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Context Matters: The Letter Kills

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“The letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.” Some have read 2 Cor 3:6 in a way that opposes “Spirit-filled” ministry to “Bible-focused” ministry. I have not come across this particular perspective very often, but Graham Heslop has, and does a wonderful job explaining how the verse’s context reveals a different argument in the mind of the Apostle Paul.

Oft quoted, and always from the King James Version for effect, is 2 Corinthians 3:6. There Paul writes: “The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.” This verse is usually cited in support of Spirit led ministries, over against those that prioritise theology and study. Because the letter kills, so the logic goes, we should not overemphasise detailed teaching or a focus on the Bible. For many, Paul’s statement liberates Christian believers from lifeless, dull, and bookish expressions of faith into the exciting and novel. Lively and Spirit led ministries have put the “letter” away, embracing the life-giving work of the Spirit. But is this really the distinction Paul is making?

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Context: Children and Parents

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Mike Leake shows us why context matters in the letter of 2 Corinthians. Some might see a universal principle in 2 Cor 12:14: “Children are not obligated to save up for their parents, but parents for their children.” But the historical, logical, literary, and biblical contexts show us the limited scope of what Paul meant.

Leake does a great job showing us how to approach the text of Scripture with caution and care for the context.

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Context Matters: Moses’ Shining Face

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Perhaps you’ve heard of how Moses covered his shining face with a veil so people couldn’t see the blazing glory emanating from it. And perhaps you’ve also heard of the veil that now lies over people’s hearts that prevents them from being able to see Jesus in the Old Testament Scripture. These well-intentioned lessons might feel personal and impactful, but they have little to do with what the text of Scripture says.

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

Yu-cheng Hsiao (2009), Creative Commons

Exodus 34

To set us straight with Exodus 34, we don’t need the context; we just need to observe more carefully:

As he came down from the mountain, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. Aaron and all the people of Israel saw Moses, and behold, the skin of his face shone, and they were afraid to come near him. But Moses called to them, and Aaron and all the leaders of the congregation returned to him, and Moses talked with them. Afterward all the people of Israel came near, and he commanded them all that the Lord had spoken with him in Mount Sinai. And when Moses had finished speaking with them, he put a veil over his face.

Whenever Moses went in before the Lord to speak with him, he would remove the veil, until he came out. And when he came out and told the people of Israel what he was commanded, the people of Israel would see the face of Moses, that the skin of Moses’ face was shining. And Moses would put the veil over his face again, until he went in to speak with him. (Ex 34:29-35)

Perhaps my experience is atypical, but I have often heard people talk about how Moses used the veil to protect people from seeing the glory radiating from his face. But this is not what Exodus says. It says that he allowed them to see the glory when he spoke the words of Yahweh to them. And then he put the veil over his face until the next time he got a recharge from speaking with the Lord within the tent.

2 Corinthians 3

But some will argue that 2 Cor 3 says that Moses used the veil to hide the glory. And that that’s where we get the idea that the veil is a metaphor for people who can’t see Jesus in the Old Testament. A few verses seem to imply these things:

Now if the ministry of death, carved in letters on stone, came with such glory that the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’ face because of its glory… (2 Cor 3:7)

But their minds were hardened. For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted, because only through Christ is it taken away. Yes, to this day whenever Moses is read a veil lies over their hearts. But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. (2 Cor 3:14-16)

Here is where we need help from the context.

First, notice the next clause in verse 7: “the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’ face because of its glory, which was being brought to an end.” Now this could mean that they could not gaze at the glory, and the glory was coming to an end—two separate thoughts. But look at where he goes next.

Second, notice the nature of the old/new contrasts. Old = condemnation; new = righteousness (2 Cor 3:9). Old = glory that became no glory; new = surpassing glory (2 Cor 3:10). Old = glory of what was being brought to an end; new = glory for what is permanent (2 Cor 3:11). These contrasts are getting at the superior glory of the new covenant. But that glory is superior primarily because it has no end. It is permanent. It will not fade.

Third, notice Paul’s clarification of what the Israelites saw. His point is not that they saw only a veil and not the glorious face of Moses. His point is that they “might not gaze at the outcome of what was being brought to an end” (2 Cor 3:13). In other words, Moses’ veil was never about hiding the glory from the people. It was all about hiding the fact that the glory was fading.

And by contrast, what we have in the new covenant is something permanent. Something unsurpassed. Something that will never fade, but will instead transform its subjects “from one degree of glory to another” (2 Cor 3:18).

The Argument

I covered this in my Bible study of Exodus 34:29-35, but the train of thought is worth repeating here.

Paul uses this episode from Exodus to make a profound point about the glory of the New Covenant in Christ (2 Cor 3:1-4:18). If we assume that Moses’ veil was covering the glory itself (when it was actually concealing the fact that the glory was fading), we miss Paul’s point. Paul’s argument:

  • The people he ministers to are themselves the proof of Paul’s recommendation from Christ (2 Cor 3:1-3).
  • His sufficiency as a minister of the new covenant comes from Christ who makes him sufficient (2 Cor 3:4-6).
  • While Moses’ ministry had a blazing, terrifying glory, it was always a fading glory (“the Israelites could not gaze at Moses’ face because of its glory, which was being brought to an end” – 2 Cor 3:7-11).
  • Therefore, Paul is not like Moses, who tried to conceal the fact that his glory was fading (“Moses…put a veil over his face so that the Israelites might not gaze at the outcome of what was being brought to an end” – 2 Cor 3:12-13).
  • Even today, the Jews fail to see the temporary, fading nature of the Old Covenant when it’s read to them (2 Cor 3:14-15).
  • But when they turn to Christ, they finally see the Old Covenant for the fading and temporary thing it is. They behold the Lord’s face and become perpetually and increasingly glorious (2 Cor 3:16-18).
  • This is why the people, whose reflection of Christ’s glory never fades but always brightens, are themselves the proof of Paul’s qualification for ministering this superior covenant (2 Cor 3:1-3, 4:1-15).
  • This gives Paul tremendous courage to persevere when ministry is hard (2 Cor 4:16-18).

Conclusion

The veil conceals the fact that the glory of the old covenant is, and always has been, fading. Only by gazing on the unfading—no, the ever-increasing—glory of Jesus Christ through his Spirit, can the veil be lifted and people finally see the old covenant for what it is (fading).

Context matters.

For more examples of why context matters, click here.

What To Do When the NT Quotes the OT

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Mike Leake has some great advice for what we should do when we’re reading the New Testament, and it quotes an Old Testament verse. He looks at 2 Cor 4:13, where Paul quotes Psalm 116:10, and he shows how Paul has the entire Psalm in mind as he makes his argument. Leake’s analysis is rich and compelling.

Then he concludes:

But we miss all of this if we think the biblical authors quoted verses the way that we do. So here is a little tip for your Bible reading. Whenever you see that a New Testament passage is a quotation of an Old Testament passage, don’t just go back and read that one verse in the OT. Instead go back and read the entire Psalm, or the entire context of that quote. It’ll help you to understand more fully why the biblical author quoted that verse.

Context matters. This is basic Bible study at its best, and I commend it to you.

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Why Vulnerability is So Hard

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Yesterday I arrived at one of those small but significant decision points that threaten my composure and test the limits of my willingness to be known. It came when my coworker greeted me with his usual, “How are you today?”

I earnestly sought a perfunctory “Fine, how are you?” so I could move on from the greeting and get on with my day, but it eluded me. The truth was that I was not fine. Twice in the last week I had pled with dear friends who were departing from the faith, one into false doctrine and another into immorality. Both cases of apostasy hit me hard, and I had mourned and prayed over them, wondering what on earth God was doing.

So I cracked open the door—”I’m pretty sad today”—and it was costly to do so. It cost me a measure of self-confidence and self-respect. It cost me a few minutes of my life to explain what I was sad about. It reopened the wound and renewed the pain. It sucked more energy out of me, as I tried to balance openness with self-control (to avoid gossip, venting, or speaking other words that wouldn’t edify).

But such vulnerability is Christlike, and by faith I trust it was worth it.

J (2008), Creative Commons

J (2008), Creative Commons

Why is it so hard for us to be vulnerable with one another? Why do we struggle to lead and to teach the Scripture with transparency? Why are we more attracted to a pretense of perfection or a veneer of imperturbability? I can think of at least 3 reasons.

Theological Reasons

I have heard pastors say they won’t tell personal stories from the pulpit because it would get in the way of representing Christ. They believe that for Christ to shine brightly, they must completely get out of the way. So in private they’re happy to share of their need for grace, but their preaching focuses much more on proclaiming the truth than on incarnating it.

This same sort of thinking shows up when Bible study leaders think only about how to apply the text to the group members and not about how to apply it to themselves. One sign of this struggle is when their preparation time doesn’t feel devotional and they need to schedule separate personal time with the Lord.

I greatly respect those who want to “get out of the way” so people can see Christ. This desire to serve others at great cost to oneself is a noble one.

But I think the attempt misfires, for we miss the fact that God shows people himself by showing himself to people. He doesn’t merely declare truth; he demonstrates the truth and lives it out. He became a man and perfected his power in weakness. He demonstrates his love by dying for sinners. He exposed and disgraced himself that he might lead us to glory.

And so John can say that while no-one has seen God, Jesus has made him known (John 1:18). But at the same time, while no-one has seen God, they will see him if we love one another (1 John 4:12). For them to see, we must give them something to see.

Personal Reasons

Some brave souls like Eric, who commented on last week’s post, perceive pride and fear as the greatest enemies to vulnerability.

  • We don’t want people to think less of us.
  • We fear losing our position or influence.
  • We don’t want to be a burden.
  • We don’t want to be laughed at or seen as mistaken or needy.

Perhaps we even feel like our reputation—or at least our self-perception of it—signifies our standing with God, such that God’s pleasure is shown through others’ pleasure and people’s displeasure betrays God’s displeasure.

Whatever the exact issue, we find our identity in something other than the finished work of Christ. We must not forget the guttural cry of him who bowed his head and gave up his spirit (John 19:30).

Practical Reasons

My biggest struggle, as I mentioned above, is that vulnerability is hard work. It’s costly, and I’m often unwilling to pay that cost.

Many in the “theological reason” camp react rightly against those who see their leadership as an opportunity for dealing with their personal demons. If I’m vulnerable for my sake—to cleanse my conscience or even to get people to feel sorry for me—I have missed the point. There’s a foolish sort of vulnerability that serves nobody but myself, but there’s also a wise sort of vulnerability that serves others deeply (for example, see 2 Corinthians 11-12).

This wise vulnerability takes an effort. It requires forethought and godly character. It demands unwavering confidence in Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Cor 12:10).

When you teach the Scripture, beware sanitized hypocrisy.

Beware Sanitized Hypocrisy

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The third practice for preparing effective Bible studies is to allow the message to change you. The fact should be obvious, but so often it’s not: We can’t teach what we haven’t learned. Our words are just words if we can’t show them by our lives. Paul said, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1, ESV), but his exhortation would have fallen flat if he hadn’t opened his life for them to see (1 Cor 9:1-7, 15-23; 10:32-33).

I’ve been really challenged by this point lately, especially when I feel pressed for time in my teaching preparation. It’s so hard to deal with the log in my eye before I try to remove the speck from others’ eyes!

But the biblical word for leaders who say one thing but do another is “hypocrite.” Of course, I might successfully avoid aggressive forms of hypocrisy: preaching integrity while robbing the church, promoting purity while secretly indulging immorality, etc. But how often do I sanitize my hypocrisy, justifying my sins of omission while passionately promoting their opposite? For example:

  • Do I exhort people to confess their sins, but I never confess mine?
  • Do I oppose pride and promote humility, but I’m afraid to let anyone see me when I’m weak?
  • Do I preach about how much people need the grace of Christ, but I don’t reveal an inch of my own need for the grace of Christ?
  • Do I urge people to love one another, but I believe my leadership position prevents me from having any close friends?
  • Do I want people to be open to feedback, but I never ask for it myself?

Shepherds shepherd, and leaders lead. This means they go out in front and don’t ask people to do anything they haven’t done first. So before Jesus asked Peter to feed his lambs and die (John 21:15-19), he was the Good Shepherd who laid down his own life for the sheep (John 10:11). So also Paul can beg the Corinthians to open wide their hearts to him after his heart was opened wide to them (2 Cor 6:11-13). And Jonathan can call his armor bearer to come up after him; Jonathan goes first to make them fall, and the armor bearer simply mops up after him (1 Sam 14:12-13).

This kind of leadership requires two kinds of vulnerability:

  1. When preparing to lead a study, we must allow the text to change us.
  2. When leading the study, we must explain how the text has changed us.

rikdom (2007), Creative Commons

rikdom (2007), Creative Commons

This means that I must apply the Scripture to myself before I try to apply it to anyone else. And when appropriate, I must be willing to share these lessons to give people a model for how the text can change them. After practicing these things, I’ll be in a position to suggest further applications for others.

Hear Jesus’ warning against those who wouldn’t do what they asked others to do:

The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat, so practice and observe whatever they tell you – but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice. They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on people’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to move them with their finger. They do all their deeds to be seen by others. For they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long, and they love the place of honor at feasts and the best seats in the synagogues and greetings in the marketplaces and being called rabbi by others. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all brothers. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Christ. The greatest among you shall be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted. (Matt 23:2-12)

I have some ideas about why such vulnerability is so difficult, and I’ll write about them next week. But in the meantime, I’d like to hear what you think. Question: Why do you think it’s hard for us to be vulnerable in our leadership?