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How to Navigate the Middle of Luke

February 21, 2020 By Peter Krol

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.

Literary Stasis

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?

Literary Divisions

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:

Luke reminds us that Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem.
Somebody asks a weighty question.
The following collection of scenes and dialogues answers the question.

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.

Summary

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:

How we must proclaim his kingdom (Luke 9:51-10:37)
How to grow as citizens of the kingdom (Luke 10:38-13:21)
Who is a true citizen, and who is not (Luke 13:22-17:10)
How to recognize that the kingdom has, in fact, come through Jesus (Luke 17:11-19:27)

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).

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Context Matters: Always Prepared to Make a Defense

February 14, 2020 By Peter Krol

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.

The Command

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.

The Argument

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:

Servants can win over harsh masters by doing the good of honoring them through lawful submission (1 Pet 2:18-25).
Wives can win over disobedient husbands by doing the good of honoring them through lawful submission (1 Pet 3:1-6).
Husbands can extend honor not only up the chain (to the emperor – 1 Pet 2:17) but also down the chain, toward their wives, the “weaker vessels.” Doing this enables them to win their wives, who are co-heirs of grace, to a lifelong partnership of prayer.

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).

Comparisons to Earlier Examples

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).

The Point

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).

Apologetic Conclusion

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.

Context Matters: The Weaker Vessel

January 31, 2020 By Peter Krol

Though it may be unpopular to say it out loud in public these days, the Bible commands husbands to show honor to their wives “as the weaker vessel” (1 Peter 3:7). The reason for this is dramatic (“since they are heirs with you of the grace of life”), and the cost of failure is steep (“so that your prayers may not be hindered”). So it behooves husbands to ensure they understand what is expected of them. And the context should help.

Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of isolated instructions—we’ll find that some of the commands have more to say than we may have realized.

Likewise

The first observation we ought to make regarding the command to husbands in 1 Peter 3:7 is the first word, “likewise.” We must ask a critical interpretive question: “Likewise to what?” That is, what is this command to husbands like? How is this command similar to that which came before?

So we back up in the text and examine the commands to wives in 1 Peter 3:1-6, regarding subjection to husbands, doing good, and not fearing. Because these instructions also begin with the word “likewise,” we must again ask “likewise to what?”

Backing up further, we have a paragraph filled with commands to servants (1 Peter 2:18-25) to be subject to masters and do good regardless of what suffering it may bring. The incentive for such subjection and good behavior is the example of Jesus Christ who himself bore our sins. But what provoked these instructions to servants?

Going back another paragraph, we find the broad command to “Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution” (1 Pet 2:13-17), and to silence those who call us evildoers by proving ourselves good-doers. But we should observe that this paragraph is not the first one to introduce these ideas either.

Moving back just one more paragraph, the author directly addresses his audience as “beloved” (1 Peter 2:11-12). And he urges them to act honorably and enable those who consider them evildoers to see their good deeds.

Pulling the Section Together

Looking ahead, we see the next use of the address, “beloved,” comes in 1 Peter 4:12. And the verses following the command to husbands (1 Peter 3:8-4:11) all continue the larger theme of doing good and not evil, with respect to how we treat one another. The rest of the letter’s body (1 Peter 4:12-5:11) shifts from exhorting people to do good to shaping their perspective when suffering for having done such good. All this data suggests that 1 Peter 2:11-4:11 is a unified section of the letter.

In the section under consideration (1 Peter 2:11-4:11), we can map the train of thought as follows:

1 Peter 2:11-12: Reject your natural passions to do evil. It is honorable to do good, for it shows the glory of God to those who might seek to accuse you of wrongdoing.
1 Peter 2:13-17: It is especially important to do the good of subjecting yourself to human authorities. Your good will silence the ignorance they demonstrate when they label your religion as evil. Use your freedom, not to cover up the evil coming at you, but to voluntarily serve God. This looks like honoring everyone, especially the emperor. Such honor will also play out in your love for other Christians and your fear of God.
1 Peter 2:18-25: Let’s get more specific. Servants, do the good of obeying masters, regardless of whether they themselves are good or evil. When you suffer for doing good, that is, by submitting even to harsh masters, you are following in the footsteps of Christ. Be mindful not to do anything sinful simply because your master commands it. But when you obey every command that doesn’t require you to sin, God will give you the grace to endure whatever treatment may result from it.
1 Peter 3:1-6: Another specific case: Wives, be subject to your husbands. The “likewise” assumes that such submission comes along with the same qualifications that were issued to servants: Don’t obey anything that would require you to sin. But by doing the good of submitting, you might even win over a husband who is not obeying the word. (Note: this hope is not only for women with unbelieving husbands, but for any woman whose husband—professing faith or not—is disobeying God’s word at any particular point in time.) Such submissive good-doing is what makes you both beautiful and precious in God’s sight.
1 Peter 3:7: Husbands are “likewise” to live with wives in an understanding way and show honor to them “as the weaker vessel.”
1 Peter 3:8-4:11: Though we could continue following the train of thought paragraph-by-paragraph, I will summarize the rest by simply observing that Peter now generalizes his larger instruction to “all of you” (1 Peter 3:8). After addressing three particular cases (servants, wives, and husbands), he generalizes the principle of good-doing to all Christian brothers and sisters toward one another.

The Argument in Summary

So 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. 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.

Peter then particularizes the instruction to the power structures of society. Wherever you are in the hierarchy, you have an opportunity to influence others to join you in giving glory to God:

Servants can win over harsh masters by doing the good of honoring them through lawful submission.
Wives can win over disobedient husbands by doing the good of honoring them through lawful submission.
Husbands can extend honor not only up the chain (to the emperor – 1 Pet 2:17) but also down the chain, toward their wives, the “weaker vessels.” Though wives are called to submit, husbands are called treat their wives as the co-heirs they are of the grace of life. To honor them as they would an emperor. Live with them in an understanding way, so they don’t have to fear either your strength or the consequences of their obedience to God.

Beloved brothers who profess faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, this means that if you are doing the good God requires of you toward your wife, she ought not find herself too often in a position of having to win you over without a word. Make it so she can submit to you with joy and not with fear, because she feels so deeply understood by you, even when you have to disagree with her.

The Cost of Failure

And what is the cost of failing to husband your sister, your bride in this way? Hindered prayers.

But what does that mean, in the context of the argument?

I believe Peter is saying that you will cease to function as true partners, co-heirs of the grace of life with your wife. You will stop praying together.

And this state of affairs does not glorify God. It goes against the overarching instruction (1 Peter 2:11-12), which has the purpose of winning people over, influencing them to glorify God with us.

You husband, can win your wife to the glory of God by understanding her. By showing her the same honor you would show an empress. By praying together with her.

Context matters.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

Can You Identify This Quote from the Bible?

January 17, 2020 By Peter Krol

In my current readthrough of the Bible, I recently came upon this gem of a poem. In my experience, it’s not quoted very often by Christians. But it’s rather encouraging and beautiful, isn’t it?

I’ll write more about this poem next week. For now, let’s test your Bible literacy.

To the first person who comments below with the name of the biblical figure associated with these words (the person who wrote or spoke them), I will give an extra entry into the drawing for a reader’s Bible. In addition, I will give another entry to the first person who can identify the reference for the poem (book and chapter). If one person guesses both correctly, he or she will be given two entries.

Here’s an extra two chances for you to win this.

Just one caveat: You may not look it up. I want to know if you can guess this from memory. Of course, you could look it up and comment anyway to get the reward. And I’ll never know, but God will.

I’ll confirm if someone gets one of the answers right. That will make it easier for others to guess the second answer correctly.

Here is the poem.

“Agree with God, and be at peace;
thereby good will come to you.
Receive instruction from his mouth,
and lay up his words in your heart.
If you return to the Almighty you will be built up;
if you remove injustice far from your tents,
if you lay gold in the dust,
and gold of Ophir among the stones of the torrent-bed,
then the Almighty will be your gold
and your precious silver.
For then you will delight yourself in the Almighty
and lift up your face to God.
You will make your prayer to him, and he will hear you,
and you will pay your vows.
You will decide on a matter, and it will be established for you,
and light will shine on your ways.
For when they are humbled you say, ‘It is because of pride’;
but he saves the lowly.
He delivers even the one who is not innocent,
who will be delivered through the cleanness of your hands.”

Context Matters: Abstain from All Appearance of Evil

January 3, 2020 By Peter Krol

Perhaps you’ve heard the injunction to avoid the appearance of evil. You won’t find the phrase in most modern English Bibles, as it’s a holdover from the King James translation of 1 Thessalonians 5:22. The ESV commands us to “abstain from every form of evil,” and the CSB simplifies it further to “stay away from every kind of evil” (1 Thess 5:22, CSB). This verse could be called upon to support just about any set of personal prohibitions, including interacting with someone of the opposite sex, dining at a tavern, choosing one’s friends, and forming political alliances, to name a few.

But is that what the Apostle Paul had in mind?

Context matters. If we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not as a collection of independently assembled proverbial sayings—we’ll discover that some of our most familiar passages don’t actually mean what we’ve always assumed.

A Study in Contrasts

When we read the verse in context, we ought to observe that it makes up the second half of a contrast:

“Hold on to what is good. Stay away from every kind of evil.”
1 Thess 5:21b-22

So the staying away from every kind of evil is a companion to the holding on to what is good. The “evil” in view here is the opposite to the “good” that is likewise in view. We are to “hold on to” the one and “stay away from” the other.

What further clues can we find to help us understand precisely what sort of “good” and “evil” Paul has in mind?

A More Foundational Contrast

Moving back just slightly farther, we find another contrast. This one is more concrete.

“Don’t stifle the Spirit. Don’t despise prophecies, but test all things.”
1 Thess 5:19-21a

This one is a little more complex, but still poses no problem for the astute observer. Here we have two things not to do: Don’t stifle the Spirit or despise prophecies. And one thing to do: Test all things.

We ought to see how “stifling the Spirit” is parallel to “despising prophecies.” So the spiritual stifling Paul has in mind is the despising of prophecies. And because the entire paragraph is about church life (1 Thess 5:12-22), it doesn’t seem likely that Paul is describing enscripturated (written) prophecies, but the verbal prophecies being made in the course of ancient Thessalonian church life.

And how does Paul want people to express their dependence on the Spirit? How can they show their regard for those verbal prophecies? Is it by shutting off their minds and swallowing wholesale whatever is spoken in the name of the Spirit?

No: “Test all things,” he commands. The church will express its dependence on the Spirit of God, and its high regard for prophecies, by testing them all. By examining them in light of the enscripturated Word. By evaluating their consistency with the rest of God’s revelation. By making distinctions between true and false prophets, true and false prophecies, things to be heeded and things to be discarded.

The Punch Line

And upon such evaluation of the prophecies made in the church, the people are commanded to “hold on to what is good” and “stay away from every kind of evil.”

So the contrast between “good” and “evil” follows directly from the “testing” of the prophecy. Not every prophecy is legitimate. Not every claim to speak on behalf of God’s Spirit is to be taken seriously. Each of them must be tested.

And those that prove to be “good” are to be held on to. Those that show themselves to be any “kind of evil” are to be stayed away from.

Conclusion

Paul’s command here is similar to Jesus’ instruction to “be on your guard against false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravaging wolves. You’ll recognize them by their fruit” (Matt 7:15-16a).

We’ve been given an objective set of criteria by which to distinguish between true and false prophecy. We ought to cling to the first while staying away from the second. Jesus and Paul are in harmony on this matter.

And “abstain from all appearance of evil” has very little to do with how other people perceive your behavior in any given situation. It has more to do with whom we listen to and whose instruction we choose to heed. Stay away from those prophets and prophecies who are not in line with that which is good, right, and true.

Context matters.

Thanks to Daniel Tomlinson for the idea for this post. Click here for more examples showing why context matters.

Why Was Baby Jesus Laid in a Manger?

December 13, 2019 By Peter Krol

“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

This time of year, the words roll right off the tongue. And every child’s first question is: What is a manger? When the teacher explains that it is a feeding trough for animals, the astute youth then wonders: Why was the baby laid there?

Now enters the ancient and hallowed tradition of Nativity speculation. Since we’re supposed to reflect on this narrative for a few weeks each year, we need some way to fill in the gaps left by the gospel narrators. And so we wax eloquent about Mary and Joseph’s poverty. Or the pathetic rejection they faced by the innkeeper. Or the influx of tourism to Bethlehem on account of the census. Or the astonishing degradation to which the Son of God submitted himself in setting aside, for a time, his heavenly glory in order to clothe himself in earthly humiliation—all to win a people for himself.

And every one of these speculations might be true. But in connecting such historical and theological dots, let’s please be careful not to neglect the main reason Luke gives for including this detail in his narrative.

Luke’s Purpose

If we read Luke like a book and not simply as a Christmas photo shoot, we’ll realize that we’re only in chapter 2. It was not all that long ago in the book that Luke made his purpose quite clear and explicit:

“…it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.” (Luke 1:3-4)

Luke writes an orderly account of the early Christian movement, so the Roman official Theophilus can be certain about the things he’s heard about it. This is Luke’s purpose: to provide enough evidence to enable Theophilus to be sure about what he’s heard.

But what is it that Theophilus has heard, of which he ought to be certain? The main point of Luke’s gospel is something along the lines of: “The hope of Israel, God’s plan of salvation for the world, has arrived in Jesus.” (You can find my case for this main point here.) It is on account of this hope that Paul is on trial (Acts 26:6-7), and the facts surrounding this hope ought to lead, Luke believes, to Paul’s exoneration before Caesar from the charges brought against him by the Jews (Acts 24:5-6).

So Luke wants his reader to be certain about this hope, with the aim of exonerating Paul from all charges.

The Manger

Now how does this overall purpose help us to understand why Mary laid Jesus in a manger? I confess it will not be all that helpful in understanding why this woman laid her baby in the manger (we’ll need to employ our venerable Nativity speculation to close that gap). But it will help us in every way to understand why Luke saw fit to tell us she had done so.

Just follow the manger through the passage:

The narrator declares: “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger” (Luke 2:7).
The angel proclaims: “And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12).
Finally, the narrator recounts: “And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger (Luke 2:16).

Do you see the flow of thought? Mary lays him there. The angel tells the shepherds they will know they have the right baby when they see him lying there. Then they go to see for themselves, and yes, they find him there, just as they had been told.

So can the shepherds be certain of the things they were taught? Can they be sure that this is the right child?

“And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.” (Luke 2:20)

Conclusion

Luke’s reason for mentioning the manger is that it provided for the shepherds corroboration of what the angel said. The detail of the manger serves a clear narrative and persuasive purpose to show the fact (the baby was laid there), the prediction (the angel said they’d find him there), and the testimony (they did in fact find him there, just as they were told).

So why was the baby Jesus laid in a manger? In Luke’s narrative world, it was so that Theophilus (and by extension, you and I) could be certain that these shepherds were eyewitnesses to the birth. They are among the many eyewitnesses from the beginning (Luke 1:2) whom Luke has researched and included in his account to promote certainty. And just as they could be certain, from the sign of the manger, that they had located the right baby, so also you and I can be certain of the same.

And what is it, precisely, of which they and we can be certain regarding him? What is the hope of which they can be certain?

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)

This child is the one. He is the one to rescue us (Savior). He is the Messiah, the Chosen One (Christ). He is Yahweh (the Lord) in the flesh.

This advent season, let us, too, “go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.” And may we, too, return, “glorifying and praising God for all [we have] heard and seen, as it [has] been told [us].”

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Context Matters: Peace on Earth

December 9, 2019 By Ryan Higginbottom

Perhaps you’ve heard that Jesus came to bring peace on earth, that the angels sang this very phrase when his birth was announced to the shepherds. You’ve got piles of cards (and maybe boxes of ornaments) bearing this phrase. And at this time of year, the words “peace on earth” invoke a warm, reflective mood, just right for hot cocoa and soft-focused photography.

But is this how we should read the divine birth announcement? Did Jesus really come to bring peace on earth?

We always need to pay attention to the context of our favorite verses and phrases. When we learn to read the Bible for what it is—and not just as a collection of slogans or choruses—we may find that it has a deeper or different meaning than we’ve assumed.

The Immediate Context

We begin with the immediate context of the phrase in question. In Luke 2, after the angels tell the shepherds about the birth of the Savior, we read this:

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:13–14)

The angels are not announcing a general, earth-blanketing peace. They announce and pray for peace “among those with whom he is pleased.” This is an important first qualification.

The Broader Context in Luke

There is certainly a need for peace at the beginning of Luke’s Gospel.

Luke deliberately calls attention to the political setting of his narrative in the first two chapters; he mentions King Herod (Luke 1:5), Caesar Augustus (Luke 2:1), and the Syrian governor Quirinius (Luke 2:2). Mary praises her God who has “brought down the mighty from their thrones” (Luke 1:52). During the Roman occupation of Jewish land, these markers and desires were pointed.

Additionally, many of the characters we encounter could use a healthy dose of peace. Mary is troubled by her angelic visitor (Luke 1:29) and so is Zechariah (Luke 1:12). Zechariah remembers the enemies of the Lord’s people when he prophesies over his son (Luke 1:71, 74), and he points forward to the work of the Messiah. At the end of the prophecy, we get a partial description of the peace about which the angels will sing.

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people in the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. (Luke 1:76–79)

Later, in the midst of a long string of teaching, Luke records a striking statement from Jesus about his purposes for coming.

I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled! I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished! Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth? No, I tell you, but rather division. (Luke 12:49–51)

Jesus goes on to speak primarily about divisions within a family, but it is clear that universal peace is not one of Jesus’s immediate objectives.

There is one last cry about peace in Luke, as Jesus is approaching Jerusalem for the last time.

As he was drawing near—already on the way down the Mount of Olives—the whole multitude of his disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” (Luke 19:37–38)

We can now tie off this thread of peace that runs in the background of Luke. The disciples hail Jesus as the king, and Luke captures their praise as an echo of the earlier angelic song. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!

The Peace that Jesus Came to Bring

Jesus came to bring peace. But his peace is not the world’s peace. It is not for everyone, and it is not immediate.

Peace often requires confrontation, sacrifice, and suffering, and this describes much of Jesus’s time on earth. He came primarily to bring us peace with God, and that required his obedient life, his brutal death, and his resurrection.

But the thing about peace with God is that it spreads. The angels announced peace on earth among God’s people because that is a fruit that the Spirit of Christ brings. The church now is to be a glimpse of what the world will be. It happens slowly and imperfectly, two steps forward and one step back. But it happens.

Jesus came to bring peace. That peace is not for everyone, and it does not arrive in fullness now. But it is real and life-giving and earth-rocking. It is worthy of a sky full of angels.

Context matters.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

Context Matters: For Everything There is a Season

December 6, 2019 By Peter Krol

Perhaps you’ve heard that there is a season for everything, and a time for every matter under heaven (Eccl 3:1-8). Perhaps this idea has inspired you to try new things, to make a change, or to find contentment in your situation. Maybe the idea even comes along with fond memories of the 60s—or at least affection for some of its iconic music. But what did the Preacher of Ecclesiastes wish to provoke with this glorious poem? And how ought we to read it in light of the book’s argument?

Context matters. When we learn to read the Bible properly—and not merely as a collection of quotable quotes or inspiring poems—we’ll find that some of our most familiar sayings are more provocative than we at first believed.

Let this song play in the background while you read the post.

The Quest

I refer you to another post where I explore the meaning of “vanity” in Ecclesiastes. To summarize:

The Preacher undertakes a quest to discover what we can possibly get out of life (Eccl 1:3).
The answer is that all we can get out of life is vanity (Eccl 1:2).
He then illustrates what exactly he means by “vanity” with a series of images and propositions (Eccl 1:4-18). By vanity he refers to the 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.
In short, all we have to gain from life is a puzzling frustration. We simply cannot figure out what God is up to in our daily lives.

This context drives the argument of the book. We should expect the Preacher to show us why life is so frustrating.

The Educational Paradigm

But the end of the book also provides relevant context to help us understand the poem of chapter 3. In chapter 12, we’re told not only about the Preacher’s conclusion, but also about his instructional methods. How has he gone about making his case?

Besides being wise, the Preacher also taught the people knowledge, weighing and studying and arranging many proverbs with great care. The Preacher sought to find words of delight, and uprightly he wrote words of truth. The words of the wise are like goads, and like nails firmly fixed are the collected sayings; they are given by one Shepherd. (Eccl 12:9-11)

So the Preacher took great care in both studying his material and arranging it. He sought words of delight, not words of doom and gloom. And he wrote words of truth. But observe how he seeks to employ that truth: as goads and as nails.

As goads, his words are meant to poke us. To stimulate us to action. To provoke us, bother us, and disturb us.

As nails, his words are meant to stabilize us. To affix us to God’s reality. To ground us, establish us, and root us in something solid.

So how does this affect the way we ought to read chapter 3? With this poem, the Preacher seeks to draw us in and delight us. He does that so he can nail truth into our minds and disturb and shock us into action. He doesn’t want to lull us into a sense of placid sentimentality. He seeks to inject us with 1.21 gigawatts of electrifying truth so we might be shaken up and moved toward greater delight.

The context of the book’s beginning and the context of the book’s ending should both shape our reading of the text. But there is another context we ought to consider as well.

The Theological Ecosystem

The Preacher does not write his book in a historical or theological vacuum. He names himself “Son of David” (Eccl 1:1), which puts him squarely in the context of God’s covenant with the King of Israel. In this context, he’s constantly alluding back to what God has done for his people, and he hangs on to the hope of what God will yet do for his people.

For example, as the Preacher describes his first particular test—that of seeking gain from pleasure—he cannot do this without evoking images from Genesis (Eccl 2:1-8). Building things, planting things (Eccl 2:4). Gardens, parks, and fruit trees (Eccl 2:5). Pools of water to irrigate the trees (Eccl 2:6). Even silver, gold, and sexual delight (Eccl 2:8). These things hearken back to Eden and the state of affairs before the fall of humanity into sin. The Preacher is trying to reinvent Eden that he might somehow rediscover paradise on earth.

Later, the book will speak regularly of the king, the house of God, wisdom and righteousness, the land and the holy place. The argument all throughout is neither abstract nor broadly philosophical. It is closely connected to the covenantal context of Israel in relationship with her God.

So in chapter 3, we’re not presuming too much to expect more of the same.

The Text

Arriving finally at the text of chapter 3, and keeping all this context in mind, what do we see?

We see (Eccl 3:1) a time for every matter under heaven. These concepts of timing and “under heaven” (i.e. on earth) are reminiscent of God’s work in creation in Genesis 1.

Then we see a glorious poem of 14 lines (Eccl 3:2-8). Each line has a pair of opposites or contrasts. Born/die, plant/pluck, kill/heal, break/build, etc.

But looking even more closely, we ought to see that the 14 lines come in 7 pairs of 2 lines. Born/die fit together with plant/pluck (saying the same thing with respect to the animal world and the plant world). Kill/heal fits with break/build, relating the natural world to the manufactured world. It’s not hard to see how weep/laugh and mourn/dance fit together. And so on, all the way to the final couplet of love/hate and war/peace.

So what we’ve really got is 7 couplets describing contrasting pairs of related activities in various spheres of earthly existence. The beauty of the poetry and its structure shows us that the Preacher has in mind all of earthly existence. He’s covered every base in a sevenfold manner, echoing the seven days of creation. Here is all of created existence in both its glory and its agony.

But what is his point? Why is he giving us a poetically comprehensive picture of all of created existence? What does he mean that “there is a season” or “there is a time” for every one of these activities?

Following the poem comes his commentary (Eccl 3:9-15). He makes an observation (to poke us) before delivering two pieces of knowledge (to nail us to reality).

Eccl 3:9-11: An observation (“I have seen”): God has made everything beautiful in its time, and eternity in our hearts, so that we cannot find what God has done. Don’t let the poem lull you into sentimentality. Let it provoke you to realize that you have no idea whether love or hate, killing or healing, building or breaking lie in store for you today, tomorrow, or the next day.
Eccl 3:12-13: Fact #1 (“I perceived”): Nothing is better than to be joyful and do good.
Eccl 3:14-15: Fact #2 (“I perceived”): God has done it this way so people would fear him.

Conclusion

So when you read the poem, or hear the song, be careful not to deceive yourself. Don’t treat it like a food coma after Thanksgiving dinner, with contented lethargy and sentimental complacency taking over. Instead, treat it like a wild bull or a bucking bronco. You don’t know which way it will kick at you next, so you’d better remain fully alert. Not only love, peace, and embracing are part of this life, but also war, hatred, and rejection.

And if you are willing to allow the nails of truth to drive into you, meditate on the outrageous fact that God made the world to work this way. He did it with every intention. So that you might fear him.

The buckingest bronco of all is not this world in which you live, but the God you claim to worship. Therefore, let us find our greatest joy in him and do the good he commands of us.

Context matters.

The idea for this post came out of a few conversations with David Helm, Chairman of the Charles Simeon Trust. The best and most provocative ideas here came from him; any errors in developing them are my own.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

New and Old Garments

November 8, 2019 By Peter Krol

There are parts of the Bible I’ve read so many times that I’m prone to mistake familiarity with them for understanding of them. But once in a while, when I set my familiarity aside, I can take a look at what’s actually there. This happened to me recently in a study of Luke 5.

Image by Mabel Amber, still incognito… from Pixabay

At the end of the chapter, the Pharisees get upset with Jesus and his disciples for not fasting like either John or the Pharisees themselves. Part of Jesus’ response is a straightforward parable:

He also told them a parable: “No one tears a piece from a new garment and puts it on an old garment. If he does, he will tear the new, and the piece from the new will not match the old. (Luke 5:36)

The issue (the problem with my familiarity) is that I’ve spent years of my life studying Mark’s version of this story. This is the first time I’ve taken a close enough look at Luke’s account to realize that Luke is saying something quite different from Mark. Check out Mark’s version:

No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment. If he does, the patch tears away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. (Mark 2:21)

And just for the sake of completeness, here is Matthew’s version:

No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch tears away from the garment, and a worse tear is made. (Matt 9:16)

Observe the Difference

Matthew and Mark are very similar. They talk about cutting an “unshrunk” garment to make a patch for an old garment. The problem is that the new patch will subsequently shrink and tear away from the torn garment, making the original tear far worse.

But Luke is using the same cast of characters to tell a completely different story. He speaks of ripping up a new garment to fix an old one. The problem here is twofold: 1) You’ve ruined a perfectly good (and new) garment, and 2) the fix won’t even match the original.

Why does this matter? What really is the difference between them?

Matthew and Mark are concerned with the damage to the old garment, while Luke is more concerned with the damage to the new garment.

Why Does This Matter?

The epiphany for me was simply to realize I was assuming Luke was telling the same parable as Mark. I needed a jolt to actually look at the text and observe the bare facts of Luke’s presentation. It is so easy to assume I know what a story says. And the unfortunate result of that assumption is that I stop looking!

As for how this affects interpretation: I’m not exactly sure yet, but perhaps you have some ideas. It’s surely related to the extra line Luke adds, which is not found in any other gospel: “And no one after drinking old wine desires new, for he says, ‘The old is good.’ (Luke 5:39).” The problem here is that the new thing is damaged to the point of being perceived as undesirable in comparison to the old thing. And this is a little different from the way Matthew and Mark present the situation.

Perhaps you’re already more familiar with Luke’s version, and it’s difficult for you to see what Mark/Matthew has to say. Either way, it’s another example of the danger of hasty harmonization. Let’s make sure to grasp the particular point each author seeks to make, and not lump them together, presuming they’re communicating the same thing!

How an Overview of Luke Helps You to Grasp a Particular Passage

November 1, 2019 By Peter Krol

I proposed a few weeks ago that if you fail to grasp the big picture of a book of the Bible (in this case, Luke), you’re in danger of getting the pieces wrong. Let me now give an example.

Let’s say you’re ready to begin studying the Gospel of Luke, and you come to the first episode (after the prologue). How does the work you spent in overviewing the book help you?

Structure of Luke 1:5-25

After some careful observation of literary clues, you’ll see that the passage breaks clearly into sections based on the narration and dialogue:

Narrative setting – 5-7
Narrative introduction of conflict – 8-12
Angel speaks – 13-17
Zechariah responds – 18
Angel speaks – 19-20
Narrative climax and resolution – 21-23
Narrative new setting – 24-25

And as you look even more closely at the details, you’ll see that these sections are actually arranged concentrically (as a chiasm). Even the narrative sequence of events supports the structure (mention of Zechariah the priest, and the people praying in reverse order in 8-12 and 21-23).

Setting: An elderly couple’s reproach – 5-7
- Tension introduced: Priest chosen for incense duty – 8-9
  - Rising action: People outside praying – 10
    - Rising action: Angel appears with words from God – 11-17
      - Zechariah: “How will I know? I’m old!” – 18
    - Rising action: Angel decrees silence until word fulfilled – 19-20
  - Rising action: People waiting outside and wondering -21
- Climax/resolution: Priestly service ends in silence and signs – 22-23
New setting: The wife speaks of her reproach being taken away – 24-25

So the narrative conflict revolves around the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for this elderly, reproached priest to offer incense. How will he do? Will he prove faithful? Will his disgraced, childless status affect his ability to serve as priest in any way?

The word of God comes to him, but he does not believe (Luke 1:20)—not even when the most important, chief angel is the one to deliver the message. Whoops! So the passage hinges on Zechariah’s response in Luke 1:18.

The resolution of the tension is actually an anti-resolution: He emerges successful from his service of offering incense, but unable to speak. Since he will not listen to God’s words through the angel Gabriel, he will have no words of his own to speak.

Help from the Big Picture

So what are we to make of this? We could draw significant lessons simply from observing and interpreting the text itself. How does the book’s big picture help at all?

First, we must remember that Luke’s stated purpose to his primary audience (Theophilus) is “that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught” (Luke 1:4). Paul is on trial for his life, and Luke wants to give Theophilus all the facts of this Christian movement.

Then the very first scene of the book hinges on the question “How shall I know this?” (Luke 1:18). Luke opens his book with a man asking the very question Theophilus would have regarding Christianity and Paul’s defense.

Second, when we consider that the Jewish priests are the chief accusers of Paul (Acts 24:1-8), we realize it’s no accident that Luke opens his book with the story of a Jewish priest. A priest serving in the temple — the very place Paul was accused of having profaned (Acts 24:6). And that priest’s service in the temple doesn’t prevent him from being characterized by unbelief (Luke 1:20). It’s as though Luke wants Theophilus to see from the beginning that you can’t really trust what Jewish priests say. Even when they serve in the temple. Even when they get a message directly from God by the hand of the most famous angel.

Now, of course we see Zechariah come around by the end of his story, believing the promises of God (Luke 1:62-64, 67-79). But that doesn’t change the fact that he clearly does not believe God’s word at first. And this only highlights Luke’s purpose for his secondary audience — that the Jews might repent and believe.

The Main Point of Luke 1:5-25

So Gabriel says some remarkable things in Luke 1:13-17. And it’s all there for a purpose. But we should note that the prophecy about John, his role like Elijah, his presumed Nazirite lifestyle, and his effect on the hearts of his generation are all supportive of the main point. These things certainly make up part of the message we must believe. But if we come away from this passage armed with only the theology of John’s role in God’s plan, we have missed the main thing.

The main point is: How do we know? Can we really trust any of these reports? Can we trust an account about an encounter with a supernatural being?

Luke wants Theophilus, along with the rest of us, to know that we can have certainty regarding what we’ve heard about Christianity — just possibly not from a first century Jewish priest. And those who will not listen to the word from God will have nothing useful to say.

Application

Having seen Luke’s main idea, we’re ready to consider application.

We all tend to know what ails us. We are aware of the reproach and shame we feel.

And we can know God’s rescue plan. We can know God’s intentions to turn our hearts back to him. We can know joy and gladness once again, in the Lord’s plan of salvation.

But listening to the wrong voices (those with the greatest authority and the largest following in our culture) won’t get us any closer to the truth. Those who won’t listen to God’s plan for the world’s salvation will have nothing of value to say.

Therefore, we can trust God’s plan to rescue us from our worst ailment. This passage doesn’t say anything about Jesus yet, but it sets us up to be ready for him.

And we don’t need to fear the bluster of those who won’t believe. They may have all kinds of accusations against the faithful. But we can know that their accusations will fall to the ground. They will one day be silenced.

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