CHURCH HISTORY: AD 1925 thru Today

NB: For readers who missed it, I suggest going back to review my setup to this section on church history to know about my disclaimers. For the graphics used in this post, the timelines are not to scale, and the dates represented are not intended to be exact. They are meant to be visual aids for understanding the larger conversation.

Fundamentalism and secular humanism continued to be locked in a fierce battle for “truth” for a decade. It would be worth answering the question that often goes unanswered in these conversations: What happened to the parts of Christendom that wouldn’t have aligned with fundamentalism? At this point in history, those who would have rejected fundamentalism often drifted towards theological liberalism. While the Church (in this century) would eventually learn how to have more progressive conversations and put more “options” on the table (rather than a simple bifurcated presentation of the argument), this is not that point in history. For much of [theological] liberalism, their position felt like a weak take on humanism, with Jesus slapped on the label.

The two options most 20th-century Christians had to choose from seem today like equally bad options; it also looked like Christianity, while putting up a good fight, was not going to have the staying power to outlast the run that humanism was putting together.

But that all ended with the arrival of World War II.

Any hope that humanity could usher in some utopian societal existence, whether it was by fascist, socialist, communist, or even democratic means, would come to a crashing end. Every humanistic worldview seemed to show its true self in the face of unbelievable genocide, communist oppression, and nuclear war. Simply put, humanity isn’t as great as we thought it was.

This gave Christianity a great and sudden turnaround that ushered in what I call the modern evangelistic era, and the eventual rise of the evangelical church. Fundamentalism gives way to a broader, softer version of itself in a wide representation of Protestant, American Christianity. While the beliefs that justify “evangelical orthodoxy” change depending on who you ask (even today), modern evangelicalism attempted to plant its flag and set up its defenses. It’s worth noting that we still find ourselves in this tension today. The “culture wars” of the current evangelical church are not the great Promised Land of our day, nor are they the last and final Armageddon we often want them to be. At best, they are simply the awkward phases of a modern evangelicalism that is going through a sociological “puberty” and, at worst, they are the final gasping breaths of a movement coming to a very unflattering end. We would do well to consider these things.

The modern evangelical movement was created by some of the greatest evangelists of our era. People like Billy Graham and Bill Bright (founder of Campus Crusade for Christ) helped the church navigate this very difficult era, giving the Church language for communicating the gospel like we had never seen. I believe history might look back on this era with a similar perspective to our view of the printing press and the Reformation. This modern evangelical push paved the way for cultural engagement like never before.

Evangelism was now in the hands of normal, everyday parishioners — not just the clergy and preachers in revival tents. The creation of the “Four Spiritual Laws” (no matter how you or I might feel about their theological accuracy) created a world where college students, coworkers, and soccer moms could articulate the movement of Jesus in simple language. The same resurgence of cultural engagement would eventually lead to what many from the 1970s call the “Jesus Movement” and the great testimonies of the movement of Jesus in people’s hearts. 

About the same time (the 1970s), the world of biblical scholarship was experiencing a new frontier, as well. While this is highly oversimplified, the work of Jacob Neusner changed the world of hermeneutics as we know it. Neusner, a Jewish literary scholar (not a Christian), was attempting to understand how modern Christian thought had influenced Jewish thought. As he brought modern Christian scholars (mostly Catholic) to the table, they found themselves learning lessons from Judaism that had gone missing some 1800 years ago. Realizing the impact this had on our understanding of the Bible, academic Christians would never again engage in scholastic research or archaeology without the aid of their Jewish brothers.

Many people have asked me, “How could we have not known this stuff for all these years?” The ridiculously simplistic answer is that we just hadn’t asked. Until the work of Neusner and others, Christendom had been too worried about doctrinal purity and theological rightness to ask basic questions about the Bible’s long-lost Jewish context. Since the turn of the century, many evangelical churches are beginning to experience the work of these scholars, finally “turning the corner” to our common knowledge.

I had professors who told me in college that new discoveries often took 20–30 years to find a presence in the Church. These new discoveries have to be vetted and then handed to the educational institutions (universities and seminaries), and then taught to the eventual pastors who would teach these things from pulpits (and through blog posts). Now, with the rise of the Internet, the distribution of this information — and all information (good and bad) — is increasing exponentially.

But that’s not the only thing that changed at the turn of the century. The world of science had also taken an unexpected turn. While the modern era produced a scientific belief that we would be able to figure out everything if given enough time (see how this fits so well with secular humanism?), the discovery of quantum science radically changed all of that. Some of the most basic principles of physics and Newtonian movement no longer applied in quantum science. The scientific world reeled in the implications of this development.

Combine this with the sociological realizations of this century, and we have a major shift in worldview. While humanism took a major hit, secularism was (and is) far from dead. In fact, since the days of the French Revolution, this might be the most shocking shift Christendom has yet to accept. While we talk about it often (“post-Christian culture”), we have not figured out how to respond well to it.

Enter: Postmodernity.

In the late 1990s, the cultural cry became, “What do we truly know, anyway?” Whether it was society or politics or science, it seemed like absolutes weren’t as absolute as we had once thought. While the Church cried out against what they perceived as moral relativism, the world moved on anyway. Some progressive evangelicals attempted to move with this cultural change, bringing the gospel back into the cultural conversation by creating what is known as the Emerging Church. Largely rejected by Evangelicalism (and, I would argue, no longer considered a viable approach to the “new day” of Christian thought — at least in its original form), the Emerging Church helped start some conversations that would set the stage for growth the Church needed to prepare for its survival.

And now, a decade or two later, we find ourselves at today. With the rise of decentralized consumerism (Uber, Airbnb, etc) and social networks changing the language of interaction everywhere, it’s hard to know exactly what lies just around the bend. Where is God calling us and what does any of this mean? Is there any hope at all for the future of Christianity? It seems like we have devolved into such a mess that it's hard to know what God would even approve of in our efforts.

Well, in fact, I believe we find ourselves (as every generation has) perfectly placed for the future.

CHURCH HISTORY: AD 700 thru AD 1000

NB: For readers who missed it, I suggest going back to review my setup to this section on church history to know about my disclaimers. For the graphics used in this post, the timelines are not to scale, and the dates represented are not intended to be exact. They are meant to be visual aids for understanding the larger conversation.

The next item that leads to major disagreement and arguments in the Byzantine Church is the use of images and icons. Often referred to as the Iconoclastic Controversy, this period of history would eventually put an end to the Byzantine period (at least as it is concerned with the papacy and the Holy Roman Church; some would extend the Byzantine Empire all the way to the Ottoman period, but I don’t find this useful for our purposes here).

The controversy stemmed from a major difference in mindsets — the eastern worldview versus the western worldview. If you’ve never heard of this discussion before, you could listen to my podcast on it. The two worlds interact with information and experiences in a completely different way. Neither one is more right or more wrong — they are simply different. As the Greeks rose to power and the western world came to dominate Europe and eventually spread over the globe, this controversy was bound to happen.

The relevant difference between the worlds for our conversation here is how they communicate truth. The westerner communicates truth with words, definitions, and prose. One can see this world at work clearly in the early stages of Christendom as we form creeds and doctrinal statements to be circulated throughout the empire. However, there is another side of the world that communicates truth using pictures and images. This is the eastern world of the Bible. In the world of the Bible, we had preserved the Text in a culture that was committing it to memory, and we had an education system that was dedicated to the preservation of the Text. When one maintained the Text and used images to convey its truth, this wasn’t nearly as problematic. But once we kicked out the Jews, we needed to figure out how to preserve the Text we were in danger of losing.

Now I certainly don’t mean the Text in its physicality. The monastic movements were working hard to preserve the physical (written) Text, but we have to remember we are dealing with a world that hadn’t seen the invention of the printing press. How do you preserve the Text in a world that has no distribution of printing (and is mostly illiterate)? The western world wrote down what the Text said; we’ll call it doctrine. The eastern world drew images and pictures to help them remember the content; these were called icons.

And the western world did not like icons.

One can understand the confusion. Most of my readers are likely western minded, and if they found themselves lost in an Eastern Orthodox church on a Sunday morning, they might be shocked to see people enjoying incense and praying at stations where they kneel in front of a picture or statue — an icon. To the westerner, this seems to be idolatry. The kneeling congregant is obviously worshipping the icon. But this is a misunderstanding of the eastern worldview. No eastern worshipper sees themselves as worshipping the icon. They are worshipping the God who lies behind the story the icon represents.

While a westerner listens to a lecture (sermon) and reads a book (the Text), the easterner hears a different kind of lecture (narrative) and reads a different kind of book (icon). In fact, the easterner could just as easily accuse the westerner of drifting away from the eastern world of the Bible and engaging in a new kind of doctrinal idolatry.

Nevertheless, this controversy took its toll on Christendom; the next 250 years would be a battle to hold a splintering kingdom together in unity. With the ending of the Byzantine papacy, the Holy Roman Church would find moments of hope in new leadership throughout this era. People like Boniface would help unite order under a struggling papacy, as would many others.

One of the more influential names is that of Charlemagne. One could look at Charlemagne with either critical eyes or eyes of admiration, but one thing is sure, Charlemagne is often called the Father of the West for uniting the Western Church unlike anybody had since the days of Constantine. Charlemagne led the Church on the path of productive renaissance, urging intellectual and spiritual revitalization. While the Middle Ages is certainly seen as a dark time (more on that later), the work of Charlemagne may be seen as a catalyst for the progress made during that era. (It was really the setup to the scientific revolution; for more on this, one could read this book by Hannam.)

Eventually, though, this unity and progress would not hold under the growing tension between the East and the West. With an empire as big as Rome itself, the West was finding it impossible to control their eastern brothers as they attempted to kick against the goads of western progress. At the turn of the first millennium, the great East-West Schism took place, tearing Christendom into what would be known as the Roman Church and the Eastern Orthodox Church. As the Western Church banked on the power of the papacy and what they saw as God-ordained authority, they made demands of their eastern brothers. These demands were refused and denounced.

The fact that half of the Christian empire simply denounced and tore away from the papal-led church left the West in shock and terror. To many, it seemed as though Christendom could never survive.

HEBREWS: Atonement 101

There’s one last conversation I would like to put on the table before we jettison the book of Hebrews: atonement. 

For many, the theology of atonement isn’t one that bothers them; they aren’t even aware there’s a “conversation” about it, and I hesitate to bring it up at all. But then I’m reminded of the other folks who have serious questions and I remember the importance and need to bring questions to the table. I know that years ago, I would have said atonement is at least the one thing all believers in Jesus understand clearly and believe in, but I have since come to realize this isn’t the case.

And I’m glad.

I’m glad because as I’ve continued to study the Bible and theology, I have found the way we talk about atonement alarming at times, to say the least. I was once in a church service where the teacher was telling a story about how his daughter had recently been harassed by a man at her workplace. Week after week, this person would make her uncomfortable and she would take great measures to avoid him. On a family excursion out of town, coincidentally, they ran into the individual at a department store. The preacher explained how he put his daughter behind him and stood in front of her, shielding her from the individual’s view, so when he came around the corner he didn’t see the daughter, but the larger, more intimidating dad. The preacher then said, “That’s what Jesus does for you. When God looks at you, He doesn’t see you. He sees Jesus standing in front of you.”

My mouth dropped open as I realized he had just allegorically equated God the Father to a sociopathic predator, and the room nodded in agreement, muttering soft “amens” and “hallelujahs” under their breath.

That is disturbing theology.

But I’m thankful for the conversation, because I had very similar questions about my understanding of atonement when I was growing up. Logically speaking, isn’t this where evangelical theology has to land? It was liberating to find the conversation surrounding atonement is much bigger than I was aware.

I bring this up in the book of Hebrews because Hebrews is the book in the New Testament that speaks directly to and about atonement. I find it ironic that we go to the book of Romans to explain our evangelical understanding of atonement — a book that doesn’t speak directly to atonement at all. As we learned with our time in Romans, the book is about justification, not atonement. Especially from the Jewish perspective of the New Testament and its authors, these are two wildly different conversations (even though the two ideas are directly linked in evangelical circles).

I will give a very quick overview of the different theologies of atonement that have shaped Christianity over the last 2,000 years. I will not resolve the conversation, for this is not what I believe is most helpful; I will simply point out that there is a conversation. I should also say there are other resources that will do what I am about to do much better than I will. There is a short (three chapters) e-book by Tony Jones, A Better Atonement: Beyond the Depraved Doctrine of Original Sin, that does a wonderful job explaining the conversation in a way that helps one understand the basics. He has written another book titled Did God Kill Jesus? that deals with the subject matter.

At any rate, one of the oldest theologies of atonement is the idea of Ransom-Captive theology. This idea is more poetic in its theology than mechanical. It espoused the idea that Satan had held the world captive to sin. He was willing to make a deal with God that if He would give Jesus as a ransom payment, Satan would let God’s children go. God agrees, handing over Jesus, who is crucified; Jesus then rises from the dead, leaving Satan empty handed. One might recognize this theology as playing a part in The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.

The problems with this theory are multifaceted. To name just a couple, it puts the power in the hands of Satan and makes God out to be a deceiving hustler. Centuries later, this theory had run its course and needed to be replaced.

This led to the idea of Christus Victor. For the next handful of centuries, Christians held to the idea that Jesus came to conquer the realm of sin and death. There was the Order of Death that had reign and influence in this world, and Christ’s death and resurrection defeated this order and ushered in the Order of Life. This theory of atonement has recently made a comeback, with a repainting of the old understandings; theologians like Greg Boyd promote this reclaimed understanding of Christus Victor.

The problem with this theory is that it doesn’t have a mechanical explanation for the atonement of personal sin; while it explains the meta-narrative of two kingdoms and the struggle of light and darkness, it doesn’t actually explain how my mistakes are atoned for. It’s worth noting that the theories of atonement are largely driven by the historical context of their inception. Ransom-Captive appears on the scene of a persecuted church, being held captive by powerful enemies and needing to be liberated. Christus Victor is developed during the period of imperial conquest and the Crusades.

That will help us understand the construction of the atonement theory many of us were raised with, known as penal substitutionary atonement. The idea here is that because of your sin, death is demanded. God loves you too much to let you die, so He sends Jesus into the world to die as your substitute. In this way, the penal demand for death is satisfied and your acceptance of this gift is your ticket to atonement and eternal life. It should be worth noting that this understanding of atonement was explained during the days of the Reformation, in a new world of contracts and legal documents — a world that didn’t exist before that era. Theologians like John Calvin were lawyers who took their knowledge of legal matters and applied it to their theology.

The problem with this theory (in addition to what it does to our understanding of the Trinity as referenced above) is that it suggests God is bound by a non-existent court and a rule book that must be superior to Himself. The true freedom of God is not maintained; He is forced to do certain things in certain ways.

Other theories have been at play, and most of us have simply been unaware of those. The rise of textual criticism, secularism, and liberal theology toward the beginning of the twentieth century led to moral exemplar theory, an idea that said Jesus’s death on the cross was the ultimate example of the self-sacrificial ethic Jesus spent his whole life teaching. These theologians say Jesus’s teaching and life demanded he would lay his own life down on behalf of others, in order to take down corrupt systems of religious oppression. For many of us, this theory stops far too short and has a slightly hollow ring to it.

Another theory, espoused by Jones in the books mentioned above, is solidarity theory. This idea is that God took on flesh in the incarnation and walked among us to join humanity in the greatest movement of solidarity we have ever seen. Jesus came to sweat our sweat, taste our food, cry our tears, bleed our blood, and ultimately die our death.

And yet another theory tries to see atonement through a more Hebraic lens (obviously, my personal favorite). Scapegoat theory was proposed by the late theologian Rene Girard. I believe the world of theology will look back fifty years from now and realize the understated impact Girard’s theology will have on evangelicalism and Christendom as a whole. Scapegoat theory states that Jesus’s death served as the ultimate sacrifice, just as the scapegoat did in the Levitical system. The scapegoat was given as a representation of the forgiveness of God and the removal of your sin, so Jesus was offered “at the culmination of the ages… once for all time” for the cleansing of your conscience. No longer do we have to offer an annual scapegoat, for this sacrifice of God Himself is good for all of eternity to accomplish what the blood of bulls and goats could never do.

I say all of this (again, with no intent of resolution) for a few reasons:

First, simply for theological awareness. While such knowledge will frustrate many — who like their clean boxes and clear answers — it will also liberate others to know that their questions are valid.

Second, because I’m not so sure there is a “right” theology of atonement. I am starting to believe each theory of atonement has a way of explaining a piece of the mystery that is the love of God and the death of Jesus on the cross. The poetry of Ransom-Captive is still moving to this day. The victory of Christus Victor is an annual part of my personal celebration of an empty tomb, and I’m not sure I could understand the resurrection without it. I believe Christ’s death is an example of what self-sacrificial living looks like, just as the moral exemplar theory explains. I believe the mystery of the incarnation is that Jesus came to stand in solidarity with all humanity. And even though we are living toward the end of the age of penal substitutionary atonement — a theory I believe has run its course and has led to some horribly destructive theology — I believe there is good truth in the theory and history will look back on it and its ability to communicate great theology when used correctly.

Third, I believe the above paragraph to be true because the book of Hebrews, the book on atonement, seems to portray all of those theories, as well. Hebrews says early in the letter that Christ offered his life as a ransom (Ransom-Captive). It speaks of Jesus triumphing over death and scorning the shame of the cross (Christus Victor). It speaks of Jesus serving as our example, showing us how to suffer so we might be brought to glory (moral exemplar). It speaks of God offering His Son for our sin (penal substitutionary atonement). It references multiple times the idea that Christ would join humanity in our suffering, being tempted in every way, and experiencing our humanity so he could serve as our great High Priest (solidarity). Finally, the book of Hebrews is consistent with its use of scapegoat theory and the idea, over and over again, that the sacrifice of Jesus is able to clean our conscience — something the blood of bulls and goats could never do.

We may spend the rest of our lives trying to understand the mystery of atonement and God’s love for us, in spite of our sin. But I’m not sure that would be all that bad.

GALATIANS: ...Two Covenants

Before we move toward the closing of the letter to the Galatians, let’s take a visual look at the world of biblical covenants and try to place Paul’s arguments in their context with pictures.

The first thing we need to be able to see is that covenants are made between two parties (for the scope of this conversation, I will not be diving into the different kinds of covenants that exist; we have talked before about Suzerain-vassal covenants and I have recommended The Epic of Eden by Sandra Richter in order to get introduced to the ideas). This idea seems like a no-brainer, and yet I find it is the one thing we seem to lose track of in the conversations surrounding covenantal theology. The covenant applies to the parties that make it.

With this in mind, the first biblical covenant that we run into is the Noahic covenant. (Some have identified the Adamic covenant, but for the sake of this conversation, we will start with Noah.) When you go back and look at the end of the story of Noah, it is clear that God makes this covenant with all of creation.

The next covenant we might identify is the Abrahamic covenant. Unlike the Noahic covenant, the parties of this covenant are more specific and defined. The Abrahamic covenant is made between God and Abraham’s descendants.

By extension, the rest of Abraham’s descendants will fall under the same Abrahamic covenant.

Just to make sure we are following along with our reasoning, let’s check a few test cases, starting with Esau. Is Esau under the Noahic covenant? Yes; the Noahic covenant is between God and all of creation. Is Esau under the Abrahamic covenant? Yes; he is Abraham’s grandson. The same would apply to Isaac, Ishmael, Jacob, and any other descendants from Abraham (i.e., through Keturah). Let’s try someone else. What about Nahor, the brother of Abraham? Is Nahor under the Noahic covenant? Yes; every human being (and animal, for that matter) is under the Noahic covenant. Is Nahor under the Abrahamic covenant? No; he is not a descendant of Abraham.

Hopefully all of that makes sense, as it’s time to add the next layer. Eventually, Jacob will have twelve sons who will become a nation and will stand at the bottom of Mount Sinai and enter into what we call the Mosaic or Sinai covenant.

Just to make sure we’re tracking, let’s run some test cases here. Are the Jews under the Sinai covenant? Yes, of course. Are descendants of Esau under the Sinai covenant? No, they were not present at Sinai. The two parties present at Sinai were God and the descendants of Jacob/Israel.

What throws the Jewish world of the New Testament into chaos is the introduction of the God-fearing Gentiles (or the theosabes).

The Gentiles are clearly under the Noahic covenant, and there is no debate about that (even today, a Gentile could attend a Jewish synagogue service and bless them and their story by referring to himself as a ben Noah, or a “son of Noah”). The question is what to do when they want to become a part of the family. Many Jews in the first century would have argued that, covenantally, God is working through the Jewish people, so the Gentiles need to take on circumcision (and the Law it represents) and fall under the Sinai covenant.

But Paul’s argument is revolutionary. He uses Genesis 15 to claim that the Abrahamic covenant is not based on circumcision, but on faith. He also argues that God’s story has always been about God’s promises. The promise has always preceded the Law and the story of God has never been about the Law that was introduced 430 years after the promise. This means that it is faith that makes one a member of the Abrahamic covenant. He then argues that Gentiles who have faith in the promises of God are b’nei Abraham, or “sons of Abraham.” This claim in Galatians is revolutionary, for it says that a Gentile who lives by faith in the promises of God is MORE than a “son of Noah.” He/she is an adopted “son of Abraham.”

By extension, it becomes clear through the visuals that a Jew would not cease to be a Jew. All descendants of Israel entered into an everlasting covenant with God that remains intact within God’s larger story. What Paul’s gospel does is ensure those Torah-observant lives find their proper place and their priestly calling within God’s narrative. The reality of Jesus and the resurrected Christ does not change their calling in the world, but it does invite a whole bunch of adopted children into the family of God — children who have their own unique calling within the family. This is where we turn our attention to next.

I find that putting Paul’s argument into pictures can help our mechanical, western minds grasp the argument Paul is making. Paul is saying that the issue of God’s story cannot be the Law. The Law was given for its own purposes (to be the “pedagogue”) within the larger story, but the story is about the promises of God. He is insistent that circumcision cannot be the marker of God’s covenant with Abraham, because Abraham was justified before he was ever circumcised. Abraham was justified by faith; faith is what it means to be a true descendant of Abraham.

GALATIANS: Two Women...

After Paul’s exasperated statement about being perplexed, he again returns to questioning these Gentile believers who are wanting to convert to Judaism. He wants to know why, from a theological standpoint, they would seek to submit themselves to living under the law as Jews. He also makes his case on their own turf, claiming the very Law they seek to live under speaks against their current reasoning.

Tell me, you who desire to be under the law, do you not listen to the law? For it is written that Abraham had two sons, one by a slave woman and one by a free woman. But the son of the slave was born according to the flesh, while the son of the free woman was born through promise.

Paul then launches into discourse built on an allegory. It is a parable of sorts, using pictures and images to make his point. Paul tells us clearly that this is what he is doing:

Now this may be interpreted allegorically: these women are two covenants. One is from Mount Sinai, bearing children for slavery; she is Hagar. Now Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia; she corresponds to the present Jerusalem, for she is in slavery with her children. But the Jerusalem above is free, and she is our mother. For it is written,

“Rejoice, O barren one who does not bear;    break forth and cry aloud, you who are not in labor!For the children of the desolate one will be more    than those of the one who has a husband.”

Paul takes the story from Genesis about Abraham and his two wives (Hagar and Sarai) and uses it as the template for his allegorical parable. He explains that each woman had children:  One woman bore children who were born into slavery, and the other woman had children who were free because they were born of the promise of God. He connects Hagar to the Sinai covenant and the present city of Jerusalem (I believe it’s obvious that Paul is referring to the ‘circumcision party’ from the Jerusalem church). However, Sarah represents a greater truth, a greater narrative — it’s the narrative of promise and is the “Jerusalem from above.”

Now you, brothers, like Isaac, are children of promise. But just as at that time he who was born according to the flesh persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, so also it is now. But what does the Scripture say? “Cast out the slave woman and her son, for the son of the slave woman shall not inherit with the son of the free woman.” So, brothers, we are not children of the slave but of the free woman.

Paul then says that these Gentile believers (notice how he now calls them “brothers,” having made the case that through faith they are members of God’s household) are allegorically children of Isaac, because they were born spiritually of the promise of God. But in the story, God told Abraham that he was to let Hagar go, for he had to build his story upon his promises.

Let’s sit and appreciate what Paul just did from a rabbinical standpoint, because it was brilliant.

All throughout the letter, Paul has been building a case that the Gentiles do not need to live under the miqsat ma’asay haTorah because they are justified by faith. His main passage for arguing the case has been the story of Abraham, and primarily Genesis 15–17. Paul then decides to use an allegorical picture to bolster his case. Instead of simply creating a picture to suit his needs for a teaching, Paul draws a picture from an actual biblical story! That would be stunning in and of itself, but the story Paul chooses isn’t just any story — it actually makes the theological point he’s arguing for AND it is pulled from the very passage that has been under examination.

Incredible.

Nevertheless, Paul’s point makes sense and we could move to draw our conclusions, but I find that when we teach Paul’s argument using visuals to describe the context of Paul’s argument, it can really help many people get a grasp of the book of Galatians and how Jew and Gentile fit together with the Law. I’d like to use some diagrams to portray Paul’s argument about covenants and God’s narrative.

Before we wrap up Galatians, let’s take a look at some pictures.

GALATIANS: Perplexed

Having explained now the purpose of the Law and the calling the Jews have in the world, Paul moves on, continuing to speak to the God-fearing Gentiles who are being tempted to convert to Judaism. Having made the case that, in this new Jesus reality, everybody is a child of Abraham through faith — there is no distinction between gender, social status, or covenantal belonging — he then wants to know why they would exchange this good news for anything else.

Formerly, when you did not know God, you were slaves to those who by nature are not gods. But now that you know God—or rather are known by God—how is it that you are turning back to those weak and miserable forces? Do you wish to be enslaved by them all over again? You are observing special days and months and seasons and years! I fear for you, that somehow I have wasted my efforts on you.

Paul refers to their former days as ‘Gentile sinners’ and says they were slaves to men in this pagan, Roman world — men who thought themselves to be gods, but by nature are not gods. But now, if they choose to be burdened by this worldview of those in the ‘circumcision party,’ they will be turning to the same old situation. They will find themselves enslaved to the ways of men and not of God.

Paul then pleads with them to be open-minded and consider what he’s saying. He tells them to become like him, just as he did when he brought them the gospel. He humbled himself and met them on their turf, joining their conversation in order to express the gospel to them.

I plead with you, brothers and sisters, become like me, for I became like you. You did me no wrong. As you know, it was because of an illness that I first preached the gospel to you, and even though my illness was a trial to you, you did not treat me with contempt or scorn. Instead, you welcomed me as if I were an angel of God, as if I were Christ Jesus himself. Where, then, is your blessing of me now? I can testify that, if you could have done so, you would have torn out your eyes and given them to me. Have I now become your enemy by telling you the truth?

Apparently, it was because of an illness that Paul spent so much time in Galatia teaching the gospel to them. He asks them to consider those days when they spent that time together. He reminds them of how well they treated him; even though he was a burden in his illness, they treated him with gracious hospitality — the hallmark of being a child of Abraham. He asked them why they have lost this posture with him. Why this change in heart? Why do they treat him differently? He is simply bringing them a reminder of the same gospel he preached before when their lives were forever changed.

Those people are zealous to win you over, but for no good. What they want is to alienate you from us, so that you may have zeal for them. It is fine to be zealous, provided the purpose is good, and to be so always, not just when I am with you. My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you, how I wish I could be with you now and change my tone, because I am perplexed about you!

Paul refers to those in the ‘circumcision party’ and speak of their intentions. They wish to divide these God-fearing children of Abraham and make them into what they are. He says they are zealous for them in the hopes that they might become zealous for their cause of Shammai exclusivity. But exclusivity is not the gospel; it is the anti-gospel. Paul reminds them that zeal is not the problem. It is fine to be zealous about the things God is doing in the world. However, since the beginning of the story, God has been trying to bless all nations, to bring everyone back to the table. If we are zealous about that kind of inclusivity, it would be a good thing!

Now, I’m certainly not talking about some loosey-goosey universalism. Certainly, many evangelical readers will cringe and grab their pitchforks at the frequent usage of the word “inclusivity.” But it is important to realize that from the earliest days of the Christian movement, this is the heart of the gospel. The Gentiles would not be a part of the story if God had not called people like Paul to fight for the place of ALL PEOPLE within the family of God IN FAITH. I can already hear the objections: “the gospel, by its very nature, is exclusive.” If this is how you see the gospel of Jesus Christ, the New Testament says you have the wrong gospel. This does not mean truth is relative and everybody is saved and morality doesn’t matter and every other false dichotomy we try to create which is illogical in its premises.

What we mean to say is that since the beginning of the story, God has invited people to trust in His promises. If they will do this, they will find salvation, justification, and redemption. This is the gospel; it is the “gospel preached beforehand to Abraham.” It is the gospel those in the Old Testament had (see Hebrews 4), as well as the truth of the New Testament reality in Christ.

Paul’s ministry is a ministry of reminding us that these promises and this faith are available to EVERYONE. Period. There are no qualifications to getting access to this gospel.

And we struggle with the same struggles as the Galatians. We begin to create spiritual “checkpoints” people have to get through in order to access this justification. We use our understanding of morality to create new groups that sound an awful lot like the ‘circumcision party’ of old. Instead of fighting for their place in the family, we find ourselves trying to make sure everybody understands what an “outsider” they are.

And Paul reminds us of how frustrating this is to the gospel. He says he wishes he was there in person and not writing a letter so he could change his tone, yet again. Paul began his letter in astonishment (“I am astonished that you are turning…”), he moved to anger (“You foolish Galatians!”), and now finds himself perplexed. How can we do this to the good news of Jesus? How can we miss out on the truth that there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female? How can we continue to exchange this truth for the lie of “we’re in and you’re out”?

It’s perplexing.

GALATIANS: No Other Gospel

Now that we have wrapped up our conversation about the narrative of God, I want to start diving into the letters of the New Testament. I will not try to present the letters in any sort of chronological order, as I feel like the debate is a lively one, and it doesn’t lend easy answers. Instead, I want to focus on hearing each letter in its context.

I would like to start with the letter to the Galatians for a few reasons. First, I personally believe Galatians is the earliest letter of Paul’s (even though I won’t be trying to present these chronologically). Second, I think the letter to the Galatians is the one that flows best out of the record of Acts. And third, I think understanding the context of Galatia and the argument we touched on surrounding Christianity in Asia and Asia Minor is essential to interpreting our New Testament correctly.

To review, we said back in our post about Barnabas and Paul in Pisidian Antioch that the Jewish world of Asia and Asia Minor was having to wrestle with a question found in the new world of the Diaspora: What do we do with the theosabes — the God-fearing Gentiles? We talked about how the city of Pisidian Antioch sat on the edge of the region of Galatia, and the region was dominated by the ultra-conservative worldview of Shammai. Galatia was a backwater, off-the-beaten-path kind of place where those Jews who wanted to maintain the purity of their Jewish faith could go and avoid the corruption of the Greco-Roman world. If the Gentiles wanted to worship the God of Israel there, the answer was easy — they can convert to Judaism.

But the arrival of the gospel changed everything in that world. All of a sudden there was a Jewish community insisting that God’s grace, salvation, and justification was for the Gentile just as much as it was for the Jew. This group of believers was arguing not only for a place at the fellowship table, but for full-fledged membership and adoption into God’s family.

In a region like Galatia, this was simply unacceptable. What this meant, of course, was that God-fearing Gentiles who followed Jesus were not given a place in the assembly, a seat at the table, or the hand of fellowship. They were excluded; unless they wanted to convert, they simply were not seen as a part of God’s family.

This led to a major temptation for the believers in Galatia. If they would simply convert to Judaism, they would be welcomed into the Jewish family and accepted at the synagogues. Not only this, but in the first century the Jewish people were exempt from the imperial demands of emperor worship through what historians refer to as “the Jewish Exception.” Based on an agreement instigated by Herod the Great, the Jewish people were the only people group excused from offering their worship to Caesar.

But what do you do when you are a Gentile and not included in the Jewish community? Not to bow your knee to Caesar was a capital offense. The reasons were many for why the theosabes would see it as easier and more beneficial simply to convert to Judaism.

Understanding this context is absolutely critical to understanding the letter to the Galatians. Look at how one of the opening paragraphs reads:

I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel—which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse! As we have already said, so now I say again: If anybody is preaching to you a gospel other than what you accepted, let them be under God’s curse!

Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

Paul says on no uncertain terms that the gospel of Christ is a gospel of inclusion. The whole message of “good news” to the people of Galatia is that in Christ, everyone is welcome at God’s table, and everyone belongs in God’s family. Paul insists that if they allow this message to be perverted, they are ruining the entire mission of God in Galatia. They must put the gospel on display despite the hardship and the persecution.

As we continue to look through the book of Galatians, we would do well to remind ourselves that, in Christ, there are no “those people.” We should remind ourselves that the gospel of Christ always has been, and always will be, a gospel of inclusion. This good news is an announcement that all people, through faith in Christ Jesus, have a seat at the table. There is no people group, geographical region, or religious establishment with a monopoly on faith.

To pervert this truth is to pervert the very mission of God.

** As we continue this study of Galatians, I would recommend The Holy Epistle to the Galatians by Thomas Lancaster. Lancaster does a great job drawing from some of the most recent scholarship to help us understand this letter correctly. While I don’t agree with the conclusions drawn in the last few chapters of his book, the contextual work surrounding the letter to the Galatians is fantastic.

...or a Prophet?

Before we wrap up the book of Acts, we need to finish another conversation we left hanging. You will probably want to refresh your memory by going back and reading about it. In that part of the story, we discussed Saul’s meeting of Jesus on the road to Damascus, where he was headed to continue his persecution of the early Christians. We asked the question of whether or not Saul’s story was best understood as a conversion or a repentance. Did Saul change teams and join something new, or did he revise his thinking and align his service to a proper understanding of what the King was doing in the world?

It will also be helpful to go back and read the story in Acts 9:

As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

“Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked.

“I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,” he replied. “Now get up and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”

The men traveling with Saul stood there speechless; they heard the sound but did not see anyone. Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing. So they led him by the hand into Damascus. For three days he was blind, and did not eat or drink anything.

But the question gets even better if we consider Saul’s own understanding of the incident in question. How did he see it? Did Saul understand that day as a conversion? Did he see it as a repentance? Is there something else entirely?

Fortunately, we have some help in that Paul mentions his testimony more than once. The way he talks about his experience may make all the difference in our properly understanding how to interpret that encounter.

Unfortunately, his testimony only seems to make things worse. It seems Saul has a horrible memory of the event and has embellished his story. The main testimony we will look at is found in Acts 26 as Paul shares his story with Agrippa:

“On one of these journeys I was going to Damascus with the authority and commission of the chief priests. About noon, King Agrippa, as I was on the road, I saw a light from heaven, brighter than the sun, blazing around me and my companions. We all fell to the ground, and I heard a voice saying to me in Aramaic, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? It is hard for you to kick against the goads.’

“Then I asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’

“ ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting,’ the Lord replied. ‘Now get up and stand on your feet. I have appeared to you to appoint you as a servant and as a witness of what you have seen and will see of me. I will rescue you from your own people and from the Gentiles. I am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.’ ”

Apparently Paul can’t remember the details, and some of these may seem like minor details, but we have to consider whether they really are minor/harmless, whether Paul has a faulty memory, or whether he’s doing this on purpose. Remember, we aren’t dealing with a slouch in Paul; we are dealing with a highly trained Jew who is a former student of one of the greatest teachers of Judaism (Gamaliel). Let’s outline the details that have changed.

Paul seems to embellish the radiance of the light and the way it engulfed him and his companions.

Paul adds to the dialogue he hears from God. The phrase “It is hard for you to kick against the goads” is completely absent from the original story and seems to be an arbitrary addition by Paul.

Paul continues to add to God’s conversation by saying God told him to “stand on [his] feet” when that instruction was absent in the story.

If that wasn’t enough, Paul adds the entire conversation within his testimony about God rescuing him and sending him to his own people, bringing them from darkness to light, etc.

What’s going on here? Is Paul a liar, liar, pants on fire?

Our first clue might be the whole bit about the goads. For those who may not know, a goad is a cattle prod; to kick against the goads would be an expression of fighting against where God is trying to lead you. In Jewish thought, the idea of kicking against the goads is brought up commonly in the conversation surrounding the prophet Jonah. Jonah was the only prophet in the Tanakh not directly obedient to God’s call; he was the prophet who “kicked against the goads.”

And Jonah spent three days inside the belly of a fish. Fish have scales. And if you were inside a fish, you would experience blindness in a very unique way.

Saul was blind for three days, as well, and when it was done, scales fell from his eyes.

This idea might lead us to start looking closer at these details. Why the additions? Consider the calling of Ezekiel in Ezekiel 1 and 2:

Then there came a voice from above the vault over their heads as they stood with lowered wings. Above the vault over their heads was what looked like a throne of lapis lazuli, and high above on the throne was a figure like that of a man. I saw that from what appeared to be his waist up he looked like glowing metal, as if full of fire, and that from there down he looked like fire; and brilliant light surrounded him. Like the appearance of a rainbow in the clouds on a rainy day, so was the radiance around him.

This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the LORD. When I saw it, I fell facedown, and I heard the voice of one speaking.

He said to me, “Son of man, stand up on your feet and I will speak to you.” As he spoke, the Spirit came into me and raised me to my feet, and I heard him speaking to me.

He said: “Son of man, I am sending you to the Israelites, to a rebellious nation that has rebelled against me; they and their ancestors have been in revolt against me to this very day. The people to whom I am sending you are obstinate and stubborn. Say to them, ‘This is what the Sovereign LORD says.’ And whether they listen or fail to listen—for they are a rebellious people—they will know that a prophet has been among them. And you, son of man, do not be afraid of them or their words. Do not be afraid, though briers and thorns are all around you and you live among scorpions. Do not be afraid of what they say or be terrified by them, though they are a rebellious people. You must speak my words to them, whether they listen or fail to listen, for they are rebellious. But you, son of man, listen to what I say to you. Do not rebel like that rebellious people; open your mouth and eat what I give you.”

It might feel like a stretch, but to have all of those varied phrases and “embellishments” pulled straight from the same passage in Ezekiel seems to be far too much of a coincidence. Furthermore, Jonah was sent on behalf of the Gentiles and Ezekiel was going to encounter the pushback of his own people.

You still might feel like that’s a stretch.

But then consider that Paul gave us another brief testimony in the opening of Galatians:

But when God, who set me apart from my mother’s womb and called me by his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son in me so that I might preach him among the Gentiles, my immediate response was not to consult any human being.

There is no stretch on this connection. Any Jew who heard the phrase “set me apart from my mother’s womb” would immediately think of the prophets. Consider the following passage from Jeremiah:

The word of the Lord came to me, saying, 

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, 

    before you were born I set you apart;

    I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”

“Alas, Sovereign LORD,” I said, “I do not know how to speak; I am too young.”

But the LORD said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the LORD.

Or this passage from Isaiah:

And now the LORD says— 

     he who formed me in the womb to be his servant  

to bring Jacob back to him and gather Israel to himself,

for I am honored in the eyes of the LORD 

    and my God has been my strength—

he says: 

“It is too small a thing for you to be my servant 

    to restore the tribes of Jacob 

    and bring back those of Israel I have kept. 

I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, 

    that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.”

I believe it becomes clear at this point how Paul understood his calling that day on the road to Damascus. He certainly didn’t see it as a conversion. I would argue he associated that day with something much different than even repentance (although I don't think he would deny that repentance was taking place).

Paul saw his experience as something akin to the calling of Jonah, Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Isaiah. Like Jonah was called to the Gentiles, so he would be called to bring repentance to the nations. As Ezekiel was called to confront the stubborn people of God, so was he. As Ezekiel, Jeremiah, and Isaiah would announce light to a world of darkness, Paul would join the rank of prophets who were called by God to remind His people of their calling to be a kingdom of priests and a light to the Gentiles.

Paul saw that day as more than repentance and different than a conversion. Paul saw that day as a prophetic calling. And it might help us interpret the story correctly if we saw it that way, as well.