Findings from the Bar Kokhba Revolt

"Archaeologists in Israel have found the largest ever cache of rare coins from the time of the last Jewish revolt against the Romans ...

It was found in a cave in the Judaean Hills near Jerusalem that served as a hiding place for the Jewish fighters during the so-called Bar Kokhba revolt (132-136 CE), named after its leader."

Read the rest.

NIV Twenty Eleven

The big news in the Christian publishing world, if you by some miracle have not already heard, is that Zondervan and Biblica (the former IBS) have decided to do a complete revision of the New International Version for release in 2011.

As a part of this decision, it appears the TNIV will be phased out. I've become rather fond of the TNIV, far more than I am of the NIV, and so that news was disappointing.

However, some reports make it sound as if the new-NIV will be in large part reliant on the scholarship of the TNIV, which went far beyond the controversy of gender inclusive language.

It is of course that gender inclusivity that garnered scorn from many big names in conservative evangelicalism, and the resulting bad press ensured that the TNIV would never be a viable option to replace its older brother (or sister)...

Some, like the council of biblical manhood and womanhood, are hailing this as a victory over liberalism. Others see it as Zondervan caving in to pressure from a small vocal and backwards minority.

I'm not sure what to think at this point. The fact that some of the best names from the TNIV project, like Doug Moo, are heading up the revision is encouraging, but I'll be disappointed if indeed in the end it is mostly about appeasement. I hope that it's more than that.

It's a few years off, and there are plenty of other great translations (the TNIV, NRSV, and ESV are the three I lean on), but none the less seeing how large a market share the NIV line has this is a significant and potentially risky move.

For more information visit the official site of the NIV2011.

Also, Scot McKnight and Koinonia posted thoughts on the upcoming revision.

Rob Bell's Latest: Drops Like Stars

First off all, thank you to Zondervan and especially Andrew for letting me review Drops Like Stars: A Few Thoughts on Creativity and Suffering

In the interest of full disclosure, I attend Mars Hill and have for about a year now. This past spring during the Lamentations series I first head from Rob that he was going to be putting out a new book. A book that, like the series on Lamentations, dealt with suffering and our response to the most devastating moments of life.

Now that, a few months later, Drops Like Stars is finally in my hands I can say a few things.

First of all, this is not like Rob's other books.

It's big, as in a foot tall coffee table big.

It's illustrated, and not the 'little graph of theological positions' illustrated, full page hi-res pictures illustrated.

Though a much larger book than Velvet Elvis, Sex God, or Jesus Wants to Save Christians, it is also significantly shorter in text.

Rob makes quite a bit of use of negative space (a few words over a blank background), and visual aids.

Like this .

Finally, unlike for example Jesus Wants to Save Christians, it is less exegesis of the Biblical narrative, and more of a very personal reflection. Anecdotes and a human element that tie into the big questions of suffering, like "why me" "why doesn't God step in" "what now"?

So if you come to it expecting the next Velvet Elvis honestly you might find yourself disappointed.

However, if you approach the book for what it is trying to be, well then it is actually a great (albeit short) read, a beautiful visual experience, a deep and reflective journey, and a work that is easy to repeatedly return to.

The presentation may not be everyone's cup of tea (or coffee), but I found it very effective. It fit the content, it made individual statements stick in your mind in a way traditional format doesn't, and it made you contemplate each story and chapter quite closely.

The emotional impact of Rob's description of the closing scene of the parable of the prodigal son, where Jesus leaves it open and ambiguous, doesn't give us the happy ending. In a movie the camera would pull back to see tents and partygoers (beautifully pictured opposite) while leaving the older brothers response unresolved.

It felt like real life.

That's the best way I can describe it, and perhaps the best complement I can pay to this intriguing and creative book.

If visual arts resonate with you, and if you approach this book for what it is, then I would highly recommend it. No doubt many will criticize elements of it (like that's new for Rob's books), but here is the thing, it's not trying to be other books, it's trying something new, and comparing it to books that have a different goal is not good form.

A few years ago I'm not sure what I would have made of Drops Like Stars. But as I come to realize that life and learning and knowledge and development encompass more than dense prose, but also the clever turn of phrase, the succinct penetrating thought, and the beautiful image, this book hit just where I needed it to.

"Even the failed pieces are essential" pg 113.

Church Government

Time for a survey.

Purely out of curiosity I was hoping to learn where the readers of NWF stand on church government.

Feel free to describe why you prefer a certain model (or why you disapprove of another).

Debate is always more than welcome - but I'll say in advance that I'm not apt to get into that debate simply because I'm not really sure where I stand at this point.

I'd say with the exceptions of Papal authority on the one hand and the 'no structure no leaders' form on the other, I can see good arguments behind anything from the Anglican structure to independent Bible churches.

Perhaps that can serve as a challenge, if you come down strong on one style being biblical then try and convert me to your team as it were.

Indicatives, Imperatives, and Reductionism

In studying Christopher Wright’s brilliant book entitled “The Mission of God” I came across a section where Chris articulates the way in which indicatives (statements of reality) and imperatives (commands) are intertwined in the Scriptures.

This was not a lecture on grammar, or Greek and Hebrew sentence structure. Instead his goal was to explain how commands work in the Bible. His assertion being that rather than a scenario where God just likes to make up rules for people, what we actually see is that the great commands in the Scriptures are based upon statements of reality.

So that when YHWH gives the ten commandments it is not on the basis of ‘here are a bunch of random laws I thought up one afternoon’ but instead begins with a historical reality – “I am the Lord your God who took you out of Egypt”. Based on the reality of the situation, who God has revealed himself to be, and what he has done in history, his people ought to respond to said reality by living in a specific sort of way.

Likewise when Peter calls the crowd at Pentecost to repent, be baptized in the name of name of Jesus, and receive the Spirit, it was on the basis of what he had said a few verses earlier. That the reality they find themselves faced with is that “God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” (Acts 2:36). So on the basis of that indicative, they ought to turn to Jesus as their Messiah.

Paul in similar terms will often base his instructions on a statement of reality. Be it calling us to humility based on the humble act of Jesus in his incarnation and death, or calling on us to not live according to the sinful ways of the powers of this world, because in reality Jesus has conquered those powers.

The point of all of this is twofold.

First of all, if we divorce the indicatives and imperatives from each other we do violence to the text.

If we spend all our time theologizing about the statements of reality, studying the way God led his people out of Egypt, marveling at the incarnation, contemplating the Trinity, and our hearts and actions are not changed by what we study, then we would have been just as well to have not studied at all.

Equally, if we try for whatever reason to follow the way of life set out in the Bible, if we are loving and generous and compassionate, but we have no concept of why we do these things we will inevitably do them in an incomplete and misguided way. Don’t get me wrong, I wish everyone would be more loving people, but that alone is not the point.

The point is the world is a messed up place but God is setting things to rights, Jesus came to reconcile all things to God, including us, and we now need to respond with love and play our part in the mission of God.

Only when we set the commands in the reality which is their context will we know what true love and compassion and service should look like (like Jesus).

Secondly, if the realities and commands of Scripture are tied together, we must avoid being reductionist. It simply will not do to continue to pull out context-free verses, declare them to be the reality on which we must act, and then lay out our new laws of mission statements.

Though almost anyone would agree that this is not something we should be doing, in practice you can see it throughout our writing, preaching, music, counseling, etc.

A responsible, mature hermeneutic will take a passage in light of not only it’s immediate context but also in light of the overarching narrative of the Bible. So that we can get a picture of the reality of what God is doing in the world and in response live in such a way as to play our proper role in that story.

Commentary on Isaiah

Question for any of you out in the blogosphere.

I've just started working through the book of Isaiah, and noticed that my selection of commentaries is pretty weak there.

Outside of a handful of one-volume commentaries and works which overview the major prophets, it looks like John Watts' two volumes in the Word Biblical Commentary is going to the only weightier commentary I'll be turning to.

That said, does anyone have an Isaiah commentary they've found to be particularly insightful and helpful in their study?

If so I'd appreciate the recommendation.

Some criteria I'm looking for would be a commentary that takes the historical context and authorial intent seriously, broadly evangelical would be good, but I'd shy away from any that spend all their time using the book for Left-behind esq. speculations.

As far as technicality goes, anywhere from the Tyndale series to the ICC set is fine, so long as you've used the commentary and been impressed.

Thanks

Giving Mark Driscoll a Chance

I'll be up front with this, Mark Driscoll is not someone I historically have been all that fond of.

There are a variety of reasons for that, from theology, to social issues, to attitude. Also, the fact that he called my pastor a heretic didn't help, I'm just saying - bad form Mark.

However, I've decided to give him a second look.

I'm giving Driscoll a fresh look first of all because he is a major figure in the Evangelical church, especially for younger pastors, teachers, and students whom I will spend the rest of my life interacting with in church and the academy.

Knowing what he is saying based on his own words instead of internet vitriol, can only improve the quality of dialogue and the basis of my discussion with those who find themselves in that stream.

Also, it is becoming increasingly important for me to be intentional about giving people and ideas a truly fair hearing.

Actually that is in part because of how incredibly frustrated I've been with so many people's reaction to Wright - how they clearly misunderstand and/or twist what he is saying, how they refuse to hear out the whole of his arguments and focus on out of context fragments, and how they dismiss him because he doesn't fit their preconceived theological grids.

I am determined not to do that, but instead to let people speak, on their own terms not in a way that must fit into my own framework, and honestly and open-mindedly evaluate what they say.

Not that the end result of that evaluation can not be disagreement or rejection of a leader or idea, but as far as it's possible I do not want to contribute to the unfortunate tendency in theological circles to dismiss the 'other' without ever really hearing them.

Finally and most importantly is that Trevor, a friend and brother who I have an incredible amount of respect for, mentioned the last couple times we've met how he really values Driscoll.

When a person is just out there, online, in books, at a church in another state, it is pretty easy to look at them and hear things that put you off and from then on tune them out.

When someone who you respect as a student of theology and as a fellow believer states that they actually really like that person you've tuned out, it makes it much much harder to dismiss them.

We should never be too proud or stuck in our ways to listen to the people in our lives.

I'm going to read one of Mark's books in the next week or so (probably "Vintage Jesus" or "Death by Love") and I've started going through a few podcast sermon series the past week. So far I'll say this - though there are some very significant areas where Mark and I would disagree, and though I think he can be harsh and unfair to his opponents, I think that Mark Driscoll is a man who is committed to the Scriptures and incredibly passionate about Jesus, and I have to admit that the Mark I remember from a few years ago is really starting to grow up and demonstrate a maturity and desire for humility that I had not seen before.

We'll see where I stand after I dig into this further.

Traitor to church - Loyal to Church

I've read a few articals recently about the place of the church, and about those who walk away from it.

Much of this conversation has been sparked by DeYoung and Kluck's "Why We Love the Church", which is a response to the ever incresing number of books which are critical of the church, especially the traditionally conceived evangelical church.

I've not read the book in question, and frankly after the really disappointing experience I've had with their "Why We're Not Emergent" I doubt I will, but it has brought this issue to mind.

iMonk, in a post this week about the book makes a pretty cutting statment "many of the assertions being made are not necessary and have about them the scent of males in power having far too much fun flirting with infallibility".

The irony is that in a debate almost entirely among people claiming the mantel of Protestant Evangelical there are a lot of people who sound like the council of Trent.

The witch-hunts against those damned emergers, the heretical pastors/scholars who like Wright, and those easily deceived believers who second guess the rapture or TULIP might just be getting a tad out of hand these days.

The thing is, if you walk away from the church, that is not the same as walking away from the Church. Being so hurt, or frustrated, or disenfranchised with the institutional church in it's local manifestation that you leave is not the same as walking away from the people of God and the Bride of Christ.

Now I think it is good and right to be a part of a local community, and ideally I think we should be. But if someone is put in the place where they decide that they need to leave the church that does not necessarily mean they are lazy, petty, spiritually rebellious people as is often implied. Sometimes, no - many times when you really look at the state of the church - it is the people, and leaders, and watered down mall atmosphere, and lack of love, and shallowness, and divisiveness of too many a local church that is at fault.

I personally love my church community, and love my former community as well. But, I've had my share of frustrations with them, and I don't feel it is my job as a Christian to suck it up and obey my leaders. I'm not Catholic and you are not the pope so no matter how many times you quote Hebrews 13:7 (a favorite in this debate) I am not obligated to accept whatever you say as a command from God.

If it comes down to it, I will choose to betray the church if that is the only way to be loyal to the Church.

Another Jesus

"For if someone comes and proclaims another Jesus than the one we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit from the one you received, or a different gospel from the one you accepted, you submit to it readily enough" - II Corinthians 11:4

How often do we teach, follow, and pray to a 'different Jesus'?

The early Church dealt often with the question of how to speak of Jesus the Messiah, and what to believe about him. As a result there were centuries of writings, councils, and sermons which refined the orthodox understanding of Jesus.

Nicea and Chalcedon (among others) provide a witness to the New Testament teaching that Jesus is fully God and fully Man, that he was born, died on a cross, and was resurrected, and that one day he will return.

Yet... is it possible to confess the creeds, to teach an orthodox Jesus, and at the same time be teaching a 'different Jesus'?

Perhaps because of the creeds, and the countless theologians since, it is all to easy for us to assume that so long as you teach a Jesus who is A, B, and C that you are teaching about the true Jesus?

Perhaps there is more to a true picture of Jesus than that?

If we teach a Jesus who is fully God and fully man, but who doesn't lead us to care for the poor and the oppressed is that the Jesus of the Gospels?

If we teach a Jesus who will return to us, but who does not care all that much about what happens to the rest of creation, is that the Jesus who John sees in Revelation?

If we teach a Jesus who died on the cross and was resurrected, but who does not also bring a new life and new creation crashing into the current one that is defined by a radical love and forgiveness, is that the Jesus Paul proclaims?

We do well to take the historic articulations of who Jesus is to heart, for he truly is God and man, and all the rest that is affirmed by the creeds. We can not however leave it there and assume that if we stay in those boundaries we are teaching the true Jesus. Too often we are doing no such thing.

Broadway is Dark Tonight

It has been a long time since I've posted.

Part of that is because I spent last week in NYC, which was a great trip. Stayed in a hostel, saw pretty much all of Manhattan, and walked about three marathons worth in distance.

Mostly though I find it impossible to post if it doesn't feel right, if my heart isn't in it, if it feels like work.

Since this blog is about theology (and related issues) most of my inspiration comes from books I read, conversations I have, speakers I hear, and blogs I read.

Well I'm reading as insatiably as ever, but not too much theology.

I'm conversing with friends and hearing sermons, but the summer has seemed to lend itself to a bit less academic tenor to both.

I've kept up on a half dozen blogs, sort of, but haven't felt like getting involved, and haven't read comments on other blogs in weeks.

Without those inputs I have a much harder time writing. I'm ok with that though. See I've come to the point where looking back over my journey on here and in my own studies I think I became rather myopic.

Theology is fascinating and vitally important, but I think the study of theology lends itself more than most topics to an unhealthy lack of balance.

It's incredibly easy to let something good and interesting and necessary become so consuming that you miss out on much of what life is about, and ironically find less joy in your studies as well.

Theology, unlike many other pursuits, has the added complication of being perceived as a particularly 'good' thing. I mean how can it be bad to study God and his word more right? It's s easy to rationalize.

And no, the study isn't bad or wrong, it's incredibly important in fact, but so is balance.

So I'm reading, but I'm reading A Brave New World, Sense and Sensibility, Kafka, Harry Potter, and Fahrenheit 451. I'm just reading what sounds interesting, no regard to whether I'm keeping up with this or that issue, and it's quite freeing.

I'm conversing and listening to sermons and trying to grow in community and live it out, not just learn something for the sake of knowing.

I'm not advising putting your thoughts of God on a shelf, I'm saying we ought to be a lot more balanced (and this seems to be a particularly common issue with theologically minded people). I'm saying make your concept of growth and interest and even learning about God wider to include all aspects of life.

Everything is theological, but theology isn't everything.

Theological Masks

There are not all that many people with whom I'm, without exception, completely up front about my theology.

If I know you in 'real life' and your wondering if you're one of those people, well if you think you are then you're probably right.

With many friends though, and family members, and people in church's I've attended, and church leaders, and schoolmates etc, I tend to play things close to the vest. At least until I know how much is safe to reveal and until I can be confident in how this person will react.

It's usually nothing that would be shocking to anyone here, but what is controversial varies greatly depending on your context. Now, if I feel something potentially controversial needs to be said or confronted that's one thing, but bringing it on for no reason is something I've learned to avoid.

The interesting thing is that the closer I become to people who share a passion for theology, whether they're teachers or pastors or in some other role, the vast majority of them turn out to be doing the exact same thing.

Alone with a friend a pastor will admit their misgivings about their own church's eschatology, but in front of the congregation, or if asked by a church member, the automatic answer is to fit the 'orthodoxy' of that church/denomination/tradition.

Among other students a seminarian will discuss the synoptic problem, comfortably talking about Markan priority or how the Greek accounts of Jesus' words are not exactly what he would have said in Aramaic.

This discussion will probably end there though, she won't talk about it from a pulpit, or at a church leadership conference, or with most people she knows. It just doesn't come up, unless she is with other people with similar backgrounds or if she starts teaching New Testament at a university.

The Sunday school teacher thinks war is utterly against the way of Jesus and becomes discomforted by what he views as an idolatrous embrace of the state by his church, but his students and their parents never hear a word of it, at least not directly.

How deacons, and elders, and Sunday school teachers, and professors, and pastors feel it necessary to wear a mask?

And, as importantly, why do they see this as necessary?

Because they work in an atmosphere where certain things must be affirmed, certain shibboleths uttered, or suspicions will be raised?

Because they need the job and it's just not worth it?

Because they feel called to that church or that school and the cognitive dissonance is a price they've chosen to pay to reach out to a community they care for?

Half a Gospel

It sometimes seems like we teach half a gospel.

Our gospel is that Jesus died on the cross for our sins.

Most of the time we leave it there, or add on something about faith and heaven and the forgiveness of sin.

But this is not the gospel. It's half the gospel, if that, and half a gospel is no gospel at all.

When Paul explains the gospel that was passed down to him from the earliest followers of the Messiah he says "Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures".

When he goes on here in the letter to Corinth or in his letter to Rome Paul makes two things clear.

The cross is the first half of a salvation event which climaxes in the resurrection.

The saving acts of God through the Messiah of Israel are about more than us and our personal separation from God.

Both those elements are sadly missing from most articulations of the Gospel.

Oh sure, we’ll affirm them. We’ll say the resurrection is vital and central, but when you listen closely the resurrection is vital to many because it ‘proves Jesus was God’.

Or that it is central and necessary because that way the followers of Jesus knew what he was attempting on the cross had worked (however they and we understand ‘worked’ in this context).

Neither of these reasons seem to have much to do with why Paul and the other NT authors speak of the resurrection.

Paul seems less concerned with the resurrection proving something about the cross and more concerned with the meaning it has on its own.

More concerned with how the resurrection proves the victory of God and the Messiahship of Jesus than his divinity.

The resurrection is the defeat of death, the reason for hope, the birth of a new reality.

In Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God, an event that was reserved for the last day has burst forth into the middle of history.

The life of the age to come, the restoration of humanity and the whole of the cosmos is made possible by the resurrection.

In the resurrection we see that pain, and separation, and poverty, and shame, and heartbreak, and social barriers, and disabilities, and oppression, and death are not the last word.

The cross has for good reason become the symbol of Christianity, and nothing I’m saying here is at all intended to diminish the vital saving mystery of the cross.

But on it’s own the cross is half the story, and on its own the cross is not the Gospel.

The cross and the resurrection, together, and seen for how the impact not just you and I but all of history and all creation, that is the Gospel.