Copy of Dealing with Loss (Great and Small): A Theological Reflection on Faith

Honestly, I despise words of “comfort” that many suffering Christians receive. The kind that interprets horrific events as lessons from God or “blessings in disguise” or, perhaps on the positive side, the promise of the American Dream: If I trust God I will get a great and/or fulfilling job, and be successful. Maybe on a good day someone will simply say, “all things will turn out for good.” If by the latter one means the resurrection, consummation of the kingdom and transformation of humanity and the world—then yes, I agree!

A relationship with God is more complicated than a reliance on someone who rewards good behavior with earthly blessings or on one who requires you to have a positive cheerful attitude at all times (just read Job or the Prophets!). The God of the Bible became a human being. He was not a Jesus who laughed next to the cross, but who lived in poverty, was often rejected, betrayed by friends and died at a young age. The God of the Bible is also the one who was continually betrayed and denied by the people he blessed over the years throughout the Old Testament.

So lets cut to the chase. What happened recently? Nick and I recently discovered that nearly all of our funding for school has been suddenly cut off starting in 2017. Why? The answer is complicated. It is enough to say that the church that was helping us (and others) were afraid and made a decision in haste. They do not owe us anything and I am immensely thankful for the help they have provided us over the years. Still, this leaves Nick and I in a bind because this announcement came after other scholarship and loan applications ended. This threatens what I have worked much of my life towards and the dream Nick and I have for teaching Bible and theology at a university or seminary one day for a living.

But I’ve got faith in God. I believe if he wants us to fulfill these dreams he will make a way. He may not. I know what it is like to trust God through child abuse and back injuries that left me constantly exhausted through a good portion of life. God did not make the adult who abused me over many years stop. What he did do was come alongside me in my suffering and fought the lies about my personhood, taught me how to live, that I was loved and to love others. He taught me from another unusual event (that I may speak about in the future) that his wondrous and good presence is everywhere despite appearances. 

To sum everything up, I believe Jesus has indeed lived, died and rose again for the sins and glorification of humanity and that his kingdom is breaking into the present. I trust in God, not in the American dream. Evil and difficulties may persist for a time, but God’s kingdom has already been inaugurated and will soon be consummated.

"Sing a song full of hope that the present has brought us; facing the rising sun of our new day begun, let us march on till victory is won."

-AQ

Prodigals, Famine and the Point of the Story

We are all familiar with this story.

In Luke 15:11-32, we have the familiar story of the prodigal son, who demanded his inheritance and went off into a different land.

We know this story, where the son demands, takes, and squanders.

I thought I knew this story too.

In my third quarter in seminary, I wrote a paper on this parable, and glossed over an important part, an important part that other writers had noticed. These writers were from Africa, and these commentators put their finger on something I had glossed over.

The word λιμὸς (“famine”) is used in 15:14. This word refers to famine, or hunger, or starvation. It speaks of deprivation, of rumbling stomachs, of a society that is known as barren and lost.

Paul uses the term in that famous “golden chain” in Romans 8, where he speaks about τίς ἡμᾶς χωρίσει ἀπὸ τῆς ἀγάπης τοῦ Χριστοῦ; θλῖψις ἢ στενοχωρία ἢ διωγμὸς ἢ λιμὸς ἢ γυμνότης ἢ κίνδυνος ἢ μάχαιρα – “what will separate us from the love of Christ? Oppression or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?”

These are not distant realities in the ancient world. If there were a Palestinian Times or a Roman York Post, these realities would be front and center. Reports at 11.

Paul’s intent is to assert the base obviousness of the world of destitution, that is, a world oppressed by Sin and Death, utterly unmoored from God and God’s love.

Of course, Jesus does not tell us where this country is, or what it symbolizes. We can all imagine what kind of country he is using.

In ancient mythology, one could speculate that the famine is because of God’s judgment. Or because of bad luck, or blind determinism or fate. In any sense, λιμὸς signifies those who are destitute, or hungry, or trapped in a situation that signifies the inevitability of death.

Luke tells us that after he had squandered everything, he was the first to be destitute (ἤρξατο ὑστερεῖσθαι). A foreigner, presumably, is the first person amongst the naturalized citizens to be without something.

To put it colloquially, the son “pissed away” his wealth, and then the entire country began to enter a famine.

In other texts in the New Testament, λιμὸς is often connected with the word for “nakedness” (γυμνότης), which drives home the image of being entirely without protection, care, or community (cf. 2 Cor. 11:27; Rev. 3:18). The adjective γυμνὸς occurs more often.

I don’t make much, and Allison does not either. We make enough to eat, sleep and turn on the AC once in a while. But we have never been without something.

So this text is pushing the image of destitution, of communal despondency. As in, they did not give him anything (15:16). They had nothing to spare themselves.

Part of me really hates this prodigal son, particularly because of his wealth and seeming disinterest in his community. He looks like the type of rich kid who has everything he or she has ever wanted, and has never seen pain or sorrow.

Part of me is grateful they never have.

But the point of this story is not the son.

The point is the generosity of the father. The use of the aorist middle verb ἤρξαντο occurs both in vv.14 and 24, first on the lips of Jesus (the narrator) and once on the lips of the father.

This story is not about the prodigal who was first to be destitute in a strange and oppressed land, himself likely a figure of high status and caliber; rather it is about the father who describes his prodigal as ἤρξαντο εὐφραίνεσθαι (“first to be found”). 

This parable displays the character of the father toward the prodigal, who even though he squandered the life’s wealth of the father, is still considered family.

He brings his son in, and clothes him, feeds him, honors him.

On the one hand, it feels simple, even trite.

But to those who have sinned in a catastrophic manner, it may mean the world.

To those who are hungry, a loving father is willing to still give, even after being taken advantage of.

It is not an act of grace; it is an act of Christ.

For those who are prodigals, in the midst of famine, sometimes Christ shows up even in the midst of parables written thousands of years ago.

Sometimes stories about pain, oppression and suffering are what is needed to paint a picture of a reality that is missed or forgotten.

The point of this story is not the son.

NQ

Preaching Stuff you Learn in Seminary

Seminary is a place where the more troublesome aspects of Scripture and history lay, waiting for exposition and exploration. Issues such as pseudepigraphy, tensions in the gospels, and the various problems of inheriting tradition come to mind right off the bat.

However, I’ve been thinking about a conversation I had with friends of mine (they know who they are): how do you preach technical issues in Scripture? If a pericope or sentence is disputed, do you preach it like 1 Cor. 14:34-35? If Paul didn’t write the Pastoral Epistles, can you preach on it, based on your view of pseudepigraphy? How does pseudepigraphy relate to inspiration? If Jesus didn’t say anything in the Gospel of John, can you say with sincerity that “Jesus said…”? Its one of the many questions I have, mostly because I’ve not gone through two years of seminary and have preached on most of these issues.

I won’t pretend to solve all of this in a single post, and I invite my preacher friends—gals and guys—to comment on social media with their own perspectives on these issues. For me, I will only offer some insights I have based on my experiences.

Regarding debated portions of Scripture, last year I gave a whirlwind summary of the entirety of 1 Corinthians at my home church. I quite literally went from chapter one to chapter 16. There is a lot of complex and debated material in 1 Corinthians to cover, everything from sexual immorality in ch5-6, gender in ch11 and 14, and so on. I tackled these issues based on my own exegesis of the relevant texts and contexts, and when I came to 14:34-35 I had a bit of a dilemma:

Do I even mention there is a debate about these two verses?

So, without any real hesitation, I delved into the textual issues regarding these two verses and explained to the congregation that these verses were most likely later additions—i.e. an interpolation to the original text, and thus carried no apostolic weight. To my surprise, nobody raised a fuss, and even some people said it made sense to them, based on the rest of the Biblical witness to women in ministry (he specifically cited Junia in Rom. 16:7 as an example).

So, in this one instance, introducing disputed historical debates worked well. It even seemed to encourage the congregation, as it affirmed a basic commitment to Scripture’s integrity. A woman did come up later and ask, but I had my Greek New Testament and was able to show her some critical marks in there, and she was impressed at the veracity of the text.

This is but one situation, and not every situation is comparable. It depends on one’s community, and not every community is open or interested in such debates. To be honest, I’m not entirely certain a pastor should be preaching these issues from her pulpit, unless it is vital to her sermon.

Another instance I recall is when I preached on 1 Cor. 15 and advent. I preached on the nature of destruction, and included my view that human beings are physical creatures that are not souls. In essence, I preached a physicalist or monistic view of anthropology. This seemed to cause some discomfort, but only until I got to the portions of Scripture that talk about SOMA, and I tied this directly to the doctrine of resurrection and the goodness of creation and the body. Then, I could see that the dualistic assumptions on the part of some people washed away and they “got” it. I concluded my teaching sermon on 1 Cor. 15:26 and the destruction of death, which signifies the utter annihilation of the final enemy.

While I did not explicitly teach my view of hell, I was able to use biblical language to describe how Paul viewed the end of evil and wickedness. I then had them verbally read Psalm 110 and when I reread 1 Cor. 15:20-26, their eyes lit up.

I was moved to see their own realization of their own humanness, and some people came up to me later to ask about what “hell” it. It was a teaching moment, and I was challenged, and mentioned that the dominant language in the New Testament signifies destruction. Some of them nodded politely and moved on, and one woman asked me if this meant that nobody would be in hell ever.

I paused, and said, “evil cannot exist in God’s new creation.” That seemed to satisfy her, and the sermon, I’m told, was very well received after that.

So it depends on the context in which you preach. For me, I was able to tackle multiple issues within a very short time, and I fielded questions afterward. Sometimes it wouldn’t help people to know about ancient manuscripts. Sometimes, a Greek word could mean an entire paradigm shift on the part of your community.

Scripture is alive after all, waiting to be taught with the full authority is bears. Be sensitive to the text, and especially be sensitive to your community. When Allison and I taught through the Epistle to the Ephesians, our eyes were opened to the needs of our church, and the critical issues dropped by the side of the proverbial road. We mentioned them, but they did not entirely help our particular conclusions. Sometimes these issues don't help. Sometimes they do.

In any sense, honesty is necessary to good preaching. I was the one kid in church would, upon learning that "hell" existed, pestered my poor youth pastor with questions until he could not longer think straight. While I still harbor some resentment over being ignored and dismissed, I suspect it too was a teaching moment: sometimes the critical issues could save a person's faith. Sometimes, you could be surprised by the complexities of Scripture.

NQ

All that Glitters: A Brief Reflection on Wealth in 1 Tim. 6:17

Τοῖς πλουσίοις ἐν τῷ νῦν αἰῶνι παράγγελλε μὴ ὑψηλοφρονεῖν μηδὲ ἠλπικέναι ἐπὶ πλούτου ἀδηλότητι, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπὶ θεῷ τῷ παρέχοντι ἡμῖν πάντα πλουσίως εἰς ἀπόλαυσιν

“To the rich ones in the present age, command them to not be prideful nor to hope upon the uncertainty of riches, but upon God who is presenting to us all things richly for enjoyment.” 1 Tim. 6:17.

I’ve been attempting to write a future Ph.D dissertation proposal, and came across this text in 1 Timothy and it stuck with me. My wife and I are having some financial turbulence and living paycheck to paycheck is always a rough ride. However, in thinking about this text within the pericope in chapter 6, it seems that a disparity between rich and poor is percolating behind the scenes.

See for example:

·      (V.9) “But those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction.”

·      (V.10) “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.”

Paul’s concern for the poor has been well documented, especially in recent works by David Downs and Bruce Longenecker. As the articular dative adjective πλουσίοις suggests, the author is directly addressing members of the congregation, this being the wealthy ones. While the poor could indeed own slaves, the context seems to suggest that these rich ones are slave owners (c.f. 6:1-2). Leaving aside the thorny issue of slavery in Paul, the direct address, followed by the imperative παράγγελλε, suggests a possible counter to the brief commentary on slaves in vv.1-2.

The interplay between the adjective and the nouns for “riches” is curious, as the materiality of wealthy is devalued by the author—serving as a “temporal” reality (ἀδηλότητι). Material possession, it is suggested, is limited to this world.

For those of us in turbulent times (as I suspect most of us are), this text bothers me. Not in a negative way per se, but it got under my skin pretty good. What about those who do not have wealth or sustainment?

Well, the answer seemingly lies in v.18, where the rich are enjoined to be “generous” (εὐμεταδότους) with the poor. The futurism mentality of the author shines through here, as this is a rhetorical maneuver to make it ‘appropriate’ for the wealthy to be generous. They give now, so that their futures are bound to eternal life. The poor are thus dependent upon the mandated generosity of the wealthy, which may have interesting implications. Something to chew on, perhaps.

The church, early on, was marked by generosity and the sharing of possessions; here, it seems, it took a little longer for them to get the hang of it. This brings me great comfort that many women and men in the early church were not unlike many of us today (just read the news, hint hint). The statement "into ruin and destruction" (v.9) is surprising. The use of εἰς ὄλεθρον καὶ ἀπώλειαν suggests both a present actuality (poverty resulting in material destruction and even death) and also perhaps eschatological destruction (due to disregard of the body or exploitation therein). In the times I've wondered what it would be like to be rich and have millions of dollars, this text now makes me reconsider those fantasies.

Plus my chances of winning the lotto are like 1 in 2,048,086,421 or something.

While that may not put a comma in my bank account, it does remind me that the poor will always be among us, and that even in our current state, generosity is the name of the game.

There is much more that could be said, but I will leave it there. Just some brief thoughts, nothing more.

NQ

Christ, The Totality of God

I was reflecting this morning about Paul’s Christology (which is a massive debate in Pauline studies at the moment), and I recalled a brief exposition I gave about Colossians 1-2 and two with my wife at a Bible study.

She preached on the so-called “Christ-hymn” in Colossians 1:15-20, and afterward we discussed with the church the nature of Christ’s divinity according to Colossians.

In verse 19, we have this: ὅτι ἐν αὐτῷ εὐδόκησεν πᾶν τὸ πλήρωμα κατοικῆσαι— “For in him the fullness [of God] was delighted to dwell.” (NRQT).

In a similar passage in 2:9 we have similar language being applied to Christ.

ὅτι ἐν αὐτῷ κατοικεῖ πᾶν τὸ πλήρωμα τῆς θεότητος σωματικῶς—“For in him dwells all of the totality of Deity bodily.” (NRQT).

In both texts we have the language of “fullness” and “dwelling,” including the hapax legomena θεότητος (a feminine noun). The noun πλήρωμα occurs in the same form in both instances, and it is lexically defined as “fullness, sum total, and completion.” It is used over a dozen times throughout the New Testament—most often in Paul’s writings. This word is applied both to God the Father (Eph. 3:19) and to the Messiah (Eph. 4:13), and it suggests that Paul is not concerned with applying the term equally to both persons.

The use of σωματικῶς in 2:9 is a frame or description of the articular τῆς θεότητος, intending to describe the indescribable. In some sense, perhaps this is an echo of Col. 1:15:

ὅς ἐστιν εἰκὼν τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ἀοράτου—“Who [that is, Christ] is the image of the unseen God.” (NRQT).

Christ, then is both the sum total or totality of deity in bodily form, represented and enshrined as flesh—as σωματικῶς—for all to see. The beauty of σωματικῶς is that you can see it, and Christ was indeed imaged and seen. He is the εἰκὼν of God (c.f. 2 Cor. 4:4), embodying God to us and for us.

So what does this mean?

This means that Christ was a human person, subjected to the same foibles, pains, and oppression that all people face. It means that Christ willfully entered this sphere of Death’s dominion, illuminated by God’s deity, representing God to us.

Christ, then, is the enfleshment of God before us. If you want to know what the unseen God is like, what he does, and what he thinks, look to Christ—the one who is the εἰκὼν, the representative, the totality of God in bodily form. Without Christ, we have no way to conceive of God.

Hence, the miracle and necessity of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection. He became σωματικῶς to show us τῆς θεότητος in order for us to participate as an εἰκὼν of God. The tangibility of Christ means that the material world is good, and that God is concerned to redeem it—not leave it to die.

NQ

The Image of Dust: A Brief Reflection on 1 Cor. 15

Thinking about death is always an exercise in futility, pondering the inevitable and the unstoppable. It always makes for a good time at the dinner table.

Anyway.

In 1 Corinthians 15:46-49 Paul, after using a seed analogy throughout the first few verses in this pericope, focuses on the contrastive aspect of Christ and Adam. Adam, here, is likely typological in some sense, functioning as an antitype of Christ.

Adam’s origins, however, are under dispute and the debate about the existence of a ‘historical’ Adam are raging—at least in certain parts of the evangelical fold. However, Paul uses εἰκών (“image”) seems to specify a type of ‘material similarity’—which is specifically, in the genitive tense, χοϊκοῦ. An εἰκών represents something unseen (c.f. Col. 1:15-20) and is also a disjunction between the conceptual and the purely material. Christ, in a sense, is the revelation of God. As it says, he is God's fullness (Col. 2:9).

However, human beings are defined as χοϊκοῦ (“dust, earth”), as bearing that specific image in our present state. Human life, presently defined, is marked by pain, dust, and toil. It was then, and any glance on the evening news reveals that this painful aorist aspect is still ongoing.

In short, we are dust.

As a physicalist (or monist, I suppose) this is nothing new. Being in Adam's image means that we lack anything remotely like God: immortality.

Bearing the image of Adam, we share in mortality, in sin, and ultimately are subject to Death. That is what happens to material things, they breathe, bleed, and die. Then there is nothing.

Paul’s own historical context was not immune to this, and any pleasure was fleeting and likely immoral by Paul’s own moral standards. Ancient economics dictated that people were left to fend for themselves, to die in the streets, alone and barren.

Paul’s subsequent language regarding “immortality” (ἀθανασίαν) is a remarkable claim, especially to the poor and destitute. The totality of the populace likely lived in strict poverty, and any sort of religious cult likely included a high entrance fee.

God, it seems, is willing to offer ἀθανασίαν to the poor and the oppressed. The interplay between verbs (ἐφορέσαμεν; φορέσομεν) in v.49 is clear: a present and ongoing reality versus a future hope is something that we bear, and will bear through participation in Christ.

To God, we are not merely dust.

In the eschaton, we will be defined as being “fully human.”

That is Paul’s greatest hope, and one that I deeply share. Resurrection of the body is the direct counter to the totality of the human experience, and means that one is not alone in the universe, and one is not discarded by God.

Sounds good to me.

NQ

Dealing with Loss (Great and Small): A Theological Reflection on Faith

Honestly, I despise words of “comfort” that many suffering Christians receive. The kind that interprets horrific events as lessons from God or “blessings in disguise” or, perhaps on the positive side, the promise of the American Dream: If I trust God I will get a great and/or fulfilling job, and be successful. Maybe on a good day someone will simply say, “all things will turn out for good.” If by the latter one means the resurrection, consummation of the kingdom and transformation of humanity and the world—then yes, I agree!

A relationship with God is more complicated than a reliance on someone who rewards good behavior with earthly blessings or on one who requires you to have a positive cheerful attitude at all times (just read Job or the Prophets!). The God of the Bible became a human being. He was not a Jesus who laughed next to the cross, but who lived in poverty, was often rejected, betrayed by friends and died at a young age. The God of the Bible is also the one who was continually betrayed and denied by the people he blessed over the years throughout the Old Testament.

So lets cut to the chase. What happened recently? Nick and I recently discovered that nearly all of our funding for school has been suddenly cut off starting in 2017. Why? The answer is complicated. It is enough to say that the church that was helping us (and others) were afraid and made a decision in haste. They do not owe us anything and I am immensely thankful for the help they have provided us over the years. Still, this leaves Nick and I in a bind because this announcement came after other scholarship and loan applications ended. This threatens what I have worked much of my life towards and the dream Nick and I have for teaching Bible and theology at a university or seminary one day for a living.

But I’ve got faith in God. I believe if he wants us to fulfill these dreams he will make a way. He may not. I know what it is like to trust God through child abuse and back injuries that left me constantly exhausted through a good portion of life. God did not make the adult who abused me over many years stop. What he did do was come alongside me in my suffering and fought the lies about my personhood, taught me how to live, that I was loved and to love others. He taught me from another unusual event (that I may speak about in the future) that his wondrous and good presence is everywhere despite appearances. 

To sum everything up, I believe Jesus has indeed lived, died and rose again for the sins and glorification of humanity and that his kingdom is breaking into the present. I trust in God, not in the American dream. Evil and difficulties may persist for a time, but God’s kingdom has already been inaugurated and will soon be consummated.

"Sing a song full of hope that the present has brought us; facing the rising sun of our new day begun, let us march on till victory is won."

-AQ