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Can You Really Trust the Teaching of Ecclesiastes?

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Mitch Chase takes up an important question in the Bible’s wisdom literature: Can you trust the book of Ecclesiastes? Is it a collection of biblical wisdom, or is it a curation of ungodly beliefs to reject?

When you survey commentaries on the book of Ecclesiastes, you’ll notice that not every interpreter is convinced we should trust the words in this book. So how should we approach it? Is the content of Ecclesiastes like the book of Job, in which the speeches of Job’s friends have a mixture of truth and error? Or do the Preacher’s observations about life “under the sun” stay uncorrupted and trustworthy?

I think we can thoroughly trust the book’s content and wisdom, and I want to offer some considerations as to why.

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Recognize Both Divine and Human Authors of the Bible

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Daniel Rowlands suggests that one context we ought to keep in mind when reading the Bible is the context of the whole Bible. We can do this because, though the books of the Bible were written by various human authors, they were also written by the singular divine author.

Here is a taste:

The word of God in the Bible comes to us through human writers. We find the humanity of the writers in variations of vocabulary, idioms, structure, and style. For example, there is the difference between the exquisite Hebrew poetry and varied vocabulary of Isaiah and the straight-forward narrative of Joshua. Similarly, in the New Testament there is the difference between the complex and elegant Greek of Hebrews and John’s more elementary Greek. We can detect the presence of the human authors throughout all of Scripture.

On the other hand, and at the risk of sounding obvious, we ought not neglect the divine author, God himself. Here, the incarnation of the Son of God in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Word become flesh (John 1:14), is a helpful analogy for understanding the human and divine together as one.

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Examples of Wrestling through the Prescriptive/Descriptive Debate

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Last week, I brought up the debate that inevitably arises in a discussion of a narrative text: Is this passage prescribing something we should imitate (or avoid), or is it simply describing what the characters did in their setting? I proposed that we can often eliminate the need for such a debate if we focus on applying the passage’s main point. Commonly, the passage’s main point is clear enough to direct us in how to change; we don’t even need to decide whether a given detail or behavior in the text ought to be imitated or not.

Let me give two examples where the main point eliminates the debate (by rendering it irrelevant), and one example where it doesn’t.

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Acts 15:36-16:5

In Acts 15:36-41, Paul and Barnabas have a sharp disagreement over whether to take John Mark with them on their second missionary journey. They cannot agree, so they split up and part ways. I’ve heard people use this passage to argue that parting ways is an unhealthy way to deal with conflict. And I’ve heard other people use this passage as an example of when parting ways is inevitable and perhaps even healthier than remaining together in constant strife.

So which is it? And it begs the question: Is this text even meant to prescribe a certain way of dealing with conflict (through either good or bad example), or is it simply describing what happened in the lives of those three men?

Notice that the narrative of this split comes immediately after the resolution of a major debate in the early church (whether Gentile converts to Christianity need to follow the law of Moses) and the delivery of the council’s verdict (Acts 15:1-35). And the very next scene (Acts 16:1-5) shows Paul circumcising a new protege on account of local Jewish sensibilities and the knowledge of Timothy’s Greek lineage on his father’s side (Acts 16:3). The narrator connects Timothy’s circumcision quite closely with the delivery of the Jerusalem council’s decision in that region (Acts 16:4).

That literary flow and context is a major factor leading me to conclude that the main point of Acts 15:36-16:5 is that the growth of Christ’s kingdom cannot be stopped, even when leaders must make trade offs in partners (Acts 15:36-41) and practices (Acts 16:1-5). In other words, partners and practices can change, but the grace of Jesus Christ remains the same.

So is the Paul/Barnabas split prescriptive or descriptive? In light of the main point, it’s both. And neither. The point of the text is not to provide direction on whether you ought to leave your church or split up a partnership (perhaps by demonstrating what sort of circumstances would warrant a split). The point of the text is to provide larger assurance that many things will change (and should change!) in service of the unchanging gospel of Jesus Christ.

So maybe you should leave your situation and maybe you shouldn’t. But maybe an even more important question this text wants you to ask is whether you (and not your environment) should change. Or your methods should change. Or your expectations or objectives. We don’t need to answer the prescriptive/descriptive question in order to apply this text in personal and profound ways.

Jonah 3

The prophet Jonah, fresh off his three-night stay inside a 5-star seaside resort, finally makes his way to Nineveh to preach what God commanded him to preach. His message is direct and to the point: “Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” (Jonah 3:4). Is that the sort of message God’s preachers ought to be preaching to the church’s enemies?

Maybe. And maybe not. But perhaps that’s not the question this text pushes us to ask.

Jonah 3 tells the story of a salvation too strange for satire. It could not be more extreme. Jonah gets spit up by the fish. He walks only a third of the way into the bad guys’ HQ, preaching a single sentence of judgment (with neither an offer of mercy nor a demand for repentance). The response is immediate and ridiculously unlikely: All people repent. Word gets ahead of Jonah to the palace. The king immediately halts all civil operations and declares a national mourning. Even the livestock must wear itchy clothes and join the public prayer meetings.

The plot builds to the climax of verse 9: “Who knows? Maybe, just maybe God will relent.”

As the plot conflict finally resolves, God sees what the Ninevites have done, and he does, in fact, relent. He doesn’t do what he said he would do.

The main idea is that God saves the wrong kind of people. It has nothing to do with the merits of the people, the message itself, or the preacher who delivered it. It has everything to do with the God who loads his gun with mercy and keeps it on a hair-trigger setting.

So is Jonah’s preaching style and message prescriptive or descriptive? It really doesn’t matter, because the point is not to instruct God’s people in how to preach to their enemies. The point is to paint a dramatic and outrageous picture of God’s proclivity to show mercy. When we apply that main point, we might draw implications for preaching or evangelism. But it is not crucial that we figure out how to do (or avoid) what Jonah did.

Acts 2

And now for a closing example where the main point does not sideline the prescriptive/descriptive question. Should churches speak in tongues like the apostles on the Day of Pentecost, or not? Is the text prescribing such behavior, or is it simply describing a unique thing that happened that day?

In Acts 2:1-4, the proclamation of God’s works in different languages provides a sign that the Holy Spirit has come upon the disciples. The body of the chapter is organized by the answers to two questions:

  • What does this mean? – Acts 2:5-13
    • Peter’s answer – Acts 2:14-36
  • What shall we do? – Acts 2:37
    • Peter’s answer – Acts 2:38-40

Then a narrative conclusion exhibits the new creation community launched that day (Acts 2:41-47).

This structure emphasizes the Q&A that makes up the body of the chapter, where Peter explains what all the stuff happening in the narrative frame means. And the main point of that explanation is that the arrival of God’s Spirit is proof that Jesus is the King who has made salvation possible.

So, is the disciples’ speaking in tongues prescriptive or descriptive? This time, I can’t say that the question is beside the point. One person could argue that speaking in tongues is prescribed as a way of proving to people today that Jesus is the King who has made salvation possible. Another person could argue that speaking in tongues is no longer necessary; that unique event provided the proof that Jesus is the King who has made salvation possible. But both of those perspectives are trying their best to faithfully apply the main point.

Please note: I am not saying (and I wasn’t saying in the previous examples) that the main point answers the prescriptive/descriptive question. In the first two examples, I was saying only that the author’s main point makes the question irrelevant and unnecessary. In this third example, the main point actually makes the prescriptive/descriptive question highly relevant.

Much more work needs to be done in context, correlation, systematic and biblical theology to answer the question of speaking in tongues in Acts 2. But the main point confirms that the question itself is well worth asking.

Conclusion

Much of the time, it is not necessary for us to figure out whether particular behaviors in a text are prescriptive or descriptive. The text’s main point reveals an agenda to produce change in some other area, and we should focus on that area instead of our prescriptive/descriptive question. In these situations, when someone asks whether a narrative detail is prescriptive or descriptive, we can sidestep the question by asking instead: What’s the author’s main point?

But in a few cases, a text’s main point confirms the crucial importance of the prescriptive/descriptive question, and our time seeking to answer the question is well spent.

Whose Body is a Temple of the Holy Spirit?

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I’ve argued before, from the context, that 1 Cor 6:19 is not a catch-all prohibition against anything and everything a person can do to their body (tattoos, alcohol, smoking, etc.). Nicholas Piotrowski and Ryan Johnson take it another step further to clarify what exactly Paul means by “your body.”

They carefully observe the grammar, context, and flow of thought through the entire letter of 1 Corinthians to conclude that “your body” is not, after all, your own body but the larger community (the body of Christ).

The trouble is that the Bible consistently speaks of one temple for the one God. So if each Christian’s individual body were a temple in and of itself, then that would mean God has millions of isolated temples all over the world. There is a bit of a theological problem with this.

I need to consider this further myself, especially since the “body” appears to refer to an individual’s physical in 1 Cor 6:18, the immediately preceding sentence. But perhaps my familiarity is clouding my observation of that verse as well!

Piotrowski and Johnson give four very good reasons for reading the verse in a corporate way, and I encourage you to give their reasons your own consideration.

Check it out!

Why “What Does it Mean to Me?” is a Bad Question

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Our method for Bible study can be summarized with just three letters—OIA—which represent three skills that govern all human communication: observe, interpret, and apply. Those three skills provide the answers to three basic questions:

  • What does it say?
  • What does it mean?
  • How should I change?

Over the years, I’ve regularly heard well-meaning folks ask that third question—the question of application—in this way: What doest it mean to me?

That question has the benefits of rhythm and resonance. It flows right off the tongue to recite: “What does it say, what does it mean, what does it mean to me.” And that rhythm can certainly aid with memory.

However, the costs we pay in clarity and accuracy are not worth the gains of memorability, for at least four reasons.

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It confuses application with interpretation.

By asking “what does it mean?” we are doing the work of interpretation. We are figuring out why the original author says what he says, and what that meant to the original audience. By using the same verbiage of “what does it mean,” despite the qualifier “to me,” we communicate that we are doing the same thing, only with a different audience in view.

Why does that matter? Who cares if we do (or communicate that we are doing) the same thing for different audiences? That leads me to the second reason that “what does it mean to me?” is a bad question.

It relativizes truth.

The question presumes that meaning is a matter of indifference. That a text’s meaning depends on who reads it. On how they perceive it. And so a text can mean one thing to one person or community, and another thing to a different group.

When we relativize the truth in this way, we ought not be surprised when the realities of Scripture are brought into question whenever they grow too inconvenient. For example, many who once stood for the Bible’s definition of marriage have come to interpret those pesky passages to have a different meaning, now that severe cultural pressure has been exerted.

And while I’m a fan of relativizing application, we must not do the same with interpretation. A passage doesn’t mean what any reader believes it means. A passage means what the author meant by it. For this reason, the concept of meaning carries much weight and is not something with which to tamper.

Wi to the intent to apply, it makes sense to ask “what does the text mean for me?” That question prods for implications and applications. But to ask what the text means to me is to tamper with its meaning.

You can choose to agree with the text or disagree with it. You can like it or dislike it. But you can’t change what it means. Do you see what I mean?

It makes application an exercise in self-fulfillment.

I recently wrote a thank-you note to a generous person who did something extraordinary for my family. In that note, I said, “it means so much to me that you…” That phrase, “what it means to me,” has a particular force and use in modern English, which has more to do with inspiration and delight than with truth or understanding.

The average person in today’s Western world, hearing the question “what does that mean to you?” doesn’t naturally hear a challenge or stimulation toward life change. That person hears an expression of self-fulfillment.

And self-fulfillment is not always a bad thing (as long as it’s not a godless or ultimate thing). I hope many people find great satisfaction and delight in their study of God’s word. But such satisfaction and delight is not the same thing as robust application.

It predisposes application to only one direction.

By asking “what does it mean to me,” we communicate momentum from the text to the individual reading it. Perhaps unintentionally, this frames what is happening as something that terminates on the reader. Therefore, even if the question itself is understood as one of application and not interpretation, it sets the reader up for inward application alone. The reader is not likely to consider outward application as well.

And since many of us are already naturally inclined to forget application’s second direction, we don’t need to reinforce the inclination with the way we frame the question.

Conclusion

For these reasons, we have never recommended “what does it mean to me” as a way to summarize the application step. We prefer to ask “How should I change?”

That doesn’t mean I’ll start flipping tables if I’m in your Bible study and you ask “What does this text mean to you?” I promise I’ll do my best to be polite. But I’ll also do my best to reframe the resulting discussion in a more useful way.

Help with Zechariah

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I’ve been leading my church’s preaching team through series on Jonah and Nahum over the last few months. I’m really enjoying the Lord’s messages for us in the minor prophets.

And I once considered Zechariah to be the most difficult book of the Bible to grasp. Perhaps it is, but Steven McCarthy is here to help.

McCarthy broadly walks through the book’s structure, explaining the main idea of each of the visions before covering the oracles of the book’s second half. Here is a taster:

Zechariah, along with his counterpart Haggai, speaks from this period of return from exile in Babylon and rebuilding of the temple in Jerusalem. (Ezra 5:1-2) He does so with a broad scope and a heavily symbolic style. Whereas Haggai’s burden is laser-focused on the specific priority of rebuilding God’s temple, Zechariah’s burden is more generally for the people to be spiritually and morally disposed for God’s renewal and fulfillment of his covenant relationship with them. Indeed, God’s grace trains us “to renounce ungodliness”. (Titus 2:11-14) The book of Zechariah leads us to the conclusion that only Christ’s coming itself will make God’s people into a fitting community for the LORD’s dwelling.

My only hesitation is that McCarthy is quick to suggest that the second half of Zechariah is “about” Jesus and his work. Certainly, the New Testament shows the fulfillment of Zechariah in the work of Christ. But I would prefer to first clarify what the text meant to the original audience (who did not know who Jesus was), and only then talk about the fulfillment in Christ.

But despite this minor qualification, McCarthy’s brief comments are well worth your time. He will enable you to get your bearings in this important book.

Check it out!

Piper on Finding the Main Point of a Chapter

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The climax of the interpretation phase of Bible study is to determine the author’s main point. I have observed that skill to be one of the most difficult things for people to learn.

So here is some additional advice from John Piper. He describes his general process, using the metaphor of a 500-piece puzzle, and then he models it with the example of Psalm 8.

So, the point is to look at the pieces very carefully, to fit them together in midsize units, to jot down the main points of the midsize units until you have them all on a half sheet of paper, and then to think and think, and pray and pray, and think and pray and think and pray, and to organize and draw lines, and to try to fit them all together until they fall into place and you see how these five, six, seven, eight, nine points of the midsize units are in a flow that make one big overarching point. You will be surprised, if you take up pencil and paper and do this, what you will see.

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Foundational Beliefs about the Bible

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What must you believe about the Bible in order to properly study the Bible? Joel Beeke and Michael Barrett suggest that we cannot avoid this question:

When we view the Scriptures through faith, we do so with a set of beliefs that we take for granted to be true. These presuppositions are essential and inevitable. It is absolutely impossible to come to the Bible with an open mind. Liberal scholars often claim they approach Scripture with an open mind in order to evaluate the Word of God and judge its accuracy. In reality they come with the presupposition that human reason is superior to divine revelation. That is not an open mind; it is a closed heart that evidences a mindset predisposed against God and truth. Man cannot stand as the judge of Scripture; Scripture stands as the judge of man. As believers, we must come with an open and receptive heart to receive and believe what God says.

And if we believe that God’s word is true, then we must also believe the things the Bible says about itself.

…every time we open the Scripture, we must do so with awe and reverence generated by the certain knowledge that the Bible is not an ordinary book but the very Word of the eternal God, whose veracity is beyond question or doubt. The Bible is not what men define it to be; it is what God declares it to be. Men can believe that or deny that, but they cannot alter that. The premise that the Bible is the inspired, authoritative, infallible, sufficient, and effective Word of God should be the foundation for the study of Scripture. All truth has its source in God and, consequently, His truth is universal and timeless. Although times change, truth is changeless. Although applications of truth can vary, truth is constant. This is good reason to make the Bible a subject for study.

In their brief article, Beeke and Barrett explain what it means for the Bible to be inspired, authoritative, infallible, sufficient, and effective. I commend their reflections to you.

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Your Conscience Requires an Eternal Inheritance

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Previously, I proposed that Jesus is the best thing for your conscience because he provides an eternal redemption and he promises an eternal inheritance. This is what Hebrews 9 is all about. Last week I explained our eternal redemption in Heb 9:1-14. Now it’s time to see the eternal inheritance in Heb 9:15-28.

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The Promised Eternal Inheritance

Hebrews 9:15-28 states its main idea right at the beginning, in Heb 9:15: That which awaits the beneficiaries of Jesus’ new covenant is a “promised eternal inheritance.”

‌Now the way an “inheritance” worked back then was very similar to how it works now. An inheritance is the thing you receive when your parents or grandparents pass away. A person spends their life building up an estate.‌ And when they die, they pass that estate on to their heirs in portions.

‌That’s what this text is saying that Jesus does.

‌The text has been talking about a “covenant” (Heb 9:, 15), but in Heb 9:16, he’s suddenly talking about a “will.” At least, it feels sudden to us, but it’s not sudden at all.

‌You should know that the original Greek word for “will” (Heb 9:16-17) is exactly the same as the original Greek word for “covenant” (Heb 9:15, 20, etc.). This one Greek word could be used in a variety of ways, and we need two English words to capture the sense of it.

‌But a “covenant” and a “will” are closely related concepts, and the author plays off those concepts here in this text.

  • “He is the mediator of a new covenant…” (Heb 9:15)
  • “For where a covenant is involved, the death of the one who made it must be established.” (Heb 9:16)

‌What he’s saying here is simply that an inheritance cannot pass on until the person owning it passes away. And that’s exactly what happened with Jesus Christ.

‌So those who trust in Christ and join his new covenant receive a promised eternal inheritance (Heb 9:15). But they can’t actually get it unless the one who promised it dies (Heb 9:16-17). Heb 9:18-22 references Exodus 24, where the first covenant was activated in those copycat, earthly places by constant death. But the new covenant was activated in the real place—heaven—by just one death (Heb 9:23-26).

‌Sometimes people think of the Old Covenant as being real and physical, and the new covenant as being spiritual and invisible. But this text looks at the differences differently:

  • The old covenant was only figurative. The one making the covenant didn’t actually die. He had to kill an animal as a substitute to activate the covenant. And since it was only figuratively forgiving sins, the sacrificial deaths had to occur over and over again.
  • But the new covenant is the thing that is real, not symbolic. Therefore only one death had to occur, since it fully and finally activated the will, so the heirs could receive the inheritance.

‌So what is the point of all this?

‌You can know your redemption is real and eternal, because the Lord Jesus died, activating his covenant, and passing on his full estate as your inheritance.

‌Application

‌Stop trying to cleanse your conscience through good deeds or religious activity! You can’t silence the inner voice of accusation by attending services or performing rituals. And you’ll never do enough good deeds to balance out the sin you have committed.

‌Instead, look to the inheritance that belongs to you because the Lord Jesus died.

‌And that begs a crucial question: What is that inheritance? What is it that we get after Jesus died that we couldn’t have gotten before he died?

‌The Old Testament people of God had the land of Canaan as their inheritance. They lost that inheritance when they rejected God as their God. But what is our inheritance under the new covenant?

‌Well, that’s what the author ends with: the general principle that all people die and face judgment (Heb 9:27), applied specifically to Jesus (Heb 9:28). Jesus himself died, and will one day face judgment. Though in his case, the judgment he faces will not be brought against him. It is his own judgment to put the world to rights and save his people from injustice.

‌And who will those people be? How can you tell who will be saved by him on the last day when he returns?

‌He “will appear a second time, not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him” (Heb 9:28).

‌Right here, the author informs us of what we inherit. The thing we get, now that Jesus has died, is Jesus himself. We are those who are waiting for him. Eagerly.

‌And if you’re tempted to think that’s lame and anticlimactic, because that’s not the sort of inheritance you were hoping for, and you wonder where all the fortune and glory is—

‌Then you need to go back to chapter 1 of Hebrews and remind yourself of who Jesus is.

‌It is no small thing to say that Jesus is yours. That he is your inheritance. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature. Jesus is the one who upholds the universe by his word of power. He created the world, and he is the heir of all things.

‌And when he is your inheritance, everything that is his becomes yours. And you belong to his God and Father.

‌So as a final application: Let’s test your conscience right now.

‌If you found out that Jesus was returning this afternoon, how would you take that development? Would you embrace the news eagerly, as the solution you’ve been waiting for? Or would there be a nagging voice in your head that springs to life, reminding you of the grave danger you are in, rehearsing all the things you’ve left unresolved?

‌Would you feel as though Jesus’ return would cut you off from experiencing something “better” that you haven’t experienced yet?

‌I encourage you to wait for the Lord Jesus to return, and to wait eagerly. As you look ahead to his return, you ought not be wracked with guilt, anxiety, or distress. You can serve him now with a clear conscience, because you wait eagerly for him to become fully yours then, when he returns. He’s already dealt with your sin and that of the world. Now you’re just waiting for him to clean up all the undesirable effects of it.

‌Your eternal inheritance is the Lord Jesus himself, your great high priest. He provides you with the assurance that your redemption is eternal. And because of his eternal redemption and eternal inheritance, your conscience is clean.

‌Not just for a little while, but now and forever.

‌Jesus is the best thing for your conscience.

Watch Out for Silly Putty Bible Study

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Consider the following scenario. What do you think could be the problem with it?

…a Christian woman who has been praying for her family’s conversion stumbles upon Acts 16 during her quiet time. Her eyes settle on Paul’s response to the Philippian jailer, who asked, “What must I do to be saved?” “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved,” Paul answered, then added, “you and your household” (vv. 29–31).

Encouraged by these words, the woman begins to claim the “promise” that her own household will be saved, with the justification that “the Holy Spirit gave me this verse.”

This situation comes from a wonderful article from Greg Koukl about how easy it is to treat the Bible like Silly Putty®—a squishy, doughy substance you make into any shape you want. Koukl’s analysis and counsel is very good.

Check it out!