Peter Krol | Knowable Word

Snapshots of Jesus in Every Old Testament Book

July 3, 2019 By Peter Krol

Garrett Kell writes of “The Most Epic Bible Study of All Time,” where Jesus explained to two disciples on the road to Emmaus all the things contained in the Scriptures concerning himself (Luke 24:27).

Kell walks through every Old Testament book, summarizing what Jesus may have had to say concerning himself in each one. He concludes:

Reading the Old Testament to find Jesus isn’t meant to be like playing “Where’s Waldo?”—looking behind every tree for a cross or every chair for a throne. We do, however, find both explicit teachings and also implicit themes that push us to know that something, or someone, greater must come to fulfill them. Jesus proved this true that day following his resurrection.

This is worth a few moments of your time. Check it out!

Did Jesus Walk Through Walls?

June 28, 2019 By Peter Krol

Jesus accused the Pharisees of holding to traditions which had been added to the Word of God. We may accuse those outside our tribe of doing the same today. But could there be extra-biblical traditions to which we hold steadfastly within our own circles? Oral traditions repeated often enough to now appear nearly self-evident?

I propose one such tradition is the notion that Jesus walked through a wall. If we can suspend our familiarity with the tradition and observe the text carefully, we’ll find the tradition far from evident.

The Text

We find the tradition’s source in John 20:19 and John 20:26:

On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’
Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’

Francis Mariani (2008), Creative Commons

Examples of the Tradition

D.A. Carson’s commentary on John’s gospel is a masterpiece, which I am happy to recommend. But no-one is perfect, and in his comments on these verses, Carson reflects the tradition:

But the function of the locked doors in John’s narrative, both here [v.19] and in v.26, is to stress the miraculous nature of Jesus’ appearance amongst his followers. As his resurrection body passed through the grave-clothes (v.6-8), so it passed through the locked doors and simply ‘materialized.’
Carson, The Gospel According to John, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991, p.646.

Carson simply asserts that Jesus’ body “passed through locked doors and simply ‘materialized'” as he did with the grave-clothes. So I turn to his comments on the grave-clothes for further textual evidence of the phenomenon:

The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. Clearly John perceives these details to be important, but their exact meaning is disputed. Some have thought that the burial cloth still retained the shape of Jesus’ head, and was separated from the strips of linen by a distance equivalent to the length of Jesus’ neck. Others have suggested that, owing to the mix of spices separating the layers, even the strips of linen retained the shape they had when Jesus’ body filled them out. Both of these suggestions say more than the text requires. What seems clearest is the contrast with the resurrection of Lazarus (11:44). Lazarus came from the tomb wearing his grave-clothes, the additional burial cloth still wrapped around his head. Jesus’ resurrection body apparently passed through his grave-clothes, spices and all, in much the same way that he later appeared in a locked room (vv. 19, 26). The description of the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head does not suggest that it still retained the shape of the corpse, but that it had been neatly rolled up and set to one side by the one who no longer had any use for it.
Carson, p.637

So we see Carson first exposing a few baseless traditions (that the grave cloths were shaped liked a hollow mummy) because they “say more than the text requires.” This standard for evaluating traditions is eminently reasonable. However, Carson goes on to link the grave-clothes with the entering of the locked room. And he says more himself than the text requires by suggesting that Jesus’ body must have “passed through” solid objects.

C.S. Lewis offers another way one can grasp the tradition of Jesus walking through walls. In his novel Perelandra, as well as in The Great Divorce, he grapples with the idea that heaven is in fact more real than earth. The heavenly grass pokes at the sensitive feet of spiritual tourists, and heavenly rain drops threaten to crush those who lack substance. Lewis challenges the standard tradition in that he wants us not to see Jesus’ resurrection body as less “real,” or more “ghostly” than ours. He wants us to see Jesus’ body as more real and ourselves as the ghosts.

Both Carson and Lewis have important points to make on this topic, but both require us to look more closely at the text: Did Jesus walk through those walls? Did his body pass through the grave-cloths?

Observe the Text

I’ll start with the grave-cloths:

[Simon Peter] saw the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself.
John 20:6b-7

John tells us that Peter saw the grave-cloths “lying there.” He does not say they were shaped like a hollow mummy. And he does not say they looked as though the body had Disapparated and the cloths had fallen flat without being unwrapped. He says they were “lying there,” but he says nothing about the condition in which they were lying (except for the face cloth being folded).

They could have been ripped off like one of The Incredible Hulk’s shredded garments. They could have been removed and tossed aside like dirty laundry. They could have been rolled or folded neatly. John says the face cloth was “folded up in a place by itself,” so with confidence we can declare that piece of cloth as folded. But the rest? John simply doesn’t tell us. He doesn’t say nearly enough to require us to conclude the body must have passed through the garments.

Now look again at the locked room:

On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’
Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’
john 20:19, 26

We know the doors were locked, with the disciples inside. We know the disciples were afraid of the Jews. We know that Jesus then stood among them within the room and spoke to them. But John doesn’t tell us how Jesus got from outside the room to inside the room.

Perhaps he walked through the walls. Perhaps. Or perhaps he knocked on the locked door until they heard his voice, opened up, and let him in. Or perhaps he spoke by the word of his power and made a section of the wall collapse. Or perhaps he found some others to open a hole in the roof and let him down on a pallet. Or perhaps he teleported from one location to another. I intend no irreverence whatsoever; I only wish to highlight that which we simply don’t know.

Please note: I am not saying that Jesus could not have walked through the walls or passed through the grave-cloths. He certainly could have. He is the Lord.

I am saying only that it is not self-evident, from John’s narrative, that he must have walked through walls. John is not nearly as clear about metaphysical post-resurrection ontology as we might wish him to be.

Conclusion

Why does it matter whether Jesus walked through a wall or not? What is at stake here?

Simply the fact that traditions snowball over time, with the end result of making void the Word of God (Mark 7:13). In this case, the tradition has led many to speculate on the physical properties of either the resurrection body or the new heavens and the new earth. This can lead many to make too sharp a division between the “natural” and the “spiritual”—and then we use those adjectives more like Plato than like Paul, which promotes unbiblical asceticism (Col 2:20-23), among other things.

May our thinking and our doctrine be increasingly rooted in vigilant observation of the God-inspired text, that we might be complete, equipped for every good work.

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Paul’s Personality and Writing Assistants

June 26, 2019 By Peter Krol

Talbot Davis makes a helpful point about the process of divine inspiration with respect to the letters of Paul:

Muslims contend that the Koran is straight dictation — all Allah, with no Mohammed filter at all.
The Christian conception of the bible is quite different. We
believe the God-breathed message of the Word gets delivered most
compellingly through the passions and personalities of the various
authors.
Because if God can take a curmudgeon like Paul and turn him
into a composer of inspired texts, imagine what he can do with you and
me.

Davis explains Paul’s use of a scribe, to whom he dictated his letters. Along the way, Davis shows us that this in no way undermines the doctrine of inspiration, but rather upholds it and makes it uniquely Christian.

Check it out!

Did Jesus’ Ministry Last 3 Years?

June 21, 2019 By Peter Krol

Protestants sometimes accuse Roman Catholics of holding to traditions not found in the Bible (e.g. Mary’s immaculate conception and perpetual virginity, etc.). But even Protestants must be careful with their judgment, as they will certainly be measured by the same measure with which they measure others (Matt 7:1-2). Certainly they don’t irrationally hold on to traditions unsupported by Scripture, do they?

We could explore a number of such traditions that Protestants ought to be willing to reconsider in light of the biblical data. In this post, I’ll tackle the typically unexamined maxim that Jesus’ ministry lasted for 3 years. A related assertion is that Jesus was 33 years old when he was crucified. Careful observation of the scriptural data will show us that these assertions could be true, but they are far from certain.

Reasons for the Tradition

If you research an article or book that examines the question, and doesn’t merely assert the 3-year timeframe, you’ll find the answer typically hinges on a few pieces of biblical evidence:

Luke says Jesus began his ministry at “about 30 years of age” (Luke 3:23).
John records three Passover events during Jesus’ ministry (John 2:13, 6:4, 11:55). That third Passover is drawn out also in John 12:1, 13:1, and John 19:14.

From this evidence, the conclusion is drawn: He began at age 30, he ministered for 3 years (through 3 annual Passover feasts), and therefore he died at age 33.

St. Paul’s Timeline, Heidi Blanton (2010), Creative Commons

Familiarity vs. Observation

But please don’t allow your familiarity with the tradition to blind you from careful observation of the text!

Luke clearly says that Jesus was “about” 30, not “exactly” 30. Perhaps Luke wants us to think of the beginning of Jesus’ ministry as analogous to the “coming of age” of priests (Num 4:1-3) and rulers (Gen 41:46, 2 Sam 5:4) at age 30. Or perhaps he has other reasons for rounding the number.
Though John records three Passover events, we have no proof that he intends his narrative to be literally chronological. Some scholars argue that the first Passover (chapter 2) was the same Passover as the one during which he was crucified, and that John bumps it early in his narrative to make a theological point. Others argue that the Passover of John 6:4 refers to same Passover of the year Jesus was crucified (and therefore, that John 6:4 and John 11:55 are referring to the same event).
But regardless of whether John tells us about three Passovers, two Passovers, or even one—he never says that these were the only Passovers Jesus attended during his ministry. To assert or assume these 3 Passover references mean Jesus’ ministry lasted 3 years is to argue from silence.

Conclusion

Now I hope this analysis doesn’t generate seismic repercussions in anyone’s faith. My guess is that most people reading this explanation are not shaken to their core by it. If your reaction is along the lines of, “Who cares whether Jesus’ ministry was 3 years, or 2 years, or even 6 years long?”—I would like to buy you a drink and bless you in the name of Christ.

So why do I care enough to point it out?

Because these things snowball across generations. It’s not difficult for an angel’s legitimate blessing of Mary (Luke 1:28) to evolve over time into sacred legends about her moral perfection, perpetual chastity, or extraordinary origin. In the same way, who knows when or how the mistakenly assumed “three-year ministry of Jesus” might evolve into a three-year master plan for discipleship, or a three-year sacred tradition for church planting, or a set of uncompromisable three-year expectations for how God must work to build his kingdom?

Most spurious traditions have their origin in something true and good. But we cannot add to that truth without, in the end, compromising the very truth we sought to uphold. For example, it is a good and right thing to love God more than your parents (Luke 14:26). But it’s an altogether wicked thing to add traditions to that truth which end up undermining the obligation to care for your aging forebears (Mark 7:9-13).

The Bible doesn’t tell us exactly how many years Jesus spent with his disciples, going about doing good and healing. So we ought not to casually assert a three-year timeline as though it were self-evident.

More on the Meaning of Vanity

June 19, 2019 By Peter Krol

Kevin Carson wrote a piece in response to my recent posts on Ecclesiastes, offering further explanation of the meaning of “vanity.” Carson believes the Preacher uses the term not so much to refer to the “unsatisfying, endless repetition of old things…” (as I defined in my second post), but to refer to the frustratingly enigmatic nature of life in a fallen world. That is, that though we try to understand why life happens the way it does, we simply can never know.

Carson is on to something here, and he does a great job exploring the argument of the entire book (while I was limiting myself in my post only to the explanation of vanity in chapter 1). Carson proposes his definition in stark contrast to mine, though I’m inclined to see us as exploring the topic from different angles. I focused on the day-to-day experience of vanity, while Carson gets at the ideological underpinnings of the concept.

His insights are well communicated and worth considering. Check it out!

Recommended Commentaries that Model Good Bible Study

June 14, 2019 By Peter Krol

A good commentary is like gasoline. If you possess a working engine, it will get you where you want to go. But if you’re prone to drinking it straight, you’re better off labeling it as poison.

Alin S (2013), Creative Commons

This is why I and others warn against common but dangerous mistakes when using commentaries. We urge you not to awaken or arouse your study Bibles until the time is right. We’re committed to helping you break the addiction. We’d like to see our generation less dependent on so many Bible curricula and discipleship materials. We’re delighted when others promote the same cause.

However, please don’t think I’m against commentaries. Sure, I occasionally use strong language, but it’s because I care about you. I blog to help you build a good Bible study engine, and I want to help you see the connection between your unquenchable thirst and your choice of beverage. Don’t drink the gasoline!

I devour commentaries. I read them for the same reason I attend Bible studies: I can’t do this by myself, and I need the Christian community to help me know God better. The right commentaries stimulate me, provoking a fanatical compulsion to investigate the text.

The wrong commentaries make me feel like my 6-year-old daughter, who, on a 3-mile bike ride around town, despaired at every uphill stretch. Before long, she was calling down imprecations on herself and all she held dear: “I wish I didn’t even have a bike!” Substitute “a bike” with “this volume,” and you’ve got my sense when I spend good money on something that offers little more than word histories, cross references, and catalogues of debates between older commentators.

An excellent commentary, who can find? She is far more precious than jewels. And many websites and book lists and blog series exist to help you pluck the gems from the sediment. But it’s still hard to find a good match without consistent criteria to help you decide.

So I’ve created a page on the resources section of this site, recommending commentaries that model good Bible study. By “good Bible study,” I mean the following:

observing the text carefully (not merely telling us what others have said about the text)
taking note of literary devices
making interpretive decisions primarily from the text and not merely by scholarly consensus
showing, not merely telling, their conclusions
spelling out the author’s train of thought (focusing more on logic and meaning than on words, etymology, or cross references)
focusing on the author’s main points (without getting distracted by every possible debate on isolated words or phrases)
showing a conviction that the text will change our lives, both individually and corporately

Not every commentary I recommend will do all 7 things well, but I’ll look for a preponderance of evidence. And I award bonus points when the gospel of Jesus Christ takes center stage.

Now, before you click the button, please promise me you won’t misuse the list. Commit yourself to studying the text yourself. After you have guessed at the author’s main point and attempted to apply it, your engine will be thirsty and ready for a refill. You’ll get far more out of these commentaries if you don’t rely on them to do the work for you.

Are you ready? Do you promise? Take me to the page!

Why the Bible is Difficult to Understand

June 12, 2019 By Peter Krol

Kevin Halloran lists 9 reasons the Bible is difficult to understand, along with what we can do about it. His reasons:

We live at a different time
We live in a different culture
We speak different languages
We have natural minds that struggle to understand spiritual truths
We are sinners
We don’t know how the Bible storyline fits together
We have weak reading skills
We are lazy
We don’t approach the Bible correctly

After explaining these five hurdles, Halloran continues with reasons to rejoice in the resources God has given us. And he offers suggestions for growing in handling the Word.

This is great, practical instruction, which I highly commend.

Check it out!

What Does “Meaningless / Vanity / Futility” Mean in Ecclesiastes?

June 6, 2019 By Peter Krol

Last week I summarized three remarkably divergent interpretive approaches to the book of Ecclesiastes. A few readers helpfully pointed out that the translation of the Hebrew word hebel in Eccl 1:2 (and throughout the book) can play a role in nudging readers toward one interpretive approach or another. This keen insight warrants further exploration.

Study the Word

Canvassing English translations produces three main options for translating hebel into English:

Vanity—ESV, LEB, NASB, NKJV, NRSV, KJV
Futility—CSB, NET
Meaningless—NIV, NLT

The Hebrew lexicon BDB suggests a primary translation of “vapour, breath,” with a figurative use of “vanity.”

And by looking up all uses of hebel in the Old Testament, we drum up the following variety of translations from the ESV alone (listed in order of frequency):

vanity
breath
idols
vain
worthless
false
nothing
empty
gained hastily
vapor

This is all well and good. But we quickly confront the limitations of a word study. These lists don’t help us to understand what the word means in Ecclesiastes. We won’t get at the message of the book by simply choosing our favorite option from the menu and running with it. We need more help.

Consider the Context

So we must look to the context for the clues we need. And there is good news! Ecclesiastes is written almost like a research paper, where the introduction introduces the problem and states the thesis.

Thesis (Eccl 1:2): “Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity.”
Problem (Eccl 1:3): “What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?

So the problem under consideration is: What do we have to gain from our toil under the sun? In other words, what do we get out of life? What will we have to show for it at the end? What reward will there be to make all the pain worth it?

And the answer to the problem is: All that we have to gain is vanity. This much is clear, but it still begs the question: What does “vanity” (hebel) mean?

So the Preacher unpacks his concept of hebel for us with a brilliant panoply of illustration (Eccl 1:3-18).

The universe consists of endless repetition – Eccl 1:4-7
That repetition is deeply unsatisfying – Eccl 1:8
Nothing you do is novel; all new things are merely discoveries of old things that have always been there – Eccl 1:9-10
Nothing will be remembered – Eccl 1:11
Nothing is permanent; there will be nothing at the end to show for the effort – Eccl 1:14 (also suggested in Eccl 1:4)
Nothing you do can fix it – Eccl 1:15

Point #5 gets expanded later in the book as “I must leave it” (Eccl 2:18), or “All go to one place” (Eccl 3:20), or “Just as he came, so shall he go” (Eccl 5:16), or more directly, “The living know that they will die” (Eccl 9:5).

So we can construct a definition for hebel (“vanity”), according to its use in Ecclesiastes, as follows: “Unsatisfying, endless repetition of old things that nobody will remember; nothing you do will last, and at the end you die. And you can’t fix it.”* This is hebel. This is what you have to gain from all the toil at which you toil under the sun.

Return to the Word

So what does this mean for the best translation of the Hebrew word hebel? I’m not qualified to render a judgment on whether “vanity” or “futility” or “meaningless” is the best option. I frankly don’t care which of those English words we use when discussing the book (which is why I used a few of them interchangeably in my summary post).

But I can say that any interpretation of the book that doesn’t frontline the “unsatisfying, endless repetition of old things…” is not using hebel the way the Preacher used hebel. For him, hebel is not really about nihilism, cynicism, or purposelessness. It’s about the tedium, transience, impermanence, and dissatisfaction God built into the universe.

*Though I heard this eloquent definition of Ecclesiastic hebel in a sermon by my dear friend Warren Wright, I am certain even this is not new (Eccl 1:10).

Approach Your Bible Desperately

June 5, 2019 By Peter Krol

Matt Smethurst wants you to “Approach Your Bible Desperately,” and I heartily concur.

Have you ever ruined your appetite for an epic dinner by snacking all day? You wish you could work up an appetite, but it’s too late. The steak is on the table, and you’re not hungry.

This is how we often treat God’s Word. Is it any wonder that nibbling long enough from the table of the world would leave us with little appetite left for God?¹ If we’re snacking on cheese puffs, we shouldn’t be surprised when we don’t have room for steak.

The charge:

Shortly before his death, after rehearsing God’s law one final time, Moses looks at the people of Israel and says, “These are not just idle words for you—they are your life” (Deut. 32:47). The stakes could not be higher.

Your soul will wither and die without your Bible. Approach it desperately.

Check it out!

Three Approaches to Ecclesiastes

May 31, 2019 By Peter Krol

In my observation, Ecclesiastes is second only to Revelation in the number of competing interpretive approaches available to readers of the book. It offers a great case study in how perception can drastically affect both interpretation and application. This fact ought to motivate us to be as meticulous as possible in observing the text within its context.

I’ve found interpreters of Ecclesiastes to fall into three general categories, though there are subtle distinctions of flavor even within each category.

Approach #1: The Cynic

This first approach seems to be most common in the academy, where scholars conclude that the text of Ecclesiastes, by and large, is neither orthodox nor commendable.

A conservative proponent of this approach is Tremper Longman, who sees Ecclesiastes as having two voices. The most air time is given to the Cynic, as most of the book is an extended quote of his cynicism (Eccl 1:12-12:9). The outer frame (Eccl 1:1-11, 12:9-14), however, refers to “the Preacher” in third person; therefore it was composed by someone else, who is evaluating the Preacher’s message. This outer frame is the only place in the book where we find an orthodox, praiseworthy message.

Other flavors of this approach suggest that the frame narrator is just as cynical as the Preacher is, and therefore the message of the “frame” is just as suspect as the rest of the book.

In short, this approach typically sees the book as entirely (or almost entirely) negative and not to be commended as godly. It is in the Bible primarily to help us understand the worldview of a thoughtful unbeliever. And the best way to apply the book is to reject the counsel found within the book.

Approach #2: The Hedonist

The second approach, which in my observation is most common among pastors, says the book of Ecclesiastes is to be commended and held up as a model for the wise life. Some proponents of this approach are Zack Eswine and Douglas Wilson.

Now the first approach often sees in Ecclesiastes a hedonism, albeit an ungodly hedonism: “Life is meaningless, so let’s just live it up while we can.” The hedonism of the second approach is a commendable, godly hedonism: “Life is meaningless in itself, but God miraculously blesses us with the ability to enjoy it anyway.”

In other words, Ecclesiastes presents both a dark side and a light side to life. The dark side is the vanity of life “under the sun” (which is all human existence); the light side is the supernatural gift of joy from God, despite the ubiquitous vanity. God has created a world with no meaning inherent within it; yet he also blesses his people with an irrational joy in the midst of that vanity.

In short, this approach typically sees the book as entirely (or almost entirely) positive and to be commended for imitation. It is in the Bible to help God’s people learn how to derive joy from the Lord even when the vanity of life may war against such joy. And the best way to apply the book is to recognize both the vanity of life on earth and the gift of joy from God.

Approach #3: The Apologist

The third approach, which in my observation is most common among evangelists and engagers of culture, says the book of Ecclesiastes is to be commended as a model of how to expose a false worldview and replace it with the truth. Some proponents of this approach are Sinclair Ferguson and Leland Ryken.

Some, such as Ryken, see in Ecclesiastes two competing voices, which alternate, almost in dialogue. There is the voice of the unbeliever, for whom life under the sun is meaningless and hopeless. And there is the voice of the believer, who expresses the joy of seeing the God who superintends everything from beyond the sun.

In this approach, the phrase “under the sun” tends to refer not to human existence universally (as in the Hedonist approach), but to the human existence of the unbeliever. Believers, therefore, can be freed from an “under the sun” perspective and have it replaced with an “eternal” perspective.

In short, this approach typically sees the book as roughly half true and half false. It is in the Bible to help God’s people relate to those whose only perception is “under the sun,” and to win such folks to a more truthful and satisfying outlook on life. The best way to apply the book is to help people grapple with the despair of materialism and naturalism, and to win them to a God’s-eye view of the heavens and the earth.

Conclusion

You can see that these three approaches produce markedly different results when it comes time to interpret a particular text within the book of Ecclesiastes. And with such divergent interpretation, application is bound to be light years apart.

For example, consider Eccl 10:19: “Bread is made for laughter, and wine gladdens life, and money answers everything.”

The Cynic might tell you that the only way to cope with reality is through food, pleasure, and financial gain. But God wants you to reject this outlook.
The Hedonist might tell you that bread, wine, and money may come and go, but, whether they come or go, only God’s children can receive the gift of enjoying such created commodities. So use them while you can, to the glory and enjoyment of God, and remain aware of how the world works.
The Apologist might tell you that the laughter, gladness, and success of food, alcohol, or money is fleeting. So let go of those things to find life in the unceasing satisfaction of trusting and obeying the only wise God.

Just picture the dramatic small group meeting, where all three approaches are represented in the discussion!

Charge

Now I charge you, as those approved by God to handle his word rightly: Don’t choose your approach according to which one feels best to you. And don’t simply stick with the approach you’ve traditionally heard in your circles.

Please allow this analysis to jolt you from your inertia, to expose the fault lines in your presumption, and to blast your familiarity—and thus free you to dive back into the text to observe it meticulously. Which approach (whether one of these three, or something else) does it seem the original author most likely intended when he wrote the book?

Disclaimer: While the Cynic may believe disclaimers to be a waste of time, the Hedonist is asking God for joy through the vanity, and the Apologist wishes to persuade me to drop the meager pleasure of affiliate relationships: I remain under obligation to tell you that Amazon links in this post will provide a fleeting satisfaction to this blog under the sun, if you have the courage to click them and make a purchase.

And thanks to my delightful colleague Andy Cimbala for the idea for this meaningless post.

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