We were asked this question on our forum by one of our members:

Q. Will it be possible for man to fake the Second Coming with false signs and deceive many people? If that would be so, then many may say that it was prophesied in the bible and the Second Coming is yet to come. What are your thoughts on this?

Here is my response:

A: Ask any futurist who believes he is living in the "end times" or in the "last days" today, how does he know? And he will say it is because he sees "signs." And where are these "signs" described? In the Bible of course! But the apostle John saw these very signs, and referred to them, when he said, "Little children, we *know* it is the last hour." He saw that what Jesus said would happen was happening, and thereby he *knew* that it was the last hour.

The futurist is in a real tough spot now, for two reasons:

1) In order to say that the "signs" he is seeing now are those spoken of by Christ, he has to say that the apostles were all mistaken (as was Jesus, since he put them in the specific context of that generation--and that is a whole other problem for him: Jesus was right about the signs but wrong about their timing?), and if the apostles were mistaken about the signs, what else were they mistaken about? Their credibility has been shot, by the futurist's own admission...and yet, he still consults their writings to tell him what signs he should be watching for?

And this was a real "light bulb" for me when I was first looking at the time statements in the New Testament:

2) In order to say that the statements of urgency and imminency apply to our time now (or that they applied at any time beyond the first century) we must also be saying that they meant *absolutely nothing* to the people they were written to. And that is a pretty absurd suggestion, is it not? And yet....that is exactly what a futurist paradigm demands.

However, Christ's promise to return in their lifetime is quite enough to render the question of whether "signs of the Second Coming " could be faked today moot. Because again, the only way for one to be deceived by such signs would be to say that Jesus was either uninformed or deliberately misleading, in which case one has discredited the very Scripture he is trying to use to identify the supposed signs. Furturism, we now see, really is impossible to defend.

Tami
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In a theology class recently, we had a forum on eschatology, based upon our reading of various theologians on the topic. Here are a few of the questions I was asked by my classmates in the course of that discussion, and my responses to them. (Tami, did I hear you correctly??? uh, yeah, you did!):

Q: Tami, As I read through your summary, I was confused. Are you saying that the end of the age that Jesus spoke of and that the apostles spoke of already happened and everyone missed it?

A: Yes,  I do see “the end of the age” that Jesus and the apostles all said was about to be fulfilled in their generation as the end of the old covenant age. As Hebrews says, “in these last days He has spoken to us by His Son,” and “that which is waxing old is ready to vanish away.” And no, if we are believers in the gospel, we didn’t miss anything, but rather are living under all the benefits of the glorious new covenant (“there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus”).


Q: Why do Christians believe time is linear?

A: I think you may be referring to [our textbook editor's statement here]:  “A characteristic Christian belief, of decisive importance in this [eschatological] context is that time is linear, not cyclical.”  Why is this of decisive importance? A few thoughts:  

God’s plan of redemption laid out in Scripture, beginning in the garden (Genesis 3:15) is a historical plan. The historical event that was prophesied from the beginning that accomplished the redemption of God’s people was the death and resurrection of Christ. Some (probably a minority within Christianity) take an “idealist” (I am not sure whether this is the same as “cyclical” or not?) approach to redemption and remove it from its historical context, which in effect renders the cross of Christ unnecessary. It is instead then viewed as a “show” or “demonstration” of a redemption that was already performed, rather than the actual performance of that redemption. But Luke states that Jesus came to “perform the mercy promised to the fathers” (Luke 1:72). He had to do something. I think this will become more and more significant the more time we spend contemplating how God worked progressively (e.g. the law was a tutor to lead them to Christ, cf. Galatians 3:24) throughout the history of His people as recorded in the Scriptures to reveal, and eventual accomplish, their salvation. Things were prophesied, then they happened according to those prophecies, all leading up to their ultimate fulfillment in Christ. So that:

Ephesians 1: 5 He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, 6 to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. 7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 8 that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight 9 he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time,to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. 11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory.

Those are just some of my thoughts on why a linear concept of time is theologically significant.


Q: Do you think dispensationalism has died down?

A:  I grew up being taught dispensationalism in church. (At the age of 8, I watched a movie produced by Billy Graham's group called "A Thief in the Night" about the "rapture" and it scared the sh*t out of me. I was almost scarred for life! ) In fact, it wasn't until fairly recently that I even knew there were other ways of understanding eschatological prophecies, because I was sheltered within that specific denominational culture.

You ask if dispensationalism has died down? I think it depends on where you are. For example there are some big mega churches (e.g., John Hagee's in San Antonio) where it is still preached with fervor. But I do think that it has begun (thankfully) to die down. From my view point, one factor has been the growth of the emergent church movement, another the increasing prominence of voices within evangelical churches like Greg Boyd's (see his book "The Myth of a Christian Nation"), and another has been the increasing involvement of activist groups with mainline associations (e.g., Methodist, Episcopalian, some more liberal Lutherans--and in this case I use "liberal" in a positive sense!) in speaking out against American foreign policy which has been so heavily influenced by dispensationalism (e.g., Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson). I don't mean to sound arrogant here, but dispensationalists are by and large not very educated about things beyond this country's borders (I sure wasn't!). The "left-behind" craze is primarily an American evangelical phenomenon. So there is a shift happening in the culture which I think will result in the marginalization of dispensational eschatology, even in America where it has enjoyed such mainstream prominence and influence.

The other thing that is going to cause it to inevitably die out is time passing. How many more definitions are they going to be able to come up with for a "generation?" (Their "last generation" clock started ticking in 1948--and time is running out.)


[And in response to a comment someone made about "newspaper eschatology"]:
A:  The thing that has always perplexed me about those who practice the "newspaper eschatology" that you mention, is that they see "signs" today that lead them to believe "the end is near." But where do they get this idea? What I mean is, what tells them what the "signs" of the end are? They say the Bible (specifically the New Testament) tells them what the signs are, yes? And yet the Bible was written by the apostles who believed with unwavering conviction that *they* were seeing the signs *then*. So if the apostles mistakenly believed they were seeing the signs that Jesus told them to look for (the apostle John *knew* without a doubt that it was the last the "last hour," precisely because of the signs he was seeing), and if Jesus was mistaken when he told them *when* to look for those signs, then on what basis would a "newspaper eschatologist" today consider their writings to be authoritative? This is just what perplexes me when I hear people say that the Bible is what is telling them that this or that event in the news today is a "sign" with some prophetic significance, when the apostles who wrote the Bible (which describes the very signs these modern folks are pointing to!) were saying the signs were happening back then.

So we have the apostles on one hand....and we have the "newspaper eschatologists"  on the other, who claim the apostles as the source of their eschatology which directly contradicts what the apostles taught. Are you confused yet? I sure am!
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A while back someone posted on our forum some thoughts about our obedience to Old Testament law today, not suggesting that it is required that we obey it in order to be justified, but that perhaps we should be motivated out of gratitude to obey those laws, and also for practical reasons as many of them are wise guides for living. And another question was raised: If we are not under obligation to obey the law--either Old Testament or New Testament--in order to be justified before God, then what is our motivation to live morally? Or for that matter, to abstain from immorality?

The reason I am so drawn to having this conversation is that it's right where we all live. And it involves that tension I think we all feel between the legalism we were brought up with and our understanding of liberty in Christ...and also the tension between the fact (yes, it is a  fact) that our consciences have been cleansed and are now absolutely perfect--no, we couldn't possibly be cleaner, purer, or more righteous in God's sight--and guilt free, and the  feeling we sometimes get that we are guilty.  

And how do we assuage that "guilty" feeling? I think it's often by trying to be more obedient. It's our nature to try to do that. But when we find ourselves seeking relief from the feeling of guilt in obedience to law--any law, OT, NT, some standard we set up in our mind derived from comparing ourselves to others, whatever--it should be a red flag to us that we have forgotten the cross. For however brief a moment, and to whatever degree, when we seek to relieve our guilty feeling through our own performance, we have forgotten His mercy. And that is a very dangerous thing. Because as soon as we forget His mercy to us, we diminish our capacity to show it to others.  
  
Something else that needs to be pointed out whenever we start talking about obeying Old Testament law (even as a wise  and practical guide for living), is that Scripture doesn't make any distinction within that code that allows any parceling. So you simply cannot separate a discussion about obedience to any Old Testament law without dealing with the dilemma presented by the fact that Jesus and the apostles never said anything along the lines of, "Ok, guys, here is a list of the ones we are doing away with, and here is a list of the ones that still apply." Christians have those lists in their heads but they are nowhere in Scripture. So if we speak of obedience to certain laws--or to even one of them--"out of gratitude," then how do we avoid advocating the obedience of the entire law out of gratitude?

But now back to motive. If our motive is not to assuage our guilty conscience, since we are truly guilt-free, then what motive do we have to obey--specifically, setting the Old Testament law aside, what motive do we have to abstain from immorality as defined by the New Testament? Certainly, the "law of Christ" can be summed up as 1. Love God and 2. Love others. And if that is all we ever thought about, if our motive was simply love for God and others in response to His love for us, out of thankfulness,  then wouldn't "immorality" be a non-issue? When we think of New Testament admonitions toward how we should "walk" as God's people, love as the motive really does cover everything. "We love because He first loved us," and we prove He has loved us when we love one another (1 John).

But there is another "motive" we all tend toward. Or I know I  am confronted with this every day. The best way I know to illustrate it is with this familiar passage:

1Co 6:9 Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, 1Co 6:10 Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. 1Co 6:11 And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.

Legalists loooooove this passage. The self-righteous simply adore it. Never mind that it condemns them all with the same standard by which they judge others. They can't be bothered with that. They just love to use it to prove that salvation is by works!

Let's face the facts, if it were true that by doing something on that list, you are disinherited from the kingdom, then we are all dead. The cross did nothing for us, and we have no hope. We've all done things on that list since becoming Christians. But the power of the cross and the glory of mercy is stated right there in that passage: even though we still do those things, those things are not who we are.

"And such were some of you. But you are washed." In other words, in God's eyes that is not who you are,  anymore. And it has nothing to do with your ability to avoid doing those things. And thank God it doesn't!

What then is my motive for abstaining from those things which I know to be immoral as the Bible defines immorality, and both harmful to myself and others? It certainly is not to assuage my guilt over having done them, or even my guilt for continuing to fall into them. I am free of that guilt because of Christ's righteousness. And because of His mercies new every morning. But when I do those things I still may feel guilty...and such a feeling of guilt or shame , when it doesn't drive me to my knees in thankfulness at the foot of the cross, may instead drive me back to legalism, which always  leads to projecting judgment onto someone else. Self-righteousness is the twin brother of guilt, they are truly two sides of the same coin. And both are an affront to the finished work of Christ.

So just as falling into self-righteous law keeping should be a red flag reminding me to not forget the cross; falling into immorality should be a red flag reminding me to not forget the cross. And when I do fall and feel guilty, I need to run to the cross and be reminded that I am forgiven and cleansed. And be restored once again to the joy of that forgiveness so that I can share it with others. And love them. My motive? "The love of Christ compels me." That's the communion we are invited to experience with Him and with one another in Him, whereby we "fulfill the law of Christ."

Please see also these two articles:

Does 1 John 1:9 Apply to Believers Today?
Is There Shame in the New Creation?
All our burdens
And all our shame
God our freedom
He has overcome
(Hillsong)
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Summary

McLaren reminds us in his last chapter of the three reasons to pursue the three-fold “ancient way”—katharsis (via purgative), fotosis (via illuminative), and theosis (via unitiva)—and the seven “ancient (Abrahamic) pratices”—pilgrimage, fasting, the holy meal, formalized prayers, proportional giving, Sabbath, and special holidays. First, they develop character; second, they help us to be awake and alive; and third, they help us experience God (201). He concludes the book by identifying a fourth reason to pursue the ancient way: “because the future of the world depends on people like you and me finding it and living it and inviting others to join us” (201). And just when the tune to “Imagine” started playing in my head....what do you know?

The book is divided into three sections: the Way, the Practices, and the Ancient. In the first chapter preceding these three sections, McLaren rightly states that “we must rediscover our faith as a way of life, rather than a system of belief” (3). Throughout the book, McLaren identifies “our religions” (200) as “the major Abrahamic traditions of faith” (21)—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam--that all hold the seven ancient practices in common. There is strong implication that he makes no qualitative distinctions between these three religions. And he nowhere states that belief in the gospel of Christ (which is what distinguishes Christianity from the other two) is necessary to his goal of “finding our way again.”

Two things I especially appreciate about McLaren’s writing are the vivid metaphors he creates to illustrate his points so clearly, and how practical he gets when he speaks of applying the lessons he is inviting his readers to learn.


Evaluation/Questions for Further Discussion

McLaren’s appeal to a common “Abrahamic” tradition shared by Christianity, Judaism and Islam troubles me just from a straightforward acknowledgment of how the Bible defines what it means to be a child of Abraham, or a follower of his faith. Scripture is clear and really could not be clearer that to depart from Christ is to depart from any association with Abraham’s spiritual heritage. So while I appreciate the associations he is making from a cultural and historical standpoint, his conclusion that all three of these religions share a spiritual commonality due to their association with Abraham is antithetical to the Biblical gospel. And I especially do not appreciate the way he uses Abraham’s encounter with Melchizedek to suggest that “we discover practices for our own faith in an encounter with someone of another faith” (25). As Melchizedek is identified as a “priest of the Most High God” in the very passage McLaren cites, he can hardly be called a person of another faith. In fact, Melchizedek is likely an Old Testament appearance Jesus Christ (whom both Jews and Muslims reject, just as they reject the faith of Abraham).

I like what McLaren says about “the sacred meal” calling us to “reconciliation with God, neighbor, and enemy and thus counters the centrifugal forces of selfishness and resentment” (28). I fully embrace this as the benefit of breaking bread together, as long as he isn’t exclusively referring to the ritual of Eucharist, which I don’t think he is, since earlier in the same chapter he gives equal credence to the Muslim practice of Eid ul Adha (26). And I really like also what he says about common prayer countering “drudgery, reminding us to know God in the affairs of daily life, infusing the so-called secular with the sacred” (28). Along these same lines, in his chapter toward the end of the book on “Faithing our Practices,” he makes the very encouraging statement that “it would be tragic for you to read this book and walk away with a longer to-do list” (184). Instead, he gives examples of learning to view things we already practice in daily life in a new light, and “imbue these practices with meaning derived from faith.” This discussion was one of many examples of the practicality McLaren brings to his lessons. I especially relate to his practice of taking morning walks, and his statement, “I am faithing my practice of walking” (185).

I had to pause at McLaren's description of “the way” as encompassing “the Jewish torah, Christian gospel, or Muslim deen,” and as the way which “leads us toward peace, wisdom and the joy we seek” (51). I see this as incompatible with Biblical Christianity, and specifically with Jesus' words in John 14. And Peter’s in Acts 4.  And Paul’s in 1 Timothy 2. Likewise, McLaren says of this three-fold “faith community” that it “isn’t complete” (Christianity isn’t completely Christian, Judaism isn’t completely Jewish, Islam isn’t completely Muslim) “unless it is sent outside itself into the world with saving love” (115). So is he saying that Jews and Muslims as well as Christians are called to go into the world with “saving love?” What does it mean to be saved? What does it mean to be loved? To be healed? What exactly does McLaren mean by “the good news revolution” that Jesus “launched in his little corner of the world” to be “spread to all creation?” (117).

I think that what makes it easier for McLaren to point out the commonalities between “our three religions” is his avoidance of any discussion of the cross. For example, he makes the point that these three religions all share the ancient practices (200). And he places the Jewish celebration of Passover (he is talking about modern day apostate Judaism, not Old Testament Judaism, which no longer exists anywhere in the world) and the Muslim practice of something called Eid ul Adha on the same level as the Christian Eucharist by suggesting that they all three originated with the holy meal shared by Abraham and Melchizedek (26). But what does the Christian Eucharist call to our remembrance? The blood of the cross! When we focus on what the Eucharist is actually about, which is “Christ’s blood shed for many for the remission of sins,” it is simply no longer possible to associate it with a Jewish or a Muslim practice, is it?

I do appreciate this statement in the chapter on “Open Source Spirituality” (and while I hold the Scriptures as authoritative, I often find myself outside the bounds of orthodox Christianity as defined by the creeds and tradition, so I don’t reject the concept of “open source” generally): “As more and more of us open our lives to be sources of inspiration and examples for one another we begin to seize the unfulfilled promise of that Reformation with its open source concept of the priesthood of all believers” (65). And from his chapter entitled “Shallow Trouble Deep Trouble,” I couldn’t agree more with his “raising the question of whether focusing on the afterlife beyond history can unintentionally but tragically lead to the abandonment of this earth and this life” (68). I think that many Christians’ obsession with “the afterlife” as something separate from the eternal life they already have here and now causes them to completely disconnect from the reality of the kingdom of heaven here and now, and withdraw from conscious participation in the real and present life of that kingdom, and indeed tragically, miss the joy of its experience. In other words, they “lean their ladder on a building called ‘Escape from Earth to be with God in Heaven’” (69) and don’t even realize that they are already with God in heaven (cf. Hebrews 12:22)!

I would like to ask the question: what is the Biblical definition of a “healed and healthy earth” which McLaren states is to be our destination (71)? And what does it look like for “plant and animal and human systems to share in that health” (72)? In the chart on page 72, he contrasts “heaven-centered” with “earth-centered.” I questioned whether “heaven-centered” and “earth-centered” were mutually exclusive, and I was delighted as I continued to read: “ [What if] for God, who is not a dualist, [both our life now and the afterlife are] just different facets of one reality called life? What if we realize that a phrase like kingdom of God can be understood to encompass both?” But still, McLaren goes on in the same chapter to slip back into the definition of “heaven” as “the afterlife” and “earth” as “this life” (74). It is a common false concept in Christianity that “heaven = the afterlife.” McLaren sees the kingdom of God as present here and now. And Scripture uses the terms “kingdom of God” and “kingdom of Heaven” interchangeably. Therefore if the kingdom of God is really present now, then so is heaven. The cure for the “escapist” mentality that has seized so much of evangelical Christianity begins with the recognition of this fact. But I wholeheartedly agree with McLaren here: “We have learned that the contemplative way, on its own, easily becomes individualized and privatized, leading to a grotesque spiritual elitism or narcissism that is spiritual only in a debased way” (73).

Again, I so appreciate McLaren’s practicality throughout his discussion of the practices. And this is nice: “Contemplative practices then, are means by which we become prepared for grace to surprise us” (95). And this statement about communal practices is profound and in my opinion, the gateway to a most pristine theological understanding of life in the kingdom: “the way of community is about the inward journey, not the journey into me but the journey into we” (100). McLaren provides a great insight into the New Testament “holy kiss”: “Class-conscious Roman society required that people only exchange the kiss with peers, but the early churches brought together Jew and Gentile, men and women, slave and free, rich and poor” (103).

This may have been my favorite statement in the book: “Oddly, many of our invocations ask ridiculous things. They ask God to be present—as if God wasn’t present already. They tell God we’re coming into His presence, as if we weren’t in God’s presence before we gathered” (104). And finally, he comes  close to appreciating the new covenant context and significance of Isaiah 58, before diverting toward a predominantly social application of the gospel and the kingdom with this paraphrase:

"They can 'practice righteousness' through rigorous fasting with a long face, robed in sackcloth and ashes (Isaiah 58), but God is unimpressed. God's wants the people to stop oppressing  workers, stop fighting, stop pointing the finger, and stop being preoccupied with their personal interests" (120). (For an exegesis of Isaiah 58 which appreciates the true spiritual significance of "removing the pointing of the finger" and "letting the oppressed go free," see my article entitled Remember Your Name.)


McLaren, Brian D. Finding Our Way Again: The Return of the Ancient Practices (Ancient Practices Series). Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2010.

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Summary:

By way of introduction, Daniels asks, “why write to “angels?” “Angel” simply means “messenger,” and Daniels suggests that rather than viewing these as “angelic beings,” we should see them as representing the collective spirit, cultural identity, or “corporate personality” (24) of a body of believers. He asserts, “The seven churches of Asia—like all communal bodies—are more than the sum of the individuals that make up that community. Communities, like the individual persons from which they are formed, take on a kind of spirit, personality, or ‘life of their own’ that becomes greater than the sum of their physical parts” (17).  Daniels also suggests that because seven is a number signifying perfection, these seven letters are “not just to seven particular congregations but to the entire or complete church” (29).

The seven spirits in order of appearance are named as “boundary keeping,“ describing those who “in their zeal for moral purity, have lost the centrality of love” (39); “consumerism,“ within a “culture that is founded in and profoundly shaped by the ideals of individualism” (54); "accommodation,” or what I would summarize as the tendency to serve the kingdom of this world rather than the kingdom of God; “privatized faith,” exemplified by “the demarcation between secular and sacred that runs through the heart of many believers and many churches” (81); “apathetic faith,” of a church resting on its laurels, so to speak; “fear,” of adversaries within the surrounding culture; and “self-sufficiency,” which looks a lot like self-righteousness.

Daniels concludes by laying out a three-fold process for the “transformation of the deadly spirits” (128): Naming the Spirit, Calling the Spirit to Repentance, and Embodying a New Spirit in Practice.


Evaluation/Questions for Further Discussion:

As William Barclay states, "strict orthodoxy can cost too much, if it has to be bought at the price of love” (39). I was reminded of 1 John 3 when I read this statement from Daniels: “Our love for God and our love for one another are deeply connected” (40). And as Brian Mclaren writes, “orthodoxy could be articulated and debated by scholars who had little responsibility to actual live by or live out the orthodoxy they defended” (42). My question is, if truth and love cannot be separated (which I don’t think they can be according to Scripture), then how can “orthodoxy” ever be separated from practice? The more I look at Scripture, I am convinced that a lack of love reveals wrong theology. (Please see my article entitled The Good Samaritan and a Theology of Mercy.)

Daniels rightly points out that it is very difficult for American Christians to relate to the suffering and persecution of Smyrna. A big reason for this is not just our monetary wealth, or our unfamiliarity with religious persecution, but that we think of ourselves as individuals in search of individual fulfillment rather than as members of a covenantal community—the body of Christ. Abraham in The Logic of Renewal makes this point as well, and I agree that the spirit of individualism is a hindrance to church renewal. As Daniels states, “Even if we shy away from a health-and-wealth gospel shaped by utilitarian pursuits, we often offer a therapeutic Jesus who is the cure for our feelings of loneliness, inadequacy and purposelessness connected to the vocabulary of expressive individualism” (56). I agree, and my question is, where is the cross in this “gospel” of the “therapeutic Jesus?”

One of the most encouraging things I read from Daniels is situated within his discussion of “privatized faith“: “Jesus also came in the fleshly form of humanity and shockingly did not proclaim the coming of the kingdom of God (or kingdom of heaven) as solely a future event. Instead He proclaimed that the kingdom had arrived, through Him. It is unlikely that believers in the early church thought of heaven as ‘in the sky’. They viewed heaven as being invisibly present” (83-84), even while they lived in the material world. This is such a refreshing contrast to the “doomsday” mentality of futurist eschatologies so prevalent in our culture. Daniels concludes this chapter by saying, “The problem with the spirit of privatized faith is that it robs the church of its ability to become a contrast model to the world in every area of life. The church is called to be a unique people...” (88). My question is, what specifically are the “unique qualities” of the church? Especially in the context of his earlier statement about the nature of Christ’s kingdom: what does this invisible kingdom look like (or rather, how is the invisible made visible within the life of the church)?

I appreciate how this statement in the chapter on the spirit of “apathetic faith” enunciates the emptiness of a “social gospel”: “A non-profit organization uses part of the church facility to give aid to the poor of the city, but while many find food for the day, the church reaches few with the bread of life” (94). However, when discussing the command to the church of Sardis to “strengthen what remains,” I thought Daniels was imposing onto the text the idea that structures and rituals of worship were primarily in view. He then proceeds to give a rather ambiguous description of the gospel (which indeed is what the Revelator is referring to when he says “remember what you have received and heard”): “The kind of remembering Sardis needed to do was the recalling of the presence of God that enlivened and gave power in the challenges so that they could have faith to move forward into God’s future” (96). I don’t really know what that means, but curiously absent from a description of what they had “received and heard” is any mention of the cross of Christ, which is “the power of God unto salvation,” and which Paul said was his “only glory.” And to answer Daniels’ vague statement about “the presence of God,” the cross is what accomplished God’s presence with His people. Seemingly in keeping with his focus upon recapturing rituals of worship in answer to the call to “strengthen what remains,” Daniels associates the “white robes” in Revelation 3:4,5 with the “early church’s practice of dressing believers in white robes as they left the waters of baptism” (97). Setting aside whether or not there is historical evidence of this practice in the first century, I don’t see “white robes” associated with the ritual of water baptism in Scripture at all, but rather with “garments of salvation” that we now wear because we have been cleansed of our sin by the blood of the cross. Again, I am not seeing much mention (if any?) of the cross in this book.

I think that a strong link can be inferred between “self-sufficiency” and self-righteousness, both from the text of Revelation 3, and the discussion by Daniels of this “spirit.” Images of being “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked” (Revelation 3:17) often loose their appropriate impact apart from—again—the context of the cross and what it accomplished for God’s people, and the understanding that righteousness and life are found only in Him. As Daniels concludes, “The church cannot depend on its expensive garments to cover its vulnerability and nakedness; it must instead purify its life and receive the white robes of new life that come from the hand of God” (125). In other words, we cannot “cover ourselves with our works” (Isaiah 59) and pretend that we are rich and “in need of nothing,” because it’s a sham. God knows it, and not only will we have failed to “cover our nakedness” before Him, but the on-looking world is not fooled either. They see through the pretend “clothing” of self-righteousness the same way everyone saw through the “emperor’s clothes.” Daniels has begun to elucidate this imagery, and his appreciation of the metaphors in Revelation throughout this book is refreshing, but when it comes to “calling out the spirit” of self-sufficiency, I think we need to dig a little deeper to get to what is truly at the “deadly” heart of it. It’s one of the biggest hindrances to the church’s quest for cultural relevance today.

 
Daniels, T. Scott. Seven Deadly Spirits: the Message of Revelation's Letters For Today's Church. Grand Rapids, MI.: Baker Academic, 2009.

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Abraham's book presents a collaborative vision for church renewal by bringing together a number of diverse--and sometimes even divergent--voices. Here  is a brief summary of the book along with some of my thoughts and responses to what I feel are its more significant points:

   Raised in a fundamentalist environment, I am now a parent of college-aged children for whom the church, at least in its institutional form, has lost virtually all relevance. So when I consider the concept of church renewal, it is with them, and their whole generation in mind. Is it even the time or place for church renewal and how is this determined? “Christians in the west are weak in their thinking about ecclesiology. Either they refuse to think about it at all, or they simply accept uncritically the conception of the church they have inherited” (p 3). And in the west at least, certainly in America, that church is complacent regarding its need for “renewal,” especially in a corporate sense. We think in terms of individual renewal, and I think we generally tend to view “church” as a way to help us along on our own “spiritual journey,” rather than seeing ourselves as interdependent members of an organic “body.” Thus, the individualism so pervasive in our culture contributes to a lack of urgency toward the goal of “church renewal.”

     The “Fundamentalist” voice identifies the problem in the church as a move within mainline denominations away from divine revelation as the only source of truth and the belief in Biblical “inerrancy.”  If only the church would hold fast to “sola scriptura,” and stop watering down the gospel and succumbing under pressure to conform to a culture of moral relativism, it would become relevant to individuals immersed in that very culture. But here is their dilemma: divine revelation requires interpretation. And fundamentalists are notorious for equating their own particular interpretation of Scripture with Scripture itself. When this causes them to look like buffoons to the scientific community, for example, they dig their heals in deeper as if on some holy crusade to guard the integrity of the Scriptures, until it’s not even the gospel that is in view anymore. It’s their particular brand of epistemology (which they can’t really defend to a thinking culture), which has replaced the goal of evangelism. And so they will continue to marginalize themselves from the culture they claim is their mission field.  It’s not even about whether they are “right” about the doctrines of inspiration, inerrancy, the divinity and humanity of Christ, for that is all these are to them, doctrines to defend. Yet one can know all the right answers to these things and still be “dry and hungry deep inside” (p 17), as the charismatic Bennett expresses. He finds the answer to his need, the food for his soul, in an emotionally charged “holy Spirit baptism” experience. But is this individualized, subjective, biblically indefinable experience a foundation for the renewal of the church?

     Bishop Newbigin essentially blames everything wrong with the church on a “single epistemological shift” beginning with the Enlightenment (p 30), and surmises that a return to the dogma of church traditions and church authority, in recognition that philosophy cannot provide an explanation for faith, nor answer existential questions, is the only hope the church has for renewal. Bishop Spong agrees that “the fundamental problem is intellectual in nature” (p 39), but his solution is basically to “deconstruct” the entire creedal and Biblical (he doesn’t make a distinction between the two) basis of Christianity. In the end, even the gospel is abandoned, and Abraham is correct: he is “headed toward a confused and half-hearted form of atheism” (p 41). And in fact, Spong reminds me of people in my own family, whose understandable backlash against fundamentalism has amounted to a pendulum swing to the other extreme of agnosticism. While I agree with Newbigin that philosophy is wholly inadequate to answer what are essentially spiritual questions, I reject his indiscriminate reliance on church dogma because I am one of those Spong describes, “who can no longer recite the creeds with honesty” (p 34). However, unlike Spong, I make a distinction between the creeds and the Scriptures. I agree with Spong that the problem, both for me, and for all even moderately educated members of my children’s generation, is one of “intellectual honesty” when it comes to certain dogmas of fundamentalism. But what Spong has done amounts to the abandonment of all faith in favor of scientific reasoning. God-given faith—a reasonable faith, yet not provable by reason—is what renews the heart of the individual. Doesn’t it therefore follow that it will also renew the church?

     I was surprised by the affinity I found with Catholic feminist Rosemary Radford Ruether in her description of the “free church” as offering the “community” that is lacking in “impersonal, territorial parishes” (p 49). I agree with her basic premise that “hierarchical institutionalism” is not the essence of “church.” In fact, this was not the early church model. “Covenant communities” where “communion with God is expressed in interpersonal concern and joint action” stand in contrast to the local parish governed from the top down, and more accurately represent a Biblical model. The historical, institutional church will remain vital only to the degree that it allows itself to be influenced by the “free church.” But the contrasting Catholic voice of Cardinal (now Pope) Ratzinger loudly maintains, “Roman primacy is an essential element of ecclesial unity” (p 60). That is too bad.

     Enter the social activists, whose theology seems to take a back seat to their arguably noble political agendas and concern for the poor. But is social justice, which can be pursued very successfully completely apart from the gospel, and which too often redefines the gospel to serve its preeminent goal of societal reforms, a foundation for the renewal of the church whose mission in this world is to proclaim the kingdom of Jesus Christ?

     Both Schmemann and Bilezikien, the vision of the latter vividly demonstrated by the Willow Creek model, identify the problem as a loss of the communion and unity experienced by the first century church. Schmemann sees this communion as not merely symbolized by, but actually accomplished by the Eucharist, maintaining that the church’s “very life flows from the sacrament” (p 96). I would agree that yes, the church’s very life flows from communion, but is communion in the sacrament, or is communion in Christ? The Willow Creek model of “small groups” in which community and communion are authentically experienced has been my way of “doing church” for the past twenty years or so. It is truly the closest thing I have seen to the picture of the first century church we see in the book of Acts, and to the degree that it can be systematized, it is the closest thing I have seen to realizing Reuther’s “pipe dream” (per Abraham) of the “free church” revitalizing Mother Rome.    

     The prescription for renewal that Abraham advocates, in the end, is an assimilation of these various voices, which concludes the necessity of institutional practices and authority invigorated and authenticated by “the varied workings of the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life” (p 158). He proposes there can be freedom, serving the “quest for intellectual integrity,” to innovatively explore the realms of philosophy, epistemology and doctrine within the God-ordained framework of a “canonical heritage” (p 161), and of a “charismatic community brought into existence, equipped, guided and sustained by the Holy Spirit.”


Abraham, William J. The Logic of Renewal. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2003.

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I was recently asked this question. I hope some of you may be encouraged by the response below.

In Revelation, John writes about the "works you did at first" to the Ephesians, and to those in Sardis he writes, "I know your works;...you are dead."  What kind of works could John be referring to?

Regarding the admonition to the church at Ephesus to "do the works you did at first," there is a parallel structure that is significant:

"You have abandoned the love you had first. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first."

"The love you had" and "the works you did" are clearly paralleled, and cannot be separated.

In Paul's letter to the Ephesians, he praised them for their faith and "love for all the saints" (Ephesians 1). They had obeyed the gospel by believing, and the resulting fruit of that belief was love for God and His people. Many of the believers in all of these churches were Jews. In order to believe the gospel they had to repent of their former "dead works" (ie, self-righteousness under the law, cf. Hebrews 6:1). When some law-abiding Jews asked Jesus, "what must we do, to be doing the works of God?" He answered, "this is the work of God, that you believe on Him who He has sent" (John 6:28,29). A common theme throughout the New Testament is the temptation that Jewish believers, who were being persecuted by the self-proclaimed "Jews" who were of the "synagogue of Satan," had to return to the law after believing the gospel of grace. When John writes here, "repent from where you have fallen," we might consider the connection to Paul's statement to the Galatians that if they returned to self-righteousness and trusting in the "flesh" (ie, their own efforts to keep the law) after having begun by the "spirit," they had "fallen from grace" (Galatians 5).

Regarding the "soiled garments" of those in Sardis (Revelation 3:1f), I believe this also is a reference to self-righteous works. Isaiah says, "all our righteousness are as filthy rags" (Isaiah 64:6). It is only in Christ that we are clothed with "robes of righteousness," and the beautiful "garments of salvation" (Isaiah 61:10).

Notice that the church at Sardis also is admonished to return to what they had "received and heard." Of course what they had received and heard was the same gospel that the Ephesians had received and heard, which had resulted in "the love they had at first." Again, the dichotomy between self-righteousness and faith in the righteousness of Christ by the gospel is emphasized.

This same contrast is evident in the message to the Laodiceans (Revelation 3:14f), who believed themselves to be "rich" but were in reality "poor, blind and naked." And what was the solution for their nakedness? In this clear allusion to the garden scene, the only remedy for the shame of nakedness is the righteousness of Christ. In the garden Adam and Eve tried to cover themselves with garments of their own making, but their shame remained. For as Isaiah says, "their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works" (Isaiah 59:6). Shame is always the result of our attempts to "buy" (work for) our own righteousness. But to the church at Laodicea, and to us today, Jesus says, "buy of me ("without money and without price"—Isaiah 55) gold tried in the fire, so you will be rich, and white raiment ("garments of salvation"—Isaiah 61) so you will be clothed, and so that the shame of your nakedness does not appear."

Again, "This is the work of God (i.e., the works you did at first): that you believe on Him Whom He has sent" (John 6:28,29).
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In John 17, Christ prayed:

John 17:22 And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; so that they may be one, even as we are one: 23 I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.

For those who may suggest that we have yet to be glorified with Christ, or that He has been glorified, but we have not yet, please pay attention to this (and by all means, look at the entire context in John 17):

The glory which God the Father had given Christ...
He was giving to His disciples...

so that...

they would be one...
with each other, and with Him.

AND so that...

He would be in them.

AND so that...

the world would know that God sent Christ...
and that God loves them....

Now, regardless of the verb tenses here, and the timing of the accomplishment of this glory, the goal of it is our oneness.

Are we one in Christ? Then we have been glorified. With the same glory that the Father gave the Son. If we have not been glorified, then we have not yet been made one in Christ. And the world cannot yet see that "You have sent Me, and have loved them as You have loved Me."

Does He dwell in us, and us in Him? That is our glorification.
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The Heavens Declare the Glory of God!

And it is true, that unlike the atheist, we as believers have been given the ability to thank God for "creation." But it is also true that unbelievers can also appreciate its beauty. And if our thankfulness to God as Creator is merely a thankfulness for that physical beauty observable even to the natural man, then we are missing the most excellent part of Creation, what one writer has called Creation's Eternal Purpose.

Sadly, what YEC (Young Earth Creationism) has affected in the minds of most evangelicals is a view of the cosmological creation that is less than what God intended for His people to see with the new sight we've been given. We need to be pursuing a view of Creation which magnifies the glory of redemption (for that is indeed the story the Creation tells--and the "glory the heavens declare") and that also highlights the true beauty of the fulfilled eschatological perspective: the preeminence of the cross of Christ from Creation to Revelation. As we see the covenant creation revealed through the cosmological creation, they both become more marvelous in our eyes.

 "Be ye glad and rejoice forever in that which I create." Isaiah 65:18

Let the "Earth Day" celebrations begin!

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The Heavens Declare the Glory of God: Psalm 19, part 1
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Creation and Its Eternal Purpose
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I received this question from a friend in my small group the other day:

Question:

I am struggling with Romans 2: 1-16. It seems to go a bit against what I have more recently been understanding about God's Grace and Mercy and that works alone will not save us. That I understand, but what about 2:6-8?

Romans 2:6 "God will give to each person according to what he has done. 7 To those by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor, and immortality, he will give eternal life. 8 But for those who are self seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger.

I understand that if we are truly following God, then there shouldn't be a disparity in our lives between what we say and believe and what we do. I understand that we are not saved by works, but the integrity of our faith can be revealed through works? Help me put the wrath and judgement piece together with Grace and Mercy.

Response:

This is an important discussion, thanks for bringing it forward. I’d like to offer a few thoughts regarding the passage you have quoted—first considering the specific statement you are asking about in verses 6f regarding wrath and judgment and secondly considering the larger context of Romans.

Notice there are two groups of people being contrasted:

1. Those “who by patient continuance in doing good seek for glory, honor, and immortality”

and

2. Those “who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness”

Those who do “good” and seek “glory, honor, and immortality” are those who are not destined for judgment and wrath. Therefore we know these to be believers. The “good” that we “do” which results in glory and immortality is to believe the gospel. In fact, Scripture is clear that belief in the gospel is the only way to glory and immortality. Consider the following:

John 6:28,29 Then they said to Him, "What shall we do, that we may work the works of God?" Jesus answered and said to them, "This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He sent."

2 Timothy 1:9,10 who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began, but has now been revealed by the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ, who has abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel,

So we know that those who are “doing good” in Romans 2 are believers in Christ. And no believer in Christ will ever, EVER experience judgment or wrath from God. To suggest otherwise really amounts to despising the work of Christ on the cross. There are many things we could talk about regarding what these believers were experiencing in the first century which required the “patience” of which Paul speaks. They were enduring intense persecution from not only the Romans, but also from the self-righteous Pharisees and Jews who were enemies of the gospel, and who were about to have God’s wrath poured out on them--which brings us to the identity of the second group: those “who are self-seeking and do not obey the truth, but obey unrighteousness.” Again, what is the “truth?” The truth is the gospel. To obey the truth is to believe the gospel. To disobey the truth is to reject the gospel. And it’s helpful to back up a couple of verses for the clearest confirmation of who these “disobedient” ones are:

Romans 2:5 But in accordance with your hardness and your impenitent heart you are treasuring up for yourself wrath in the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God,

Now back up even farther to chapter 1, which sets the context for this whole discussion. The wrath of God (the same wrath which is the subject of your question in chapter 2) was being or about to be revealed at the time of this writing against those “suppressed the truth.” Again, the truth is the gospel. And yes, we can prove this:

Rom 1:16 For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation for everyone who believes, for the Jew first and also for the Greek.
Rom 1:17 For in it [the gospel of Christ] the righteousness of God is revealed from faith to faith; as it is written, "THE JUST SHALL LIVE BY FAITH."

Now watch this:

Rom 1:18 For the wrath of God is [present tense--it was happening or about to happen then] revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who suppress the truth [the truth is a synonym in this very context for the gospel in verse 16] in unrighteousness.

So, to sum up the difference between these two groups Paul is contrasting: those who “do good” believe the gospel, and those who are “self-seeking” (ie, they instead trust in themselves, or in their own righteousness) do not believe the gospel.

And some additional thoughts, considering again the larger context. If we keep reading in chapter 2 we will find continued confirmation that it is the self-righteous, unrepentant, Christ-rejecting Jews who were about to receive God’s judgment and wrath. Watch this:

Rom 2:17 Indeed you are called a Jew, and rest on the law [ie, you trust in self-righteousness], and make your boast in God [you claim to be serving God],
Rom 2:18 and know His will, and approve the things that are excellent, being instructed out of the law,
Rom 2:19 and are confident that you yourself are a guide to the blind, a light to those who are in darkness,
Rom 2:20 an instructor of the foolish, a teacher of babes, having the form of knowledge and truth in the law.
Rom 2:21 You, therefore, who teach another, do you not teach yourself? You who preach that a man should not steal, do you steal?
Rom 2:22 You who say, "Do not commit adultery," do you commit adultery? You who abhor idols, do you rob temples?
Rom 2:23 You who make your boast in the law, do you dishonor God through breaking the law? [he is exposing their hypocrisy]
Rom 2:24 For "THE NAME OF GOD IS BLASPHEMED AMONG THE GENTILES BECAUSE OF YOU," as it is written. [quoting Isaiah 52, ie, God’s name is being blasphemed because of your self-righteousness]
Rom 2:25 For circumcision [the “Jewishness” and legalism you are trusting in] is indeed profitable if you keep the law [but NO ONE CAN]; but if you are a breaker of the law [which all of you are], your circumcision has become uncircumcision [ie, your law-keeping is worthless, and gets you nothing].

Now this is the clincher, right here:

Rom 2:26 Therefore, if an uncircumcised man [a Gentile, one you despise as unclean and a law-breaker] keeps the righteous requirements of the law [WHAT?!], will not his uncircumcision be counted as circumcision?

Wait a minute. As we studied in Galatians, no one is justified by keeping the law, because no one CAN keep the law. As we read in James, to break one tiny part of it is to break the whole thing. So how can an “uncircumcised man” (a Gentile, and the fact that he is uncircumcised means he’s already broken the law, since the law requires circumcision! This is some riddle!) keep the “righteous requirements of the law” so that it turns him into a Jew? (That is essentially what is meant by “his uncircumcision will be counted as circumcision.") Paul explains it later in Romans (we HAVE to read Romans as a whole, because of course that is the way it was delivered). Remember the phrase from 2:26 above, “the righteous requirements of the law…” and watch this (remember, it is part of the same discussion by Paul):

Rom 8:1 There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh [ie, do not seek justification in the law], but according to the Spirit.
Rom 8:2 For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death.
Rom 8:3 For what the law could not do in that it was weak through the flesh, God did by sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, on account of sin: He condemned sin in the flesh,
Rom 8:4 that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us who do not walk according to the flesh [seeking justification/righteousness by keeping the law] but according to the Spirit [trusting in and receiving Christ’s righteousness].

Remember that Paul says in chapter 2 that anyone who keeps “the righteous requirements of the law” is counted as a Jew. In contrast to the ones who prided themselves in being Jews (keepers of the law, righteous in their own eyes, and superior in their own eyes because of their national/racial "Jewish" heritage). And here Paul continues by saying that those “righteous requirements of the law” ARE FULFILLED by Christ, IN us.

Finally, look at the last verses of chapter 2, which again clarify the contrast Paul was making at the beginning of the chapter:

Rom 2:28 For he is not a Jew who is one outwardly [ie, you self-righteous ones who think you are better than others because you are “Jews” are not “Jews” in any way that matters to God] or is circumcision that which is outward in the flesh;
Rom 2:29 but he is a Jew who is one inwardly; and circumcision is that of the heart, in the Spirit, not in the letter; whose praise is not from men but from God. [ie, true “Jews,” true keepers of God’s law, are believers in Jesus Christ, who have been forgiven and cleansed by the cross, and who are now perfectly righteous in the sight of God.]

So to bring this full circle back to your question, how do we reconcile the statement in Romans 2 that God gives to each person “according to what he has done,” with His mercy and grace to believers? His mercy and grace is indeed lavished upon ANYONE who does “good”—or “the work of God,” which is to BELIEVE in Jesus. And when we abandon self-effort/self-righteousness, and trust in Christ’s righteousness, “the righteous requirement of the law is fulfilled in us. Christ fulfilled it, because we could not. And for us who have believed, for you and me, ”it has been fulfilled. Once and for all. “Therefore there is no condemnation.”

“He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, SO THAT we would be made the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)

“The Lord has brought forth our righteousness, come let us declare in Zion (Zion = the church, the assembly or congregation of believers) the work of our God.” (Jeremiah 51:10)

For further study, we also discuss this section of Romans 2 in this podcast, if you are interested in spanning out even farther to include a larger Scriptural context for Paul's comments.

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