Newsflash: The New Testament is Shorter
Call me Captain Obvious if you like, but the New Testament is shorter than the Old Testament. I was thinking about this the other day and it occurred to me that in some sense the length of the two covenant documents speaks to the relationship between the covenants themselves and what is required of the people who are part of those covenants.
Simply asking the question, 'Why is the New Testament shorter?' helps us to see the nature of the covenants in contrast. For example, here are at least two parts of the answer that I would give you to that question:
1. There are no genealogies in the New Testament
One of the things that makes the Old Testament longer is the accumulation of stories of family lines. So, for example, the story of Judah and Tamar in Genesis 38 is vital because it records God's preservation of the line of Judah. The Old Testament is filled with both genealogies and narratives that preserve bloodlines.
The New Testament, on the other hand, has no genealogies (except for that of Jesus, which is the climax of the Old Testament). There are no stories of fathers and children, no stories of family lines being preserved.
This makes the New Testament shorter. It also illustrates one of the fundamental differences between the covenants. The older covenant was passed on from generation to generation through bloodlines and families (Gen 15.3-5), while the newer is passed on through gospel proclamation and faith (2 Tim 2.2). Therefore, the New Testament simply has the book of Acts which records how the gospel was proclaimed and believed. That's all there is for narrative. There is no ongoing record of families which must be saved because God's people will now be made up of 'all nations' as they become disciplines... adopted children.
2. There is no case law in the New Testament
A second reason why the Old Testament is longer is because Moses and many prophets after him are forced to belabour the teaching of the Law in any and every imaginable context (and even some rather unimaginable ones!). Every time I read through the Old Testament I'm amazed at some of the case law and think to myself, 'Really? Someone did that? And they needed to set a precedent law against it?'
In the New Testament, however, there is a distinct lack of laws (note: I didn't say distinct lack of Law). You would think that as the New Covenant was being received and applied across cultural boundaries and geographical regions and religious backgrounds there would be a lot more Acts 15-type-moments. But in reality, there aren't, simply because the New Covenant isn't about setting case law. That's not the nature of this covenant.
For example, when the Corinthians ask Paul about whether or not they are free to eat meat sacrificed to idols, he does not deliver case law that is binding on all Christians. Rather, he holds up the ideal of freedom and then allows it to be swallowed up by the law of love so that individual Christians simply cannot answer the ethical question without coming face to face with the question, 'What is love and am I willing to be governed by it?' (see 1 Corinthians 8-10). He does the same thing again when it comes to the exercise of spiritual gifts (see 1 Corinthians 12-14). Love is the law that governs all of Christian behaviour in the New Testament (John 13.34-35).
And so it is written...
When you've only got one law that trumps in any and every situation, and you don't have to record genealogies and family histories spanning thousands of years, you can write a much shorter covenant document. Which is precisely what we have.
How Do You Feel About Predestination?
Abraham & Isaac
The doctrine of God's electing individuals to salvation, apart from any good in them (either actual or foreseen) is known as unconditional election (o predestination). It is exemplified in Isaac's twin sons: '...when Rebekah had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God's purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls—she was told, "The older will serve the younger." As it is written, "Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated"' (Romans 9.10-13).
Predestination is a doctrine that is often at the centre of controversy. And too often the controversy could be quelled, if not quenched, by a calm tongue and a gentle answer (Prov 15.1). But too much of the time those who believe the most strongly in predestination are (rightly or wrongly) associated with pride and arrogance and preachiness, rather than humility, gentleness, and love.
But that should never be.
That's just one of the reasons why I loved reading this in the 1689 London Baptist Confession of faith the other day:
The doctrine of the high mystery of predestination is to be handled with special prudence and care, that men attending the will of God revealed in his Word, and yielding obedience thereunto, may, from the certainty of their effectual vocation, be assured of their eternal election; so shall this doctrine afford matter of praise, reverence, and admiration of God, and of humility, diligence, and abundant consolation to all that sincerely obey the gospel. (1 Thessalonians 1:4, 5; 2 Peter 1:10; Ephesians 1:6; Romans 11:33; Romans 11:5, 6, 20; Luke 10:20)
That's a big mouthful, but basically it's saying that this isn't a doctrine to be wielded like an ax, to wound our enemies, but should be applied carefully, like a balm to give courage to wounded souls, and like a call to worship for those who embrace it and are humbled by God's grace. For those who know the doctrines of grace and love them, this should be the very thing which calls forth our humility and our worship like nothing else. It should never be a source of pride and it is not a doctrine to be handled flippantly.
So how do you feel about predestination? Does it make you condemn those who don't understand it? Or does it make you marvel at God's mercy?
The Pendulum Drives Everything
A pendulum
The pendulum drives everything. Okay, maybe not everything, but most things.
What we perceive to be an excess in one direction drives us to correct the balance by moving in the other direction. Over and over and over. I've seen this in other people and I've seen it in myself.
The more we run from doctrinal error that we see in others, the more likely we are to fall into the opposite error ourselves. An over-the-top notion of male headship leads to the rise of feminism. An over-emphasis on the sovereignty of God leads to open theism. A preacher who makes a huge deal out of minor issues will eventually find that people stop listening to the things which actually are important. If my friends discipline their kids too much, I want to bring balance to the universe by letting my kids run wild.
For every wrong over-emphasis there is an equal and opposite corresponding over-emphasis in the other direction. More often than not when I have made a theological move it has been as much about moving away from something I perceived to be wrong as it is moving toward something I perceived to be right. That's not entirely wrong, but I think it does warrant caution.
It has made me want to move slower and ask more questions.
- Is the content of the position really erroneous or has it just been given inappropriate weight?
- If I am moving from an extreme position, am I moving to an extreme position? Is there a middle-ground?
- What is good in the position I'm rejecting that I stand to lose?
- If I'm rejecting something because I feel like I don't like it, why do I feel like that?
- Who am I following? Are they prone to unnecessary extremes?
- Does the measure of my passion for this issue reflect the Bible's passion for and clarity on this issue?
I don't know. Maybe I'm just getting old and mellow. But it seems to me that if we're always moving between extremes, we're probably passing the truth somewhere in the middle every time. And if I'm just always stuck on the same extreme, I'm probably always just as far away from the truth as I was before.
The trick, I think, is to be pulled to truth like a magnet to its pole rather than to be pulled away from extremes to opposite extremes. Easy to say, harder to live.
I pray that God, by his grace, would allow me to cultivate a deep enough longing for truth in my heart that I would pursue truth out of an ever-increasingly-pure and purified mind that is willing to be wrong, willing to change, willing to believe what I may not like at first, and willing to stay put even when it seems like it would be nicer to change camps.
And I also pray that he would give me friends who observe me carefully and tell me when I'm just over-reacting.
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** This is written as part of the series 30 for 30: Reflections on Life at My 30th Birthday **
Jesus is So Obviously God
For those who have eyes to see, it couldn't be clearer: Jesus is God. It's everywhere in Scripture.
Of course there are a few key proof texts that can be used in isolation, but really it is the whole storyline of the Bible that, when brought together, can leave us with no other impression than this: Jesus is the ultimate revelation of God because 'in him the whole fullness of deity dwells' (Col 2.9).
I see this all the time in studying, but thought I'd just share this one because it struck me as particularly glorious today.
I'm studying to preach the last half of Mark 10 (verses 32-52). In this section Jesus prophesies his coming death and resurrection, in which he will bear the wrath of God (handed over to the Gentiles, drinking the cup, enduring the baptism -- all biblical images for the wrath of God) in order to 'ransom' (could also be translated 'redeem') 'many.'
Now, right away that should stick out to us for a number of reasons. Not the least of which is Psalm 49.7, which says, 'Truly no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life.' So how can Jesus, then, if he is just a man, ransom 'many' with his life? Something bigger is clearly happening here. That gets drawn out more as we turn to Isaiah 44.
The burden of this section of Isaiah (40-48) is twofold: (1) God will redeem his people from exile -- a second 'Exodus'; and (2) the fact that he announces beforehand what he will do is what clearly sets him alone apart as God. That God has the power to act to redeem his people and the ability to declare the future before it happens are the two things that make it clear to Israel that he is God and there is no other.
So I find it pretty awesome that in Mark 10, just before Jesus enters Jerusalem to be rejected by Israel he is (1) declaring that he will redeem his people, and, (2) declaring it in advance, before it comes to pass. For anyone with eyes to see, it's there to be seen.
What I love though, is that if you read Isaiah 44 in light of Mark 10 and Jesus's impending conflicts in Jerusalem, it becomes even more glorious:
- I am the Lord ... who turns wise men back and makes their knowledge foolish (Isa 44.24-25)
- [I am the Lord ... who says] of Jerusalem, 'She shall be built,' and of the temple, 'Your foundation shall be laid.' (Isa 44.28)
Isn't that exactly what Jesus is about to do, beginning in the very next chapter? Confrontation after confrontation with the 'wise' of Israel, until no one dares to ask him any more questions, because he turns them back in their 'wisdom,' making their foolishness evident to all (Mark 12.34). And isn't the very charge brought against him by the Sanhedrin that the temple will be destroyed (Mark 13) but that he will 'lay the foundation' and rebuild it (Mark 14.58)?
As the narrative of Jesus's life unfolds, the gospel writers make it clear for any with ears to hear: this Jesus does what God himself said only he could do. From the forgiving of sins and the cleansing of sinners to the ransoming of a people and the rebuilding of the true temple, all has been declared ahead of time that when Jesus comes we will know that in him we see our God.
The Omnipresence of God
** This is written as part of the series 30 for 30: Reflections on Life at My 30th Birthday **
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There is nothing that changes lives like doctrine. Right doctrine leads to right living. Always. Paul puts it in no uncertain terms when he reminds Timothy why he was left at Ephesus:
As I urged you when I was going to Macedonia, remain at Ephesus so that you may charge certain persons not to teach any different doctrine, nor to devote themselves to myths and endless genealogies, which promote speculations rather than the stewardship from God that is by faith. The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. (1 Tim 1.3-5)
If life change is the goal, then right doctrine is a must. What can happen sometimes, though, when it comes to doctrine, is that we think we need new, bigger, better, deeper theology. We think we need to see something we've never seen before. We think we need something more impressive than the Sunday School stuff we learned so long ago.
In reality, however, the one doctrine that I have neglected that has most affected my life these past 30 years is not something fancy-schmancy (like, say, supralapsarianism), but is in fact something quite simple. It's a truth that even the smallest child in church knows. But it's a truth that I astoundingly almost never consider: God is omnipresent.
Here's what blows my mind: The fact that God is everywhere means that God is here with me now, and present in the room every moment of every day and every night of my life.
We see the power in this thought when we hear the question: 'Would you do / say / think that if God were here?' And of course, we immediately feel guilt and stop what we were doing. But the question is wrong. God is here. Our acting / saying / thinking in an ungodly manner was simply exposing the fact that we don't really believe in the omnipresence of God--just in the potential omnipresence of God (thinking that he could show up at any moment).
Honestly, how would you work if you saw God sitting behind you? What movie would you watch if Jesus came over to your house? Or would you even watch a movie? What types of conversations would you engage in if you could see the Holy Spirit's presence?
After growing up in a home where I learned the Bible from a young age, and after being a Christian all these years, I am consistently astounded at how often I fail to live like God is omnipresent. I shudder to think of all the things he has seen me do 'in secret' and all the thoughts he has heard me whisper when 'no one will hear.' I weep to think of all the time I've spent in my life in his presence without even speaking to him.
But, as with every doctrine that is true of God, it helps me to grow in my appreciation of his grace to me in Jesus. Even though he has seen what he has seen, he loves me. He is patient with me. He endures living in my presence, even though I ignore him more often than not. He is gracious and kind, patient and loving. His longsuffering mercy is simply astonishing. The grace that he shows me everyday by continuing to be present with me (and at the same time not destroying me!), humbles me. That kind of amazing grace compels me to obedience--I just need to remember it more!
If God will give me 30 more years of life, I pray that they will be lived with an ever-increasing sense of the reality of his presence. I want to live all of my life just as if God were in the room with me--because he is.
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