Sample Bible Studies | Knowable Word

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.

Thanks for visiting Knowable Word! If you like this article, you might be interested in receiving regular updates from us. You can sign up for our email list (enter your address in the box on the upper right of this page), follow us on Facebook or Twitter, or subscribe to our RSS feed.

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.

What I Learned By Reading a Passage 25 Times

June 10, 2019 By Ryan Higginbottom

Sharon McCutcheon (2018), public domain

In my last article, I described my latest experiment. In preparing to lead my small group through Luke 16, I read the chapter as many times as possible.

In this article I’ll provide the results.

An Overview

There are three sections to Luke 16.

The Dishonest Manager (verses 1–13)

Jesus begins the chapter with a story of a rich man and a dishonest manager. The manager squandered the man’s possessions and was fired. On the way out, he had to give an account of his business transactions (Luke 16:2).

The manager called the man’s debtors and cut their bills. He aimed to gain favor with these debtors in hopes of securing his next employment.

The rich man praised the manager “because he had acted shrewdly” (Luke 16:8). Jesus extracted principles about money from this story (Luke 16:8–13).

The Pharisees (verses 13–18)

Pharisees were listening and scoffed at Jesus (Luke 16:13). Jesus rebuked the Pharisees as those who justified themselves and sought only what is praised by men (Luke 16:15).

Jesus then spoke about the relationship between the Law and the Prophets and the preaching of the gospel (Luke 16:16–18).

The Rich Man and Lazarus (verses 19–31)

The chapter concludes with the story of the rich man and Lazarus. The rich man lived lavishly while Lazarus suffered severely just outside the rich man’s gate. After death, the rich man cried out from Hades to Lazarus and Abraham in heaven for relief.

The rich man asked Abraham to send Lazarus to his family to warn them (Luke 16:28). Abraham told him that Moses and the Prophets were warning enough.

Themes in Luke 16

The major themes in Luke 16 become obvious when we pay attention to repetition: money and the law and the prophets.

The “rich man” is a character in two stories in this chapter. In between, after Jesus says “You cannot serve God and wealth,” the Pharisees are introduced as “lovers of money.” There is also instruction on wealth in Luke 16:8–12.

Earlier portions of Luke (Luke 6:1–11, Luke 11:37–54, Luke 14:1–6) show the Pharisees’ devotion to and distortion of the law and the prophets, so the Pharisees’ self-justification is likely related to the law. Jesus then talks about the preaching of the law and the preaching of the gospel, concluding that not even one stroke of a letter of the Law will fail (Luke 16:17). Abraham tells the rich man that the law (Moses) and the prophets should be enough to bring his family to repentance.

How Rereading Brought Clarity

It didn’t take long for me to identify the most confusing verse in this chapter.

And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous wealth, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal dwellings. (Luke 16:9)

By reading this chapter multiple times, I began to see the structure of the passage, and this helped me grasp the main point. (Most commentaries on Luke were not helpful, because they took the text in too-small portions. Despite good analysis of the trees, there was no analysis of the forest.)

When we consider the context of a passage, we usually look backward: an earlier passage sheds light on a later one. In this chapter the opposite is true.

In the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, Jesus shines a spotlight on the rich man’s money (Luke 16:19). The rich man ignored Lazarus, who needed just a bit of the rich man’s abundance. Further, since wealth often runs in families, the rich man’s concern for his brothers (Luke 16:28) was a concern for other rich men. The rich man’s wealth produced a numbness in him toward his neighbor (Lazarus). Wealth is dangerous, as it can also lead to an ignorance of Moses and the Prophets (Luke 16:29–31).

We need this story to understand verse 9. The dishonest manager was shrewd with his master’s wealth, hoping to be welcomed into the homes of others, and Jesus praises this shrewdness. But, lest we think too highly of this manager, Jesus criticizes him in verses 10–12.

In contrast to the dishonest manager, the “sons of light” (verse 8) are to do better things with their wealth. He used wealth for worldly gains; followers of Jesus are to use wealth for heavenly gains.

Here’s the key. Money kept the rich man (at the end of the chapter) out of the eternal dwellings (verse 9). Christians are to use money in such a way that we make friends who can receive us into the eternal dwellings. This points to generosity.

The middle section of the chapter brings all of this together. You cannot serve God and wealth. In particular, you cannot serve God if you are a lover of money. However, you can (in fact, you must) serve God with your wealth.¹

Main Point and Conclusion

The main point of this chapter can be stated succinctly.

You cannot serve God and wealth, but you can (and must) serve God with your wealth.

I don’t claim a perfect understanding of this passage, but I owe the understanding I have to reading this passage multiple times. This practice unlocked the chapter’s structure for me, giving me insight into a confusing verse. I commend this discipline to you.

This interpretation depends on the phrase “unrighteous wealth” referring to wealth on earth as opposed to treasures in heaven, not wealth gained in an evil way. This interpretation depends on Luke 16:11. ↩

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).

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.

Context Matters: He Who Began a Good Work in You

May 24, 2019 By Peter Krol

Perhaps you’ve heard that the one who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ (Phil 1:6). Perhaps this promise has encouraged you to press on in the Christian life, maturing and becoming more like Jesus day by day. And while this could certainly be part of Paul’s intended meaning in this verse, perhaps there is something more in the context we tend to miss.

Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of quotable quotes or personal promises—we’ll find that some of our most familiar sayings have more to say than we typically assume.

Personal Sanctification

The popular usage of this verse—to refer to an individual’s sanctification between now and the day of judgment—can certainly be supported from the context.

Paul follows up the promise in verse 6 with a defense of how he feels toward the Philippians (Phil 1:7). He then prays for their love to abound, with knowledge and all discernment (Phil 1:9). He wants them to approve what is excellent (Phil 1:10a). And he wants them to be pure and blameless for the day of Christ (Phil 1:10b), filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ (Phil 1:11).

So with the repetition of “day of (Jesus) Christ,” the explanation of his affection, and the clarification of each person’s purity and righteousness—the popular use of this verse to refer to individual sanctification fits. So much, so good.

Communal Partnership

But look at what else we find in the surrounding context.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you…because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now.”
Phil 1:3-5

The sentence immediately preceding the promise of verse 6 is Paul’s expression of prayerful thanks for the Philippians’ financial partnership in his gospel ministry. Paul will return to this thanksgiving in chapter 4. In fact, he likely asks them to stop giving, since he knows they can’t really afford it (“Not that I seek the gift itself…” Phil 4:17).

In short, we see that the letter of Philippians is, at its heart, a thank-you letter from a missionary to members of his support team. And in that light, it is altogether possible that when Paul wrote of the “good work,” begun “in you,” and “brought to completion at the day of Christ,” he was speaking of this gospel partnership. God’s good work among you, Philippians, includes this outrageous generosity, which has borne much fruit in Paul’s labors around the world.

And it will be brought to completion when the final harvest is reaped on the last day, when Jesus returns to judge. The gospel will go forth, and the good work of God will be completed when the redeemed have been gathered in.

We Don’t Have to Pick One

I don’t think we can or should nail down exactly one thing that Paul meant by the “good work.” He certainly has their financial partnership in mind. But then he also immediately moves into their personal sanctification (of which their financial partnership is but one expression).

So I’m not arguing that Phil 1:6 is not about personal sanctification. I only want to add that, when we see how their communal partnership is also in view, we see personal sanctification tangibly demonstrated in the community. In this way, Phil 1:6 is similar to 3 John 8, which describes financial support of missionaries in partnership language, and as an expression of walking in the truth (3 John 4).

Context matters.

Thanks to my colleague Dave Royes for the idea for this post.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

How to Understand the Context of the Proverbs

May 17, 2019 By Peter Krol

Context really matters. But it matters in different ways for different genres of literature. I showed last week how the poetry of the psalms sits within the context of the public and private worship of Israel. This week, I’d like to show how the poetry of the proverbs sits within the context of Israel’s wisdom tradition.

Try Memorizing Proverbs

I once tried to memorize portions of the book of Proverbs. It was smooth sailing, as long as I was working within the first 9 chapters. But it was agonizing to try memorizing sizable passages from chapters 10 or 11 (and following). The agony mainly derived from the lack of coherent thought from verse to verse!

Chapters 30 and 31 aren’t so bad, but chapters 10 to 29 of Proverbs contain such a jumble of topics that it can be difficult to study them or even read them. They were simply meant for slow, meditative digestion. Sometimes, there may be a coherent subject matter for a few successive verses (for example, laziness in Prov 26:13-16 or gossip in Prov 26:20-28). But most of the time, you never know what will come next. Ecclesiastes 9:17-11:6 works the same way, presenting an assortment of proverbs for reflection.

Now we can only conjecture why God decided to deliver this wisdom to humanity in this way. We can’t know for sure why this is, but I respect the theory I heard from a seminary professor: that real life works this way (constantly jumping from topic to topic, and task to task); therefore, the wisdom of Proverbs mirrors our experience of daily life.

Potential Misuse of the Proverbs

This lack of coherent argumentation creates a potential pitfall, into which hordes of aspiring gurus delight to hurl themselves: exploiting Proverbs for practical purposes. There are many books out there on how Proverbs can help you to run a business, optimize your life, or thrive as a family. Here is just one example. (To be clear: I’m not recommending this book. I just put an affiliate link there in case I can plunder someone’s drive for success, wealth, and happiness to help support this blog).

The problem is that we can then use the Proverbs to support our personal dreams or preferred lifestyle. So Prov 18:13 becomes a habit of a highly effective person. And Prov 29:18, KJV provides a strategic planning process.

The Context of the Proverbs

So what is the context for the proverbs? In what light ought we to interpret these sound bites and wise sayings?

Proverbs 9:1 tells us that “wisdom has built her house; she has hewn her seven pillars.” In light of the structure of the book as a whole, I believe this “house” refers to the first 9 chapters. I’ll simply assert the point now, as I’ve already dedicated more space elsewhere to defend it.

Solomon labors to lay a foundation in those first 9 chapters. He defines wisdom, he explains how to become wise, and he clears out the obstacles that will hinder wisdom. He spreads the feast of wisdom clearly and repeatedly within the dining hall of “the fear of the Lord.” He illustrates why there can be no wisdom apart from both a humble reception of God’s truth and a passionate imitation of God’s character.

So he builds that house. He constructs the pillars and the framework. Then he invites us to tuck into the feast laid out in the book’s remaining chapters.

Conclusion

The point is this: The context of every proverb (the sayings found in chapters 10-31) is the worldview constructed in Proverbs 1-9. If we attempt to apply a particular proverb to any part of life, and we don’t begin with the fear of the Lord and overcome the obstacles of easy money and easy sex, we are misusing that proverb. We are disregarding the context and working in opposition to the intentions of the Holy Spirit who inspired the proverb.

So we typically won’t access the context of a proverb by looking at the verses right before and after it. Instead, we must become familiar with the worldview constructed in the first 9 chapters of the book. Check out my series on Proverbs 1-9 for an analysis of this worldview.

How to Understand the Context of the Psalms

May 10, 2019 By Peter Krol

We’ve given a long list of examples to show how critical literary context is for interpreting Bible verses. Many of our favorite and most-quoted verses either find greater nuance or challenge our presumption when we read them in the context of the argument or story in which they reside.

But different kinds of literature work in different ways. And “context” does not always work in exactly the same way.

Take, for example, the Psalms. While each psalm is a self-contained poem that ought to be read in its own right—and not twisted to say whatever we want it to say—”context” in the psalms is more fluid than in other books of the Bible. The poetic/literary context may help us to avoid clear misinterpretation. But there is another equally important context for these poems: Israel’s life of worship and personal devotion. Similar to how we might quote a line of a favorite hymn without deep analysis of the statement’s context, we might find ourselves using Psalm verses in the same devotional manner.

For example, before I can quote or sing, “hither by Thy help I come,” must I first understand what an “Ebenezer” is (Come Thou Fount, verse 2)? For another example, I can find encouragement that “I once was lost but now am found” without having to explain in detail that this amazing grace is a sweet-sounding doctrine that saves wretches like me.

Why can I say this about the Psalms? Where does this idea come from?

From looking at how the Psalms were actually used in ancient Israel. If we look at Old Testament examples of people referencing the Psalms, they rarely quote an entire psalm. Instead, they mash together a pile of quotes from a variety of psalms. This mash of verses becomes a newly sung or prayed poem in its own right.

Example #1: Relocating the Ark

When King David moves the ark of the covenant back to Jerusalem and sets it inside his new tent, a celebration erupts, rife with harps, lyres, cymbals, trumpets, and singing (1 Chr 16:1-7). And the song they sing that day is recorded for us:

1 Chr 16:8-22 largely matches Psalm 105:1-15 (only the first third of the psalm).
1 Chr 16:23-33 has been modified from Psalm 96:1-13 (most of the psalm, but with a few lines omitted).
1 Chr 16:34 concludes with a common introductory refrain from many psalms (Ps 106:1, 107:1, 118:1, 118:29, 136:1 ).
1 Chr 16:35-36 presents a second, responsive song, consists of a modification of Ps 106:47-48.

So here, in a concrete example of Israel’s worship, we see selections from at least 3 psalms mashed together with a refrain found in four other psalms. They did not need to clarify, to take one example, the context of Psalm 105 or 106 (the ups and downs of Israel’s history) in order to sing the “praise verses” from those psalms as part of the medley.

Example #2: Praying in the Fish’s Belly

We have a more rapid-fire example of selecting an assortment of verses and mashing them together in Jonah 2. This example also shows us not the corporate worship of the assembled people, but the private worship of a man crying out to his God.

Jonah 2:2 = Ps 120:1, Lam 3:55-56
Jonah 2:3 = Ps 88:6-7, 42:7
Jonah 2:4 = Ps 31:22
Jonah 2:5 = Lam 3:54, Ps 69:1, 18:4-5
Jonah 2:6 = Ps 116:3, 9:13, 30:3
Jonah 2:7 = Ps 142:3, 143:5, 18:6, 88:2, 11:4
Jonah 2:8 = Ps 31:6
Jonah 2:9 = Ps 50:14, 26:7, 22:25, 116:14, 116:18, 3:8

Now you’ll notice that the lines from Jonah are not typically exact quotes of the related psalm verses. But it should be easy to see how those verses from many psalms have shaped Jonah’s prayer. He’s taken all the verses about watery judgment, earthen graves, and rising up to call upon the Lord, and he’s compiled them to make the prayers of many psalmists his own.

Conclusion

While we are never justified in using a psalm verse in a manner contrary to its meaning in the context and flow of the poem, it is clear that we can and should draw on verse selections, or compilations of verse selections, to inform both our corporate and personal worship. We do not violate the principle of “context” if we take a selection of verses with a common metaphor and combine them into a new poem.

Context Matters: I Never Knew You; Depart From Me

April 26, 2019 By Peter Krol

Perhaps you’ve heard that not everyone who calls Jesus “Lord” will enter the kingdom of heaven (Matt 7:21). And that Jesus will blindside such folks on the last day when he claims not to have known them, and he commands them to depart from him (Matt 7:23). Have you ever feared finding yourself among that number of woefully deluded souls?

Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of isolated quotes or arbitrary threats—we’ll find that some of our most familiar sayings have more nuance or qualification than we typically assume.

The Text

The warning Jesus issues near the end of his Sermon on the Mount is, in fact, rather sobering. Anyone unmoved by it ought to be the first to fear:

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’ ” (Matt 7:21-23)

It is clear that calling Jesus “Lord” is not enough, on its own, to gain a person entry into the kingdom of heaven. Neither is speaking prophesy, nor casting out demons, nor doing mighty works in the name of Jesus.

And these facts ought not surprise anyone who has read the Bible.

Balaam spoke true prophecy from the Lord (Num 23-24), but did not end well (Num 31:8, 16).
Saul had his demons cast out (1 Sam 16:23). Judas Iscariot, along with the other 11 disciples, was authorized to cast demons out (Mark 3:14-19).
Solomon did mighty works of wisdom (1 Kgs 3:16-28) and temple construction (1 Kgs 6:1, 7:51). Yet he did not stay the course (1 Kgs 11). (Though it’s possible that Ecclesiastes represents Solomon’s repentance in old age.) We could also cite Jonah, Joab, King Uzziah, Demas, and Judas Iscariot as examples of those who did “mighty works” but arguably may not have entered the kingdom of heaven.
Of course, Judas is our chief example of one who called Jesus “Lord” without membership in the kingdom.

So the warning is real, and particular examples can be given. But what does the warning mean, and who exactly should tremble at it?

Preceding Context

In the preceding paragraph, Jesus sets an expectation that his community, his kingdom on earth, will consist of a number of wolves dressed up like sheep. These are what he calls the “false prophets” (Matt 7:15).

Jesus says two times that “you will recognize them by their fruits” (Matt 7:16, 20). The nature of the fruit matches the nature of the tree. Good fruit comes from good trees. Grapes come from vines. Thorns come from thorn bushes. You can’t pick up a fig and conclude it came from a thistle.

And the trees that fail to bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire (Matt 7:19). This is exactly what John said when describing the coming judgment (Matt 3:10b).

So the argument goes like this: The new community of Jesus will have false prophets within it. You will recognize them by their fruits, which prove what sort of tree the person is. And the unfruitful tree will be burned.

This paragraph demands a “so what” question: So what kind of fruit signals that one presenting as a sheep is in fact a wolf? What exactly is the fruit of a false prophet?

A Preliminary Answer

Matt 7:21-23 begins to answer that question by explaining what we are not looking for. Jesus thereby flips the question around. Instead of defining the fruit of a false prophet, he first defines what is not the fruit of a true sheep:

Calling Jesus “Lord”
Speaking prophecy in Jesus’ name
Casting out demons in Jesus’ name
Doing mighty works in Jesus’ name

Such fruit does not guarantee that the apparent sheep is an actual sheep. There could still be a wolf lurking underneath the wool dressing gown. They are called “false prophets” for a reason!

A Fuller Answer in the Subsequent Context

So we look to the next (and final) paragraph of the Sermon to get the answer we’ve been looking for.

“Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock… And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand.” (Matt 7:24, 26)

Here is now something observable. Does the person not only hear Jesus’ words, but do them? This is the mark of a true sheep. Does the person only hear his words but not do them? This is the mark of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And the “doing” he refers to cannot be the “doing” of theatrical rituals, such as naming Jesus’ name, speaking prophecy, or casting out demons. The “doing” almost certainly refers back to everything Jesus has covered in this Sermon.

Being poor in spirit, meek, peacemaking, etc. (Matt 5:2-16). Honoring God’s law from the heart and not merely outwardly (Matt 5:17-48). Avoiding ostentation in the practice of piety (Matt 6:1-18). Seeking the kingdom instead of money and possessions (Matt 6:19-34). Living generously and graciously in community (Matt 7:1-12).

These are the folks, the true sheep, who “enter by the narrow gate,” which is hard but leads to life (Matt 7:13-14).

And they know how to recognize the “many” who try entering through the wide gate that leads to destruction. The fruit of the false prophets is the outward exercise of religion divorced from the personal and private transformation of the heart to love God and love his people.

Conclusion

If this warning from Jesus doesn’t cause you to tremble, you are most likely in danger from it. Please re-examine whether your religion is any deeper than outward conformity to a set of public practices. If your life doesn’t change when you hear this word of Christ, yours will be a pitiable case on the day of judgment.

But if your heart quails at the thought of ever missing your Lord Jesus and his kingdom, you’re probably already well on your way down that narrow road toward eternal life (Matt 5:3-6).

Context matters.

Thanks to Bonnie S for the idea for this post.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

Context Matters: The Prodigal Son

April 15, 2019 By Ryan Higginbottom

Hieu An Tran (2018), public domain

Perhaps you’re familiar with the story of the Prodigal Son. This parable has made it well into the cultural atmosphere. We hear the term “prodigal” whenever anything precious returns.

Within the church, this story is everywhere. It is held up as both a model of repentance and a reason for parents of wayward children to hope. Many sermons have been preached and many books have been written on this famous parable.

Are we reading this story properly in context? Is it really all about repentance after reaching the lowest point? When we learn to read the Bible for what it is, and not as a collection of morals and memorable phrases, we’ll find that some of our most cherished stories have a different or deeper meaning than we’ve assumed.

The Context of Luke 15

The story of the Prodigal Son is found in Luke 15:11–32. But it would border on Bible study malpractice not to read this story in the context of the entire chapter. We find stories of a lost sheep, a lost coin, and then the lost son. These parables seem to rush out of Jesus in one long breath, so we should consider them together. (In fact, Luke refers to the three stories as “this parable” (Luke 15:3).)

Additionally, we cannot miss the introduction Luke provides.

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable. (Luke 15:1–3)

Note that the parables are addressed to the Pharisees and scribes after they grumbled about the way Jesus welcomed tax collectors and sinners. They were offended Jesus would share his time and space with such people.

The Lost Sheep

In verses 4–7, Jesus tells the well-known story about the one sheep out of a hundred who was lost and then found. Notice the ending of the parable and its emphasis on rejoicing, made especially relevant by the audience Jesus was addressing.

And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.

The Lost Coin

In verses 8–11, Jesus tells the story of a woman who lost one of her ten silver coins. She seeks diligently, finds it, and throws a party.

And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

The Lost Son

Let’s note the way the third story picks up on the themes we’ve already mentioned.

The younger son left his father with his inheritance, squandered it, and reached the lowest of all possible low points for a Jewish person: feeding pigs (an unclean animal) and even longing to share their food (verse 16).

This son “came to himself,” planned his speech, and headed home. He was planning to take a place as a servant (verse 19), but his father would have none of that. The father “ran and embraced him and kissed him” while he was still a long way from the house. The son confessed his sin and admitted “[he is] no longer worthy to be called [his] son” (verse 21).

The father then shifted into party-planning mode. He called his returning child “my son,” and “they began to celebrate” (verse 24).

If we’re looking at the three parables of Luke 15 as a group, we’d expect the story to end here, in celebration. But we have eight verses and one major character remaining.

The Grumbling Son

The father’s older son bristled at the sound of the party for his prodigal brother. “He was angry” and refused to join the festivities (verse 28). The conversation between the older brother and the father that followed shows that the older brother is a spitting image for the Pharisees and scribes at the beginning of the chapter.

The older son emphasized his service and rule-keeping to his father, and he wondered why his father never allowed him a party (verse 29). The son couldn’t believe that his brother who wasted all of his inheritance money on sinful pursuits was worthy of the fattened calf (verse 30).

The central points of the chapter can be found in its final two verses.

And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’” (Luke 15:31–32)

The older brother didn’t grasp the freedom and joy of being with his father. And he didn’t grasp the heartache and loss of his brother’s departure or the significance of his return. As the NASB puts it, “we had to celebrate and rejoice” (verse 32).

We Must Rejoice

Though the first two stories in Luke 15 involve searching for something that is lost, that is not the main theme of this chapter. And though all three parables feature the restoration of what was lost, that’s not it either.

In telling this parable to the Pharisees, Jesus is shining a bright light on God’s delight and pleasure in welcoming sinners. There is joy in heaven, joy before the angels of God—a party worthy of rings and robes and fattened calves—when even one sinner repents.

And for those who do not share the Father’s joy in welcoming sinners? Well, their focus on the law instead of the Father should make them re-examine what it means to be a child in the first place.

Context matters.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

« Previous Page