Brief preliminary thoughts on Wellhausen's Prologomena

Many Christians are skeptical, or even suspicious of what is called the Documentary Hypothesis developed by Wellhausen. Broad brush strokes: Moses did not literally write the Pentateuch (first five books of the Bible, Hebrew Torah, meaning 'instruction,' rather than 'law'). Instead, there were four 'traditions' or 'sources:' the Yahwist (J in German), the Elohist (E), the Deuteronomist (D) and the Priestly source (P) - hence JEDP. Also, it is worth mentioning that this thesis falls under the category of historical criticism, or 'the historical-critical method.'

Within evangelical circles, even suggesting this proposal as a possibility is a step in denying the reliability (and therefore authority) of the Bible. I believe this is because there is an assumption that the Bible's reliability is contingent on a particular way of understanding Mosaic history, which is that Moses largely wrote Genesis to Deuteronomy in a chronological other, with at least one final editor or redactor who compiled everything. Well, even suggesting a final editor might already be controversial.

Anyways, my point is that many Christians automatically assume that the Documentary Hypothesis is a result of Enlightenment Rationalism, where human reason is set above God's word - judging it (in the case of the Torah) in terms of its history of composition. Thus, Christians assume that the method is inherently anti-Christian, but I think that this is quite an unfair view. Many evangelical Christians today would state that the historicity of the Bible is crucial to its reliability (and therefore authority). But Wellhausen's proposal shares the exact sentiment! He views history as important, therefore, he tries to find out how the Bible - specifically the Torah - reaches the final form we have now. His concern is also historical!

Therein lies an issue, both camps are concerned with history - but by the term, I suspect they mean different things; at the least, they are asking different questions, adopting different approaches. The solution? I have none yet - maybe in future once I have had more time to think about the issue, I can make up my mind.

Before I finish, an important point needs to be said: I hold to the complete reliability and authority of the Bible. So because the Bible is essential to the life and health of the Church, we must be willing to ask difficult questions - not because we think we are smarter than God - but because we want to better understand the God who has revealed Himself in word and in history; and we know that both are pretty complicated issues. Final question: why bother? Is this erudition born from a want of more 'useful' things to do? Perhaps, but if (generally) we encourage Christians to 'pursue their interests' in the areas of the arts and science, why not in this? Maybe there should also be extra brownie points because we are studying the Bible.

Anyway, I would like to end with this quote from the editor of the English translation of Wellhausen's Prologomena to the History of Ancient Israel:

[…] our Hebrew students will have in their hands an admirable manual of what I may call the anatomy of the Pentateuch, in which they can follow from chapter to chapter the process by which the Pentateuch grew to its present form. But for the mass of Bible-readers such detailed analysis will always be too difficult. What every one [sic] can understand and ought to try to master, is the broad historical aspect of the matter. And this the present volume sets forth in a way that must be full of interest to every one [sic] who has tasted the intense pleasure of following institutions and ideas in their growth, and who has faith enough to see the hand of God as clearly in a long providential development as in a sudden miracle.

That closing sentence does not sound insidious.

Two more brothers in Christ

If pathetic fallacy was not derogatory, I would readily say that the weather tonight reflected my mood of the past few days – dark, chilly, stormy. Being Christian has not been easy.

Just now at iClub (an evangelistic programme my church runs on a weekly basis), we had to make last minute changes to the venue because the main building had heating issues. It was pretty hectic, and I was admittedly somewhat grumpy – though I thought I was quite good at hiding it.

Despite the weather, last minute changes to the programme and my weakness, a Chinese guy who has been a regular attendee – Stanley – decided to commit his life to Jesus. And just a week ago, his friend – Caso (also a Chinese student) – repented, and trusted in the gospel.

This week, we looked at the resurrection of Jesus and its significance for us. As we were discussing a few questions, Caso was asked why he decided to become a Christian, and as he answered, I noticed that his voice started to break – and I suspect it was because he was on the verge of tears. Stanley was also very comfortable answering questions; he agreed that Jesus’ death was able to save sinners and his resurrection signified that he had triumphed over it, giving us new life and calling us to live with his as Lord. When we challenged Stanley about what was stopping him from becoming a Christian, he had a few small misunderstandings. But after resolving those, and explaining the cost of following Jesus, Stanley eagerly – with childlike wonder – said he was ready to become a Christian! We prayed with him to confess his sins, ask for forgiveness, and commit to follow Jesus.

It felt surreal when these things were happening. For some reason, I failed to grasp the significance of these events. But now I am moved to tears thinking about the magnitude of what happened in a small room in a church, in a small city like Durham, involving insignificant people like us.

After all that, I witnessed a touching scene: Caso extended his arm towards Stanley, and called him – brother.  

Brother. This is probably an aspect of Christianity that I neglect, not because it is unappealing, but because it is so difficult to actually live out. Christians forget that in the gospel, natural enemies have been reconciled; Christians forget that the gospel transcends culture; and Christians hurt one another too often. But that does not diminish the fact that we are now part of God’s family through adoption (Mark 3:31-35). And so I have gained two more brothers in Christ.

I also want to consider one other thing: the Christian’s call to live in light of the gospel. So I would like to share this theologically-rich song. (I chose this song because another iClub helper was singing it as we were packing down. It also reminded me of my days serving with YFC.)

Hear the call of the kingdom

Lift your eyes to the King

Let His song rise within you

As a fragrant offering

Of how God rich in mercy

Came in Christ to redeem

All who trust in His unfailing grace

Hear the call of the kingdom

To be children of light

With the mercy of heaven

The humility of Christ

Walking justly before Him

Loving all that is right

That the life of Christ may shine through us

(Chorus)

King of Heaven, we will answer the call

We will follow, bringing hope to the world

Filled with passion, filled with power to proclaim

Salvation in Jesus’ name

Hear the call of the kingdom

To reach out to the lost

With the Father’s compassion

In the wonder of the cross

Bringing peace and forgiveness

And a hope yet to come

Let the nations put their trust in Him

I was rebuked for my slothfulness and complacency tonight; and I was reminded of the power of the gospel. Two more people have heard the ‘call of the kingdom’ and responded. So let us strive to keep responding, and to keep proclaiming this call to more people! God will work through our weak efforts to establish His glorious kingdom – such a great reason to be simultaneously humble and confident. 

Book Reflection: Gospel-centred Hermeneutics - Graeme Goldsworthy

Since being introduced to biblical theology about three years ago, I have been passionate about studying it and encouraging others to see its importance. However, articulating why it is important often eludes me. I know that it affects how, as Christians, we read our Bibles - and therefore how we live as Christians. But when questioned, I often flounder trying to find a good reply.

Reading Graeme Goldsworthy's Gospel-Centred Hermeneutics: Biblical-theological Foundations and Principles (ISBN: 978-1844741458) has been extremely helpful in enabling me to evaluate my own presuppositions. I have learned the supporting arguments underlying important Evangelical hermeneutical axioms, been challenged by blind spots, and been exposed to further questions related to the practice of Biblical interpretation. These have helped me to form a clearer 'frame of reference,' or 'worldview,' or - using the name of this blog - construct a better set of 'gospel lenses' through which I perceive the world and understand reality in light of the Ultimate Reality - Jesus Christ. 

The book is tough to read. I started reading it sometime in June, but only just finished it. Perhaps it is because I am asking questions about how to read and understand at this point of time, that the book is particularly pertinent. Nevertheless, I would still highly recommend this book to anyone wanting to understand Goldsworthy's approach to biblical theology. I must say that I would largely associate myself with his version of the discipline - at least for now. 

Right, but going back to my first point about the importance of biblical theology for the life and health of the church, Goldsworthy sounds a clarion call: 

The main hermeneutical goal is the relating of the text to the person and work of Jesus Christ. This necessitates consideration of all the dimensions of the biblical revelation, and especially biblical theology. I cannot stress too much how important biblical theology is to the process of understanding and applying the Bible. It should be taught to children at home and in Sunday schools. It belongs in adult Bible groups, and it should be intentionally preached from the pulpits. Above all, it should be a required course in every theological seminary and Bible college. Biblical theology provides the link between any part of the Bible and its centre in Christ. This is an essential perspective for valid application of ancient texts to modern readers and hearers. Even those texts, especially in the New Testament, that are written specifically as directions to Christians, are derivative of the place of Jesus Christ in the scheme of things (p. 312, italics mine).

Goldsworthy is also very articulate here

Gospel-centred hermeneutics is above all the endeavour to understand the meaning of any aspect of reality, including the Bible, in the light of him who is the Light of the World (p. 315).

For him, Christ is the interpretive key to everything. I agree, and I pray that his Spirit will enable me to do so, to the glory of God the Father.

Reflecting on Truth and Historicity (I)

Since starting my English degree in Durham, one of the biggest issues that has challenged my trust in the Bible is the issue of its historicity. Dictionary.com defines the word as ‘historical authenticity.’ And here’s a line from Wikipedia: historicity focuses on the truth value of knowledge claims about the past (denoting historical actuality, authenticity, and factuality).

I remember reading Henri Blocher’s In the Beginning. He suggested that the literary approach to reading the creation account in Genesis 1 is the best, because it is the method that seeks to understand the Bible on its own terms. In other words, since the Biblical author was not concerned about (modern) scientific questions, reading Genesis 1 for scientific truths is anachronistic (and I would suggest – eisegetic). Perhaps we can find scientific truths in the Genesis account, but if the goal of Biblical interpretation is finding out what the Author/author intended, and how to live in light of that intention, then I am happy to read the creation account in a non-literalistic way. I am not discounting (most) other interpretations, but how we approach Genesis 1 is an indication of our hermeneutical presuppositions.

Let us ask this question: what makes the Biblical account of a historical event true? Many Christians I know and respect will reply that historicity is an essential element. However, modern Christians have a modern understanding of history. We equate history with fact. I think this imposition of modern standards of historiography on Biblical narrative should be questioned – did the Biblical authors share our view of historiography? I am inclined to say ‘no,’ although I will have to read up more. But I agree with the gist of Robert Gundry’s point here:

“I do not deny that events reported in the Bible actually happened, but only that the Biblical authors meant to report events, or historical details in connection with events, at points where Geisler and others think they did so mean. I deny in some texts what would be the literal, normal meaning for a reader who assumes a modern standard of history-writing, but not what I believe to be the literal, normal meaning for the original audience, or even for a modern audience that is homiletically oriented.”¹

Here are two more quotes from Goldsworthy’s Gospel-Centred Hermeneutics:

“Attempts at harmonising the Gospels, it seems to me, have usually ignored the way history has been narrativised” (p. 232).

I think the key idea here is narrativised history.

“[…], while there are grey areas in which evangelical opinions over the historical truth claims may differ (e.g. ‘Is Job historical or parabolic?’ ‘Is Jonah a factual missionary story?’), the preaching of such as historical fact is only problematic when the concern for historicity overshadows the concern for the theological message. Some of Jesus’ parables may well be drawn from real life, but their significance does not depend on their being ‘historical.’ The same may be said (cautiously) of Job. The issues, then, is not whether we can accept only what can be tested by scientific historical means, but what relationship the narrated events bear to the gospel. In one sense the history/fiction debate is important to remind us that history writing in ancient times was creative in a way that was not calculated to be deceptive. The crafting of accounts that some may call fiction is not designed to reduce the historical value, but to emphasise it” (p. 232-33).

I lean towards Goldsworthy’s willingness to accept that significance (or truth) does not depend on historicity. I will readily admit that if I do not proceed with caution, I can easily stumble onto the path of liberalism. But I do not think that fear should stop Christians from thinking seriously about the Bible.

1. Robert Gundry, “A Surrejoinder to Norman L. Geisler,” Journal of Evangelical Theological Society 26, no. 1 (March 1983): 113-14, quoted in Five Views on Biblical Inerrancy.  

Some Thoughts on Horton's Review of Wright's book

Michael Horton raises a few important issues in this book review. 

1) Modern misunderstandings about the gospel abound. The gospel divorced from history (the Old Testament) becomes just another philosophical thought. Hence, the importance of Biblical Theology. 

The traditional presentation of the gospel—e.g., the “Romans Road”—has little contact with the story the apostle is telling in that famous epistle, Wright argues. Abstracted from the story of Israel, the gospel becomes reduced to “Jesus bore God’s wrath in your place so you could go to heaven when you die.” That old-time religion had some legitimate pieces of the puzzle, but it didn’t put them together properly. Consequently, evangelicals have moralized the problem (sin merely as violations of a code), paganized the solution (an angry Father punishing his Son), and platonized the goal (going to heaven when we die).

 2) There's more to the cross than Penal Substitution. Many evangelicals say this, but for us, it is practically only about how propitiation. I understand the concern to be clear in the face of increasing denial (even among Christians) of this aspect of the cross, but we risk moving to the other extreme of the spectrum.

3) The intermediate state.

Finally, I have some questions about Wright’s solution to the “platonized” eschatology. Here as well, his criticisms of the whole Christian tradition are sweeping, encompassing the Reformation as well. However, these same critiques have a long history in Reformed theology. Luther pledged to put Origen “back under the ban” for his Platonic speculations, and no one emphasized more than Calvin the significance of Christ’s glorified humanity as the guarantee we will be raised bodily to share in a renewed creation. Harman Bavinck, Geerhardus Vos, Herman Ridderbos, John Murray, Meredith Kline, Richard Gaffin, and others showed me the differences between Plato and Paul. In fact, some, like G. C. Berkouwer, overreacted against “Platonism” by denying the intermediate state altogether—which Wright, happily, is careful to avoid. But what do we do with the passages that teach, explicitly or implicitly, a distinction between heaven and earth?  

I am currently reading a book about the relationship between Israel and the Church. One aspect of the discussion touches on our theology of the end times. I am an ammillenialist, and one thing we emphasise is inaugurated eschatology, in simpler terms, the already-but-not-yet aspect of Christian eschatology. Perhaps the implications of this issue for the average Christian is not glaringly direct, but how we view eternity (and therefore the present) will certainly shape how we live today. 

Writing is Difficult

I spent the whole morning writing a blog post on my two months back in SMACC 2, then spent the early part of my afternoon contemplating taking the post down.

Despite making every effort to watch my tone and examine my purpose and motivation for writing, I feared that what I wrote could be taken wrongly. I cannot explain away that feeling of unease, so I guess it was better to take the post down.

And so I conclude that writing is difficult. Although it is what I spend most of my time doing now, there is a weighty responsibility to anyone wishing to have words permanently inked on paper – in this instance – the treacherous sea that is the internet.

Sometimes I wonder if the mental exhaustion of writing well is worth experiencing. But then again, when we do catch those glimpses of the ineffable, it makes the previous sufferings worth it. This reminds me of what Paul said in 2 Corinthians 4:17 ‘For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison…’ (I am not interpreting the verse, I am drawing an analogy.)

For now, I guess I should just keep working at articulation.  

Thinking about Feelings

It is strange how our feelings are often beyond our control. Naturally, we cannot help but feel angry when we are offended or see injustice; we cannot help but feel sadness when we are hurt, or the people around us are; we cannot help but feel joy when something goes right for us or for people we care for. I believe this is true for most of us – unless we put in great amounts of effort to suppress our emotions.

I am currently feeling somewhat sentimental. Being back in Durham has been great – I have managed to catch up with a few friends, but I am also aware that for a few people I said goodbye to three months ago, our paths may never cross. And at the back of my mind, there is that one person – that I am hoping beyond hope – I would not have to say a permanent goodbye come June next year.

My rational mind cannot convince my feelings to halt its descent into self-destructing infatuation. So in a light-hearted spirit of hopelessness, here’s a poem I would like to share about ‘the one that got away.’ This poem is written by W.B. Yeats. It is pretty straightforward, except for the identity of ‘Love’ and the ‘he’ in the final stanza.

But this is not an essay, it is an avenue to articulate the various threads of thoughts which entangle my mind. So here’s the poem:

When you are old and grey and full of sleep, 

And nodding by the fire, take down this book, 

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look 

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; 

How many loved your moments of glad grace, 

And loved your beauty with love false or true, 

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, 

And loved the sorrows of your changing face; 

And bending down beside the glowing bars, 

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled 

And paced upon the mountains overhead 

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

What should I do now then? Definitely not wallow in the self-constructed prison of my feelings. I believe the gospel has power to save and redeem every part of us – including these emotions. I have not figured out how to deal with this issue, I readily admit I am lost. However, I am sure that I need not despair, I will trust in my saviour as he leads me day by day to face the evil without, and the darkness within. 

Reading through Romans - Romans 1:1-7

     I’ll be studying the book of Romans later this year when I head back to Durham, so I thought I should read it through now and write about it – because writing helps me articulate my thoughts. I hope to be posting up my thoughts on short passages as I’m going through the epistle, since it is a relatively long one. I’ll try to keep my references to external resources limited, and focus on observation. Hence, what follows are my thoughts rather than definitive interpretation. (Also, I’ll be making reference to the ESV version, and I’m still practising my paragraphing.)  

---

     Paul uses ‘called’ three times in this passage (v1, 6, 7) – the first time referring to himself, with the latter two referring to the Romans – in regards to belonging to Christ. Knowing that ‘calling’ can be a tricky term which is overused in modern Christian circles, it would be interesting to see how Paul develops this idea throughout the book.

     In verses 2 – 4, Paul expands on ‘the gospel of God’ (v1). It consists of two main ideas: 1) this gospel was ‘promised beforehand through his prophets and in the holy Scriptures;’ 2) it concerns his Son. Regarding point 1) it will be worth paying attention as to how Paul fleshes out this idea. About 2), Paul then chooses to highlight two aspects of the Son: 1) he was ‘descended from David according to the flesh;’ 2) he was ‘declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead.’ We have two ‘according to’ and they seem to be contrasting – ‘flesh’ vs ‘Spirit.’ I’m not sure what ‘flesh’ means at this point, perhaps Paul will develop this idea later in his epistle.

     A few interesting ideas in v4 hinge on Jesus being ‘declared to be the Son of God […] by his resurrection from the dead,’ – we could ask: in what sense is this statement true? Was Jesus not already the Son of God prior to his resurrection? And what is the Spirit’s role? I don’t have answers, but I suspect they are somewhere in the Old Testament (perhaps Psalm 2?).

     Verse 5 picks up from v3 ‘concerning his Son,’ where Paul tells the Romans that grace and his apostleship are from Christ, and that his purpose is to ‘bring about the obedience of faith for the sake of his name among all the nations.’ So the missionary’s job description according to Paul here is 1) elicit ‘obedience of faith’ and 2) for Jesus’ global glory. Paul doesn’t explain what kind of obedience this is, so we’ll have to wait. With regards to point 2, this echoes the OT theme of people knowing God (cf. Isaiah 49:26; Ezekiel 36:38 as examples).

     To conclude an already brief post, Paul establishes the nature of his apostleship (commission, content –‘the gospel of God’ – and purpose) to Roman Christians. Everything seems to centre on Jesus Christ. An obvious takeaway would be that Christ must be the centre of any gospel message, because God’s gospel is concerning his Son. I think it was Greidanus was said that it’s not enough that our sermons be God-centred, they must be Christ-centred. That’s striking and I know not everyone will agree. Also, another important point is that this gospel is not about us; it is ‘for the sake of [Christ’s] name among all the nations.’ It is easy to shift the focus of the Christian message from being Christ-exalting to people-exalting, especially in our narcissistic culture. Let’s not fall into that trap.  

Some thoughts on confusing Bible passages - Matthew 27: 51-53

     I believe in the perspicuity (clarity) of the Bible. And though there are passages (or maybe even books) whereby Evangelicals might defer with regards to interpretation, Evangelicals largely agree on core Gospel issues. Nevertheless, I would like to spend some time considering (what I would regard as) ‘confusing’ Bible passages and offer some thoughts about them. Here I discuss Matthew 27: 51-53.

     Here are vv.51b-53: “And the earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened. And many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised, and coming out of the tombs after his resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many.”

     This description is unique to Matthew’s Gospel, and I have thought it very strange. And yet, I have yet to come across a satisfactory explanation as to why ‘the bodies of the saints … were raised.’ This could not be some kind of pre-Easter resurrection, yet the text is clear and unambiguous. Then I came across Ezekiel 37:12-14. I quote snippets from it: “Thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people… And you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves, and raise you from your graves, O my people.” (Please also read the passage in full.) I think the language is similar, so perhaps Matthew is making reference to this passage in Ezekiel, saying that Jesus’ crucifixion is the fulfilment – or the moment – that God fulfils His promises stated in Ezekiel 37 and its larger context. Generally speaking, the promise is that God will restore the nation of Israel and make a new covenant with them.

     This opens up the possibility that what Matthew wrote did not ‘literally’ happen (this is controversial, I know, but bear with me). It could be that when Matthew looked at the events surrounding Jesus’ death and resurrection, and looked back at the Scriptures, he found that Jesus fulfilled the promises, or inaugurated their fulfilment. Thus, he applies Ezekiel’s vision to Jesus’ death, showing to his (likely) Jewish audience that Jesus is the answer to the vision God gave to Ezekiel.

     But our Bible reading should never be for dry theological knowledge, and so I’d like to consider some implications of reading this passage this way. Firstly, I think that would help us think more deeply about the significance of the cross. I think too often in Evangelical, gospel-centred circles, we read books or sermons about the death of Jesus and think that it’s only about penal substitution. I understand the emphasis, but there is so much more there that I think we will discover if we allow ourselves to dig deeper and ask more questions. This, I think would help us appreciate Jesus’ crucifixion more and increase our wonder at our God who works out all of His promises through His Son – allowing us to rejoice even more greatly in the salvation He has graciously given.  

     Secondly, this might encourage us to read our Old Testament even more closely. Over the past few years I’ve been introduced to Biblical Theology, and I’ve come to see the richness of the Old Testament as part of God’s redemptive revelation. I believe we cannot properly understand the Old Testament without the New, and vice versa. And rooting the New Testament in the Old is grounding it in the overall sweep of redemptive history, avoiding an ‘a-temporal, philosophical’ Christianity that I find to be quite prevalent.

     However, there are many more issues to consider, like the context of this passage – especially how Matthew reads and uses the Old Testament. Another potentially problematic are would be the question of whether things happened exactly as Matthew writes it. Another legitimate worry is that I am making things up and going too far with how I use the Bible. Regarding the third concern, I hope to gradually consider more passages and write about the Biblical Theological methods that I’m employing, so that people can read and judge for themselves. I’m no Bible scholar, but I firmly believe a layperson can understand Scripture and I believe that we don’t need to get a certificate in theology before we can read our Bibles well. I’m embarking on a journey of discovery, so join me if you are interested.  

     Also, if anyone reading this has thoughts, do feel free to share them in the comments. 

Poems about Parting

     It’s approaching the graduation of some of my friends here at Durham, and it is likely that I will not see them again. I’ve never been that sentimental about leaving friends before, but a big thing I’ve learned this year is to appreciate people. I used to think I could live a hermit’s life, because human relationships didn’t really matter. But that’s changed over the past year as I got to know the guys and girls in our international Bible study group at church.

     I also remember those who were important in my life at some point, but then time and choice have caused us to drift apart. So I’d like to share two poems about parting, the first is an elegy; the second about not being able to escape memories. I don’t think there can be a remedy for the pain of parting, at least not till Jesus’ returns. Till then, I think we can and should feel the sting of departure – yet not despair.

Silence and Stealth of Days! – Henry Vaughan

Silence and stealth of days! ’Tis now,

          Since thou art gone,

Twelve hundred hours, and not a brow

          But clouds hang on.

As he that in some cave’s thick damp,

          Lock’d from the light,

Fixeth a solitary lamp

          To brave the night,

And walking from his Sun, when past

          That glimm’ring ray,

Cuts through the heavy mists in haste

          Back to his day;

So o’er fled minutes I retreat

          Unto that hour,

Which show’d thee last, but did defeat

          Thy light and pow’r.

I search, and rack my soul to see

          Those beams again;

But nothing but the snuff to me

          Appeareth plain:

That, dark and dead, sleeps in its known

          And common urn;

But those, fled to their Maker’s throne,

          There shine, and burn:

O could I track them! but souls must

          Track one the other;

And now the spirit, not the dust,

          Must be thy brother.

But I have one pearl, by Whose light

          All things I see;

And in the heart of earth and night

          Find heaven, and thee.

The End of the Pier – Nicole Callihan

I walked to the end of the pier

and threw your name into the sea,

and when you flew back to me –

a silver fish – I devoured you,

cleaned you to the bone. I was through.

But then you came back again:

as sun on water. I reached for you,

skimmed my hands over the light of you.

And when the sky darkened,

again, I thought it was over, but then,

you became water. I closed my eyes

and lay on top of you, swallowed you,

let you swallow me too. and when

you carried my body back to shore –

as I trusted that you would do –

well, then, you became shore too,

and I knew, finally, I would never be through. 

Poem: How are you?

How are you?

Her answer is always simply

“I’m fine, thank you.

And you?”

But she never spoke of the Shadow,

The weight of Nothing that stops her lips

From articulating some Fear she knows

She feels, but knows not from which cell it spawned.

For speech is as inadequate
At expression

As people are at empathy.

She wants to say, sing, shout – be heard.

But words can offer no pity;

Lifeless symbols cannot capture

The sense of beings and things.

So she smiles and it looks pretty – good -

Though our eyes don’t meet. A gentle plea

Escapes her prison of resolve:

A soft cry for companionship –

For any one comprehending soul

To listen to the flood of words tumbling

Out of locked jaws in - ineffable silence.

I shrugged and wished that I could understand.

Then said, I'm fine - too. 

Book Review: Life Together - Dietrich Bonhoeffer

     Doing Christian community well is difficult, for where people are involved, people will get hurt. In this book, Bonhoeffer explores the importance of Christian community, what one such community looks like, and the challenges it will face.

     With only five chapters, this book about Christian community is short, but Bonhoeffer is incisive in his observations, being firm, yet gentle as he identifies potential pitfalls and offers prescriptions.

     In chapter 1, he writes about the necessity of community and defines the term. He writes that ‘our community with one another consists solely in what Christ has done to both of us’ (p. 25). He also helpfully addresses the issue of Christians having an ideal of what a Christian brotherhood should look like, saying its inevitable ugliness and messiness is a place for God’s grace to be displayed. After all, ‘Christian brotherhood is not an ideal which we must realise; it is rather a reality created by God in Christ in which we may participate’ (p. 30).

     Chapters 2 and 3 talks about communal and individual living. Chapter 2 is a series of prescriptions on the activities a Christian fellowship should do in order to grow as a community. Chapter 3 addresses the importance of individual time alone with God.

     In chapter 4, he writes about ministries that are important for a local group of Christians. These are very helpful because Bonhoeffer places a great focus on personal humility and other-person-centredness. Chapter 5 ends the book with a call for the importance of confession of sin to one another.

     Bonhoeffer writes with a loving tone. His voice is that of a pastor who cares greatly for God’s people. The book is no academic treatise; it is a ‘this-worldly’ exploration of what it means to be part of a Christian community. I really recommend this book to anyone wanting to learn how to live with other Christians together, better.  

Book Review: Preaching Christ in All of Scripture - Edmund Clowney

     Clowney says in the preface that the chapters are ‘[…] sermons are offered as messages to be heard as preaching, not as footnoted theses for study’ (p. 10). Thus, the book is not so much about how to preach Christ in all of Scripture, but a few examples of how one can go about it. The first two chapters do provide some kind of theoretical framework, but I thought the content could have been organised better.

     So here are the chapters:

1)    Christ in all of Scripture.

2)    Preparing a sermon that presents Christ.

3)    Sharing the father’s welcome (Luke 15: 11-32).

4)    See what it costs (Genesis 22: 1-19).

5)    When God came down (Genesis 28:10-22).

6)    The champion’s strange victory (Genesis 32).

7)    Can God be among us (Exodus 34:1-9)?

8)    Meet the captain (Joshua 5:13-15).

9)    Surprised by devotion (2 Samuel 23:13-17).

10) The Lord of the manger.

11) Jesus preaches liberty (Luke 4:16-22).

12) The cry of the God-forsaken saviour (Psalm 22:1).

13) Our International Anthem (Psalm 96:3).

14) Jesus Christ and the lostness of man.

15) Hearing is believing: The Lord of the Word.

     These sermons are written to elicit praise, and so his language is beautiful and his points quite easy to follow. Almost every chapter ends with a call to see afresh God’s grace to His people in Christ throughout redemptive history, and as such, the book can be read as a devotional.

     The aspect of the book I find most helpful is Clowney’s ability to draw lines of connection from Old Testament events, figures or objects to Christ. He does so quite carefully, although I found some of his readings somewhat arbitrary, and leaning slightly towards allegory. But overall, he models good interpretive practices, always paying careful attention to the redemptive-historical character of the Bible.

     All in all, the book is not an academic treatise on the topic, but a pastoral exhortation to see and savour Christ in all of Scripture. 

Poem: Out of the Mire of Despair

     I haven't written a poem in a long time. I've started on a few but cannot seem to finish them. Perhaps reading great poetry has exposed my poetic inadequacies and I am caught in a fear of failure - a sickening mental paralysis. The past week was tough, but when I really left my house for the first time in a week yesterday, I saw (what I think are) tulips growing on the outside of the wall. I've never really been one who appreciates flowers, but they caught my eyes - bright yellow and red. And I remembered another tulip, rather TULIP and slowly I found words. 

     2 Corinthians 4: 1-6 has been one of the most significant passages that taught me what grace looks like, and how one should respond to it. Here's verse 6 (perhaps my favourite Bible verse) before you read the poem: 'For God, who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.'

Out of the mire of despair,

The Lord has lifted me.

He, whose image I had impaired,

Has heard my hopeless plea.

Far from my flashes of constancy,

The Lord, His word has kept.

Convulsed in rebellious ecstasy,

This being is sunk in debt

To unrighteous consistency -

The payment – yet – strangely met.

For the Curse was pronounced its doom

In tomes of ancient time;

A man would bear weak Adam’s doom,

A swap for humankind.

Then into the midnight of my soul,

My Lord has shone his light;

Evinced in wounds whence a crimson flow

Surely cured sin’s deadly blight.

Book Review: The Gospel - Ray Ortlund

     The full title of this book is The Gospel: How the Church Portrays the Beauty of Christ. And the subtitle is important to understand Ray’s point. He wants to show how gospel doctrine creates a gospel culture – and all that is to display Christ’s beauty.

     Thus, in this short book, Ray seeks to show the gospel implications for the individual, the (new) community (of believers) and the cosmos. These are the first three chapters of the book which provide the theological framework for the next four chapters.

     In chapters 4 – 7, Ray fleshes out what it looks like to ‘do church.’ He is realistic. Thus, he warns of suffering, of discouragement, of difficulty; at the same time he shows readers that because God is building His church, there is the joyful certainty that if the gospel is at the church’s ‘sacred centre,’ it can gradually become the community God designed it to be.

     Ray writes with great humility, gently showing us the folly of Christian self-trust (which, if we are honest with ourselves, is almost always the case), and pointing us to the glories of Christ’s gospel. This book is a call for churches to enjoy the gospel once more if we have lost sight of it, and to behold its beauty every day, because we can never get enough of it. It is also an encouragement and challenge for Christians to live passionately for the gospel.

     He quotes Francis Schaeffer ‘if we do not show beauty in the way we treat each other, then in the eyes of the world and in the eyes of our own children, we are destroying the truth we proclaim.’ And we can only show that kind of beauty if we have tasted, and are daily devouring the beauty of the gospel.

     I know my church needs a truly gospel culture. I don’t think I will suddenly love my fellow Christians in a drastically different (and better way), but this book has pointed out to me what I must do if I want to love better – be gripped by the gospel. So if you want to love the church better, I’d say this gem of a book is for you.

Book Review: Jesus On Every Page - David Murray

     In this book, David Murray’s objective is to help readers find and enjoy Jesus when reading the Old Testament. He states it clearly that “many books did not help the reader start to do his or her own Christ-centred interpretation… the practical steps that would help a reader get from a text or chapter to Jesus were often missing. I’ve therefore tried to provide templates and step-by-step guides … to help the reader start practicing this wonderful way of enjoying Jesus in His Word” (p. 2).

     What follows is a very readable account of his own journey to find Jesus in the Old Testament (Part 1) and 10 ways to find Him in the OT (Part 2). This book is not academic; it has, instead, a very pastoral focus – to elicit our worship of Jesus. Thus, the tone is very personal, but there does seem to be weaknesses in many of his arguments. I think he sacrifices some scholarly depth for accessibility. This would be my major criticism of the book.

     Here are the 10 ways he proposes that readers can find Jesus in the Old Testament:

1)    Christ’s planet: Creation

2)    Christ’s people: OT Characters

3)    Christ’s presence: Christophanies

4)    Christ’s precepts: Law

5)    Christ’s past: OT history

6)    Christ’s prophets: Prophets

7)    Christ’s pictures: OT types

8)    Christ’s promises: Covenants

9)    Christ’s proverbs: the Proverbs

10) Christ’s poets: Poems

     This passage captures Murray’s theological framework: “We all believe the same gospel. The vocabulary was different, the clarity was different (Abraham believed in the shadows; we, in the sunlight), and the direction was different (Abraham looked forward to Jesus, whereas we look back), but the core, the essence, the focus was the same” (p. 16). From this starting point, he brings readers on a journey to discover Christ in the OT, providing very helpful tips and pointers with regards to methodology.

     Each chapter is great, but I found the ones on the Law and the prophets most helpful. However, I sometimes found it difficult to follow his thoughts within certain chapters. Perhaps because the book reads more like a conversation than an essay, I had to pause once in a while to try to figure out the relevance of some of his points.

     Although I do not agree with everything he says, this has been a helpful resource and a great introduction to finding Christ in the Old Testament because of its pastoral emphasis. This however, isn’t really a textbook on Biblical Theology. Thus, I would recommend this resource to anyone wishing to read the Old Testament to enjoy Jesus, but is unfamiliar as to the ‘how’ question. On a similar note, for someone who wants to see how the whole Bible fits together, I would recommend Vaughan Robert’s ‘God’s Big Picture’ as an excellent introduction.  

Book Reflection: Church History in Plain Language – Bruce L. Shelley

     Shelley notes that ‘surely one of the most remarkable aspects of Christianity today is how few of these professed believers have ever seriously studied the history of their religion.’ I definitely belong to this category, and I certainly regret not studying the history of Christianity earlier.

     What Shelley sets out to do in this book is to chart the development of Christianity from Jesus till the modern age (my edition is published in 2008, so up to that point). He attempts to do so by telling stories of people rather than merely stating cold hard facts. This writing style makes this crash course in Christian history very readable and accessible. Furthermore, there is no cost to the level of research and scholarship. Admittedly, he cannot explore people and incidents in great depth, but he is clear that his purpose is to do a general survey of the history of Christianity – a sort of appetiser to get us excited about learning more.

     Another feature of the book worth mentioning is the way he structures the chapters. He suggests large epochs:

1)    The Age of Jesus and the Apostles (6 BC – AD 70)

2)    The Age of Catholic Christianity (70 – 312)

3)    The Age of the Christian Roman Empire (312 – 590)

4)    The Christian Middle Ages (590 – 1517)

5)    The Age of the Reformation (1517 – 1648)

6)    The Age of Reason and Revival (1648 – 1789)

7)    The Age of Ideologies (1914 - )

     Under each age, he talks about significant people, movements and events that have shaped Christianity during those eras. Chapter lengths are manageable and quite neatly divided, so top points for organisation!

     Perhaps the only negative thing I have to say about the work is that there is certainly more focus on Western Christianity. We do not hear much about the Orthodox Church; neither do we read much about Christianity in Southeast Asia and Australia. But these complaints could be just me being greedy.

     I’ve definitely learned a few lessons and have been confronted with some questions. Through reading the book, I’ve become more aware of the Christian tradition that I now find myself in. By better understanding its roots, I’ve come to realise that this position – Reformed Evangelical Anglicanism - is quite a minority one. And it is humbling and somewhat scary; humbling in that I need to learn to be more tolerant and appreciative of the diversity of Christian traditions, and asserting I am right (even if I am right) in the hopes of convincing everyone else is already a failed historical experiment. So I definitely hope to be quicker to listen when someone speaks about Christianity differently, and try to understand the backgrounds and presuppositions that have shaped his doctrines and practices.

     And it is scary because for me this raises the question of truth: either some Christians are wrong, or nobody is right. The latter cannot be true, so it has to be the former. But what would that look like? Who determines who’s wrong and right? Protestantism would say take Scripture as the highest authority, but so many denominations claim to do so, yet interpret and apply things so differently. In other words, is there a single way to be Christian, or to do Christian ministry? These are, for me, nagging unanswered questions.

     However, Shelley argues that one thing unites all Christians – the Person Jesus Christ – and I wouldn’t dare disagree. Perhaps methodology may differ, perhaps there is a ‘better’ way of doing things. But what’s likely more important is that people are turning to Christ in repentance and faith and seeking to live under his lordship until he returns, all to God’s glory. I can see a picture of that in the international community here at Christchurch Durham. There’s a Brethren and some Methodists (this is, unfortunately not too diverse a group, but I think it illustrates my point), and though I disagree with many things they believe in, I am unashamed to call them brothers and sisters in Christ and to be ministers of the gospel together. Maybe, just maybe. (Also, I’ll try to ‘convert’ them in the process, haha! XD)

     I remember an illustration our student pastor uses to talk about Christian unity. He talks about planting the gospel flag in the ground, and all who run to it – those are who we will be united with. Sounds pretty similar to what Jesus says in Matthew 12:49 ‘And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.”’

The Christian's Ode to Joy

This is arguably the best talk I've heard on the issue of not feeling what I know to be gospel truths. 

Don't listen to ourselves; talk to ourselves, for truth lies outside of us - in God's Word. 

"What is Literature?" - A Peek

     Let’s start with this quote from Tony Bennett: ‘the uniqueness of ‘literature’ consists in its tendency to ‘defamiliarise’ experience.’

     Thus, the simple answer to the proposed question is this: literature is any work which causes us to think and feel anew – that is, experience something as though for the first time. Well, admittedly, this doesn’t sound smart, nor does it sound complicated – but I think it is really important. Let’s explore why.

     Almost 100 years ago, a smart guy from Russia called Viktor Shklovsky identified a problem in his society. He quotes Leo Tolstoy who says ‘if the whole life of many people is lived unconsciously, it is as if this life had never been.’ Shklovsky chillingly elaborates, saying that ‘this is how life becomes nothing and disappears. Automatization eats things, clothes, furniture, your wife and the fear of war.’

     Two words are worth exploring: ‘unconsciously’ and ‘automatization.’ What Shklovsky has in mind is that once an experience is repeated - and in our age, so many things are on repeat – it becomes a habit, and routine actions become automatic. For example, I was lost during the first few days of my arrival in Durham and everything looked fresh and new. Now, after having lived here for almost a year and a half, I’ve lost the initial feelings I had when I first experienced the city. Now, I ‘recognise’ things instead of ‘see’ things. In other words, we are being routinely desensitised to life; ours is a numbed existence where we embark on a wild goose hunt for success and dreams, only to find waiting at the end of the rainbow – the sniggering face of Death.

     Literature then, is that which ‘restores the sensation of life, in order to make us feel things, in order to make a stone stony.’ This re-sensitising us to ‘the sensation of life’ is achieved primarily through ‘defamiliarisation.’ This simply means that we describe things differently. I’d like to take a look at this short story a friend (Clarissa, who blogs here) wrote, called ‘AlternateFrequencies:’

"There are many differences between him and her: skin colour, bank balance, number of years they have carried on their shoulders. They travel in alternate frequencies, destined not to meet.

Everyday at 3.15pm, however, he would wait outside her school door, the hot sun pressing down upon him. The beads of sweat slide agonizingly on his forehead like the condensation of his sugar cane drink.

There she is. Her designer schoolbag on her back, her latest iPhone, the heavy textbooks she carries with one hand – all reminders of the dissonance between him and her. Her eyes cut across the after-school din to meet his.

She approaches him, and gets inside the backseat of the car (not his). He revs up his engine and drives.

And finally silence settles.

All the other drivers told him he was lucky, he was paid so well. All her classmates told her it was good she was driven around. But no one saw the tragedy of the silence. 

They travel in alternate frequencies. They cannot, do not, make conversation."

     In her recounting the scene of a driver escorting his employer’s daughter home from school, Clarissa draws attentions to the disparity between the two characters – whose lives, though vastly different, intersect in a seemingly mundane moment. This ability to capture the imagination, I believe, lies in the disinterested narrator’s careful attention to details. For, although we see a lot of things: the waiting driver, the schoolbag, the iPhone and etc.; and we hear equally much: the after-school din, the revving engine, the voices of other drivers and classmates – there is finally and ultimately, an alienating silence.

     I believe many of us have witnessed scenes similar to this, but have never felt moved like we would have when reading the short story. There is nothing inherently significant about the story. Its effectiveness in communicating emotions is achieved simply by defamiliarising our habitualised perception. Thus, returning to our quotation at the start: ‘the uniqueness of ‘literature’ consists in its tendency to ‘defamiliarise’ experience,’ we begin to see how unpretentious, yet powerful this tool of defamiliarisation can be.

     This, is what I would consider the ‘literariness’ of a text: its ability to make one see and experience life.

PS: I hope I have not misread Clarissa’s short story. XD