Bruce Waltke drives me a little nuts... again

(Yes, yes; probably more of a "putt" than a "drive.")

Full disclosure. Many don't think that you can have spirited disagreements with someone, and still cherish enthusiastic admiration for him. I can. I do, for Dr. Waltke.

Waltke is a towering Old Testament scholar. He has a high view of the authority of Scripture, and is first-rate in his possession and use of the tools of academia. His commentary on Proverbs may well be the best one ever written. If you listen to his lectures—and I recommend that you do—you gain the impression of a man who humbly and ardently loves the Lord and His Word. The church will be indebted to him for decades to come, or centuries, should the Lord tarry.

You're waiting for the "but." Here it comes.

But he says things that sometimes just drive me a bit batty. I have already ranted about Waltke's bizarre (and, to me, non-sensical) dance with "Yahweh" in his otherwise-breathtaking Proverbs commentary. Well, now he's rattled my cage again.

I'm in the process of listening through Waltke's lectures on preaching Proverbs, given at Dallas Theological Seminary, as the W. H. Griffith Thomas Memorial Lecture speaker. They're thought-provoking, challenging, deep, as you'd expect.

But in the course of the first lecture, Dr. Waltke jarred me a few times. First, he said that "all translations" except the JW's New World version "are faithful and adequate." He clarifies that he means that "all translations lead their audience to faith in Jesus Christ, into sound doctrine, and never into heresy." He then said that a congregation can respond to any passage of Proverbs using any English translation.

This in itself was fairly dizzying to me, especially coming from a Hebrew scholar. Why study Hebrew, then? Just trust the experts. Every argument I've used when teaching Hebrew is smashed to the ground, if Dr. Waltke is saying, "Just trust the translators. They're experts. You're a novice."

Then Waltke did go on to allow that not all translations were equal as to exegetical accuracy or fluency. One begins to relax — except that he immediately states that he thinks the best translation is the TNIV! Yes, that's right; that bastard child of political correctness, which (as I've read the saga) never should have been published. This is a model translation, to the good Doctor (who, himself, was involved in its translation).

Now, honestly and sincerely, such is my respect for Dr. Waltke that I thought I should probably give it another look, and see if I was missing something. I didn't get very far. In Proverbs 16, the first two verses' singulars (in Hebrew) are changed to plurals, to avoid offending radical feminists. Same with verse 9. Same with verse 20. I could go on, and on, and on.

This is a very trendy fad, and I know an advocate could make himself look very sophisticated in browbeating down a simple reader such as myself. But as one who advocates verbal plenary inspiration, and who knows enough Hebrew to know that the authors could have used plural numbers if they'd meant to, I can never imagine being convinced that the pluralization of singulars arises from fidelity to the text of Scripture.

Nor would Dr. Waltke be impressed by my refusal to acquiesce. He speaks dismissively of "novices" (like me, I suppose) and their insistence on more literal renderings, and expresses some horror at pastors who dare to correct established translations. He sniffs that he's never heard a pastoral correction that hadn't been rejected by committee. Waltke further expresses agreement with Erasmus' objection that Luther's break with Rome would put a Pope in every pulpit.

Think that one over for a moment.

I suppose that, if anyone has earned a right to an elitist attitude, it would be a man like Bruce Waltke. I say that without sarcasm. As I wrote, and will likely say every time I write of him, Waltke is a towering scholar, and doubtless a seasoned brother in the Lord, worthy of deep respect. If I had achieved half of Dr. Waltke's accomplishments, I fear I'd be impossible to live with.

But this dismissive attitude concerns me. I'll go ahead and anger some of my friends by expressing aloud my curiosity as to whether this played any part in Waltke's move from dispensationalism into covenantalism. I've read Waltke's article in the S. Lewis Johnson Festschrift. Inherent in CT is a contempt for those who insist on thinking that the OT is not a codebook, that God actually meant what He said to His original audience, and that He spoke to be understood. If we think all these prophecies about Israel are really about Israel, we're just not being deep and nuanced enough. We need the magisterium to explain them down to us.

For my part, I respectfully decline the offer. If the Bible is that deeply coded, that in need of expert re-writing, then it is not as it represents itself (God's true and perspicuous word to man), and I want no part of it. The perspicuity of Scripture played a major role in my conversion. If I'm to give that up, my reason for becoming a Christian will also be undone.

Oh, and one more thing: Waltke does yet something else about "Yahweh" in these lectures. He doesn't use "Yahweh" or "Lord" (as in the commentary); he says that YHWH means "I AM," so he says "I AM" every time the text says "Yahweh." I didn't know many argued today that YHWH actually means "I am." If Waltke says it, there must be some good reason for it, and I'd like to read it.

The dumbest question Larry King has ever asked?

King-watchers, you tell me. Here it is:

"But if Jesus was resurrected, would there even be Earthly remains?"

Um... no, Larry. No, there really wouldn't. That's why they're so desperate to conjure some up—about 2000 years too late. No resurrected Jesus = no God to worry about.

Read the transcript of King's interview with Cameron, Jacobovici, Wedeman, and (mercifully) far more sanely, Al Mohler.

I must say, King tries to top the whopper quoted above a bit later with these gems:

"Since so much of your faith is belief, no one has all of the facts in front of them, Dr. Mohler, what do you make of this startling discovery, if it is what it is?"

"Simcha, if what you're purporting here is true, not as a pun, is this the end of the Easter Bunny? "

Oy!

Isn't evolution wonderful? — 1

Sometimes we like to do a little "sacking" ourselves.

This is what my family and I often exclaim, as we watch "nature" shows and specials which detail amazing intricacies of symbiotic relationships and animal/insect behavior. We have a lot of fun with it. "How did that first spider figure out how to live under water? And how did he find a likeminded female, and tell her his plan? And how did they explain it to their offspring, without language?"

And we always note (as my son Matthew has continued to note in advanced "hard" science courses) that is impossible to speak of such things except in teleological terms.

Well, here's another "isn't Nature amazing?" story. It is the story of the Japanese honeybees.

Watch the full video, and notice the talk of nature's design (?!).

Read some more discussion.

And then praise the real Creator and Designer.

O Yahweh, how manifold are your works!
In wisdom have you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.
(Psalm 104:24)

Sacking the Egyptians

So at first the Party Line was that people who took the Bible seriously, and therefore were not communicants in the High Church of Darwin, were just idiots. They simply did not understand science. They were stupid. That's why they didn't accept The Truth. If they could rub two neurons together and get a spark, they'd be materialistic evolutionists.

Then when that didn't quite work out, it was often and loudly proclaimed that No Scientists Doubted Evolution.

But the (oft-documented) dirty little secret was that they had both an Inquisition, and a neat little circle going. The circle went like this:

No scientist doubts evolution
If you doubt evolution, you aren't a scientist
Therefore, no scientist doubts evolution

The inquisition was that anyone who questioned evolution was either barred from doctoral-track programs, denied recommendation, or otherwise penalized for his heresy. I've discussed some of this more extensively, previously.

So now this paradigm is being challenged by students who take the hard science courses, do well in them, and still have the audacity to reject the white-coated Magisterium. And it really, really ticks them off.

Read the squawking and whining here.

Then observe a moment of silence at the graveside of the myth that science is a wide-open field that eschews all dogma and philosophy, loves freethinkers, and cheers on every challenge to orthodoxy.

God, ver 6.0

Click on image to see The Whole Thing:


(h-t Rand)

The Bridge to Terabithia: spoiler-heavy review/reflection

Pre-spoiler part: on the strength of the trailers and glowing reviews, I planned to take my two younger children Jonathan (7) and Josiah (11) to see this. It looked like a lot of fun.

Then I saw a thread on FreeRepublic titled "Bridge to Terabithia" PARENTAL WARNING! SPOILERS! (And do be warned: it's a very spoilery thread.)

Now, I have a very strong opinion about spoilers. I think delilberately springing uninvited spoilers on someone is immoral. I think it is wrong to "spoil" something for someone else. It's like theft: it steals the pleasure of discovery, surprise, delight that they would have had.

It also is a form of theft of the artist. I remember a short story I wrote once with a surprise twist at the end. I gave it to a friend to read. He turned immediately to the last page, and read the last line aloud. I wanted to strangle him. Why had I bothered to craft that whole story, to do the intricate buildup, only to have some _____ short-circuit it all?

Like I said. "A very strong opinion."

But on the other hand, when it comes to my kids, I will sometimes expose myself, if it means taking a "hit" so they don't. So when I saw this, I very reluctantly read; and I'm glad I did.

This is like "Million Dollar Baby" all over again, in that it is advertised as one kind of movie, but actually is a very different movie.

So, be warned, after this there be spoilers.

Spoiler-ridden review

The movie is based on a book I have not read. It stars AnnaSophia Robb and some guy.

AnnaSophia Robb is a lovely young actress with a 100-gigawatt smile and eyes like saucers. She was winsome in "Because of Winn-Dixie," and she's terrific in this. She plays Leslie Burke, who's new in town and friendless. Not for long. She befriends a repressed underdog named Jessie Aarons, and they forge a warm and fun friendship.

The "some guy" who plays Jesse is Josh Hutcherson. His character calls for him to be largely inward, subdued, smoldering, subdermal; and he's certainly all of that. Jesse loves to draw, and his hardware-store dad does not "get" him. He's got like forty-seven sisters, all of whom seem always to be angry at each other except his little sister, who's a cutie.

Leslie and Jesse both run afoul of bullies both male and female, and they band together and bully back. Jesse also has a crush on his music teacher, played by Zooey Deschanel.

"Okay," you're asking, if you've only seen the trailers and the poster. "So when do they enter this magical kingdom and have wonderful, heartlifting adventures like in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe?"

Never.

Oh, they do use their imagination, and their imaginations are given CGI life. Those scenes are fun, they're well-done, and they're relatively fleeting.

"Fleeting?" you say. "But this is an adventure-fantasy movie! I saw the trailers!"

Yeah, except no. It isn't an adventure-fantasy movie at all. It's sort of a coming-of-age drama and tragedy.

"Tragedy?" you gulp. "I was going to take my kids."

Yeah, I know. A lot of parents took their kids for a fun, escapist afternoon at the movies, drawn in by Disney's very deceptive ad campaign. I heard those parents audibly gasp when Jesse's father tells him that his friend is dead, that she died trying to swing across on the rope they used to get into their imaginary kingdom together. The rope broke, she may have struck her head. She drowned. Dead, for keeps.

"Wait. You heard them gasp? You mean, you took your kids anyway?"

Yes, I did. I read more about the movie, and decided to handle it differently than usual. I talked to my two boys and, for the first time in their lives, spoiled a movie for them. I told them:

1. We get to know two kids, a boy and a girl, and the girl dies very sadly.
2. We get to know two families, one Christian and one not Christian, and the Christian family is made to look bad.

I swore them not to breathe a word about this in the theater (no spoilers!), and said we'd talk afterwards.

How did it go?

First, it is a very good movie. Apart from the fact that pretty girls aren't generally friendless for long in schools, their friendship is credible and involving. The movie puts up a complex patchwork of personalities and issues, not too heavy, but not too formulaic. The viewer is definitely drawn in.

And "the sad part" (as we called it) is very sad. I don't mind telling you that the handkerchief came out twice. Mine, not the boys'. Tears were rolling freely down my cheeks for about the last fifteen minutes. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age, but there it is.

Forewarned, the boys were not traumatized nor depressed, and we had a good talk afterwards. Josiah couldn't believe how deceptive the ads were.

Within the movie, though, here's what bothered me the most.

The Christian family was portrayed as bickering, loveless, and borderline dysfunctional. Except for a little secular "redemption" at the end, the father was a boilerplate neglectful, distant, clueless, angry dad. There wasn't a wiff of Gospel about the family either collectively or individually.

Leslie invites herself to church with Jesse (he doesn't broach the subject to her). They talk on the way back. Jesse is unable to tell her much of anything about Christianity, and the little girl basically tells Leslie that she's going to Hell. Then after Leslie dies, Jesse sobbingly asks his dad if Leslie has gone to Hell.

Dad (who now is showing his decent side) says something like: "I don't know much about all this, but I can't imagine God sending a sweet little girl like that to Hell."

And there you go. The father has nothing to give but sentimental guesswork. He can't reassure his son that God is holy and merciful, that He will certainly do the right thing. He can't point Jesse to Christ, can't say that this reminds us how short life is, how dear Christ must be, how earnest we must be about telling others of His love. He can't give it, because he doesn't have it to give. He's a Hollywood-approved "Christian" dad.

So here is yet another professedly Christian family, broken and clueless; another non-Christian family, warm and loving and open. The movie's "Hollywood-gospel" call is given by Leslie, and echoed by Jesse at the end: "Keep your mind wide open."

"He wasn't a very good friend to her," I told my boys. "She was asking questions about God and the Bible, and he didn't have any answers for her." He couldn't tell her how she could know God, or didn't care to.

Jesse didn't, Jesse's dad didn't, I guess his mom and shallow older sisters didn't. It's just another "Christian" Gospel-free family, brought to us by Hollywood. I think back on "A River Runs Through It." Gorgeous movie, interesting story, well-acted, drove me nuts. About a pastor and his two sons. Pastor-dad doesn't even so much as mention the Gospel, even in passing, ever, that I recall. Reads poetry from his pulpit. Poetry! Boys don't even bother to indicate that they've rejected anything, because nothing is presented to reject.

The author of The Bridge to Terabithia is Katherine Paterson, who professes Christian faith. She says,

I wrote Bridge because our son David's best friend, an eight-year-old named Lisa Hill, was struck and killed by lightning. I wrote the book to try to make sense out of a tragedy that seemed senseless.

I can't possibly judge the book by the movie. A parent who was there remarked that the last twenty minutes were exactly like the book.

I don't know what "sense" the movie makes of Leslie's sad, sad death. Christian Dad says it makes no sense. Someone (I think the music teacher) tells Jess to keep Leslie alive in his memories. He then revisits his imaginary kingdom, this time with his little sister. He envisions all sorts of fantastic beings in Terabithia.

Leslie is not among them.

I'll just say that, if the movie is true to the book, the author portrayed the kind of Christian family Hollywood is comfortable with: dysfunctional, with no credible nor compelling—nor threatening—Christian witness.

So there it is. I loved the actors, I liked the movie, I hated the ad campaign, and I hate Hollywood's general inability (or unwillingness) to find screenwriters who can write a genuine, credible Christian character. These families represent Hollywood's view of Christians, and of themselves. I can understand that. I saw things that way once myself. But that all changed.

POSTSCRIPT: to be very clear, I am not saying that all Christian families are loving and speak in Bible verses, nor am I saying that all non-Christian families are horrid and hateful. But can't some Christian families make it to the movies with their Christian faith intact, identifiable, and on-display?

Papa's got a brand-new blog

Starting today: Hellenisti ginoskeis: do you know Greek?


Well? Do ya... punk?

Resurrection Sunday (aka "Easter") traditions?

I'm appealing for a brainstorm session among my brainiac readers, here.

My wife has observed that a lot of effort goes into instructional activities leading up to Christmas, but not so much to Easter. There's a wealth of material available for the former. Some uses narrative format (i.e. Jotham's Journey, One Wintry Night [gorgeous illustrations]), some focus more directly on Scriptural readings (the various Jesse tree books), or combinations of articles and readings and hymns and Scriptures (Focus on the Family had a good one, title escapes me).

What is there, equivalent, for Easter—which, this year, falls on April 8?

I've done Scripture readings leading up to it, focusing on atonement. We did a Christian seder once. What do you do? Do you have a book or books you've found helpful?

One caveat: the "Easter's just about Ashtoreth/Astarte!" crowd can sit this one out, please.

And now, fathering in post-Christian America

And now, in the interest of equal-opportunity forehead-slapping, THIS.

The story is so wrong, on so many levels.

What it brings to mind is what I have said, many times, to my kids (and once to one of my cats):

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

Ever.

Effective mothering in post-Christian America

So this seventeen-year-old boy gets into a fist-fight, and loses. Goes home to his momma.

Mom gives him a gun, and tells him to go "kill them all." Seriously.

So, sure enough, he goes out and opens fire on his enemy, shooting him dead.

And here's what the police spokesman says:

"No police department can make up for that degree of deficient parenting," police spokesman Sgt. Joe Narcisse said. "Even with our best-laid plans, these type of incidents cause us great pause. What more can a department do to prevent these type of incidents?"

John Adams said it better:

We have no government armed with power capable of contending with human passions unbridled by morality and religion. Avarice, ambition, revenge, or gallantry, would break the strongest cords of our Constitution as a whale goes through a net. Our Constitution was made only for a religious and moral people. It is wholly inadequate for the government of any other.

Solomon said it better still:

Where there is no prophetic vision the people cast off restraint,
but blessed is he who keeps the law.
(Proverbs 29:18)

Top Eleven Things You Don't Want to Hear from Jack Bauer

11. "WHERE IS THE BOMB?!!!"
10. "Do you know how to use one of these?"
9. "Haven't I seen your face somewhere?"
8. "How well do you know your husband/wife?"
7. "You will tell me what I need to know."
6. "God forgive me."
5. "You're going to have to trust me."
4. "This is taking too long."
3. "I'm okay with carrying you."
2. "This will help you with the pain."

And the Number One Thing You Don't Want to Hear from Jack Bauer:

1. "I don't believe you."

POSTSCRIPT: please don't post any spoilers from this season. Because of our schedules, the 24-addicts in our family see episodes 1-3 weeks late. It's hard to dodge knowing anything, but I try. Thanks!

Anna Nicole Smith: a word

I haven't had anything to say about the sad life and death of Anna Nicole Smith. Now I'm glad I didn't even try—because Timmy Brister has said what needs to be said, and said it so well.

Ouch: a rebirthday post

Today marks the most significant anniversary in my life. Thirty-four years ago today, on a Sunday, at a church service, I asked Jesus to be my Lord and Savior .

I plan to write on this at some more length over at Pyro. But in the meantime, after a morning start of my too-usual struggles with focus and priorities, I get to reading my daily Spurgeon, Morning and Evening. And what is the evening post for this anniversary of my conversion?

“Thou hast left thy first love.”
Revelation 2:4
Ever to be remembered is that best and brightest of hours, when first we saw the Lord, lost our burden, received the roll of promise, rejoiced in full salvation, and went on our way in peace. It was spring time in the soul; the winter was past; the mutterings of Sinai’s thunders were hushed; the flashings of its lightnings were no more perceived; God was beheld as reconciled; the law threatened no vengeance, justice demanded no punishment. Then the flowers appeared in our heart; hope, love, peace, and patience sprung from the sod; the hyacinth of repentance, the snowdrop of pure holiness, the crocus of golden faith, the daffodil of early love, all decked the garden of the soul. The time of the singing of birds was come, and we rejoiced with thanksgiving; we magnified the holy name of our forgiving God, and our resolve was, “Lord, I am thine, wholly thine; all I am, and all I have, I would devote to thee. Thou hast bought me with thy blood-let me spend myself and be spent in thy service. In life and in death let me be consecrated to thee.” How have we kept this resolve? Our espousal love burned with a holy flame of devoutedness to Jesus-is it the same now? Might not Jesus well say to us, “I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy first love”? Alas! it is but little we have done for our Master’s glory. Our winter has lasted all too long. We are as cold as ice when we should feel a summer’s glow and bloom with sacred flowers. We give to God pence when he deserveth pounds, nay, deserveth our heart’s blood to be coined in the service of his church and of his truth. But shall we continue thus? O Lord, after thou hast so richly blessed us, shall we be ungrateful and become indifferent to thy good cause and work? O quicken us that we may return to our first love, and do our first works! Send us a genial spring, O Sun of Righteousness.

I don't need to read providences as omens and portents to see this as a potent message to my soul. There are certain passages that always give me something along the lines of a gasp, always send me back to first principles. This would be one of them.

The exegesis of the passage is far from simple, but the implications are fairly plain. It is possible to be fairly rigorous on doctrinal correctness, and yet to have grown to love poorly, wrongly, disproportionately; to let an otherwise-good passion displace the best passion.

Let us pray for ourselves, and for each other, that God the Holy Spirit stir our hearts with the right love for the right object. And of course, no object is so worthy of our love as the Triune God (Deuteronomy 6:5).

A Friday borgaschmord

Borgaschmord

You geezers will remember the Underwood Deviled Ham commercials where the cute little kid  Mason Reese called it something like "a veritable borgaschmord!" That's what this is. More or less!

A word to my visitors from Pyro—

During Pyromaniacs' hiatus, as a civic duty (and for reasons of personal sanity maintenance) I have ramped up the posting here a bit. It's been gratifying to see blog traffic double and triple its normal decent-enough pace.

But here's my exhortation. I see that a lot of traffic is still referred from http://teampyro.blogspot.com/. This suggests to me that folks are clicking on the link at the top of the current post there—and not linking to my blog from their blog, or saving this site to their Favorites.

Folks, as the Vegas comedian says, "I'm here all week." If you like my writing at Pyro, you can get more here. The converse is also true. How do I determine what to post here, and what there? Some of the posts here during the last two weeks could have gone up at Pyro; others would not have. Parts of the line are clear (I don't post on the D-word, at any length, at Pyro), some are blurry.

Both get my best approximation of "A-material." I'll admit I do do some things different at Pyro; I'm less likely to put up passing thoughts that I can't defend with my very life (rough crowd). But on the other hand, I'm not like some people who just regularly throw out random, unedited thoughts at Pyro. (To which it could and should be responded, truthfully, that my random, unedited thoughts—unlike some people, aren't worth throwing out to the public.)

All this to say: if the last two weeks have been worth reading, link to me at your blog and/or put me in your Favorites. I'll still be here, doing what I do, after 2/12. Lord willing.

Our Enemies' Best Friends, Part 7493

At least scan this transcript (and see the selection of related transcripts here). Hugh Hewitt is a doctrinal "squish," and I can't imagine ever paying money to have him try to form my Christian thinking or doing, but he still is about the best interviewer there is, period.

The transcript is of Hugh's interview with a professor who is a spokesman for The Society for Ethnomusicology (I am not making this up). The spokesman is the utterly humorless, so-full-of-himself-(among-other-things)-that-he squeaks Philip Bohlman. Every word of his reads like a parody of people like himself, yet it's the Real Thing. And boy oh boy, is that professor The Real Thing.

You see, the Society has pulled itself up to its full height to denounce as torture the use of music, unpleasant or loud, on enemy combatants or suspects.

It made no statement on terrorist beheading, dismembering, bombing, or, well, torture. But loud music? That's bad.

Well, some music is torture. Barbra Streisand, for instance. Neil Diamond. U2. Most CCM, and most praise choruses. Five minutes of that, and I'll tell you anything you want to know.

And I'll say that I admire any lefty who comes on Hugh for an interview. He's fair, but he pulls no punches, and virtually always wants to talk about what really matters. No softballs like Russert, Steponallovus, Diane Sawyer, or any of the other sympathetic lamestreamers.

So here's the problem: you know the expression "enemies foreign and domestic"? They are equal threats. This professor is the product of decades of deliberate, methodical defection from America's Judeo-Christian roots. Hundreds of thousands are no longer able to think in moral categories. So now, to them, terrorists are morally equivalent to our troops.

So folks like this professor, and much of our media, and many of our political "leaders," are the terrorists' best friends and brightest hopes. They have no chance of facing our military. That's okay with them. They know they don't have to.

All they have to do is kill one or two a day. Our media, politicians, and "thinkers" like this professor will do the rest for them.

Pat Robertson making death threats?

That's what this guy says in a lawsuit (h-t Greg Linscott's CurrentChristian.com). Search "Pat Robertson" in this blog, and you'll soon see that I don't have much use for him as a Christian spokesman, to say the least. Having said that, he's a public figure and a huge target, so I don't assume that this accusation is true.

Or maybe what Pat actually said was, "God told me that He was going to kill" this man and his family.

Ligon Duncan was right: with an example

This isn't new news, but....

Here's (the operative portion of) what Ligon Duncan said (emphasis added):

...the denial of complementarianism undermines the church's practical embrace of the authority of Scripture (thus eventually and inevitably harming the church's witness to the Gospel). The gymnastics required to get from "I do not allow a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man," in the Bible, to "I do allow a woman to teach and to exercise authority over a man" in the actual practice of the local church, are devastating to the functional authority of the Scripture in the life of the people of God.

That's exceedingly well-put.

And, thoughtfully, the PC(USA), long having performed that act of hermeneutical violence, now shows us one destination to which it leads.

Hey, lookie there

A blog whose perspective, near as I can tell, is Reformed, Dispensational, evangelistic, cessationist, and Canadian!

Well, four out of five... not bad!

What fascinates angels

I think we can equally say that we know a lot about angels, and that we don't know a lot about angels. There is a great deal of Biblical material, on the one hand; but there are many gaps, holes, and (stuffy-word alert in 3, 2, 1...) lacunae.

Let's focus on just one aspect, and the core can be put simply. We think angels are cool. Angels think God is cool. Angels think our salvation is astonishing.

The first point hardly needs proving. Billy Graham wrote a book about angels, Amy Grant wrote a song about angels. Christmas carols have more angels than Carter's has little liver pills. (If you get that last reference, boy are you old.)

Artists have represented angels often, but almost always clearly wrongly so. The effeminate—indeed, often female!—angels of the painters are dead wrong in almost every respect. Angels are never certainly depicted as female in the Bible, and virtually always depicted as definitely masculine. Not merely masculine, but awesome and fear-inspiring. Artists' angels look as if they're about to say "There, there." Real angels usually have to start out with saying, "Okay, now--try not to die!"

We think angels are pretty cool.

But angels are mostly interested in God. Usually, they're seen functioning as their title indicates: as God's messengers. We observe them characteristically running errands, carrying messages, sent on missions.

But what is more, consider such scenes as Isaiah 6, where sinless seraphim cover their faces and feet, and are overwhelmed with the holiness and glory of God. Or consider the angelic beings in Revelation 4, who "day and night ...never cease to say, 'Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!'" Evidently that is their sole reason for being, to give forth a ceaseless river of praise.

But let's focus a little more on what fascinates angels. Both Testaments indicate that angels are particularly fascinated with our redemption.

Consider Exodus 25:18—"And you shall make two cherubim of gold; of hammered work shall you make them, on the two ends of the mercy seat." Isn't it interesting that they are not described? It is as if Moses says, "Okay, you know what cherubim look like, right? So, make two of them, and...." Wouldn't it be fun to know what they knew, and how they knew what they knew it?

But if that were important, God would have given the details. A crucial rule of interpretation is to make much of what God makes of, and the converse. So what is of interpretive importance to us that the cherubim's appearance is not of interpretive importance to us, or else they would have been described. God tells us what matters about them. What matters about them is that they are of hammered gold, they are at the two ends of the mercy seat, and

[t]he cherubim shall spread out their wings above, overshadowing the mercy seat with their wings, their faces one to another; toward the mercy seat shall the faces of the cherubim be (Exodus 25:20)

So what are the cherubim looking at, as they face inward? They are depicted, by command of God, as forever fixedly looking at the mercy seat, the kapporeth, the solid gold lid to the chest of the covenant. What is the significance of this lid? Yahweh appears there, and atonement is made there, on the great and highest holy day (Leviticus 16, especially vv. 14-15). This locus is the focus. The angels' two objects of fascination are closely tied to it: Yahweh, and believers' blood-bought redemption. The turning away of Yahweh's wrath by means of blood atonement absorbs them fully, as they are depicted as frozen in rapt attention towards that spot.

Does Peter possibly have this in mind as he writes? The apostle tantalizingly remarks, as it were in passing, that angels intensely desire to bend over and sneak a peek into the truths of the Gospel that we preach (1 Peter 1:12). It is an object of great interest and perhaps curiosity to them.

Think of it: angels know nothing of redemption themselves, except as spectators. Some of their number fell into rebellion, and not one of that company will be redeemed. The others stood fast with the Triune God, and not one of them needs redemption. Angels experience nothing of redemption. They either have no chance of it, or they have no need of it.

That Yahweh Himself would undertake to set His love on rebels, would design an intricate tapestry of pointers to that redemption, would come in person to effect that redemption-- these are great mysteries to the angels.

Reflect just a moment longer. Can we even imagine the vantage-point of the angelic mind? Thousands of years old, unclouded by sin, mighty in power and great in knowledge—what couldn't they study, if they wished to, within God's will? Planets, suns, comets, meteors, processes we can only imagine; all these are tomes available at their library for their casual checkout.

But what draws angels and holds them is the drama of redemption.

And here we can't but tarry a moment longer to reflect on how much smarter we are, today, than the angels. We know that the Gospel isn't interesting enough to draw and keep people. We needs skits, shows, tricks, dramas, dances, special effects. Entertainment! We must play to the MTV attention-span, Sunday after Sunday. We must structure our whole church to accommodate an entirely alien set of interests and priorities.

Great thing we're so much smarter than they, isn't it?

It's a muffin!

Our dear (but distant) sister Libbie has given birth again. Behold the newest Muffin, Reuben:




We've prayed for Libbie and Reuben through this very challenging pregnancy, which Libbie bore with great grace. We share her joy, praise God for his gracious answer to our prayers, and look forward to his first posts!

Fine!

Now can we talk about Biblical, Christian marriage?

Confused? Check this post and thread.
(c;

Wise wives = blessed husbands = happy wives

I love when this happens.

Kim Shay started it. Then Carla Rolfe made an excellent entry of her own. This spurred a sort of a competition, as Jen at joythruChrist waded in, followed with great verve by Lisa at Deo Volente.

These are wise women. They are using their God-given power to build their own houses, rather than tear them down (Proverbs 14:1). Their husbands are unlikely to be tempted, out of starved desperation for appreciation, to turn aside to the honeyed lips of the temptress (Proverbs 2:16; 5:3; 6:24; 7:5, 14-21).

I surmise that these sisters have figured out that a man is better positioned to lead with joy, confidence, and competence, when he is consistently reinforced, heartened, respected, honored, encouraged and cheered on by the most important human being in his life. Contrariwise, it is bitterly hard for a man so to lead after he's been undermined, disheartened, sidelined, demoralized, and torn down from such a strategic and pivotal source.

We're all familiar with the alphabet of praise of the godly woman in Proverbs 31:10-31. For as long as I can remember, I've seen the heart of godly, wifely excellence in verses 11 and 12:

The heart of her husband trusts in her,
and he will have no lack of gain.
She does him good, and not harm,
all the days of her life.

This bespeaks a rock-solid commitment to godly benevolence and help that forms the core of a building, dominion-exercising relationship as God defines it.

As I wrote years ago in Questions for a Godly Wife, God called a man to lead, and a wife can contribute to that leadership being a joy or a nightmare. It is deeply sobering, but also joyful, to lead when one is confident and assured of full-on, Christ-honoring, believing, 100% support. It is misery itself to try to forge a path forward for and with the family, while constantly having to look over one's shoulder, and dodge (or bear up under) sniping from within.

Contrary to the bitter carpings of feminists, a wife has great power. I have often said and preached (and probably written) that, if a woman has a half-decent husband, but wants to get rid of him, there's an easy way. Just praise him, privately and publicly, sincerely, heartily, and consistently.

He'll kill himself living up to it.

Though men and women are wired differently, there's a lesson here for husbands as well. Kim's post reminds me of one of my favorite blog titles ever, from the other side of the gender divide. It was, in fact, from Kim's husband Neil Shay, over on his blog. The title was: My best wife now! (—a funny play on the title of Joel Osteen's book, to which I won't link, "Your Best Life Now").

Neil, writing of Kim's excellences; Kim, telling the world of Neil's strengths.

Now, there's a smart couple.

So, "Prince" does the Super Bowl halftime show...

...and covers "All Along the Watchtower."

Get it?

Get it?

Communion: a very brief thought

It is the first Sunday of the month, and many of our churches will be celebrating Communion. This marks yet another way in which we see that Christianity is not designed by God to be practiced solely in private ("come together," 1 Corinthians 11:17, 18, 20, 33-34).

Every Sunday pastors and others struggle with how to explain to unbelievers who are present why they should not partake. It isn't easy to be firm without appearing to be rude.

When I was in that position once, I came up with something I thought helpful, which I now offer to you. I've actually not heard it used by anyone else; you're welcome to it if you find it helpful, pastor friend.

We all know that unbelievers all tend to have a residual suspicion that religion is magic. How many times have you winced and cringed when a baptismal candidate says (s)he's undergoing baptism to help him be a better Christian—as if the ceremony itself, ex opere operato, zaps them with some spiritual blessing?

Well, that's how unbelievers regard religious ceremonies. They are magical, to them. They convey blessings. Crosses and Hosts repel vampires, don't you know? They have Power.

But we know that Communion itself has no magical power. It does convey a special blessing, insofar as we partake of it in obedient, worshipful faith (cf. John 13:17). But it does not convey any of this blessing to unbelievers. In fact, it can potentially convey severe judgment (1 Corinthians 11:27).

So why not communicate it that way?

Say something like this:

Communion is like kissing a spouse: if it isn't your spouse, it really isn't for you. And so likewise, this is an institution that God intended for all Christians, but only for Christians. So we ask that only those who have been born again to saving and living faith in Jesus Christ partake of this service.

Now perhaps you feel that we are withholding from you something that might help you, make you happy, make you stronger. That is not the case. God is jealous of this ceremony, and the fact is that if you partake of this celebration of union with Christ, when you do not yourself have union with Christ, it will not help you. No, in fact it will harm you. So, for your own good, we'll thank you if you simply let it pass by.

Helpful? It's yours.

Musings on blog traffic and ministry

Any human being who undertakes a task wants to see something come of it, some success. Axiomatic, no? This may particularly be true of males. I heard it said once that what matters most to a woman is security; what matters most to a man is significance.

So farmers don't plant seed, and then lose interest in what comes of it; builders build to see a building stand firm; and writers, whatever they may claim, yearn to be read.

What do pastors—to say nothing of pastors who write—want? Being a pastor has to be one of the most difficult jobs in the universe, if only for one reason: you never really know how to measure your effectiveness. Numbers, praises, criticisms—any of these actually can be counter-intuitive as evaluative factors. Are you a failure if you are heavily criticized? Then Jeremiah was a failure. Are you a failure if you are richly praised? Then Spurgeon is a failure. Was Jonathan Edwards a success when his preaching sparked a revival, or when he was driven out of his church? Or both? Do thronging crowds mark a success, or a failure? Then is Joel Osteen a success? Is John MacArthur a failure? Is the faithful laborer with 217 people in his church—or 27—a failure?

You never know, and you know you will never know, until the judgment seat of Christ.

That's not easy for a man to live with.

Now, in blogs, we have some devices. You can see that I use both SiteMeter and the TTLB to measure traffic. They give me some means of measuring the impact of this blog, as do comments.

For instance, between these two, I know that currently this blog is enjoying about 400 visits per day. That's not bad. What's even cooler is when I check out the world map in the morning. Look at where my last hundred visits came from:

You see a lot in North America, but also there's Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, India, South Africa, Finland, Poland, Ecuador, Spain, France, the Netherlands, and the UK.

That's an international impact such as Paul or Spurgeon could only have dreamed of. What a gift from God.

But how to explain the imponderables, and what to make of it? Over at Pyro, we get 2000-3000 visits a day. Some of my posts there have garnered some very gracious praise. But that blog's on hiatus, which hasn't translated into 2K-3K visits here. Or again, explain the links to this blog. TTLB counts up 44 linking to me, but I'm still stuck as a "Slithering Reptile" in the Ecosystem, where I've been for some time. So most of those 400 folks aren't linked to me... or something.

What has meant an awful lot to me have been the comments, and the emails. A sister whose son had just died wrote me of comfort she found in a post. Others going through struggles I can only imagine have shared of help or direction or encouragement they've found; they've told of printing up this or that article to hand out in church, or of discussing one of my studies in Bible study. Read some of the comments over at Pyro in the Four Faces meta, or the ...and you were going to do this, when? meta, or the Calling him "lord" -- or, Blacks and women meta, or the What if? meta; or the gent who wanted to print up and distribute the Sister... show mercy! post at his church — it's all very uplifting, but very humbling, at the same time.

So now what has come of those essays, since then? Those, and the others? Lasting changes in individuals, in churches? Incremental shifts? Nothing at all? A great deal? Only God can evaluate.

One writes, aware that he has literally no idea who might be stopping by, or from where in the world, or from where in his or her own life. Believer, unbeliever; happy, sad; sorely tempted, or on the verge of great service to God and just needing a word of counsel or encouragement (or correction). Perhaps someone just clicked "Next blog" by accident—except the Bible knows of no accidents, in the strict sense. "Who is sufficient for these things?" Certainly not I.

And that's where we are, in the final analysis. Whether it's you or me, pastors or bloggers (or blogging pastors): you sow the seed; you water, if you can. But you trust both it and the results to God, and you pray for God to give growth. If growth comes, if lasting, spiritual fruit forms, you know it is from His hand alone (cf. 1 Corinthians 3:5-15).

UPDATE: but then Technorati says there are 254 links from other 101 blogs to this one. So... go figure.

"I'm really not into doctrine or theology..."

Like Freddy Krueger, some canards/dodges never seem to die. You think they're dead. Goodness knows they've been killed and killed. But they keep popping back up.

Here's one:

"I'm not really into doctrine or theology; I'm more into life. I just want to love Jesus."

Ever take that one apart for the dodger who's talking to you? There are a couple of ways of responding.

One way could go something like this:

1. You say "I." Who and what are you? Are you an evolved animal, the product of conditioning and glands and solely material causes? Do your thoughts have any more meaning and significance than a sneeze or a tic? Are you the product of an unthinking process, so that meaning and morality are irrelevant to you? Are you created by an infinite-personal God, and morally accountable to Him? Do you differ from the rest of creation? How? How do you know? That's for starters.
2. You say "not really into." How did you decide that? On what basis? Does this not assume a hierarchy of values? On what does your ethical code rest? How did you arrive at it? Is it for you only, or for others as well? If only for you, why so? If for others, on what authority? How do you know what you know? Are you a solipsist? A positivist? A nihilist? Can others know what you know? How? Should they? Why?
3. You say "doctrine or theology." No doctrine or theology? Which doctrine or theology are you not into? Is there a God? Can you describe Him in non-doctrinal and non-theological terms? Are not all predications about God, by definition, both doctrinal and theological? Is not your anti-doctrinal position itself a doctrinal position?
4. You say you're into "life"? What life? What kind of life? What does it look like? How do you get it? How do you distinguish it from its opposite? Do all have this life? If not, why do you have it, while they do not? Can they get it? How? Why, or why not?
5. You say you just want to "love." What is "love"? Why love and not hate? What would love look like? What makes love good? Does love have a shape, form, and edges? Do all have it? Why, why not? How can the have-nots get it? How can it be distinguished from its opposite? On what authority?
6. You say you want to love "Jesus." Who or what is a Jesus? Did He exist? Does He? How do you know? Can anyone else know? On what basis? Was He the Son of God? What does that mean? Was He virgin-born? Why? What kind of life did He live? What did His life mean? Did He die? How? Why? To what end? With what result? What does He demand? Can you have forgiveness through Him? Forgiveness of what? Why? How? What does He offer? Does only He offer it, or do others offer it as well? Do you know that any answer you give to any of these questions is necessarily both doctrinal and theological?

You could answer that way.

Or you could just say, "Wow. That is really stupid."