Exegesis and Theology

The Blog of Brian Collins

Poythress on “Correlations with Providence in Genesis 1”

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Poythress, Vern S. “Correlations with Providence in Genesis 1,” WTJ 77 (2015): 71-99.

160px-Westminster_Theological_JournalThis article is the second in a recent trilogy of articles by Poythress on the opening chapters of Genesis. The heart of the article is a step through the creation week with particular attention given to correlations between God’s creation activity and normal providence. For instance, in normal providence heavy rains may cause water to cover dry land. Later the water recedes to show the dry land. This ordinary providence aligns with God’s causing the dry land to appear out of the water in creation. Or, God specially created the animals, but animals are “created” providentially though the normal processes of birth. I thought that Poythress sometimes showed real correlations between creation and providence, but other times I thought he was trying too hard. For instance, he sees a correlation between the original gift of food to eat in Genesis 1:29 and eating of plants today by humans. However, this is a stretch because God’s speech is looking beyond the creation week to the future. It’s not clear that something beyond ordinary providence was ever intended.

Poythress draws two conclusions from his observations regarding correlations between creation and providence. First, he looks at ANE creation myths and their similarities to the Genesis account. After noting that the differences between Genesis and the myths are far greater than the similarities, Poythress posits that many of the existing similarities developed as pagans  shaped their creation myths from observations of a providentially ordered world—a providential ordering that God had correlated with the true creation. This is an intriguing thought, but it would have been nice of Poythress had worked through some specific examples.

In conjunction with this first conclusion, Poythress considers John Walton’s claim that the creation account is concerned with functional rather than material creation. Poythress notes that his emphasis on correlations with providence has a functional bent to it, but he denies that this means that material creation is excluded from the account. The material creation is necessary for there to be functions.

Second, Poythress concludes that the days of creation are functional days rather than a week of six normal days. He says that since God rested from creation on the seventh day, the day of God’s rest is everlasting. This seems to be to be an unwarranted assumption. God’s rest from creation may be everlasting, but it does not follow from this that the seventh day is everlasting. In addition, I’m not sure how to make sense of the claim that the days of the creation week are somehow “God’s days,” days that are only analogous to human days in normal providence. God is eternal and, as I understand eternity, there are no successive God-days for human days to be analogous to. Nor is there anything in the text of Genesis to indicate that the first week is different from succeeding weeks in human history. Just because some things in the creation week are analogous to ordinary providence (e.g., special creation of animals correlates to the birth of animals) does not mean that the water of Genesis 1 is only analogous to water in ordinary providence (as Poythress suggested of Genesis 1:2) or that the days of Genesis 1 are only analogous to ordinary days.

I found Poythress’s first conclusion intriguing but in need of further support. I found his second conclusion less than persuasive.

William Perkins, Two Articles

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William Perkins could be called the father of Puritanism. His works, now being reprinted by Reformation Heritage Press, are well worth reading.

These two articles look at different aspects of Perkins’s thought:

Barry Waugh, “William Perkins: Augustine’s Protégé and Father of Puritan Theology,” The Confessional Presbyterian 11 (2015): 129-41.WilliamPerkinsPortrait

In this article Waugh provides some background to the Puritan movement and to William Perkins, noting the influence of his Laurence Chaderton as a patristics scholar at Cambridge before examining the use of Augustine in Perkins writings. Waugh’s quantitative analysis showed that Augustine played a significant role in Perkins’s writings, and his qualitative analysis of Perkins’s use of Augustine in one work showed significant influence on Perkins’s thought, though not a slavish following.

Ballitch, Andrew. “‘Not to Behold Faith, But the Object of Faith’: The Effect of William Perkins’s Doctrine of the Atonement on his Preaching of Assurance.” Themelios 40, no. 3 (Dec. 2015): 446-59.

Some, such as R. T. Kendall, have asserted that William Perkins’s belief in particular atonement prevented him from pointing people to the gospel or to Christ for the assurance of salvation since Perkins could only affirm that Christ atoned for the elect. This, it is claimed, led to an introspective approach to assurance. Ballitch surveys Perkins’s belief regarding the atonement and confirms that he did hold to a particular, rather than universal, view. But he looks at Perkins’s statements of how assurance should be preached and at his actual practice and concludes that Perkins points people in need of assurance to the gospel and to Christ and not inward alone.

Lloyd-Jones’s Evangelistic Sermons

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085151362XLloyd-Jones, D. M. Evangelistic Sermons at Aberavon. Carlisle, PA: Banner of Truth, 1983.

My pastor recommended these sermons to our church. Lloyd-Jones wrote and preached these messages shortly after his own conversion, and pastor commented that these sermons demonstrate  great insight into how the mind of unconverted people work. In this regard, they serve as a helpful tool to prepare one for evangelism. I found them also to be personally challenging and edifying as well.

Review of N. T. Wright’s Resurrection and the Son of God

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Wright, N. T. The Resurrection of the Son of God. Christian Origins and the Question of God. London: SPCK, 2003.

This is the best of Wright’s “big books” in my reading thus far. It contains insightful, well written observations like this one, found at the beginning of the book:

Proposing that Jesus of Nazareth was raised from the dead was just as controversial nineteen hundred years ago as it is today. The discovery that dead people stayed dead was not first made by the philosophers of the Enlightenment. The historian who wishes to make such a proposal is therefore compelled to challenge a basic and fundamental assumption—not only, as is sometimes suggested, the position of eighteenth-century scepticism, or of the ‘scientific worldview’ as opposed to a ‘pre-scientific worldview’, but also of almost all ancient and modern peoples outside the Jewish and Christian traditions. (10)

It also contains detailed and rigorous argumentation. Wright takes particular aim at those who hold that the earlies Christians held to some kind of “spiritual resurrection,” that the appearances of Jesus to his followers were visionary (akin to Paul on the Damascus Road), and the idea of a bodily resurrection developed later. In arguing for the bodily resurrection Wright begins by looking at Old Testament and Second Temple Jewish materials as well as pagan materials on death and the afterlife. He establishes that resurrection refers to something bodily. Further, the Jewish material reveals that real expectation for a bodily resurrection existed among the Jews of Jesus’s day. Wright then surveys New Testament writings from Paul to the Gospels. He argues that the New Testament authors reveal that the earliest Christians believed that Jesus rose bodily from the dead. He notes that this belief required both an empty tomb and appearances. If the tomb was empty, but Jesus did not appear in his body, resurrection would not be the resulting belief. Likewise, if there were appearances but the tomb still contained the dead body, resurrection would not have been affirmed. Wright therefore concludes: “It is therefore historically highly probable that Jesus’ tomb was indeed empty on the third day after his execution, and that the disciples did indeed encounter him giving every appearance of being well and truly alive” (687). He then makes a case for these being both necessary and sufficient reasons for finding a bodily resurrection “highly probable.”

The argument is compelling, but a few flies in the ointment should be noted. First, I found Wright overly skeptical of finding bodily resurrection in the early Old Testament texts. Second, though Wright often challenged critical orthodoxy, there were places where his approach was itself too critical. Third, I agree with Van Til that Christian apologists ought not simply argue from evidence that the Christian religion is probable. In other words, I would start with the affirmation of the resurrection because it is revealed and mount the apologetic from that ground. Many of the arguments that Wright uses would be the same, but the standpoint of the apologist would be different.

Review of Wellum and Gentry’s Kingdom Through Covenant

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Gentry, Peter J. and Stephen J. Wellum. Kingdom through Covenant: A Biblical-Theological Understanding of the Covenants. Crossway: 2012.

[Update 4/21/16: A friend passed this post along to one of the authors who responded to me, pointing out areas in which he thought the review was not entirely accurate. I appreciate his work in accurately portraying other theological views, so I am updating this review in light of his comments.]

Kingdom-Through-Covenant-Gentry-Wellum-In this volume Wellum and Gentry embark on the ambitious project of laying out a third way between covenant theology and dispensationalism. They label their position New Covenant Theology or Progressive Covenantalism (others who hold a similar position are Tom Wells, Fred Zaspel, John Reisinger, Thomas Schreiner, and Jason Meyer). [Update 4/21/16: The authors wish to distinguish PC from NCT. The two share some similarities, but they do not wish them to be equated. Since Schreiner and Meyer both contribute to the new book on Progressive Covenantalism, it seems safe to identify them with PC] Wellum and Gentry’s contribution is the arguement that covenant forms the “backbone” of Scripture’s storyline and that understanding how the covenants relate is key to right biblical and systematic theology. Of course many dispensationalists and covenant theologians could affirm these two points. The differences lie in how the covenants are seen to function and fit together.

Part One: Prolegomena

Covenants and Systems

Before outlining their view Wellum first outlines the positions of dispensationalism and covenant theology. Too often non-dispensationalist surveys of dispensationalists are incomplete and thus unfair. The worst surveys will take the Scofield Reference Bible as their main source without recognizing the development that his taken place since Scofield’s time or the variety of opinion within dispensational thought. Wellum does not fall into this error. His survey is one of the best surveys of dispensationalism by a non-dispensationalists that I’ve read (Vern Poythress’s work, Understanding Dispensationalists, would be the other good survey).

Interestingly, the survey of covenant theology was not quite as well done. Wellum did pick up on divergences between some covenant theologians about how the Mosaic Covenant relates to the covenant of works. However, he did not deal with the views of earlier Baptist covenant theologians. This is a significant oversight since at one point Wellum suggests the labeling his own position “Baptist theology” (25, n. 7) [Update 4/21/16: The author noted that this footnote was a bit of joke] and since he repeatedly argues that one of the major differences between progressive covenantalism and covenant theology is paedobaptism versus credobaptism.

I was also less than impressed with the parallels Wellum tried to draw between dispensationalism and covenant theology. He contends at the end of chapter 2 that covenant theologians adhere to a genealogical principle rooted in the Abrahamic covenant which leads them to assume that the infants of believers are part of the church. He then concludes, “Ironically, this is a similar hermeneutical argument that dispensational theology makes, yet in different areas. Dispensational thought makes it in regard to the land promise while covenant theology makes it in regard to the genealogical principle, both of which are tied to the Abrahamic covenant!” (76). [Update 4/21/16: I should add that the similarity argued here for between CT and DT is that neither allow circumcsion/land to be viewed as typological; it is argued that if circumcision/land is traced throughthe biblical covenants it becomes clear that they must be typological.] Though the claim of this parallel is repeatedly made, I’m not convinced the parallel exists. Covenant theology makes its case for infant baptism by plugging the Abrahamic covenant into an overarching covenant of grace, thereby failing to recognize the covenant shift that the new covenant brings about. Dispensational theology, on the other hand, is simply asserting that the promises of the Abrahamic covenant will be fulfilled as they were given. The new covenant does not abrogate these promises; indeed, it actually repeats them. The divergences between progressive covenantalism and dispensationalism actually lies in hermeneutics, to which Wellum turns in chapter 3.

Hermeneutics

In chapter 3 Wellum lays out the hermeneutical principles that underlie the system that he and Gentry are proposing. Many of these are to be heartily endorsed. Wellum begins by defending self-attesting canon and its claims to inerrancy, concluding from this that the diversity of Scripture does not undermine “an overall unity and coherence between the testaments.” Amen.

Second, Wellum affirms that we discern God’s intent in Scripture through the human authors of Scripture. He affirms that this leads to a canonical reading of Scripture that is open to a certain kind of sensus plenior. He rejects an approach to sensus plenior that asserts the “fuller sense” “cannot be discovered by grammatical-historical exegesis,” noting that that this leads to “a subjective reading of the text without hermeneutical controls.” Instead, he argues, “We discover God’s intent through the human authors of Scripture at the canonical level. God says more than the individual authors may have known, yet he does not contravene what the authors wrote and intended” (85, n. 11). I would assent to this, though I’m going to argue that Wellum and Gentry do not consistently adhere to this principle.

Third, Wellum says that Scripture is the inspired interpretation of God’s redemptive acts, meaning that the pattern “preparatory word, then the divine act, followed by the interpretive word” (88) is typical in Scripture revelation. The corollary to this is that revelation is progressive, which, in turn, means that theologians need to note where texts fall in redemptive history as they systematize.

These three principles lead Wellum to conclude that interpreters deal with three horizons: the (1) text in an (2) epochal context (cf. Rom. 5:12-21; Acts 7:1-53) and a (3) canonical context. Again, I would register no disagreement with Wellum here. However, the discussion of canonical context balloons into a discussion of typology, and here some differences emerge.

There is much to agree with in Wellum’s treatment of types (e.g., the exegetical rooting of types). But when he asserts that types always escalate when moving from the OT to the NT or that types are what establish the discontinuity between OT and NT, I have questions. [Update 4/21/16: Their argument is that escalation occurs because the types are fulfilled in Christ, who is greater than any of the anti-types.]

Do types-antitypes establish discontinuity between the testaments or does a change in covenant administration bring about the discontinuties. I would argue for the latter. True, there were typological aspects to earlier covenantal administrations (e.g., the sacrificial system), but the reason for the discontinuity is fundamentally due to the change in covenant. [Update 4/21/16: It is the change of covenants because the typology develops through the covenants.]

I also question the claim that types always escalate. It seems that included in this statement is the assumption that escalation involves displacement. Thus Wellum concludes that the specific promise of a land to the nation of Israel is displaced because the land of Israel is a type with the antitype being the new creation. I would certainly agree that with sometimes escalation involves displacement. The sacrificial system was typological of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross, and the antitype displaced the type. But what of the Davidic kingship? Is that typical? If so, the escalation from type to antitype did not displace the Davidic kingship, for the Messiah reigns as the Davidic king. Perhaps it would be better to say that earlier Davidic kings were typical of the climatic Davidic King. The earlier kings are displaced, in a sense, but the David kingship is not.

So what of the land? One could say that the land is typical of the new creation, but is not the land part of the renovated earth? If so, it is hard to see how the antitype can displace the type (expansion, yes; elevation, yes; displacement no). Perhaps it would be better to speak of the land as conquered by Joshua or as reigned by Solomon as typical of the new creation. Again, just as historical kings are displaced by the final king, so the land in a historical period is displaced by the climatic historical period, but this is different from claiming that the promises regarding the land are displaced.

This discussion points to an odd formulation in this book. Wellum speaks of the land promise being typical. To claim that a promise is a type is an interesting claim, and one that is not defended. It also leads to complications. It puts Wellum in the odd position of saying the promise is a type for something other than what was promised such that the promise itself will never be fulfilled. What is more, this would seem to contravene the earlier affirmation that the fuller sense of Scripture “does not contravene what the authors wrote and intended,” though God may say “more than the individual authors may have known.” I would take that statement to mean that God can mean more than he promised to Abraham, but he can’t mean other. In other words, I have no argument with seeing the “Eden . . . presented as the archetype, which the ‘land’ later looks back to and forward to in anticipation of the recovery of the new creation” (124). To say the land promise expands to encompass the new creation is something that I think is at least hinted at in its original statements in Genesis. What I fail to see is how this expansion or escalation cancels out part of the promise.

Part Two: Exposition

Part two of Kingdom through Covenant is written by Peter Gentry. It is supposed to provide the exegetical basis for the theological conclusions. Gentry rarely, if ever, makes clear the connection between his exegesis and the broader project of the book. Gentry also seems given to rabbit trails. At points it seems that Gentry had a collection of exegetical studies that he wanted to share, and since some connection between those studies and the thesis of the book could be made, this was his opportunity to share them. Thus, as a reading strategy, I would recommend reading parts one and three first. Come back to part two in order to see how some of the claims in these other parts are sustained (or not) exegetically.

None of this is to deny that this section presents a great deal of helpful exegesis. Nonetheless, I do think that this section suffers from two methodological problems. First, Gentry’s method places too much weight on ANE background material (a point also noted by Brack and Oliphiint in their review of Kingdom through Covenant). In terms of methodology, I would argue that background material should play a similar role as the that given by the magisterial Reformers to tradition. The Reformers highly valued tradition but it served interpretation of Scripture rather than determined it. I would like to see interpreters value tradition, the history of interpretation (something that often seems lacking in those who emphasize ANE or Second Temple background), and background materials while keeping both servants of the text rather than masters. Second, as almost every other reviewer has noted, the exegetical section suffers from lack of interaction with the New Testament. A New Testament exegetical section is vital for the argument of this book. For Wellum and Gentry’s view of typology to be accepted, they need to demonstrate that the New Testament operates with their view. Without this argumentation, their approach to typology is asserted, not demonstrated. Though Gentry is not a New Testament scholar his section could without doubt have been tightened up to make room for the contribution of a New Testament scholar such as Thomas Schreiner. I hope this will happen if there is a second edition.

Two substantive issues should also be raised. First, while I agree with the argument for a creation covenant, and while I think the creation covenant and the Noahic covenant are related, I remain unconvinced that the Noahic covenant is simply a confirmation of the creation covenant. As I look at these covenants, the parties are different, the promises are different, the prohibitions are different, the sanctions are different, and the nature of the covenants are different. Though I think Gentry made the case that karat berit typically means to initiate a covenant and heqim berit typically means to confirm a covenant, it does seem to me that there are occasional exceptions (Gen. 6:18; Ex. 6:4; Eze.16:59-62). However, despite the great stress that Gentry placed on this point, I don’t see it as essential to their case. More significant, however, is their rejection of distinctions between unconditional and conditional covenants (or between royal grant and suzerainty covenants).  They argue that all the covenants demand obedience of the partners. I agree that all of the covenants have expectations placed on those within the covenant. The Noahic covenant, for instance, has expectations that God places on all mankind. But human violations of those expectations, even on a large scale, will never result in a second global flood. That would violate the nature of the covenant. On the other hand, Israel was told that their violation of the conditions of the Mosaic covenant would result in certain penalties. I think Gentry and Wellum have over-compensated on this point.

Part Three: Theological Integration

In part three Wellum deals with the biblical and systematic theological implications of their proposed system.

Biblical Theology

Chapter sixteen focuses on biblical theology. As one might expect from a book titled Kingdom through Covenant, kingdom and covenant are the two foci of this chapter. I agree with Wellum and Gentry that “kingdom through covenant” captures a central biblical motif, but I was disappointed with how these motifs were fleshed out.

Kingdom

Wellum states his understanding of the kingdom of God in five points. (1) As Creator God providentially rules over all creation. (2) After the Fall a distinction is made between God’s providential reign over all things and “his saving reign in the context of a rebellious creation to make all things right” (593). (3) The kingdom could have come through the covenants if those in the covenants lived according to them; their failure means that the kingdom will come through covenant promises. (4) The Davidic Messiah is the one who will inaugurate the new covenant, which will fulfill all of the other covenants. (5) In the New Testament, “the ‘kingdom of God’ refers primarily to God’s kingly and sovereign rule,’ especially as it relates to salvation. It does not primarily refer to a “geographical location” (595-96). This understanding leads to the following conclusions. Because of the way in which Christ fulfilled the Old Testament, “many of the themes that were basic to the Old Testament have now been transposed and transformed” (598). Thus the kingdom of God is no longer rule over a people in a land but is the rule of God in the transformation of a people.

Wellum’s error comes at the starting point of his definition of the kingdom of God. If one starts with the assumption that the kingdom is God’s sovereign rule over creation, then one is left with the difficult question of how the kingdom comes with the Messiah. God has always been sovereign over the creation; the advent of the Messiah does not alter that reality. Wellum addresses this problem by introducing the idea of a saving reign alongside the sovereign reign of God.

But in doing biblical theology, the theologian should endeavor to see how Scripture itself develops a motif and examine that categories that Scripture uses. The Bible itself begins its treatment of the kingdom theme in Genesis 1:26-28. The kingdom announced there is the rule of man over creation under God’s sovereign reign. Thus the kingdom of God announced in the Gospels does not refer to the sovereign, providential reign of God over all things, as that has never been altered. Rather, it refers to the reign of God as mediated though man, his vice-regent. That reign was damaged by the Fall, but it is restored in the Messiah, who reigns as the last Adam.

It is this kingdom, rather than God’s providential reign, that is preserved and promised by the covenants. The covenants preserve the realm of this kingdom (Noahic), promise the coming Seed who will reign (Abrahamic, Davidic), and provide for a people who is to model what a reign under God in a land is to look like (Abrahamic, Mosaic). All of these covenants climax in the inauguration of the New Covenant by the Messiah.

On this understanding, the kingdom as inaugurated by the Messiah does have an emphasis on salvation and transformation, as Wellum rightly notes. The Messiah’s goal is to reverse the Fall by creating a people who will rule the earth under God’s greater rule (Dan. 7:27; Rev.  22:5), and for this people to fulfill that goal they must be saved and transformed. Those who are not will be judged by the king when he returns and fully establishes his reign on earth.

But this conception of the kingdom does not allow the “a theocratic state in which God rules by his human vassal in the Davidic dynasty” and “the immediate transforming reign of God” to be pitted against each other. Such a dichotomy fails to reckon with the reality that one of the reasons for the incarnation was for the Messiah to fulfill Genesis 1:26-28 by reigning as a man. Further, it wrongly dismisses the importance of the realm: a kingdom centered on Jerusalem that encompasses the entire creation (Ps. 72:8). The marvelous thing about God’s plan is that Jesus reigns as both human and as Yahweh. Part of the glory of God’s plan is the way these two reigns combine in Christ. Therefore, it diminishes the glory that God intended to minimize one aspect of the reign of Christ and to highlight only one aspect.

Covenants

Wellum then turns to covenants after his treatment of kingdom. He argues that instead of speaking of a unitary “covenant of grace” or of dispensations, one should give attention to the development of God’s plan in the multiple biblical covenants. I’d agree with this.  But there are problems in some the ways this idea is developed.

Wellum says that the “new covenant supersedes all the previous covenants in redemptive-history” (604). From this he concludes that circumcision ceases and that the land promise is changed. But what does it mean to say that the New Covenant supersedes all of the previous covenants? Does it mean that the Noahic covenant is no longer still in effect? I would find that hard to square with Genesis 8:21-22. The New Covenant is specifically contrasted with the Mosaic covenant; does it replace the Abrahamic and the Davidic in the same way? Finally, whatever supersede means, it cannot mean that the promises of the earlier covenants fail to come to pass. Surely the promises of the Davidic covenant are still in effect. Circumcision, a rite signifying the covenant, is surely different from the promise  of the land.

The chapter closes with a summary of the significance of each of the biblical covenants. This is a good summary apart from disagreement on a few details. For instnace, the land promise is said to be a type. Again, how is a promise a type? Or, “we are no longer under the previous covenants in exactly the same way” as God’s people prior to Christ. This raises the obvious question: in what ways are we and aren’t we under covenants like the Noahic covenant?

Systematic Theology

In chapter seventeen Wellum turns to the implications their proposal has for systematic theology. There is a great deal to appreciate in this chapter. I especially agree with his conclusions regarding the subjects of baptism. His approach to the issue of baptism was one that I came to in seminary, and Wellum has confirmed and strengthened my thinking on this matter.

Particular Atonement

Another area in which Wellum provided enlightenment was his argument for particular atonement based on the intercession of Christ. This argument had previously seemed fairly weak to me, but Wellum’s presentation enabled me to feel its force.

Nonetheless, I think there are several problems with it. Wellum’s argument is twofold: “(1) Christ’s work as our great high priest is a unified work; (2) Christ’s work as the mediator of the new covenant entails a particular and not a general representation” (672). The first point is really just another aspect of the debate over whether accomplished and applied are necessarily coextensive in scope or not. The second point, however, seems to be more significant.

As Wellum unpacks this second point he argues that the priests in the Old Testament mediated only for the covenant people; Christ also mediates only for people in the new covenant. Since only the regenerated (and thus only the elect) are part of the new covenant, Christ only mediates (in both his cross-work and heavenly intercession) for the elect. On the face of it, this seems to be a strong argument. However, Wellum does not seem to reckon with the fact that the reason sacrifices were only made for those already in the old covenant was due to the genealogical principle. But, as he has argued forcefully in this volume, the new covenant does not operate on the geneological principle.

Unlike the Israelites, who were in the Mosaic covenant before the Mosaic sacrifices were offered, no one was in the new covenant when Christ made his sacrifice. Since people enter the new covenant differently than the Mosaic covenant, the sacrifice cannot be made only for those in the covenant lest it be made for no one. Wellum does not seem to recognize this difficulty, for he grants that Christ intercedes for the elect both before and after they believe (674-76). He does not seem to recognize that this undermines the argument that Christ’s priestly work is only done for those in the New Covenant. He could respond that God knows who will be in the New Covenant, but intercession basd on foreknowledge is fundamentally different from intercession tied to who is in the covenant.  If Wellum’s argument concerning baptism holds, as I think it does, then his argument regarding particular redemption does not.

Wellum does anticipate and respond to some other potential objections. He notes that a proponent of general atonement could argue that the Old Testament priest represented only those in the Mosaic Covenant but that Christ, due to the incarnation, represented the whole human race (see Heb. 2:9). To this Wellum replies that Hebrews 2 is clear that Christ only mediates for and brings to glory Abraham’s seed.

This is not a compelling argument, for it assumes what it must prove. Hebrews 2:9 speaks of the provision of salvation in the death of Christ for everyone, and Hebrews 2:17 speaks of the provision of propitiation for “the people” generally. Verse 16 speaks of the application more specifically to the seed of Abraham. Wellum’s argument only works if the provision is only made for those to whom it is applied―which is the point under debate. Further, Wellum never actually explains the meaning of “tastes death for everyone.”

The second general atonement argument to which Wellum responds sees the typology of the Old Testament priestly ministry differently from Wellum. It notes that the Old Testament priests offered sacrifices for a mixed group of believers and unbelievers. What was true of the type is true of the antitype. Wellum has three responses. First, he reiterates that the Old Testament priests only represented those within their covenant. Second, the work of the Old Testament priests was typological and antitypes are always more particular than types. Third, the new covenant is more effective than the old covenant. I find Wellum’s first two counter-arguments to be weak. There is agreement about the first point; there is disagreement about its significance (see above). So reiterating the point doesn’t really establish the conclusion.  The second point is an assertion that Wellum fails to establish. In fact, wouldn’t he say that the land promises become less particular, moving from a type which is a particular plot of real estate to an antitype which is the entire new creation? The third argument is stronger. In response, though, one could affirm that Christ’s sacrifice was more effective than Levitical sacrifices and still hold that he made sacrifice for both believers and unbelievers. Christ’s sacrifice is effective in that it saves those who believe whereas the blood of bullas and goats could never save.

Eschatology and the Land

Wellum concludes the book by turning to eschatologym which brings him back to the issue of the land.

First he reiterates his rejection of the unconditional/conditional categorization of the covenants, affirming both that disobedient Israel forfeited their right to the land and that Jesus will bring the land promise to fulfillment in the new creation. In particular, he argues that dispensationalists err in thinking that the land refers to “a specific piece of real estate with well-defined geographical boundaries” rather than recognizing that it is typological of the entire creation (706).

Second, he says the Abrahamic covenant itself points to the typological nature of the land promise by promising universal blessings, which indicates that the promise cannot be tied to a particular territory. This is confirmed by the fact that the Bible does not give “consistent and precise” borders for the land (708).

Third, when the Abrahamic covenant is understood in the context of the covenant of creation, then it becomes clear that land is a type of the new creation.

Fourth, the fulfillments of the land promise by Joshua and Solomon are incomplete, and the prophets tie their land prophecies to the coming of the new creation, again indicating that the land is a type of the new creation.

Fifth, Jesus fulfills all the covenants by bringing in the new creation. He thus fulfills the land promise in the new creation.

I would agree with Wellum that the land promise points ahead to the new creation. In fact, I think I can make the case stronger by pointing out that the land, seed, blessing aspects of the Abrahamic promises connect to the blessing, seed, dominion promises in the Adamic covenant. Also, some of the land promise passages in Genesis point to a broadening of the land promise to the entire earth. For instance, Jacob is promised, “a nation and a company of nations shall come from you” (35:11) Land is likely implied in this promise. Gentry argues that goyim does not properly apply to the twelve tribes since they were not “politically and socially structured entities with government” (292-93). Nor does the divided kingdom of two nations constitute a “company of nations.” If Gentry is correct, it would be the universal blessing aspect of the promise to Abraham that would be picked up here. It would also be an early instance of implied extension of the land promise. As the Old Testament continues, the extension of the land promise is made more explicit (Psalm 72:8). But if the Old Testament can promise at the same time both particular land promises as well as point to the extension of the promise to the entire creation, why cannot the fulfillment inlcude both the particular and the general? The is no contradiction in Israel possessing a particular land in the new creation and the other nations all enjoying the restored new creation.

The other arguments, such as the lack of “consistent and precise” borders are fairly weak. When the passages are examined, it seems that these inconsistencies are more imagined than actual. If this were an issue of inerrancy, I’m sure Wellum would have little trouble in harmonizing the passages.

Conclusion

While this review has been largely critical, there is much to appreciate in Kingdom through Covenant. I think the title expresses in a pithy way one of the central themes of Scripture. The importance given to the biblical covenants, the defense of a creation covenant, the critique of covenant theology’s single covenant of grace under two administrations, and the defense of believer’s baptism on the basis of a proper understanding of the new covenant are all teachings with which I heartily agree. Despite the differences, I’m looking forward with anticipation to Wellum’s forthcoming contribution on Christology in the Foundations of Evangelical Theology series as well as to other writing that he and Gentry produce.

Justo González: Christian History from the Fathers to the Reformation

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González, Justo. The Story of Christianity. Volume 1. Revised edition. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.

González’s history of Christianity is an excellent survey of church history. His style is engaging, the chapters and chapter sections are brief, and the is largely accurate. González is not an evangelical, so the reader will want to be discerning. For instance, I found him too open to the idea that there was not settled orthodoxy in the earliest history of the church. But in general I found his telling of the Christian story to be fair and accurate. Volume one ends just prior to the Reformation.

Thoughts on Luther’s Works, Vol. 31

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Grimm, Harold J., ed. Career of the Reformer IMartin_Luther2C_1529. Luther’s Works, Volume 31, ed. Helmut T. Lehmann. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1957.

This volume of Luther’s works covers his early writings at the time that he was breaking from Rome. It includes: “Disputation against Scholastic Theology,” Ninety-Five Theses,” Heidelberg Disputation,” “Preface to the Complete Edition of a German Theology,” Explanations of the Ninety-Five Theses,” “Proceedings at Augsburg,” “Two Kinds of Righteousness,” “The Leipzig Debate,” “The Freedom of a Christian,” and “Why the Books of the Pope and His Disciples Were Burned.”

“The Ninety-Five Theses” is, of course, a must read for its historical significance. I also especially benefited from the “Heidelberg Disputation,” “Two Kinds of Righteousness,” and “The Freedom of a Christian.” In these works Luther is abundantly clear why good works are completely unable to save a person while at the same time defending the importance of good works for the Christian. These works also provide a window into the kinds of abuses within the Roman Catholic church that spurred Luther to press for reformation. Finally, reading these works first hand was also a helpful reminder about Roman Catholic teaching at this time. For instance, Luther’s attack on the authority of the pope was not an innovation. He’s drawing on medieval thinkers who thought the pope should be subject to counsels, for instance. Some of the positions that later became hardened into a Roman Catholic position and a Protestant position were still open questions as Luther was raising them.

Here are some samples from this volume:

Therefore, since the spirit of Christ dwells within Christians, by means of which brothers become co-heirs, one body, and citizens of Christ, how is it possible for us not to be participants in all the benefits of Christ? Christ himself has all that belongs to him from the same Spirit. So it happens through the inestimable riches of the mercies of God the Father, that a Christian can be glorified with Christ and can with confidence claim all things in Christ. Righteousness, strength, patience, humility, even all the merits of Christ are his through the unity of the Spirit by faith in him. All his sins are no longer his; but through that same unity with Christ everything is swallowed up in him. And this is the confidence that Christians have and our real joy of conscience, that by means of faith our sins become no longer ours but Christ’s upon whom God placed the sins of all of us. He took upon himself our sins [Cf. Isa. 53:12]. Christ himself is “the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” [John 1:29]. All the righteousness of Christ becomes ours. He places his hand upon us and all is well with us [Cf. Mark 5:23]. He spreads his cloak and covers us [Cf. Ruth 3:9], blessed Savior throughout all ages, Amen.

LW 31:190

Against the doctrine of supererogation (and thus against a treasury of the saints’ merits):

Second, no works of the saints are left unrewarded, for, according to everybody, God rewards a man more than he deserves. As St. Paul says, “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be” [Rom. 8:18].

Third, no saint has adequately fulfilled God’s commandments in this life. Consequently the saints have done absolutely nothing which is superabundant. Therefore they have left nothing to be allocated through indulgences. I believe that the inference is clear enough. But I shall prove the major premise so that there is no doubt about it, but that it must be believed in such a way that the opposite view would be considered heretical.

I prove this argument first by that saying of Christ, “When you have done all that is commanded, say ‘We are unworthy servants’ ” [Luke 17:10]. But the term “unworthy servant” is understood to refer to one who has done less and not more than he should. . . . I prove this argument secondly by that passage in Matt. 25[:9] which says that the wise maidens had no desire to share their oil for fear that there would not be enough also for themselves. Third, Paul says, I Cor. 3[:8], “Each shall receive his wages according to his labor.” He does not say, “according to another’s labor.”

Fourth, I adduce Galatians 6, “Everyone must answer for himself” [Cf. Gal. 6:4–5], as well as the saying, “So that each one may receive … according as he has done in the body” [II Cor. 5:10]. Fifth, every saint is obligated to love God as much as he can, indeed more than he can, but no one has or can do that. Sixth, the saints, in their most perfect work, that is, through death, martyrdom, and suffering, do no more than is required. Indeed they do what is required and scarcely that. Therefore they have done much less than they should in other works. Seventh, although I have produced so many reasons, they, on the other hand, to support their position, have not produced one, but only a recital of the circumstances, speaking without proof from the Scriptures, the teachers of the church, and sound reasons. For that reason we can, indeed we must, completely ignore their opinion.

LW 31:212-13.

Should you ask how it happens that faith alone justifies and offers us such a treasure of great benefits without works in view of the fact that so many works, ceremonies, and laws are prescribed in the Scriptures, I answer: First of all, remember what has been said, namely, that faith alone, without works, justifies, frees, and saves; we shall make this clearer later on. Here we must point out that the entire Scripture of God is divided into two parts: commandments and promises. Although the commandments teach things that are good, the things taught are not done as soon as they are taught, for the commandments show us what we ought to do but do not give us the power to do it. They are intended to teach man to know himself, that through them he may recognize his inability to do good and may despair of his own ability. That is why they are called the Old Testament and constitute the Old Testament. For example, the commandment, “You shall not covet” [Exod. 20:17], is a command which proves us all to be sinners, for no one can avoid coveting no matter how much he may struggle against it. Therefore, in order not to covet and to fulfil the commandment, a man is compelled to despair of himself, to seek the help which he does not find in himself elsewhere and from someone else, as stated in Hosea [13:9]: “Destruction is your own, O Israel: your help is only in me.” As we fare with respect to one commandment, so we fare with all, for it is equally impossible for us to keep any one of them.

LW 31:348

The Pastor as Public Theologian

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Vanhoozer, Kevin J. and Owen Strachan. The Pastor as Public Theologian: Reclaiming a Lost Vision. Grand Rapids: Baker, 2015.

pastorThere are certain books whose effect largely depends on the time in life when you read them. For instance, I’d say that Frank Thielman’s Paul and the Law: A Contextual Approach was one of the most significant books that I read while in seminary. It was while reading that book that I understood for the first time the significance of the biblical covenants. I know that I had read about the covenants before, but their role in Scripture and my relation to them clicked for the first time while reading Thielman. That book may not have been as significant to my thinking had I already developed my thinking on the covenants and on the Mosaic Law. I have the sense that Vanhoozer and Strachan’s could have a similar effect on a seminarian or pastor—it could reshape the way they think about ministry. Others will already share their vision, making the book less significant to them.

Vanhoozer and Stachan’s basic message is that pastors need to reclaim their vision of the pastorate from secular sources and seminaries need to be reshaped so that pastors rightly see their mission to be that of theologians. The pastor theologian is not an academic. Rather, he is a public theologian in the sense that he helps God’s people live out God’s Word in all of life. There are a number of ways that a pastor achieves this goal (e.g., pastoral visitation, counseling), but the sermon ought to be the central means.

I’m in agreement with the central message of the book, but some things gave me pause.  I remain unconvinced that Rowan Williams, for instance, is really the most faithful model to set before readers. I also remain skeptical that the Christological offices of prophet, priest, and king are a model for pastoral ministry.

Review of Greg Forster’s Book on Regaining Christian Cultural Influence

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Forster, Greg. Joy for the World: How Christianity Lost Its Cultural Influence and Can Begin Rebuilding It. Wheaton: Crossway, 2014.

Several of Greg Forster’s previous books, Starting with Locke and The Contested Public Square, have been among the best I’ve read on the topic of government and Christianity’s relation to government. In my opinion Joy for the World does not rise to the level of The Contested Public Square , but it is still well worth reading. It is targeted to a broader audience, but it is seeking to answer the “where do we go from here?” question that remained unanswered by The Contested Public Square.

Forster thinks that if Christians are going to rebuild their influence in American society, they need to have an understanding of Christianity’s role in America and of the nature of society. These two issues are the focus of part one of Joy for the World. Forster believes that Christians tell themselves faulty stories about their past influence. These faulty stories have led to faulty strategies, which have led to the loss of Christian influence.

Forster summarizes three faulty stories. There is the “Christian founding” story. In this story, the United States was founded as “a new model of society more in line with Christian teaching than any before.” Sadly, the Christian foundations of the nation were undermined in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries through unbelieving science and philosophy. As a result secularism threatens Christian America. The second story is the “secular founding” story, which places anti-Christian Enlightenment ideals at the center of the American founding and Christianity at the margins. According to this view ideas opposed to Christianity were “dressed up in a cloak of theological language” to gain the support of American Christians. Now, however, opposition to Christianity no longer needs to be cloaked. This is good because Christians are no longer deceived by American civil religion, but it is bad because of increased hostility to Christianity. The third story is the “it doesn’t matter” story. In this account, the role of the church is evangelism. The church is not going to try to influence the culture; rather, the church will seek to harness the culture to spread the gospel.

Forster raises concerns about all three of these stories. He is concerned that the “it doesn’t matter” approach will lead the church to conform to the culture  in the false hope that cultural conformity will increase evangelistic opportunity. He thinks the other two stories both get somethings right: the reality that both Christian and Enlightenment ideas influenced the American founding. But both stories also get some things quite wrong. The “Christian founding” story does not fully account for the rationalism of the leading founders. The “secular founding” story does not account for the Christian influence on the founder’s view of man as both dignified and fallen. Forster argues that this is a Christian idea that preserved the United States from the disasters experienced by political systems built only on Enlightenment principles. Forster’s takeaway: “The American social order was never either clearly pro-Christian or clearly anti-Christian. Ross Douthat has described America as a civilization driven not by Christian orthodoxy nor by heresy, but by a perpetual social tension between the two.” Forster holds that the reason for this tension lies in the departure of Americans from a state church system to one which allows for freedom of religion. Forster praises freedom of religion, but he also notes some complications that arise. Such a system “does not enforce religion, but it requires religion” so that the society can cohere through shared moral foundations.

These shared moral foundations were provided by a general Protestant consensus throughout the nineteenth century, but by the 1920s it was clear that, from the infection of  modernism within the churches, that “Protestant consensus” no longer existed because no consensus existed among Protestant churches any longer. As the unraveling of the nation’s moral consensus became apparent, evangelicals attempted to stem the tide. Forster holds that evangelicals did much good in slowing, or in some cases halting, “the rising tide of moral disorder.” However, some of the strategies employed, though enjoying short-term success, have harmed longer-term efforts. Forster ties the faulty strategies to the faulty stories of American history. Those who believed the first story tried to gain for evangelicalism the place of Protestant moral consensus around which the nation should cohere. Forster notes, “Evangelicalism could rightly claim to be the doctrinal heir of the historic Protestant churches, but it had no standing to claim their cultural or historical place.” In trying to reclaim that place, they bred resentment among Americans who thought that evangelicals were attempting to impose an illegitimate conquest on the nation. Christians who believed the second story, Forster says, withdrew culturally. Forster critiques this approach, noting that if Christianity has no place in the culture evangelism becomes more difficult because people end up thinking in categories quite outside those necessary for understanding the Christian message. Forster fears that the failures of these two approaches have led to a rise in a “cultural accommodation” approach for many evangelical churches. Forster wants to maintain Christian distinctiveness, robust evangelism, and cultural influence. On this latter point, he says, “We can’t force a religious society upon our neighbors; we must persuade them to want a religious society. People who don’t share our beliefs and our churches must nonetheless have their own intrinsic reasons to view our beliefs and churches as socially beneficial.”

Forster then turns to the nature of society. He finds in the creation of Adam and Eve the twin truths of “the intrinsic dignity of every individual and the social nature of humanity.” The Bible thus establishes the reality that humans live in society. It does not, however, prescribe particular societal forms.  In fact, Forster says, God “wants not just people from every tongue, tribe, and nation, but people of every tongue, tribe, and nation.” Christians can and should live within their cultures as people of those cultures. And yet, because of the Fall and its effects on all cultures, the Christian cannot simply conform to any culture. One area of American culture that Forster indicates needs to be challenged is “individualism.” He praises individualism over against collectivism, but he also notes that the idolization of the “sovereign self” lies at the bottom defenses of abortion, divorce, modern sexuality, and even distortions of the work ethic. Forster observes, “One of the great dangers of our time is the illusion that moral obligations are somehow weaker if they’re not chosen. . . . The whole point about obligations is that you have to do things that aren’t intrinsically attractive to you. You have to discipline yourself for actions that cut against your desires.” Forster’s bottom line is that Christians influence society precisely by living as people in society and allowing a Christian view of society leaven whatever sphere of influence they have.

The next two parts of the book examine how the church can and should influence the culture. Part two looks at the role of the institutional church and part three looks at the role of the church as an organism. Forster makes the institution/organism distinction to protect the mission and distinctiveness of the church as institution while still promoting the involvement of Christians as Christians in society. Forster models his discussion of the institutional church on the “threefold office of Christ—Prophet, Priest, and King.” He argues that each of these three offices represent an emphasis that the church needs. The office of the prophet relates to “doctrine,” the office of priest to “devotion,” and the office of king to “stewardship.” In the chapter on doctrine, Forster argues that belief in the Bible’s inerrancy and authority is absolutely foundational. On this foundation preaching that teaches in detail what the text of Scripture actually says is absolutely necessary. Expositional preaching is not enough however, for the pastor must show the congregation how the text of Scripture applies to their daily lives. In his chapter on devotion Forster makes the case that doctrine is not enough. The goal of Christianity is not to produce people who think rightly and act morally. The goal of Christianity is to liberate people from sin so that they become transformed worshippers of God. This kind of community should stand out as a beacon in the world. In the chapter on stewardship Forster argues that the Christian doctrine of sanctification means that the transformation in the heart must work out in the transformation of the life. The institutional church plays an important role in discipling the people of God. Forster argues that this discipleship ought not focus only on the life of the individual as individual. Since we live in community and work in various vocations, discipleship should extend to these areas as well.

In the final part of the book, Forster looks at the organic church: Christian life in the civilizational spheres. Forster begins with some insightful thoughts about social structures. He notes, in the first place, that these structures are not infinitely malleable. In order to work they must be rooted in our natures and in the way God designed the world to work. On the other hand social structures are not static. Humans can change, improve, or disrupt them. With this foundation in place Forster looks at the following topics: “Sex and Family,” “Work and the Economy,” and “Citizenship and Community.”

Forster begins with sex and family because of their importance: “The most basic building blocks of society—above all, family, but much else as well—arise from our sexual desires. Because our sexual desires affect us so profoundly, their disorderliness is all the more destructive. . . . So it makes sense that sex is a key issue for public witness. If Christianity doesn’t have something to say about sex and family in contemporary America, Christianity doesn’t really have much to say about contemporary America, period.” Forster’s main point is that sexual desires are not merely bodily needs. Spiritual realities underlie these desires, and the sins regarding sexuality are pointers to deeper spiritual problems. Positively, “marriage is a structure designed to recognize that sex creates [a permanent metaphysical] union and to manage its consequences.” This is why “marriage breaks down when we treat it merely as a vehicle for romantic love, or even childrearing.” Forster then moves on for a probing discussion of the importance of the family to the health of a society.

In his chapter on work and the economy Forster argues that work is dignified when it enables people to “make the world a better place.” When we recognize that our work is about relationships with other people, then we can work to serve others. This means that there are certain kinds of work that we might not think of as unchristian, but which in reality are. For instance: “I once heard an ethics professor challenge the little vending machines that stores and restaurants keep in front, selling worthless trinkets for fifty cents or a dollar apiece. The trinkets won’t entertain the kids who buy them for long; the machines are really just there to prompt kids to demand their parents buy them something. In effect, the machines are there to create discord in families so the owners of the vending machines can blackmail parents.” On the other hand, Forster argues that there are many kinds of work that are looked down upon, but which actually are dignified because they are essential to making the world a better place. Forster also discusses matters like the goodness of making high quality products and the goodness of making “good enough” products that raise the standard of living of the poor. In discussing the economy, he looks at American labor law, at the role of markets, and at the regulation of markets.

The final chapter has to do with Christian involvement in politics. Here Forster argues for several distinctions. He makes the case that not all of life should be political life. There should be certain areas of life where we function as neighbors and in which politics is not used to enforce neighborliness. He is concerned that the politicization of everything will damage other important institutions in society. Forster also wants to distinguish between “theological justice” and “natural justice.” The former Christians should seek to further by persuasion. The latter should be something that Christians should press for politically. Forster’s hope is that this approach will allow for moral consensus that won’t be perceived as imposing Christianity on our neighbors.

In his conclusion, Forster examines the virtue of prudence. He exhorts his readers to discern not only where they want to go but what they can plausibly do to get there. They may want to go from A to Z, but they can only plausibly get their neighbors to come with them to G. So, Forster says, let’s try to bring them to G. Some radical cultural changes seem to happen overnight, but, Forster observes, these changes were actually the result of many small steps over a long period. Forster thinks Christians can learn from this.

Forster’s book has many strengths. Too many books on Christians in the public square neglect the role of the institutional church. Forster gives it a full third of the book. Others might assume that the institutional church should play an active role in political and societal issues, but Forster rightly recognizes that the institutional church has its own distinct mission. Another strength is Forster’s grasp of American religious history as his discernment regarding the stories that American Christians tell themselves about that history. Finally, I found Forster’s mediations of the sexual relations, marriage, work, and the economy full of insight.

The book has some weaknesses as well. I’m not yet convinced that the three offices of Christ really serve as a model for church life, though I am starting to see this idea in several places (due, I think, to the influence of Tim Keller). This is a minor complaint, however, because what Forster actually discusses in those chapters are the roles of doctrine, devotion, and sanctification. The cheif weakness of the book, in my view, is Forster’s reliance on John Locke’s politics of moral consensus. At the conclusion of his The Contested Public Square Forster wrote:

All paths now lead to danger. If we wish to preserve religious freedom, we must somehow find a way to build social consensus around the moral laws that politics requires without going back to dependence upon a shared religion. Locke’s confidence that this would happen simply on its own has proved to be misplaced. Tocqueville gave us what is probably the most penetrating analysis of the problem, and in the end he did not even pretend to offer a clear solution. To the contrary, he warned us that all of the tools available for preserving the moral foundations of democracy can easily become subverted and end up undermining those foundations instead. All of the great defenders of religious freedom since Tocqueville have joined him in confessing that its preservation in the face of this challenge is uncertain. But what is the alternative. Even if we were inclined to declare the experiment in religious freedom a failure, how would that help us? Attempting to restore a shared community religion as the basis of government policy would only deepen our divisions and exacerbate our conflicts. And if the entanglements of worldly and otherworldly powers caused unthinkable slaughter between Protestants and Catholics in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, what would it do now, when our societies are even more radically divided over religion? I do not know the answer to this crisis.

Perhaps the best answer is the one given in Joy for the World: live the Christian life joyfully before your neighbors and attempt to strengthen their acceptance of natural law. I certainly agree that Christians should act prudently and seek to advance righteousness in their limited sphere as they are able. Nonetheless, I remain doubtful that the kind of moral consensus that was possible in Locke’s day is possible today without the pervasive Christian influence on thought and culture that existed then.

Review of Sanders’s The Deep Things of God

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Sanders, Fred. The Deep Things of God: How the Trinity Changes Everything. Crossway, 2010.

This book has two notable strengths. First, it is an excellent introduction to the Trinity and its implications for the Christian life. If anyone thinks that the Trinity is an arcane doctrine that cannot have the central importance for the Christian life that Christians have historically given to, this would be a book to read. Personally. I especially appreciated the chapters on the Trinity and Scripture and the Trinity and prayer. Second, Sanders demonstrates that evangelicalism has strong Trinitarian foundations, even if sometimes only implicitly. Evangelicals have a tendency toward self-critique that can sometimes become problematic, so it was nice to read an author who, though not uncritical toward the evangelical tradition, was determined to draw on its strengths.