Helping ordinary people learn to study the Bible
April 3 Devotional – Psalm 3April 3 Devotional – Psalm 3
Posted by Grace Fellowship Church of State College on Friday, April 3, 2020
Or watch video here.
Psalm 3: Is there salvation in God?
April 2 Devotional – Psalm 2April 2 Devotional – Psalm 2
Posted by Grace Fellowship Church of State College on Thursday, April 2, 2020
Or watch video here.
Psalm 2: Blessing on those who trust God’s King
After the governor of the commonwealth in which I reside issued a stay-at-home order for my county, I began a series of 10-minute daily devotionals in the Psalms for the people in my church. Each morning, those who are available log in to the web conference and hear me speak briefly about a psalm’s structure, train of thought, main point, connection to Christ, and application to the current situation. Then we pray together and go about our day.
I’ve greatly benefitted from this daily study of a psalm, so I’d like to share the fruit of it with you. Perhaps these videos will encourage you in whatever you’re facing through this unusual season. Maybe they’ll strengthen your faith in the Lord Jesus who wrote and spoke the Psalms. Maybe they’ll give you examples of how OIA Bible study methods can be quite straightforward and personal. I’ll begin posting them here daily, and we’ll see how far the Lord allows us to go into the book.
Last week, I wrote an overview of the Book of Psalms, which provides foundational information that I’ll frequently tap into as I explain each psalm. Now here is my devotional on Psalm 1.
April 1, 2020 Devotional – Psalm 1
April 1 Devotional – Psalm 1Posted by Grace Fellowship Church of State College on Wednesday, April 1, 2020
For reference:
Psalm 1—Blessing on those who delight in God’s law
Note: After the first few videos, my sound equipment and screen sharing software will improve.
While most book overviews are written with a view toward observation (summarizing or outlining what is said), I would like to present a series of overviews with a view toward interpretation (summarizing or outlining why it is said). I will walk through not simply the contents but the argument of each book. I will not cover every book, but only those I have spent enough time in to believe I have something to say.
This post brings us to the book of Psalms.
The Book of Psalms has a straightforward and obvious structure, which, until only the last few years, I had trained myself to completely ignore. But I have come to see how fundamental this structure is to the message of the book.
Many editions of the Bible identify the structure with the headings “Book One,” “Book Two,” and so forth, up to “Book Five.” These divisions are of ancient origin and ought to be taken seriously as we study the book.
Some Jewish rabbis believed this five-book division was meant to be parallel to the five books of Moses. In this way, they held up the Psalms as being nearly as important as the law of Moses. They saw this collection of poems painting a picture of the lives and community of the people in covenant with Yahweh.
This five-book structure is reinforced within the book itself by means of doxologies at the end of each book. These statements of praise burst out and punctuate the end of the book. Sometimes, they don’t even fit directly with the poems they follow. Just look at the last verses of the last psalms in each book.
Book 1 (Ps 41:13):
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting!
Amen and Amen.
Book 2 (Ps 72:18-19):
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
who alone does wondrous things.
Blessed be his glorious name forever;
may the whole earth be filled with his glory!
Amen and Amen!
Book 3 (Ps 89:52):
Blessed be the Lord forever!
Amen and Amen.
Book 4 (Ps 106:48):
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
from everlasting to everlasting!
And let all the people say, “Amen!”
Praise the Lord!
Book 5 draws out its ending beyond a brief doxology. Did you notice how the doxologies quoted above all focus on blessing Yahweh, the God of Israel? Psalm 145 appears to conclude the body of Book 5 by picking up on that idea of blessing the name of Yahweh as the theme of the entire poem. Notice how it begins (Ps 145:1-3) and ends (Ps 145:21) with this idea.
That poem therefore transitions into the five-poem conclusion (Psalms 146-150), where each of the psalms begin and end with a command to praise Yahweh: “Hallelujah!”—translated as “Praise the LORD!” (Ps 146:1, 10; 147:1, 20, etc.).
The Book of Psalms is the Old Testament book most quoted in the New Testament. Psalms are directly quoted (with a formula such as “it is written”) 68 times.
Of those 68 citations, only 14 occurrences refer to the life experiences of God’s people, putting the words of the songs and prayers of the Psalms on the lips of the people themselves. And of those 14 citations, 6 are found in Romans 3:10-18, where Paul stitches together a selection of quotations involving sinful body parts into a composite picture of sinful humanity under the judgment of God’s law. So at most, we could say that there are only 8 times when the New Testament quotes the Psalms the way we usually quote the Psalms: as songs or prayers of the people of God.
So, besides those 8 times when people are singing or praying the psalms directly, and the 6 times when they describe the sinful estate of humanity, we’re left with 54 times when the Psalms are quoted and directly applied to the person or work of Jesus Christ, acting as a representative of his Father in heaven.
Sometimes, the words of the Psalms are put right on the lips of Jesus Christ. An obvious example is found when Jesus hung on the cross and cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Ps 22:1). But there are numerous less-memorable examples as well (Heb 2:11-12 quoting Ps 22:22, Rom 15:8-9 quoting Ps 18:49).
Jesus himself puts a psalm in his own mouth when he describes what he will say on the day of judgment to those who think they had done mighty works in his name: “Depart from me, you workers of lawlessness” (Matt 7:23 alluding to Ps 6:8).
So as we read the Psalms, we must first of all see the Lord Jesus in every poem. Some of the poems are about him. Others pave the way for him. And many of these poems anticipate his own experiences. When we read “I” and “me” in the Psalms, we ought not to think first of ourselves as the “I.” More often than not, we ought to think of the Lord Jesus as the “I.” Yes, we can sing and pray these poems. But above all, the New Testament tells us that Jesus sings and prays these poems as he goes about the work his Father has appointed for him to do.
In writing this, I’m not setting up a dichotomy, as though we can’t or shouldn’t sing or pray the Psalms ourselves. Of course we should! I’m only saying that the reason we sing and pray the Psalms is not because they resonate with our experience. We sing and pray the Psalms because they resonate with Jesus’ experience. And we have been so closely united to Christ through faith, and by the power of God’s Holy Spirit, that we can’t help but share his experience. We suffer with him so we may be glorified with him (Rom 8:17). God has called us to be conformed to the image of his Son (Rom 8:29).
So we sing and pray the Psalms because our Lord Jesus sings and prays the Psalms. We who believe are in him.
Psalms 1 and 2 serve as an introduction to the book, pronouncing a blessing on all who delight in God’s word (Ps 1:1-2) and take refuge in God’s king (Ps 2:12). These twin themes—God’s word and God’s king—are the guiding principles of the rest of the poems in this book.
Book 1 takes place during the reign of David (almost every poem here is attributed to him). This collection shows the king facing tremendous opposition. This collection has proportionally more laments and requests for help than later books. And at the book’s center, we find twin reflections on—you guessed it—God’s word (Ps 19) and God’s king (Ps 20).
Book 2 begins to move past David, as the first set of poems are written by other poets (Psalms 42-50). These poems get us looking beyond David for a king who will unite all nations in worship of Yahweh. The collection concludes with a poem attributed to Solomon (Psalm 72), describing the earth-wide reign of a king to come who is greater than David.
Books 3 and 4 take place during the exile in Babylon. Many of these poems lament the desolation of the promised land and the sanctuary. In this collection, the people wrestle with the fact that their king is absent and appears to have been defeated. Book 3 ends with a direct appeal to God: Have you forgotten your promises to David (Psalm 89)?
Book 4 shows a renewed servant-king who leads the people to remember God’s perfect law, even while they’re still scattered abroad. This collection ends with lessons from Israel’s history (Psalm 106) and a desire to see God one day restore his people in their land (Ps 106:4-5).
Book 5 ends on a triumphant note. The once-rejected king has now risen up in victory to celebrate Yahweh’s enduring covenant love back in the land of promise (Ps 118, 136). This book was likely compiled after the people had returned from Babylon and had rejuvenated their festivals and sacrifices. As I mentioned earlier, this collection concludes the entire Book with commands to praise the Lord (“Hallelujah!”). The book’s last word is: “Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. Praise the Lord!” (Ps 150:6).
So the Book of Psalms is really the memoirs (written in advance) of God’s Messiah, the Chosen King of the Jews. His memoirs tell the story of the entire people of Israel. He lives out their story in his own life. And from where we stand, looking back, we no longer live, but Christ lives in us. We live our lives united to his. This is why the apostles looked so often to the Psalms when they wanted to explain the work of Jesus Christ. And this is why the Psalms are rightfully beloved by each generation of believers in Christ down to the present time.
For expansion on the ideas in this post, I recommend Psalms 1-41: Rejoice the Lord is King by James Johnston, the overview article on Psalms by James Hely Hutchinson in the NIV Proclamation Bible, and the Bible Project video on the Psalms. I am indebted to all three works in the shaping of my thinking for this post.
Amazon links are affiliate links, which means this blog will receive a small commission at no extra cost to you if you click them and make a purchase.
While most book overviews are written with a view toward observation (summarizing or outlining what is said), I would like to present a series of overviews with a view toward interpretation (summarizing or outlining why it is said). I will walk through not simply the contents but the argument of each book. I will not cover every book, but only those I have spent enough time in to believe I have something to say.
I come now to the book of Exodus.
I spent over a year on this blog studying my way through the complete book of Exodus. You can find the contents of that series on this page. In that series, you’ll find the material in this post expanded on and demonstrated from each portion of text.
The chief markers of literary division in Exodus are the shifts in genre and style. These markers are rather obvious, to the point that people sometimes examine only one of the book’s divisions. The trick is to figure out how things flow from one division to the next.
Chapters 1-18 consist of epic narratives, interrupted only by a brief genealogy in chapter 6 and a lengthy poem in chapter 15. Yet the setting and focus of the narratives after the poem are starkly different from the narratives before the poem. We ought to see the poem of chapter 15 as the resolution to the conflict of the book’s first division. This leaves the narratives of chapters 16-18 as either a new division, or a transition to the following division.
Though chapter 19 is also narrative, the setting—with the people finally at Mt. Sinai—clearly fits together with the law codes and covenant ceremony of chapters 20-24. Chapters 25-40 consist of tabernacle details (first instruction, then construction), divided by the narratives of covenant rending and repair in chapters 32-34.
Therefore, the book has three main divisions: Narratives of rescue (Ex 1-15), narratives of preparation (Ex 16-18), and discourses on law, covenant, and tabernacle (Ex 19-40).
The book’s introduction (Ex 1) sets the stage for the blessed children of Israel enjoying the blessings of covenant with their God expressed through their fruitful multiplying. Enter a new king who forgets Joseph and feels threatened by Israel’s multiplication. He attempts to quash the power of God in three phases: burdening Israel’s labor (Ex 1:11-14), murdering their sons (Ex 1:15-21), and drowning their sons (Ex 1:22).
Yahweh, of course, remembers his covenant (even if the king forgets Joseph), and he must do something about the situation. His solution has two aspects: raising up a mediator (Ex 2:1-7:7), and executing judgment (Ex 7:8-15:21).
Exodus 2:1-7:7 show us the appointment and training of the mediator. This mediator launches a campaign of deliverance, but the people reject him; so he turns from them (Ex 2). Yahweh calls him back (Ex 3:1-4:17) and makes him like his brothers in every way (Ex 4:18-31). Things must then get even worse (Ex 5:1-21) so the people can see that what they need is not only a political mediator but a faithful and merciful high priest (Ex 5:22-7:7).
With all these things in place, rescue can proceed and be shown to be all of God. His glory must fill the earth. And Yahweh’s rescue results when he returns the king of Egypt’s tactics from chapter 1 back on his own head. Yahweh burden’s Egypt’s labor (Ex 7:8-10:29). He kills their sons (Ex 11:1-13:16). He drowns their sons (Ex 13:17-14:31).
The demolishing of the house of slavery warrants reflection in song (Ex 15:1-21). There is no other god who can so cast down his enemies and lift up his covenant people. This God is a God who judges and rescues.
Everything shifts beginning with Ex 15:22, as Egypt is no longer in the picture. It is not enough for Yahweh to demolish the house of slavery. He must also prepare to rebuild his people.
Therefore, the Lord uses a sequence of events to expose how much his people need his instruction. They cannot simply be freedmen; they must submit to a benevolent Master.
The Lord gives instructions, in the face of the people’s physical needs, to expose how distrustful and disobedient they are—and therefore undeserving of his fatherly care (Ex 15:22-17:7). He wants their highest and most public loyalty to be to him alone (Ex 17:8-16). And he sends messengers to help them constantly remember their deliverance and to look to his instruction alone for new life (Ex 18:1-27). This God is a God worth trusting and obeying.
The final, and longest, part of the book alternates two themes in four sections: covenant, tabernacle, covenant, tabernacle. Through such alternation, we see Yahweh finally building his true house—the community of his covenant people.
First, the covenant is made (Ex 19-24). God wants to make something special out of an undeserving people (Ex 19). So he establishes a treaty, inspiring them to fear, so they might draw near to him (Ex 20). He then architects a social paradise that will stand out among the world’s nations (Ex 21-23), and he draws these people close through the blood of a substitute (Ex 24).
Second, the tabernacle instruction (Ex 25-31). Yahweh re-creates heaven on earth, packing up the holy mountain for transport through pictures embedded in furniture (Ex 25:1-27:19), priesthood (Ex 27:20-30:38), and sabbath rest (Ex 31). Seven speeches, climaxing in spirit-filled humans and sabbath rest. New Creation.
Third, the covenant is rent and repaired (Ex 32-34). The main thing at stake here is whether it will ever work out for heaven to come to earth, for God to dwell with men and remain with them (Ex 32). Sinners will always need not only forgiveness of their sins but also reconciliation to their God (Ex 33). And the glory of Yahweh’s covenant cohabitation is even more glorious after the fall than it was before (Ex 34:1-28). But how long will it really last (Ex 34:29-35)?
Fourth, back to tabernacle construction (Ex 35-40). The new covenant people, redeemed and reconciled after terrible ruin, are staggeringly empowered for outrageous obedience to their God (Ex 35-39). And when Yahweh finally moves in with them, we know it’s the real deal (Ex 40). But it’s not yet the end. Something is still lacking…
This God is a God who builds his own house in and with his people.
Pharaoh’s question to Moses is a perfect statement of the purpose of Exodus: “Who is Yahweh, that I should obey his voice?” (Ex 5:2). The very design of the book is to answer that question by showing us exactly who Yahweh is and why we ought to obey him. He is the one who demolishes the house of slavery, who prepares his people to rebuild, and who builds his own house in the midst of his people. The glory of redemption is greater than that of pre-Fall creation. This is why the Messiah must suffer and rise from the dead (Luke 24:26-27).
Instead of having three or four disparate divisions—independent of one another and to be studied apart from one another—the book of Exodus has a coherent message from beginning to end.
For more interpretive walkthroughs of books of the Bible, click here.
This post begins a series of Bible book overviews. While most book overviews are written with a view toward observation (summarizing or outlining what is said), I write this series with a view toward interpretation (summarizing or outlining why it is said). I will walk through not simply the contents but the argument of each book. I will not cover every book, but only those I have spent enough time in to believe I have something to say.
Many have observed that the narrator of Genesis organizes his material by citing his sources (“These are the generations of” or “This is the account of,” depending on the translation). He makes eleven such statements, though most agree that the two resulting sections of chapter 36 are so similar as to belong together. The eleven statements are in Genesis 2:4, 5:1, 6:9, 10:1, 11:9, 11:27, 25:12, 25:19, 36:1, 36:9, and 37:2. Combining the two sections of chapter 36 results in 10 literary subsections.
In addition almost every commentator wants to divide the book into two major divisions: Genesis 1:1-11:26 and Genesis 11:27-50:26. (Though for shorthand, we typically call the divisions Gen 1-11 and Gen 12-50.) Combining this insight with the one in the previous paragraph shows us that Part 1 and Part 2 each have 5 sections.
Such literary observation matters, because our interpretation must be rooted in careful observation. And it yields important insights into the argument.
For example, everyone tends to understand that Part 2 of Genesis (chapters 12-50) zeroes in on a single family, a relatively small cast of characters. And following the literary divisions, we see which characters are given greatest prominence.
By tracing that literary focus of each section, we see that there is one character who, despite having tremendous theological importance, has far less literary importance to the flow of the book. That figure is Isaac.
Since the first “generations” statement occurs in Gen 2:4, we see that Gen 1:1-2:3 serves primarily as an introduction to the whole book. In that introduction, God’s creative work establishes a pattern for human dominion of the earth. This pattern communicates that humanity realizes its potential when it illuminates, shapes, and fills the earth in God’s name.1
In the rest of Part 1, we see two cycles of human failure to realize this potential.
In the first cycle, Adam fails to adequately illuminate his wife regarding the instructions of God in the garden (Gen 2-3). He does not trust God’s word, but seeks to elevate himself to God’s position without submitting to God’s authority. Then Cain fails to shape the outer regions by putting things in the right categories (Gen 4). True/false, righteous/wicked, acceptable/repulsive, and life/death all get reversed as he wrestles with his brother out of jealousy and loses. Then the sons of God fail to fill the earth the way God intended, instead parodying the mandate by filling the earth with their own progeny of selfishness and impure or unnatural intermarriage (Gen 6:1-8).
This leads to a cosmic reboot. God judges humanity through a great flood (Gen 7), and he recreates the earth through a sequence of events parallel to the initial creation in chapter 1 (Gen 8). This results in a new mandate given to a new Man, working the ground in a more glorious garden—now a vineyard (Gen 9).
This launches the second cycle of failures. Instead of illuminating the world with God’s word, Ham seeks to seize control through his own vile plans and rebellion against authority (Gen 9:22-27). Instead of shaping the world in God’s name and for God’s glory, Nimrod becomes a mighty hunter (of men?) and shapes the world into his own kingdoms, for his own glory (Gen 10:8-12). Instead of filling the earth with more submissive worshipers, the sons of Joktan ideologically intermarry with Nimrod and try to fill the earth with the glory of their own name (Gen 10:25-30, 11:1-4).
This leads to a second cosmic reboot. God judges humanity by confusing their language, scattering them over the face of the earth, leaving their work unfinished, and refusing to even put their names into the narration of their judgment (Gen 11:5-9). Joktan ends up being cut out of the genealogy of God’s people, and his brother Peleg takes his place (Gen 11:16-19).
So chapter 1 prepares us to expect patterns and cycles. And the cycles reinforce both the priority of humanty’s creation mandate and their failure to live it out.
We ought to ask how Part 2 will further advance these themes.
As noted above, Part 2 of Genesis consists primarily of three epic stories: the tales of Abraham, Jacob, and Joseph. In between, we have brief interludes showing the multiplication of the non-chosen seed, the unappointed brothers (first Ishmael, then Esau).
Abraham’s epic (Gen 11:27-25:11) shows us, though not without flaw, a man who trusts God’s word and submits to his authority. Abram “believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness” (Gen 15:6). Though not without flaw, Abraham is the positive foil (contrast) to the failures of Adam and Ham. He generally shows us what it looks like to love God with all our heart.
Jacob’s epic (Gen 25:19-35:29) shows us, though not without flaw, a man who wrestles with brothers and extended family, yet without resorting to insane jealousy or murder. Though Jacob typically gets significant negative press in recent generations, we must recognize God’s own assessment of him: “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed” (Gen 32:28). He generally shows us, in contrast to Cain and Nimrod, what it looks like to wrestle our way through situations where the people around us are doing the wrong thing.
Joseph’s epic (Gen 37:2-50:26) shows us, by and large, a man who is thrust out into the world but remains unstained by it. He refuses to adopt the godless practices and hopelessness of the world around him, and he will not join the wicked in their attempts at self-glorifying world-domination. In the process, God blesses him with extraordinary influence, and a mighty reputation. He is the positive contrast to the sons of God and the sons of Joktan.
Genesis is a book of beginnings and new beginnings. The pattern of chapter 1 establishes an expectation of illuminating, shaping, and filling on the part of humanity, in submissive imitation of their Creator. But each time God starts over, his human creatures seem to find new ways of botching the affair.
That is, until the Lord makes a covenant with his chosen family. In his grace, he calls them to himself and empowers them to meet with (some) success.
The hope of Genesis is that the chosen people can, in fact, learn to honor him in the midst of a cruel world. They can love their God (illuminate), love their neighbors (shape), and make disciples of all nations (fill).
And each time they screw it up, it’s not the end of the story. God himself will find a way to make it possible for them to begin again. Then again (Gal 4:3-5). Then again (2 Cor 4:6-7).
1. For a defense of this main point, see the comprehensive study of Genesis 1:1-2:3 in my book Knowable Word.↩
After completing my annual speed-read of the Bible, I like to follow Joe Carter’s plan for how to change your mind. Carter’s plan is simply to select a book of the Bible, read it 20 times in a row, and then move on to another book and do the same. After following that plan for 3 years, I’ve covered 20 books of the Bible, alternating between shorter books and longer ones. This discipline has been the most effective practice I’ve ever followed to help me master these books.
And for most of 2020, I’ve decided to tackle the third-longest book of the Bible: Psalms. (I already covered the second-longest, Genesis, in 2017. The first-longest, Jeremiah, still glares at me threateningly from an undisclosed rendezvous in my future timeline.)
To help me grasp the book’s ebbs and flows, and to prevent too much sensation of swimming in molasses, I’ve decided to consume the book of Psalms according to its five subdivisions, called “books.” Most Bibles will put headings over those five books: Psalms 1-41, 42-73, 74-89, 90-106, and 107-150.
So for now, I’m reading only Psalms 1-41 repeatedly (about to finish my 11th repetition). After 20 times there, I’ll move on to Book II, and so on.
I’m creating a spreadsheet to help me analyze the psalms and the book’s larger structure. You can find the fruit of my labors here. (I’ll also post it on the blog’s Resources page, so you can easily find it in the future.)
On the spreadsheet, I’m tracking every ascription and description given for a psalm. I’m also tracking every psalm that uses the term “psalm,” “choirmaster,” or “selah.”
But besides such trivia, I’m also tracking which psalms are acrostics (where each verse or stanza begins with a subsequent letter of the Hebrew alphabet), what sort of poem each psalm is, which NT verses directly quote from each psalm.
And above all, I’m recording what I believe to be the main point of each psalm. My purpose in doing this is not to erase or ignore the nature of the poetry, which is typically intended to be felt and pondered and not merely reduced to a logical proposition. My purpose is simply to recognize that each psalm is profitable for teaching, correcting, reproving, and/or training in righteousness (2 Tim 3:16). And when I’m feeling especially discouraged about a particular sin that doesn’t seem to go away—to give a practical example—I would like the spreadsheet to help me remember the psalm whose primary purpose is to ask God not to discipline me in anger as my sin deserves. (In case you’re wondering, it’s Psalm 38.)
The biggest lesson for me so far is that the Psalms are clearly arranged with intention. This is no random assortment of devotional poems. The five books of Psalms have been set in their order to communicate a number of overarching themes designed to infect the prayer and worship of God’s people. To give only one example of the purposeful arrangement, notice how Book I has four psalms with an acrostic structure (marked in column H of the spreadsheet). No other Book has an acrostic, until Book V, which also has exactly four. This can’t be a coincidence.
For a brief, yet brilliant, take on the book of Psalms see the Bible Project video below. While I differ with them on a few details, I find their broad insight into the book quite stimulating. These guys are the ones who set me down the path of seeing the intentionality behind the book’s arrangement.
With respect to Book I, I was intrigued by the proposal that Psalms 15-24 make up an extended chiasm (a structure where the second half is a mirror image in parallel to the first half). As I have dug into these psalms myself, I can’t help but wonder whether the chiasm extends out all the way to Psalms 3-35. I’ve color-coded the parallel pairs in the spreadsheet.
Many commentators, not only those at The Bible Project, agree that Psalms 1-2 provide an introduction to the entire book. This introductions establishes a blessing on those who 1) hold fast to God’s Word and 2) submit to God’s King. I find it unsurprising that the center of the Book I chiasm consists of Psalms 19 & 20, which have the same pair of themes.
Not all proposed pairings are self-evident. But many are uncanny. For example, in Psalm 4, David asks God to answer him when he calls (Psalm 4:1), and in Psalm 34, David praises God for hearing him when he called (Psalm 34:6).
This leads to another insight I’ve gleaned, which is that there is clear movement over the course of the book. Each psalm, and even subsets of verses of a psalm, could be read or prayed in isolation as an act of worship (here are two examples). But at the same time, there is a broad movement over the course of the book that is worth following.
For example, consider only Book I. After introducing the main themes of the book in Psalms 1-2 (blessing on the one who trusts God’s Word and God’s King), the editor presents 39 psalms connected—with only one exception—to David. And in these psalms, we see a high percentage of laments and requests for help from persecution (19 psalms). Intertwined throughout are occasional psalms of praise or blessing (13 psalms). But most of the “praise” psalms even focus on praise for the opportunity to request help when life is tough (Psalms 9-10, 18, 21, 30, 33, 34, 40).
The first praise psalm (Psalm 8) is about how God set a human to reign as king over creation against God’s enemies. And the last praise psalm (Psalm 40) gives thanks for past deliverance in order to request further deliverance in the future (Ps 40:13-17). The rejoicing over past deliverance flows right out of the requests in Psalms 36-39. And the request for future deliverance sets up the Book’s final psalm (Psalm 41), which is as much a confession of faith as a lament over poor circumstances. “Blessed is the one who considers the poor! In the day of trouble Yahweh delivers him” (Ps 41:1).
Putting it together, we see the following flow of thought through Book I:
This leaves us wondering whether Book II might suggest what is that “something more.”
Perhaps you’ve heard some of Jesus’ cryptic sayings, such as “Let the dead bury their own dead.” What are we to make of such a mysterious sentence? How shall we go about trying to puzzle it out?
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and we don’t just take a guess at the meaning on our own—we’ll find that the clues are right there in the passage waiting to be found.
The command comes in response to a man who considers following Jesus. The man asks to be allowed to go first and bury his father. Then Jesus speaks the words under consideration: “Leave the dead to bury their own dead.”
This brief scene occurs in both Matthew 8:21-22 and Luke 9:59-60. For the sake of this post, I’m looking at Luke’s version. Because Matthew may have a different use in mind for this scene, I might analyze his version in another post. For this season, however, my head has been in Luke. So I’ll camp there.
A number of options have been proposed for how to interpret this command.
Some describe an ancient Jewish practice of “second burial,” where a family would return to the tomb of a loved one a year after burial and rearrange the placement of the bones. They suggest that, because Jesus would presumably never contradict the 5th commandment to honor one’s parents (Ex 20:12), Jesus must be ordering the man to forgo this practice of second burial. “Leave the second-burial dead to bury their own first-burial dead.”
Others claim that the first “dead” in the verse refers to the spiritually dead. And a Christian ought to delegate the responsibility for burying their (physically) dead parents to those who are not Christians. “Leave the spiritually dead to bury their own physically dead.”
Still others suggest that the man’s father was not yet dead, and the potential disciple was merely making excuses not to follow Jesus. “Leave off the excuse of needing to care for the aging.”
Another idea is that the phrase means either that God must come first before all else, or that we must accept that what is done is done. “Bury your priorities and your past as though they were dead, and put me first.”
Still others propose that the command is not relevant to Christians today, but was only for the first apostles. Jesus’ call to them then was so strict as to preclude their responsibility to care for aging or dying parents. But his call on us today is not as strict. “Leave the dead apostles to leave the dead to bury their own dead.”
How are we to choose from among these options? Surely we won’t get the answer by closing our eyes and reflecting on the options until one of them feels right. There have got to be clues in the text itself.
In Luke’s account, we’re given three brief scenes with potential disciples, all in a row. The first (Luke 9:57-58) and third (Luke 9:61-62) both take initiative with Jesus and announce “I will follow you.” However, with the second potential disciple, the one we are considering, Jesus makes the first move: “Follow me” (Luke 9:59). This pattern sets up a simple three-part structure:
The first and third potential disciples are idealists. They’re quick to make promises about what they will do. The first is a broad idealist, offering to follow Jesus “wherever.” And the second one is a narrow idealist, offering to follow Jesus under one small condition (“let me first say farewell to those at my home”). But both remain idealists who need a dose of reality: We won’t have the greatest of accommodations (Luke 9:58), and we need to be singly focused on the kingdom (Luke 9:62).
But the structure of the paragraph points a flashing neon arrow at the second potential disciple. Being at the center of the concentric structure, we ought to expect the punchline to fall there.
And so it does. Not only is Jesus the one to take initiative, but he also closes the vignette with a clear call: “But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:60). So in some way, “burying the dead” is in tension with “proclaiming the kingdom of God.” If burying the dead will get in the way of proclaiming the kingdom, then leave the task to the dead.
In brief, then, the structure helps us to see the main point: Go and proclaim the kingdom. But it doesn’t yet help us to grasp the precise interpretation of the phrase “leave the dead to bury their own dead.” We need more help.
The train of thought in the larger passage may come to the rescue.
The paragraph before the one we’re examining (Luke 9:51-56) launches a major division in Luke’s gospel (see my post on how to navigate the middle of Luke). In that paragraph, James and John ask if Jesus wants them to call down fire on a village that didn’t receive him (Luke 9:53-54). Clearly he doesn’t, because he rebukes them and moves on to another village (Luke 9:55-56). So now is not a time for unflinching judgment.
The paragraphs after the one we’re examining (Luke 10:1-24) show Jesus appointing “seventy-two others” (so not including the Twelve) to go ahead of him (Luke 10:1) and proclaim the kingdom of God (Luke 10:9, 11). For this particular mission, they are to take no supplies and stop to greet no one (Luke 10:4). In other words, they are to leave possessions and ordinary politeness behind. This mission is far too urgent.
So the train of thought takes the following track:
I don’t think we have reason to believe that “leave the dead to bury their own dead” is intended by Luke as a code or metaphor for something else, as though we need to figure out who exactly the first “dead” are and who the second “dead” are. I also don’t see support from the context for even a precise definition for the saying.
Luke’s purpose here is not to tell us what to do with our dead. His purpose is to paint a picture of the urgency of proclaiming the kingdom of God. In particular, the urgency they had then of proclaiming Jesus’ approach toward Jerusalem to bring that kingdom (Luke 9:51, 53).
In painting this picture, Luke portrays a man who wants to bury his father. And Jesus wants the man to leave the situation alone for now so he can proclaim this urgent kingdom message instead. Somewhat like a modern father of a preschooler, late for a family gathering, telling his daughter to just leave her baby dolls to have their own tea party; we only need to get in the car! She would be missing the point if she began dissecting the question of whether dolls really have the ability to have their own tea parties without her.
So the weight of our interpretation ought to land on the proclamation of the kingdom instead of on deciding allowable burial practices.
Now, while the passage clearly has a particular setting (proclaiming Jesus’ imminent arrival in Jerusalem), I wouldn’t go as far as to say that this means the passage has no application to today (as with the last option on the list above). All Scripture is profitable for teaching and equipping. We can identify principles here for application, but we need to be careful not to read the instructions as though they had been delivered directly to us. There was something unique about Jesus’ journey toward Jerusalem, for which those 72 folks had a particular urgency. We likewise face an analogous urgency in our proclamation of the kingdom, but the instructions don’t always directly apply. For example, it may now be appropriate for missionaries to raise support (contra Luke 10:4; see Rom 15:24, Phil 4:15-18).
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
Of the four New Testament gospels, Luke’s is the lengthiest. And in my opinion, the longest section within the book (Luke 9:51-19:27) is the most challenging to get through. It can feel aimless and meandering, almost as though Luke indulges his personal wanderlust without a clear purpose or organization.
At least his second volume, the book of Acts, can be organized according to travel sequences. The gospel moves out in waves from Jerusalem, into Judea, then Samaria, and then to the ends of the earth. And “the ends of the earth” section is commonly subdivided into Paul’s first, second, and third missionary journeys, with a voyage to Rome appended to the end.
But in Luke, Jesus simply commits himself to going to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51), and then he finally goes up to Jerusalem (Luke 19:28). And nothing really happens plot-wise in the intervening 10 chapters. There is a lot of talking and meandering, with occasional reminders that Jesus is “on the way.” But very few narrative events take place. And they are the sort of events that don’t typically show up on a summary timeline of the life of Christ.
There’s a funny thing about these 10 chapters. In a sense, Luke could have gone without them. Luke more or less puts Jesus into a literary stasis, frozen in the act of traveling toward Jerusalem (with almost no named stops along the way). And Luke’s overall themes could function without this part of the book. In Luke 1:1-4:13, Luke presents Jesus as, himself, the salvation of God. In Luke 4:14-9:50, Jesus proclaims the coming salvation of God through himself. And in Luke 19:28 to the end, Jesus goes and accomplishes the salvation of God. Luke could have jumped right from Luke 9:51 to Luke 19:28 without the intervening material, and the book would still have made sense.
The “parenthetical” nature of Luke 9:51-19:27 is so stark that commentators even have a label for it. They tend to call this section of Luke “The Travelogue” or “The Travel Narrative.”
What further sense can we make of this literary stasis?
It appears that Luke divides this large section into four sub-sections.* His literary signal, to show the beginning of a new sub-section, is a reminder that the plot is still frozen and Jesus is still “on the way” to Jerusalem.
When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.
Luke 9:51
Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village.
Luke 10:38
He went on his way through towns and villages, teaching and journeying toward Jerusalem.
Luke 13:22
On the way to Jerusalem he was passing along between Samaria and Galilee.
Luke 17:11
In each case, Luke makes sure to remind us that Jesus is “on the way” to Jerusalem. And then, almost immediately, somebody asks Jesus a weighty question. And Luke spends the rest of the section showing us how Jesus answered the question.
So the pattern to mark each sub-section is as follows:
For example, in the first section (Luke 9:51-10:37), James and John ask Jesus if he wants them to call down fire from heaven on an unresponsive village (Luke 9:54). Jesus rebukes them, and then he calls another disciple to “go and proclaim the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:60). The rest of the section describes the plan for such proclamation.
In the second section (Luke 10:38-13:21), Martha asks Jesus whether he cares that her sister has left her to serve alone (Luke 10:40). She asks Jesus to tell Mary to help her with the work. Jesus tells Martha that he absolutely cares about what Mary has done, and that Mary has actually chosen the better portion—to sit at his feet and grow closer to him. The rest of the section describes the process for such growth in the lives of those who will sit at Jesus’ feet. We get instruction about such practical topics as the Holy Spirit, prayer, tradition, money management, and repentance.
At the start of the third section (Luke 13:22-17:10), a random person asks Jesus if those who are saved will be few (Luke 13:23). Jesus acknowledges that they will, in fact, be few. And very many will strive to enter the kingdom but will find themselves weeping outside. The rest of the section shows a great concern for how many will get in and how many will be left out.
At the start of the fourth section (Luke 17:11-19:27), the Pharisees ask Jesus when the kingdom of God will come (Luke 17:20). Jesus claims that it has already arrived, but they are simply unable to recognize it for what it is. The rest of the section then describes how to recognize the kingdom, how it is already upon us, and how most Jews of that generation are just about out of time to enter it.
In summary, this lengthy section of Luke, this literary stasis, could be called “The Life of Discipleship.” This large section describes life in the kingdom of God, the life of those who would be his disciples. Luke freezes the plot to draw out the implications of what he’s told us so far in the book. What is Jesus really after? How would he describe the results he expects from his salvation? When does he expect things to play out? And what sort of people does he want his followers to be?
This lengthy section concerns four main topics:
Now that you grasp this skeleton, perhaps you can make more sense of the meandering parables and dialogues found there. We find some of Jesus’ most famous parables here (e.g. good Samaritan, lost sheep, prodigal son, Pharisee and tax collector, rich fool, and rich man and Lazarus). Perhaps you’ll grasp these parables—and other familiar texts—more clearly when you consider them within the context of their sub-section.
* For these structural insights, I am indebted to William Taylor’s marvelous two-volume study guide on Luke in the Read Mark Learn series (Christian Focus, 2016 & 2018).
Amazon links are affiliate links; clicking them and making a purchase will help us to indulge our wanderlust through the Bible.
Perhaps you’ve heard that, as a believer in Christ Jesus, you must always be prepared to make a defense for the hope that is in you. And for good reason. 1 Peter 3:15 has inspired countless books on apologetics, as well as instruction on how to enter the moral and philosophical debates surrounding objections to the Christian faith. Is that what Peter had in mind?
Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of isolated instructions—we’ll find that some commands make even more sense in light of what came before.
We find the command in 1 Peter 3:15:
“…in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you…”
I often hear the verse quoted just like that, landing on the key phrases “always prepared to make a defense” and “a reason for the hope that is in you.” But we ought to notice that this is only part of a sentence.
The sentence begins with: “Have no fear of them, nor be troubled…” (1 Pet 3:14b). And the sentence ends with, “…yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame” (1 Pet 3:15b-16).
And look at the next sentence: “For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God’s will, than for doing evil” (1 Pet 3:17).
If you read my recent post on “the weaker vessel” in 1 Pet 3:7, I imagine many bells should be ringing for you. You can’t miss the connections to the larger context.
While I encourage you to read that full post, let me summarize Peter’s argument in this section of the letter (1 Pet 2:11-4:11).
Peter’s main idea in the whole section is that we must resist our natural desires to do evil, and choose to do good instead (1 Pet 2:11-12). A major reason for doing this is that we might win over, to the glorification of God, those who are currently doing the wrong thing by maligning us (1 Pet 2:12b).
Peter then particularizes the instruction to the power structures of society (1 Pet 2:13-17). Wherever you are in the hierarchy, you have an opportunity to influence others to join you in giving glory to God. Peter offers three examples:
In 1 Pet 3:8, the author now generalizes the instruction to “all of you.” He continues applying the same principles; he’s just no longer discussing specific power structures. We are to do good and not evil (1 Pet 3:9-11; 4:1). We do this, even when people hate us for it (1 Pet 3:13-14, 16-17; 4:4), so we might win them to the glory of God (1 Pet 3:9, 12, 16; 4:5-6, 8-11).
Let’s refocus on 1 Pet 3:14-16.
When Peter says “have no fear of them,” we ought to think about the command to fear God (1 Pet 2:17), and the command for servants to be subject to their masters “with all respect” (a commentary will inform you that “respect” and “fear” translate the same Greek word in this passage). We ought to think of the “respectful” conduct of godly wives (1 Pet 3:2) who don’t need to “fear” the intimidation or mistreatment they might receive from disobedient husbands. The fear in 1 Pet 3:14 is the fear of slander or persecution for doing what is right in God’s sight.
When Peter says to give “a reason for the hope that is in you,” this is in direct contrast to the instruction to the “weak” to win their husbands without a word (1 Pet 3:1). In other words, when you’re with those doing the wrong thing, don’t try to win them by nagging them. Win them by being the most respectful, pure, and gentle person in the room. When they ask why you’re doing that, then speak.
When Peter speaks of “the hope that is in you,” he’s reconnecting you to your spiritual ancestors, like Sarah, who “hoped in God” (1 Pet 3:5).
When Peter speaks of being “slandered,” and of “those who revile your good behavior,” he’s connecting right back to the example of Jesus (1 Pet 2:23) and the larger situation of dealing with those who “speak against you as evildoers” (1 Pet 2:12).
So what is Peter getting at in 1 Pet 3:15? Having already covered good and godly behavior within society’s hierarchy (1 Pet 2:13-3:7), he now carries over the same principles to all relationships. Whether you’re in the public square, or with extended family members, or around school-fellows or co-workers, the same principles apply.
Do what is right. Use your freedom as a child of God to serve God and not cover up the evil around you. Don’t nag people or present yourself as “holier-than-thou” or “too good for this crowd.”
Christians should be the most gentle, most respectful, most honoring people to be around. If you fear God and honor him in this way, it is inevitable that others will try to take advantage of it. They will attack you and call you all kinds of names. They will presume upon your motives and malign your intentions. Your gentleness and respect will make them feel so ashamed of themselves that they must take it out on you through ridicule, dismissal, or outright persecution.
When that happens, don’t fear. It shows that you are blessed by God. Don’t fear their intimidation or social media lynching. Continue honoring Christ the Lord, by reserving to him the most prized place in your heart.
And when a few courageous ones ask how you can put up with all of the scorn, you’ll be ready to explain it. You’ll be prepared to explain your hope in King Jesus, who similarly suffered, albeit only once, for sins, that he might bring us to God, having died in the flesh but now raised from the dead by the Spirit (1 Pet 3:18).
So what does this mean for apologetics—a more direct, initiated, and formal defense of the faith?
By all means, please do it. That is a fine application of this text, as long as you do it with gentleness and respect (1 Pet 3:15b). And please don’t live in such a way that you’ll end up undermining your own words (1 Pet 3:16).
But apologetics are not the only application here. Nor, most likely, even the primary application Peter had in mind. Not all Christians can succeed at philosophical argumentation. But all must succeed at living righteous and respectful lives, thereby generating opportunities to bear witness to the suffering and kingship of the Lord Jesus.
Context matters.
For more examples of why context matters, click here.
