Life is hard

Haven't posted anything in a long time for various. The title pretty much sums things up.

Since beginning work, I've become acutely aware of my shortcomings - in every aspect of my life. Be it work, personal life, church, relationships, I am sub-par. Sure there are times I can bluff my way out of situations, but the truth surfaces and I'm always found wanting.

Thankfully God is good, even when life is hard. For now, that's the only thing keeping me sane. It's always humbling to know that the Christian God is a personal God, and that he understands the pain human beings go through.

I am a failure, thankfully he isn't.

Thoughts on Evangelism

Today in my church's Growth Group, we were looking at Luke 13:10-21, and towards the end of the study, our focus was on the topic of evangelism.

Soon after, as a group, we talked about how we might step out of our comfort zones and do some evangelism. A couple of ideas were thrown out - I managed to plug YFC - and we ended up deciding to do a hospital visit, with the goal of sharing the gospel to the patients. 

I have very little experience sharing the gospel to the elderly, and the last time I did something similar was some years back, so this will be akin to a new experience. I merely hope that as a Growth Group, our desire to share the gospel does not end with this visit. 

I find this hymn both encouraging and challenging whenever I consider my own evangelistic efforts. 

On the larger topic of evangelism, being back in Malaysia meant that I am now more involved with YFC. I've been reminded that evangelism is tough work for me - it takes a large toll on my energy levels, be it physical, mental or emotional. At the same time, I've become aware of its significance in a different way, perhaps starting work has changed my perception about people, and how to do evangelism well. After all, sharing the gospel is one of the outward signs of someone seeking to follow Jesus. So I've become more concerned with the 'right living' aspect - that our theology (right thinking) must lead to a distinctly Christian life (right living). And one aspect of that is living a cross-shaped life (cf. Luke 9:23), which means that sacrifice is needed, and a cost must be paid if we choose to follow Jesus. 

Anyways, I need to find more like-minded Christians. I sometimes feel like I'm living the Christian life alone. 

Learned a new song at church

Our church has just started a sermon series in Mark's gospel beginning from 8:27. 

We learned this song today. The lyrics are good, the melody too - simple and hymnic. 

I especially like the closing four lines of the second stanza: 

See the King who made the sun
And the moon and shining stars
Let the soldiers hold and nail Him down
So that He could save them. 

The irony in those lines is extremely evocative. First we are presented with a picture of Christ's role in creation; we are taken in flight to consider the beauty and majesty of the cosmos - then suddenly we are brought back to the dirt and grime the cross. And those hands submits to the weakness of men - all in order to save those who would have him killed. I think it is simply astounding.

Cheers for good gospel songs!

Some thoughts on the human condition - free will

In conversations with Christians who disagree, or are uncomfortable with Reformed (or Calvinist) soteriology, the notion that God chooses some, and not others, unconditionally – and God’s choosing (election) is the determining factor of whether someone believes in the gospel - is passionately contested. To rephrase the Reformed position: God elects His people, therefore His people believe. The causation here is not simply related to possibility, but to actuality. This means that God’s elect are 1) enabled (rather than just ‘able’) to believe; therefore 2) will believe. These two aspects are important when contrasted to the state of the non-elect (i.e., the reprobate). They are 1) unable(d) to believe, therefore 2) will not believe.

I know many people have many issues with this necessarily abbreviated formulation (I hope it is clear at least), but in this post I would like to address one of the rejoinders I have heard, which is that this removes the individual’s freedom to accept or reject God, and if individuals do not have this freedom, then God is cruel and unfair. Let us call this the ‘free will’ position. Simply put, every person has only two choices, which carry implications: 1) believe the gospel, or ‘love God,’ and so enjoy all the benefits of being His people; 2) reject God and so face judgment and punishment.

Right, so let us consider the ‘free will’ argument heuristically from the perspective of ‘love:’ since God loves us (all human beings), He gives us free will to choose whether to reciprocate that love. Coerced love is not love. Love – by definition, must be voluntary. Here’s a short clip of renowned Christian apologist Ravi Zecharias articulating this point: 

Ravi says ‘[y]ou cannot have love without the freedom of the will (2:56).’ Although Ravi is not talking about God’s election in salvation, he does touch upon the issue regarding the choice of human beings to love God (i.e., believe the gospel): 

‘If love is a supreme ethic, and freedom is indispensable to love; and God’s supreme goal for you and for me is that we will love Him with all of our hearts, and love our neighbours as ourselves, for Him to violate our free will would be to violate that which is a necessary component so that love can flourish, and love can be expressed […] (3:16).’

Ravi expresses this beautifully, and it seems to make sense. My objection is not that love must be a voluntary act of volition; it is rather than the human will is ‘free.’ What Christians mean when we talk about ‘human free will’ is 1) frequently unclear, and 2) often seems to be contrary to the Bible’s understanding of the human will. To address the first problem, here’s an Arminian’s definition of ‘free will’ which I will adhere to:  

‘Power of contrary choice is the typical Arminian view of free will. In philosophy this is known as non-compatibilist freedom or libertarian freedom. In this view, “free will” means being able to do otherwise. In other words, in this view, you are only acting freely when and if you could do otherwise than you do. And this does not just mean “physical ability” to do otherwise; it means real ability — that you genuinely could have chosen to do something else but intellectually chose the course of action you took even if you actually preferred something else.’

This definition is important, because 1) I think this is generally how Ravi conceives of free will, and 2) in the following extract, I think the author uses the word ‘free’ in this way. This is an extended passage by Richard Hays excerpted from the chapter on homosexuality in The Moral Vision of the New Testament. He writes of the fallen human condition:

‘The biblical analysis of the human predicament, most sharply expressed in Pauline theology, offers a subtle account of human bondage to sin. As great-grandchildren of the Enlightenment, we like to think of ourselves as free moral agents, choosing rationally among possible actions, but Scripture unmasks that cheerful illusion and teaches us that we are deeply infected by the tendency to self-deception. As Jeremiah lamented, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately corrupt; who can understand it?" (Jer. 17:9, RSV). Romans 1 depicts humanity in a state of self-affirming confusion: "They became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools … They know God's decree, that those who practice such things deserve to die - yet they not only do them but applaud others who practice them" (Rom. 1:21-22, 32). Once in a fallen state, we are not free not to sin: we are "slaves of sin" (Rom. 6:17), which distorts our perceptions, overpowers our will, and renders us incapable of obedience (Rom. 7). Redemption (a word that means "being emancipated from slavery") is God's act of liberation, setting us free from the power of sin and placing us within the sphere of God's transforming power for righteousness (Rom. 6:20-22, 8:1-11, cf. 12:1-2).

Thus, the Bible's sober anthropology rejects the apparently commonsense assumption that only freely chosen acts are morally culpable. Quite the reverse: the very nature of sin is that it is not freely chosen. That is what it means to live "in the flesh" in a fallen creation. We are in bondage to sin but still accountable to God's righteous judgment of our actions. In light of this theological anthropology, it cannot be maintained that a homosexual orientation is morally neutral because it is voluntary (p. 390, underline mine).’

Three comments on the underlined sections:

1)     (First two underlined sentences) I think Hays is spot-on in pointing out that many Christians nowadays approach the Bible with modern presuppositions, which are frequently not shared by the biblical authors. It is detrimental to our reading of the Bible and to our living out its truths if we import concepts which are alien to the Bible. The applicability and relevance of the Bible which transcends the limits of culture and time do not diminish its situated-ness in a particular historical context. We need to be wary of constructing theological categories which are not grounded in Scripture.

2)    (Third underline) I think the key phrase is ‘[o]nce in a fallen state.’ The Bible tells us that the sinner is completely under the power of sin. The uninformed Arminian would disregard the bondage of the human will to sin, and conceive of the natural human being as neutral, that is, they have an equal chance of being good or being bad – this easily leads to either Pelagianism or semi-Pelagianism, both of which are heresies. The informed Arminian, however, would affirm with the Calvinist that the human will is in bondage to sin and cannot choose God unless He enables them to do so. The distinguishing factor is that in the Arminian view, the freed will can choose to reject the gospel, that is, God’s saving grace is resistible; whereas for the Calvinist, the freed will cannot reject the gospel – God’s saving grace is irresistible. (Perhaps I will write another post(s) exploring the similarities and differences between the two theological systems.)

3)    (Fourth underline) This is the other implication of free will (cf. para. 2). Thus, some Christians contend that if there is no free will, how can one be genuine responsible for one’s actions? Hays debunks the notion that responsibility - being ‘morally culpable’ - is contingent on free will. Here, however, he does not explain why this is the case. (Perhaps I will explore this issue in another post.) I think what Hays writes here can be used as a critique of the ‘popular’ meaning of free will. In other words, there is no free will, but sinners are still morally accountable to God.

To conclude, we began with the topic of election, then moved to the issue of free will, then to the question of the human condition. I hope the trajectory of this post makes some sense as I attempted to show how these theological issues are interrelated. I acknowledge that these are complex questions, and I definitely need to spend more time thinking about them.

But why is this important? Firstly, this is about growing in our Bible reading; secondly, as Christians, we need to remember who we were. Paul writes in Ephesians 2:1 ‘and you were dead in your trespasses and sins,’ and in 1 Cor. 6:9-11 ‘don’t you know that the unrighteous will not inherit God’s kingdom? […] And some of you used to be like this.’ Nevertheless, in both instances, amazing ‘but’s’ followed ‘but God, who is rich in mercy […]’ (Eph. 2:4); ‘but you were washed […]’ (1 Cor. 6:11). The glory of God’s liberating grace shines ever brighter when we acknowledge the utter darkness of when we were slaves of sin.  

From Solution to Plight

Recently, I have been reading Stephen Westerholm’s Israel’s Law and the Church’s Faith: Paul and His Recent Interpreters. So far, it has been a fascinating read. Firstly, he reviews the recent scholarly debate, and then offers his own thoughts. The chapters in Part Two are: i) Matters of Definition, ii) Justification by Faith, iii) The Law in God’s Scheme, iv) The Law and Christian Behaviour, and v) Paul’s Contribution.

For me, justification by faith and the issue of ‘the Law’ are arguably the most important aspects of Paul’s thought. In other words, how does Paul – a former Jew steeped in Scripture – make sense of how Jesus transforms his reading of the Old Testament? Because surely for Paul, the way he read the Hebrew Scriptures prior to the Damascus road was surely diametrically different from how he later understood, and preached it.

So in our church Bible studies, we are currently studying Paul’s letter to the Romans. It has been great, diving (quite deeply) into this epistle, especially in exploring Paul’s mature thought process. Right, so here’s the connection between Westerholm’s book and Romans that I want to highlight: he suggests that in Paul’s thinking, he begins with Jesus’ death, and then moves logically backwards to diagnose the problem. Hence, from solution to plight.

This formulation is from E. P. Sanders, of whom most Evangelicals (I think) would say is wrong. There is definitely an Evangelical suspicion of the New Perspective on Paul (NPP), but though their suspicion is warranted, I think that dialogue is still important. Anyway, back to my point, when I first read this, I was pretty fascinated, because many of the arguments do make sense.

This is an abstract from Westerholm’s summary of Sanders’ arguments:

“What Paul begins with is the conviction that only belonging to Christ brings salvation. “For Paul, the conviction of a universal solution preceded the conviction of a universal plight” (Paul and Palestinian Judaism, 474). If this, as Sanders argues, is the case, then the starting-point of Paul’s thought can hardly be any sense that the effort to keep the law was misdirected. Whatever the criticisms Paul may bring against the law, they all presuppose his faith in Christ” (p. 83).

He makes an important point that the problem of the law is not it led to self-righteousness or legalism, but that it did not lead to the righteousness of faith. (At this point, it is crucial to point out that when I use ‘law,’ I generally mean the moral commandments of the Mosaic code. There is no space here to explain why. The short answer is that, having read Westerholm’s arguments, they sound pretty convincing. His points in a nutshell, Paul’s way of talking about the law emphasises that it is something which demands works, hence, moral injunctions.) This is important because I think many Christians understand Judaism to essentially mean works-salvation. It might be helpful, but that is probably not the opponent that Paul was engaging with. I might be accused of being nit-picky about things, but if our diagnosis of the disease is different from Paul’s diagnosis, then our understanding of the solution Paul presents might be different from what he intended.

NOTE: I do not think it would be radically different, but nuances are very important. Furthermore, is it not the Christian’s duty and desire to better understand our Bibles, to correct misconceptions – however small?

Right, that is a long (but I think necessary) preamble. What I really want to say is that the case for Paul thinking first about the solution, and moving backwards to articulating the human predicament, is a pretty strong one:

“It is certainly true that Paul did not start with a conviction about the hopelessness of the human predicament under sin, then grasp at Christ as the answer to the dilemma. On the other hand, Paul inherited – he did not first posit – the notion that Christ’s death was “for our sins” (the traditional phrase in 1 Cor. 15:3; cf. Rom. 3:25; 4:24-25, etc.); hence, broadly speaking, the solution imposed its own view of the human plight on Paul, and the plight thus defined was no more an option to Paul than was the solution itself. That a conviction of universal sin cannot be independently proven is no reason for thinking it less than fundamental to Paul. Moreover, the conviction itself dictates neither a particular view of the origin of sin nor a precise definition of the nature of its power. Paul’s wrestlings with these latter issues [...] confirms rather than undermines the central place occupied by sin in Paul’s thinking about the human plight. Surely a belief that God’s Son died for the sins of humanity would lead Paul to take human sin with an awesome earnest” (p. 160-1)!

A closing thought. This might mean nothing to anyone who reads this, and that is alright (I hope). But as a Literature student, I am convinced that if we can understand a text better, and it is worth it to do so, then by all means we should attempt it. And I think the Bible ticks both boxes – it probably ticks a lot more boxes! Perhaps on a pastoral level, nothing has changed, sin still logically precedes God’s solution; the slight nuance though, is that our view of how sin relates to law will probably vary. 

God’s sovereignty and Beauty and the Beast

I watched the live action Beauty and the Beast film yesterday. Initially, I thought I would be very disappointed; I am not a Disney fanatic, also, I am not a big fan of romance stories. However, I found the movie quite enjoyable. I must say though, that I think that the overall acting was mediocre – perhaps with the exception of Gaston (played by Luke Evans, who played Bard in Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit) and the singing average. But I definitely enjoyed the score; I thought the arrangements were great, particularly poignant where they needed to be. I really felt like I was being transported into the world of the film just through the music. Nevertheless, I must say that I am no film nor music critic, these are just my personal responses.

But my aim in this post is not so much to talk about the film in general, but about how elements in it help illustrate the doctrines surrounding the sovereignty of God. The context which steered my thoughts towards this direction is that a week ago I attended my student church’s annual Student Conference, and the theme was ‘The Lord Reigns’ taken from Psalm 97. The view of God’s sovereignty taught at this conference unsurprisingly, safely falls under the banner of the Reformed tradition. In other words, God’s sovereignty – His freedom to do whatever He pleases – is the ultimate determining factor for anything that happens in the world. In John Piper’s words, ‘there are no maverick molecules.’ A couple of international students (Singaporeans mostly) disagree with this notion; their objections usually revolve around the issue of evil, and the role of human choice (or ‘free will’) in salvation.

Personally, I have no issue with the compatibilist view (there should be a reference to D. A. Carson here, but I am not sure where exactly. I suspect that he states this in his How Long O Lord.) that God is totally in control, but that human beings are still totally held accountable for our actions. I will admit that there are plenty of philosophical problems with this proposal, but perhaps the philosophical approach is a deficient one. I think that narrative theology is a better heuristic for navigating the issues surrounding this hotly-debated topic. This means that instead of moving away from the Bible into philosophical speculation, it might be more helpful to go into the Bible to see how it holds God’s absolute sovereignty in tension with genuine human choice and responsibility (note that I do not use the phrase ‘free will,’ because the phrase is ill-defined and its usage often leads to further confusion. Also I do not think the Bible teaches it).

Right, that was a long and unexpected preamble, but it sets the scene, and hopefully explains why I think using this version of Beauty and the Beast as an illustration has potential. (There might be spoilers if you have not watched the film; if you have not, what I talk about might not be useful.)  

Issue 1: Someone is in control.

An interesting detail of the plot I noticed was that Maurice (Belle’s father) stumbles upon the castle because a lightning strikes a tree which blocks his path, forcing him to take an alternative route. This might just be coincidence, but later when he tries to lead Gaston to the castle, the tree is back to normal. For me, this suggests that someone is working behind the scenes, allowing or even enabling Maurice to find the castle, but later withholding that ability. This seemingly incidental detail is actually the fulcrum upon which the whole story hinges, and there are definitely hints that someone has ordained incidents to occur in the way they do. One might further add that the rose petals drop dramatically, and suspiciously too quickly with Belle’s appearance. And so the prevailing mood of the story is that of expectancy. I suggest that expectancy is the corollary to someone being shaping events.

Issue 2: Characters make real choices.

Despite this ‘invisible hand,’ the choices the characters make are presented as wholly theirs, in that they bear the responsibility and consequences of their action. There is no recourse to fate or a higher power. Existence is rooted in the everyday decision-making of the characters. It is this real choice to love that drives the focus of the narrative, that we choose to see behind (or beneath) the outward into what is inside. The story is not so much about inner beauty triumphing over external trappings; rather it is about consciously recognising that what we see on the outside is literally only skin-deep.

Synthesis:

The story holds both together. The figure of the enchantress appears at various points of the film, suggesting that events are not as random as they seemed. She is not merely a convenient gap-filler; rather, she quietly, behind-the-scenes arranges events so that they culminate in a happy ending. Nowhere in the film do human choice and the enchantress’ role contradict or erase the other. They certainly conflict, albeit in an implicit, almost unnoticeable manner. This situation is similar to that the picture that the Bible paints of God’s sovereignty working through (or alongside) human choice. Tensions or conflicts exist, but the Bible does not opt for convenient explanations. The genre of narrative allows this silence. It might be unsatisfactory, but I think it is an important element of the Bible.

Issue 3: What about the bad guys?

Gaston, unlike the Beast, is not given a second chance. In the film, he falls to his (assumed) death. I think viewers are meant to see that scene and think to themselves that justice is served. I suspect most viewers would not leave the film saying that it is not fair that he is not given a chance to ‘repent.’ In fact, I think he was given opportunity after opportunity to switch the course of his actions, but he chooses to walk down the path of destruction. I do think that this – however inadequately – captures the biblical depiction of God’s enemies. When they are defeated, we as readers are meant to rejoice that God has triumphed over evil, we are not meant to pity God’s enemies after the sentence has been pronounced and punishment dealt. Before that, yes, we implore people to repent and believe the gospel with genuine compassion. But when judgment comes, God’s enemies will receive their due reward, and God’s people will rejoice at that.

I know that these things can be hard to swallow, and I know that there’s so much more to be said. But what I hope to have done is show how Beauty and the Beast in some way, portrays the biblical picture of God’s sovereignty and human responsibility. Space has not permitted me to delve into Bible passages, knowledge of these have been assumed. Perhaps I will discuss some of those issues in further posts, but for now, I hope this brief reflection has opened some inroads into seeing how narrative theology sometimes ‘explains’ biblical truths in a different, but nevertheless helpful manner for Christians who find this doctrine hard to logically make sense of – the Bible, is after all, a narrative rather than a philosophy textbook.  

Genesis 1:1-2

I was in a dissertation workshop today and what our module convener said there struck me. He said that thinking and writing should never be separated. And I heartily agree, perhaps my inability to think writing has been due to my lack of writing. So I am trying to pick this habit up again. 

Also, in one of my classes, we are translating Genesis 1-9 from Hebrew to English. Our lecturer guides us, and he makes comments about the Bible as we progress. So I thought it might be worthwhile to write out my translation and record some of his insights. 

I know this might be dry for most people, but learning Hebrew has been one of the most exciting things I have done. I am beginning to realise that I like languages and words because there is a peculiar kind of power there - this power is not visually displayed. It of course engages the mind, but I think its true strength lies in its visceral effect. So I would like to invite you on my journey of hearing God speak in Genesis 1-9.

Translation:

(v1) In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

(v2) And the earth was formless/empty and void, and darkness was upon/over the face of the deep [lots of water], while [paratactic] the spirit of God was hovering upon/over the face of the waters.

Notes:

(v1)

There is no definite article in בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית (bereshit), but there are times when words about time are used in a definite sense, but do not have the definite article. (cf. Isa. 46:10; 40:21). Also, the Septuagint (Greek Old Testament which the NT writers referred to) translates 'In the beginning.'

Some would want to take v1 and 2 as the subordinate clause, making 'God said' in v3 the main clause. Their argument hinges on translating בְּרֵאשִׁ֖ית בָּרָ֣א (bereshit bara) as 'When God began to create.' This, however, is not supported by the text. People who translate thus seem to want to avoid saying creatio ex nihilo, because in this reading, there was not nothing (therefore something). I suspect they are going a bit too far in pushing their agenda. 

An interesting inter-textual reading (by earlier Jewish and Christian traditions) is to read this verse in light of Proverbs 8:22. There, wisdom is identified with 'the beginning.' Thus, God created with/by wisdom. I think the language is picked up in the NT, for example Col. 1:15-16.

(v2)

תֹ֙הוּ֙  (tohu) - the sense is not chaos but emptiness/nothingness (cf. Deut. 32:10). Thus the picture we see is that there was nothing - only darkness and the waters. (I haven't figured out why there is water - and what that might mean). Also, 'empty and void' is תֹ֙הוּ֙ וָבֹ֔הוּ (tohu vabohu), which has a nice ring to it. 

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.