Main Point | Knowable Word

Arise, My Love — Part 2: Interpretation

December 10, 2021 By Peter Krol

In a previous post, I pulled back the curtain on my observation of Song of Solomon 2:7-3:5, yielding the following structure:

Song 2:8-9 – her (daydreaming?) delight in the voice of her beloved
- Song 2:10-15 – the contents of her beloved’s voice
  - Song 2:10-13 – Arise and come away
  - Song 2:14-15 – Come out and catch up
- Song 2:16-17 – her declaration of mutual possession with her beloved
Song 3:1-4 – her dream of seeking and finding the one her soul loves
- Song 3:5 – her oath for the other young women not to stir up love yet

Now I’d like to show you how I move further into interpretation and application.

Her Daydream

The chief goal of interpretation is to arrive at the poet’s main point. And to grasp the main point of the entire poem, it helps to first grasp the main points of each of the stanzas. So I investigate each stanza with the chief goal in mind: What is the main idea here?

Song 2:8-9: Why is her leading statement regarding “the voice” — and not the character, presence, or intimacy — “of my beloved”? Apparently, she is very much looking forward to what he will say to her in Song 2:10-15. What she daydreams about is those things he will say to her. But in these introductory verses, the emphasis is on the distance between them. He comes … He stands behind … gazing through … looking through … A barrier of miles separates them at first. And even when he arrives at her home, a barrier of brick and mortar continues to separate them. So she wants him close, but he can’t get too close yet.

Photo by **Maksim Kolykhanov** from **Pexels**

Song 2:10-13: The bookends on his first stanza appear to be the main idea: “Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away” (Song 2:10, 13). Everything in between is in support, providing the reasons he believes will persuade her to come away with him. For him, it is no longer time to avoid awakening love (Song 2:7); the season for love is in full bloom. It’s as though he says [translated into modern jargon]: “I like you. Do you like me? Check one: YES or NO.”

Song 2:14-15: The second stanza of his speech continues his persuasion. First, he proves to be a patient and gentle suitor, cherishing her like a precious dove hiding within the cliffside. Second, he asks for help with finding the things that will spoil their vineyards. Commentaries inform me that the verbs in v.15 are plural, so he is no longer talking to her alone, but to a group of others — most likely the daughters of Jerusalem. And it doesn’t matter whether verse 15 is spoken by the man (as suggested by the ESV headings) or the woman (as suggested by CSB headings): either way, the point is that this couple invites others to hold them accountable and help them protect one another’s bodies (as “vineyards” have been metaphors of bodies thus far in the Song – Song 1:6, 2:14).

Song 2:16-17: She describes their relationship as one of mutual possession of one another (v.16), which sounds a lot like the arrival and consummation of marriage. However, in v.17, she wants him to “turn” and do his gazelle-thing on cleft mountains — at least until the morning comes. Some think the “cleft mountains” are a metaphor for her breasts. This makes sense, as his gazelle-ness on mountains is clearly a picture of marital bliss in Song 8:14. However, in Song 2:17, the main verb is the imperative to “turn.” And the reference to “mountains” connects back to where he came from (Song 2:8). So it’s more likely that, in contrast to chapter 8, in this poem she recognizes that marriage has not yet come. They are not yet married, and they must say goodbye at the end of their time together.

Main Point of Song 2:8-17: This relationship is not yet a marriage relationship, but it is clearly heading in that direction. She daydreams about his invitation to join her in the season of awakening love. But though it is spring time, it is not yet morning. They are beginning to “possess” one another (to treat one another differently from how they treat others), but they are not yet fully there. Separate togetherness is the unfortunate reality of their relationship (Song 2:8-9). He makes a risk request (Song 2:10-15). She has clarity on the desired, though not yet present, result (Song 2:16-17).

Her Dream

Song 3:1-4: We now move into a full-fledged dream, as she “seeks” him on her bed by night. She can’t find him in her bed (Song 3:1). She can’t find him in the streets (Song 3:2). She can’t find him among the night watchmen (Song 3:3). But when she finally finds him, she clings to him and refuses to let go (Song 3:4). Until she brings him into her mother’s chamber (apparently quite romantic and not awkward at all in that culture) — so her dream’s end goal is the full consummation of marriage. She doesn’t want to have to say goodbye at the end of the evening any longer!

Main point of Song 3:1-4: She aligns her dreams for the relationship with the direction in which it ought to head: toward marriage and the intimacy of the marriage bed.

Her Charge

Song 3:5: She puts the young women of Jerusalem under oath not to enter this season of love until the right time. She understands how difficult and stressful that can be, but she understands how much it is worth it.

Main point of Song 3:5: Forsake all counterfeits to such love (which is heading in the direction of God-honoring marriage).

Conclusion

I’ve written this post according to the stream of my consciousness as I worked to figure out the main point of each stanza. But I’ve arrived at the following interpretive outline:

Godly relationships pursue a clear and selfless direction – Song 2:8-17
1. The unfortunate reality of separate togetherness – Song 2:8-9
2. The risky request to join the season of awakening love – Song 2:10-15
3. The desired result of marital possession, which is almost but not yet here – Song 2:16-17
Align your dreams of romance with that direction – Song 3:1-4
Forsake all counterfeits – Song 3:5

How does all of this add up into a main point for the entire poem? Main point: A couple’s purpose in pursuing a romantic relationship ought to be the movement from separated togetherness to the mutual possession of marriage.

In a future post, I’ll walk through my thinking on connecting this main point to the gospel of Jesus Christ, and then applying it to today.

The Argument of Hebrews 3:1-6

July 28, 2021 By Peter Krol

I appreciate Mike Leake’s reflection on Hebrews 3:1-6, where he walks through the passage’s argument in plain language. Take a gander.

When I read Hebrews 3:1-6 I tend to get that glazed over look on my face. It’s not that I don’t understand the words or even the structure of the sentences. The overall point is pretty simple; namely, Jesus is greater than Moses. But when I’ve read it I’ve always felt like I was missing something.
Why is the author of Hebrews telling us this? How does this serve his argument? I know that Jesus is better than Moses, but what is all this talk about building a house?

Check it out!

Discourse Analysis of the New Testament Writings: Profitably Intense

July 9, 2021 By Peter Krol

Discourse Anaylsis of the New Testament Writings, edited by Todd A. Scacewater, is an ambitious text that seeks to explain the structure and chief arguments of every book of the New Testament. I am grateful to Fontes Press for a complimentary copy given in exchange for an honest review.

Each book of the New Testament gets a chapter, where the contributor seeks to map out that book’s structure and chief arguments. Before doing so, however, each contributor takes a few pages to describe their methodology for “discourse analysis” (which is essentially the process of mapping out a book’s structure and chief arguments). A variety of contributors employ a variety of analytical methods, though many of them overlap, sharing the same theoretical influences.

But will this book help the ordinary believer in their Bible study?

Assessment

For many years, I have enthusiastically commended David Dorsey’s Literary Structure of the Old Testament as providing much help with the literary structures of every book of the Old Testament. I have long hoped for a companion volume to recommend that does a similar thing for the New Testament. Does Scacewater’s edition fulfill that role?

Yes and no.

Yes, it does complement Dorsey’s work — in that I can and will regularly reference this book when I seek to get a broad overview of an NT book. There is much insight here worth gleaning, and this book is well crafted to encourage us readers to dive back into the Scripture ourselves and continue to observe, observe, observe.

But sadly, no, it doesn’t complement Dorsey’s work — in that this book is clearly written with a strongly academic audience in mind. Dorsey is academically robust, yet still comprehensible to average Bible students. But the contributors to Scacewater’s work use a very high degree of technical terminology, both theological and grammatical, without defining terms. Many of them quote the Greek NT text without translating it. And they presume a high degree of background knowledge in the field of discourse analysis.

Therefore, I am happy to recommend this book as worthy of your time if you’re wishing to work hard and be stretched far. For a sample, see this reflection on the state of structural studies stimulated for me by the chapter on John’s gospel. But for most folks seeking to study the Scriptures, I will not be recommending this book as a matter of routine.

Finally, I’ll mention that one of the book’s endorsers, Stephen E. Runge, wrote of the varied approaches to discourse analysis demonstrated from chapter to chapter: “Some succeed more than others.” I heartily agree. Some of the contributions are not as clear as they could be in presenting a clear argument or distinct structure for some of the NT books. I found some others not especially helpful. But I find the chapters on the following NT books particularly strong and insightful: Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Romans, Ephesians, Colossians, Hebrews, James, and 1 Peter. I would more quickly recommend Discourse Analysis to someone seeking help with one of those particular books. (And in the interest of full disclosure: I have not yet finished reading the book. I’ve made it through 1 Peter and believe that has given me enough exposure to write an accurate review. As I finish the remaining chapters, I may add to the list in this paragraph.)

You can find Discourse Analysis of the New Testament Writings on Amazon or directly through Fontes Press.

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On the Road to Emmaus

October 16, 2020 By Peter Krol

Luke ends his gospel with a masterpiece of a story that has captured our imaginations for millennia. And the story is so vivid and well-told that, if we’re not careful, its artistry can easily distract us from its chief message. I imagine you’ve heard speculation about whether the “other disciple” is Cleopas’s wife. And perhaps you’ve wished to be part of the greatest Bible study of all time on that 6-mile walk. Or maybe you’ve wondered how Jesus could simply vanish into thin air. And maybe you’ve been inspired by the eagerness of the two disciples to return to Jerusalem “that same hour,” after their long walk home on that long day.

These matters are all worth considering, and they are rightly in the corporate consciousness of those who read this story today. But allow me to model how a few key principles will help us to penetrate the outer edges of the story to better grasp its main point. (In what follows, I seek to apply the principles of narrative plot structure explained in this post.)

Plot Structure

With even an elementary grasp on how plot structure works, you know to look for the introduction of conflict. Everything before that conflict is simply setting the scene.

So we read, beginning at Luke 24:13, and we’re told of “two of them” going to Emmaus, about 7 miles from Jerusalem. They were talking about everything that had happened. While they were talking, Jesus himself draws near and goes with them. None of this is tense. There is no conflict yet, so all these details provide the setting for what is about to transpire.

Then Luke goes out of his way to tell us, “But their eyes were kept from recognizing him” (Luke 24:16). Now the story finally feels tense. Now there is a sense of uncertainty, of conflict between what is happening and what they perceive is happening.

In particular, we see a conflict between the disciples and their perceptions (your English teacher may have called this “man vs. himself”). The issue this story wants to address is: Can they recognize Jesus? And if so, how?

Now don’t get distracted. I can observe as well as you can that the passive voice is used: “their eyes were kept…” But don’t let that distract you into speculation on divine sovereignty vs. free will, nor into questions about why God would prevent them from recognizing Jesus. Much of the purpose of the passive voice is to avoid such matters entirely. Narrators typically use passive voice when they wish to direct your attention away from the person doing the action. They want you to gaze instead simply at what is happening to the object(s) of the action.

Skimming through the story for now, we should look for the climax. Where is the conflict (they can’t recognize Jesus) reversed? Luke does all the heavy lifting for us here, making it as clear as possible: “And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him” (Luke 24:31).

So everything between verses 16 and 31 serves as “rising action.” The events recounted here are heightening the tension and magnifying the conflict. And the material in verses 32-35 provide the resolution (32-34) and new setting (35). Remember, our opening setting involved two of them walking away from Jerusalem discussing the events surrounding Jesus’ resurrection. On account of the conflict, rising action, and climax, we have reached a new state of affairs where these two folks are no longer asking and wondering, but telling of what happened. And more particularly, they can proclaim “how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread” (Luke 24:35).

Approaching the Main Point

So our simple identification of conflict and climax strongly suggests that Luke’s main point in this episode has something to do with recognizing the risen Jesus. Of course, that’s not quite enough to go on just yet (it’s only a short phrase and not a truth proposition that ought to be believed or obeyed). But it sets us in the right direction.

We can look within the story’s action to discover that the testimony of the Hebrew Scripture plays a major role in such recognition. And there is something more going on than simply identifying Jesus by name in a lineup (bare “recognition” of Jesus’ name or face). Luke is communicating quite profoundly that they failed to recognize resurrection as being fundamental to the person and work of the Messiah. And this was not a problem of education but a problem of faith and of biblical interpretation (Luke 24:25-26).

That’s as far as I’ll go for now. I don’t want to simply tell you what I think the main point is. That would defeat the purpose of trying to help you figure it out for yourself.

But I trust my reflections here have done enough to show you that their eyes, while on the text, had been focused in all the wrong places. Perhaps we ought to avoid the same error when we study these Scriptures ourselves.

The Main Point of Luke’s Gospel

October 18, 2019 By Peter Krol

Would you like to study Luke’s gospel? Whether you do it for your own edification or to lead a group of friends or students, you must grasp the big picture. Fail to grasp the big picture, and you will get the pieces wrong.

Too often, we study the Bible like we’re United States Navy SEALs. We infiltrate the book via HALO—high altitude, low opening—jump (learn just enough about the book’s basic historical background). We parachute in to the landing zone (the chosen text) and conduct our mission to secure the asset (a nugget of truth or practical application). We then pursue extraction under cover of darkness and radio HQ with the “all clear” (bridging contexts from the ancient world to today).

And we do this week after week, chapter after chapter, without coming away with any real grasp on the argument made by the author, or his intentions for his original audience. Therefore, like Navy SEALs, we can accomplish a narrowly-defined mission. But we haven’t taken the time to assimilate to the culture we’re infiltrating. We don’t understand that foreign nation’s political process, class consciousness, economic aspirations, folk tales, or hopes and dreams for the future. We’re not able to represent the interests of this foreign land (in this case, the book of Luke) nor serve as competent ambassadors to our own (as we seek to apply this ancient text in our setting).

What’s at Stake

You’ve probably got some favorite or familiar passages from Luke. Maybe you’ve taught or preached them to various audiences.

The Christmas story
Simeon’s and Anna’s testimony regarding the infant Jesus
Jesus’ preaching of Isaiah in the synagogue at Nazareth
Simon’s great catch of fish
The good Samaritan
Martha serving while Mary sits at Jesus’ feet
Sending out the 70
Repent or perish
The prodigal son
The rich man and Lazarus
The disabled woman healed
The Last Supper
The crucifixion
The resurrection
Walking down the road to Emmaus
Explaining the Old Testament to the disciples

But can you confidently or competently explain what Luke meant by these episodes? Can you explain how they fit into his structure, or how they drive his main idea home? Can you identify why Luke cared enough to include these stories, or why Luke’s take on them differs from that of other gospel writers?

If the answer to any of those questions is “no,” how can you be certain you haven’t been using these stories the way a drunk uses a lamppost—more for support than for illumination? Can you be sure these words have been speaking to you, and you haven’t been dictating to them?

Rounding Up the Data

This is why I’ve spent many weeks overviewing this lengthiest of all New Testament books. That length can be daunting enough to dissuade us from a full-book overview and make us more comfortable to simply parachute in to a chapter here and a chapter there.

So here is where we’ve been so far in this overview:

Let me remind you of the train-of-thought outline I proposed for the book:

Christianity is on trial, and this orderly account will help you to be certain regarding what you’ve heard about the movement – 1:1-4
The Defendant’s Credentials – 1:5-4:13
1. The Salvation of God – 1-2
2. The Son of God – 3:1-4:13
The Defendant’s Fundamentals – 4:14-9:50
1. His Teaching – 4:14-6:49
2. His Offer of Salvation Through Faith – 7:1-8:56
3. His Followers – 9:1-50
The Defendant’s Goals – 9:51-19:27
1. Proclaiming His Kingdom – 9:51-10:37
2. Growing His Kingdom – 10:38-13:21
3. Numbering His Citizens – 13:22-17:10
4. Timing His Kingdom – 17:11-19:27
The Defendant’s Vindication – 19:28-24:53
1. Judaism is Guilty – 19:28-21:38
2. Jesus is Innocent – 22:1-23:56
3. Israel’s Salvation has Arrived – 24:1-53

Proposing a Main Point

All that work leads me to the following main point:

The hope of Israel, God’s plan of salvation for the world, has arrived in Jesus.

Now I’m not saying that I’ve found the perfect or the absolute best way to state Luke’s main point that couldn’t be improved upon. It’s still possible that I’ve missed something or could refine this further. This sentence simply represents an effort to pull together all the data and be as clear and succinct as possible.

But as far as I can tell from my study, this statement captures the essence of what Luke aims to communicate. It encapsulates the entire train of thought from the book’s structure. It takes account of both primary (Theophilus) and secondary audiences (children of Abraham). It fits with the very purposes we can reconstruct from Luke’s intentions.

As we now study any and every passage within the gospel, we should be able to see how that passage advances Luke’s agenda. Some passages will riff on the hope of Israel. Others will expound on that hope as God’s plan of salvation. Others will direct our attention to see this hope of Israel being not merely for Israel but for the world. And yet others will land on the person of Jesus being himself the arrival point for all these hopes.

But when we consider each passage’s placement in the structure of the argument, and how that placement serves the overall agenda—we’ll be in the best place possible to grasp the author’s intent in that passage. Let’s not read our favorite stories from Luke in a vacuum, as though they were dropped from heaven for our next Sunday school lesson.

Let’s make sure we’ll have no need to be ashamed, because we handle these words of truth rightly.

Do You Handle the Word Rightly When You Teach Children?

October 16, 2019 By Peter Krol

“Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who has no need to be ashamed, rightly handling the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

We think of pastors needing to handle the word of truth rightly. We think of seminary professors and Sunday school teachers needing to handle the word of truth rightly. But do we think of parents, or anyone else who teaches children, as needing to handle the word of truth rightly?

Alison Mitchell thinks so. In a fabulous article at GoThereFor.com, she argues that 2 Tim 2:15 applies to all Bible teachers, including those who would teach children. Including those who teach children Bible stories. Including those who read storybook Bibles to children.

To help you obey this command, Mitchell offers 6 suggestions:

Always start with the text.
Be cautious about addition.
Be thoughtful about subtraction.
Build your application from the main teaching point.
Choose supportive visuals and activities.
Be careful with published material.

Her counsel pierces, soothes, and motivates God-honoring excellence. All throughout, she encourages us to make sure our teaching materials focus on the main point of our biblical text, and not merely on a creative re-telling of the plot. The main points are the main points, and must be communicated as such. Here is a taste of Mitchell’s counsel:

“When considering an addition to the story, ask yourself whether it supports or detracts from the main point, and whether it is really necessary. Children won’t know what has been added and what hasn’t; they simply accept the story as they hear it. If they find out later that only some of what they heard came from Scripture, they may also end up questioning the rest of what they were taught. This means I tend to add very little.”

And another:

“So check re-told Bible stories carefully. The authors of children’s story books are usually gifted, creative storytellers. There’s a lot we can learn from their gifts. But, in my experience, creative storytellers often add to Bible accounts. So check carefully, comparing their version with the Bible text. If there are only a few small changes or additions, you may be able to adapt the story and use it successfully. But if you find that too much has changed, you’ll need to tell the story yourself or find a more accurate story book.”

The “checking” she suggests extends even to the illustrations. For example, if an illustration of Daniel in the lions’ den portrays Daniel as a young man, it is not being faithful to the text.

There is much food for thought here, which is well worth your time.

Check it out!

The Usefulness of Luke’s Gospel

October 11, 2019 By Peter Krol

I’ve now written a number of posts presenting an overview of Luke’s gospel. I’ve addressed numerous background issues, but not simply for historical knowledge. My purpose has been to lay the groundwork for a fruitful study of Luke’s gospel. And for such study to bear fruit, we must be able to grasp the main point of the entire book. All the discussion on genre, audience, occasion, and structure has been working to this end: proposing a main point for the book.

And I have one last issue to cover before I can finally propose that main point. How did Luke expect his book to be used?

Two Audiences, Two Uses

As I’ve covered so far, Luke has at least two audiences in mind. His primary, explicit audience is the Roman official named Theophilus, serving some role or other in the Apostle Paul’s trial before Caesar (Luke 1:1-4). And the secondary, implicit audience is the Jews—both ethnic Jews who need to repent before it’s too late, and spiritual Jews, who become such by trusting in Christ.

So it’s not difficult to imagine two main ways Luke might expect people to make use of his book.

He wants Theophilus to read, understand, and consider the evidence in support of Paul’s innocence. Luke wants him to corroborate the testimony, check out the source documents, and confirm the facts. In short, Luke writes his book in order to defend Paul.

And he also wants those who would be children of Abraham to read, understand, and consider the evidence in support of Christianity’s legitimacy. Luke wants both Jews and Gentiles to corroborate the testimony, check out the source documents, and confirm the facts. In short, Luke writes his book in order to defend Christianity.

For more information, you may be interested in checking out Daniel Wallace’s overview article on Luke which argues further for this dual purpose of Luke’s gospel.

Two-fold Usefulness

With Paul on trial, Christianity is on trial. And Luke (and the Holy Spirit who inspired him) feels no embarrassment going on record in the Roman court system to stake his claim that this movement is the real deal. Christianity’s God is real. Christianity’s beginnings are real. Christianity’s truth claims are real. And Christianity’s ringleaders are trustworthy.

Luke expects his work to be cross-examined and thoroughly vetted. So go right ahead. Consider these claims. Look for holes in the testimony. Review the cited documentation. Give it your best shot; Luke is not afraid of political, historical, or scientific verification. He’s presented his material in an orderly fashion to make it easier to cross-examine and verify.

And in the end, the evidence will, in fact, show two things:

Paul is innocent.
Salvation is here.

The first conclusion is of historical interest to Luke. He wants his friend to go free.

The second conclusion is of apologetic interest to Luke. He wants the world to be saved from sin and attain to the hope of resurrection.

With this in mind, we’re ready to finally craft a main point for the book. I plan to do so next week, when I’ll also show how the main point ought to guide your study of each passage on your way through the book.

Examples of Jesus in the Old Testament

July 24, 2019 By Peter Krol

Jesse Johnson did us a great favor by giving 6 thoughtful examples of how to preach Jesus from Old Testament texts, where “the coming Messiah” is not the main point. Even when a text doesn’t directly predict the coming of Christ, we ought to make sure we see it climax in the good news about Jesus’ death and resurrection, and/or the message of forgiveness being preached to all nations.

Johnson’s examples are good models of first determining the author’s main point for his original audience, and second connecting that main point to the good news about Jesus. This prevents forced or tenuous gospel connections that fail to land with transformative power. See my post on this topic for further explanation.

Johnson’s examples are:

Leviticus 13 (leprosy)
Judges 19 (dismembered concubine)
Genesis 11 (Babel)
1 Kings 18 (showdown on Mt. Carmel)
1 Samuel 14 (Jonathan eating honey)
Proverbs 5 (sexual immorality)

Check it out!

How Plot Structure Helps with John 4

July 12, 2019 By Peter Krol

I led a Bible study this week on John 4. Not only the woman at the well (John 4:1-42), but the entire chapter. And I once dared to call plot structure the most import tool for observing the structure of a narrative. So I decided to put my money where my mouth was, and invest my limited mental energy in exploring the plot structure of this chapter.

The results got me farther down the road than any other tool I tried. Not only was this tool the most important one for observing the structure. It ended up also being the most important tool for helping me to interpret the narrative and determine the author’s main point.

Let me show you how it worked.

Stuck in the Details

Without handrails, John 4 is the sort of narrative that makes Bible students feel like they’re swimming in details. And great is the temptation for premature application. There is much in this chapter to provoke, stimulate, and inspire. All you have to do is pick your favorite from among the proffered topics and you’re free to camp there as long as you like.

We could focus on the satisfaction Jesus promises with living water (John 4:13-14). We could focus on sexual morality (John 4:17-18) or Jesus’ omniscience (John 4:16, 19). We could focus on true worship (John 4:21-24). We could focus on evangelism (John 4:28-29, 39-40). We could focus on spiritual dullness or failure to evangelize (John 4:35-38). We could focus on Jesus’ obedience to his Father (John 4:34). We could focus on Jesus’ experience of rejection (John 4:44-45) or his power to heal at a distance (John 4:50-53). We could focus on the nature of belief (John 4:39-42, 48, 50, 53) or the authority of Messiah (John 4:25-26).

So many goodies. So much raw material for theological exploration. And all of it would be true, biblical, practical, and engaging.

But why did John include all these things? What was his main idea?

Getting Unstuck

The best way to see how all these goodies fit together is to analyze the text according to its plot structure.

The first conflict is introduced in John 4:7-9. It must have been important to John that his readers understand the conflict, because he chooses to pop us on the nose with two parenthetical statements (the disciples were gone, and Jews don’t deal with Samaritans). Perhaps without the explanation, the nature of the conflict would have been subtle enough that his audience might have missed it. In short, the conflict, as John introduces it, is Jesus vs. cultural expectations of identity. Jesus does what nobody would have expected him to do: Speak to this woman, alone.
If that is the conflict, this suggests that John 4:1-6 is simply the setting to paint the picture for us. Jesus wishes to escape the Pharisees, who might compel a competition between him and John. And he “had to” pass through Samaria to get away.
So where is the reversal? Where are the cultural expectations of identity flipped around? John 4:26: “I who speak to you am he.” Here is the first climax.
Therefore, we can consider the intervening verses (John 4:10-25) as part of the rising action intended to heighten the tension and build toward climax.
- These verses are not unimportant. There is deep and significant teaching here. But, according to the way John has chosen to tell his story, this material is subordinate to the climax of verse 26.
- In John 4:10-15, Jesus has asked her for a drink, but he clarifies that, really, she should have asked him for a drink.
- In John 4:16, the conflict expands. Now Jesus is taking on not only the cultural expectations of his identity but also this woman’s worship. He shines light to expose her evil deeds (John 3:20-21), likely to see whether she’ll come out or withdraw further into cover of darkness.
- In John 4:17-25, the action rises as they now discuss true and false worship. Again, this material is valuable; I don’t think it’s unimportant. But for John, it’s part of a narrative device intended to heighten the tension and build to climax. We must keep in mind what he’s building toward: Who is Jesus, with respect to what his culture expects of him?
After the climax in John 4:26, the situation resolves into a new setting (John 4:27-30), a new state of affairs: One where Jesus’ own disciples marvel at his behavior (again, completely in conflict with their cultural expectations), and the woman testifies to Jesus’ new-found (to her) identity.

So John 4:1-30 gives us one full cycle of plot structure, with a sense of resolution and a new state of affairs. I’ll abbreviate my commentary on the remaining two cycles.

Second plot arc (John 4:27-42):

John 4:27-30: setting, described above.
John 4:31-32: next conflict introduced. Jesus vs. disciples’ perception of the world.
John 4:33-37: rising action. Q&A. Jesus takes their eyes off physical food to the spiritual reality of harvest.
John 4:38: climax. Disciples’ mistaken perception reversed as they enter into another’s labor (as they now reap that for which they did not labor).
John 4:39-42: new setting. Samaritans believe that Jesus is savior of the world; they ask him to stay.

Third plot arc (John 4:39-54):

John 4:39-42: setting, described above.
John 4:43-46: more setting. John raises the question of response. We ought to expect, with Jesus, a poor response to him from his own people (cf. John 1:11, 4:44).
John 4:47-48: next conflict introduced. On the surface, we might think the conflict is Jesus vs. illness. But with Jesus’ first response (John 4:48) John highlights a different conflict instead: Jesus vs. unbelief (defined as trusting more in signs than in the savior). The surface conflict with illness is merely the literary mechanism for presenting the true conflict with unbelief.
John 4:49-50a: rising action, where the Roman official requests Jesus’ presence but receives his word of promise instead.
John 4:50b: climax. The official believes Jesus’ word, even without a visible sign. He goes on his way without Jesus’ company.
John 4:51-53a: resolution. The official gets proof of his son’s healing, to confirm the word of promise from Jesus.
John 4:53b-54: new setting. Belief spreads in Roman official’s household.

Implications

Let me close with a few principles for mapping plot structure:

Because the categories and lines can seem fuzzy in any given story, I find it most helpful to identify first the conflict and climax. The conflict is the point at which the narrative introduces tension. The climax is the point at which that tension is fixed or reversed. Those two points are typically the clearest elements of the plot.
Then the material in between the introduction of the conflict and the climax falls into place as rising action, serving to expand on or intensify the tension produced by the conflict.
Almost everything that comes before the conflict is simply setting. The details matter for the sake of the story, but they will likely not be as crucial to the text’s theology or application.
And the payout for interpretation comes when we focus our attention on the climax and resolution to determine the author’s main point.

In John 4, we see three arcs with climaxes:

The first arc climaxes (John 4:26) with the immoral Samaritan woman hearing and, in the resolution, trusting in Jesus’ identity as Messiah.
The second arc climaxes (John 4:38) with the disciples entering into Jesus’ labor, to reap the harvest with him.
The third arc climaxes (John 4:50b) with the powerful Roman official trusting Jesus’ word of promise, without any visible sign.

How does this help with discovering John’s main point? The religious insiders need help to perceive God’s salvation extending to religious outsiders. This Jesus is not only King of the Jews. He is the Savior of the world (John 4:42), rejected by his own but believed on in the world. Not even Nicodemus the Pharisee is described as believing just yet (John 3); but any outsider of any race or status who trusts Jesus’ identity and word of promise can become his child. This chapter illustrates, with flamboyant color, the truth that God so loved the world (John 3:16-17).

This main point fits perfectly with the flow of thought in this section of the gospel:

In John 2, the messianic kingdom has arrived!
In John 3, we see how to enter the kingdom.
In John 4, we see who enters the kingdom.

I find it is well worth my time to simply draw a plot arc and use it to help me grasp biblical narratives. Perhaps it can be useful to you as well.

Understanding the Story of Joseph in Genesis

August 23, 2017 By Peter Krol

Samuel Emadi wrote a piece on the story of Joseph in Genesis 37-50. Sometimes we read that story and zero in on a few ideas about innocent suffering or the sovereignty of God. But Emadi does a great job examining the full narrative and following its train of thought.

Moses gives Joseph more time in Genesis than he does any other character—a striking fact given the significance of Genesis’s other main characters: Adam, Noah, and the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This prominence is even more striking considering the apparent insignificance of Joseph in the rest of Scripture.

What then do we make of the Joseph story? Why is it so prominent in Genesis?

Many Christians fail to notice how Joseph’s story contributes to the Genesis narrative and to redemptive history in general. Within Reformed circles, preachers often use Joseph merely to illustrate how divine sovereignty and human responsibility intersect, focusing almost exclusively on Genesis 50:20: “What you meant for evil God meant for good.” Certainly, we are meant to read Joseph’s life in light of this verse. God’s sovereignty is a major theme in Genesis 37–50, and Joseph himself intends for us to interpret his life in light of God’s providence (cf. Gen. 45:1–9).

But reducing the story to an illustration for the doctrine of compatibilism misses the rich contribution Joseph’s life makes to the storyline of Scripture. God’s sovereignty figures largely in the Joseph story because God wants us to see how he puts himself in impossible situations and yet finds a way to keep his covenant promises. Joseph highlights how God’s providence secures God’s promises.

In this light, we can see how Joseph uniquely contributes to Scripture’s opening book.

Check it out!

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