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Teach Bible Study to a 2-Year-Old

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Child-twoI’ve stated elsewhere that we can teach OIA Bible study to anyone of any age.  It’s great to start ’em young.

Two-year-old children are terrific, not terrible.  They’re learning so much so quickly, and they’re ready to feast on the bread of life.  Jesus wants them with him (Matt 19:13-15), so let’s not get in the way.

How can you take advantage of this time of life?  I won’t give a comprehensive manual for parenting, but I hope to help you inspire these little ones to treasure God’s Knowable Word and learn to study it.

1.  Read Scripture

Believe it or not, Bible study involves the Bible.  God’s Word reveals his heart (2 Pet 1:21) and pierces ours (Heb 4:12).  It shapes us for glory (2 Tim 3:16-17).  And it wasn’t written just for adults (Eph 6:1-3, Col 3:20).

But sometimes we give our children a diet of caffeine-free, low-fat story book Bibles, and we neglect the nutritious, life-giving, spiritually fattening, satisfactorily scrumptious, obedience-empowering, grace-delighting Word of God.

Children’s Bibles are just great.  I like this one for two-year-olds (although sometimes it can use a stronger connection to the gospel).  But children’s story Bibles are supplements.  Not the meal.

Read the Bible regularly with your child or Sunday school class.

2.  Focus on observation

Young children notice much more than we think they do.  Just look at how much they imitate us.

While preaching a sermon last Sunday, I saw my two-year-old daughter copying my hand motions.  The accuracy of her gestures threatened my composure and confirmed my suspicions.  She catches far more than she lets on, and I’m in a position to hone her fledgling prowess.

Read just a few verses, and expect the children to notice stuff.  Ask them about what they heard and have them repeat the key details.  Then read a few more verses and repeat the process.

3.  Ask basic questions

It seems obvious, but it’s easy to neglect, especially if older children are also present.  I find myself often assuming the youngest child is “still a baby,” and I speak exclusively to the older children.  But the youngest needs practice, too.  “How many men did Jesus heal?”  “Why did he heal them?  Because they were _____ [sick].”  “How many came back to thank him [hold up one finger]?”

4.  Take advantage of the “Why” phase

By the time they reach 3 years of age, many children learn how to ask “why” and never turn back.  They ask it all the time.  Don’t be annoyed by it.  In fact, you can beat them to it.

“Why did Jesus die?  So we could have ______ [life].”  “Why do we need Jesus?  Because our hearts are ______ [sick].”

5.  Ask leading questions

It’s okay if your questions have obvious answers.  The repetition over time is more important than unique insight on the child’s part.  Young children excel at memorization, and asking the same questions over and over builds their foundation.

In our house, the mantra is: “How does God want you to obey?”  Answer: right away, all the way, and with a cheerful heart.

That’s followed by: “And why did Jesus die?”  Answer: so we could have life.

Every Bible study connects in some way to these two questions.

When it comes to training my children, I don’t want to be original.  I want to be useful.

6.  Give them Jesus

They need Jesus more than anything – more than Bible knowledge, more than life lessons, and more than good behavior.  Even at age two, children can learn that “Jesus” is usually the right answer to any question.

Question: What other ideas do you have?  What resources have you found helpful?

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How to Navigate the Middle of Luke

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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.

Image by Ales Krivec from Pixabay

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:

  1. Luke reminds us that Jesus is on the way to Jerusalem.
  2. Somebody asks a weighty question.
  3. 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:

  1. How we must proclaim his kingdom (Luke 9:51-10:37)
  2. How to grow as citizens of the kingdom (Luke 10:38-13:21)
  3. Who is a true citizen, and who is not (Luke 13:22-17:10)
  4. 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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Can You Identify This Quote from the Bible?

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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.”

The Structure of Luke’s Gospel

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Luke wrote a two-volume history of the early Christian movement to Theophilus, a Roman official who likely had some role in Paul’s trial before Caesar. The charges against Paul guided Luke in his selection of themes, and led him to appeal to the Jews to turn around before their doom fell upon them.

So how does Luke structure his gospel? How does he arrange his material in order to persuade both the Romans to acquit Paul and the world (including Jews) to receive God’s salvation?

Major Divisions

Matthew uses five major speeches to shape his gospel. Mark uses disciples and predictions. John uses signs and conversations. But Luke’s primary mechanism for signaling literary divisions is his use of setting, especially geography.

After a short preface (Luke 1:1-4), Luke opens with a statement of time and place (Luke 1:5). Since he’s presenting an “orderly account” (Luke 1:3), he goes out of his way to refer to his sources and extensive research. So we ought to expect such organization to continue.

In Luke 4:14-15, Luke tells us that Jesus returned to Galilee, and he gives us a summary statement of Jesus’ work there (“he taught in their synagogues”). Such summary statements appear to serve as Luke’s main signals that a section is beginning or ending. And Jesus remains in Galilee until Luke 9:50.

In Luke 9:51, Jesus sets his face to go to Jerusalem. From here until Luke 19:27, Luke peppers his narrative with reminders that Jesus was “on the way” (Luke 10:38, 13:22, 17:11).1

In Luke 19:28, Jesus finally goes up to Jerusalem, and he remains there until the end of the book.

So Luke’s geographical markers give us the following major divisions for the book:

  1. Preface (Luke 1:1-4)
  2. Groundwork for ministry (Luke 1:5-4:13)
  3. Ministry in Galilee (Luke 4:14-9:50)
  4. Ministry on the way to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51-19:27)
  5. Ministry in Jerusalem (Luke 19:28-24:53)

Now Luke is a long book. Can we subdivide these major sections any further?

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

Luke 1:5-4:13

The early chapters begin with scenes that alternate between John and Jesus:

  • Prediction of John’s birth – Luke 1:5-25
    • Prediction of Jesus’ birth – Luke 1:26-38
      • Celebration of the two coming children, who will bring salvation – Luke 1:39-56
  • John’s birth – Luke 1:57-80
    • Jesus’ birth – Luke 2:1-20
      • Celebration of Jesus’ coming, which brings salvation – Luke 2:21-52

Then we get another major statement of setting (Luke 3:1-2) and another alternation between John and Jesus:

  • John’s baptism and credentials, preparing for the true son of God – Luke 3:3-20
    • Jesus’ baptism and credentials as the Son of God – Luke 3:21-4:13

So Luke’s first major division has two subdivisions:

  1. The salvation of God – Luke 1:5-2:52
  2. The Son of God – Luke 3:1-4:13

Luke 4:14-9:50

I’m frankly uncertain regarding how to subdivide this section. I’ve come across two schemes that both make sense.

One framework divides the text thematically:

  1. Jesus’ teaching – Luke 4:14-6:49
  2. Jesus’ offer of salvation through faith – Luke 7:1-8:56
  3. Jesus’ followers – Luke 9:1-50

This framework fits with the content of the material. The statement, “After he had finished all his sayings in the hearing of the people” (Luke 7:1), sure sounds like a concluding transition statement into a new section. And it’s exactly the sort of thing Luke would say to “order” his account. But there is no clearly corresponding transition statement at Luke 8:56 or Luke 9:1 to suggest a division there. But “faith” is certainly a major theme in chapters 7-8. And Luke 9 appears to switch topics.

So a second possible framework is worth considering:

  1. Jesus’ first tour of Galilee – Luke 4:14-7:50
  2. Jesus’ second tour of Galilee, with his disciples – Luke 8:1-56
  3. Jesus’ third tour of Galilee, sending his disciples – Luke 9:1-50

The best evidence in favor of this framework is the presence of clearer literary signals in the text (Jesus’ “going out” or “sending out” at the beginning of each of the three sections). The downside to this framework is that it can be difficult to see a unified message in each of the sections.

So I prefer the first framework, but I could easily be persuaded to reconsider.

Luke 9:51-19:27

In this part of the book, it’s easier to identify clear subdivisions, because of Luke’s reminders that Jesus was “on the way” (Luke 10:38, 13:22, 17:11).1 These are not incidental statements without purpose. They serve as literary markers for the sections. In addition, each of the four sections opens with a question from someone for Jesus, and the rest of the section proceeds to answer the question.

  1. Do you want us to call down fire to consume them? – Luke 9:51-10:37
  2. Do you not care that I’m left to serve alone? – Luke 10:38-13:21
  3. Will those who are saved be few? – Luke 13:22-17:10
  4. When will the kingdom of God come? – Luke 17:11-19:27

The outline will be more memorable and concise, though, if we use the answers instead of the questions:

  1. Proclaiming his kingdom – Luke 9:51-10:37
  2. Growing his kingdom – Luke 10:38-13:21
  3. Numbering his citizens – Luke 13:22-17:10
  4. Timing his kingdom – Luke 17:11-19:27

Luke 19:28-24:53

Once again, we ought to expect some signals from Luke to show us the “orderly” nature of his account. So what do we find?

First, Jesus draws near to Jerusalem by drawing near to Bethphage and Bethany, at “the mount that is called Olivet” (Luke 19:28-29). So as we look for structural markers, we should look for a corresponding summary statement of setting. And we find it in Luke 21:37-38, where Jesus was “teaching in the temple” every day, but retiring to “the mount called Olivet” every night. So Luke 19:28-21:38 make up the first subdivision. In between these bookends, we see the content of Jesus’ “teaching in the temple”—a condemnation of Israel’s current generation.

Second, the next verses tell us that the Passover drew near, and the chief priests and scribes were seeking how to put him to death (Luke 22:1-2). This setting reaches its completion, of course, when Jesus is dead and seemingly done away with on the feast’s Day of Preparation (Luke 23:54-56). In between, we’re told repeatedly that Jesus was innocent and undeserving of this conspiracy (Luke 23:4, 14, 22, 41, 47, etc.).

This leaves us with chapter 24, the grand climax, where the living is not to be found among the dead (Luke 24:5), where the hope of Israel (Luke 24:21) is found in all the Scriptures (Luke 24:27, 32, 44-46), and where the worship of Jesus is found at Bethany (Luke 24:50-52) and the blessing of God is found at the temple in Jerusalem (Luke 24:53).

To summarize, we’ve got the following subdivisions:

  1. Israel is guilty – Luke 19:1-21:38
  2. Jesus is innocent – Luke 22:1-23:56
  3. Israel’s salvation has arrived – Luke 24:1-53

Summary and Conclusion

To summarize, the structure shows us the following train of Luke’s thought:

  1. Christianity is on trial, and this orderly account will help you to be certain regarding what you’ve heard about the movement – Luke 1:1-4
  2. The Defendant’s Credentials – 1:5-4:13
    1. The Salvation of God – 1-2
    2. The Son of God – 3:1-4:13
  3. 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
  4. 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
  5. 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

1I’m grateful for William Taylor’s Read, Mark, Learn volumes on Luke, which persuaded me of Luke’s structural use of these “on the way” statements. The Amazon link is an affiliate link. If you click it and buy anything, you’ll provide a small commission to this blog at no extra cost to yourself.

What Does It Mean to Be Born of Water and the Spirit?

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Here is a cogent and brief article from D.A. Carson on the phrase “born of water and the Spirit” in John 3:5. Carson observes the text in light of Jesus’ argument to Nicodemus. He compares and contrasts the statement with another statement in the same discussion. He explains why some common interpretations don’t fit the context. And he explains the Old Testament imagery that Jesus draws on, and which Jesus expects Nicodemus to have understood.

The question is important, because it lies at the heart of Jesus’s explanation of “born again,” of new birth, of regeneration…

Many people think the question Nicodemus poses shows that he is a rather dimwitted literalist. But that’s almost certainly too harsh. You don’t get to be called “the teacher of Israel” (John 3:10—possibly a title) if you can’t spot the odd metaphor. When he hears Jesus say that to enter the kingdom one must be “born again,” I suspect Nicodemus understands Jesus to mean that we are not good enough to enter the kingdom: we must start over, have a different origin, spring from a different life. Nicodemus thinks Jesus is going too far: people can’t really start over or claim a new life, boast of a new birth, or enjoy a new beginning.

This is world-class Bible study. Check it out!

The Genre of Luke’s Gospel

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I’ve been studying Luke these days, to prepare for a new sermon series at our church. And this Sunday, I’ll kick off the series with a book overview.

To help me grasp background matters, I’ve been working my way through a course with Logos Bible Software on Luke’s gospel, taught by Dr. Andrew Pitts. The course has been outstanding, and Pitts’s comments on the genre of Luke have been particularly stimulating.

Overall Genre

Certainly, Luke belongs to the genre of historical narrative. However, there are many sub-categories of genre that fall under the umbrella of historical narrative. On a large scale, there are epics, histories, and biographies. On a small scale, there are miracle stories, confrontation stories, healings, teaching, parables, and origin stories.

Regarding Luke, Pitts argues that there is a difference between ancient biography and ancient history. Biographies focus on one individual, the subject, who is praised or lifted up in some way, and readers are called to imitate or follow that figure. Histories, however, focus more on events than on any particular person, and they are concerned with explaining why something is the way it is, or with making a political or social point in light of the relevant history.

jean louis mazieres (2018), Creative Commons

Comparing the Four Gospels

I have always presumed Luke to be the same genre as the other gospels. Of course, it’s closer to Matthew and Mark, which is why those three are often referred to as the “synoptic” (similar perspective) gospels. John is unique, with a completely different style and method of narration.

However, Pitts argues that, at least with respect to genre, the oddball among the four gospels is really Luke. He suggests that Matthew, Mark, and John are biographies, but Luke is a history.

Why does he conclude this?

  • Ancient biographies tend to introduce their subject in the first sentence (or very close to the first sentence). Matthew 1:1, Mark 1:1, and John 1:1 all reference Jesus as the book’s subject. But Luke doesn’t even mention Jesus until Luke 1:31, and then only in predictive speech. Jesus doesn’t become a character or subject until Luke 2:7, or even Luke 2:11. This late mention of the chief subject would be very unusual for a biography. But such late mention of a major protagonist fits right with the expectations for a narrative history.
  • Compared to ancient histories, ancient biographies have a much higher density of citation of authoritative sources to support the portrait of the biography’s subject. Matthew, Mark, and John all fit the parameters of citation density (quoting the Old Testament, in their case) expected from biography. Luke’s density of OT citation is much lower, fitting more closely the parameters of ancient history. (Though Luke cites the OT more times than Mark does, Luke is much longer than Mark, thus making his density of citation significantly lower than Mark’s.)
  • When Luke does introduce his subject matter in the first verse, he terms it “the things that have been accomplished among us” (Luke 1:1). He doesn’t speak of a person, but of a series of events. This is what we’d expect from a history, not a biography.
  • Luke is the only gospel with a sequel (the book of Acts), so we need to read Luke and Acts as a single work in two parts. And Acts clearly moves well beyond the life of Jesus of Nazareth, telling the tales of a number of Jesus’ followers. It might be possible to say that Luke-Acts is a collection of biographies, with Jesus’ life being the first subject. But compendiums of biographies were also known in the ancient world, and there is no other example of such a collection following a single narrative thread (from the first subject, to the second, to the third, etc., instead of treating each biography as a completely separate narrative). If Luke-Acts were a collection of biographies, it would be the only ancient document to take this meta-narrative approach. However, Luke-Acts does follow the standard expectations of an ancient history, moving from one event, to another, to another, in a seamless overarching narrative.

What Difference Does It Make?

What difference does it make whether Luke is biography or history?

Simply that we’ll better observe Luke’s focus, which enables us to focus there with him. Since Matthew, Mark, and John are biographies of Jesus, we read them rightly when we focus on the person of Jesus. Of course, we can’t ignore what Jesus did or what resulted from his work. But with the emphasis on who he was, the other things fall into place as implications of the main idea (Jesus himself).

But if Pitts is right that Luke-Acts presents itself as history, then we’ll better understand Luke-Acts if we focus on what that two-volume work says about the Christian movement. Of course, we can’t ignore who Jesus is when we read Luke-Acts; the movement’s founder is, well, the movement’s foundation. But the identity and character of Jesus, in Luke’s case, are more the implications than the main idea.

Another way to state the hypothesis is that the biographies of Matthew, Mark, and John are meant to tell us, first and foremost, about Jesus. And the history of Luke (along with Acts) is meant to tell us, first and foremost, about Christianity.

This understanding of Luke’s genre is one piece of the puzzle that is Luke’s purpose in writing, along with his main point. In future posts, I may revisit Luke with yet more pieces of that puzzle.

Take a Closer Look at Nicodemus

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Here is a terrific example of observation and interpretive investigation. Ian Carmichael revisits what he always thought to be true about Nicodemus, the kingdom of God, and being born again. This leads him to look more closely at the text, and consider what it has to say in light of the context of John’s argument.

This is some terrific Bible study, with weighty application. Check it out!

More on Walking Through Walls

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When we repeat a particular idea often enough that it becomes part of the air we breathe for years, or even generations on end, it accumulates a gravitas, an authority, that soon goes unexamined. It’s easy for us to see other cultures or communities doing this; it’s difficult to see ourselves doing it. That’s why I’ve sought to expose numerous unquestioned mantras (such as: Jesus’ ministry lasted 3 years, judge not, your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, forgetting what lies behind, and Jesus never broke a bruised reed) that have become unassailably axiomatic in evangelical Protestant circles. I am deeply grateful when others show me that what I’ve always heard and assumed isn’t actually supported by the text of Scripture.

So with all due respect to commentator D.A. Carson and the countless others who have always believed Jesus walked through walls, I raised the question last week: Do John 20:19 and John 20:26 truly claim that Jesus walked through walls? Is the matter as obvious as we typically assert?

Alyosha Efros (2008), Creative Commons

The Testimony of the Ancients

John Calvin would disagree, and with flair:

And while the doors were shut. … We ought, therefore, to believe that Christ did not enter without a miracle, in order to give a demonstration of his Divinity, by which he might stimulate the attention of his disciples; and yet I am far from admitting the truth of what the Papists assert, that the body of Christ passed through the shut doors. Their reason for maintaining this is, for the purpose of proving not only that the glorious body of Christ resembled a spirit, but that it was infinite, and could not be confined to any one place. But the words convey no such meaning; for the Evangelist does not say that he entered through the shut doors, but that he suddenly stood in the midst of his disciples, though the doors had been shut, and had not been opened to him by the hand of man. We know that Peter (Acts 10:10) [sic Acts 12:10] went out of a prison which was locked; and must we, therefore, say that he passed through the midst of the iron and of the planks? Away, then, with that childish trifling, which contains nothing solid, and brings along with it many absurdities! Let us be satisfied with knowing that Christ intended, by a remarkable miracle, to confirm his disciples in their belief of his resurrection.

Calvin, J., & Pringle, W. (2010). Commentary on the Gospel according to John (Vol. 2, p. 264). Bellingham, WA: Logos Bible Software.

Augustine read the text to say that Christ “appeared” within the room, without speculating on how exactly he got there:

When he appeared with all the members of his body and used their functions, he also displayed the places of his wounds. I have always taken these as scars, not as actual wounds, and saw them as the result of his power, not of some necessity. He revealed the ease of this power, especially when he either showed himself in another form or appeared as his real self to the disciples gathered in the house when the doors were closed.

Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (p. 356). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Gregory of Nyssa reads the text similarly:

After his resurrection he showed himself whenever he wanted to his disciples. When he wished to be present with them, he was in their midst without being seen, needing no entrance through open doors.… All of these occurrences, and whatever other similar facts we know about his life, require no further argument to show that they are signs of deity and of a sublime and supreme power.

Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (p. 357). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Regarding the grave-clothes left in the empty tomb (John 20:6-8), Chrysostom seems to think they were simply stripped off and laid aside:

They see the linen clothes lying there, which was a sign of the resurrection. For if they had removed the body, they would not have stripped it first, nor, if any had stolen it, would they have taken the trouble to remove the napkin and roll it up and lay it in a place by itself apart from the linens. They would have taken the body as it was.

Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (pp. 340–341). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Eusebius of Caesarea hears the text saying the grave-clothes were simply left lying:

The cloths lying within seem to me at once to furnish also a proof that the body had not been taken away by people, as Mary supposed. For no one taking away the body would leave the linens, nor would the thief ever have stayed until he had undone the linens and so be caught.

Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, Vol. IVb, Elowsky, J. C. (Ed.). (2007). John 11–21 (p. 341). Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Now my point is not to say we must agree with whatever the commentators write. That would go against a fundamental principle of this blog.

Rather, my point is that the notion of Jesus’ resurrected body passing through solid objects is by no means required of the text. Many Bible readers, in cultures and times different than ours, saw nothing of the sort. Or at least, if they did, not many saw reason to say so.

Eyes Back On the Text

On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”

John 20:19

What is plain is that the disciples were in a room with the doors locked. And John’s explicit reason for mentioning the locked doors is to highlight not Jesus’ miraculous entry but the disciples’ great fear of the Jews. And then at some point, Jesus came and stood among them. He may have entered the room in a miraculous way (which would be consistent with the views of the older commentators quoted above), but again, John doesn’t say so outright.

John doesn’t want us to focus on how exactly Jesus got into the room, though it may have been miraculous. And there is no reason to believe John wants us to think Jesus could pass through solid objects (but as I stated last week: It’s possible he could have!).

John wants us simply to see the risen Christ, in the flesh, offering peace to his fearful followers and sending them to bear witness to these things (John 20:20-23). Those are the facts of which we can be certain, and they ought to be the focus of our attention as we strive to understand and teach John’s message in this text.

Did Jesus Walk Through Walls?

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Jesus accused the Pharisees of holding to traditions which had been added to the Word of God. We may accuse those outside our tribe of doing the same today. But could there be extra-biblical traditions to which we hold steadfastly within our own circles? Oral traditions repeated often enough to now appear nearly self-evident?

I propose one such tradition is the notion that Jesus walked through a wall. If we can suspend our familiarity with the tradition and observe the text carefully, we’ll find the tradition far from evident.

The Text

We find the tradition’s source in John 20:19 and John 20:26:

On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’

Francis Mariani (2008), Creative Commons

Examples of the Tradition

D.A. Carson’s commentary on John’s gospel is a masterpiece, which I am happy to recommend. But no-one is perfect, and in his comments on these verses, Carson reflects the tradition:

But the function of the locked doors in John’s narrative, both here [v.19] and in v.26, is to stress the miraculous nature of Jesus’ appearance amongst his followers. As his resurrection body passed through the grave-clothes (v.6-8), so it passed through the locked doors and simply ‘materialized.’

Carson, The Gospel According to John, Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1991, p.646.

Carson simply asserts that Jesus’ body “passed through locked doors and simply ‘materialized'” as he did with the grave-clothes. So I turn to his comments on the grave-clothes for further textual evidence of the phenomenon:

The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen. Clearly John perceives these details to be important, but their exact meaning is disputed. Some have thought that the burial cloth still retained the shape of Jesus’ head, and was separated from the strips of linen by a distance equivalent to the length of Jesus’ neck. Others have suggested that, owing to the mix of spices separating the layers, even the strips of linen retained the shape they had when Jesus’ body filled them out. Both of these suggestions say more than the text requires. What seems clearest is the contrast with the resurrection of Lazarus (11:44). Lazarus came from the tomb wearing his grave-clothes, the additional burial cloth still wrapped around his head. Jesus’ resurrection body apparently passed through his grave-clothes, spices and all, in much the same way that he later appeared in a locked room (vv. 19, 26). The description of the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head does not suggest that it still retained the shape of the corpse, but that it had been neatly rolled up and set to one side by the one who no longer had any use for it.

Carson, p.637

So we see Carson first exposing a few baseless traditions (that the grave cloths were shaped liked a hollow mummy) because they “say more than the text requires.” This standard for evaluating traditions is eminently reasonable. However, Carson goes on to link the grave-clothes with the entering of the locked room. And he says more himself than the text requires by suggesting that Jesus’ body must have “passed through” solid objects.

C.S. Lewis offers another way one can grasp the tradition of Jesus walking through walls. In his novel Perelandra, as well as in The Great Divorce, he grapples with the idea that heaven is in fact more real than earth. The heavenly grass pokes at the sensitive feet of spiritual tourists, and heavenly rain drops threaten to crush those who lack substance. Lewis challenges the standard tradition in that he wants us not to see Jesus’ resurrection body as less “real,” or more “ghostly” than ours. He wants us to see Jesus’ body as more real and ourselves as the ghosts.

Both Carson and Lewis have important points to make on this topic, but both require us to look more closely at the text: Did Jesus walk through those walls? Did his body pass through the grave-cloths?

Observe the Text

I’ll start with the grave-cloths:

[Simon Peter] saw the linen cloths lying there, and the face cloth, which had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen cloths but folded up in a place by itself.

John 20:6b-7

John tells us that Peter saw the grave-cloths “lying there.” He does not say they were shaped like a hollow mummy. And he does not say they looked as though the body had Disapparated and the cloths had fallen flat without being unwrapped. He says they were “lying there,” but he says nothing about the condition in which they were lying (except for the face cloth being folded).

They could have been ripped off like one of The Incredible Hulk’s shredded garments. They could have been removed and tossed aside like dirty laundry. They could have been rolled or folded neatly. John says the face cloth was “folded up in a place by itself,” so with confidence we can declare that piece of cloth as folded. But the rest? John simply doesn’t tell us. He doesn’t say nearly enough to require us to conclude the body must have passed through the garments.

Now look again at the locked room:

On the evening of that day, the first day of the week, the doors being locked where the disciples were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’

Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’

john 20:19, 26

We know the doors were locked, with the disciples inside. We know the disciples were afraid of the Jews. We know that Jesus then stood among them within the room and spoke to them. But John doesn’t tell us how Jesus got from outside the room to inside the room.

Perhaps he walked through the walls. Perhaps. Or perhaps he knocked on the locked door until they heard his voice, opened up, and let him in. Or perhaps he spoke by the word of his power and made a section of the wall collapse. Or perhaps he found some others to open a hole in the roof and let him down on a pallet. Or perhaps he teleported from one location to another. I intend no irreverence whatsoever; I only wish to highlight that which we simply don’t know.

Please note: I am not saying that Jesus could not have walked through the walls or passed through the grave-cloths. He certainly could have. He is the Lord.

I am saying only that it is not self-evident, from John’s narrative, that he must have walked through walls. John is not nearly as clear about metaphysical post-resurrection ontology as we might wish him to be.

Conclusion

Why does it matter whether Jesus walked through a wall or not? What is at stake here?

Simply the fact that traditions snowball over time, with the end result of making void the Word of God (Mark 7:13). In this case, the tradition has led many to speculate on the physical properties of either the resurrection body or the new heavens and the new earth. This can lead many to make too sharp a division between the “natural” and the “spiritual”—and then we use those adjectives more like Plato than like Paul, which promotes unbiblical asceticism (Col 2:20-23), among other things.

May our thinking and our doctrine be increasingly rooted in vigilant observation of the God-inspired text, that we might be complete, equipped for every good work.

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Did Jesus’ Ministry Last 3 Years?

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Protestants sometimes accuse Roman Catholics of holding to traditions not found in the Bible (e.g. Mary’s immaculate conception and perpetual virginity, etc.). But even Protestants must be careful with their judgment, as they will certainly be measured by the same measure with which they measure others (Matt 7:1-2). Certainly they don’t irrationally hold on to traditions unsupported by Scripture, do they?

We could explore a number of such traditions that Protestants ought to be willing to reconsider in light of the biblical data. In this post, I’ll tackle the typically unexamined maxim that Jesus’ ministry lasted for 3 years. A related assertion is that Jesus was 33 years old when he was crucified. Careful observation of the scriptural data will show us that these assertions could be true, but they are far from certain.

Reasons for the Tradition

If you research an article or book that examines the question, and doesn’t merely assert the 3-year timeframe, you’ll find the answer typically hinges on a few pieces of biblical evidence:

  1. Luke says Jesus began his ministry at “about 30 years of age” (Luke 3:23).
  2. John records three Passover events during Jesus’ ministry (John 2:13, 6:4, 11:55). That third Passover is drawn out also in John 12:1, 13:1, and John 19:14.

From this evidence, the conclusion is drawn: He began at age 30, he ministered for 3 years (through 3 annual Passover feasts), and therefore he died at age 33.

St. Paul’s Timeline, Heidi Blanton (2010), Creative Commons

Familiarity vs. Observation

But please don’t allow your familiarity with the tradition to blind you from careful observation of the text!

  • Luke clearly says that Jesus was “about” 30, not “exactly” 30. Perhaps Luke wants us to think of the beginning of Jesus’ ministry as analogous to the “coming of age” of priests (Num 4:1-3) and rulers (Gen 41:46, 2 Sam 5:4) at age 30. Or perhaps he has other reasons for rounding the number.
  • Though John records three Passover events, we have no proof that he intends his narrative to be literally chronological. Some scholars argue that the first Passover (chapter 2) was the same Passover as the one during which he was crucified, and that John bumps it early in his narrative to make a theological point. Others argue that the Passover of John 6:4 refers to same Passover of the year Jesus was crucified (and therefore, that John 6:4 and John 11:55 are referring to the same event).
  • But regardless of whether John tells us about three Passovers, two Passovers, or even one—he never says that these were the only Passovers Jesus attended during his ministry. To assert or assume these 3 Passover references mean Jesus’ ministry lasted 3 years is to argue from silence.

Conclusion

Now I hope this analysis doesn’t generate seismic repercussions in anyone’s faith. My guess is that most people reading this explanation are not shaken to their core by it. If your reaction is along the lines of, “Who cares whether Jesus’ ministry was 3 years, or 2 years, or even 6 years long?”—I would like to buy you a drink and bless you in the name of Christ.

So why do I care enough to point it out?

Because these things snowball across generations. It’s not difficult for an angel’s legitimate blessing of Mary (Luke 1:28) to evolve over time into sacred legends about her moral perfection, perpetual chastity, or extraordinary origin. In the same way, who knows when or how the mistakenly assumed “three-year ministry of Jesus” might evolve into a three-year master plan for discipleship, or a three-year sacred tradition for church planting, or a set of uncompromisable three-year expectations for how God must work to build his kingdom?

Most spurious traditions have their origin in something true and good. But we cannot add to that truth without, in the end, compromising the very truth we sought to uphold. For example, it is a good and right thing to love God more than your parents (Luke 14:26). But it’s an altogether wicked thing to add traditions to that truth which end up undermining the obligation to care for your aging forebears (Mark 7:9-13).

The Bible doesn’t tell us exactly how many years Jesus spent with his disciples, going about doing good and healing. So we ought not to casually assert a three-year timeline as though it were self-evident.