Exegesis and Theology

The Blog of Brian Collins

Scott Swain, “The Radiance of the Father’s Glory: Eternal Generation, the Divine Names, and Biblical Interpretation,” in Retrieving Eternal Generation.

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Much of this opening chapter is methodological. The most important methodological comments for understanding Swain’s argument are as follows:

“(1) Because God is the “Father of all” (Eph 4:6), “from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named” (Eph 3:15), there are “family resemblances” between God and his creatures. These family resemblances are the ontological basis of the divine names. (2) In terms of the order of being, these family resemblances flow from God the Father of all to his creaturely offspring, and not vice-versa. Creatures are like God because God created them; however, God is not like creatures. (3) In terms of the order of naming, the order is reversed. God names himself in our language using names originally applied to creatures. This is true whether it is said that God is good or whether it is said that God is a rock: in both instances the creature provides our primary context for understanding that which is good and that which is a rock.13 (4) These two different orders (the order of being and the order of naming) explain the difference between proper and metaphorical names of God. (a) Some names apply properly and primarily to creatures and only metaphorically and secondarily to God. God is a rock, to be sure, but God is not literally a rock. When we say that God is not literally a rock, however, we are not denying his steadfast nature or strength in relationship to his helpless people. We understand that even rocks reflect something of God’s greatness and therefore that their characteristics are susceptible to secondary, metaphorical application to God, the one who birthed the mountains (Ps 90:2). (b) Other names apply properly and primarily to God and only secondarily to creatures: God alone is wise; God alone is good—not in the sense that creatures cannot be wise or good but in the sense that they cannot be supreme and simple wisdom and goodness. God alone is wise and good in that sense, and all gifts of creaturely wisdom and goodness proceed from him (Jas 1:5, 17). (5) These two different orders (the order of being and the order of naming) also explain the epistemological and linguistic “grammar” whereby we interpret the family resemblances that exist between God and his creatures, the Dionysian threefold way (triplex via). Because God is the Father of all creatures and their perfections (via causalitatis), we understand and assert that he prepossesses all perfections that appear in the creature in their primary and supreme form (via excellentiae) without any creaturely limitation (via negativa)” (35-36).

The substance of the chapter is the argument that God is identified biblically as Father on several different level. Adam’s fathering of Seth is modeled on God’s fathering of Adam. There is an analogy between the two. God’s fathering Adam or the lights (James 1:17) is a metaphorical use of the concept.

These passages then inform passages that speak of the divine Father and Son:

“First, we have noted a series of “family resemblances” across each ontological register. In each register, we have seen (1) two relatives, (2) the activity of one relative that defines the relationship between the two relatives, and (3) a similarity that obtains between the two relatives.

Second, looking more closely at these family resemblances, we may observe a couple of common features that obtain across the various ontological registers. In each case, there is a discernible order in relation to the action or activity that defines the relationship between the two relatives: God makes Adam (not vice versa); Adam fathers Seth (not vice versa); God radiates his Son (not vice versa). The first relative is the principle of the action that constitutes the relationship between the two relatives. Furthermore, in each case the likeness between the two relatives follows a discernible order as well: Adam is like God; Seth is like Adam; the Son is the exact imprint of his Father’s substance. Here too the order is not reversible” (40-41).

The passage that Swain primarily has in view is Hebrews 1:3, the Son “is the radiance of the glory of God.” Along with this passage, Swain notes in passing,

“we would discover, along with the divine glory that radiates a divine effulgence, a divine speaker who utters a divine word (John 1:1–18) and a divine exemplar who produces a divine image (Col 1:15–18). In terms of the various actions that amplify the nature of the Father-Son relation, we would discover a Father who has life in himself and who has granted his Son to have life in himself (John 5:26), and we would discover a Father who possesses the unique divine name and who has granted his Son to possess the unique divine name (John 17:11–12)” (42-43).

Third, Swain seems to argue that the relation between Father and Son in the Trinity is not analogical or metaphorical, but proper. This leads Swain to his fundamental conclusion:

“Fourth, the relation between the divine Father and the divine Son whereby the Father naturally radiates the Son and consequently the Son is the exact imprint of the Father’s substance is in essence all that the doctrine of eternal generation seeks to identify” (41).

In connection with this, Swain asserts this doctrine is only ever identified. It is never explained how eternal generation takes place.

The weakness of Swain’s argument is his concession that Hebrews 1:3 could refer to the incarnate ministry of the Son. Swain responds to this weakness by noting that the focus of the verse is not ministry but the relation between Father and Son.

R. Bruce Compton, “The ‘Kingdom of Heaven/God’ and the Church: A Case Study in Hermeneutics and Theology” in Dispensationalism Revisited

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Bruce Compton contributed a chapter on the biblical covenants in Dispensationalism Revisited: A Twenty-First Century Restatement, a Festschrift for Charles Hauser, Jr. published by Central Baptist Theological Seminary. In this chapter Compton seeks to answer three questions. Is there a distinction between kingdom of heaven and kingdom of God? What does the phrase kingdom of heaven/God mean? How does the kingdom of heaven/God relate to the church? Dr. Compton was also interviewed about this chapter on Detroit Baptist Theological Seminary’s Theologically Driven podcast.

The Referents or Referent of Kingdom of Heaven and Kingdom of God

Compton argues that the phrases kingdom of heaven and kingdom of God have the same referent. He notes that dispensationalists of an earlier era understood the kingdom of God “to refer to God’s universal, spiritual rule over the redeemed” and the kingdom of heaven “to refer to Jesus’s future messianic kingdom” (119). Compton refutes this view by examining their usage in Matthew 19 and the synoptic parallels. He demonstrates that in Matthew 19 and in the parallel Gospel passages the phrases kingdom of heaven and kingdom of God are used in a manner that demonstrates that they have the same referent. In this Compton is certainly correct, and interpreters of all persuasions now seem to agree on this point.

The Meaning of Kingdom of Heaven/God

Compton answers the second question by arguing that kingdom of heaven/God refers to the rule of Christ on earth in the coming millennial period.

Thesis: The Old Testament Defines the meaning of Kingdom of Heaven/God

Compton observes that “the Old Testament texts consistently depict an earthly kingdom with national Israel restored to its land as the head of the nations and with the Messiah ruling from Jerusalem and exercising worldwide dominion” (122). He briefly surveys the kingdom concept in the book of Daniel to provide a concrete confirmation of this thesis. His Daniel survey is probably too brief to convince critics, who may argue that Daniel 7 presents a present reign of Christ in heaven. However, I agree with Compton’s interpretation of Daniel 7 specifically and of the Old Testament texts generally.

Compton next argues that John the Baptist and Jesus never redefined the Old Testament’s definition of the kingdom concept, which means the Old Testament understanding of the kingdom should be maintained in the New Testament’s use of the phrases kingdom of heaven and kingdom of God. This thesis Compton will now test against arguments for a present kingdom.

When speaking of a present messianic kingdom, Compton typically uses the phrase “present spiritual kingdom,” which is how some dispensationalists who hold to a present form of the kingdom speak. However, non-dispensationalists do not seem to use the language of a spiritual kingdom. For instance, George Ladd, whom Compton cites as an exemplar of the present spiritual kingdom view, does not use the language of a “spiritual kingdom.” He speaks instead of a present kingdom and an inaugurated kingdom. I’m inclined to not qualify the present reign of Christ as something “spiritual” and confined to the interior of believers.

The Gospels Do Not Teach that the Kingdom of Heaven/God Was Present in Jesus’s Earthly Ministry

Compton first surveys three passages in the Gospels that some take to mean that the kingdom was present in Jesus’s ministry: Matthew 4:17; 12:28; Luke 17:20-21. Of the first text, Compton observes that to say the kingdom “is at hand” means it is imminent rather than present. Of the second, he argues that to say the kingdom had come upon them should be understood either as metonymy or as proleptic. Of the third, Compton argues that Jesus was not saying that the kingdom had a spiritual form that was within his followers but that the kingdom in the person of the King was standing among them.

I agree with Compton’s handling of Matthew 4:17. To say the kingdom is “at hand” is not to say it is present. Further I agree with Compton that this being the dominant expression in the Gospels other texts, like Matthew 12:28 and Luke 17:20-21, should be harmonized with this expression. However, these observations do not negate a present, inaugurated kingdom. If Jesus was exalted to his kingship in the resurrection-ascension event, then demonstrating that the kingdom was not present in the Gospels does not prove enough.

I am less convinced with Compton’s treatment of Matthew 12:28. I do not think it is sufficient to say that Jesus was speaking “as if [the kingdom] were already a present reality” (126). By casting demons out by the power of the Spirit a foretaste of the coming eschatological kingdom was being experienced in the present. Thus it is not just the “expression” that is proleptic, but the experience is proleptic. For what it is worth, I think Compton could adopt the interpretation just suggested without damaging his position.

I am also largely in agreement with Compton’s interpretation of Luke 17:20-21, though with Bock (referenced by Compton in note 30), I do see this as part of the inauguration of the kingdom.

The Parables of Matthew 13 Do Not Teach the Presence of the Kingdom Before the Return of Christ

Compton next turns to the parables of Matthew 13, which he notes have been appealed to as evidence for a present form of the kingdom. While Compton concedes that that Matthew 13 would appear to provide “weighty” evidence for a present kingdom, he nonetheless maintains that the chapter need not be read to support a present form of the kingdom (128).

First, he observes that the phrase “mysteries of the kingdom of heaven” (Mt 13:11) need only refer to the “specific truths being revealed” in the parables and does not necessitate a “mystery ‘form’ of the kingdom” (129). I would agree with Compton on this point, but I’d also note that the mystery that some of these parables seem to reveal is that the kingdom is not going to emerge precisely according to the Old Testament understanding. This is not to say that something other than what the Old Testament taught will be the case; it is to say that something in addition to what the Old Testament taught is the case. Namely, there would be a phase of the kingdom that precedes Christ’s triumphant rule on earth. In other words, Matthew 13, in my view, provides a challenge to Compton’s fundamental argument in this chapter.

Second, Compton critiques those who appeal to verb tenses in Matthew 13 to establish a present form of the kingdom. I agree with Compton’s critique.

Third, Compton argues that the parable of the soils does not teach a present stage of the kingdom; rather, it teaches that between the two advents people will be saved who will then enter into the kingdom at the second advent. Compton then applies this paradigm to the following parables. This understanding is just possible with the parable of the soils, since the explicit kingdom element of that parable is the seed, which is the “word of the kingdom” (Mt 13:18).

However, the other parables fit into this paradigm with greater difficulty. For instance, the parable of the weeds speaks of “sons of the kingdom” existing at present, and it teaches that the angels will “gather out of his kingdom” all of the sons of the evil one (Mt 13:38, 41). Thus, there must be an existing kingdom from which the weeds are gathered. Compton counters this argument by asking, “If the kingdom in view is the Lord’s spiritual reign in the lives of believers, as proponents of the present form of the kingdom have argued, in what sense must the Lord remove evil ones from this kingdom when he returns?” (131). In other words, the wicked cannot be part of a spiritual kingdom present in the hearts of believers. Compton further proposes reading the parable of the weeds in light of Matthew 25:31-33 in which the sheep of that parable are invited to enter the kingdom. Thus, the gathering of the wicked out of the kingdom refers to Christ “removing unbelievers from the earth just prior to the inauguration of his kingdom” (132).

Compton notes that the view just articulated was not only the view of Alva McClain but was also the view of George Ladd. Ladd “cannot have unbelievers being taken out of this kingdom if this kingdom represents the present spiritual reign of Christ in the line of believers” (132, n. 42). However, the problem for Ladd and those who follow him is in defining kingdom as a reign and minimizing the idea of a realm. I would argue that even in the present reign of Christ, the realm of his kingdom is the earth. Thus, when Christ returns, he removes the sons of the evil one from his kingdom (the earth) and invites the sons of the kingdom to the inheritance, which is the consummated kingdom. This reading fits the paradigm laid out in Psalm 110 in which at present Christ reigns “in the midst” of his enemies whereas in the future “he will shatter kings on the day of his wrath.”

The other parables would confirm the concept of a present, inaugurated kingdom. The mustard seed, which represents the kingdom, grows into a great tree (drawing on Old Testament kingdom imagery). The great tree is the image of the kingdom when Christ returns, but the small seed growing is the image of the kingdom. Likewise, the leaven is an image of the kingdom as something imperceptible but real at present. It is difficult to deny that these parables teach a present aspect of the kingdom. Further, it is important that Jesus concludes his teaching on the kingdom in this chapter by indicating that he has been teaching something new as well as something old (Mt 13:52).

Compton’s thesis is that the Gospels do not adjust or expand the understanding of the kingdom presented in the Old Testament. However, I would argue that this is precisely what Jesus is doing in Matthew 13. For those who expect Christ to immediately set up a reign on earth that defeats all his enemies, Christ is teaching that there will be a phase of the kingdom in which the sons of the kingdom and the sons of the evil ones co-exist. In addition, during that period, the Christ’s kingdom will appear insignificant and even invisible—though it is truly at work.

Question about Christ’s Rule in the Lives of Old Testament and New Testament Believers

In his discussion of Matthew 13, Compton raises a probing question:

if these parables introduce a mystery form of the kingdom, defined as Jesus Christ’s present spiritual rule in the lives of believers, is this rule something that Christ did not exercise in the lives of Old Testament believers? Or if Christ rules in the lives of all true believers, whether in the Old Testament or the New, in what sense is Jesus introducing a present spiritual form of the kingdom? Jesus cannot both rule in the lives of all true believers (both Old Testament and New Testament believers) and at the same time introduce a mystery form of the kingdom involving his present spiritual rule in the lives of believers. [131]

I would answer this question in two ways. First, I would question limiting the reign of Christ to a spiritual rule in the lives of believers. Second, I would note that in the Old Testament there was no messianic king to exercise rule. The kingdom of heaven/God that Jesus announced as at hand was not the reign of God as God. That had never ceased. The kingdom announced by Jesus was the reign of God through his human vicegerent. Until the incarnation there could be no kingdom in this sense. There could be no reign of Christ prior to the incarnation, but once the incarnation occurred, the kingdom of heaven/God is at hand. At the end of Matthew’s Gospel Jesus said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.” As God, Jesus always had all authority. This must be referring to Jesus as the Davidic Messiah, and it would be an indication that he is now reigning as Davidic Messiah.

The Pauline Epistles Do Not Connect the Kingdom and the Church

Compton answers the third question (how does the kingdom relate to the church?) by looking at three Pauline texts that could be read as teaching the presence of the kingdom: Romans 14:17; 1 Corinthians 4:20; Colossians 1:13.

Compton rightly notes that most of Paul’s kingdom references to refer to the kingdom in the future.

He further argues that Romans 14:17 and 1 Corinthians 4:20 teach that Christians should live in the present age “by the conduct that will characterize God’s future kingdom” (134). This is possible, but it is not an especially likely reading of Romans 14:17. In context, Paul is discussing dispensational differences between the era of Mosaic covenant and the present age. It seems that Paul is referring to present age under the nomenclature of “kingdom of God.”

Colossians 1:13 presents a greater challenge to Compton’s view. It states that the believer has been rescued “from the domain of darkness and transferred … into the kingdom of the Son” (CSB). Compton argues that this is equivalent to Paul’s saying that believers are presently seated in the heavenlies (Eph. 2:6). It is positional and something that will be enjoyed in the future, but it is not a present reality. Further, Compton argues that the parallel, “delivered … from the domain of darkness” also refers to a future event since Satan remains the ruler of the “present world system” (135). Nonetheless, positionally, believers have been delivered.

I’m not convinced that this line of argumentation works. First, to be transferred into a kingdom seems to be an inherently positional statement, and thus it seems hard to divorce the position from the idea of a present reality. If a person’s position is that of being in the kingdom, it would seem that the kingdom would need to be a present reality. Further, the believer is no longer under the “authority of darkness” (LSB) as a believer. This too is a present reality. I’m also not sure that the appeal to Ephesians helps, as it appears that believers are currently seated in the heavenlies by virtue of their union with Christ.

I can see how Compton can get these three texts to fit his system, but I’m not seeing his system demanded by the key New Testament texts. Instead, it seems Compton is having to explain quite a number of texts that seem to contradict his position. There are additional texts in Acts that further complicate the argument against a present inauguration of the kingdom.

Theological and Practical Significance of Compton’s Position

In his conclusion, Compton draws out the significance of his position for the church today. First, he argues that his position points toward greater discontinuity between Israel and the church since the church is not now fulfilling any of the promises given to Israel in the Old Testament. Second, he argues that if there is no present form of the kingdom, the church does not have a mandate to fulfill social responsibilities. With regard to this latter point, I would simply note that there are those who hold to the presence of the kingdom who also are reticent about a social mandate for the institutional church. Since the kingdom is a broader category than the institution of the church, and since sphere sovereignty also comes into play, it is not necessary to adopt Compton’s view to keep the church on mission.

Compton’s essay is well-argued, and I can see how he can interpret texts to fit his position, but I do not find his interpretations the most natural reading of these texts, nor do I see that a theological loss for recognizing that Christ inaugurated the messianic kingdom upon his resurrection and ascension.

William D. Barrick, “Biblical Covenants and Their Fulfillment,” in Dispensationalism Revisited

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William Barrick contributed a chapter on the biblical covenants in Dispensationalism Revisited: A Twenty-First Century Restatement, a book is a Festschrift for Charles Hauser, Jr. published by Central Baptist Theological Seminary.

Barrick focuses on the six covenants that he identifies as having been made between God and Israel: “the Abrahamic Covenant, the Mosaic (or Sinaitic) Covenant, the Priestly (or Zadokite) Covenant, the Deuteronomic (or Palestinian) Covenant, the Davidic Covenant, and the New Covenant” (103). Barrick mentions the Noahic covenant in passing, but he claims that the blessing, seed, land, nation, and kingdom themes found in the Israelite covenants are not found in the Noahic covenant.

Barrick also identifies eight dispensations to which he will relate the covenants. He understands dispensations as periods in which there are varied rules for God’s people. For instance, the dietary requirements for God’s people changed in different dispensations. Barrick is clear that man’s soteriological need, the instrument and object of faith, the work of Christ, and other elements of salvation remained constant across dispensations. His eight dispensations are as follows:

“1. The Dispensation of Innocence (Gen 1:1-3:21)

2. The Dispensation of Conscience (Gen 3:22-8:12)

3. The Dispensation of Human Government (Gen 8:13–11:32)

4. The Dispensation of Promise (Gen 12:1-Exod 18:27)

5. The Dispensation of Law (Exod 19:1-Acts 1:26)

6. The Dispensation of Grace/the Church (Acts 2:1-Rev 19:21)

7. The Dispensation of the Messianic Kingdom (Rev 20:1-15)

8. The Dispensation of the Eternal Kingdom (Rev 21:1-27; 22:1-5)” (112)

Because he is focused on the Israelite covenants, Barrick does not correlate the first three dispensations with a covenant or covenants. He correlates the Abrahamic covenant with the dispensation of promise. He correlates the Mosaic, priestly, Deuteronomic, Davidic, and new covenants with the dispensation of law. He further correlates the new covenant with the dispensations of grace/church, of the mediatorial kingdom, and of the eternal kingdom.

Complicating these correlations, he also holds that the Mosaic covenant had an initial fulfillment in the past and that it will have a future fulfillment int he millennial period during which Israel will faithfully keep the Mosaic law. In addition, though he correlates the new covenant with the dispensation of the church, he distinguishes between Israel as the nation with which the new covenant is made and Gentile Christians who receive the benefits of the new covenant through their relationship with Christ.

Barrick’s treatment reveals some standard weaknesses in dispensational treatments of the biblical covenants, which I do not think are endemic to dispensationalism. Dispensational treatments of the covenants usually focus on the covenants with Israel. For instance, both Pentecost’s Things to Come and Robert Saucy’s The Case for Progressive Dispensationalism begin with the Abrahamic covenant. Darrell Bock mentions the Noahic covenant in both Progressive Dispensationalism and in his contribution to Covenantal and Dispensational Theologies: Four Views on the Continuity of Scripture. But in his coverage in the former book is brief, and in the structure of the latter the Noahic covenant is marginalized. Further, the creation covenant is either ignored or, as in the case of Bock, denied.

However, it is important to recognize that the themes of blessing, seed, and land/kingdom all emerge from the creation covenant outlined in Genesis 1 and 2. Further, these elements which, Barrick fails to see in the Noahic covenant, are indeed there. Once the creation and Noahic covenants are given their place, the covenantal progress of Scripture becomes plain. Furthermore, there is less of a need for a complex relationship between the covenants and the dispensations. The dispensations are largely determined by the covenants. Barrick’s dispensation of innocence is the era of the unbroken creation covenant. His dispensation of conscience is the era of the broken creation covenant, an era in which the protoevangelium had been given but no new covenant yet cut. His dispensation of human government (an unfortunate label given that human government likely existed before the Flood) has its commencement at the cutting of the Noahic covenant. His correlation of the dispensation of promise with the Abrahamic covenant is an affirmation that that covenant created a dispensation, for the promise is that of the Abrahamic covenant. Likewise, with the dispensation of law, for the law in view is the Mosaic law. Finally, the cutting of the new covenant at the cross marks the beginning of the dispensation of grace. Because the new covenant is inaugurated now but only consummated later, a distinction can be made between the present era and the era of the new creation (of which I would understand the millennium to be the first stage). By relating dispensations to covenants, a rationale is provided for variation of some of God’s requirements for his people from age to age. Different covenants can have differing requirements.

If the reasoning of the previous paragraph holds, a further question is raised by the fact that the Mosaic covenant, priestly covenant, Deuteronomic covenant, and Davidic covenant are all correlated to the dispensation of law. I would argue that Barrick’s priestly covenant is subservient to the Mosaic covenant. Likewise, I would see the Deuteronomic covenant as a renewal of the Mosaic covenant.

The Davidic covenant is interesting in that I do not think it marks a distinct dispensation or age. Instead, it initially functioned under the Mosaic covenant and now continues in the age of the new covenant. Similarly, the Noahic covenant remains in force until the final judgment. Thus, while covenants mark off various eras in redemptive history, there is some complexity to how they do so.

I would also understand the new covenant’s relationship to the dispensations differently than Barrick. Barrick locates the new covenant in the dispensations of law, grace/church, mediatorial kingdom, and eternal kingdom. However, while the new covenant was announced in the Old Testament, it did not exist under the dispensation of law. The cutting of the new covenant at the cross marked the end of the Mosaic covenant with its law and the beginning of the new covenant era. For this reason, I do not see how the Mosaic law can be brought back into force during the millennial period. The new covenant, as Hebrews eloquently argues, is definitively displaced the Mosaic covenant.

Kevin T. Bauder, “Israel and the Church: Is There Really a Difference,” in Dispensationalism Revisted

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Central Baptist Theological Seminary just published Dispensationalism Revisited: A Twenty-First Century Restatement. This book is a Festschrift for Charles Hauser, Jr. that is comprised of chapters by his former colleagues and students. The first three chapters focus on the classic sine qua nons of dispensationalism. This chapter by Kevin Bauder defends the distinction between Israel and the church as a sine qua non of dispensationalism. Bauder observes that the distinction between Israel and the church is “the most basic” of the sine qua non.

Bauder adapts a typology from Markus Barth to map the options of the relation of Israel and the church:

Some suppose that the church either replaces or continues Israel as the people of God. Others see a faithful remnant of believing Israel continuing within the church, which has now become the people of God. Still others draw a contrast between Israel and the church, resulting in distinct peoples of God. Some see an analogous relationship between Israel and the church within the one people of God (71).

Bauder begins to adjudicate between these views by probing what is meant by the phrase “people of God.” He notes that people can be “plural for person” with “people of God” meaning “the sum total of all saved individuals.” However, it is another usage of people that is in play in the discussion of the church and Israel: “people groups” (72).

A brief survey of biblical data reveals these people groups to be nations, in the sense of ethnic groups. A further survey of biblical data leads Bauder to conclude, “God’s plan did not focus exclusively upon calling and saving individual believers. It also included a role for nations” (75). Thus, “A people of God is a nation that worships Jehovah, the true and living God. They are a people of God because he is their God and they are his people” (78).

Israel was a people of God that God created to be his own. According to Bauder presence in the land was essential to being a people exiled Israel was “not my people” (Hos 1:9-11). Bauder also notes the significance of the marriage metaphor for indicating that Israel was the people of God, and he posits Israel’s entrance into the Sinai covenant as the time of their entering this marriage relationship. Though God’s judgment on Israel is depicted as a divorce, that is not the last word. Israel’s purpose as people of God is to mediate the knowledge of God to the nations. The goal is for there to be many peoples of God. This goal will be realized, but “there will always be something special about Israel” (83).

The church is also called the people of God. In addition, Bauder notes that “the church is often described by referencing Old Testament descriptions of Israel as a people of God (Rom 9:22-26; Titus 2:14; 1 Pet 2:9; cf. Exod 19:5-6; Hos 2:23)” (83). Bauder then observes that these facts surface two questions: “First, how can the church be called a people if a people is fundamentally an ethnic unit? Second, how is the church related to Israel, such that descriptions of the one can be applied to the other?

Bauder answers the first question by appealing to the union with Christ passages, concluding, “All the other peoples of God are (or will be) constituted as peoples by their solidarity with a biological ancestor. The church is a people, not because of its natural genealogy but by virtue of its spiritual union with Christ. This union is what constitutes it both as a people and as a people of God” (84).” It seems that Bauder is proposing that the church is the people of God between the comings of Christ, that Israel was the people of God before the church and will be again in the Millennium, and that the redeemed nations will be the peoples of God in the Millennium as well.

After laying out this model Bauder turns to Ephesians 2:11-22 and John 10 to answer the question, “how is the church related to other peoples of God?” (85). In reflecting on Ephesians 2:11-22, Bauder proposes that in the OT there were two basic ethnic groups: Jews and Gentiles, only one of which was the people of God. In the present age, there are three basic ethnic groups, Jews, Gentiles, and the church. He points out that 1 Peter 2:9 even calls the church a nation. In John 10 Bauder sees Israel as the fold in which there were two flocks, those who were truly his people and those who were not. Jesus leads those who are his out of the fold of Israel where he unites them in one flock with other sheep that are his which were not of the fold (Gentile believers). This one new flock is the church.

This is Bauder’s conclusion: “The church is a people of God. Because it is a people of God, it is like Israel in some respects, but it is also different. Israel was a visible nation with visible descent from a common ancestor. The church is a spiritual nation with invisible union created both by Spirit baptism and by following a common Shepherd. Israel and the church are both peoples of God, but they are not the same people. They are not even the same kind of people. The element that constitutes each as a nation is different” (88-89).

This leads Bauder to consider the relationship between Israel and the Church. He enumerates elements of continuity first. The saints in both the church and Israel are saved the same way, both pursue the same “life of faith,” (90), both are “branches from a common root (Rom 11:16-25)” (90), both are part of the “same household of God even though they are distinct peoples” (Heb 3:2, 5) (90), and “both belong to the category of ‘people of God'” (90). These continuities justify 1 Peter 2’s application of Exodus 19:5-6 and Hosea 2:23 to the church.

Bauder then considers whether identifying Christians as of the true, inner circumcision means that the church is the new Israel. He concludes in the negative, noting that a distinction between inner and outer circumcision persisted throughout the Old Testament. For the Jew, having the one did not negate the necessity of the other. The fact that Gentiles have inner circumcision does not mean, however, that they are Jews (who were distinguished by outer circumcision).

Evaluation

Bauder has written a careful essay that demonstrates the variety of biblical data that must be accounted for in developing a theology of the people of God. He handles this data well, and his position accounts for the range of the data.

However, I think there is one important theological concept missing from Bauder’s treatment of the people of God. At the same time that I read Bauder’s essay, I read Rod Decker’s article on the people of God in The Dictionary of Premillennial Theology. Decker, though also a traditional dispensationalist, synthesized the biblical data somewhat differently. Decker emphasized the importance of a covenant relationship for establishing a people of God relationship.

The first uses of your people or my people (with reference to Yhwh) occurs in Exodus 5:23 and 6:7. It then recurs throughout the narrative of the conflict with Pharoah, not least in the iconic phrase “Let my people go.” It is clear in these contexts that the term people refers to an ethnic group, and that group is is God’s people due to a covenant relation with God (the Abrahamic covenant at this point). In Exodus 19:5, in a statement of the Mosaic covenant, God says that if Israel kept that covenant they would be Yhwh’s “treasured possession among all the peoples,” which is to say that Israel would be God’s special people. Throughout the rest of the Old Testament, Israel’s status as the people of God is rooted in the Mosaic covenant.

The New Testament data is more complicated. The angel told Joseph to name Mary’s Son Jesus because “he will save his people from their sins” (Mt. 1:21). Though this could be read narrowly as saying that Jesus would save the Jews from their sins (cf. Mt. 2:4, 6), it would be better to understand people in this context to refer to all those whom Jesus saves. In Matthew God’s people expands to include the Gentiles (cf. Mt. 4:15-16). Further, those whom Jesus saves from their sins includes all the redeemed from all periods of history. This points to the people of God as a comprehensive category for the redeemed.

This comprehensive usage does not negate the numerous places in the Gospels where the people are the Jewish nation (e.g., Lk 2:32; 7:16). There are also historical reference to Israel as God’s people (Acts 7:34; 13:17).

In the New Testament, the church is the people of God as believing Jews and Gentiles now both share in the new covenant. I’m not sure that the application of the people imagery to the church requires the church to be conceived of as an ethnic group, as Bauder does. To be sure, on occasion the church is singled out from Jews and Gentiles as a third race, but at other times the church is conceived of as comprised of people of various ethnicities. Thus, I am willing to see the label of people as applied to the church as figurative. The church is not an ethnic group as Israel is, but it can be described as the people of God because it is in covenant with God as Israel was.

In Romans 9:25-26 Paul takes statements from Hosea 1 that referred to Israel and applied them to converted Gentiles. Hosea revealed that the Israel which violated the Mosaic covenant were now “not my people,” but he also promised, on the basis of the Abrahamic covenant that one day they would again be called “my people.” Paul can apply these words to the Gentiles because when Israel became “not my people” they became as the Gentiles. Further the Abrahamic covenant not only guaranteed the restoration of Israel as the people of God but also promised the salvation of Gentiles. Thus Romans 9:25-26 seems to envision Jews and Gentiles in the new covenant era as part of the same people of God. In Romans 11, however, Paul can still speak of Israel in particular as “his people” (Rom. 11:1-2; see also Rom. 15:10). However, some think that the olive tree in that chapter represents a unified people of God.

Similarly, In 2 Corinthians 6:16-18 Paul applies passages that originally applied to Israel to the church at Corinth. Specifically, he applies the covenant formula, “I will be their God and they shall be my people.” This can be said of Gentiles in the church because they are included in the new covenant.

In Titus 2:14 Paul said that Christ “gave himself for us … to purify for himself a people for his own possession.” This would seem to refer to a unified people spanning both Testaments; all people comprised of all the redeemed.

In the book of Hebrews the concept of people of God is applied to Israel, to the church, and to all the redeemed throughout the ages. The author of Hebrews says, “there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God” (Heb. 4:9). In the immediate context, the people of Israel are in view, but the author is applying this teaching to all the redeemed: “let us therefore strive to enter that rest” (Heb. 4:11). Thus, “people of God” here seems to stand for all the redeemed. There are a few additional places in Hebrews where “the people” seems to be used of all the redeemed (Heb. 2:17; 13:12). Hebrews 8:10 applies the new covenant promise, “they shall be my people” to the church. Likewise, quotation of Ps 50:4; 135:14 applies a “my people” that originally referred to Israel to contemporary believers.  Note, however, that there are places in Hebrews where people does specifically refer to Israel (Heb. 5:3; 7:11, 27; 9:7, 19). The use of “people of God” in Hebrews 11:25, the people Moses chose to mistreated among would in the first place be Israel, but in this context would most likely connote believers specifically.

In 1 Peter 2:9-10 language that was used of Israel is used of the church. The church is called “a chosen race,” “a holy nation,” and “a people for his own possession.” These are all ethnic terms applied to a body made up of many ethnicities. Thus verse 10 says, “Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people.” I don’t think that we need to find a way to make the church literally another ethnic group. Rather, I think that we should see terms that were ethnic terms when originally applied to Israel applied to the church metaphorically, with the emphasis being that the church is now the new covenant body of people possessed by God just as Israel was the old covenant people possessed by God.

In Revelation 5:9 there are many peoples that worship the Lamb, while in Revelation 18:4  God can refer to “my people” in the singular. Revelation 21:3 has a textual variant in the covenant formula with some manuscripts reading singular people and others reading plural peoples. On balance, the plural is more likely: “God’s dwelling is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and will be their God” (CSB). Thus in this last statement of the covenant formula the plurality of the peoples of God is emphasized. And yet, this phrase is announced from heaven at the descent of the new Jerusalem to earth. This new Jerusalem has the names of the twelve tribes of Israel inscribed on its gates and the names of the twelve apostles inscribed on its foundations, which would point to the unity of the people of God in the Old and New Testaments.

Conclusion

I think Bauder has provided a plausible synthesis of the biblical data regarding the people of God: Old Testament Israel was a people of God, the church is a people of God due to its connection to Christ, and in the future there will be many peoples of God. He also acknowledges that people can be used of all the redeemed.

However, when the category of covenant is introduced, I think a slightly different synthesis of the data comes to the fore. A group becomes a people of God by entering into covenant with God. Thus Israel was identified as the people of God primarily by virtue of its covenant relationship with God. Further, Israel as the people of God included both the redeemed and the unredeemed since the Mosaic covenant included both the redeemed and unredeemed.

When used of Israel, the term people retains its full ethnic sense. It is a people or nation in covenant with God. The church, on the other hand, is the multi-ethnic new covenant people of God. I do not think that the theologian needs to find a way to conceive of the church as an ethnic group (as Bauder does by appealing to union with Christ). Rather, I think the terminology of people, used literally of Israel as a nation in covenant with God, is applied metaphorically to the church. While in one place the category of church is placed alongside the ethnic categories of Jew and Gentile (1 Cor. 10:32), in other places it is clear that neither Jews nor Gentiles in the church give up their ethnic identities by becoming part of the church.

In addition, passages like Deuteronomy 30 indicate that the truly redeemed of all ages are those who called out by faith to receive the internal circumcision and union with Christ that the new covenant promised. Thus, the core of people who experience regeneration in both Testaments form a unity that enables one to speak of a unified people of God even as one speaks of an Old Testament people of God and a New Testament people of God.

Finally, because of the covenant lens, I’m hesitant to follow Bauder’s three-stage people of God: Israel in the Old Testament, church at present, many peoples of God in the millennium and new creation. The new covenant remains the covenant in force into the millennium and beyond. However, there are occasions when the Bible speaks of various nations as peoples of God in the new creation (Isa. 19:25; Rev. 21:3).

My conclusion would be that the Bible uses the terminology people of God in various ways. It can be used of Israel under the Mosaic covenant. It can be used of the church as the new covenant people of God. It can be used of all the redeemed throughout the ages. And it can be used of nations in the new creation. Some of these senses are limited to stages in redemptive history. For instance, Israel is a people of God under the Mosaic covenant only while the Mosaic covenant is in force. The nations are peoples of God only in the new creation because in the new creation alone are all the people in those nations redeemed. But some of these senses span ages. The sense of all the redeemed throughout the ages, clearly spans the ages.

So is there one, two, or many peoples of God? The answer is “yes” depending on the sense in view. This is a different answer than I would have given before reading Bauder’s essay. I commend the essay for compelling readers to think through the issue of the people of God with greater precision and clarity.

Matthew Franck about the Danger of Voting for Unqualified and Morally Corrupt Candidates

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The Dispatch published yesterday an article by Matthew Franck which makes the case for withholding one’s vote from the candidates in this year’s election. Here is the nub of the argument: “What we must consider … is not our role in the outcome of the election (which is negligible, and unknown to us when voting), but the effect on our conscience and character of joining our will to a bad cause.”

Here is a further argument.

Eight years ago, I published an essay for Public Discourse about why I could not vote for either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump. “Vote as if your ballot determines nothing whatsoever—except the shape of your own character,” the piece concluded. “Vote as if the public consequences of your action weigh nothing next to the private consequences. The country will go whither it will go, when all the votes are counted. What should matter the most to you is whither you will go, on and after this November’s election day.”

There is nothing in what I said then that I would now retract. I rejected the idea that I, as one individual, must treat my choice as confined to the binary of Clinton versus Trump, as though the weight of the outcome were on me alone. It is frequently the case that we vote for one major-party presidential candidate principally because we are against the other one—usually because we find “our guy” a less than optimal choice but “the other guy” strongly repellent. But when we conclude that both of them are wholly unfit for office, our habitual partisan commitments, and our fond hope that the one representing “our side” will be normal, or guided by normal people, do not compel us to cast a vote in that direction. What we must consider, I argued, is not our role in the outcome of the election (which is negligible, and unknown to us when voting), but the effect on our conscience and character of joining our will to a bad cause.

The last eight years have made me more certain I was right. In 2020, although the Trump administration had done some things I could applaud (Supreme Court appointments topping the list), I still found Trump himself wholly unqualified for an office he had never learned to respect or master. This was even before the insurrection of January 6, 2021, which, I have argued, constitutionally disqualified him. And Joe Biden? Please. He became my senator shortly before I entered high school, and I had long watched his career with consternation and loathing. I didn’t want to have to defend, even to myself, having cast a vote for either man, and once again I threw away my presidential vote on a hopeless write-in.

Franck makes this perceptive observation:

For at the end of the day, that is what voting is: a kind of investment. Not of our money, but of ourselves—our will, our intention, our passion, and our conscience. Of course, our investment can be a light matter to us, if we cast our vote in a throwaway mood, thinking “better this guy than the other guy.” Then we might cut our emotional losses when he disappoints us. “Live and learn.” Yet paradoxically, if it took a great effort to “screw your courage to the sticking place,” as Lady Macbeth put it—if, that is, you had to swallow hard to vote for a candidate, and he won—you may find your investment in him very heavy, and your felt need to defend him equally so.

As a resident of South Carolina, where I know my vote for president will make no difference in the election, it is easy to vote my conscience. However, it is arguably the right thing even in a swing state.

With regard to deontology: A vote is an authorization for an elected offical to act. To vote for someone who is unqualified and who has demonstrated a willingness to abuse power is to bear some culpability for that person’s misuse of power in office.

With regard to consequences: In the last several elections people have been pressured to vote for an immoral and unqualified candidate because of the perceived consequences the opponent’s victory. But it is never right to do wrong in order to get a chance to stop someone else from doing wrong. Further, it is only when voters will not vote for candidates who violate their principles that they have any leverage with the party to put forward better candidates. For instance, if pro-life voters vote for Donald Trump (or Joe Biden) despite his recent attacks on pro-life legislation (or longstanding support for abortion), we will get more candidates opposed to pro-life legislation. If conservatives had withheld their votes from Trump in 2020, delivering him a decisive loss, Republicans would likely have a conservative running for president now. They would likely have a stronger position in Congress which, along with the Supreme Court, would have been able to be a stronger check on the Biden administration. Doing the right thing won’t necessarily bring good consequences in the medium term, but in that case it likely would have.

With regard to virtue: This is what Franck’s article focused on. How will my vote shape my character? What vices will it lead me to start to defend if I attach myself to a vicious candidate. Note that this works both ways in this election. There are some people who voted for Trump who have started to defend his moral defects as virtues. There are others who who voted for Biden out of concerns regarding Trump and have begun to shift their positions on abortion or other moral issues. To be sure that there are others who have not allowed their votes to deform their character or moral sensibilities, but this is nonetheless and important consideration—especially for those inclined not to leave the presidential line blank this year.

Articles and Reviews in the Spring 2024 issue of the Journal of Biblical Theology and Worldview

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The Spring 2024 issue of the Journal of Biblical Theology and Worldview just released.

I contributed an article, “The Futurist Interpretation of Revelation: Evidence from the Seal Judgments’ Reliance on the Olivet Discourse.” Here’s my conclusion:

This article has sought to make the case that the best interpretation of the Olivet Discourse understands its first section to be about both the events culminating in the destruction of the Temple in AD 70 and about the eschatological Day of the Lord of which those events were types. On this understanding of the Olivet Discourse, the best interpretation of the seal judgments is a futurist interpretation.

I also contributed a review of Schreiner’s commentary on Revelation in the BECNT series and a review of Michael Vlach’s The New Creation Model.

Of Schreiner’s commentary I concluded:

Schreiner’s commentary on Revelation provides readers with a well-executed commentary on Revelation from an idealist perspective. It also presents readers with an intriguing interpretation of Revelation 20, which gestures in the right direction on many points but which ultimately fails to satisfy. The commentary is worth buying as the now clearest in-depth exposition of the book from an idealist perspective. However, for those who believe a futurist perspective is correct, Grant Osborne’s contribution to the Baker Exegetical Commentary (which remains available) and Buist Fanning’s recent commentary in the Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament series are to be preferred.

My assessment of Vlach was mixed. I agree with his new creation eschatology, but I was compelled to register three critiques. “First, the exegetical case of the New Creation Model could have been stronger. Second, Vlach did not engage primary sources arguing for the Spiritual Vision Model. … Third, Vlach worked too hard to tie the New Creation Model to dispensationalism. … One can argue, as Stephen James does effectively in New Creation, Eschatology, and the Land, that a consistent New Creation viewpoint should have a place for nations and a restored Israel in its land. However, it is difficult to argue that [certain] theologians do not adhere to the New Creation Model when some of them have been some of the most significant promoters of the model.”

Thoughts on Mark Snoeberger’s “‘Received’ Laws of Language” and Dispensational Hermeneutics

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In the last couple of posts I’ve interacted with Roy Beacham’s argument for a literal hermeneutic. I indicated that while I share Beacham’s concerns about approaches to Old Testament interpretation that re-interpret the text contrary to authorial intent, I think that the approach he advocates makes it difficult to understand numerous New Testament interpretations and fulfillments of Old Testament passages.

A few years back I raised a similar concern regarding Mark Snoeberger’s contribution to Covenantal and Dispensational Theologies: Four Views.

[Traditional dispensationalists] often begin by laying out their hermeneutic as if it is axiomatic and then insist that all passages conform to this hermeneutic without having first demonstrated the validity of their hermeneutic. Here Snoeberger explicitly affirms this approach. This approach violates the sufficiency of Scripture, since Scripture’s own self-interpretation should be the foundation for any biblical hermeneutic.

Interestingly, an article in the most recent volume of the Detroit Baptist Seminary Journal responds to the concern I raised. In “‘Received’ Laws of Language: The Existence, Ground, and Preliminary Identification of a Hermeneutically Disputed Notion” and an accompanying blog post, “The Sufficiency of Scripture and Transcendental Knowledge,” Snoeberger provides a substantial defense of his approach.

In the article, Snoeberger argues for the existence of natural laws. He further argues for a Van Tillian understanding of how these laws are “received.” Finally, he argues that natural laws are not restricted to matters of morality but that they encompass matters such as linguistics. I want to agree with Snoeberger on these matters.

In the blog post, rejects the sufficiency of Scripture critique by noting, “there must exist some tentative/provisional awareness, prior to reading the Bible, of certain basic hermeneutical a prioris. Otherwise, we would be caught in a paradox: we could not access the very Bible from which we learn how to read the Bible.”

I take the point. Further, I share his concern about the resurgence of pre-modern multi-sense interpretive approaches. Appeals to the Great Tradition to defend these interpretative models often undermine the sufficiency of Scripture.

Nonetheless, I have three reservations about Snoeberger’s argument. The first is practical, and the second two are theological.

First, while one can respond to the resurgence of pre-modern multi-sense interpretations by appealing to the received laws of language, I think it would be more fruitful to make the case that the apostles themselves did not adopt the allegorical approaches that became common in the patristic and medieval periods. This seems to me a more straightforward argument than appeals to the natural laws of linguistics. For an example of this kind of argument, see chapter 6 of my dissertation.

Second, while I affirm the reality of creational norms / natural laws, and while I think Christian’s should study creation (which includes the facility humans have in language) to discern these creational norms, all efforts to determine creational norms or natural laws need to be tested against Scripture. A key test would be to see how Scripture writers in both the Old and New Testament interpreted previous Scripture passages.

Third, while it is the case that “there must exist some tentative/provisional awareness, prior to reading the Bible, of certain basic hermeneutical a prioris,” a doctrine of biblical hermeneutics needs to be grounded in Scripture because of the doctrine of the sufficiency of Scripture. In other words, a doctrine of biblical hermeneutics needs to ground hermeneutical a prioris in the biblical text.

I should clarify that Snoeberger does in his contribution to the Four Views book and in other places seek to give an account of the New Testament’s use of the Old. For instance, in another recent post to the DBTS blog, Snoeberger argues that the New Testament often uses Old Testament language by way of analogy, metaphor, and corpus linguistics. In other words, the New Testament may be using Old Testament language without claiming to be interpreting those Old Testament texts. In particular, he claims this approach is better than seeing Old Testament types fulfilled by New Testament antitypes.

I grant the NT may well make use of the OT in the way Snoeberger describes, and I fully grant that many hymns and later Christian writings certainly do so. But I’m not convinced that analogy, metaphor, and corpus linguistics will account for all of the OT’s use of the NT.

Roy Beacham, “Literalism and the Prophets”: Case Study: Joel 2 and Acts 2

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In yesterday’s post I looked at Beacham’s chapter in defense of literal interpretation of the prophets. Despite being somewhat critical of the chapter, I should acknowledge my appreciation of Beacham’s scholarship. My engagement with it here due to the fact that I find myself challenged by his arguments and helpful to work through a response to them.

Beacham’s article commendably makes its case directly from Scripture. However, I would have appreciated some engagement with how the New Testament interprets Old Testament prophecy. In footnote 54 Beacham does give a hint of his approach.

He argues that “Joel 2 … is applied argumentatively by Peter in his sermon recorded in Acts 2.” He further claims that this application “in no way necessitates or even suggests their actual fulfillment (59, n. 54). He is especially concerned that this prophecy not be “assign[ed] … to a different time, place, people, or outcome in contradistinction to those originally stated” (59, n. 54). Given this statement, and Beacham’s article, “Joel 2, Eschatology of” in the Dictionary of Premillennial Theology, I take him to locate the events of Joel 2:18-27 to latter part of the Tribulation and beginning of the Millennium.

Beacham does not understand the “afterward” in Joel 2:28 to refer to the immediately preceding verses “because those blessings are framed in terms of unending time” (“Joel 2,” 217). Rather, he relates the “afterward” to Joel 2:11. These are events that I’ll happen after “great and very awesome” day of Yhwh. On this reading, Joel 2:12-27 “constitute a digression that bisects the first and last sections of the chapter” (“Joel 2,” 217-18).

This interpretation, however, creates a tension with Peter’s statement, “But this is what was uttered through the prophet Joel” (Acts 2:16). Beacham’s interpretation of Joel 2 precludes a fulfillment in Peter’s day, but it is difficult to read Peter’s “This is what was uttered through the prophet Joel” as anything other than a statement of fulfillment. Peter did not say, “This is like what Joel uttered” or “this is analogous to what Joel uttered.” He said, “this is what was uttered through the prophet Joel” (emphasis added).

Another reading of the Joel prophecy allows for a more harmonious understanding of Joel 2 and Acts 2. If 2:18-27 is read as telescoping together the restoration of the land after the locust plague recounted in chapter 1 as well as the restoration after the final day of Yhwh judgment from the first part of chapter 2, the “afterward” in verse 28 could take place anytime after the original restoration. Beacham himself provides a rationale for not tying the “afterward” to the ultimate restoration—it is never ending. The rationale for this telescoping in 2:18-27 would be that Joel 1 relates to a historic locust judgment in Joel’s day while Joel 2:1-11, as I understand it, predicts and eschatological judgment that will be fulfilled during the final Day of Yhwh. Thus the restoration section that follows telescopes both the historical and eschatological restorations.

This reading allows for a literal reading of Peter’s “But this is what was uttered through the prophet Joel” and a literal reading of Joel. Peter replaced Joel’s “And it shall come to pass afterward” with “And in the last days it shall be.” As the New Testament elsewhere emphasized the last days began with the ascension of Christ. The events recounted in Acts 2:17-18 occurred in Acts just as prophesied at the beginning of these last days. The events in verses 19-20 will occur at the end of the last days. Peter, of course, did not know that this would be over 2,000 years later. Verse 21 is God’s call to people all through this time.

Roy E. Beacham, “Literalism and the Prophets: The Case for a Unified Hermeneutic,” in Dispensationalism Revisited

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Central Baptist Theological Seminary just published Dispensationalism Revisited: A Twenty-First Century Restatement. This book is a Festschrift for Charles Hauser, Jr. that is comprised of chapters by his former colleagues and students. The first three chapters focus on the classic sine qua nons of dispensationalism. This chapter by Roy Beacham defends literal interpretation as a sine qua non of dispensationalism.

Beacham’s thesis is that dispensationalists are correct to insist that “God intended all prophetic foretelling in Scripture to be understood literally and only literally” (32; cf. 36). He clarifies that literal interpretation does not negate “figures of speech” or “exaggerated” language, but he is not inclined to abandon the term (32, n. 1). Beacham’s method in this chapter is to demonstrate that what God says in Scripture about the genre of predictive prophecy requires such prophecy “to be literally and only literally understood, interpreted, and fulfilled” (33). He further clarifies that the involves rejecting “any form of other-than-literal, less-than-literal, or more-than-literal interpretation of prophetic predictions” (37).

Beacham makes his case by examining what Scripture says about the “purpose, ground, nature, function, and test of divinely appointed predicative prophecy” (37).

Beacham argues that the purpose of predictive prophecy is “apologetic”—it is designed to demonstrate that only God is the true God. In support of this thesis he cites Isaiah 41:21-24, 26; 42:8-9; 44:6-8; 45:18, 20-21; 48:3-5. From these texts Beacham concludes, “Any hermeneutical viewpoint that espouses any form of other-than-, less-than-, or more-than-literal fulfillment of God’s foretelling negates the declare purpose and evidentiary worth of this genre” (41). I see how this arguement counters “other-than” and “less-than” fulfillments, but I’m not sure it holds for “more-than.” If everything God predicted happened exactly as God said it would, but more happened in addition to what God predicted, how does the “more-than” negate this purpose for the prophecy? In fact, given the fact that no prophecy is exhausive, how does one escape “more-than” fulfillments.

Beacham argues that the ground of predictive prophecy is “God’s immutable person and efficacious speech” (42). Isaiah 45:18-19; 45:22-25 are cited since these are passages in which God swears by himself to perform what he has stated. He also appeals to Isaiah 44-48, noting that since the prophecy regarding Cyrus was fulfilled as stated God’s words about the nation Israel in this passage will also be fulfilled as stated. He concludes, “The prophecy itself gives neither the original hearers nor the ensuing readers any indication that God intended some of these sworn forecasts to be fulfilled exactly as stated, while others he intended to signify, typologize, expand, and/or spiritualize” (48). Once again, “expand” strikes me as an outlier in this list. How does expanding on a predictive prophecy undermine the fulfillment of what was predicted? In fact, what is progressive revelation but an expansion upon previous revelation. For instance, is not every subsequent revelation about the Messiah’s redemptive work an expansion of Genesis 3:15?

Beacham’s concern about expansion is detailed in note 32: “The argument seems almost ubiquitous among partial nonliteralists and  complementary heremeneuticians that people should be thankful and that God should be admired if he produces a ‘more expansive’ fulfillment than those that he originally swore. According to this innovative hermeneutical theory, God can do more than he promised, he just can’t do less…. In any case, the outworking of expanded nonliteral fulfillment usually does not result, formulaically, in the equation, ‘God promises to do x but instead he does x+,’ (something more than x). Rather, it results in the equation ‘God promises to do x but instead he does y, which, in their view is ≻ x (something greater than x). In reality, however, y us not x at all. It seems more theologically sound to assert, in every case, that if God swears on his own person and nature to do x, then God will in fact do x, nothing more and nothing less. Any other outcome, expanded or diminished, would call into question the efficacy of hiw words, not to mention the integrity of his person. No outcome can be ‘better’ than the exacting accomplishment of God’s self-sworn pronouncements all the time” (51, n. 32). I agree with Beacham that if x+ in reality means y instead of x, there is a problem. But that doesn’t really describe an “expansion” of the promises; it describes replacement under the lablel of expansion. Thus, I do not see who this argument negates expansion in principle as Beacham goes on to do. In fact, I am again left to wonder how expansion can be eliminated without predictive prophecy being exhasutive. For instance, is it not an expansion that the prophecies regarding Christ are divided into a first coming and a second coming?

Next Beacham argues that the nature of “predictive prophecy was univocal” (51). He argues that “there is no divergence of meaning between the human authors and the divine author” (52). He roots this in Deuteronomy 18:15-22, from which he concludes that “the human prophet served as no more than a mouthpiece” (55). (It is important to recognize that Beacham is here speaking specifically of prophecy.) Thus, “The prophet may have fully understood the prediction that he announced on behalf of God (1 Kgs 22:17, see 22:28) or the prophet may have found the forecast utterly perplexing (Dan 7:15-16), but neither case affected the prophecy’s meaning or intent whatever. If a true prophecy consisted of God’s words alone, and it did, then that true prophecy bore God’s meaning alone” (55). I’m not sure that this arguement advances the thesis. Those who wish to find a fuller sense find it God’s meaning. So negating the human meaning to focus on the divine meaning doesn’t really address this challenge. 

I would agree that there can be no contradiction between the divine and human authors of Scripture in terms of meaning, but as I’ve written elsewhere, “God, who knows all things, knows the whole scope of what he will reveal in Scripture along with all of the potentially correct applications. The human author is limited in what he can intend” (Scripture, Hermeneutics, and Theology, 211-12). For instance, Moses recorded the redemptive promise of Genesis 3:15. But did he understand all that God intended in that promise? Did he understand even what New Testament believers understand to day in reading that text? I am doubtful even though I also think that Old Testament believers understood more than scholars often give them credit for. Moses and God did not intend differenet things in Gensis 3:15 but God certainly intended things beyond what Moses could have known.

Beacham is also critical canonical interpretation. He is right to be concerned about appeals to canonical interpretation that negate promises like the land promises to Israel. But canonical interpretation seems to simply be the way that texts are read. If a person is reading a series of novels and one character seems ambiguous or evil in earlier volumes while a later volume reveals him to have been a secret agent working for the good side, that later information will necessarily reshape how those earlier scenes are understood. Likewise, when the seed promise of Genesis 3:15 is read in light of all the progressive revelation that develops that promise, a richer understanding of that promise is had by readers of Genesis 3. The abuse of canonical readings does not negate its proper, even inevitable, use.

To make his approach work, Beacham draws a stark line between meaning and  “implications and applications” (59). But it is not clear that the line between these is stark. E. D. Hirsh wrestled with this problem. At one point he said, “‘There is no magic land of meaning outside human consciousness.’ But Hirsch realized that humans often intend their meaning to be true in situations of which they presently have no knowledge (the distant future, for instance). Thus Hirsch was willing to broaden his statement so that principles from the original statement may be applied to new situations without violating authorial intention. But, he notes, his original statement ‘would be true if, godlike, we could oversee the whole of human consciousness, past, present, and future.'” This leads me to conclude, “One of the difficulties, where to draw the line between meaning and significance, is greatly mitigated if the Author intends all possible right applications from the beginning” (Scripture, Hermeneutics, and Theology, 210-11, citing E. D. Hirsch, Jr., “Meaning and Significance Reinterpreted,” Critical Inquiry 11, no. 2 (Dec. 1984), 202, 204).

Next, Beacham appeals to “the function of predictive prophecy” according to Deuteronomy 18:19. On the basis that the prophets were to be obeyed, he concludes that “all that they foretold, was both comprehendible and practicable by the ordinary person…. There could be no vast passing of time until the ultimate true meaning of God’s words to Israel could acquire their final significance through canonical reinterpretation and/or typological fulfillment” (61, emphasis added). I understand Beacham’s concern, expressed in footnotes 56-57, regarding interpreters who conclude that God will not do exactly as he predicted through the prophets but might actually do something other than the prophets said. I share that concern. But I’m not confident that Deuteronomy 18:19 is saying that that everything the prophet said was comprehended by the original audience. I’m not even sure that Beacham truly wants to press the point that far, since he acknowledged earlier that the prophets didn’t fully understand all that they were saying all that they were given to say. Nor do I want to diminish what the Old Testament saints could understand. I think they often understood more than modern scholars given them credit. Nevertheless, to turn again to Genesis 3:15, surely the understanding of the ultimate true meaning of God’s words has grown as God progressively revealed more about his redemptive plan in Christ. Doubtless Christians understand the meaning of Genesis 3:15 better than Adam or Moses. Or, to give another example, the Old Testament revealed much about the gospel going to the Gentiles and about Israel’s role in God’s plan in connection to this mission to the Gentiles. Surely Old Testament texts about the gospel coming to the Gentiles should be read in light of Acts and the Epistles.

Finally Beacham argues that the “test of predicative prophecy” supports his view (63, emphasis added). Deuteronomy 18:21-22; Jeremiah 28:7-9; Ezekiel 33:30-33 all affirm that the test of a true prophet is that his predictions come true. Beacham observes, “No caveat existed in God’s declared test of genuine prophecy to allow for spiritualized, typified, multi-intentioned, expanded, or canonically resignified fulfillments” (64). Once again, I would agree that interpretations in which the fulfillment of Old Testament texts are replaced with spiritual interpretations or resignified are condemned by these texts. Allegorical interpretation was something the pagans had to do to make sense of their sacred texts. It was not a method that Christians needed to or should have resorted to. But I remain puzzled about the inclusion of “multi-intentioned” and “expanded” in the list. If there are texts in which God says, “I will do X for believing Israel,” and he does X for believing Israel while also revealing later that he always intended to do the equivalent for believing Gentiles as well, how does that fall afoul of the above passages?

While the texts that Beacham adduces do rule out the spiritualizing approaches that were popular in previous centuries and some of the approaches today that reinterpret Old Testament texts, I do not think that the texts he cited contradict a complementary hermeneutic or interpretations in which the Old Testament texts retain their integrity while progressive revelation clarifies or extends the these OT texts.

In sum, while I share Beacham’s concerns about approaches to Old Testament interprertation that re-interpret the text contrary to authorial intent or which posit a “reality shift” (to borrow terminology from Craig Blaising) between the Old and New Testaments, I think that the approach he advocates makes it difficult to understand numerous New Testament interpretations and fulfillments of Old Testament passages. I want to interpret the Old Testament literally. I also want to interpret the New Testament’s use of the Old Testament literally.