Purim and the woman whose courage is worth celebrating

Strangely absent throughout the book of Esther is any mention of God. His name is never invoked, never spoken, even by the devout Jew Mordecai, Esther's uncle. Yet, in reading the whole story of Esther and the Jewish people under subjugation to the Persians, the hand of God is evident in every detail.

The Jews, dispersed throughout the kingdom of Ahasuerus (the king's title, not his name), are to be exterminated. The evil Haman has prevailed upon the king to issue a decree because he is angry with Mordecai for refusing to bow to him. Mordecai, however, appeals to Esther, whom Ahasuerus had chosen as queen in place of Vashti, to plead the cause of her people before the king. Esther is initially reluctant, citing the law that one must be called by the king in order to enter his inner court. Having not been "called to come to the king these thirty days" (4:11), Esther does not wish to imperil her own life.

"Do not think to yourself that in the king's palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews," Mordecai warns her. "For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish" (4:13-14a). In other words, imperiling her own life is precisely what Esther will be doing if she remains silent. Mordecai has faith that God, though his name is not mentioned, will deliver his people in some way. He knows the decree against the Jews will not have its intended result. He also knows that Esther, being providentially placed in a position of authority at a time when she can be used as God's instrument of deliverance, would not be saving herself but condemning herself if she fails to act. "And who knows," asks Mordecai, "whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" (4:14b).

Mordecai's response emboldens Esther. She calls on all the Jews in Susa to fast on her behalf as he prepares to approach the king. Being a Jew in the palace will not protect her from the king's decree, but her presence there is no mere coincidence. God, though his name is not mentioned, has placed her there for the purpose of saving his people and making his name known throughout the kingdom.

Haman is one of the most detestable characters in the entire biblical narrative. His jealous hatred for Mordecai and, consequently, for all the Jews is utterly irrational, driven by an inflated sense of his own importance. While the crowds bow in his presence, Mordecai reminds Haman he is only, after all, a man. It is a reminder Haman would rather live without.

In having the king honor Haman with a banquet (5:4), Esther sets the trap which will ultimately lead to Haman's downfall. Haman has no idea that the queen whose favor he thinks he has won is the niece of the hated Mordecai, whose refusal to reverence him still angers Haman even after the banquet.

It is difficult to imagine a man so consumed by hatred as Haman. His pride will be his undoing. His boasting to his family (5:12) is a cover for the prick on his conscience that Mordecai is (5:13). Haman dreams of becoming a god. Mordecai reminds him he is only a man; and as a man, Haman will come to a most ignoble end.

For anyone else, the irony would be tragic. For a man as evil and filled with hatred as Haman, however, it is nothing short of side-splittingly comic. The king, upon learning that nothing has been done to honor Mordecai (6:3) for saving his life, calls in Haman and orders him to parade through the city the very man whom Haman is conspiring to kill.

Once again, Haman's enormous ego entraps him in a most hilarious situation. "Whom would the king delight to honor more than me?" Haman asks himself. In his self-centered universe, there is no one more honorable in the king's sight than himself. So, he recommends only the highest of honors be given "to the man whom the king delights to honor," thinking, of course, that he will be the one who will be dressed in the king's own "royal robes" and paraded about the city square on the king's own horse. What a shock it must have been to Haman to learn that he is not "the man whom the king delights to honor" but, rather, "the king's most noble official" who is commanded to parade through the city square the man he so despises (6:5-11).

At this point, Haman and his family seem already to know the outcome of the story. Haman will fall at the hand of Mordecai. Mordecai's people will be delivered, all of Haman's plans will come to nothing, and the Jewish people, and God-fearing people throughout the world, will celebrate and honor, on that day and throughout the ages, the courageous woman whom God raised up to be in the right place at the right time to deliver her people from destruction.

Leadership transition in the early church

The martyrdom of James and the imprisonment of Peter (Acts 12:1-17) mark a pivotal moment in the life of the early church. Up until that time, the Twelve had remained in Jerusalem while Philip and other evangelists scattered about the region preaching the gospel. Now, however, even the Twelve will begin to disperse.

Peter, following his miraculous escape from prison, was obviously a wanted man. He would not be able to remain in Jerusalem, thus creating a leadership vacuum. But Peter already had someone in mind to fill the void. After explaining how an angel of the Lord delivered him from prison, he directed those gathered at the home of Mary, the mother of Mark, to "Tell these things to James and to the other brothers."

This would not be the same James who had just been put to death by Herod, often referred to as James the Greater. This is the half brother of Jesus himself, often referred to as James the Less or James the Just. The significance of Peter naming him is that it marks the first time he is referred to as a leader in the early church. From this point on, as Peter and the remainder of the Twelve begin to disperse, James will become the most influential leader in the Jerusalem church. When Paul, Peter, and others return to Jerusalem for the first church council (Acts 15), it is James who presides.

The transition that took place as Peter handed off leadership to James preserved a unique place for the Jerusalem church. While the mission of the church became focused more on the Gentile world, the church in Jerusalem would remain largely a Jewish congregation, even maintaining many of the Jewish distinctions, right down to the time of Jerusalem's demise in A.D. 70. It stood as a reminder to the increasingly evangelized Gentile world that salvation was a gift of God given first through the people of Israel.

Devoted to destruction: An early exercise in hermeneutical gymnastics and creative (dis)obedience

An oldie but goodie which, in light of recent pronouncements, is worthy of re-posting.

The fall from favor of Saul, the first king of Israel, is a vivid illustration of the consequences of rebellion and a typical human attempt to rationalize disobedience into obedience. In 1 Samuel 15, Samuel instructs Saul on behalf of the Lord, "Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey" (v. 3).

The instructions are clear. But Saul engages in one of the earliest recorded examples of hermeneutical gymnastics. "But Saul and the people spared Agag [king of Amalek] and the best of the sheep and of the oxen and of the fattened calves and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them. All that was despised and worthless they devoted to destruction" (v. 9).

When confronted by Samuel about his failure to obey the Lord's command, Saul denies that he has been disobedient. He says, "I have obeyed the voice of the LORD. I have gone on the mission on which the LORD sent me. I have brought Agag the king of Amalek, and I have devoted the Amalekites to destruction. But the people took of the spoil, sheep and oxen, the best of the things devoted to destruction, to sacrifice to the LORD your God in Gilgal" (vv. 20-21).

Needless to say, neither Samuel nor the Lord is impressed with Saul's creative interpretation of obedience. Even "the best of the things devoted to destruction" are still "devoted to destruction" and are, therefore, wholly unacceptable as a sacrifice to the Lord. What Saul and "the people" (upon whom he would apparently lay all blame for any deviation from the original plan while exonerating himself) would offer as a sacrifice is an utter abomination. That which is "devoted to destruction" is unholy and cannot be offered as a sacrifice to a holy God.

Whether it's sheep and oxen under the Old Covenant or the living sacrifice of our very selves under the New Covenant, nothing unholy can be brought into the presence of God. That which is "devoted to destruction," that is, the sin which enslaves us in rebellion and idolatry, must be utterly destroyed. To claim certain sinful inclinations are "gifts" to be celebrated within the worshiping community is a most abominable form of blasphemy, borne of a most arrogant presumption that rebellion against God can be rationalized into obedience by offenders who always seem to find clever ways of avoiding personal responsibility for their sinful actions.

Apostasy, resurrection, and a little common sense

In preparing them for his ordeal of suffering and death, Jesus told his disciples they would "all fall away" in fulfillment of the prophecy, "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered" (Mark 14:27). There is an element of common sense here which is often overlooked. In Greek, the words for "apostasy" and "resurrection" are antonyms. There is the sense that one must "fall away" before one can "stand up again." In other words, the familiar teaching in Christian eschatology that there must first be a "falling away" before the consummation of all things, that is, before the resurrection, is rooted in this very basic premise.

Jesus cast the ordeal of his suffering, death, and resurrection against the grand backdrop of God's plan for the redemption of his creation. In the midst of his ordeal, his disciples would "fall away." The intensity of the conflict would be such that they would abandon the faith and look instead toward self-preservation. Peter would embody this "falling away" with his three denials "before the rooster crows twice" (Mark 14:30).

Things would be quite different following the resurrection, however. Jesus assured his disciples that "after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee" (Mark 14:28). Rising from the dead, Jesus would restore the faith of those who had fallen away. The meaning and purpose of the resurrection is intensified by the fact that it would be preceded by the apostasy. Had there been no apostasy, there would have been no need for the resurrection; but because there was an apostasy, the power of the resurrection to restore all things is all the more glorious.

In order to appreciate fully what Jesus accomplished in rising from the dead, it is first necessary to realize how far we human beings have fallen from our original state of righteousness. We are children of Adam and Eve and, therefore, heirs of the great apostasy by which we lost our standing in right relationship with God. Only the cross can atone for our sin. Only the resurrection can restore our standing with God.

The three promises of Acts 1

The book of Acts, Luke's second volume, begins with three promises, two given by Jesus himself and a third given on his behalf by two heavenly messengers. All three deserve a detailed consideration.

The first is "the promise of the Father, which [Jesus] said, 'you have heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now." The disciples were apparently eager to leave Jerusalem, but Jesus tells them they must stay in the city a while longer. They are not yet equipped for the mission ahead. But, in a few short days, they will receive "the promise of the Father," the Holy Spirit poured out upon them, empowering them to proclaim the Gospel with accompanying signs and wonders. Also, in a few short days, people from every nation under heaven will be coming to them. The feast of Pentecost will bring pilgrims from all over the world to Jerusalem. The disciples' first task will be to bear witness to the Risen Christ right there in Jerusalem, planting its seed in the hearts of people from all over the world.

But the mission does not end there. The second promise involves the sending forth of the disciples to be "witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth." The Holy Spirit will not only empower the disciples for work in Jerusalem but, indeed for a mission that will carry them to the uttermost parts of the earth. God's true kingdom will not be limited geographically to Israel (as the disciples at this point still suppose), but will extend "to the end of the earth." As witnesses tot he resurrection, the disciples will be the heralds of this coming kingdom which knows no national boundaries and has no end.

These promises Jesus makes to his disciples just before he is "lifted up and a cloud [takes] him out of their sight." But a third and final promise inspires the disciples with hope.

"And while they were gazing into heaven as he went," Luke writes, "behold, two men stood by them in white robes, and said, 'Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking into heaven? This Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven."

This promise has a very practical significance that is often lost because of a lack of proper context. In what way did the disciples see Jesus "go into heaven?" It will not do simply to say they saw him go in a cloud and, therefore, he will come in a cloud. The ascension is only the final movement of a drama which began when Jesus "set his face to go to Jerusalem" (Luke 9.51b). The events which take place from that time "until the day he was taken up" are described in detail by Luke, a careful historian, because he understands the whole drama of the journey to Jerusalem, the ordeal of Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection to be that of Jesus being "taken up," glorified in the presence of the Father, vindicated through his suffering, and raised to glory on high at the right hand of the Father. It is in this way that the disciples saw "this Jesus" taken up from them into heaven. It is, likewise, in this way that these "men of Galilee" and all who believe because of their witness will see the promise of the Lord's coming fulfilled every time they remember, recount, and re-live "all that Jesus began to do and teach, until the day he was taken up."

The proper posture for a people preparing for the Lord's coming is not that of gazing off into the clouds or standing around "looking into heaven." The disciples were rebuked for doing that very thing. Rather, the proper posture for a people preparing for the coming of the Lord is the posture of perpetual worship, keeping ever before them the living memory of his passion, his death, his resurrection, and his ascension to the right hand of the Father.

Judgment and mercy

Acts 12.20-24 records the account of the ignominious end of the reign of Herod Antipas. Death befalls the king "because he did not give glory to God" (v. 23b). No doubt he gloried, instead, in his own vanity, relishing the accolades of the crowd which declared, "The voice of a god, and not of a man!" (v. 22). It was precisely the kind of praise Herod wanted from "the people of Tyre and Sidon," who had come to him to ask for peace. But it was a coerced form of praise. Herod had staged the event, having "put on his royal robes," taken "his seat upon the throne, and delivered an oration to them" (v. 21).

It was the perfect setting for a king to garner the praise of his fickle subjects. "Look at me!" Herod says. "See my flowing robes. Look at my glorious throne. Hear my voice. Am I not a god to you? Do I not deserve your praise and adoration?"

But, as the saying goes, be careful for what you wish. Herod got the praise of the people, but his failure to praise God cost him his life. As the people glory in his vanity, Herod is struck down by "an angel of the Lord" (v. 23a). God can tolerate no pretenders. To him alone belongs the glory. Human beings were created to glorify God. When they act contrary to creation, they suffer the consequences. For Herod, those consequences were most severe.

God's striking down of Herod was no mere act of petulant jealousy. In failing to give glory to God, Herod was also failing the people under his authority. He was causing them to bow at the feet of a mere man and proclaim him a god. In pouring out his wrath on Herod, God was showing mercy to the people who had been acting out of ignorance.

Dying to "the elemental spirits of the world"

The more we try, the more we fail. The more rules there are, the more opportunity arises to break them. God's covenant with us is not based on rules and regulations, but on his grace poured out to us through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Thus, Paul writes to the church in Colossae, "See to it that no no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ" (Colossians 2.8). In the original Greek, "the elemental spirits [ or "elementary principles"] of the world" is a military term for a strict, orderly code of conduct. Paul is not discounting the need for rules and regulations in establishing boundaries and parameters, but he is saying that such codes of conduct are, in and of themselves, void of any spiritual power. Human beings are incapable of saving themselves by following rules because human beings are incapable of following rules.

The law served its purpose in revealing to human beings that they are fallen creatures who cannot, by their own effort and strength, live a life that is pleasing to God. The only way the requirements of the law could be fulfilled was for God, the Author of the law, to become man and submit to the law's righteous requirements on man's behalf. The way to reconciliation with God, therefore, is through Christ and Christ alone. To die with him "to the elemental spirits of the world" is to surrender our will to his and to let go of any and every claim to righteousness based on our own effort.

Legalism leads to judgmentalism, and Paul warns the Colossians to discount those who claim to be superior in their faith and, through their overindulgences, have become severed from "the Head, from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God" (Colossians 2.19).

All who have died with Christ "to the elemental spirits of the world" are one body and share one faith. Being vitally connected to "the Head," they grow together toward the perfection that God desires for them; to be like Christ in every facet of their lives and to be transformed into his perfect image and likeness. Such growth into Christ requires mutual accountability and nurture. Arrogance and spiritual superiority are obstacles which are to be avoided on the journey to perfect holiness.

A Glory That Never Fades

Excerpted from today's column for Columbia Faith and Culture Examiner:

The modern age of relativism teaches us to value personal opinion above objective truth. As we journey through life, our experiences either confirm or contradict our presuppositions about God and the world around us. The result is a multiplicity of contrasting worldviews, each forming a barrier to reality.

Just as the Jews stood condemned in their zeal for the Old Covenant of the law, so are those who continue to have their minds dulled by refusing to follow Christ. We remain steadfast in ignorance affirming the fallacies of subjective experience. The deceit of our own lives veils our eyes from the revelation of Truth, which is Jesus Christ.

"But," says Paul, "whenever anyone turns to the Lord [that is, Jesus Christ], the veil is taken away." That means that we can now see clearly the awesome glory of God—a glory that does not fade, but lasts forever. The barriers have been removed. We are not condemned but are made righteous because Jesus has perfectly fulfilled the requirements of the law on our behalf. In his presence, where there is his Spirit, there is freedom. But what kind of freedom? Not the false freedom to do as we please according to the desires of the flesh, but the true freedom to please God under the power of his Spirit as "we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

Read the whole article here.

At His Coming and In His Presence

A major theme which runs throughout 1 Thessalonians is “the coming of the Lord.” It is a theme which encapsulates the section covering 2:17-3:13. In speaking of his longing to see the Thessalonians, Paul asks, “For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before the Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? For you are our glory and joy” (2:19-20). Then, at the close of the section, he prays for the Thessalonians, that God “may establish [their] hearts blameless in holiness before our God and Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints” (3:13).

Many contemporary interpretations leave readers with little or no practical application for the Scriptures in question. This shortcoming is due to an over-reliance on a chronos (linear or horizontal) view of time. Biblical time, however, is not so easily charted. Quite often, Paul and other New Testament writers view time in terms of kairos (seasonal or vertical). Chronologically speaking, “the coming of the Lord” is the final consummation, the end, or outcome, of all of history, at which time all of history will be understood. Kairotically speaking, “the coming of the Lord” is always an imminent reality. For Paul, his Thessalonian congregation, and all believers who are in Christ, the final outcome of history is already known because the “end” of history has already taken place in the midst of history through the ultimate kairotic event of the life, suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus Christ. It is upon this “world-ending” event that we base our hope for a blessed future in a creation restored to its original perfection, with the personal, healing, redemptive presence of Jesus himself in our midst.

Yet, for the believer in Christ, that future has already begun. The Greek term usually translated “coming,” is parousia, meaning literally, “presence.” It is one thing to ponder and cast your thoughts afar toward “the coming of the Lord.” It is quite another to realize you are, at this very moment, in the presence of the Lord. Such a realization brings both comfort and concern. We can take comfort in knowing that our Lord has promised never to leave us nor forsake us, that in the power of his Holy Spirit, he is with us at this very moment and whenever two or three are gathered in his name, there he is in our midst. But we ought also to be concerned, lest his coming catch us unaware. Not knowing the day or the hour of his coming, but knowing every day, every hour, every moment we are in his presence, we ought to live our lives accordingly.

Devoted to Destruction

The fall from favor of Saul, the first king of Israel, is a vivid illustration of the consequences of rebellion and a typical human attempt to rationalize disobedience into obedience. In 1 Samuel 15, Samuel instructs Saul on behalf of the Lord, "Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey" (v. 3).

The instructions are clear. But Saul engages in one of the earliest recorded examples of hermeneutical gymnastics. "But Saul and the people spared Agag [king of Amalek] and the best of the sheep and of the oxen and of the fattened calves and the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them. All that was despised and worthless they devoted to destruction" (v. 9).

When confronted by Samuel about his failure to obey the Lord's command, Saul denies that he has been disobedient. He says, "I have obeyed the voice of the LORD. I have gone on the mission on which the LORD sent me. I have brought Agag the king of Amalek, and I have devoted the Amalekites to destruction. But the people took of the spoil, sheep and oxen, the best of the things devoted to destruction, to sacrifice to the LORD your God in Gilgal" (vv. 20-21).

Needless to say, neither Samuel nor the Lord is impressed with Saul's creative interpretation of obedience. Even "the best of the things devoted to destruction" are still "devoted to destruction" and are, therefore, wholly unacceptable as a sacrifice to the Lord. What Saul and "the people" (upon whom he would apparently lay all blame for any deviation from the original plan while exonerating himself) would offer as a sacrifice is an utter abomination. That which is "devoted to destruction" is unholy and cannot be offered as a sacrifice to a holy God.

Whether it's sheep and oxen under the Old Covenant or the living sacrifice of our very selves under the New Covenant, nothing unholy can be brought into the presence of God. That which is "devoted to destruction," that is, the sin which enslaves us in rebellion and idolatry, must be utterly destroyed. To claim certain sinful inclinations are "gifts" to be celebrated within the worshiping community is a most abominable form of blasphemy, borne of a most arrogant presumption that rebellion against God can be rationalized into obedience by offenders who always seem to find clever ways of avoiding personal responsibility for their sinful actions.

Embracing Chaos and Complication: The Fallen Worldview of Theological Revisionists

Theological revisionists have a particular way of broaching the issue of homosexuality. They constantly refer to it as "a very painful and complicated issue." In so doing, they betray their obstinacy.

Human sexuality, placed within the wider context of the doctrine of creation, is a relatively simple matter. God created human beings, male and female, in his image and likeness (Genesis 1:27). In marriage, as ordained by God, that image and likeness is given full expression as two human beings, male and female, become one flesh (Genesis 2:24). For Adam and Eve, prior to the Fall, their relationship with God and with one another was one of idyllic, blissful perfection. They "were both naked and were not ashamed" (Genesis 2:25).

"Pain" and "complication" came with the Fall. Yielding to the Serpent's deception (which entailed perverting one simple commandment of God into a complicated set of rules and regulations), Adam and Eve rebelled against God and threw all of creation out of harmony with God's design. Sin so darkened the minds and hardened the hearts of many that even the simplest elements of God's will became not only difficult but impossible for them to comprehend. "Claiming to be wise," Paul says, "they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images resembling mortal man and birds and reptiles" (Romans 1:22-23).

At the root of all human sinfulness is idolatry, "exchang[ing] the truth about God for a lie and worship[ing] and serv[ing] the creature rather than the Creator" (Romans 1:25). Absent the truth about God, human beings are also absent the truth about themselves. The result is utter confusion, ultimately manifest in the abandonment of the most basic of all human relationships.

"For this reason," Paul continues, "God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error" (Romans 1:26-27).

When the debate over homosexuality began, it was a basic conflict between two competing views of morality. But morality must have some objective basis, so traditionalists soon began attempting to elevate the discussion to one of the authority of Scripture in matters of faith and practice. In so doing, they exposed the revisionists' true agenda, which was not to legitimize a sinful behavior, but to neutralize and denigrate the Word of God and all the essential doctrines emanating from it.

Revisionists, in a manner that was skillful only in their own eyes, first twisted the meanings of particular Scripture passages, then claimed they had been "mistranslated," and finally abandoned them altogether as "antiquated." It serves no purpose simply to quote Scripture to revisionists. To them, it has no authority, particularly with regard to their favorite sin.

What is left for traditionalists is the doctrine of creation and the Fall. The fact that God created human beings male and female ought to speak for itself. Yet, revisionists have even found a way to get around this inconvenient reality. Once again, it goes back to their rejection of the authority of Scripture. As they reject the New Testament implications of the Fall (as articulated by Paul and other writers), so they reject the Old Testament foundations for it, as well. Revisionists who reject the notion that God's original design was a good and perfectly ordered creation will likewise reject the notion that the present creation is something less than God intended. Thus, revisionists will inevitably reject any notion of a final restoration of creation and of final judgment.

Revisionists are left to offer nothing but a moribund apologetic for the present state of creation. Homosexuality and other expressions of human brokenness are seen not as impediments to be overcome by the grace of God, but as gifts from God to be celebrated. God is neither the loving Father who created human beings in his own image, nor the righteous Judge to whom all human beings must one day give account. Rather, he is a generic deity who may have had a hand in creating the world but tends not to have much interest in its redemption, unless it involves eliminating the so-called "bigotry" of those who tenaciously hold on to the notion that he loves sinners so much that he sent his Son to die for them on the cross.

Ultimately, revisionists are left to embrace nothing but chaos because they have no sense of direction. They do not know where they came from and do not care to know where they are going.

Yes, homosexuality is "painful and complicated," but only for those who are too obstinate to accept the truth about it and, thus, suffer the devastating effects of sin in their lives. For in rejecting the truth about homosexuality, revisionists reject the truth about God; and in rejecting the truth about God, they reject his offer of forgiveness and new life in his Son Jesus Christ, who came to save, heal, and restore a creation which was serene and in perfect harmony with God's simple yet profound design before sin made everything "very painful and complicated."

The True Freedom of Radical Discipleship

Text: John 8.21-47

"As he was saying these things, many believed in him" (John 8:30). But Jesus wants no part of those who believe in him for the wrong reasons. His words may captivate the crowds, but their captivation will soon turn to offense and outrage. Jesus is not, at this point, gathering the flock so much as he is thinning the herd. Not everyone can accept his words, least of all those who believe they are children of Abraham simply by reason of natural birth. Their opinion of Jesus begins to change very quickly when he says, "If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free" (vv. 31b-32).

Jesus' detractors are a group of Jews who are apparently ignorant of their own sacred history. They respond to Jesus by claiming, "We are offspring of Abraham and have never been enslaved to anyone" (v. 33). What true "offspring of Abraham" could be so forgetful of the Israelites' experience in Egypt, where they were enslaved for 400 years before God raised up Moses to lead them to the Promised Land?

It is no wonder Jesus' words are so offensive to his hearers. They hit too close to home. In their hearts, these "offspring of Abraham" are still in Egypt, still enslaved, yet blissfully unaware that they have been enslaved at all. Their response to Jesus seems rather perfunctory. First, they claim fatherhood from Abraham. Then, they claim fatherhood from God. Jesus, however, minces no words. Their failure to accept his words proves conclusively that they are not children of Abraham, much less children of God. Their father is the devil, and they are behaving exactly as he would. They reject the truth in favor of lies. They cannot bear Jesus' words because his words are the truth. But their father, the devil, cannot speak except to utter lies.

"He was a murderer from the beginning," Jesus says, "and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies" (v. 44b). To have the devil as one's father, then, is not only to believe his lies but to live them, as well. The tragedy for those who reject Jesus is their complete ignorance of the truth about themselves. They are slaves to sin and offspring of the devil. They are living lies. The truth, far from setting them free as it does for those who hear and believe Jesus' words, only sets them off on a tirade which does nothing but prove how utterly lost and enslaved they are.

Jesus speaks "the truth" because he is "the truth" incarnate. To know "the truth" is to know Jesus. To know Jesus is to be truly free. But this is a difficult truth to accept, and not just for people in Jesus' day. It implies that every thought we think and every action we take apart from abiding in Christ is a manifestation not of freedom, but of slavery. When we choose to follow after the world, we are not choosing of our own free will. We are acting under compulsion as slaves of sin and children of the devil. Jesus' words expose the deception under which we have been living; the utter folly of living in bondage while thinking we are free.

Jesus calls us out of that bondage, out of that deception, and into the true freedom of radical discipleship. It is a freedom which we cannot accept without first accepting the ugly truth about ourselves: that we are miserable sinners, undeserving of the least of God's favors, least of all the gift of salvation he offers in his Son Jesus Christ. But that is a truth we cannot accept unless Jesus' word sets us free. To hear his word and walk away is to continue down the path of slavery to sin which can only lead to death. To hear his word and obey is to know the true freedom which only he can bring.

Incarnational Living and Ministry

Incarnational Living: Beginning in the Beginning

If spiritual formation is, to use the words of Robert Mulholland, "a process of being conformed to the image of Christ for the sake of others,” it is no surprise that a significant portion of American Christianity is averse to cultivating incarnational living and implementing incarnational ministry. The contemporary culture is saturated with the mentality of instant gratification and the Church is often guilty of conforming to that culture by sanctifying its many vices, rather than transforming it through showing forth the presence of Christ in the world.

There is a shallowness about our lives if we are not in Christ. This is true, of course, for regular unbelievers. But it is also, and especially, true for "believers" who have become satisfied with a form of religion that stops short of union with Christ. This shallowness is far more dangerous than the shallow folly of "intellectual atheism," because it manifests itself in a form of outward godliness which lacks the inward power of the Spirit. It is a shallowness that contents itself with outward appearances but lacks inward holiness. Christ, having not been inwardly formed, cannot be outwardly manifest. Thus, what is manifested outwardly is "only a shadow of what is to come" (Colossians 2:17a, RSV). Such a faith lacks "the substance [which] belongs to Christ" (Colossians 2:17b, RSV).

This is the shortcoming of American evangelicalism. It is comfortable with having a form of godliness but denying its power. Its approach reflects the rigid legalism for which Christ rebuked the church in Ephesus (Revelation 2:1-7). It lacks the substance necessary to encourage the deeper life in Christ, out of fear of violating some doctrinal norm. But union with Christ is supposed to be the norm, not the exception. Until we are one with Christ, our faith will lack substance. It will only be "a shadow of what is to come." Many who may have started strong in the faith will fall away because they will not be able to hold fast to "the Head," that is, Christ, who is the substance of our faith. Only in Christ does one's faith grow and mature for the ultimate benefit of the whole body (cf. Colossians 2:18-19).

The absence of mystery is a shortcoming of Western worship (particularly within the Reformed tradition), so much so that many Western Christians see worship as nothing but a routine or a form of religious entertainment to give them some vague reason to carry on with life for another week. If worship is truly worship, there must be a strong element of mystery. The Risen Christ is present in the midst of the worshipping community. That is a mystery, but it is nonetheless a profound and ultimate reality. It is the defining experience which draws the community together, shapes it by the Word and Holy Spirit, and empowers the Church, corporately and individually, for incarnational living and incarnational ministry.

Incarnational living involves something much deeper than merely "following Jesus' example." The question, "What would Jesus do?" is a good and basic starting point. But it only scratches the surface of the awesome reality that is incarnational living. Incarnational living joins both individual and community with Christ in the whole of his salvific work: his miraculous birth, his life and ministry, his suffering, his death on the cross, his resurrection, and his glorification. In Christ, believers experience all these things as a pneumapsychosomatic reality. The believer's spirit, soul, and body are one with Christ's spirit, soul, and body. This is no mere abstract concept. It is a part of the ultimate reality which is the deepest longing of every believer.

In order to enter into a mystery as profound as the Incarnation, one must cultivate a contemplative life. This is another obstacle to overcome in an instant gratification culture. But Christian tradition is very clear that the Incarnation is not only at the center of the Church's historic faith, but also ought to be at the center of the believer's life.

The clearest picture of the Incarnation, "the Word made flesh," is offered by John. In the prologue to his Gospel, he vividly describes this awesome mystery.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. (John 1:1-14, ESV)

Incarnational living must begin "in the beginning," Thus, John's prologue provides us with an excellent starting point for that which "begins" our life in Christ, namely, the New Birth. If life "in Christ" is, at its root, incarnational, that is, believers somehow partaking of the divine nature and participating with Christ in the whole of his salvific work, then such a life must encompass everything Christ accomplishes "in the flesh." The New Birth, then, is not something we must experience in order to come to Christ but, like everything else associated with our salvation, it is something we experience in Christ and with Christ. John's reference to "children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God" is, then, a reference to the New Birth which is experienced by "all who received [Christ]" and "believed in his name." While John may not mention Jesus' miraculous birth explicitly, there can be inferred a connection between Jesus' birth from a virgin via the agency of the Holy Spirit and the believer's New Birth via the agency of the same Holy Spirit. The inference is even stronger in Jesus' conversation with Nicodemus.

Now there was a man of the Pharisees named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him." Jesus answered him, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." Nicodemus said to him, "How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother's womb and be born?" Jesus answered, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I said to you, 'You must be born again.' The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." (John 3:1-8, ESV)

"Born again" in the original Greek means literally, "born from above." After Nicodemus asks, "How can a man be born when he is old? Surely he cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb to be born," Jesus elaborates on his original statement. "I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit." To be "born again" or "born from above" means to be "born" of the Spirit. Only then can one enter the kingdom of God. As Jesus later says to the woman at the well, "Yet a time is coming and has now come when all true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in spirit and in truth" (John 4:23-24, NIV).

This is what life "in Christ" in the kingdom of God, that is, incarnational living, is all about: God's "true worshipers" worshipping him "in spirit and in truth." But if our worship is to be in spirit and truth, we must heed the truth told to us by Jesus: we must be born of the Spirit. Jesus was literally "born from above," as has already been pointed out. He was born of a virgin via the agency of the Holy Spirit. What Jesus really means when he says, "no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again," is, "To enter my kingdom you must share in my birth." But this is a physical impossibility, as Nicodemus pointed out. How are we to experience "birth from above" the way Jesus did? The answer is very simple, yet deeply profound.

"I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me. (John 17:20-23, ESV)

Jesus' prayer for complete unity is fulfilled not in some interdenominational merger, but through believers becoming one with him. Through sharing in his Incarnation, we are incorporated into the deeper mystery of the Trinity whereby we begin to share in the very nature of the Divine.

Many believers, particularly in contemporary American evangelicalism, place such an emphasis on the New Birth that they miss out on the deeper experience of life in Christ. But life in Christ not only involves birth. Death to sin is also a crucial element in incarnational living. For there can be no resurrection to eternal life before that which is opposed to life is put to death. But what within a person is opposed to life? The sobering reality is the whole person is opposed to life, because sin has corrupted the whole person. Therefore, the whole person must be put to death. Paul testifies to this when he writes, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:19b-20, ESV).

The experience of being "crucified with Christ" must be understood from a whole person perspective. Death to sin is not "spiritual only." Paul does not say, "My spirit has been crucified with Christ's Spirit." That would negate the somatic dimension of death to sin and, by implication, the physical necessity of Christ's crucifixion. Paul says, "I have been crucified with Christ." Paul understands his death "with Christ" to be a whole person experience. To be "crucified with Christ" is to participate in person with the actual death of the second Person of the Trinity, Jesus Christ the Son of God. Thus, when Christ was crucified, so was Paul and so were we. When Christ died, so did Paul and so did we. Yet, how is it that Paul still appears to be alive? The Apostle makes it clear who it is that gives life to his mortal body: "[The] life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God [literally, "in faith which is of the Son of God"], who loved me and gave himself for me."

There is no escaping the personal nature of Paul's experience. His whole person was transformed from being opposed to life to being life itself, through "faith which is of the Son of God." That which was opposed to life has been caught up, swallowed up, and raised up by him who is life itself. Paul's life "in the flesh" is a testimony to the power of the Risen Christ. Paul sees his life as a continuation of the life of Christ, a life which never ends. Paul's whole person is now wholly in Christ, that is, the Risen and Glorified Son of God, who submitted himself--spirit, soul, and body--to death on the cross for the redemption of our whole person--spirit, soul, and body.

Here the connection between incarnation and sanctification becomes clear. Paul and other New Testament writers often use such terms as "spirit," "soul," and "body" in vaguely interchangeable contexts with regard to redemption and salvation. However, only in speaking of sanctification does Paul use all three terms together.

Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it. (1 Thessalonians 5:23-24, ESV)

Here, Paul uses "spirit, soul and body" as an unmistakable unity of personhood which is saved, redeemed, sanctified, and, at last, delivered whole into the presence of God through Jesus Christ, whose suffering, death, and resurrection make it possible for all persons to have eternal life.

The end of incarnational living, that is, the hope of all who live in Christ, is the resurrection to eternal life. Scripture does not give us much latitude for speculation concerning this deeply profound mystery. Many have tried, however, and have inevitably fallen into error by attempting to be overly specific. Only through the lens of incarnational living is the necessary continuity between the resurrection of Christ and the resurrection of the dead to eternal life become clear.

And as they were speaking to the people, the priests and the captain of the temple and the Sadducees came upon them, greatly annoyed because they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead. (Acts 4:1-2, ESV)

In the above cited passage, Luke makes a very important point. "The resurrection of the dead" is, according to the Apostolic proclamation, something which happens "in Jesus." The resurrection of Christ cannot be taken in isolation from the resurrection of the dead. Both are two parts of the same whole. In rising from the dead, Christ has abolished death's stranglehold on humanity. The resurrection of Christ is the kairos moment through which all of history can be understood. Christ is Alpha and Omega, First and Last, Beginning and End; who is and who was and who is to come. Hence, all who were dead, are dead, and will be dead in Christ were raised, are raised, and will be raised.

The hope of all believers--past, present, and future--is that in Christ and with Christ, we have been, are being, and will be raised to eternal life. In Christ, our whole person--spirit, soul, and body--is saved, redeemed, sanctified, and glorified; and with Christ we shall dwell forever in the presence of God.

Incarnational Ministry: From Contemplating the Mystery to Manifesting the Presence

Incarnational living must necessarily yield incarnational ministry. Contemplation of the mystery of life in Christ must become outwardly manifest as the Church shows forth the presence of Christ in the midst of the world as the visible agent of the kingdom of God. Each individual believer, having been uniquely gifted by God, must share in this incarnational task.

In the Gospel accounts of Jesus' baptism, there emerges a paradox which can only be understood within the context of the kingdom of God. John the Baptist, the fiery prophet who is nevertheless humble enough to recognize his own insignificance, boldly takes on the religious establishment, calling them a "brood of vipers." But then he proclaims that someone greater than he is coming, "whose sandals I am not worthy to carry; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into the granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire" (Matthew 3:11-12, RSV).

Yet, right in the middle of John's stern warning about the One who is coming in judgment, Jesus himself steps through the crowd, into the waters of the Jordan River and says to John, "Baptize me!"

John has been preparing the way for Jesus to come in judgment against sinners, yet Jesus identifies with those very sinners. His is a judgment of separation. The wheat will be separated from the chaff. But the standard of judgment will not be how "religious" we are (as the example of the Pharisees makes clear) but, rather, how closely we identify with the Christ who identifies with us.

John's proclamation of fiery judgment is tempered by Jesus' humble act of identification. God's judgment is real and very much imminent. But if we are to proclaim it with integrity, we must identify with the sinners, acknowledging that we ourselves are chief among them. Those we invite into the kingdom may, in fact, enter ahead of us.

This is the actual (as opposed to the merely theoretical) tension in which we live as citizens of the kingdom of God. It is the tension between incarnation and identification. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we are to live as the ongoing incarnation of Christ in the world and for the world. But part and parcel to incarnational ministry is identification with those whom "respectable society" would call "sinners." With deepest humility, we must recognize that there is no one who stands in greater need of redemption than ourselves. But we do not look to ourselves for that redemption. We look to Christ and, when we look to Christ, we look to One who calls us to live by his example. He was without sin, yet became sin on our behalf. Thus, the tension between incarnation and identification actually defines the life and ministry of Christian disciples. As we incarnate the presence of Christ in the world and for the world, we proclaim the message of the kingdom of God. That proclamation includes the often stinging call to repentance. Yet, identification with sinners is also par and parcel to living out the incarnation. Even as we call sinners to repentance and invite them into the kingdom, we must identify with them in their brokenness. That is what Jesus did, even enduring the same temptations all "sinners" face, yet being without sin (cf. Hebrews 4:15).

Calling sinners to repentance, however, is not without its pitfalls. Suffering is an inevitable consequence of incarnational ministry. Just as we identify with sinners in their brokenness, so we also identify with Christ in his suffering and death. Absent such identification, we lose all sense of imminence regarding the kingdom of God and the hope of resurrection and final vindication. This is an area of incarnational ministry in which the Church in America is sadly lacking. The culture of instant gratification to which American Christianity has been conformed teaches that pain and suffering are to be avoided at all costs. This cultural accommodation is given theological cover through the novelty of dispensational eschatology, which corrupts the hope of Christ's return into an escapist fantasy, teaching that Christians will be "snatched away" to heaven before a period of untold suffering begins on earth. The prevalence of this error has been a devastating blow to genuine incarnational ministry within the American church. It may indeed be the case that a season of suffering is precisely what is needed to shake the church out of its complacency.

It is no coincidence that Jesus himself is most emphatic about the imminent nature of his return when addressing the comfortable, complacent, and compromised church of Laodicea (Revelation 3:14-20). It is an imminence not only of time, but also of space: "I stand at the door and knock!" These words ought to be a wake-up call to the church today which, like Laodicea, has become comfortable with the world.

Incarnational ministry keeps this sense of imminence at the forefront, for it is a reminder that ours is an urgent task. Neither we nor the persons to whom we minister are guaranteed the next moment. God's judgment--swift, sure, and decisive--will come when we least expect it. The most humbling truth about such judgment is that it begins "with the family of God" (1 Peter 4:17). When Jesus speaks of judgment in Matthew 24 (also Mark 13, Luke 21), his primary target is the Temple and the elite religious culture which had grown up around it. That culture was utterly destroyed some forty years after Jesus' prophetic declaration, "Do you see all these things? I tell you the truth, not one stone here will be left on another; every one will be thrown down" (Matthew 24:2, NIV). When judgment comes, it is the religious culture, not the secular culture, which bears the brunt of God's wrath. We cannot allow ourselves to fall into the trap of comfortable complacency offered by the myriad of speculative eschatological schemes which either confine the significance of Jesus' words to a past generation (preterism, particularly hyper-preterism) or delay their fulfillment until a future generation (futurism, particularly the aforementioned dispensationalism). God's judgment is not only an imminent possibility, but also an imminent and sobering reality of which we must constantly be aware as we proclaim the kingdom of God through incarnating the presence of Christ in and for the world. If we are not sincere, God will see through our masquerade. It is not enough that we be merely religious. Incarnational ministry requires that we be Christ for the world and, in so being, we actively participate in the ongoing fulfillment of the eschatological kingdom toward which all of history is moving.

Hope Amidst the Hype

When Christians speak of the “eschatological hope,” they mean precisely what the term implies. The “last word” is a word of hope. It speaks of a world to come which is infinitely more glorious than the world that now is. Sickness and sorrow, pain and death will be no more. The incarnate Word himself, Jesus Christ, will reign in all his glory as King of kings and Lord of lords, his royal presence (parousia) being the centerpiece of God’s new creation.

But you might have a hard time discerning such a hope amidst the hype generated by the self-appointed "prophecy experts" who are always warning of the impending destruction of the world. Such sensationalism has long been one of the more embarrassing excesses of Christian eschatology. Two world wars, the rise of the Soviet Union, and the ongoing Arab/Israeli conflict have all been seen as indications of the imminent end of history. It is not surprising, then, that the present war against radical Islamic terrorism also qualifies as a candidate for history's final conflict. Neither is it surprising that the usual suspects, such as our old friend Hal Lindsey, have begun figuring the recent string of natural disasters into the latest version of their “last days” scenario.

It is easy to paint a very grim picture by taking particular apocalyptic texts from Scripture out of their literary and historical context and transposing them across two millennia to be arbitrarily applied to current world events. Jesus did indeed speak of “wars and rumors of wars,” of nation rising against nation “and kingdom against kingdom,” of “famines and earthquakes in various places” (cf. Matthew 24:6-7). But he also said most emphatically, “Truly I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place (Matthew 24:34). He was speaking specifically about events which were to take place within roughly forty years following his death and resurrection, culminating with the destruction of the Temple and the fall of Jerusalem at the hands of the Romans. Moreover, he was drawing a parallel between the ordeal his first disciples would have to endure during that period with his own ordeal of suffering, death, and resurrection which he was about to endure.

Any attempt to read into current events a parallel with the ordeal of the first century church cannot overlook the singular event which gave Jesus’ first followers the hope and the courage to endure in the face of relentless persecution. That singular event was, and is, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. For in the crucified and risen Christ is embodied the “end” toward which all of history is moving. God’s “last word” is not destruction and death, but redemption and life. As Christ endured suffering before entering into glory, so must all who would share with him in that glory. Paul even goes so far as to say that “the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now” (Romans 8:22).

Earthquakes and famines, wars and rumors of wars, suffering and painful sorrow are not the end of the world. Jesus, in fact, said such things “are but the beginning of the birth pains” (Matthew 24:8). They are reminders that we live in the midst of a creation out of sync with God’s purpose, longing to “be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:21). Such events do remind us that “the end is near.” But that ought not to inspire fear. Rather, it ought to inspire hope in the midst of all the suffering brought on by such events. For “the end” is Christ himself, and in Christ is embodied not the death of humanity, but humanity raised to the fullness of life; not the destruction of creation, but creation redeemed out of its bondage to reflect once again that glory which was “in the beginning.”

Structure, Spirit, and Truth

“The structure is the message,” J.I. Packer said in an address to the Evangelical Ministry Assembly in 1991. Nowhere is this more true of Scripture than in the fourth Gospel. The Beloved Disciple weaves his story together through simple yet profound structural relationships.

When Nicodemus, who comes to Jesus at night, fails to understand Jesus’ statement, “You must be born again,” Jesus responds, “Are you the teacher of Israel and yet you do not understand these things?” (John 3:10b). This reaction is almost incredulous on the part of Jesus. How could the man who is supposed to be Israel’s teacher—an expert in the law and the prophets—be so utterly in the dark, that is, blind, to what those sacred writings say? If Nicodemus does not understand so simple a concept as being born again, how can he possibly teach the people the deeper mysteries of God’s redemptive plan?

Contrast Jesus’ reaction to Nicodemus with the Pharisees’ reaction to the testimony of the man born blind: “You were born in utter sin, and would you teach us?” (John 9:34). The Word of God is a sharp, two-edged sword, and nowhere is it sharper than when this episode is considered within the wider context that stretches back to the encounter between Jesus and Nicodemus. But there is yet more to that wider context. The main thrust of the former blind man’s “teaching” to the Pharisees is, “We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does his will, God listens to him.” Here, the story connects back to another conversation, that between Jesus and the woman at the well (John 4:1-42). In that conversation, Jesus says, “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father is seeking such people to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth” (John 4:23-24).

True and false worship emerge here in as sharp a contrast as true and false teaching. The one naturally flows from the other. False and insincere worship—having the form of godliness but denying its power—leads to false and misleading teaching. The Pharisees demand of the man born blind, “Give glory to God,” is utterly ludicrous and hypocritical. They believe the only way to glorify (worship) God in this case is to deny that Jesus has the power of God to heal. The idea that God could become incarnate in Jesus and do a miraculous healing as a sign of the in-breaking of his kingdom did not fit in with the structures they had erected around their “worship” and, thus, was utterly foreign to their interpretation of the Scriptures.

But the man born blind does give glory to God by affirming Jesus’ power to heal. The Pharisees hear this, however, not as a testimony to the transforming power of God but as evidence of the man’s in-born sinfulness. They expel him from the synagogue, that is, from the place of worship. Jesus then seeks him out and asks him, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?”

The man responds, “And who is he sir, that I may believe in him?”

Jesus tells him, “You have seen him, and it is he who is speaking to you.”

Then, John ties together all the loose ends. “He said, ‘Lord I believe,’ and he worshiped him.”

As Nicodemus was unqualified to be Israel’s teacher because he lacked the basic knowledge of one who was truly “born again,” so the man born blind was eminently qualified to teach the Pharisees (Nicodemus himself being “a man of the Pharisees”) because he had been touched by the transforming power of God. As Jesus told the woman at the well that worship was not a matter of physical location but of spiritual orientation, so the man born blind, having been expelled from the place of worship, is able to worship without inhibition when he confesses his faith in Jesus.

Thus, Jesus’ declaration makes complete and perfect sense: “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.”

Rationalizing Faithlessness

There is an underlying reason why some Christians never mature past the spiritual infancy stage. From the very beginning of their Christian walk, they have no idea what it truly means to be “born again.” They have an understanding of conversion more akin to Nicodemus than to Jesus. The new birth is viewed more in naturalistic terms such as a change of attitude or opinion, rather than a radical transformation of the whole person, from one enslaved to the perspective of the earth, the flesh, the temporary to one set free to see the perspective of heaven, the Spirit, the eternal.

The full meaning of the term “born again,” in the context of Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus (John 3), is “born from above.” The new birth is not a natural experience for a fallen human being. Anyone who claims to be “born again” yet continues to be enslaved by an earthbound, naturalistic perspective is no such thing.

Nicodemus was not the only one who didn’t “get it” with regard to the new birth. Throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus encounters people who seem hopelessly bound by the natural limitations wrought by their sinfulness. His argument with the Jews in chapter 8 is a case in point. In a most literal sense, Jesus is speaking over their heads. These are not “bad people,” as we tend to think of bad people. They come across as quite confident and self-assured because they are “children of Abraham.” Yet they want to kill Jesus because they think he is “a Samaritan” (hardly a compliment) and possessed by a demon. Jesus calls them “liars” and children of the devil. How can there be such a stark contrast?

If these Jews truly understood their own traditions, they would have no trouble understanding Jesus, who is only reiterating what they should already know. But they do not understand Jesus because they do not understand their traditions. For generations, they have read and been taught the Scriptures from an earthly, naturalistic perspective. If even their teachers, like Nicodemus, were in the dark, what is to be expected from those who have been taught by them? Bad teachers produce bad students. Soon enough, the corruption takes hold in the whole community and no one is without excuse.

Perhaps it is the legacy of years of bad teaching about the new birth that there are so many people in our churches today who claim to be “born again,” but exhibit little or no evidence of radical transformation. The most gullible of such persons are easy targets for the peddlers of naturalistic philosophies masquerading as theology, be they pan-sexual revisionists on the one hand or escapist dispensationalists on the other. Most, however, fall somewhere in between: orthodox in theology, but averse to anything beyond the simplest baby steps toward a deeper faith. These persons value security and certainty of outcome over bold ventures into uncharted waters. They scoff at those who do step out in faith, constantly warning them of the dangers ahead and seeming to relish the thought of them stepping on a few landmines.

Such a thought process is thoroughly earthbound and utterly devoid of spiritual maturity. Faithfulness often, if not always, demands risk taking; stepping out into the unknown with no guarantee of success. But success is not the reward one seeks. Obedience brings with it a sense of joy and fulfillment that “success” can never match. Scoffers, enslaved as they are to their earthbound, success-oriented perspective, are really doing nothing but rationalizing their own disobedience and lack of faith.

The Thessalonian Guide to Church Planting

The congregation at Thessalonica was planted during Paul’s second missionary journey, after the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15) and his separation from Barnabas in a dispute over John Mark. At the time of the writing of his first letter to the Thessalonians, Paul is accompanied by Silvanus (Silas) and Timothy (1:1). It is believed by many to be the oldest of the New Testament documents, possibly written as early as 20-25 years after the death and resurrection of Christ.

The planting of the Thessalonian congregation is recorded in Acts 17:1-9. It is a mixed congregation of Jews and Greeks, including some prominent women and a man named Jason, who acted as host to Paul and Silas during their stay in the city. As Paul recounts in his letter, affliction and conflict accompanied the proclamation and reception of the Gospel in Thessalonica (cf. 1:6, 2:2). A group of “jealous” Jews “formed a mob, set the city in an uproar, and attacked the house of Jason” (Acts 17:5). It is in Thessalonica that Paul and his companions are referred to as “These men who have turned the world upside down” (Acts 17:6). The Greek term Luke employs for “turned the world upside down” is a form of “anastasis,” literally “resurrection.” Earlier on, when the original disciples were still in Jerusalem prior to the stoning of Stephen, Luke records that the leaders of the temple establishment were “greatly annoyed” with Peter and John “because they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection from the dead” (Acts 4:2). By the time Paul and his company reach Thessalonica, the message that had at first “greatly annoyed” the Jerusalem establishment is now said to “have turned the world upside down,” and, much to the annoyance of the Jews in Thessalonica, the men who have been proclaiming it throughout the region “have come here also.”

The message of Jesus and the resurrection is bound to cause an uproar and those who proclaim it can expect fierce opposition. This was certainly the case with Paul and company in Thessalonica. Despite affliction, however, the Thessalonians received the message “with the joy of the Holy Spirit” and “became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia” (1:6-7). In spite of the fierce opposition, which included being dragged before the city authorities and charged with sedition (Acts 17:6-7), the believers in Thessalonica had persevered and become a model congregation, not only hearing the word, but putting it into practice.

The antiphonal structure of 1 Thessalonians 1:1-2:16 is an illustration of how a congregation is formed, nurtured, and grown. Paul offers the Gospel (1:1-5, 2:1-12); the Thessalonians receive it (1:6-10, 2:13-16). But not only do the Thessalonians receive the Gospel message, their testimony reverberates “in Macedonia and Achaia” and their “faith in God has gone forth everywhere,” so much so that Paul and his companions “need not say anything” (1:8). The Thessalonian congregation is a community invited into the faith by the proclamation of the Word, established in the faith by the reception of the Word, and sustained in the faith by becoming an incarnation of the Word. As it became an example to believers then, so it remains an example to believers now. The faith and perseverance of the believers in Thessalonica is precisely the kind of faith and perseverance required of us today if we hope to once again “turn the world upside down” with the Gospel of our crucified and risen Lord, Jesus Christ.

Outgrowing Spiritual Adolescence

When is one’s salvation complete? That is, when is one’s whole person—spirit, soul and body—wholly transformed into the image and likeness of God, so as to be fit for eternity in his presence? For most of us, it is not likely that we will see our salvation completed in this life. But that is not, ultimately, the “big question.” God will accomplish his plan for each one of us, for his Church, and for the whole creation in his time, according to his eternal will and purpose. We live in joyful expectation of being made complete in this life even if, in the end, that expectation is not fully realized until the life to come. Likewise, we look daily, and with great anticipation, for the coming of Christ, the parousia, when all creation will be restored and God’s kingdom fully consummated. But the real question is not, “When will all things be completed?” but, rather, “How will all things be completed?”

To this question, God has already provided his definitive answer in "The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show to his servants the things that must soon take place" (Revelation 1:1a).

The Greek word "apocalypse," translated in the above verse as "revelation," means, literally, "unveiling." Therein lies the key difference between prophecy in the Old Testament and prophecy in the New Testament. In the Old Testament, prophecy was hidden, that is, "veiled." In the New Testament, prophecy is revealed, that is, "unveiled" in and through Jesus Christ.

Paul says, "Since we have such a hope, we are very bold, not like Moses, who would put a veil over his face so that the Israelites might not gaze at the outcome of what was being brought to an end. But their minds were hardened. For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted because only through Christ is it taken away. Yes, to this day whenever Moses is read a veil lies over their hearts. But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit” (2 Corinthians 2:12-18).

In the Old Testament, the outcome of history was "sealed" until the time of its fulfillment (cf. Daniel 12:9). In the New Testament, specifically in Revelation, the "seals" are opened (Revelation 6:1-8:5) and John is specifically instructed, "Do not seal up the words of the prophecy of this book, for the time is near" (Revelation 22:10). In other words, the outcome of all of history, under the New Covenant, is an open book because, no matter when or where it is fulfilled, it is fulfilled in Jesus Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit to the glory of God the Father.

Salvation, then, is not complete until we are reformed in the perfect image and likeness of Christ, who is "the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation” (Colossians 1:15). Jesus says that in order to see his kingdom, we must be “born again” (John 3:3). To be "born again" is to be "born" after the manner of Christ himself, "not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but born of God" (John 1:13).

Unfortunately, many in the Church today believe that being "born again" is the be all and end all of Christian experience; that once we are "born again," our salvation is complete. But this is not consistent with biblical teaching. Peter writes, "Having purified your souls by your obedience to the truth for a sincere brotherly love, love one another earnestly from a pure heart, since you have been born again, not of perishable seed but of imperishable, through the living and abiding word of God" (1 Peter 1:22-23).

In other words, you have been born again. Now, grow up!

There are many who claim to be "born again," but precious few who truly want to "grow up.” Yet, Scripture is quite clear that this is precisely what is expected of us.

And he [Christ] gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love. (Ephesians 4:11-16, ESV)

The picture Paul paints here is one of growing out of what might be called “spiritual childhood” or “spiritual adolescence” and into “mature manhood,” reflecting the image and likeness of Christ “in every way.” This is not, contrary to popular concepts, an instantaneous, one-time experience. Just as “growing up” physically is a life-long process, so, too, is “growing up” spiritually.

For each one of us, the experience of being “born again” varies. However, once we have made the initial decision to become a Christian, most of us probably go through what might be called the “fundamentalist stage” of spiritual development. At this early stage in our growth into Christ, we have to have the “fundamentals” or the “basics” spoon-fed to us. During this period, we tend to think of God and his plan of salvation in terms of abstract concepts. We crave the “mother’s milk” of the faith, the “five fundamentals” which lay its foundation: the inspiration of Scripture, the Virgin Birth, the vicarious atonement, the resurrection, and the second coming.

Yet, the more we become aware of the truth of God’s Word, the more we begin to realize just how far we have fallen from his favor. Ultimately, such a conceptual understanding of the faith only serves the same purpose as the Old Covenant law. It makes us acutely aware that we are sinners in need of a Redeemer who far transcends our attempts to pigeonhole him in a few “basic” tenets.

It is in coming to this point in our walk with Christ that we must make a very crucial decision either to go further or to fall back. If we choose to fall back, the path of rebellion, we will soon find ourselves either rejecting everything we have learned thus far or remaining trapped indefinitely in a state of spiritual adolescence, knowing the “fundamentals,” but being afraid to venture beyond our comfort zone.

If we choose to go further, however, we will, by yielding to the Spirit, be led into an understanding of the faith which is higher, deeper, and of greater substance than we could have ever imagined when we thought of it only in conceptual terms. Faith becomes more than a concept; it becomes a reality. Christianity becomes more than a religion; it becomes a Person, and that Person is the One who has been, all along the way, beckoning us, “Follow me.”

For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. He committed no sin, neither was deceit found in his mouth. When he was reviled, he did not revile in return; when he suffered, he did not threaten, but continued entrusting himself to him who judges justly. He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. For you were straying like sheep, but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls. (1 Peter 2:21-25, ESV)

These words from Peter ought to bring great comfort to those who are truly “growing up” into Christ. For, as the Apostle makes clear, following Christ means following the path of suffering, enduring the scorn of the world. It is not an easy path, but it is the only path to true perfection.

If we choose instead to reject the “fundamentals” or remain static in our understanding of them, we will inevitably fall into any number of theological and doctrinal aberrations, all of which will make our faith less real and Christ more distant, even seemingly absent.

What is sadly lacking among most high profile Christian leaders today is precisely the kind of spiritual maturity which Peter, Paul and other New Testament writers said was an absolute prerequisite for exercising spiritual leadership. “Fundamentalists” chose at some point in their lives to remain in their comfortable “system” and not to venture further into life in Christ. “Liberals,” on the other hand, chose at some point to reject all they had learned about the faith. As a result of their respective decisions, neither “fundamentalists” nor “liberals” have the strength “to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that [they] may be filled with all the fullness of God” (Ephesians 3:18-19).

The embarrassing public squabbles which often erupt whenever representatives from these two groups appear on television is to be expected when two overgrown adolescents are put in the same room. They start fighting over who gets to play with the toys. They scream at each other, hurl insults, and call each other names until the “parents” come in and take the toys away from both of them. The writer of Hebrews indeed has “much to say” about this sorry state of affairs among Christian “leaders.”

About this we have much to say, and it is hard to explain, since you have become dull of hearing. For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.

Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again a foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God, and of instruction about washings, the laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment. And this we will do if God permits. For it is impossible to restore again to repentance those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come, if they then fall away, since they are crucifying once again the Son of God to their own harm and holding him up to contempt. For land that has drunk the rain that often falls on it, and produces a crop useful to those for whose sake it is cultivated, receives a blessing from God. But if it bears thorns and thistles, it is worthless and near to being cursed, and its end is to be burned. (Hebrews 5:11-6:8, ESV)

Note what is included in “the elementary doctrine of Christ.” Such “fundamentals” as “the resurrection of the dead” and “eternal judgment,” not to mention some other rather important ideas, such as “repentance” and “faith toward God.” What the writer is saying is that “grown up” believers do not need to keep being reminded of how important such doctrines are. They are the building blocks of the faith, but once the foundation is laid, it must be built upon. This does not mean that we “outgrow” the basics but, rather, that we grow in our understanding of them and, thus, begin to comprehend the deeper reality of life in Christ.

Peter echoes this same truth.

So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander. Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up to salvation—if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. (1 Peter 2:1-5, ESV)

Paul also adds his agreement.

So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Ephesians 2:19-22, ESV)

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving. (Colossians 2:6-7, ESV)

What, then, is the end result of a decision to “go deeper” and “grow up” into Christ? Paul's expression of Christian maturity can only be made by someone who has long since passed the early stages of being "born again.”

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:19b-20)

If being "born again" is the entry point into life in Christ, then dying with Christ is the passageway into a deeper experience of union with him. For only if we share in Christ's suffering and death will we also share with him in his resurrection. As Paul says elsewhere:

For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith--that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. (Philippians 3:8b-11)

Paul sees "the resurrection from the dead" as the end, that is, the outcome, of his relationship with Christ--a relationship in which Paul shares in every aspect of Christ's salvific work, from being born of the Spirit to suffering the scorn of the world, to being nailed to the cross and, finally, being raised from the dead. Even Paul could not, or would not, claim to have been made whole in this experience at the time he wrote to the Philippians.

Not that I have already obtained this nor am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained. (Philippians 3:12-16)

But how is this relationship brought to completion? The Bible tells the story of God's relationship with humankind through the establishment of two covenants: the covenant of the law and the covenant of grace. The covenant of grace is the superior covenant and is, in fact, the eternal covenant God established from the foundation of the world. It alone leads to salvation. Yet, we call it the "New Covenant" because, within human history, it is revealed after the covenant of the law, that is, the "Old Covenant." Both covenants, however, do serve a purpose in God's plan of redemption. The Old Covenant convicts us, that is it makes us aware, of our sin and our fallenness. The New Covenant brings salvation by grace through faith to all who believe. The words of an old Gospel hymn sum this up very well.

By God's Word at last my sin I learned
Then I trembled at the law I'd spurned
Till my guilty soul, imploring, turned to Calvary!
Mercy there was great and grace was free!
Pardon there was multiplied to me!
There my burdened soul found liberty at Calvary!

So, what we have is, as Paul says on several occasions, a mystery. The "New Covenant" is actually older than the "Old Covenant." If our relationship with God is on the basis of grace through faith, we are thus to become, under the New Covenant, the people we were before the law (Old Covenant) was necessary to reveal to us the people we are. Under the New Covenant, we are restored to the state of perfection which was lost in the fall. We are back where we were in the beginning, that is, with God for all eternity. Yet, it can only be said of Christ that "He was in the beginning with God" (John 1:2). So, if human beings are to be restored to that relationship whereby they can be "in the beginning with God," they must be "in Christ." That is what life under the New Covenant of grace is all about!

"And if I go and prepare a place for you," Jesus says, "I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also" (John 14:3).

Where is Jesus? He is "in the beginning with God." Thus, his promise to "come again," in the context of John’s Gospel, is a promise to restore us to the perfect relationship with God which was “in the beginning.” The “end” of our faith is complete salvation, which John sees as perfect union with God in Christ through the work of the Holy Spirit.

So, as members of God's New Covenant community, the Church, we look not to world events for the "fulfillment" of some ancient prophecy, but to Jesus Christ, God's ultimate revelation ("unveiling") of himself, the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End; and the ongoing fulfillment of the eschatological kingdom which is the consummation of all of history. In him, we find our rest.

The Lesson of the Fig Tree

Of the myriad of human traditions which have infected the Church over the centuries, there is perhaps none more detrimental to the proclamation of the gospel of the kingdom than the misinterpretation of this key passage from our Lord’s Olivet Discourse.

From the fig tree learn this lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts out its leaves, you know that summer is near. So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates. (Matthew 24:32-33)

In employing the imagery of “the fig tree,” Jesus is driving home his point to his disciples in language they would have been quite familiar with. Unfortunately, two thousand years of interpretation by exegetes wholly divorced from the Jewish culture of Jesus’ day have obscured his very simple, yet profound and uplifting, message.

Dispensationalists, who believe God has a separate plan of salvation for Israel and the Church, see “the fig tree” as a reference to the nation of Israel. Its blossoming, when “its branch becomes tender and puts out its leaves,” is seen as the rebirth of Israel which, in turn, is interpreted as a “sign” of the approaching “rapture” of the Church, followed by a seven-year period of “great tribulation” and, finally, the return of Christ in glory to set up his eternal kingdom.

While this view enjoys great popularity among English-speaking evangelical Protestants, the basic premise which informs the dispensational interpretation of this passage, separate plans of salvation for Israel and the Church, is flatly contradictory to Scripture and Apostolic Tradition. Throughout his epistles, Paul repeatedly emphasizes that, in Christ and through Christ, the distinction between Jews and Gentiles has been abolished.

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called "the uncircumcision" by what is called the circumcision, which is made in the flesh by hands—remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility. And he came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. (Ephesians 2:11-22, ESV)

Paul could not be more clear. There is but one plan of salvation for Jews and Gentiles alike. In Christ, all who believe are one body and the temple of stone and mortar has been superseded by this one body whose many members are “being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.” Yet, dispensationalists routinely take other passages from Paul out of context and offer them as proof of their assertion that Jesus’ “fig tree” parable is a reference to the restoration of the nation of Israel. In particular, they point to Romans 11:25-26a, “Lest you be wise in your own conceits, I want you to understand this mystery, brothers: a partial hardening has come upon Israel, until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in. And in this way all Israel will be saved.”

If “all Israel” is a reference to the descendants of Abraham according to the flesh, then the dispensationalists might have a point. But the full context indicates that Paul’s emphasis is not on some future restoration of physical Israel, but upon the present work God is accomplishing by his grace through the power of the Holy Spirit among all those who are being saved in Christ.

For circumcision indeed is of value if you obey the law, but if you break the law, your circumcision becomes uncircumcision. So, if a man who is uncircumcised keeps the precepts of the law, will not his uncircumcision be regarded as circumcision? Then he who is physically uncircumcised but keeps the law will condemn you who have the written code and circumcision but break the law. For no one is a Jew who is merely one outwardly, nor is circumcision outward and physical. But a Jew is one inwardly, and circumcision is a matter of the heart, by the Spirit, not by the letter. His praise is not from man but from God. (Romans 2:25-29, ESV)

But now the righteousness of God has been manifested apart from the law, although the Law and the Prophets bear witness to it—the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ for all who believe. For there is no distinction: for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and are justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, whom God put forward as a propitiation by his blood, to be received by faith. This was to show God's righteousness, because in his divine forbearance he had passed over former sins. It was to show his righteousness at the present time, so that he might be just and the justifier of the one who has faith in Jesus. (Romans 3:21-26, ESV)

But it is not as though the word of God has failed. For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel, and not all are children of Abraham because they are his offspring, but "Through Isaac shall your offspring be named." This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as offspring. For this is what the promise said: "About this time next year I will return and Sarah shall have a son." And not only so, but also when Rebecca had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God's purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of his call—she was told, "The older will serve the younger." As it is written, "Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated." (Romans 9:6-13, ESV)

Paul thus abolishes any claim which “Israel after the flesh” might have to being God’s chosen people. For even those saved under the Old Covenant were not saved by following the law, but by grace through faith.

I ask, then, has God rejected his people? By no means! For I myself am an Israelite, a descendant of Abraham, a member of the tribe of Benjamin. God has not rejected his people whom he foreknew. Do you not know what the Scripture says of Elijah, how he appeals to God against Israel? "Lord, they have killed your prophets, they have demolished your altars, and I alone am left, and they seek my life." But what is God's reply to him? "I have kept for myself seven thousand men who have not bowed the knee to Baal." So too at the present time there is a remnant, chosen by grace. But if it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works; otherwise grace would no longer be grace.

What then? Israel failed to obtain what it was seeking. The elect obtained it, but the rest were hardened. . . (Romans 11:1-7, ESV)

What, then, are we to make of “All Israel will be saved?” If “no one is a Jew who is merely one outwardly” and “not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel,” then the “Israel” out of which “all” will be saved is not a “flesh and blood” entity. As Paul says elsewhere, “I tell you this, brothers, flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God” (1 Corinthians 15:50a). “All Israel,” then is the totality of God’s people saved not by observing the law (Old Covenant), but by grace through faith (New Covenant). This salvation is open to all, whether Gentile or Jew. For Paul, while serving as “an apostle to the Gentiles,” still holds out some hope that he might “save some” of his fellow Jews (Romans 11:13-14).

Paul’s eloquent discourse on the superiority of the New Covenant of grace over the Old Covenant of the law is key to understanding Jesus’ “fig tree” parable. Paul explains in practical terms the law’s utter inadequacy to effect salvation. This is necessary because his primary audience consists of Gentiles who are not familiar with Jewish law and prophetic imagery. Jesus, on the other hand, was speaking to a Jewish audience and thus employed the imagery with which any good Jew would have been familiar. The most significant of those images was “the fig tree.”

Dispensationalists often employ a rather dubious hermeneutic known as “the law of first mention” to every Scriptural reference to “the fig tree.” Since, they claim, the “first mention” of “the fig tree” in Scripture is a reference to Israel, then every subsequent reference must also refer to Israel. The absurdity of this “law” is easily demonstrated by applying it to another of the dispensationalists’ favorite biblical terms, “the son of destruction” mentioned by Paul in 2 Thessalonians 2:3. If “the law of first mention” holds true, then Paul can only be referring to Judas Iscariot because the “first mention” of “the son of destruction” is found in John 17:12 in reference to Christ’s betrayer. Yet, if anyone were to suggest such an interpretation of 2 Thessalonians 2:3, there is no doubt the dispensationalists would rend their garments and scream, “Blasphemy!”

But let us carry this foolishness a step further. Where is “the fig tree” first mentioned in Scripture? As it turns out, it enters the picture quite early.

So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths. (Genesis 3:6-7, ESV)

“The fig tree” first comes onto the scene as the source of clothing for Adam and Eve, attempting to hide their nakedness—that is, their sin—after eating from the forbidden tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It is plausible in this context to suggest that "the fig tree" and "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil" are one and the same tree. For, in seeking an immediate remedy to the shame of their nakedness, Adam and Eve would most likely have taken the "leaves" from the "tree" in their closest proximity, namely, the tree from which they had just eaten. If, indeed "the fig tree" and "the tree of the knowledge of good and evil" are the same tree, then Adam and Eve's seeking to cover themselves with its leaves would illustrate an all too common human tendency, namely, seeking a solution to a problem from the very source of the problem itself.

But Adam and Eve realize that their “fig leaves” are woefully inadequate to hide their shame and when they hear “the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day” (v. 8), a sound that once brought them comfort and joy, they are seized with fear and hide “themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” After being confronted by God and judged on account of their sin, Adam and Eve make a crucial decision; one which literally gives them a new lease on life.

The man called his wife’s name Eve, because she was the mother of all living. And The Lord God made for Adam and his wife garments of skins and clothed them. (Genesis 3:20-21, ESV)

In naming his wife “Eve,” meaning “living,” Adam was declaring his faith in God to provide a way by which he and all who would come after him would be restored to life, that is, to the perfect relationship with God they had enjoyed before the rebellion and consequent fall. Thus, God “clothed” Adam and Eve in “garments of skins,” the flesh of a slain animal, namely, a lamb. This “clothing” was adequate because, unlike the “fig leaves” which Adam and Eve had hastily sewn together, the “garments of skins” were fashioned by God at great cost, the cost of the life of a lamb.

The “fig leaves” and the “garments of skins,” therefore, represent the two covenants which serve God’s purpose in redeeming his creation. The “fig leaves” are the Old Covenant, the covenant of the law, humankind striving after righteousness by its own efforts but ultimately unable to cover its nakedness. The “garments of skins” are the New Covenant, the covenant of grace, new life offered as God’s free gift, made possible by the shedding of the blood of the lamb. The “fig leaves” lead ultimately to death; the “garments of skins” lead ultimately to eternal life.

The image of Israel, God’s Old Covenant people, as a “fig tree,” then, is not intended to emphasize resilience or eventual restoration. On the contrary, if Israel is a “fig tree,” then the provision it offers for sin—the Temple sacrificial system—is ultimately inadequate. In fact, it is so inadequate that it must be supplanted by another tree; a tree which brings life from the dead.

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed. For you were straying like sheep, but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls. (1 Peter 2:24-25)

That “tree,” of course, is the cross of Christ, which stands at the very center of God’s redemptive plan. Here, Old Covenant and New Covenant come together. The dividing wall between Jew and Gentile is abolished and God in Christ forms a new creation, the Church, as his eternal covenant people chosen by grace from before the foundation of the world.

But the question remains, what becomes of the “fig tree?” What “lesson” does it convey, even to those of us two thousand years removed from Jesus’ stirring and often frightening prophecy on the Mount of Olives? In employing what ought to be a familiar image, Jesus is reminding us yet again of the futility of seeking any other “clothing” for our nakedness other than that which he himself provides. The fig tree may blossom for a season and its leaves may shelter us from exposure to sunlight, but summer eventually yields to winter. The fig tree withers and we are left cold and naked to hide “among the trees of the garden.” Confronted with the ugly reality of our sin—nation against nation, kingdom against kingdom, famines, earthquakes, wars and rumors of wars—we have only one hope: to cry out in faith to him whom we hear “walking in the garden in the cool of the day”; the One who says, “when you see all these things, know that he is near, at the very gates.”

The lesson of the fig tree is, for those who believe, a message of hope and comfort in the midst of the tribulation inevitable in this life. For what Jesus says is that whenever our human efforts fail and we are confronted with the devastating consequences of sin, not only upon ourselves as individuals but, indeed, upon the whole of creation; whenever it appears that “the end of the world” is indeed near, we can take heart because we know that the Lord, our Redeemer, our Savior, the One who will “clothe” us in heavenly splendor, is nearer still!