Archives For Theology

Rich Bledsoe writes:

The book of Hebrews speaks of the “deceitfulness of sin.” Once sin is unmasked one way, it transmutes itself like a virus into a slightly different form that is immune to the old antidotes. We live in the very odd day when the Christian Gospels have done a great deal of work to unmask what was invisible to the ancient world in regard to the victim. But now in many cases the garb of victimhood can be donned in order to victimize others, in order to persecute. The persecuted have in many cases become the persecutors, and it is necessary to understand that victimhood is not an automatic ticket to righteousness or moral superiority. Several recent theological perspectives have granted to victims a special status and even an “epistemological advantage”, meaning that only victims really see the world as it is. In all of this thicket, it is essential to highlight the fact that Jesus was not in the final analysis a victim, and He did not pioneer the way to make victimization profitable, but he opened the way to overcome and create a new social order that is truly based on righteousness.

Read the whole article here.

Atonement Theories

February 23, 2011 — 1 Comment

“Inasmuch then as the children have partaken of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise shared in the same, that through death He might destroy him who had the power of death, that is, the devil, and release those who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage. For indeed He does not give aid to angels, but He does give aid to the seed to Abraham. Therefore, in all things He had to be made like His brethren, that He might be a merciful and faithful High Priest in things pertaining to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.” (Heb. 2:14-17)

Seems like this is a key atonement passage. Here, we have shades of substitution, Christus Victor, and the exemplary theories of the atonement.

“The biblical God is not eternally himself in that he persistently instantiates a beginning in which he already is all that he ever will be; he is eternally himself in that he unrestrictedly anticipates an end in which he will be all he ever could be.

. . .

Thus the revelatory content of the Exodus was not mere escape from the Egyptian past but the future that the escape opened: ‘You have seen … how I … brought you to myself. Now therefore, if you obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be …’ And this was a true, that is, risky, future: in Israel’s memory, Exodus was inseparable from forty years’ wandering in the desert, in which the Lord figures as the dangerous leader of a journey whose final end was geographically chancy and temporally unknown, and whose possibility depended every morning on the Lord’s new mercy.

. . .

Gods who identity lies in the persistence of a beginning are cultivated because in them we are secure against the threatening future. The gods of the nations are guarantors of continuity and return, against the daily threat to fragile established order; indeed, they are Continuity and Return. The Lord’s meaning for Israel is the opposite: the archetypically established order of Egypt was the very damnation from which the Lord released her into being, and what she thereby entered was the insecurity of the desert. Her God is not salvific because he defends against the future but because he poses it.”

-Robert Jenson, Systematic Theology Vol. 1, 66-67.

Bible First

February 1, 2011 — Leave a comment

“We teach first the Bible and then the confessions, the Bible because it is God speaking to his people, and the confessions because they are the church speaking to God, answering his Word.”

-Donald Van Dyken, Rediscovering Catechism, 56.

Christ and Nothing

September 17, 2010 — 1 Comment

If you have never read David Bentley Hart’s essay “Christ and Nothing,” you need to.

Here it is: http://www.orthodoxytoday.org/articles2/HartChrist.shtml

And now you have no excuses.

“All men seek happiness. This is without exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end. The cause of some going to war, and of others avoiding it, is the same desire in both, attended with different views. The will never takes the least step but to this object. This is the motive of every action of every man, even of those who hang themselves.” — Blaise Pascal

(Cited in Desiring God by John Piper, P. 19)

The Kingdom of God is like water on concrete. At first glance it seems that concrete and asphalt ought to have the upper hand. Water, at least in small portions, cannot overcome the pavement. But water does it’s work quietly. It runs along casually finding the cracks and crevices and weak spots in cement, and the Spirit of God blows his fierce frosty air over the waters causing them to freeze and expand, and the concrete cannot withstand the pressure. Asphalt crumbles, pavement cracks and breaks apart, potholes appear, and hard heart after hard heart is burst into pieces by the water and the Spirit.

A few excerpts from N.T. Wright’s Simply Christian:

“The fulfillment of the Torah by the Spirit is one of the main themes underlying the spectacular description in Acts 2, or the day of Pentecost itself. To this day, Pentecost is observed in Judaism as the feast of the giving of the Law. First comes Passover, the day when the Israelites leave their Egyptian slavery behind for good. Off they go through the desert, and fifty days later they reach Mount Sinai. Moses goes up the mountain and comes down with the Law, the tablets of the covenant, God’s gift to his people of the way of life by which they will be able to demonstrate that they are really his people.

This is the picture we ought to have in mind as we read Acts 2. The previous Passover, Jesus had died and been raised, opening the way out of slavery, the way to forgiveness and a new start for the whole world — especially for all those who follow him. Now, fifty days later, Jesus has been taken into ‘heaven,’ into God’s dimension of reality; but, like Moses, he comes down again to ratify the renewed covenant and to provide the way of life, written not on stone but in human hearts, by which Jesus’s followers may gratefully demonstrate that they really are his people.” (132-133)

On reading Scripture in worship:

“Reading scripture in worship is, first and foremost, the central way of celebrating who God is and what he’s done.

Let me put it like this. The room I am sitting in at the moment has quite small windows. If I stand at the other side of the room, I can see only a little of what is outside — part of the house opposite, and a tiny bit of sky. But if I go up close to the window, I can see trees, fields, animals, the sea, the hills in the distance.

It sometimes feels as though two or three short biblical readings are rather like the windows seen from the other side of the room. We can’t see very much through them. But as we get to know the Bible better, we get close and closer to the windows (as it were), so that, without the windows having gotten any bigger, we can glimpse the entire sweep of the biblical countryside.” (150-151)

On the sacrament:

“Like the children of Israel still in the wilderness, tasting food which the spies had brought back from their secret trip to the Promised Land, in the bread-breaking we are tasting God’s new creation — the new creation whose prototype and origin is Jesus himself.” (154)

“…[T]here has been endless confusion over the relationship between the bread-breaking service and the sacrifice offered by Jesus on the cross. Catholics have usually said they were one and the same, to which Protestants have replied that Catholic interpretation looks like an attempt to repeat something which was done once and once only, and can never be done again. Protestants have usually said that the bread-breaking service is a different sacrifice to the one offered by Jesus — they see it as a “sacrifice of praise” offered by the worshippers — to which Catholics have responded that the Protestant interpretation looks like an attempt to add something to the already complete offering of Jesus, which (they say) becomes “sacramentally” present in the bread and the wine.” (156)

N.T. Wright points out that in the ancient world, and even in parts of the modern world, rulers often “set up statues of themselves in prominent places, not so much in their own home territory (where everyone knew who they were and recognized that they were in charge), but in foreign or far-flung dominions… For an emperor, the point of placing an image of yourself in the subject territory was that the subjects in that country would be reminded that you were their ruler, and would conduct themselves accordingly.” (Simply Christian, 37)

While clearly the instinct to set up image-reminders in foreign jurisdictions comes from God himself, the point is worth remembering. People, as icons of the God of heaven, should be constant reminders to us to conduct ourselves according to the justice of the God of heaven. The Trinity has been pleased to fill this world with living pictures, breathing images of himself in order to remind us that he is King of this world.

It’s also worth pointing out that the image of God in people means that on a fundamental level, people are like God. And of course that has been distorted and bent in various ways through sin, but it’s still there all the same. In some sense, every human being should remind us of the Father, Son, and Spirit.

Finney explains the basic outline of the gospel he preached: “I insisted upon the voluntary moral depravity of the unconverted, and the unalterable necessity of a radical change of heart by the Holy Spirit and by means of the truth.” (66)