes, but it also seems to relate to how Raschke believes Christians should interact with other cultures and religions in a post-modern age. At the same time, Raschke maintains that Christians should regard ethics as transcendent: human value and dignity are not relative but are absolute principles from God.
The book is highly abstract and complex, and one may wonder if a lot of academic and philosophical language is being unnecessarily used to express the simple proposition that love is the answer. It is tempting to think so, and yet Raschke does wade in waters that are deep and complex. These waters concern trends from the past and the present, in thought and in life, and how the agenda that Raschke introduces engages current trends.
In terms of the political program that Raschke promotes, Raschke seems to emphasize the power of ideas, used by God, to effect change. He is critical of violent revolution. He talks about the New Left, and he may be supportive of political activism, motivated, for Christians, by theological concerns. His hope may be that more people will see the Christian religion as something other than an object of study, a set of creeds, or feel-good platitudes, and to embrace it as something that can make a positive difference in the world for all people, especially the disenfranchised.
This book has its positives. It is informative in its exploration of theological and philosophical political thought, and some of that thought interacted with other fields, such as psychology. This book is deep and rich. The treatment of Paul by Badiou and Zizez was definitely creative. Raschke’s discussion of how thinkers in the New Left opposed totalitarian Communism was also interesting, since many right-wingers tend to lump the two together as allies.
In terms of negatives, this book could have been clearer in terms of its prose, hopefully without sacrificing its depth. The prose in the endnotes was very lucid, and perhaps Raschke would have done well to have used that kind of prose throughout the book. Moreover, while Raschke is interacting with and contributing to an academic discussion, Raschke should have explained how these academic thoughts could make a difference on the ground.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
"Paul on Being Justified by Faith[fulness]," by Derek Leman
Derek Leman was a Messianic
rabbi, and I have been subscribing to his Daily D’var for years. Now it
is called the “Daily Portion.” In the August 13, 2016 Daily Portion,
Derek shares some thoughts on what it means to be justified by faith.
Specifically, he weighs in on the debate about whether Paul believed or
stressed that people are saved by their own faith in Christ, or by
Christ’s faithfulness to humanity and to God in carrying out his saving
mission. Are people saved by faith in Jesus, or by the faith of Jesus?
Derek agrees with the latter.
In posting his comments, I am not entirely endorsing them, for I still have questions: Why does Paul stress Abraham’s faith and seem to imply that people should follow that? Romans 10:9 says that those who confess the Lord Jesus and believe in their hearts that God raised him from the dead will be saved. Derek explains that verse, in light of his argument.
Still, a lot of what Derek says resonates with me, from an emotional standpoint. Am I saved by conjuring up faith and making myself believe certain things? How is that different from being saved by good works and personal efforts?
That said, I present to you Derek’s thoughts:
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Paul on Being Justified by Faith[fulness]
We have been assured of divine acceptance, says Paul, by the faithfulness of Messiah. More than that, through Messiah’s faithfulness, we have obtained access into a new standing with God, living under the certainty of his kindness (and thus, dispelling the fear that his wrath is what is causing the problems in our lives). Where does Paul say such beautiful things? Romans 5:1-2, which in the ESV translation read, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.”
It may appear to you that Paul’s words in the ESV version are not saying the same thing as my first two sentences. Paul’s words seem to be about us having faith and our faith being the prerequisite requirement for all the good things God does for us. God, according to justification theory (a name for the commonly accepted idea of what the Christian message is) knows we cannot keep his moral laws perfectly and so he makes an easier test: just believe in a few things about me and my Son and I will treat you as though you are righteous.
Sometimes the things we think we know turn out not to be true. Romans 5 is not saying our faith earns God’s reward. Nor is it saying our ability to believe is what changes God’s attitude toward us from wrath to benevolence. Messiah’s faithfulness has brought about a new realization for us. Messiah is God made flesh. The way he has acted for us shows us what God, hidden in heaven, truly thinks. He turns out to be a God who gets right down here with us, suffering alongside us, crying with us, laughing with us, dying with us, and — when time has fulfilled its course — rising with us.
Now I am not saying that our faith (belief, trust) in God and Messiah is irrelevant or unimportant. To be clear, I am saying that our faith (belief, trust) is not a condition of God’s love and acceptance but is a result of God’s love and acceptance. I am not saying faith is unimportant. I am saying, for people who like theological terms, it is part of our sanctification (growth to maturity while we live in this present evil age) and not the basis of our justification (being accepted now by God and assured of being found innocent in the coming judgment).
But wait, faith is the condition. We’ve always been taught that, right? “Believe” is sometimes a command and the promise that goes with it is “you will be saved.” But maybe, and this is what I am saying, believing is an experience that happens to us, not something we cause to happen. And maybe “believe in the Lord Messiah Yeshua and you will be saved” is not a command to meet a condition, but a statement of result: “if you find yourself responding with faith to what you hear, you will know that you are saved.”
All of this preparation is so I can talk about an idea which has become well-known in modern scholarship of the Greek New Testament but which is not commonly known at the popular level. The numerous “by faith” statements in Paul could mean something different than the way popular translations render them and the manner in which they are usually understood.
There are two reasons for this. One is that faith-as-condition is an assumed paradigm with a lot of tradition behind it and strength. The other is that few realize the Greek word group for “faith” usually means “faithfulness, fidelity, persevering in belief” and not “giving assent to an idea, believing a fact.”
So, is it our faith or Messiah’s faithfulness? Is Paul talking about something Messiah did for us or a condition we meet in order to receive the benefits of what Messiah did for us? Let’s take a verse as an example, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith/faithfulness, we have peace with God through our Lord Messiah Yeshua” (Rom 5:1). Have we been justified [accepted as one of the righteous destined for vindication in the coming judgment] because we met the condition of faith? Or have we been justified because of faithfulness [the faithfulness of Yeshua who believed what the Father told him, that his death and resurrection would save humans]?
I will try to persuade you of the latter, that Messiah’s faithfulness is meant and not our ability to believe.
First, don’t remain stuck on the translation “we have been justified by [our meeting God’s condition of] faith” just because it’s what you’ve always heard. Be willing to reprogram your mind to read it in a way no common English translation renders it: “we have been justified by faithfulness [Messiah’s, that is].”
Second, don’t forget that Romans 5:1 begins with a “therefore.” And “therefore” directs us to look at what came before, which would be Romans 4:25. When we look there we find the statement that Yeshua “was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.” The verse is unambiguous. The cause of our justification is Messiah, not us. So when Paul says “therefore” in 5:1, he repeats the thought “since we have been justified by faithfulness,” and adds something new “we have peace with God.” The “faithfulness” of 5:1 is that Yeshua was delivered up and raised, not a reference to our capacity for faith.
Third, Paul emphasizes repeatedly that Messiah is the foundation of his message, that the message of Messiah is God’s power to change human hearts, and that the Gospel is what happened to and through Messiah. Does it make more sense for Paul to say that we are vindicated before God by the merit of our faith or Messiah’s faithfulness?
Fourth, realize what justification means for Paul, the Jewish teacher of Gentiles. The source of the idea for him is the Hebrew Bible. God is King and Judge of the earth. He has chosen Israel. The nations accuse Israel of being undeserving and at times God uses the nations as his instruments to chastise Israel. The question of justice comes up repeatedly in books like Isaiah and Psalms. But in God’s law-court, Israel is destined to be vindicated in the end, its punishment over, its consolation assured. Israel’s justification is based on the assurance of God’s covenant love. It does not depend on Israel and the outcome is never in doubt. Should we be surprised that love, not legal justice, is the basis for vindication on the last day for all who belong to Messiah? It depends on what God does, not what we do.
Fifth, when Paul contrasts works of the law with either our faith or Messiah’s faithfulness, which contrast makes more sense? If the right interpretation is “our faith,” then the contrast is between two kinds of human action: doing works versus believing facts. One is law-keeping and the other is mental assent (see N.T. Wright, What St Paul Really Said, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997, pg. 110). But the contrast is much clearer if what he means is not our works but God’s faithfulness made known in Yeshua. That would be a contrast between human action (law-keeping) and divine action (the sending of Yeshua to die and be raised). If God did it, no human can boast.
And sixth, if it is by our faith then we have the problem of knowing the minimum content of our faith. How many facts about God and Messiah must be included in our faith? How long is God’s multiple choice test and how many questions can we miss? But if it is by Messiah’s faithfulness then the whole thing is not a test. It is more like a rescue mission. Which better fits God, the “tester of minds” or the “healer of souls”?
In posting his comments, I am not entirely endorsing them, for I still have questions: Why does Paul stress Abraham’s faith and seem to imply that people should follow that? Romans 10:9 says that those who confess the Lord Jesus and believe in their hearts that God raised him from the dead will be saved. Derek explains that verse, in light of his argument.
Still, a lot of what Derek says resonates with me, from an emotional standpoint. Am I saved by conjuring up faith and making myself believe certain things? How is that different from being saved by good works and personal efforts?
That said, I present to you Derek’s thoughts:
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Paul on Being Justified by Faith[fulness]
We have been assured of divine acceptance, says Paul, by the faithfulness of Messiah. More than that, through Messiah’s faithfulness, we have obtained access into a new standing with God, living under the certainty of his kindness (and thus, dispelling the fear that his wrath is what is causing the problems in our lives). Where does Paul say such beautiful things? Romans 5:1-2, which in the ESV translation read, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.”
It may appear to you that Paul’s words in the ESV version are not saying the same thing as my first two sentences. Paul’s words seem to be about us having faith and our faith being the prerequisite requirement for all the good things God does for us. God, according to justification theory (a name for the commonly accepted idea of what the Christian message is) knows we cannot keep his moral laws perfectly and so he makes an easier test: just believe in a few things about me and my Son and I will treat you as though you are righteous.
Sometimes the things we think we know turn out not to be true. Romans 5 is not saying our faith earns God’s reward. Nor is it saying our ability to believe is what changes God’s attitude toward us from wrath to benevolence. Messiah’s faithfulness has brought about a new realization for us. Messiah is God made flesh. The way he has acted for us shows us what God, hidden in heaven, truly thinks. He turns out to be a God who gets right down here with us, suffering alongside us, crying with us, laughing with us, dying with us, and — when time has fulfilled its course — rising with us.
Now I am not saying that our faith (belief, trust) in God and Messiah is irrelevant or unimportant. To be clear, I am saying that our faith (belief, trust) is not a condition of God’s love and acceptance but is a result of God’s love and acceptance. I am not saying faith is unimportant. I am saying, for people who like theological terms, it is part of our sanctification (growth to maturity while we live in this present evil age) and not the basis of our justification (being accepted now by God and assured of being found innocent in the coming judgment).
But wait, faith is the condition. We’ve always been taught that, right? “Believe” is sometimes a command and the promise that goes with it is “you will be saved.” But maybe, and this is what I am saying, believing is an experience that happens to us, not something we cause to happen. And maybe “believe in the Lord Messiah Yeshua and you will be saved” is not a command to meet a condition, but a statement of result: “if you find yourself responding with faith to what you hear, you will know that you are saved.”
All of this preparation is so I can talk about an idea which has become well-known in modern scholarship of the Greek New Testament but which is not commonly known at the popular level. The numerous “by faith” statements in Paul could mean something different than the way popular translations render them and the manner in which they are usually understood.
There are two reasons for this. One is that faith-as-condition is an assumed paradigm with a lot of tradition behind it and strength. The other is that few realize the Greek word group for “faith” usually means “faithfulness, fidelity, persevering in belief” and not “giving assent to an idea, believing a fact.”
So, is it our faith or Messiah’s faithfulness? Is Paul talking about something Messiah did for us or a condition we meet in order to receive the benefits of what Messiah did for us? Let’s take a verse as an example, “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith/faithfulness, we have peace with God through our Lord Messiah Yeshua” (Rom 5:1). Have we been justified [accepted as one of the righteous destined for vindication in the coming judgment] because we met the condition of faith? Or have we been justified because of faithfulness [the faithfulness of Yeshua who believed what the Father told him, that his death and resurrection would save humans]?
I will try to persuade you of the latter, that Messiah’s faithfulness is meant and not our ability to believe.
First, don’t remain stuck on the translation “we have been justified by [our meeting God’s condition of] faith” just because it’s what you’ve always heard. Be willing to reprogram your mind to read it in a way no common English translation renders it: “we have been justified by faithfulness [Messiah’s, that is].”
Second, don’t forget that Romans 5:1 begins with a “therefore.” And “therefore” directs us to look at what came before, which would be Romans 4:25. When we look there we find the statement that Yeshua “was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification.” The verse is unambiguous. The cause of our justification is Messiah, not us. So when Paul says “therefore” in 5:1, he repeats the thought “since we have been justified by faithfulness,” and adds something new “we have peace with God.” The “faithfulness” of 5:1 is that Yeshua was delivered up and raised, not a reference to our capacity for faith.
Third, Paul emphasizes repeatedly that Messiah is the foundation of his message, that the message of Messiah is God’s power to change human hearts, and that the Gospel is what happened to and through Messiah. Does it make more sense for Paul to say that we are vindicated before God by the merit of our faith or Messiah’s faithfulness?
Fourth, realize what justification means for Paul, the Jewish teacher of Gentiles. The source of the idea for him is the Hebrew Bible. God is King and Judge of the earth. He has chosen Israel. The nations accuse Israel of being undeserving and at times God uses the nations as his instruments to chastise Israel. The question of justice comes up repeatedly in books like Isaiah and Psalms. But in God’s law-court, Israel is destined to be vindicated in the end, its punishment over, its consolation assured. Israel’s justification is based on the assurance of God’s covenant love. It does not depend on Israel and the outcome is never in doubt. Should we be surprised that love, not legal justice, is the basis for vindication on the last day for all who belong to Messiah? It depends on what God does, not what we do.
Fifth, when Paul contrasts works of the law with either our faith or Messiah’s faithfulness, which contrast makes more sense? If the right interpretation is “our faith,” then the contrast is between two kinds of human action: doing works versus believing facts. One is law-keeping and the other is mental assent (see N.T. Wright, What St Paul Really Said, Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997, pg. 110). But the contrast is much clearer if what he means is not our works but God’s faithfulness made known in Yeshua. That would be a contrast between human action (law-keeping) and divine action (the sending of Yeshua to die and be raised). If God did it, no human can boast.
And sixth, if it is by our faith then we have the problem of knowing the minimum content of our faith. How many facts about God and Messiah must be included in our faith? How long is God’s multiple choice test and how many questions can we miss? But if it is by Messiah’s faithfulness then the whole thing is not a test. It is more like a rescue mission. Which better fits God, the “tester of minds” or the “healer of souls”?
Friday, August 12, 2016
Book Write-Up: A Tapestry of Secrets, by Sarah Loudin Thomas
Sarah Loudin Thomas. A Tapestry of Secrets. Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 2016. See here to buy the book.
A Tapestry of Secrets is mostly set in 2008, but it occasionally is set in 1948. The settings are Virginia and West Virginia.
In 2008, there is Ella. Ella has been dating Max, a cold shark of a lawyer. But she is thinking of breaking up with Max and has other suitors: Richard, who is a local pastor, and Seth, who does not have much of a family of his own and thus hangs around Ella’s family.
Perla is Ella’s grandmother and has had a stroke. Perla’s daughter Sadie is curious about who her (Sadie’s) father is, knowing Perla’s husband is not her biological father. Perla would like to say something but is inhibited in her speech on account of her stroke. The flashbacks to 1948 concern Perla’s secret and what made her feel the guilt that she has been carrying for years.
Also in 2008, some developers are planning to tear down Richard’s church, which has nostalgic value for Ella.
I had difficulty feeling connected to any of the characters. Maybe that was because a lot was going on and not enough time was spent going into depth on aspects on their personalities. Or perhaps Sarah Loudin Thomas’ style was too indirect for my taste. In her “Acknowledgements,” for instance, she says “If I did it well, the credit is entirely vertical.” That is her way of giving glory to God for her obedience, but, after reading that, I thought “Huh?” And that reminded me: I had a similar reaction throughout my reading of the book. “Huh?”
Amazon says that this is Book 3 of The Appalachian Blessings Series. That could be my problem: In reading A Tapestry of Secrets, I was jumping into the middle of the story without really knowing the characters. Yet, in reading summaries of the previous two books, I wonder if that was the problem. The first book was set in the distant past. (But I did recognize the name Casewell in reading a review of the first book, for it occurs in the third book.) The second book focused on other characters.
The book somewhat reminded me of the movie Steel Magnolias, but not so much in terms of the plot or specific characters. A Tapestry of Secrets reminded me of Steel Magnolias in that it had characters chatting about the mundane aspects of life, as if they were of great importance. Plus, a lot is going on. Some may prefer a book that is more linear and organized; others may think that the structure in A Tapestry of Secrets is truer to real life, which often is disorganized.
My reaction to the book is rather subjective, and someone else may read this book and have a different reaction. In terms of what Thomas could have done better, two things come to mind. First, the cover of the book could have said that this was part of a series. Second, the book could have specifically identified when it was narrating Perla’s past. At first, the book did that, but just once. Clearly identifying the time and setting of each part of the book can allow confused readers, like myself, to go back and reread parts and thus gain a clearer understanding.
My initial plan was to give this book two stars, but I give it three because it did have quite a few profound theological and religious discussions. Richard talks about how the church need not fear the destruction of its building, for the building is not what is important. Ella has thoughts about how Jesus experienced stress before his death, even though he believed that God would raise him from the dead. Keith (who was involved in the development project) gives a little speech about how the church welcomed him, and that was heartwarming.
The scenes in which characters think about the past were also insightful, and they made the characters look more vulnerable and real than the narrative itself did. Here, I am not speaking about Perla’s 1948 story, but rather such scenes as the ones about how characters met and married, and what kept them together.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.
A Tapestry of Secrets is mostly set in 2008, but it occasionally is set in 1948. The settings are Virginia and West Virginia.
In 2008, there is Ella. Ella has been dating Max, a cold shark of a lawyer. But she is thinking of breaking up with Max and has other suitors: Richard, who is a local pastor, and Seth, who does not have much of a family of his own and thus hangs around Ella’s family.
Perla is Ella’s grandmother and has had a stroke. Perla’s daughter Sadie is curious about who her (Sadie’s) father is, knowing Perla’s husband is not her biological father. Perla would like to say something but is inhibited in her speech on account of her stroke. The flashbacks to 1948 concern Perla’s secret and what made her feel the guilt that she has been carrying for years.
Also in 2008, some developers are planning to tear down Richard’s church, which has nostalgic value for Ella.
I had difficulty feeling connected to any of the characters. Maybe that was because a lot was going on and not enough time was spent going into depth on aspects on their personalities. Or perhaps Sarah Loudin Thomas’ style was too indirect for my taste. In her “Acknowledgements,” for instance, she says “If I did it well, the credit is entirely vertical.” That is her way of giving glory to God for her obedience, but, after reading that, I thought “Huh?” And that reminded me: I had a similar reaction throughout my reading of the book. “Huh?”
Amazon says that this is Book 3 of The Appalachian Blessings Series. That could be my problem: In reading A Tapestry of Secrets, I was jumping into the middle of the story without really knowing the characters. Yet, in reading summaries of the previous two books, I wonder if that was the problem. The first book was set in the distant past. (But I did recognize the name Casewell in reading a review of the first book, for it occurs in the third book.) The second book focused on other characters.
The book somewhat reminded me of the movie Steel Magnolias, but not so much in terms of the plot or specific characters. A Tapestry of Secrets reminded me of Steel Magnolias in that it had characters chatting about the mundane aspects of life, as if they were of great importance. Plus, a lot is going on. Some may prefer a book that is more linear and organized; others may think that the structure in A Tapestry of Secrets is truer to real life, which often is disorganized.
My reaction to the book is rather subjective, and someone else may read this book and have a different reaction. In terms of what Thomas could have done better, two things come to mind. First, the cover of the book could have said that this was part of a series. Second, the book could have specifically identified when it was narrating Perla’s past. At first, the book did that, but just once. Clearly identifying the time and setting of each part of the book can allow confused readers, like myself, to go back and reread parts and thus gain a clearer understanding.
My initial plan was to give this book two stars, but I give it three because it did have quite a few profound theological and religious discussions. Richard talks about how the church need not fear the destruction of its building, for the building is not what is important. Ella has thoughts about how Jesus experienced stress before his death, even though he believed that God would raise him from the dead. Keith (who was involved in the development project) gives a little speech about how the church welcomed him, and that was heartwarming.
The scenes in which characters think about the past were also insightful, and they made the characters look more vulnerable and real than the narrative itself did. Here, I am not speaking about Perla’s 1948 story, but rather such scenes as the ones about how characters met and married, and what kept them together.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.
Thursday, August 11, 2016
Book Write-Up: UnClobber, by Colby Martin
Colby Martin. Unclobber: Rethinking Our Misuse of the Bible on Homosexuality. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016. See here to purchase the book.
Colby Martin was a pastor at a megachurch. He was dismissed from his position when he posted a status on Facebook applauding the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). In UnClobber, Martin tells this story. Martin also offers an alternative interpretation of biblical passages that many Christians regard as opposed to same-sex intercourse. For Martin, the Bible, when properly understood, does not issue a blanket condemnation of homosexual relationships.
Here are some thoughts:
A. Martin’s story about how he came to an accepting position regarding homosexuality is different from many such stories. In many such stories, a conservative Christian naively thought that homosexuality was a sin until he met someone who was gay, and that transformed his perspective. Martin was a conservative Christian, but his background story is more complex than that. Martin discusses what may be roots of his later accepting position. When he was a child, he had a gay neighbor, and his mother accepted her as a neighbor, while still believing that homosexuality was a sin. But Martin somewhat minimizes this as a factor when he says that this gay neighbor was a distant memory to him. Martin says that a factor behind his accepting position was that he did not like the idea of rejecting people. Martin may be struggling to identify and to articulate what exactly led him to his current position. His story on this is neither smooth nor dramatic from a narrative standpoint, and so it does have a rather detached quality. Still, the story is honest: Martin does not try to make his story something that it is not.
B. While his attempts to describe the roots of his current position were somewhat muddled, his narration about his experiences with the megachurch and his attempts to find employment and God’s calling after that was vivid and compelling. Martin had stories about service and friendship, even with those with whom he disagreed. His stories had ups and downs: you think you have a “happily ever after,” then reality sets in! And Martin makes a reflective point about how the current Colby Martin differs from the Colby Martin who defended his position before the megachurch elders.
C. Are the parts of the book that concern biblical interpretation superfluous, in light of all of the books out there that offer a pro-gay (or at least not anti-homosexuality) interpretation of Scripture? I have not read the books that Justin Lee and Matthew Vines wrote about homosexuality. But I have read the late John Boswell’s works, and I heard a lecture in college a while back by a gay evangelical, who presented interpretations of Scripture that were not opposed to homosexual relationships. Even with that in my background, I still learned things that I did not know before in reading Martin’s book. Some examples: Martin refers to the work of Calvin Porter in arguing that Romans 1:26-27 does not reflect Paul’s actual perspective but is included for rhetorical purposes (to criticize the Jews who condemn Gentiles): Porter argued that God abandons people to their sins in Romans 1:26-27 but that Paul believed that God is faithful. Martin refers to a passage in which Augustine regards non-procreative sex as unnatural, and Martin believes that may be helpful in interpreting Romans 1:26-27. In discussing I Corinthians 6:9-10, Martin makes the usual points about malakos and arsenokoitai, but he looks at the other sins in that passage and concludes that the passage is condemning exploitative homosexual activity, not same-sex activity in general, and that exploitation is contrary to what God is doing in establishing the Kingdom of God.
D. Martin’s statements about the ancient context of biblical writings are sometimes impressive, and sometimes not. Martin notes that homosexual rape in the days of the Hebrew Bible was often a way of shaming people, and that this was what was going on in Genesis 19. Martin states that pederasty was becoming more stigmatized in the Greco-Roman world by the time of the apostle Paul. Martin includes a thoughtful discussion of eunuchs and how they included not only men whose genitals were cut off, but also men who naturally were not attracted to women, and they were accepted in early Christianity. These were areas in which Martin was impressive. Where was he unimpressive? Martin said that Paul would have been unaware of committed same-sex relationships, so Paul was not condemning them. But Martin should have interacted with scholars who argue the contrary: that committed, loving homosexual relationships existed in the ancient world. Robert Gagnon argues this on the conservative side, and Louis Crompton, who was a prominent figure in gay studies, also argued this. Overall, although Martin made relevant observations and consulted scholarly sources, he should have written more about how homosexuality or homosexual activity was viewed in the ancient world.
E. Martin’s interpretation of Leviticus 18:22 raised good questions, yet it was unsatisfactory. Martin asks why Leviticus 18:22 does not condemn sex between women, if its intention is to issue a blanket condemnation of same-sex intercourse. That is a good question. Martin also did well to do a word study of toevah (abomination), and he astutely noted that the term in the Bible sometimes applies to things that conservative Christians today deem acceptable (i.e., eating certain animals). Where was Martin’s interpretation unsatisfactory? Martin was trying to argue, on the basis of Hebrew language, that Leviticus 18:22 applies to a very specific case and is not a blanket condemnation of homosexuality. Martin’s arguments here were not very convincing (at least not to me) for a variety of reasons, but what was especially disappointing was that Martin did not specify what that very specific case in Leviticus 18:22 was, and he seemed to imply that the meaning is lost to us, since we did not live in that time. He should have at least speculated! (He may have been implying that Leviticus 18:22 condemns a man sleeping with a man rather than his own wife, or sleeping with a man in the bed in which he sleeps with his wife; Martin was unclear.) In addition, Martin argued that Leviticus 18:22 concerns the separation of Israel from the Gentiles. Martin ignored that Leviticus 18:30 criticizes the Canaanites for doing the acts condemned in Leviticus 18, which implies that God did not want Gentiles to do those acts, either.
F. Martin seems to acknowledge in one place that a gay person would have been stigmatized in ancient Israel. Martin’s response to this is that women were second-class in ancient Israel, too, but that does not mean women should be second-class now. Martin does deserve credit for honestly engaging this, even though his point here does seem to be in tension with the overall case that he is trying to make. Ancient Israel was a society that assumed and privileged heterosexuality as the norm, and the Hebrew Bible does not seem to contradict this. Similarly, while the apostle Paul sees celibacy as an option, he assumes that marriage is an institution between a man and a woman. Martin’s approach to the Scriptures is rather conservative, at least overall; Martin does flirt, somewhat, with progressive revelation in the book, but he appears, overall, to regard the Bible as inspired by God. That would explain his interest in what the Bible teaches, and his detailed look at biblical passages. But, if God inspired Scripture, as Martin assumes, and God wanted homosexuality to be accepted, why didn’t God explicitly say so?
G. Related to (F.), Martin addresses the question of whether relationships should influence one’s theological stances. He states that this occurred with Cornelius and Peter in the Book of Acts: Peter had a religious stance against Gentiles, God led him to Cornelius, and that led Peter to change his mind. Martin’s argument here can be critiqued, but Martin does well to highlight the importance of experience in the Bible, especially when some conservative Christians seem to set the Bible against experience and to say that the Bible should trump experience. Martin’s book perhaps could have been stronger had Martin also noted times in the Bible when biblical law seemed to be overridden in certain cases (or so one can argue): Deuteronomy 23, for example, bans people with crushed genitals and certain foreigners from the congregation of the LORD, but the Book of Ruth and Isaiah 56 arguably have a different view, one that is more inclusive. Martin occasionally points out that the Bible is not overly rigid, but the book would have been better had he made this more of a theme.
H. Martin should have addressed the criticism of same-sex intercourse within the history of biblical interpretation. If Martin’s interpretations are correct, why did so many Jewish and Christian interpreters throughout history miss that, or criticize same-sex intercourse?
While Martin was not always convincing, his book was an edifying, thought-provoking read. He could have been less dogmatic, in places, and instead tried to come across as one presenting different options, which was what he was essentially doing in his arguments. At the same time, his dogmatism may be a part of his strength and his vision.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher through Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
Colby Martin was a pastor at a megachurch. He was dismissed from his position when he posted a status on Facebook applauding the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). In UnClobber, Martin tells this story. Martin also offers an alternative interpretation of biblical passages that many Christians regard as opposed to same-sex intercourse. For Martin, the Bible, when properly understood, does not issue a blanket condemnation of homosexual relationships.
Here are some thoughts:
A. Martin’s story about how he came to an accepting position regarding homosexuality is different from many such stories. In many such stories, a conservative Christian naively thought that homosexuality was a sin until he met someone who was gay, and that transformed his perspective. Martin was a conservative Christian, but his background story is more complex than that. Martin discusses what may be roots of his later accepting position. When he was a child, he had a gay neighbor, and his mother accepted her as a neighbor, while still believing that homosexuality was a sin. But Martin somewhat minimizes this as a factor when he says that this gay neighbor was a distant memory to him. Martin says that a factor behind his accepting position was that he did not like the idea of rejecting people. Martin may be struggling to identify and to articulate what exactly led him to his current position. His story on this is neither smooth nor dramatic from a narrative standpoint, and so it does have a rather detached quality. Still, the story is honest: Martin does not try to make his story something that it is not.
B. While his attempts to describe the roots of his current position were somewhat muddled, his narration about his experiences with the megachurch and his attempts to find employment and God’s calling after that was vivid and compelling. Martin had stories about service and friendship, even with those with whom he disagreed. His stories had ups and downs: you think you have a “happily ever after,” then reality sets in! And Martin makes a reflective point about how the current Colby Martin differs from the Colby Martin who defended his position before the megachurch elders.
C. Are the parts of the book that concern biblical interpretation superfluous, in light of all of the books out there that offer a pro-gay (or at least not anti-homosexuality) interpretation of Scripture? I have not read the books that Justin Lee and Matthew Vines wrote about homosexuality. But I have read the late John Boswell’s works, and I heard a lecture in college a while back by a gay evangelical, who presented interpretations of Scripture that were not opposed to homosexual relationships. Even with that in my background, I still learned things that I did not know before in reading Martin’s book. Some examples: Martin refers to the work of Calvin Porter in arguing that Romans 1:26-27 does not reflect Paul’s actual perspective but is included for rhetorical purposes (to criticize the Jews who condemn Gentiles): Porter argued that God abandons people to their sins in Romans 1:26-27 but that Paul believed that God is faithful. Martin refers to a passage in which Augustine regards non-procreative sex as unnatural, and Martin believes that may be helpful in interpreting Romans 1:26-27. In discussing I Corinthians 6:9-10, Martin makes the usual points about malakos and arsenokoitai, but he looks at the other sins in that passage and concludes that the passage is condemning exploitative homosexual activity, not same-sex activity in general, and that exploitation is contrary to what God is doing in establishing the Kingdom of God.
D. Martin’s statements about the ancient context of biblical writings are sometimes impressive, and sometimes not. Martin notes that homosexual rape in the days of the Hebrew Bible was often a way of shaming people, and that this was what was going on in Genesis 19. Martin states that pederasty was becoming more stigmatized in the Greco-Roman world by the time of the apostle Paul. Martin includes a thoughtful discussion of eunuchs and how they included not only men whose genitals were cut off, but also men who naturally were not attracted to women, and they were accepted in early Christianity. These were areas in which Martin was impressive. Where was he unimpressive? Martin said that Paul would have been unaware of committed same-sex relationships, so Paul was not condemning them. But Martin should have interacted with scholars who argue the contrary: that committed, loving homosexual relationships existed in the ancient world. Robert Gagnon argues this on the conservative side, and Louis Crompton, who was a prominent figure in gay studies, also argued this. Overall, although Martin made relevant observations and consulted scholarly sources, he should have written more about how homosexuality or homosexual activity was viewed in the ancient world.
E. Martin’s interpretation of Leviticus 18:22 raised good questions, yet it was unsatisfactory. Martin asks why Leviticus 18:22 does not condemn sex between women, if its intention is to issue a blanket condemnation of same-sex intercourse. That is a good question. Martin also did well to do a word study of toevah (abomination), and he astutely noted that the term in the Bible sometimes applies to things that conservative Christians today deem acceptable (i.e., eating certain animals). Where was Martin’s interpretation unsatisfactory? Martin was trying to argue, on the basis of Hebrew language, that Leviticus 18:22 applies to a very specific case and is not a blanket condemnation of homosexuality. Martin’s arguments here were not very convincing (at least not to me) for a variety of reasons, but what was especially disappointing was that Martin did not specify what that very specific case in Leviticus 18:22 was, and he seemed to imply that the meaning is lost to us, since we did not live in that time. He should have at least speculated! (He may have been implying that Leviticus 18:22 condemns a man sleeping with a man rather than his own wife, or sleeping with a man in the bed in which he sleeps with his wife; Martin was unclear.) In addition, Martin argued that Leviticus 18:22 concerns the separation of Israel from the Gentiles. Martin ignored that Leviticus 18:30 criticizes the Canaanites for doing the acts condemned in Leviticus 18, which implies that God did not want Gentiles to do those acts, either.
F. Martin seems to acknowledge in one place that a gay person would have been stigmatized in ancient Israel. Martin’s response to this is that women were second-class in ancient Israel, too, but that does not mean women should be second-class now. Martin does deserve credit for honestly engaging this, even though his point here does seem to be in tension with the overall case that he is trying to make. Ancient Israel was a society that assumed and privileged heterosexuality as the norm, and the Hebrew Bible does not seem to contradict this. Similarly, while the apostle Paul sees celibacy as an option, he assumes that marriage is an institution between a man and a woman. Martin’s approach to the Scriptures is rather conservative, at least overall; Martin does flirt, somewhat, with progressive revelation in the book, but he appears, overall, to regard the Bible as inspired by God. That would explain his interest in what the Bible teaches, and his detailed look at biblical passages. But, if God inspired Scripture, as Martin assumes, and God wanted homosexuality to be accepted, why didn’t God explicitly say so?
G. Related to (F.), Martin addresses the question of whether relationships should influence one’s theological stances. He states that this occurred with Cornelius and Peter in the Book of Acts: Peter had a religious stance against Gentiles, God led him to Cornelius, and that led Peter to change his mind. Martin’s argument here can be critiqued, but Martin does well to highlight the importance of experience in the Bible, especially when some conservative Christians seem to set the Bible against experience and to say that the Bible should trump experience. Martin’s book perhaps could have been stronger had Martin also noted times in the Bible when biblical law seemed to be overridden in certain cases (or so one can argue): Deuteronomy 23, for example, bans people with crushed genitals and certain foreigners from the congregation of the LORD, but the Book of Ruth and Isaiah 56 arguably have a different view, one that is more inclusive. Martin occasionally points out that the Bible is not overly rigid, but the book would have been better had he made this more of a theme.
H. Martin should have addressed the criticism of same-sex intercourse within the history of biblical interpretation. If Martin’s interpretations are correct, why did so many Jewish and Christian interpreters throughout history miss that, or criticize same-sex intercourse?
While Martin was not always convincing, his book was an edifying, thought-provoking read. He could have been less dogmatic, in places, and instead tried to come across as one presenting different options, which was what he was essentially doing in his arguments. At the same time, his dogmatism may be a part of his strength and his vision.
I received a complimentary review copy of this book from the publisher through Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
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