Exegesis and Theology

The Blog of Brian Collins

The Significance of Our Union with Christ

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First, we must understand that as long as Christ remains outside of us, and we are separated from him, all that he has suffered and done for the salvation of the human race remains useless and of no value for us. Therefore, to share with us what he had received from the Father, he had to become ours and to dwell within us. For this reason, he is called ‘our Head’ [Eph. 4:15], and ‘the first-born among many brethren’ [Rom. 8:29]. We also, in turn, after said to be ‘engrafted into him’ [Rom 11:17], and to ‘put on Christ’ [Gal. 3:27]; for, as I have said, all that he possess is nothing to us until we grow into one body with him.

Calvin, Institutes, 3.1.1.

N. T. Wright and Resurrection in the Old Testament

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Though appreciating a great deal of Wright’s argumentation in Resurrection and the Son of God, I did interact critically with him in my dissertation regarding his views on resurrection in the Old Tetament.

I quote Wright’s summary of the typical reconstructon of the development of resurrection beleif in Israel:

Surveys and studies of ancient Israelite beliefs about life after death have thus tended to plot three distinct types of phases. In the early period, there was little or no hope for a life of joy or bliss after death: Sheol swallowed up dead, kept them in gloomy darkness, and never let them out again. At some point (nobody knows when; dating of developments in such matters is notoriously difficult) some pious Israelites came to regard the love and power of YHWH as so strong that the relationship they enjoyed with him in the present could not be broken even by death. Then, again at an uncertain point, a quite new idea came forth: the dead would be raised. [RSG, 86]

Wright is willing to accept this position as “broadly accurate,” though he will adjust it to fit his unique emphasis on the exile of Israel (RSG, 86, 121-24).

In contrast, I would argue that the early parts of the Old Testament affirm the resurrection. For instance, Job claims that in the future, when his Redeemer stands on the earth (which will occur after the decomposition of his body), he will see God himself in his flesh (Job 19:25-27).

Wright says on this passage, “The passage in Job often thought to be an exception to this rule [that in Job there is no concept of life after death] is almost certainly not.” In Wright’s view, Job 19:25-27 is full of translational difficulties. Since other, clearer, passages in Job deny life after death, Wright finds it unlikely that this difficult passage should be understood differently (RSG 97-98).

But these other passages are not as clear as Wright supposes. Job 7:7-10 does say that once a man dies he never returns to “his house” or “his place.” But this is a true statement even for those who believe in resurrection. Resurrection occurs at the end of the age, and people do not return in this age to their own houses and places (Thomas Aquinas, The Literal Exposition of Job , trans. Anthony Damico [Atlanta: Scholars, 1989], 148-50).

Likewise Job 14:1-2, 7-14 applies only to this present world. A time limit is placed on the period in which people will not rise: “Till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep” (14:12). But after God’s wrath is past, Job desires to be remembered (14:13). Wright also prejudices his readers by cutting off the quotation in verse 14 with the question and providing “no” as the answer, whereas Job continues in verse 14 with a hope of his “renewal.” Even if the question of 14:14a should be answered, “no,” the remainder of the verse reveals that the “no” is not a denial of the resurrection (Aquinas, 228; Andersen, Job, TOTC, 169-70, 172-73; Talbert, Beyond Suffering, 111, 317-18, n. 66-67).

Thus Wright’s first example does not prove the absence of resurrection, and his second example actually points toward belief in resurrection. The way is therefore cleared for a look at Job 19:25-27 itself.

Wright says that nobody can really know whether the key word in 19:26 should be translated “in my flesh” or “without my flesh” (RSG, 98). But Job insists that his very own eyes will see his Redeemer (19:27), and eyes presuppose a body (Talbert, 121, 324, n. 51, 52, 57; Andersen, 193-94). Though not every phrase of Job 19:25-27 is entirely clear, the translation that affirms bodily resurrection is, on balance, the most likely.

I would also argue that the promises of God to Abraham also imply a resurrection. God had told Abraham, “I will give to you and to your offspring after you the land of your sojournings, all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession” (Genesis 17:8). But Abraham never received this promise during his lifetime (Heb. 11:13). It is this truth that lies behind Jesus’s affirmation that Exodus 3:6 teaches the resurrection (Matt. 22:23-33 || Mark 12:18-27 || Luke 20:27-40). God is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob because he has covenanted with them, and in the Exodus he is fulfilling some of the covenant promises made to them (Ex. 2:24-25). He is not the God of the dead but of the living, because the patriarchs must be raised one day for the promises to them to be fulfilled.
Wright correctly concludes that this passage is not only about the patriarchs in the intermediate state but that it also deals with their future bodily resurrection (RSG, 423-36). Given what Hebrews 11 says about what Abraham beleived, concerning these promises, I think we must conclude that Abraham beleived in resurrection.

Several Davidic Psalms also imply resurrection: 11:7; 16:8-11; 17:15; 23:6; 139:18. And yet a number of Psalms speak in a way that would seem to deny resurrection (Psalm 6:5; 30:9; 88:3-7, 10-12; 115:17; cf. 2 Samuel 14:14). Their presence together in the Psalter, along with the ascription of Davidic authorship to passages in both categories, argues that passages that seem to deny life after death should be harmonized with passages that affirm the afterlife and resurrection.

Hosea 13:14 is a borderline passage. In affirmation of ressurrection, see the NIV and HCSB. For an alternative approach, see NASB and ESV. On this passage Wright attempts to divorce later inspired interpretation of this passage from the original author’s intention (RSG, 118-19). I don’t find this an acceptable approach.

Isaiah clearly promises, “Your dead shall live; their bodies shall rise. You who dwell in the dust, awake and sing for joy! For your dew is a dew of light, and the earth will give birth to the dead” (Isa. 26:19).Isaiah’s affirmation of resurrection here is doubted by few, though Wright seems to indicate that many (not including him) wish to date the passage late simply because it affirms bodily resurrection (RSG, 116).  Daniel 12:2-3 is almost universally acknowledged to teach bodily resurrection (RSG, 110).

Given this evidence from the Old Testament, I would argue that bodily resurrectionis affirmed throughout the entire Old Testament, from patriarchs (or earlier) to prophets.

This material is adapted from my dissertation, available here for purchase as a paperback or for free download as a PDF.

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.

William B. Evans on Union with Christ: A Book and Two Articles

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I worked my way backwards through some articles by Evans to his published dissertation. I’ll need to do further reading from adherents to these different positions in order to really evaluate Evans’s presentations.

Evans, William B. “Three Current Reformed Models of Union With Christ,” Prebyterion 41, nos. 1-2 (Fall 2015): 12-30.

The three models that Evans notes are the “bifurcation model,” which he connects especially to Michael Horton and others at Westminster, CA; the “pneumatological-realism” model, which he connects to Geerhardus Vos and Richard Gaffin; and the “pneumatological-incarnational realism model,” which he connects with Calvin, John Williamson Nevin, the Southern Presbyterian John Adger, Thomas F. Torrance, and Robert Letham. It seems to me that Evans is least inclined toward the “bifurcation model” and is most inclined toward the “pnumatological-incarnational realism model.”

Evans, William B. “Dèjà Vu All Over Again? The Contemporary Reformed Soteriological Controversy in Historical Perspective,” Westminster Theological Journal 72, no. 1 (Spring 2010): 135ff.

This article also divides union with Christ views into three groups: (1) “Vos, Murray, Gaffin, et al”; (2) “The Revisionist Wing—Norman Shepherd and the Federal Vision,” (3) “The Repristinationist Wing—Westminster California.” The “Dèjà Vu” part of the title is due to similarities that Evans sees between these contemporary divisions and similar divisions in the 19th century. He thinks the Federal Vision and New England Theology are similar in their “repudiation of merit, and the foregrounding of sanctification,” though not in their ecclesiology. He thinks the Repristinationist Wing is similar to Hodge and the Princetonians because of their strong defense of federal theology, the ordo salutis, and the Law/Gospel distinction. He links the Vos, Murray, Gaffin group to Mercersberg, Shedd, and some Southern Presbyterians.

Evans, William B. Imputation and Impartation: Union with Christ in American Reformed Theology. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008.

This reworking of Evans’s dissertation looks at the theme of Union with Christ in Calvin and the Reformed Orthodox before turning to Edwards, the Edswardeans, Nevin and the Mercersburg School, and the Hodges at Princeton. He notes different ways that union of Christ has been related to other elements of soteriology and the impact those different configurations. The tone seemed rather negative, focusing on descriptions of how different configurations caused various theological problems. Noting such things is necessary, but I would have appreciated having this balanced out by noting the positives of each position culminating in a clear statement of the way forward.

Romans 16:7 and The Nature of Theology: Brief Notes on Some Recent Reading

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CPJ-11-FrontCover-forCBMcGraw, Ryan, trans. “Johannes Wollebius’s Paecognita of Christian Theology from Compendiusm Theologiae Christianae,” Confessional Presbyterian 11 (2015).

Excellent discussion of the definition and nature of theology along with a defense of canonical Scripture as the sufficient and final theological authority.

Burer, Michael. “ΈΠΙΣΗΜΟΙ ΈΝ ΤΟΙΣ ΆΠΟΣΤΟΛΟΙΣ in Rom 16:7 as ‘Well Known to the Apostles’: Further Defense and New Evidence,” JETS 58, no. 4 (December 2015): 731-55.

JETS_LogoThe thesis of Burer and Wallace in their NTS article is that one should take “ἐπίσημος genitive as inclusive (e.g., ‘notable among’)” and ἐπίσημος plus (ἐν plus) dative as exclusive (e.g., ‘well known to’).” (JETS 58, no. 4, p. 755). In his JETS article Burer responds to critiques of their thesis to show that it still holds and brings forth additional evidence from Greek literature to demonstrate that this pattern holds.

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.

Was Edwards an Intellectualist, Voluntarist, or Concurrentist

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Waddington, Jeffrey C. “Which Comes First, The Intellect or the Will? Alvin Plantinga and Jonathan Edwards on a Perennial Question,” The Confessional Presbyterian 11 (2015): 121-28, 252-53.

Alvin Plantinga, in Warranted Christian Belief, proposes a concurrentist model of the relation between the intellect and the will while identifying the position of Jonathan Edwards as intellectualist, or giving priority to the intellect. Waddington argues that Edwards’s position was closer to Plantinga’s than Plantinga realized.CPJ-11-FrontCover-forCB

In the course of the article Waddington helpfully classifies various positions on the relation of the intellect and will. The first noted is “absolute intellectualism,” a position associated with Thomas Aquinas. On this view “the will is considered blind, and is seen as a slave of sorts to the intellect.” A second position is “functional intellectualism.” In this view the intellect is primary because it presents the will with the “object to which it is either attracted or repulsed.” But ontologically the will and intellect are equals. Waddington notes this view is akin to the Trinity in which each of the persons are ontologically equal while a functional order among the members exists. A key difference between these two positions is that the sin has only affected the intellect in the first, since the will is a slave to the intellect. But on the second view, both intellect and will are affected by sin and in need of regeneration. A third position is “scholastic voluntarism.” On this view the will takes such priority that it is “self-determining.” A fourth position is “Augustinian voluntarism.” In this view, the will is the orientation of the person toward or away from God. This orientation his primacy over the intellect. Finally, there is the concurrentist position is which there is no primacy of intellect or will over the other.

Though Plantinga identified Edwards as an intellectualist, Edwards scholars such as Norman Fiering and Allen Guelzo have identified Edwards as an Augustinian voluntarist. Waddington notes that this is a valid option, and the view that he had held. However, he now recognizes the legitimacy of functional intellectualism to  describe Edwards. Both categories seem to fit elements of Edwards work. In the end, however, Waddington now thinks that Edwards fits best into the concurrentist position

Review of Article on the Problem of Evil and Animal Death

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Faro, Ingrid. “The Question of Evil and Animal Death Before the Fall,” Trinity Journal 36 (2015): 193-213.

Faro begins her article by seeking to determine what should be considered evil. She argues that too often English speakers read the English sense of the word into Hebrew words with much broader semantic domains. Though not explicit, she seems to indicate that natural events like hurricanes, or falling off a cliff due to gravity, etc. should not be classified as evils because it is the way God designed natural laws to work in the world. Gravity and hurricanes both have good effects too. As the article develops Faro seems to extend this logic to predation as well. When she defines evil she leaves aside senses from Hebrew words such as “deficient,” “displeasing,” or “unpleasant.” He definition reads: “Evil, then, from God’s perspective is presented predominately as choices that conflict with God.”

The advantage of this approach is evident for the Christian who wishes to escape the problem of animal death. It simply redefines animal death as not evil. However, I’m not convinced of the sufficiency of this argument. The philosophers who are concerned about the problem of evil in the animal world are not thinking that the pain and suffering and death in the animal realm is evil because they’re reading narrow English senses into words with broader Hebrew senses. They’re looking at death and pain and suffering and recoiling with horror at it. In addition limiting evil to actions chosen by humans seems too narrow theologically. If God has built creational norms into his world, and if sin has disrupted these norms across the board, then it would seem that evil is anything contrary to these norms whether or not the violation is due to human choice in an immediate sense.

The latter part of Faro’s article seeks to find biblical support for the possibility of animal death prior to the Fall. She appeals to three passages: Genesis 1-2, Psalm 104; Job 38-41.

She mounts a number of arguments from Genesis 1-2. First, she says the numbering of the days of creation reveal that “the universe was not created to be eternal in its original physical form” (206). She appeals to several cross references in support: Psalm 102:25-26; Isaiah 34:4; 51:6; Revelation 6:12-14; 21:1-4. It is not clear how the numbering of the days in Genesis 1 indicates that the present earth will be destroyed. The other passages all refer to a post-Fall reality and does not speak of what would have happened had there been no Fall.

Second, while acknowledging that plant death is different from animal death, she thinks it is significant that the seed and the “cycle of plant life” is a picture of death and resurrection (206-7). It is not clear how this argument advances Faro’s point. She could be arguing that if death was not present from the beginning, God would not have built in a sign of death and resurrection into plant life. But does this does not seem to be a sound argument given God’s foreknowledge.

Third, she claims that both Adam and the animals were formed from the dust of the ground, which she says indicates they were created mortal (appealing to Genesis 3:19). Humans were to eat from the tree of life to avoid death, but animals were not to eat of the tree of life. Thus animals were created mortal, and God intended for them to die. But Genesis 3:19 presents death as a punishment for sin, not as something built into the nature of the creation. The historic position is that Adam was created immortal but was not confirmed in his immortality. This position best accounts for all of the data: death as a punishment, the possibility of receiving that punishment, and the tree of life as a sign of confirmation in immortality. Furthermore, Genesis nowhere implies that animals would have needed to eat from that tree to avoid death. Faro’s reading makes it seem as if the tree has some kind of magical power rather than recognizing that the trees are sacramental in nature.

The argument from Psalm 104 is simple. This is a creation psalm that celebrates animal predation as part of God’s wise ordering of the earth (v. 24). In response, Psalm 104 is clearly a reflection on a creation that has been affected by the Fall (v.35). God’s provision of food for animals (and humans) now includes the death of other animals. But from the beginning it was otherwise. Genesis 1:29-30 gives plants as food to humans and to animals. It is only after the Fall that God permits the eating of meat (Gen. 9:3-6; note that the passage places limitations on what animals can and cannot eat as well as humans). Whether or not Genesis 9 is establishing something new or reiterating a permission given before the Flood is open for debate, but it is clear that the shift to eating meat happened after the Fall for both humans and animals.

The passages from Job are of the same nature as Psalm 104. They refer to God providing food for predatory animals or to death among animals. Faro’s argument would seem to be that God’s wisdom is on display even in situations that include animal death. But she is able to take this a step further with Job 40—we should not claim that animal death is an evil, for to do so would be to find fault with God or to contend with him. The difficulty with Faro’s argument is that Job 38-41 is dealing with God’s wisdom in providentially ruling over a fallen world. It makes no claims about what life would ideally have been like before the Fall.

Later Faro appeals to Job to make the case that death and suffering do not “exist in the world due to human sin” alone. She notes that one of the points of the book of Job is that death and suffering have causes other than sin (here she also appeals to John 9:2). Yet, while it is true that Job’s sufferings were not caused by his own sin, it is difficult to move from this to the conclusion that the suffering he experienced was in no way connected to the Fall brought about by Adam’s sin. Were the loathsome sores that covered Job from head to foot the kind of thing that could have occurred to a man had Adam not sinned?

Faro wraps up her article by taking into account the Scripture passages that look toward a future in which animals live together in harmony. She claims,  “Although animals of prey kill for food, animals are not capable of the savagery, cruelty, and terror that humanity can display. Humans, however, can teach animals cruelty, such as training pit bulls or roosters to fight and attack” (209). The human responsibility summarized in the creation mandate point in a different direction, Faro argues. She seems to indicate that part of the creation mandate is to improve animals from their original condition. The claim that animals are not capable of savagery or cruelty is a doubtful claim. Yet without this supposition Faro’s explanation fails to conform to the Creation, Fall, Redemption structure of Scripture. Key to this structure is an affirmation of the original goodness of creation.

The problem of evil as it pertains to animal death is one of the major philosophical challenges to forms of Christianity that seek to accommodate the current evolutionary consensus. Faro attempts to address this problem by claiming that animal death and suffering is actually not an evil. However, this claim rests on weak exegetical support and, at least in this article, fails to engage the philosophical/theological arguments to the contrary.

Thinking about the Development of Doctine

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91dj-uoppxlOne question I face in class as a church historian is, ‘If doctrine develops, does this mean that what unites us to Christ changes over time too?’ This is an excellent question and, indeed, a rather obvious one when one is investigating the history of doctrine. Two things need to be borne in mind here.

First, Scripture gives no hint that that which saves changes: it is always trust in Christ that unites one to Christ. Thus, someone who was a believer in the first century is saved in the same way as someone who believes in the twenty-first.

Second, as noted above, the public criteria for what constitutes a credible profession of faith do change over time, as do the standards for office-bearing. As the church reflected upon the identity of Christ and upon Scripture over time, the limitations and inadequacies of certain formulations became more apparent. We noted above that in the third century, the view that Christ was subordinate to the Father in terms of his being was considered acceptable because the implications of that position had not been fully worked out. Once this had been done, and the unacceptable, unbiblical implications of such a position had become clear, the church put in place statements that ruled such views out of bounds. It is not that people who believed in Christ’s subordination in the second century could not therefore have been saved—we are all, after all, saved despite some of the things which we believe. It is rather that the church had come to an understanding that to protect and to articulate the gospel, accurate concepts and appropriate language were necessary, and some of these had to change over time as the in adequacy and abuse of earlier forms became clear.

Carl R. Trueman, The Creedal Imperative, (Wheaton: Crossway, 2012), 96-97.

Hans Madueme Reviews Three Books on Adam

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Madueme, Hans. “Adam and Eve: An Evangelical Impasse?” Christian Scholar’s Review 45, no. 2 (Winter 2016): 165-183.

Madueme reviews three books on Adam: Karl Giberson’s Saving the Original Sinner, William VanDoodewaard’s The Quest for the Historical Adam, and John Walton’s The Lost World of Adam and Eve.

Madueme finds the strength of Giberson’s book its study of the history of varied interpretations regarding Adam. He also finds instructive the chapter on racism, which recounts why belief in the historical Adam did not prevent racism, as it ought to have, namely, becuase racists held the view that non-Europeans had degenerated from a superior white race. Nonetheless, Madueme finds problems in Giberson’s account. He notes that Giberson’s use of one frequently cited book “is hard to square” with what that source actually says. Giberson also misreads the early church’s view of original sin prior to Augustine. Most significantly, Giberson holds that the Bible itself must submit to “challenge from the advancing knowledge of the present.” Thus Paul is in error. Finally, Madueme notes that Giberson critiques creationist popularizers but fails to interact with creationists who are “reputable scientists (such as Leonard Brand, Arthur Chadwick, Paul Garner, Andrew Snelling, Kurt Wise, Todd Wood) and respected theologians (such as Douglas Kelly, John Mark Reynolds, Iain Duguid, Todd Beall, John Frame).” A critic should always critique his opponents where they are strongest.

Madueme holds out VanDoodewaard’s book as an example of excellent young earth creationist writing. Madueme notes that “of the three books under review, VanDoodewaard’s is the strongest theologically.” He praises VanDoodewaard’s critique of the claim that the creationist tradition is due to the literalist hermeneutic of Seventh Day Adventism. VanDoodewaard shows a heritage with roots in Scottish Presbyterianism, Southern Presbyterianism, the Dutch Reformed, and Lutheranism (both Missouri and Wisconsin synods). Madueme’s critiques are largely that he wishes VanDoodewaard had written a different or an expanded work. He wishes VanDoodewaard had interacted with the writings of more scholars outside the Reformed tradition. He also wishes that VanDoodewaard’s argument regarding a link between the denial of a historical Adam racism also dealt with the racism that existed among literalists. Finally, Madueme wishes that VanDoodewaard had provided more social context in his historical sections. The most substantive critique has to do with VanDoodewaard’s use of the term literalistic. Madueme thinks that adoption of this term both unnecessarily plays into the hands of critics and reflects that fact that VanDoodewaard sometimes sets up a false dichotomy.

Madueme is unconvinced by Walton’s continued work in the opening chapters of Genesis. A foundational premise of Walton’s is that the creation narrated in these opening chapters is functional rather than physical. Madueme thinks this sets up a false dichotomy. Being formed from the dust can both be a literal, historical statement as well as maintain some symbolism. But Walton will only see it one way or the other. Madueme sees it particularly devastating to Walton’s thesis the concession that aside from Romans 5 and 1 Corinthians 15, the New Testament does not treat Adam as an archetype. This shows to Madueme that the dichotomy between first historical human and archetype should not be maintained. Madueme is also concerned that Walton’s approach amounts to an embrace of Stephen Jay Gould’s Non Overlapping Magisterium. While “Walton insists, repeatedly that we should read the Bible on its own terms without imposing modern scientific questions,” the approach is driven (though not “solely” driven, Madueme hastens to add) by scientific concerns. Finally, Madueme is troubled by Walton’s view of accommodation. “On this view, God accommodated his Word to the erroneous beliefs of the biblical authors.” Thus “the background beliefs” of Paul—even as expressed in the text—can be rejected though his “explicit statements” cannot be. But, Madueme notes, “ancient people believed in God or gods, that they exist, that they act in the world, that they engage with humanity, and so on. [Walton] is counseling readers of Scripture ex hypothesi to dismiss those portions as an incidental part of their cognitive environment. Presumably Walton would reply that his methodology only applies to those parts of the Bible that relate to scientific questions; that is, issues in cosmology, biology, and so on. But that proves my point—modern science is having an undue influence. Is this biblical scholarship with a Kantian twist, Scripture within the bounds of a naturalistic science?”

Madueme concludes that Giberson’s book has the advantage of avoiding conflict with the present scientific consensus but suffers from the fatal defect of reconfiguring Christianity in the process. He appreciates VanDoodewaard’s book but finds it too parochial. He urges evangelicals to show young earth creationists more academic respect and for these creationists to argue for their positions without attacking other evangelicals. He thinks that Walton’s book at its best shows “that evangelical biblical scholarship has the resources to engage difficult questions raised by modern science.” But, “at its worst, the picture that emerges is a theologically anemic, hermeneutical mirror dancing to the scientific consensus.”