Thinking-Christianly

One of the most remarkable friendships in the Old Testament is that between David and Jonathan. When you look at the text carefully, it becomes evident that in many ways Jonathan was the leader in the relationship. He had much more to lose. He took more initiative. He expresses commitment to David more often. The apparent heir to the throne was a man of great character and great grace. He provoked the ire of his jealous dad, but stood with him in battle until the end.

Some modern commentators on the text contend that the relationship between David and Jonathan was more than one of deep friendship. They assert that it was a physical same-sex relationship.

1 Samuel 18:3 states “And Jonathan made a covenant with David because he loved him as himself.” David says of Jonathan, “Your love for me was wonderful, more wonderful than that of women.” One conclusion we sometimes hear is that these verses describe a sexual relationship. Does the text support that conclusion?

Both verses use the same word for love. What does that word mean? The Hebrew word translated love in these texts often (but not exclusively) refers to love between individuals. But it is not a sexual word. It describes Abraham’s love for his son Isaac (Genesis 22:2) or a slave’s commitment to his master that leads him to indenture himself (Exodus 21:8). It is the word used in the injunction of Leviticus 19:18 to “love your neighbor as yourself.” It’s the word the text uses to describe the relationship between Naomi and Ruth (Ruth 14:15). To argue that it is sexual in nature is to create a meaning foreign to the 35 times the word occurs in the Hebrew Old Testament texts.

When the Old Testament speaks of sexual love, it does use a Hebrew word translated “love” in English in Ezekiel 16:8. But it is a different word. Sexual relations are more often described (without the English word “love”) in terms of a Hebrew word sometimes translated as “to know,” as in Genesis 4:1.

The language of the Old Testament gives no support to those who wish to see a sexual same-sex relationship between David and Jonathan. Titus 1:15 states, “To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted.” The presumption behind the assertion that David and Jonathan had a sexual relationship may reflect that principle at work. It does not reflect careful exegesis of the Hebrew text.

Some modern commentators look at the account of Genesis 18-19 and draw novel conclusions about the rationale behind God’s action against the inhabitants of the city. One of the more recent arguments is that the condemnation of Sodom and its destruction was because of the sin of inhospitality. Does the account support that conclusion?

In Genesis 18 the Lord gives clues about the upcoming act. Verse 20 states, “The outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah is so great and their sin is so grievous.” The following verse reinforces the fact that an outcry had reached God about some kind of behavior in the city. We are not told more specifics in that paragraph. If we were to stop here without additional information, it would be unlikely that we would assume that the issue that caused a cry of distress to God was the lack of hospitality. For example, the use of the word for “outcry” as in 1 Samuel 5:12 normally refers to something that is exceedingly grievous or painful. There are no parallel passages where complaints of inhospitality rise up from the residents of a city.

In the context, the misbehavior that led to divine destruction was occurring before the events of chapter 19, where the angels visit Lot. God’s response was not based on the events of that visit alone, although it may have been representative of the condition of the city.

Genesis 19:2-5 demonstrates that hospitality was indeed shown to the two visitors. It includes the washing of feet and the preparation of a meal. Lot was sitting at the gate of the city and responded immediately to them with a welcome spirit. One wonders how the two visitors could have received a better welcome than the one Lot provided.

The events of 19: 6-11 show no link to hospitality. Lot’s willingness to give his two virgin daughters to those outside the door is an extremely odd remedy for a lack of social graces. The euphemism “to know” as a synonym for sexual engagement in verse 5 is the same word Lot uses in verse 8 describing his daughters. (See also Genesis 4:1.) To recast this as some other kind of expectation is without warrant in this context.

The New Testament affirms the historicity of the event and the fact that the misbehavior was of a sexual nature and not simply a lack of hospitality. The author of the book of Jude (verse 7) certainly understood sexual immorality to be the issue in the city that brought about divine action. Jesus spoke of this historic incident as well. (See Matthew 11:23.)

The revised understanding of this incident may win points for creativity, but it is not justified by the text.

The book of Job features a dialogue between a man who is suffering and the response of several of his friends. Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar agree to leave their families and spend a week consoling Job. They meet a man whose wealth was stolen, whose children perished in a building collapse, and whose health deteriorated. They begin the process of caring for Job wisely. Job 2:12 tells us that they expressed their grief in visible oriental fashion. They wept, tore their robes, and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat in silence with Job for seven days.

Unfortunately, as they listen to Job’s lament of his situation, the three conclude that Job’s affliction is the result of his own selfish and sinful behavior, and they proceed to accuse him of wrongdoing without evidence and demand he repent of presumed sin. In the last chapters of Job, God reproves Job—not for his sinful past—but for his arrogance in demanding that God justify why his providence allowed such things. God upbraids Job’s friends and vindicates Job, making the last part of his life more fruitful than the first.

As I’ve read this account over the years, I’ve assumed that Job essentially suffered alone—that nobody cared for him and that Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar represented the attitude of everyone to Job. I forgot that this conversation that comprises the bulk of the book was maybe hours or days in length, and that it’s part of a much bigger story.

The truth is that many people cared for Job and they helped him emotionally and financially. God used the compassion and love of a community as his means of restoring Job. Surprised? Consider Job 42:11: “All his brothers and sisters and everyone who had known him before came and ate with him in his house. They comforted and consoled him over all the trouble the Lord had brought upon him, and each one gave him a piece of silver and a gold ring.”

In modern terms, it looks like Job’s friends and relatives had a huge pot-luck at his home. They loved Job and had been touched by his character and friendship over the years. They partnered with him in his grief. It would be great to know what their conversation with him sounded like. It was probably much more thoughtful, tender, and affirming than some of the things Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar said. And then God prompted them to be generous. Each gave a little to help Job out. He did not have to go to some capital investment firm. In a small way each helped him get back on his feet. His affliction did not strip him of his abilities, his networks, or his honest business ethics. And he went on to prosper over the next 140 years.

In looking into the book of Job about big theological themes—such as the sovereignty of God and the tendency we have to misunderstand the problem of suffering—let us not forget the power of friendship and simple acts of kindness. These were present in the narrative as well, and they are a sample of the kind of caring God has always called his people to—especially in times when we may not have answers for all the “why” questions of life.

Critics of Christianity contend that the idea of resurrection and life after death was borrowed from various places by the writers of the New Testament. They assert that these pagan myths were inserted into the Jesus story and were alien to Hebrew thought.

A materialistic culture that excludes the possibility of the supernatural a priori naturally drifts toward such conclusions. They are not supported by the text of scripture. For example, Matthew 22:23 ff. describes how the Sadducees tried to trap Jesus with the logic of a hypothetical situation that mocked the notion of an afterlife. In the case of multiple marriages, who would be regarded as “man and wife” in any afterlife. Would there be polyandry in eternity? Jesus responded by informing them that the institution of marriage as we know it is for this life only. Realities are different in the kingdom of heaven. (See 22:31.) He then argues from the tense of a verb to maintain that the resurrection hope can be traced back to the days of Abraham. [This, incidentally, is a strong argument that inspiration applies to the words of scripture and not simply the concepts. The exact words were significant to Christ.]

Another ancient reference to afterlife and resurrection occurs in Job, perhaps the oldest texts of the Old Testament. As Job refutes his friends, who seem intent on linking his plight to massive moral failure, he says, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God.” (Job 19:25-26) This is an amazing statement. He understands that at some point in time God will make his presence known on earth in a visible way. He also realizes that he will have some kind of resurrected form after death, and see God in that state.

Because the Bible is the product of progressive revelation, it is understandable that the greatest disclosure of the resurrection comes with the advent of the Messiah in the gospels. But even in the times of Abraham and Moses God did not leave mankind without the hope of reunion and restoration for those who put their confidence in him.

Critics of scripture dislike Daniel because it contains predictive prophecies that are amazing accurate, ranging from the reign of Nebuchadnezzar starting in 605 B.C. to the Roman Empire, which began to exert its influence around 241 B.C. Verses like Daniel 2:7 depict events accurately that were hundreds in the future.

If critics are successful in dating Daniel in the year 170 B.C., the prophecies become history and the supernatural elements of the book no longer point to a God who orders future events.

Does the evidence support a late date for Daniel? A fragment of the book appears in the Dead Sea scrolls collection. This copy predates the arbitrary assignment to 170 B.C. Daniel is mentioned three times in the Book of Ezekiel, which is recognized as a 6^th century B.C. work. The Jewish Talmud attributes the book of Daniel to the historical person mentioned in Ezekiel.

For critics to be successful in their charge, they would have to demonstrate through archaeology or manuscript evidence that the Daniel of the 6^th century could not be the author of the book that goes by his title. Instead, they offer conjecture built on an anti-supernatural bias that accords with their presuppositions.

Replacing scholarship with speculation may further their agenda, but it is not good research.

I have an uncle who didn’t know how old he was in years. He was born when my grandparents were in the desert southwest during the depression. He picked a year in order to join the military during World War II, but he couldn’t be precise. That’s the way it was for many back then. It’s not too difficult to guess the age of a human within a few years. But the age of the earth is a different matter.

 Some in the Christian community seek to look for answers in scripture. English Bishop James Ussher was one of the most notable individuals who sought for a specific answer in scripture. For example, Bishop Ussher came to the conclusion that Adam and Eve were driven from Paradise on Monday  November 10, 4004 BC.

Such precision is beset with several difficulties. First, the Old Testament does not provide all the details needed for this task, and some sequences of events may be concurrent rather than consecutive. This calculation assumes there are no gaps in the genealogical tables in Genesis 5 and 11. But the Bible demonstrates there are. Genesis 11:12 tells us Arphaxad became the father of Salah. But Luke 3:36 inserts Cainan between them. Matthew 1:8 refers to Joram the father of Uzziah. But the parallel listing in 1 Chronicles 3:11-14 adds 4 more generations between the two individuals. In addition, the ancient versions, e.g. the LXX, sometimes offer variant figures. This adds more mathematical uncertainty into the equation.

Other assumptions come into play: that no names are omitted from the genealogies, that all the numbers given are consecutive, and that numbers used in an ancient biblical source carry the same meaning as that associated with them in the modern Western mind.

 Another key factor is purpose. The Bible does give accurate lines of descent, but it does not give complete chronologies. Its primary purpose is to trace ancestry rather than provide a modern Western chronology. This is reflected in Matthew 1:17, where a numeric pattern is used to abbreviate the lineage of Jesus. Matthew writes, “Thus there were fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Christ.” The names selected reflect a symmetry that has meaning in the culture.

The good news in all of this is that the Bible does not equivocate regarding the what and the how of creation. God created all that exists out of nothing (ex nihilo). This reality gives meaning to all that exists, both to the created order and to man. And that knowledge changes everything.

Many of us who wear the label “follower of Jesus Christ” discover that we tend to view scripture through the lens of the self. What does it say about me? Where can it help me improve? What tools does it offer to enhance my life? Those are not bad questions. But if they are the only kind of questions we ask, they reflect a tendency to view the revelation of God as a textbook for self-improvement rather than a disclosure of the majesty, glory, and greatness of God himself.

It’s easy for me to read scripture with a distorted perspective. Despite my insistence that I’m looking for God, I discover that often I’m very me-centered. I tend to filter what I see and hear and read through the filter of the self. I want answers for my problems; hope to conquer my fears, and promises to enrich my future.

For example, American Christianity has made much of the image of the potter and the clay. We look at Jeremiah chapter 18 where the prophet is commanded to go to the house of a potter. He sees the potter forming a vessel. The clay does not comply with the idea the potter has in his mind, so he starts all over with the same clay and creates a different pot. We take the illustration and conclude that each of us are pots in the hand of God. We conclude that he is shaping us in a way he thinks is best. Our job is to be pliable and responsive to his touch.

Those conclusions may be useful, but they are not the point of the teaching. The focus of the story is not to you and me as individuals, but to nations. Look at the comparison in verse 6: “Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.” Though there may be implications for us as individuals, the thrust of the message to Jeremiah is the God is Lord over nations. He wants the prophet and his audience to understand that God rules over the kingdoms of men. (Look at the repetition of the phrase “nation or kingdom” in verses 7 and 9.)

In our secularized culture where God is pushed to an invisible place behind the pulpits of America, the word to Jeremiah is that the God of the Bible rules over the nations of the earth. He shapes the course of men and nations. If they submit to his revelation and order their lives after his principles, they will flourish. If they reject him, they will decay and disappear from the pages of history. The picture here is that God as potter responds to nations based on the kind of clay they are—the way in which they cooperate with his revealed truth or stand against it. If God decrees doom and the culture takes the warning seriously and repents, that doom will be averted (verse 8). If God promises blessing and the culture turns from God, it will suffer (verses 9-10).

When I take a grand truth like this and view it only in terms of myself and God, I shrink the message to a personal postcard. In its original form, it is more grand, more bold, and more threatening than that. Let’s be careful not to personalize our understanding of scripture so much that we inadvertently dull its challenge to the culture around us. In doing so, we can unwittingly tame the truth of God before people who need to hear the full force of his claims.

I recently responded to a question about the length of the days in creation. How long were the six days of creation? Were they six indeterminate periods of time or were they days as we understand them—about 24 hours in length?

One dilemma with this question is that Christians who believe the historicity of Genesis chapters 1-11 have allowed themselves to be polarized over this issue. That is unfortunate, because it tends to divide the body of Christ on an issue where both sides stand against the alternatives of the world. Regardless of the timing, both sides agree that the Bible clearly depicts God as creating all that exists—all matter and energy ex nihilo, that is out of nothing. The first atom, the first protein molecule, the first strand of living DNA all came from him.

Materialists have no credible alternative. They can pretend that matter and energy are eternal, which violates the second law of thermodynamics. Or they can claim that our part of the universe came from some other place in the universe. But this only prompts the question, “Where did the first part come from?” And so the question regresses without being answered.

The biblical answer clearly points to the fact that God preexisted time and space and designed all that we see. It’s a logical picture that makes sense except for those who arbitrarily exclude any kind of supernatural account of origins. But their dismissal is not scientific. It’s philosophical. And it’s arbitrary.

Back to the question of how long this took. The sequence in Genesis 1 is depicted in days. The difficulty in describing this precisely comes in the use of the Hebrew word “day.” It is used in three different ways in the Old Testament. Sometimes it refers to what we call daytime, the period between sunrise and sunset. Sometimes it refers to a full rotation of the earth—approximately 24 hours to us. Sometimes it refers to a period of time. The Bible speaks of the “day of the Lord” or the “day of Christ” or the “day of wrath.”

In Genesis 1:5, for example, the word for “day” appears twice, but does not mean the same thing both times. My suspicion is that God did not describe the time period with stopwatch precision because the key issue is not the length of his creative work, but the fact that it occurred. How long does it take for a sovereign God to call matter into existence? A fraction of a millisecond would be sufficient. In some ways it’s like asking, “How long did it take Jesus to transform water into wine?” It does not matter. The fact is, he did it!

We can extrapolate current biological and chemical processes and guess about the timetable God might have used. Our curious nature will want to know. There are variables we cannot accurately weigh in any creation scenario we may devise. And Christ’s miracles prove God can shortcut what we know as normal processes. So it would be best not to be dogmatic about the possibilities we devise.

As God brought something out of nothing and order out of chaos, he created the universe that we know and made us in his image and for his glory. Let that be our focus in any case.

It’s not uncommon for people to classify the book of Job as an ancient Hebrew myth. For them, it’s a quaint story like Johnny Appleseed. It is a fictional morality play. It teaches about perseverance through suffering in the name of God.

I attended a lecture where a professor nicely broke the book up into three parts. The prelude, which was invented, was the interchange between God and Satan in heaven. The second section that comprises the core of the book is the semi-historical story of Job and his tragedies. The third part was another fabrication where God confronted Job’s comforters and restored the earthly things back to his devoted servant. This presentation packaged the supernatural and the natural into convenient categories. On the surface you have the simple story of a man suffering. Then on either end is a human invention of God’s role in this tale—at least from some anonymous author’s point of view.

If I were sitting in a university classroom listening to this presentation as a student accustomed to the secular thinking of the day, I would likely be convinced that this was an accurate representation of the book.

The problem with this approach is that it collides with the view of Job in other parts of scripture. One passage that must be considered is Ezekiel chapter 14. In this chapter God warns his people about their rebellion and predicting judgment if they do not repent. Verses 12-14 warn:

The world of the Lord came to me: “Son of man, if a count4ry sins against me by being unfaithful and I stretch our my hand against it to cut off its food supply and to send famine upon it and kill its men and their animals, even if these three men—Noah, Daniel and Job were in it, they could save only themselves by their righteousness declares the Lord.”

The argument is that the rebellious person has no immunity from God’s judgment because of location or association with righteous people. Rescue or ruin is a personal matter.

The striking fact about this declaration is the three people mentioned—Noah, Daniel and Job. All three men are treated as historical figures, with Daniel being the most contemporary. To assume that two are fictional is to claim that Ezekiel would be saying something like, “Consider the character of JFK, Popeye, and Paul Bunyan.” We don’t mix real and fictional characters in our language like that, and neither did the Old Testament writers. Smooth logic never replaces careful study.

Caricatures abound in our media culture. Today it’s easy to assume that Wall Street executives are universally greedy and corrupt. We forget that among them are some who are gracious, extremely responsible, and even generous. But the selfishness and pragmatism of some tend to reshape our image of all. On a personal level, you may have had a negative experience with an electrician, a car salesman, or a furniture dealer. And those memories have painted an unflattering picture of all who share those job skills. You may be cautious, skeptical, and mistrusting.

In recent generations one group that has been cast in a negative light consists of the courageous men of God who spoke into the culture of the Old Testament. The prophets are often viewed, even subconsciously by Christians, as individuals who enjoyed blasting the culture in which they lived and begging God to send all kinds of horrible judgments on the people around them. Today the caricature is the bearded person in a tattered robe who holds a sign reading, “Repent! The end is near!”

How often do we associate the heart and the message of the prophets with grace? How likely are you and I to see their message as one in which God woos and invites his people into greater fellowship with him?

As I’ve been reflecting on Jeremiah recently, I’ve been amazed at the gracious words the Lord speaks through this prophet. Consider the following text from Jeremiah 7:23-26:

 I gave them this command: Obey me, and I will be your God and you will be my people. Walk in all the ways I command you, that it may go well with you. But they did not listen or pay attention; instead, they followed the stubborn inclinations of their evil hearts. They went backward and not forward. From the time your forefathers left Egypt until now, day after day, again and again I sent you my servants the prophets. But they did not listen to me or pay attention. They were stiff-necked and did more evil than their forefathers.

If you look carefully, you see a persistent and patient God calling his people to a life of health and fruitfulness. He does not ask for the impossible. God invites them to trust him—to obey his commands. He wants them to do this that “it may go well with” them. It’s a picture of his sincere desire that they flourish and not become entangled in destructive things.

Unfortunately, they tune God out. “They did not listen or pay attention,” the text tells us. In fact, there is regression. They move backwards morally and relationally with God. And this slide is not for a short season, but for many generations.

What would a wrathful God do in such a situation? I suspect he would abandon them or crush them to powder. But notice what God does. The Bible says, “day after day, again and again I sent you my servants the prophets.” This is not the picture of a vengeful deity sending angry prophets to gleefully pronounce doom. It’s the picture of a gracious God showing incredible patience and investing in generation after generation as he calls the people of the nation to health and wholeness in partnering with him. It’s a picture of a God who relentlessly pursues a stubborn people so that they might taste all he has for them in life. It’s the kind of grace that goes far beyond our patience and our kindness with those who stubbornly resist the wise advice and counsel we offer.

When you think of the prophets, try not to picture them as disgruntled men who gleefully spoke of doom and destruction. Picture them as men who loved God and their nation, and who were agents of God’s grace who had the courage to speak into a culture that often did not want to listen. Such is the mission of the church today. We are to be that voice that mixes truth and grace. And as we do, God in his mercy gives us the opportunity to watch self-destructive lives find the same hope, certainty, and life to which the prophets pointed.