rist

In Christ, there is not only a sufficiency but a redundancy,—it overflows the banks.

Christ is never sweet till sin is felt to be bitter; nor is he rest till man feels sin to be a burden.

Temptation to Christ, was like throwing a buron a mirror, which will not stick. His life was purer than the sunbeams.

If we are in Christ while we live, we shall go to Christ when we die. Union is the ground of privilege, hence we must be in Christ before we can be with Christ.

The fulness which is in Christ is as light in the sun; it dwells there—it is never-failing. The riches of Deity are in him, and the communication of this blessed fulness is that which satisfies the soul.

Jesus Christ is an incomprehensible blessing. Whatever God can require for satisfaction or we can need for salvation, is to be found in Christ. His name is the sweetest music to a Christian’s ear, and his blood the most precious balm to a Christian’s heart.

Christ died for our preferment; he suffered that we might reign. He hung on the cross that we might sit on the throne; his crucifixion is our coronation.

At Christ’s death, “the rocks rent.” Not to be affected with Christ’s dying love, is to have hearts harder than rocks.

When the arrow of a saint’s prayer is put into the bow of Christ’s intercession, it pierceth the very heavens. It was love in God the Father to send Christ, and love in Christ, that he came to be incarnate. Christ’s assuming our human nature, as it was a master-piece of wisdom, so it was a monument of free grace.

Christ is such a golden mine of wisdom, grace, and glory, that neither saints nor angels can ever fathom their depth in him; there is both fulness and sweetness. Nor does a Christian need necessaries—in Christ he has unsearchable riches.

The full Godhead would be terrible to behold—we could not see it and live; but Jesus, clothing himself with humanity, makes the Divine nature beautiful and lovely to behold.

Christ sweetens all our comforts, and sanctifies all our crosses.

A beggar may behold the glory of a king, and not be happy; but Christ’s glory shall be ours,—“We shall be like Him.”

Christ, who was veiled in the types, is clearly revealed in the glass of the Scriptures.

Bread is satisfying; so Jesus Christ, the Bread of life, satisfies the soul: he satisfies the mind with confidence, the heart with affection, the conscience with peace.

Christ’s Godhead did give both majesty and efficacy to his sufferings. Christ was the sacrifice, the priest, and the altar; he was the sacrifice, as man; he was the priest, being God-man; he was the altar, being God.

We must look on sin with a penitent eye, and on Christ with a believing eye. We must weep for sin that slew Christ, but hope in the “Lamb slain” which taketh away sin.

Christ mingles his sweet odours with the prayers of the saints; although they ascend from the believer weak and worthless, they proceed from Christ mighty and powerful.

Christians

I have read of a holy man, who being tempted by some former companions to sin, he made this answer: I am so busy in reading a little book, which contains such deep mysteries, that I have resolved to read it all the days of my life. It has but three leaves. In the first leaf, which is red, I am taught to meditate on the precious blood of Christ, which was shed for my sins. In the second leaf, which is white, I meditate on the pure and glorious joys of heaven. In the third leaf, which is black, I contemplate the hideous and dreadful torments of hell, prepared for the wicked for all eternity.”

The saints are like letters engraven on Christ’s heart, which cannot be erased out.

A child of God fears, because the “gate is strait;” but hopes, because the gate is open.

Christians should be both diamonds and loadstones: diamonds, for the lustre of their graces; loadstones, by attracting others to Christ.

A true Christian is a dwarf in humility, but a giant in strength to fulfil duty, to bear trial, and to endure temptation.

A Christian is as much afraid of a painted holiness as he is of going to a painted heaven.

The song of the Psalmist, when he longed for deliverance from the sorrows of life, was, “Oh that I had wings like a dove! I would flee away.” The bird longs to be out of the cage, although it be adorned with pearl and ornamented with gold.

The world, to a man of God, is but a beautiful prison; nor can he love his fetters, which detain him there, although they be made of gold. He sends his heart to heaven before his body is set free,—“Setting your affections on things above.”

The trees of righteousness, when they grow together, flourish most in godliness; the communion of saints promotes fruitfulness; by association knowledge is increased, faith is strengthened, and evidences are cleared; but when the trees which are planted in the garden of the Lord stand at a distance from each other, there is neither communion nor fruitfulness.

The godly in this life are like scattered pearls; they lie distant from each other, and are dispersed into several regions; but there is a day coming, when God will gather his saints “unto him” as one places his pearls on a string. “In the day that he makes up his jewels.”

A believer triumphs more in the righteousness of Christ imputed, than if he had Adam’s righteousness in innocency, nay, than if he had the angels’ righteousness, for now he hath the righteousness of God. “That we might be made the righteousness of God in him.”

Church

God’s Church is the apple of his eye, and the eyelid of his providence doth daily cover and defend it.

Christ preserves his church as a spark in the ocean, as a flock of sheep among wolves.

If the enemies destroy the church, it must be at a time when there is neither day nor night, for Christ keeps it day and night. Isa. 37:3.

If Christ be in the ship of his church, although the waves may threaten to overwhelm, there cannot be shipwreck. “I the Lord do keep it.”

Conscience

Conscience is God’s deputy in the soul, his viceroy; the wicked do all they can to dethrone conscience and put it aside. Co

To Have Christ Live In as To Be Controlled by Christ — To have Christ “live in” oneself denotes being controlled by Christ.

Source: To Have Christ Live In

Target: To Be Controlled by Christ

Category: Idiom

To

RSE 9

And be found in him.

Some read the words actively, that I may find Christ; but the phrase in the original varying from the former, therefore it is better translated as we have it, passively (p). But when is it that St Paul desireth to be found in Christ? Ever, no doubt, but especially at the hour of death and day of judgment.

The phrase implies, first, that there is an estate in Christ; secondly, an abiding in it; and thirdly, to be found abiding in him. For the handling whereof, we will first explain the phrase; secondly, we will shew what doctrines it doth clear; then we will come to some instructions arising therefrom. The phrase, ‘to be in Christ,’ is taken from plants which are grafted into stocks, or from the branches, which are said to be in the tree. Thus are we in the vine. It is Christ’s own comparison. And of this union with Christ there are three degrees.

First, We are in Christ and in God, first loving us; and so we were in him before we were. He chose us from all eternity.

Secondly, When Christ died, then we were in him as a public person.

Thirdly, We are said most properly to be in him now when we believe in him; and thus principally is the sense understood in this place. And thus we are in Christ, not as the manhood is in Christ, but mystically; not as friends in one another by love, but by faith we are engrafted; as truly as the branches are in the vine, so are we one.

Obj. But Christ is in heaven, we are on earth; how can we be united to him that is so far distant from us?

Ans. I answer, If a tree did reach to heaven, and have its root in the earth, doth this hinder that the branches and the root are not united? In no wise. So Christ he is in heaven, and we on earth, yet are we united to him by his Spirit, and receiving influence from him of all grace and goodness.

Now let us see what doctrines are cleared hereby: first, it clears the point of justification by Christ. For if the question be, How we are saved by Christ’s righteousness? I answer, Christ and we are both one. Doth not the eye see for the body? Are not the riches of the husband and wife all one? Yes. And even also whatsoever Christ hath is ours; he is our husband; he is our head. In the second place, it clears the matter of the sacrament. The papists would have the bread transubstantiated into the body of Christ, that it may be united to us. I answer, how is the foot in the head? Is it not by spiritual vigour passing to and fro through the body, but chiefly in the head. It is not therefore necessary that there should be any corporal union. Nay, Christ comforted his disciples more by his Spirit when he departed from them than he did by his corporal presence. We say also, that the mystical body of Christ is invisible, because the Spirit whereby we are made one is invisible.

This should comfort us at all times and in all estates. Before we were in Christ we were in an estate of horror, in an estate of damnation. Now to be reduced to Christ (what comfort is it to be one of a politic body? It is but for life. Or to be in any man’s favour? It is but at will); this is a most excellent, glorious, and eternal being; that man’s nature should be so highly advanced as to be united to the Godhead. Yea, our persons are mystically united to Christ. Secondly, in all crosses or losses. What though we lose other states, here is a state cannot be shaken. Thirdly, in the hour of death we are in Christ; and blessed are they that die in the Lord. Death, that separates the soul from the body, cannot separate either from Christ. Fourthly, after death. Can it go hard with me that am in Christ, that am his spouse? I am in him in whom is fulness of comfort. Fifthly, in all wants here I have him to supply all. He will give what is necessary. If we should have fulness of grace here we should not desire to be in heaven hereafter. Sixthly, in persecution all my hurt redounds to him: ‘Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?’ Acts 9:4. That which thou dost to my members thou dost to me?

In the fourth place, Let us consider how this being in Christ is a ground of doing of all duty. I say therefore it will direct us in duties to God, towards men, and to ourselves.

First, In duties towards God, how thankful ought we to be to him, for taking us to himself, for being Immanuel, God with us, so that we are become bone of his bone. What need we now saints or angels to intercede for us? Who should Christ hear above his own flesh? For duties towards men, this ought to stir us to duties of peace and unity. Shall we be so unnatural as to fall out with the members of our own body? Non est concors cum Christo ubi est discors cum Christiano.

Secondly, It ought to stir us up to duties of respect to each other, considering they are members of Christ as we are, and shall so be found in him ere long.

Thirdly, This should stir us up to charity to the poor members of Christ. They being his members are fellow-members; and in loving them and doing them good, we shew our love to Christ himself.

And in the last place, Towards ourselves, we are to carry ourselves with more respect, and not to prostitute ourselves to every base pleasure. Consider in whom am I, and to what I am redeemed, and with what price? Shall I make my body the member of an harlot, who am the member of Christ? This pride and high esteem of ourselves above base pleasures and lusts, this is commendable; and therefore the apostle had good reason thus to account of these earthly things to be ‘dross and dung.’ In the second place, this will teach us to see our residence in Christ, and growth in him; for if we be in Christ, we will have an especial eye to our conversation, that we be not feet of iron and clay under a golden head, as many base licentious drunkards and filthy persons esteem of themselves. Will Christ own such members as these, think we? No. Those that are in Christ, Christ will be in them, discovering himself by ruling in them. His house is holy. If we be of his house, we will not desire, grieve, nor affect,* but by the sway of his Spirit.

In the last place, How shall we come to be found in Christ?

Ans. I answer, we must first come where he is. We shall find him in the temple, teaching and strengthening our faith and love; and so in our judgments and affections we shall be in him. Secondly, we must separate ourselves from the contrary to Christ, as a loyal wife will from all doubtful acquaintance. We must depart from antichrist, our own corruptions and lusts, and daily we must labour to get ground of them.

And from the words this we may learn: first, that a Christian is continually under Christ’s wing till he be in heaven, else how could the apostle desire to be found in him at the day of judgment?

Secondly, We learn that there is such a time when God will, as it were with a candle, search men out, and lay them open as they are. This is not thought upon. Men now shuffle it off, I shall be saved as well as any other, and this and that good company I am acquainted withal. Trust not, I say, to good acquaintance. There is a time of separation, when thou shalt be found out as thou art in thine own colours.

Thirdly, Hence we learn that the foundation of future happiness must be laid now. Before we can be with Christ in the kingdom of glory we must be his members in the kingdom of grace. Dost thou live therefore a corrupt and carnal life here? Never think to be found in him hereafter. And therefore let the uncertainty of this life be a spur to thee, to watch over thy ways, so as thou be such at this and all other times as you would be willing to be found at that day. Many boast hereof, but their lives savour nothing hereof, but are knit altogether to their lusts or to antichrist. Woe to such. They shall go on the left hand. But such as Christ finds in him it must needs go well with them. Christ will not judge them for whom he died, but shall set them on his right hand for evermore.

Not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law

In these words, and those following, the apostle lays down summarily his desire, first, negatively in these words, he desired ‘not to be found in Christ trusting to his own righteousness;’ implying a difference and distinction between his righteousness by the law and that by Christ. The righteousness ‘by the law’ he disclaims as any way meritorious, and that as well habitual, wrought by God in him, or actual righteousness, consisting in the outward works that he did. And that with good reason; for, first, man’s righteousness is but finite, and therefore unfit to work or deserve infinitely, and impossible to deserve heaven and the joys thereof. Secondly, This righteousness is imperfect, and stained as a ‘menstruous cloth,’ and unable to quiet or satisfy our own consciences, much less God who is greater than our own consciences. And therefore the saints prayed, ‘Enter not into judgment with thy servants, Lord, for in thy sight shall no flesh be justified.’ But the papists answer, the work of God is perfect; but our righteousness is the work of God, and therefore perfect. We say that the works of God are within us or without us. The works of God without us are perfect, but those that are within us are imperfe

5. A Metaphor for a Believer’s Communion. A fifth view of the phrase “in Christ” interprets it as a metaphor of communion with Christ, either personally or corporately. Historically the Roman Catholic Church has tended to emphasize this view from a corporate perspective, that is, to be “in Christ” is to be part of the “holy catholic church.” More recently, however, non-Catholic writers have begun to argue along similar lines. According to Rudolph Bultmann, “ ‘in Christ,’ far from being a formula for mystic union, is primarily an eschatological formula … to belong to the Christ Church is to be ‘in Christ’ or ‘in the Lord.’ ”14 Similarly John A. T. Robinson interpreted this expression from the perspective of “the Church as literally now the resurrection ‘body’ of Christ.”15

Again the failure of this view is not so much in what is stated but in what remains unstated. There can be no disputing that being “in Christ” is the basis for an intimate communion with Christ, both personally and corporately in the church, which is His body, but it cannot be limited to a mere metaphor of personal or corporate communion. Augustus Hopkins Strong correctly noted:

Lest we should regard the figures mentioned above as merely Oriental metaphors, the fact of the believer’s union with Christ is asserted in the most direct and prosaic manner.… Thus the believer is said to be “in Christ,” as the element or atmosphere which surrounds him with its perpetual presence and which constitutes his vital breath; in fact, this phrase “in Christ,” always meaning “in union with Christ,” is the very key to Paul’s epistles, and to the whole New Testament. The fact that the believer is in Christ is symbolized in baptism: we are “baptized into Christ” (Gal. 3:27).16

6. Being in the Spirit of Christ. A sixth view of this phrase interprets it as, in the words of Adolph Deissmann, “a literal local dative of personal existence in the pneumatic Christ.”17 One writer explained:

Deissmann thought that St. Paul regarded Christ as a king of spiritual space in which the believer lives, as in an atmosphere, and maintained that “en Christo” had this mystical meaning every time it was mentioned. Though this cannot really be maintained, in the overwhelming number of cases it must mean what it says; it must be given a “locative” sense. To be “in Christ” is to possess an entirely different kind of life.18

Deissmann tended to use the analogy of air, which is within the human body at the same time as individuals are in an atmosphere; and while the analogy is consistent with his view, he tended in doing so to deny the personality of Christ. More contemporary writers have corrected this error in following Deissmann’s argument yet also insisting upon the personality of Christ. Richard N. Longeecker represents this modification as he noted:

As the Old Testament can say that Abraham “trusted in Jahweh” (nine times out of eleven using the preposition ba rather than al with the hiphil form with its object as God), and as Jesus is reported to have spoken of His relationship to the Father as being “in the Father,” all without diminishing the concept of the real personality of God, so Paul, with his high Christology, can speak of being “in Christ” without that concept of person “in” person softening or dissolving the fixed outlines of personality for either Christ or the Christian. To be forced to give a definite psychological analysis of this relationship would have left Paul speechless. But he was convinced that he had experienced just such an intimacy with Christ.19

7. In the Universal Church. Some dispensationalists have used the phrase to mean the believer is placed into the body of Christ, which is the universal church. The action occurred in the baptism of the Spirit (1 Cor 12:13). It produces a nonexperiential position for the believer. John F. Walvoord explained this position.

The expression “in Christ” in every one of its many instances in the New Testament refers only to the saints of this dispensation. As far as the expression “the dead in Christ” indicates, only those in Christ are raised. Of course, all the saints are in Christ in the sense that Christ is their substitute, but the question is whether they are in the body of Christ, baptized into His body, as the Scriptures picture.… There is no explicit teaching anywhere in the Bible that reveals that the Old Testament saints are resurrected at the time the church is resurrected. In other words, the two events are never brought together in any passage of Scripture. The best explanation of the expression “dead in Christ” is to refer it to the church alone.20

8. In the Person of Christ in the Heavenlies. The final view is similar to the immediately previous position, “in the universal church,” but notes that the believer is placed into the person of Christ in the heavenlies, not just a heavenly church entity. Placement in the person of Christ is His body. Interpreting these ideas literally, the believer was placed “in Christ” historically on Golgotha and remains “in Christ.” The believer was positionally placed in Christ on the Day of Pentecost. He was actually placed in Christ at his conversion and symbolically placed in Christ when he is baptized in water.

The Pauline description of the believer “in Christ” is not too unlike the prenatal description of a child “in his mother.” There is perhaps no more intimate relationship between two human beings than that of mother and child during that period. At the same time, however, both individuals have a distinct identity, so much so that some forms of medicine specialize in treating one party in this relationship without affecting the other. The baby is “in his mother,” and at the same time the very lifeblood of the mother sustains the baby.

The position of the believer in Christ is only half the truth; Christ is in the believer. Jesus said, “… Ye in me, and I in you” (John 14:20). The first is nonexperiential; the believer is positionally “in Christ.” The second is experiential and is based on the first, “Christ in me.”

Just because one says to be “in Christ” is nonexperiential does not mean one does not have an experience related to it. One cannot be “in Christ” without having “Christ in you.” So when one experiences Christ in his life, the experience is based on being “in Christ.” Those who attempt to remove the mystery or life from this doctrine take the supernatural from Christianity. According to Richard N. Longenecker:

Endless debate will probably continue to gather around Paul’s expression “in Christ,” for it signifies that central aspect of the Christian life which is much better experienced than explained. Indeed, the more confident we are that we have reduced the expression to the cold prose of the psychologist’s laboratory the more assured we can be that we have lost its central significance. The inexplicable must always remain in the truly personal relationship. Yet that relationship can be intellectually understood and expressed up to a point.21

Being “in Christ” is not merely some religious experience to be divorced from the rest of life and living. As noted previously, Paul used this expression in connection with virtually every aspect of Christian experience. Albert Schweitzer observed:

Though the expression has thus almost the character of a formula, it is no mere formula for Paul. For him every manifestation of the life of the baptized man is conditioned by his being in Christ. Grafted into the corporeity of Christ, he loses his creative individual existence and his natural personality. Henceforth he is only a form of manifestation of the personality of Jesus Christ, which dominates that corporeity. Paul says this with trenchant clearness when he writes, in the Epistle to the Galatians, “I am crucified with Christ, so I live no longer as I myself; rather, it is Christ who lives in me” (Gal. 2:19–20). The fact that the believer’s whole being, down to his most ordinary everyday thoughts and actions, is thus brought within the sphere of the mystical experience has its effect of giving to this mysticism a breadth of permanence, a practicability, and a strength almost unexampled elsewhere in mysticism.22

Similarly, Watchman Nee argued the believer is placed “in Christ” as the believer accepts “Christ in him.”

But if God has dealt with us ‘in Christ Jesus’ then we have got to be in Him for this to become effective, and that now seems just as big a problem. How are we to ‘get into’ Christ? Here again God comes to our help. We have in fact no way of getting in, but what is more important, we need not try to get in, for we are in. What we could not do for ourselves, God has done for us. He has put us into Christ. Let me remind you of 1 Corinthians 1:30. I think that it is one of the best verses in the whole New Testament: ‘Ye are in Christ.’ How? ‘Of him (That is, ‘of God’) are ye in Christ.’ Praise God! It is not left to us either to devise a way of entry or to work it out. We need not plan how to get in. God has planned it; and He has not only planned it but He has also performed it. ‘Of him are ye in Christ Jesus.’ We are in; therefore we need not try to get in. It is a divine act, and it is accomplished.23

The experience of being placed in Christ occurs at conversion, whereas usually at some later point, the believer enters into or experiences the reality of this truth (some understand it at conversion). The key, according to Stuart Briscoe, is faith. Appealing to his Noah in the Ark illustration, he argued:

The simple faith of Noah which motivated his step-in was evidenced as he stepped out. Noah heard the word “go forth,” and “Noah went forth” (Genesis 8:18). To him, the one step of faith into the salvation of God was as logical as the series of steps of faith that were going to carry him to the extremities of the riches of a new land which God had made part of his salvation. Noah did not look out and long for the land. He did not have an all-night prayer meeting asking God to make the land his experience. Noah did not sit in his ark giving his testimony of how God saved him from the flood, and he did not plead with God to come and do a wonderful work in his heart that was going to bring the land to his own experience. He looked out, and he stepped out. If Noah had sat in his ark much longer, he would probably have suffered from acute boredom and deep depression, even though he was saved. But once he stepped out, he had no time to be either bored or depressed. The man of God who gets bored or depressed is the man who is still sitting in the ark and rejoicing that his sins are forgiven, but hasn’t reached the point of stepping out and exploring the land. Remember boredom and depression are aliens in the land of freshness and newness.24

The holiness view of “in Christ” is that it occurs in a sanctifying experience at some point in the Christian life. The believer prays for sanctification and receives it in a second work of grace. The Calvinist views sanctification as a continuous progress in Christian growth. The holiness view regards sanctification as a crisis experience, described as “placing all on the altar,” “letting go and letting God,” or “receiving” spiritual truth, followed by a continued experience of continued growth.

Being “in Christ” is therefore a description of the believer not only at conversion but also throughout his Christian experience. In identifying the believer’s position “in Christ,” Paul also hinted further at the intimacy that exists between the believer and his Lord. As the child in his mother is an individual personality while very much a part of his mother, so the believer retains his individual personality while being in Christ. The concept involves a greater degree of intimacy than may be implied in the togetherness statements or partnership statements of Paul. The truth of “in Christ” establishes a connection between the believer’s association with Christ and living in Christ.

BOOK REVIEWS

New Testament Greek: A Beginning and Intermediate Grammar, by James Allen Hewett, revised and expanded by C. Michael Robbins and Steven R. Johnson (includes CD). Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009, xxiii + 324 pp., cloth, $34.95.

First published in 1986, New Testament Greek: A Beginning and Intermediate Grammar has helped countless numbers of first-year Greek students learn the fundamentals of New Testament Greek. The revisers are C. Michael Robbins, who teaches Greek at Claremont Graduate University, and Steven R. Johnson, who teaches Greek at Lycoming College. James Allen Hewett, who previously taught Greek at Asbury Theological Seminary, apparently had no part in the revision, although he has an entry on the dedication page with the revisers.

Like the first edition of New Testament Greek: A Beginning and Intermediate Grammar, this revision is one of the better grammars of New Testament Greek available. There are about 475 Greek words introduced in the vocabularies, mainly words occurring more than thirty times. The material presented is comprehensive in scope and much more detailed than other grammars. Each chapter ends with an abundance of translation exercises, many drawn from the New Testament, to give students practice in using the grammatical concepts introduced in the current and preceding chapters.

Just over a fourth of the new preface by Robbins and Johnson is a discussion of revisions and add

AUL’S FOCUS ON IDENTITY*

Klyne R. Snodgrass

IF ANYONE FOCUSED ON IDENTITY, IT WAS PAUL. Esler correctly describes Paul as an entrepreneur of identity.1 Similarly those in pastoral roles should see themselves as entrepreneurs of identity. Pastors seek to help people understand who God says they are and how they should live; pastors communicate identity. This is the reason a hermeneutics of identity is so important. It is a direct path to understanding who God says humans are to be.

Paul and the other New Testament letter-writers began their epistles by identifying themselves and their recipients. They took the ancient letter introduction, which designated sender and recipient, and Christianized it by emphasizing the religious identity of both. For example Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 1:1–2, “Paul, called an apostle of Christ Jesus through the will of God, and Sosthenes the brother, to the church of God which is at Corinth, those set apart in Christ Jesus, called holy ones, with all those who call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ in every place, both theirs and ours” (author’s translation). The identity of everyone concerned was established from the outset. That identity was determined by God, His actions in Christ, the fact that the people were in both Corinth and Christ (an interesting pairing of geographies), and the fact that they were joined with all the others who call on the Lord.

In Paul’s letters he often discussed the matter of identity. His debates with opponents were over what constitutes the identity God seeks. His instructions on conflicts and questions in churches were largely about what identity in Christ means. Three texts are paradigmatic in dealing with identity: 1 Corinthians 15:8–10; Ephesians 5:8; and portions of Galatians 2 and 3. Each of these texts is foundational for understanding identity, and each one is surprising in what it affirms.

1 CORINTHIANS 15:8–10

This passage about Paul’s own identity is often ignored because it comes in the middle of a discussion of the resurrection and Jesus’ resurrection appearances. After listing others to whom the risen Christ appeared, Paul listed himself last (vv. 5–8), but he knew he did not deserve even to be in the list. He could not deny his history of having persecuted God’s people, of being totally in the wrong and committing unjustifiable acts. Revelation had come to him like a sudden, abnormal birth (“one untimely born,” v. 8), an event that changed his identity. Still Paul viewed himself as “the least of the apostles,” not worthy “to be called an apostle” (v. 9), but history, as real as it is, does not get ultimate defining force.

In the words that follow Paul made the most freeing statement in all the world: “By the grace of God I am what I am” (v. 10). He could not be someone else, but he was not left by himself. The grace of God both reinstated him and redefined him. This is not a statement of arrogance or distance. Paul was not saying, “This is just who I am, so leave me alone.” He was saying in effect, “By God’s grace He has taken my regrettable history and given me life and value, and He has engaged me in His own work.” Earlier Paul pointed out that grace destroys arrogance when he asked the Corinthians, “What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as if you had not received it?” (4:7). All that we are and have is a gift of grace.

Grace, however, is not easily grasped; it is more a “liturgical” word for many Christians than a word with content. Grace is not simply something God gives us; it is God giving us Himself. Grace is much broader than most Christians are aware. It is the place where Christians live (Rom. 5:2); geography is identity. And as 1 Corinthians 15:10 makes explicit, it is a power at work in us. Paul’s freeing statement on identity—“By the grace of God I am what I am”—shows that grace will not leave us as we were. Grace is a power that engages us in work and that works in and on us. Käsemann is correct in pointing out that we cannot have the gift apart from the Giver, and to be related to the Giver is to be energized by His power and grace.2 Grace put Paul to work. Grace that does not change and energize is grace never known. If work does not result, grace has not been experienced.

Paul’s self-understanding and arrogance had been reframed. He should have been excluded because he had persecuted the church, but his life had been transformed by being united to Christ. We are never so separated from God by our past that we are precluded from being our real selves. Our histories cannot be changed, but they do not have to be lived in, and they do not deserve ultimate defining force. We are not defined by our history, even if we have done something so dastardly as to persecute Christians. Our past lives influence our present, but the impact of our past is limited. It can teach, but it cannot dictate. What has ultimate defining force for Christians is Jesus Christ, the call of God, and what God can do by His grace as He transforms and energizes a person.

Paul’s commitments and loyalties were reframed, and his relations were reoriented—his relations with God and Jesus first, then especially with Gentiles, but also with the church and other Jews. The Gentiles became important to him, and he served them. His relationship with the Law was changed. It was no longer the center of gravity for him; Christ was. Paul’s boundaries were redrawn so that even while distinctions were acknowledged, boundaries between people were obliterated—no small thing for a scrupulous Jew. His internal life had been reordered as well.

None of us can escape who we are, and we cannot be someone else. But we can say, “By the grace of God I am what I am, and this grace is not without benefit to me.” This statement is freeing, but it is also a foundation for life and it enables our identity to be a tool to be used by God’s grace. Grace is an identity-constructing force.

EPHESIANS 5:8

The purpose of Ephesians is debated. No specific problem is being addressed, and no purpose is obvious, a fact that renders theories of the epistle’s pseudonymity suspect, to say the least. Much of the first three chapters of Ephesians is a prayer that reminds believers of what God has accomplished in Christ and asks that believers grasp the significance of what God has done. Emphasizing identity formation, encouragement, and motivation to right living may be seen as the general purposes of the letter.3 This letter focuses explicitly on identity and is constructed around five explicit “formerly-now” contrasts (2:1–10; 2:11–13; 2:19–22; 4:17–24; and 5:8).4 They offer a painful but realistic assessment of life without God, and they give engaging descriptions of conversion and its effect. They contain narratives about change in geography, attitudes, values, commitments, and relations. These portrayals of life before and with Christ are designed to keep people from living like everyone around them and to call them to mirror their relationship with Christ in their daily lives.

The most striking of the contrasts, the one in 5:8, functions as a summary of much of the letter: “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light” (NIV). This obvious identity text contains words few of us would be willing to say, as Paul did, to people

Clearly identity is in view along with what fits with a Christlike identity.

Again one’s former history is not his or her determinative history. Old characteristics have been set aside, and a new identity has been granted. Note the participationist categories. Believers are light in the Lord to the degree their identity is housed in and defined by His, in the sense of a new “geography.” Geography as identity is a truth evident more in Ephesians than anywhere.

In Ephesians 5:8 Paul blended the indicative and the imperative, as he often did in his epistles. The grace statement of identity comes first (v. 8a), but then we are called as believers to live out that identity (v. 8b). Faith is the act of living out the identity God says we have by grace. Then the imperative is a necessary component. Unless the identity is lived out, it is not real. “The fruit of the light consists in all goodness and righteousness and truth” (v. 9). The necessity of doing is a given. Doing emerges from an identity, and once this is understood, the faith-works dichotomy collapses. Some Christians have implied that they can act in ways totally separate from what they believe and know, which only reveals that they do not really believe what they say. Everywhere Scripture compels us to live in accord with the identity God gives us. We will work. The question is whether we will work in accord with faith or unbelief, in accord with our identity in Christ or from some other identity. The focus in 5:10, “trying to learn what is pleasing to the Lord,” is on discerning what pleases Him. Christian identity is an internal mind exercise, that internal self-interpreting memory, lived out in obedience to the Lord.

At several points the issue of participationist language has emerged. Such language speaks of being in Christ or in the Lord, quite possibly the most underappropriated of all aspects of the Christian faith. Participationist language means that union with Christ creates and communicates the identity that God intends and to which we are called. Two classic texts in Galatians help develop this thought.

GALATIANS 2:19–20

Galatians is largely an identity document answering the questions, Who are the true children of Abraham? How does one become a child of Abraham? Outsiders, who were Judaizers, came to Galatia and said in effect, “Your identity is in question. You are not good enough. You need to have a more Jewish identity to be a Christian. You need to look more like us.” Bonnard’s summary of the situation is insightful. He argues that the Galatian believers suffered from an inferiority complex and sought in the Law a means of heightening their divine sonship to a more impressive level. But baptism is the end of such religious and social supports. In baptism each person is stripped of any particular human dignity due him or her and is reclothed with the sole dignity of Christ.5 There is no reason for an inferiority complex, for no one is superior in Christ.

Several passages in Galatians 1–2 deserve notice for their relevance to the topic of identity. Possibly the most surprising identity statement is in 1:1 regarding Christ as distinguished from men. Paul spoke of himself as “not sent from men nor through the agency of man but through Jesus Christ and God the Father.” In 1:13–24 Paul described in quite personal terms an evaluation of his own history and its role in his identity. Verse 16 states that God “was pleased to reveal his Son in me.”6 A revelation transformed Paul’s identity at the core of his being. Galatians 2:1–10 is filled with identity issues: the identity of the gospel, of the false brothers, of those who seem to be something, boundary markers of mission, and of commitments such as freedom and the commitment to the poor. Then 2:11–14 treats the failure to live according to one’s identity (or what one claims as an identity), which is hypocrisy. It is the attempt to present an identity one does not really have.

Galatians 2:19–20 is a classic and foundational text on identity in Christ set in one of the most tightly worded and frequently debated theological statements in Paul’s writings, verses 15–21. The issues are about identity and identity markers, especially circumcision and other aspects of Law-keeping: “We are Jews by nature and not sinners from among the Gentiles” (v. 15). Verses 19–20 come close to being the paramount description of what faith in Christ means, but they also raise questions and are so profound it is difficult to take them in. Verse 19a is especially difficult. How is it that “through the Law” Paul “died to the law”? Is it because Christ became a curse for us because of the Law (3:13)? Or is it because of the Law’s cooperation in condemning us to death, as 3:22 and Romans 3:20 suggest? Or is it because of the Law’s role in actually cooperating with sin to cause death, as Romans 5:20; 7:10–13; and 8:2 suggest? The last seems most likely.

The most important reality is the focus in Galatians 2:19 on being cocrucified with Christ. This verse points to a oneness with Christ and participation with Him and in Him, which is the essential ingredient in Christianity. He died for us, but we died with Him, or His death is of no effect. When Paul wrote, “I have been crucified with Christ” (v. 20), he used the perfect tense of the verb “crucified.” This means that we do not leave our cocrucifixion behind. We stay crucified. It is a reality that stamps our lives. The identity of a Christian is that of a crucified person. The old being is not merely renewed. Resurrection is not mentioned in this verse, but it is obviously intended in Christ’s living in us. The focus is not on our being raised so that we get our self back. He is the one who was raised and lives in us.

Paul’s words in 2:20 are difficult to grasp: “I no longer live, but Christ lives in me” (NIV). Paul clearly was living, as is acknowledged in the words that follow: “The life which I now live in the flesh.” Christians are people who have been displaced from their own being, and if a person is not willing for this to happen, he or she cannot become a Christian. This is more than is described with language about mystical union with Christ. What can it mean to say, “I no longer live”? Is this too weird for “normal” people? No, humanity needs this disorientation from self and reorientation to God. As Volf wrote, “Paul presumes a centered self, more precisely a wrongly centered self that needs to be de-centered by being nailed to the cross.… the self is never without a center; it is always engaged in the production of its own center.”7 In dying with Christ and calling Him Lord we obtain a new center for the self. An obvious conclusion is that we no longer belong to ourselves (cf. 1 Cor. 6:19; 7:23a).

This death with Christ must be taken seriously, and obviously following Him means carrying a cross, as Jesus Himself said. But death, for all its importance, is not the key; life is. Life comes through death. Christianity affirms the conviction that God raises the dead, even people who are dead in sin. What does it mean to have been crucified with Christ? Paul’s primary concern is that we have cut off relations to our former way of life, to our own possession of our lives, and we have been cut off from any relationship or obligation to the Law so that we may live to God. That is the relationship that is alive and operative now. Later in 5:24 Paul wrote that those belonging to Christ “have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires.” Then in 6:14 Paul mentioned a double crucifixion: The world had been crucified to him and he to the world. This says that Paul’s relationship with Christ cut off any hold on his identity that these other realities had.

How can we do justice to what sounds paradoxical in 2:20? “I no longer live … the life which I now live in the flesh.”8 How can we do justice to the fact that all this is God’s work but not on passive subjects? How is the human will factored in?

e are engaged and active, even as it is the work of God. There is no way to separate God’s part from the human part; yet salvation is entirely the work of God in which we are entirely involved.

Galatians 2:19–20 is one of the few texts in Paul’s letters that speaks of Christ dwelling in a person. One of the most common ways to speak of conversion involves the language of “asking Jesus into your heart,” which is fine if people understand what that means. But two problems exist with this language. First, it is marginally biblical, especially in Paul’s writings. Only five times did Paul mention the idea of Christ being in a person,9 but 164 times he used ἐν χριστῷ (“in Christ”) or some equivalent expression.10 Not all these occurrences should be translated “in Christ,” since some carry other nuances, but many of them point to a solidarity, a union with Christ that exceeds what we think possible. The second problem with the language of asking Christ into one’s heart is that the dominant personality is the human and Christ is a minute player in life. The reality of life in Christ places much more focus on Christ as the environment in which we live and gives that new sense of geography reshaping identity.

But what did Paul mean when he said, “I live by faith [ἐν πίστει] of the Son of God”? How should the genitive “of the Son of God” be taken? The words are problematic for two reasons: first, the word πίστις can mean either “faith” or “faithfulness,” and second, the genitive may be objective (“faith in Christ,” as most translations take it) or subjective (“the faithfulness Christ showed in His death”).11 The same issue occurs in 2:16, which may be a Jewish Christian formula and which is summarized by verse 20. The debate on this expression has been extensive,12 and both sides are dogmatic, but several things are clear. Πίστις has a broad semantic range and includes loyalty, trust, fidelity, and faithfulness. Further, regardless of decisions about objective and subjective genitives, faith always involves a two-sided relationship; it involves trust in what or who has been found trustworthy. To say, “I have faith” is to say that something or someone has been found reliable and worthy of trust and loyalty. To say “I have faith in God” is not to say anything much about myself but rather to say God is a trustworthy God.13 Faith is not a mental exercise, as many people presume; rather in Paul’s theology faith is about being attached to Jesus and this necessarily involves His faithfulness.

Most importantly faith is not faith in an absent Jesus somewhere off in heaven about whom certain things might be true. Rather faith is attachment and obedience to a very present and risen Lord. Once again, if the Bible is understood correctly, the faith-works dichotomy evaporates. We have tried to guard people so much from works-righteousness, legalism, and hypocrisy that we have forgotten loyalty and obedience. Many believers do not think they need to obey. Paul certainly had no patience with the idea that believers can do something to present themselves to God. In this context “the works of Law” (v. 16) refers primarily to markers of Judaism, namely, circumcision, Sabbath-keeping, and food laws. That will not do justice to “works of law” generally, especially in Romans 4, but in Galatians these boundary markers are the main concern. Carrying out “the works of Law” primarily meant living as a Jew according to the Law. Paul could and did extrapolate from this so that nothing we do presents us to God, but our traditional contrast between faith and works was not on his mind. Paul’s point was that believers get the identity they need from Christ, not from the Law. Following the Law does not make a person a child of Abraham.

Does this text have implications for doing, for how one lives? It is foolish even to ask the question. Doing is not discussed here, but can we imagine that Christ lives in someone, takes over that life, and that the person would do nothing?

GALATIANS 3:26–4:7

This passage again underscores that Christian identity is found in a far-reaching union with Christ. Comparison with other Pauline texts (Rom. 6:1–2; 13:14; 1 Cor. 7:17–24; 12:12–13; Eph. 4:22–24; and Col. 2:11–14; 3:9–11) suggests that Galatians 3:27–28 is a pre-Pauline baptismal formula. Paul could have been responsible for the origin of all these texts, but either way these texts reveal foundational thinking about baptism and the meaning of Christian faith.

Galatians 3:26–4:7 is an explicit and powerful identity passage beginning with the statement in verse 26, “You are all children of God through faith in [or through the faithfulness in] Christ Jesus” (author’s translation). The same issues of understanding faith in 2:16 and 20 reappear here. Many argue Paul does not use πίστις ἐν (which occurs in 3:26) to express faith in Christ. I would argue that there are a few such places (e.g., Eph. 1:15; Col. 1:4) and this may be one of them, but if faith is undertood properly, it does not really matter. Being “baptized into Christ” (3:27) is a commentary on having faith. To have faith is to be plunged into Christ, to be taken out of oneself and into Him so much that it is as if a person puts Christ on as clothes (3:27). Christ is the believer’s environment. In 4:19 the imagery focuses instead on Christ being formed in people. Being a Christian means that we are conformed to Christ both inwardly and outwardly. Regardless of the imagery, once again the identity of the person is taken over by the identity of Christ.

The result is the most explosive sociological passage ever written. “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female” (3:28). Distinctions are not set aside. Distinctions still exist but valuations do not. “You all are one in Christ Jesus” (v. 28b), but it is in Christ Jesus that people are one.14 Christianity in its Pauline and Johannine forms is expressed with participationist language. The Christian has so close an identification with Christ that he or she is part of Him, is in Him, remains in Him, is one with Him, and is one with others who are in Him. Since they belong to Christ, they are the seed of Abraham and heirs of God’s promises. A person does not become a child of Abraham by Jewish descent or religious observance of regulations in the Law regarding separation from Gentiles. If this were the case, all Paul’s work among the Gentiles was useless. Torah regulations could never provide for unity among Christians, and even if Gentiles became proselytes by accepting circumcision and keeping the rules, they would always be second-class citizens. A person does not become a child of God by becoming a child of Abraham; instead he or she becomes a child of Abraham (a spiritual descendant of Abraham) by becoming a child of God by faith (cf. Rom. 4:1–25).

The main actor in Galatians 4:1–7 is God. God is the one who sent both His Son and the Spirit, and through whom Christians are heirs, and who reveals Himself as Abba, Father. God is engaged in the task of creating a people to live in relationship with Him. Christians are a people whom God has made His own family. There is a direct parallel with the parable of the prodigal son in that identity is given by the Father’s actions and people are instated or reinstated as sons and heirs by the Father’s actions. We are children of God only by virtue of being in His Son.

This identity of necessity changes relationships. The claim is often made that 3:28 is a soteriological statement and has nothing to do with social issues. The text supposedly speaks coram Deo, “before God,” and does not impact issues of ethnicity, slavery, and gender. Some suggest Paul meant these words only partly. But neither view can stand. A social issue—eating with Gentiles—was the problem addressed. Far from being a statement about which Paul was uncertain, this is his basic summary of what it means to be a Christian. This is verified as well by the climactic positioning of each of these statements, particularly 3:28, which is the center or climax of the letter to the Galatians. It stands as a hinge between 3:7–25 and 4:1–7, particularly since both sections focus on the change that has taken place with the coming of faith.

Paul’s point is that faith in Christ has effected a new status (children of God) and a new existence (incorporation into Christ). The image of Christians as the body of Christ is im

ncient Near East to form a sufficient background for the cosmic imagery; (3) the text itself does not appear to support an animal peace theme. The imagery instead points to a deep sense of safety and security for Israel.

“Reborn Participants in Christ: Recovering the Importance of Union with Christ in 1 Peter,” Sean Christensen, Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 61, no. 2 (June 2018): 339–55. Following the work of Adolf Deissmann, much has been made of Paul’s concept of union with Christ. Christensen believes this concept is not only prominent but foundational in 1 Peter as he describes “Peter’s emphasis on union with Christ as a foundation for imitatio Christi ethics.” Christensen sees this emphasis occurring via prepositional, participatory language and in the metaphorical language of temple and rebirth. This theme helps Peter’s readers root their identities as Christians in the suffering and glory of Christ, while providing ethical guidance as well.

“Paul’s V

Christ

Rival forms of Christian faith put something or someone else besides Christ at the center of our self-understanding of our identity. For cultural Christianity, that may be our nation, personal hero, political party, or even denominational affiliation. Modernist Christianity limits Christ’s lordship by placing science or the state or cultural trends in the place of final authority on life and faith. Only confessional Christianity retains Christ’s sovereign and comprehensive lordship over all things—starting with the foundational question of one’s identity.

The Protestant Reformation reminded Christians that Christ alone is the starting point of our identity. But it is easy to think you’re placing Christ at the foundation of your identity while, in reality, you’re actively orienting your life around something or someone other than Christ. Kuyper’s own conversion story reminds us that we must continually strive to place all of who we are at the feet of Jesus, the Lord of all, and work out the implications from there. There is an endless list of contenders that we must be on the lookout for and ready to ward off. True life is found only where Christ is Lord of all that I am.

Faith

Cultural Christianity turns a living and dynamic faith into a frozen relic of the past. Faithfulness is achieved by trying to turn the clock back to a previous, idealized time. Modernist Christianity turns faith into a form of inclusive, no-questions-asked niceness and places its faith in scientific, political, and cultural developments.

In contrast, confessional Christianity understands that, since Jesus is Lord of all things, discipleship seeks to apply, in each generation or cultural moment, the historic and comprehensive claims of Jesus as found in Scripture afresh. Having discerned the gospel for the here-and-now, confessional Christianity aims to articulate and embody the gospel in every sphere of human life. This is the faithful response to the comprehensive lordship of Christ.

But a perennial temptation is to compartmentalize life and assign Christ’s lordship—and our faithful response to him—to only the “religious” or “spiritual” or “ethical” aspects of human life. We may acknowledge and worship Christ on Sundays or in other “church” activities but all too easily slip into carrying on like everyone else in the rest of our lives as if the living Christ was not present. But this arrangement limits Christ’s lordship and denies his sovereignty.

Scripture

For cultural Christianity, Scripture inspires our pious devotion to Jesus and the fellowship of the church which are conceived of as retreats from the world because of its brokenness and fallenness. All assumptions about the Christian life are limited to the four walls of the church building because it has been decided that this is the realm of life that Christ is truly concerned with. Modernist Christianity celebrates Scripture as inspiring our sense of belonging to a common human family and reminds us to build an affirming, inclusive, and reconciling community with and for others. But Scripture is rarely read as a prophetic critique of our cultural assumptions and the maintenance of a middle class (or higher) lifestyle.

Confessional Christianity understands Scripture as the inspired and, therefore, authoritative revelation of God for all of life. Scripture is that word of God which places us coram Deo, before the face of God, in every moment of life. In this way, Scripture points us to Jesus’ lordship over every aspect of life. And this is how Scripture forms a Christian worldview in the believer: by refusing to compartmentalize life before the God who created everything in and for Christ. Everything—from parasites to prime ministers and presidents—finds its proper place within God’s multi-dimensional creation. Scripture reveals the theological structure of creation and discloses to us the norms which govern human activity. Being instructed by Scripture, there is no part of life where we are free from the normative nature of God’s creation and our place in it.

Church

For cultural Christianity, the church is a sanctuary, a retreat, or a bunker in a fallen and rebellious world that threatens our holiness. For Modernist Christianity, the church is a time-bound historical manifestation of God’s compassion and justice in humanity’s evolution which has now, since the Enlightenment, been given over into the hands of scientific, political, and cultural machinery. In either case, the church either monopolizes life or is an entirely optional accessory for which only a few may still have an interest.

For confessional Christianity, the church is that community of Christ’s followers who worship and glorify him as Lord in the church and in the world through social engagement. The church is not a defensive bunker that we take shelter in from the world; rather, it is the launching pad from which God’s people are sent into the world to bear witness to Christ and to be his salt and light in a dark and decaying world. The church is that community in the world where people are born again, shaped into loyal kingdom citizens, and discipled to be agents of reconciliation.

In these ways, Kuyper’s discovery of the lordship of Christ over his identity profoundly shaped him as a person and sent his life on a trajectory of service. Taking his experience as an example, now the question comes to us: Is Jesus Lord in our lives, in our church, in our home, in our business, in everything?

ou are Peter,” you is emphatic, emphasizing Peter’s role.

4. The “rock” refers to Peter as the leader and spokesman (foundation stone) of the disciples. Just as Peter had revealed the true identity of Christ, so Jesus revealed Peter’s identity and role. While apostolic succession cannot be found in this context or in any of the epistles, Peter’s role as a leader and spokesman of the church must not be discounted. This view has an element from number two in that Peter is the forerunner because he is the one who received the revelation of insight and faith concerning Christ’s identity, and Peter is the first one who confessed Christ.

The word “church” (ekklesia) is found in the Gospels only in Matthew, but the concept is found throughout all four Gospels. Jesus’ words reveal that there would be a definite interim period between his death and second coming—the “church age.” “Church” means “the called-out people of God.” Peter’s individual authority became clear in the book of Acts as he became the spokesman for the disciples and for the Christian community. Peter, as the spokesman, became the foundation stone of all believers who would “build” Christ’s church.

Later, Peter reminded Christians that they were the church built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Jesus Christ as the cornerstone (1 Peter 2:4–8; see also 1 Corinthians 3:11). All believers are joined into this church by faith in Jesus Christ as Savior, the same faith that Peter expressed here (see also Ephesians 2:20–21; Revelation 21:14). True believers like Peter regard their faith as a revelation from God and are willing to confess him publicly. Jesus praised Peter for his confession of faith. Faith like Peter’s is the foundation of Christ’s kingdom.

“And the

US AND A HERMENEUTICS OF IDENTITY*

Klyne R. Snodgrass

FOR A SOCIETY IN WHICH MANY PEOPLE have no idea who they are and many more find their identity in their possessions, their sports team, or their job, the church needs to focus on identity. We need to analyze and research identity, of individuals, of societies, of churches, and of our own selves, and we need to understand how directly the gospel of Jesus Christ conveys a message about identity. This is the intent of a hermeneutics of identity. To call a text “Christian Scripture” is to say “it functions to shape persons’ identities so decisively as to transform them.”1 Scripture tells us who we are and how we should live because of our identity. David Kelsey in fact suggested regarding seminary curricula, “Except for basic language courses, courses in all subjects could address two questions: Who are we? and How is our communal identity best nurtured and best kept under critical scrutiny?”2

A hermeneutics of identity will be aware that the text is about identity, will keep seeking from specific texts in Scripture insight into the identity God desires and gives, and will both seek and allow transformation of identity with every reading. This is not a passive hermeneutic.

Possibly some will think the focus on identity is simplistic or implied in what we already do. This is not true. Identity itself is complex, and too many Christians have little idea of who they are supposed to be. Thus the church needs to focus on a hermeneutics of identity.

Nor is it true that a hermeneutics of identity will lead to self-centeredness. Rightly understood, a biblical hermeneutics of identity excludes self-centeredness and all attempts at ego enhancement. The quest for honor in the ancient Mediterranean world is well known,3 a quest that Jesus’ disciples assumed legitimate. Repeatedly their concern was who among them was the greatest (Matt. 18:1–5; 20:20–28). This quest for honor was an attempt to get the community to assign value that could be appropriated by the internal self-interpreting memory and translated into self-esteem. The identity that one should be pursuing is the exact opposite of self-glorification, for one’s true identity is not found merely in one’s self. A person’s identity is not merely about him or her; it is about that person in relation with and for people and with and for God. In fact this reorientation is precisely what conversion is about. Conversion is about one’s identity, and conversion is about rewritten autobiographies.

In the previous article I described eight factors I think make up human identity, all of which are addressed repeatedly in Scripture.4 In addition the identity of God, of Jesus Christ, and of God’s people is continually the subject at hand. Apart from the poetic books, especially Psalms and Job, most of the Old Testament tends to be less focused on the identity of the individual and more on the identity of the people of Israel. The New Testament addresses the individual more directly but never in isolation from the community. A hermeneutics of identity is at home with the Gospels’ presentation of Jesus’ life and teaching. Jesus was concerned to help people know who they were, in view of what God was doing through Jesus’ own ministry.

Jesus is the revelation of God, but He is also the revelation of the character a human is to possess. The Incarnation accomplishes both avenues of revelation. He is the paramount revelation of the image of God.

THE GOSPELS AS IDENTITY DOCUMENTS

In reality people must answer only one question: Who are you? All else is determined by the answer to that question. People frequently came to Jesus and asked, “What must I do?” Jesus, in effect, answered, “Who are you? When you know that, you will know what you must do.” This comment, which I read somewhere long ago, was the origin of my focus on a hermeneutics of identity, although at the time I did not know it, nor did I grasp the significance of this statement, but I never forgot it.

Like all the New Testament writings, the Gospels are identity documents. They seek to map out and convey an identity, to demonstrate what it means to believe in and follow Jesus. If we ask about the purpose of the Gospels, the answer is that the Gospels are intended to form and instruct disciples, that is, the Gospels are focused on the identity of the disciples. The Gospels more often assume the identity of God revealed in the Old Testament than they explain that identity. And the Gospels focus repeatedly on Jesus’ identity. In fact it would not be difficult to use the eight factors composing identity to write a book on the identity of Jesus. Much of the focus on Jesus’ identity is explicit. One thinks immediately of the questions, “Who do people say that I am?” and, “Who do you say that I am?” (Mark 8:27, 29), or the affirmation of the centurion at the cross, “Truly this man was the Son of God” (15:39). Even with regard to Jesus, His identity is a social construct, but the primary witness of Jesus’ identity is not that of humans but that of the Father, a point made repeatedly in the Fourth Gospel (e.g., John 5:30–40). Similar is the frequent question in the Fourth Gospel about Jesus’ origin (e.g., 7:27–28). The assumption is that to know Jesus’ origin is to know His identity. The first chapter of John is instructive. By the end of that chapter every Christological title of any significance has been applied to Jesus. One knows His origin, what He does, His significance, and His relationship to both God and people. The implication of His identity is also clear; people should come to Him and follow Him. Focusing on the identity of Jesus is not for the purpose of acquiring abstract knowledge. In understanding who He is people understand who they are. Identity is a dialogical construct.

IDENTITY IN MATTHEW

In the Gospel of Matthew identity issues spring from almost every page. Immediately we are told about Jesus’ genealogy. He is part of a larger story, the story of God’s work with Israel. As frequently recognized, Jesus took on the task of Israel to accomplish the purposes of God.5 Already we can anticipate that discipleship will mean being “inserted” into the story of Jesus, who is part of the story of Israel.6 Identity is a narrative construct, but individual narratives are always part of larger narratives. We think of the narratives of families, cultures, and countries, but for Christians the dominant narrative is that of Jesus and His ongoing work. Jesus’ role in Israel is underscored with the name Immanuel, “God with us” (Matt. 1:21), a name taken from Isaiah 7:14 and epitomized by the temple. At the end of His ministry Jesus vowed His continuing presence with His people until the end of the age (Matt. 28:20). The fulfillment of prophecy also underscores Jesus’ role in God’s purposes for Israel.

The implicit question in the birth narratives is, Who is the real king in Palestine: Herod or this new infant (2:2–3)? John the Baptist identified Pharisees and Sadducees as snakes (3:7) and told the people, in effect, “Do not think your identity is children of Abraham; God can raise up children of Abraham from these stones” (3:9). Physically they were children of Abraham, but they assumed that their spiritual identity was guaranteed by physical origin, an assumption rejected by Old Testament prophets, Jesus, and Paul. While the narrative into which we are placed contributes to our identity, identity cannot be inherited; it must be formed and lived.

At Jesus’ baptism a voice from heaven—the voice of God the Father—asserted Jesus’ identity: “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased” (3:17). The temptation of Jesus related to His identity: “If you are the Son of God, command that these stones become bread,” in effect, “Prove your identity” (4:3). Jesus’ calling of Simon and Andrew gave them a new relationship, a new task, and with it a new identity; they would become fishers of people (4:19).

The Sermon on the Mount is largely an identity document showing what it means to be a disciple. Statements about the character and the intent of the beatitudes often fail to do justice to them. People debate whether the beatitudes effect what they announce, whether they refer to present or future eschatology or both, and just how μακάριοι (“blessed”) should be understood. The beatitudes and the Sermon as a whole are not law, but as W. D. Davies said, they are the bright light of the gospel.7 They are both a declaration of the kingdom and a call. With the allusion to Isaiah 61:1–3 in the beatitudes concerning the poor in spirit and those who mourn, the presence of the kingdom is implied, just as in other texts that allude to Isaiah 61 (Matt. 11:5; Luke 4:18–21; 7:22).

Dallas Willard is wrong in saying the beatitudes are not to be lived,8 which is obvious if one considers the beatitudes of hungering for righteousness, mercy, purity of heart, peacemaking, and being persecuted. Who could think Jesus does not want these descriptions to be realities? The beatitudes are identity markers of those conscious of and shaped by the kingdom. Matthew rethreaded the themes of the beatitudes throughout his Gospel.9 The beatitudes are like a table of contents for Matthew’s Gospel, which shows just how seriously they should be taken. The beatitudes are then followed by further identity statements: “You are the salt of the earth.… You are the light of the world” (Matt. 5:13–14).

The descriptions of disciples as salt and light are not hyperbole or wishful thinking, and obviously the descriptions are true only because of the disciples’ relationship to Jesus. The descriptions enlist disciples into this identity; they are the equivalent of performative language.10

If we reflect further on the beatitudes and the factors that make up identity that were presented in the first article, the beatitudes relate especially to the internal self-interpreting memory, which Scripture often refers to by the word “heart.” “Blessed are the poor in spirit” and “blessed are the meek” both have to do with the rejection of arrogance and the realization of the need for God. The first beatitude, “poor in spirit,” is an allusion to Isaiah 61:1, as mentioned earlier, and the third, with reference to “the meek,” alludes to Psalm 37:11. What often goes unnoticed because two different Greek words are used in Matthew—πτωχοί and πραεῖς—is that these two Old Testament texts use the same Hebrew word for “the poor” (עֲנָוִים), at times almost a title for God’s people, that is, those who need God’s intervention and know it.

Several other beatitudes also deal with the internal self-interpreting memory. “Hungering and thirsting for righteousness,” “merciful,” “pure with respect to the heart,” and “peacemakers” urge that in the deepest controlling, valuing, and organizing part of our identity there must be honesty, good will, and desire for good relations both with God and with people, not self-deception, malice, and violation of boundaries. This raises the crucial question of how we address and change our internal, self-interpreting memory to achieve purity of heart when the very thing we want to change is in control of the change. Self-deception is the most prevalent human ailment. As Blaise Pascal put it, “Our own interest is again a marvelous instrument for nicely putting out our eyes.”11 What will allow us to be honest, to see, and to change? Clearly the work of the Spirit is required, but no simple answer will suffice. The whole of Jesus’ teaching is geared to confront and rearrange a person’s thinking about identity. Also the community has a role in the formation of individual identity as it engages, confronts, and teaches. Jesus’ teaching and the community both confront and encourage internal change.

In the previous article I said with regard to the first factor concerning identity, namely, our physical and psychological characteristics, that some parts are given and some are chosen. We are born with innate tendencies, but we also learn to enhance or curtail tendencies. We choose what will guide us and whether we will control anger and desire and other tendencies. The assumption of Jesus’ teaching is that the identity He described is the identity people should have, what God intended from the beginning, and that if people see that identity, they will want to choose and can choose that identity and by God’s grace grow into it. Yes, we all feel we fall short of the Sermon on the Mount, and rightly so, but its purpose is not to make us feel this ideal is impossible. It is to hold this model up for emulation, to say this is the model one should choose.

The history of the interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount is depressing. People spend more time arguing why we should not or cannot keep the Sermon on the Mount than seeking to understand it and live it.12 Is the Sermon an impossible ideal, too difficult for mere humans? What is difficult is a life of sin. Too many people, Christians included, think that a life of sin is easy and a righteous life is impossible. Seneca (4 B.C.–A.D. 65), like other philosophers, asserted, “The road to the happy life is an easy one. The maintenance of all virtues is easy, but it is costly to cultivate the vices.”13 If a Roman philosopher understood that, surely Christians have better reasons to come to the same conclusion. Jesus held up the ethical qualities He did because they embody what life should be and they enable true living. The Sermon is not too hard.

If we consider the kind of people described in the Sermon on the Mount, the type of community promoted by such people is attractive. This would be a community where people not only did not murder but controlled their feelings toward others as well; where men not only did not commit adultery but also did not lust or treat women merely as sexual objects; where people kept their marriage vows, told the truth, did not retaliate, and even loved their enemies. Imagine such a community where people did not use religion as a means of self-promotion and were not controlled by desire for money, the themes of Matthew 6.

This is not a utopian idea, and the Sermon is not intended merely to convict of sin. This is the identity to which Jesus called His disciples and the kind of community Christians should form. Both Matthew and Jesus not only thought this is possible, but they believed this is precisely what you need to know about discipleship, what God wants, and what you can do, which is the reason Matthew placed it in his Gospel as the first recorded teaching of Jesus. Matthew thought that if one understood this ethical call, one would want to follow Jesus and would understand the rest of the story more easily.

How can such a community come into being? In 5:44–45 disciples are instructed, “Love your enemies … so that you may be children of your Father who is in heaven.” We blanch at the idea of performance, fearing that it is works righteousness, but neither Matthew nor Jesus was worried about works righteousness. Their concern was much more the failure of righteousness. The theology at work here is that humans are to take their character from God, which is the consistent teaching of Scripture. If our heavenly Father loves His enemies, can we do less? To be a child of God means to be characterized by Him. God’s people take their identity from His, for humans were created in the image of God. Matthew 5:44–48 is an identity text that keeps being, thinking, and doing together. Performance and identity are directly linked. You cannot be without doing. Identity is shown by action. By obedience we live into an identity we have from God. This is not performance on our own; it is performance as God’s children. As unfolded in Matthew 7:15–27, good fruit comes from good trees. This too is about identity, and true followers are those who hear and do. Doing demonstrates identity.

The Sermon on the Mount is not legalism, and its purpose is not to convict people of their sins. The Sermon tells people who they are to be and what they are to do. Other sayings of Jesus in Matthew make the same points: “Whoever does the will of My Father who is in heaven is My brother and sister and mother” (12:50). “You hypocrites, rightly did Isaiah prophesy of you: ‘This people honors Me with their lips but their heart [their true identity] is far away from Me’ ” (15:7–8).

The call to discipleship is clearly a call for a new identity, and this is evidenced as much as anywhere in the classic statement on discipleship in Matthew 16:24. To deny self is to refuse to let one’s own identity be determinative in order to be redefined by the character and life of Jesus. In effect Jesus told His disciples to give up on their own identity and to take His, which involves carrying a cross, the willingness to die.14 We find life by losing it. Relations, especially family relations, are crucial aspects of our identity. In our society possessions are also given a huge role in evaluating one’s identity, a role that is false and artificial. What is clear in discussions of discipleship is that these two arenas, family relations and possessions, are the biggest obstacles—and therefore the biggest opportunities—for discipleship. Luke 14:25–26, 33 are most obvious in this regard;15 no one is able to be Jesus’ disciple who loves family more than following Him and who is not willing to say good-bye to possessions. One’s ultimate defining force for identity is following Jesus, and bearing one’s cross, not having family, possessions, or any other factor. As Jesus pointed out elsewhere (Matt. 15:3–9), this does not obviate responsibility to family.

IDENTITY IN SELECTED PARABLES

Jesus sought and still seeks to change identity, and when we pay attention to this, texts take on deeper contours. Especially revealing is the parable of the two sons and the compassionate father, more commonly known as the parable of the prodigal son. If identity is composed of, among other things, relations, commitments, and boundaries, Luke 15:11–32 (a double indirect parable mirroring God’s forgiveness and challenging attitudes of the “righteous”) is a model for a hermeneutics of identity.16 The parable starts with identities in relationships and assumes the freedom of those identities to make choices, even bad ones, but choices have consequences. The prodigal, like so many today, thought identity is enhanced by possessions and life without boundaries. Then, as Volf says, the prodigal attempts to “unson” himself.17 He wants to change his geography, his commitments, his actions, his relations, and his boundaries. After losing all his possessions he finds himself in a far country where it is quite clear that he does not belong. He makes alliances that do not fit his identity and performs actions that are degrading. This is not who he is. Then in one of the most striking and insightful comments ever the text says, “He came to himself” (v. 17), implying that sin is the inability or the refusal to live in accord with one’s true identity. Sin is fracture, fragmentation, including fragmentation from and within ourselves. All of us are bifurcated by the refusal to affirm the reality of our true identity. The prodigal finally understood his true identity. He was a son of his father. The truth allows us to come to ourselves; only there do we know who we are. But the prodigal decided he was not worthy of his own identity, and so he chose something less (v. 19). He chose to be a hired hand, but his identity was not that of a hired hand. He was a son. Grace lets us be who we are supposed to be even though we do not deserve to. Grace enables truth.

God’s identity is also mirrored in the text. God is the gracious one, always compassionate and receptive. His identity and relationships to humans determine their identity. With his embrace the father verified the son’s identity. The father insisted on the son’s identity as a son and commanded the servants to recognize him as such by giving him appropriate clothes, a ring, and sandals, in celebrating his return. Worthy of celebration, he was revived, recovered, and restored as a son to his father. Volf’s emphasis on the willingness to embrace even one’s enemies is drawn from the father’s action in the parable.

Issues of identity also drive the second stage of the parable. The elder brother showed himself to be suspicious of joy, and to be jealous and judgmental. He rejected the identity of his brother, calling him “this son of yours” (v. 30) and sought to exclude any relationship with him. But the fath

TITY IN JOHN

John 3:6 underscores a new origin and a new identity for those reborn by the Spirit: “That which is born of the flesh is [has the character of] flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is [has the character of] Spirit.” The focus on the identity of Jesus and His followers is perhaps stronger in John than anywhere else in the New Testament. Identity is unfolded in an interesting way in this Gospel’s use of μένειν, “to remain, to stay.” We are not surprised to read the witness of John the Baptist, presumably at Jesus’ baptism, that he saw the Spirit descending and remaining on Jesus (1:32–33). This one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit was therefore recognized as the Son of God. But an interesting exchange, seemingly mundane but not mundane, is recorded in verses 38–39. When Jesus saw two disciples of John following Him, He asked them, “What are you seeking?”—which is itself an identity question. They responded, “Rabbi … where are You staying?” or more literally, “Where are You remaining?” Jesus merely responded, “Come and you will see,” and they came and saw where He was remaining and they remained with Him that day. The theme of “remaining” runs throughout John’s Gospel and is important theologically. Sometimes the word is used in a mundane way. For example Jesus stayed (remained) two days in a Samaritan village (4:40). A number of uses are like this, but as the Gospel reveals later, where Jesus really remains is with the Father, and His disciples are to remain there with Him.

Along the way other aspects of the theme of remaining are seen. God’s Word should remain in people (5:38), and they should seek nourishment from the Son of Man “which endures [remains] to eternal life” (6:27). In 6:56, without preparation, suddenly the message is that the person who eats Jesus’ flesh and drinks His blood remains in Him and He remains in that person. The thought is close to Paul’s participationist terms of being in Christ. One of the steps leading to my focus on a hermeneutics of identity was this thought of being in or remaining in Christ. Struggling with this thought led to the statement “geography is identity.” Whether one lives in Christ or lives elsewhere forms identity. In 12:46 Jesus referred to living in darkness.

John 8:31–32 states that not only should the Word remain in people but also people should remain in Jesus’ Word. By remaining—strikingly—they find freedom. Jesus’ Word remains in them, they become disciples, know the truth, and the truth frees them (vv. 32–33).

In John 14:10 the foundational idea appears. Jesus is in the Father, and the Father is in Him and remains in Him to do His works. In 14:17 the same Spirit who remained on Jesus is said to remain in the believer. Of course it is especially in chapter 15 that this theology of identity comes to full expression. Jesus is the vine, the Father is the gardener, and disciples are the branches who are to remain in Jesus as He remains in them. This geography creates an identity that produces. Identity is not an abstract notion. It is always embodied, and it always acts. The only question is what kind of identity is present and active. This is reinforced in 15:9–10. Remaining in Jesus is the equivalent of remaining in His love (v. 9), and one remains in His love by keeping (obeying) His commands just as Jesus kept the commands of God the Father and remains in His love (v. 10). Again the focus on identity leads directly to performance. Identity must act, and only in acting is identity revealed. People do what they are.

Being in Christ is a reality, even if it cannot be understood literally. In terms of identity this language expresses several important points. The focus is clearly on a close relationship to Jesus, a relationship so close that it transforms one’s identity. This occasions no surprise, since relations are one of the key components in identity anyway. The image of being in Christ also has to do with commitments and boundaries. If one is in Christ, the commitments of Christ expressed in His Word and His commands become the commitments of that person, and Christ’s approach to boundaries—both boundaries rejected and boundaries not violated—become the approach of the person as well. A direct parallel to these thoughts is evident in John 10 with Jesus as the Good Shepherd whose sheep hear His voice, know Him, and follow Him.

CONCLUSION

What can be learned from Jesus about identity? Several accounts show that action—doing—is closely related to identity. One cannot be without doing. If we seek to define ourselves, we cannot describe being abstractly; we can only speak of location, relations, thinking (especially evaluations), and actions. These are topics Jesus addressed to help people understand who they are to be. His concern is identity, and ours should be as well.

A hermeneutics of identity urges the integration of faith and life. Too frequently issues of faith, although much discussed, are foreign to our being. Unfortunately we often tear apart thinking and acting. In doing so, we compartmentalize faith into something we think but which does not flow authentically from us. Actions, if they occur, are too frequently artificial and not true expressions of who we are. We wear faith as a form but do not know its transforming power. Authenticity is lost. Humans always have the ability to deceive themselves in their internal self, often because of some thought of self-defense; so convincing ourselves of the validity of a hermeneutics of identity will not insure authenticity. Still, a hermeneutics of identity offers an opportunity for us not to be foreign to ourselves and even to confront our own self-deception as we become schooled in what makes identity and how it functions.

One of the biggest problems with many Christians is their misunderstanding of faith and works. Obedience even takes on a negative connotation, but what is quite clear from Jesus’ teaching (and the rest of Scripture) is that action—works—are absolutely essential. You will work; the only question is, From what identity will you work?

The other obvious fact in looking at Jesus’ teaching is that it is Jesus Himself, His compassion, His obedience to the will of the Father, and especially His willingness to give Himself, the willingness to die, which deserves an ultimate defining force in believers’ lives. His lack of self-seeking insures that a focus on identity is not about self-centeredness.

Søren Kierkegaard offered a prayer that is a fitting response to Jesus’ teaching and call: “And now, with God’s help, I shall become myself.”24

THE APPLICATIO

ul’s self-understanding was grounded in his salvation identity (who he was in Christ) before it was based on his service identity (what he did in ministry).

Paul’s identity in Christ stabilized his internal security. If we hope to keep our internal security as preachers, we must make sure our sense of identity comes from our salvation rather than our service.

MISPLACED IDENTITY

All this might sound rather basic and obvious to those of us who preach the gospel. Of course our salvation identity comes prior to our service identity. However, ministry has a way of getting us to subtly shift our focus. Without realizing it, we begin to find our primary identity in our ministry service. And as we do, we start to struggle with our internal security. The feedback we receive suddenly looms larger in our thinking. Compliments become overly important to us; critiques become disproportionally devastating. Preaching becomes a way to prove ourselves.

There’s a poignant scene in the movie Chariots of Fire where Harold Abrahams speaks of the fear that drives him as a sprinter. As he prepares for the 100-meter finals, he tells a teammate: “In one hour’s time I will be out there again. I will raise my eyes and look down that corridor, four feet wide, with ten lonely seconds to justify my whole existence. But will I?”

When our primary identity gets wrapped up in our performance as preachers, we start to think like Harold Abrahams. We step up to the platform, raise our eyes and look over the congregation, with thirty lonely minutes to justify our existence—if not to others, at least to ourselves. What a terribly insecure way to live.

But the damage runs deeper than just our own internal sense of security. If we get the order reversed—finding our primary identity in our service for Christ rather than our salvation in Christ—we actually become dangerous in ministry. Instead of preaching to meet the needs of others, we preach to meet our own needs—our insatiable thirst for affirmation and validation. We also become tempted to modify our message to sustain the approval of our audience. In a sense, we become parasitic preachers, living off the very sheep we were called to serve.

INTERNALLY SECURE

Back in my university days, God began to teach me the importance of finding my primary identity in my salvation rather than my service. I had been asked to emcee a large concert on campus. The thought of messing up in front of my peers paralyzed me as I prepared my remarks. A friend stopped by my room and sensed my inner agitation. He wondered why I was so anxious, and I told him about my fears of speaking at the concert. “What would happen if you do a terrible job?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he persisted: “Really, what if things go badly?” Annoyed, I told him I didn’t even want to think about that possibility.

He finally left but I couldn’t escape his questions. They kept replaying in my head. What would I do if things went south? How would I handle it? In that moment, God’s Spirit graciously came to my rescue, giving me an insight that changed my entire perspective. I still remember the sentence that brought clarity and peace to my troubled heart: “I don’t serve the Lord so he will love me more; I serve him because he couldn’t love me more.” In other words, my salvation identity—being loved and saved by God’s grace—was to be the motivation for my service identity.

The next night at the concert, I stepped up to speak with a deep sense of peace. This inner security enabled me to do a better job than I would have done if I had remained uptight and tense.

I wish I could say this insight forever freed me from the tendency to find my identity in ministry performance. Honesty compels me to acknowledge the battle for internal security was not won on a single night. I continually must remind myself to find my identity in my salvation rather than my service. As I do, I’m much less apt to be deflated by critical feedback or inflated by commendation.

This side of heaven, I suspect most preachers will struggle when it comes to finding internal security. Like Paul, we will be stung by critical assessments. We will also relish heartfelt affirmations. However, as we find our primary source of identity in our salvation, our inner world will not fluctuate wildly based on the responses we receive. Our growing sense of inner security will both stabilize our souls and enable us to better serve Christ as preachers.

When it comes to feedback about our sermons, preachers who are married have a God-given source for honest, helpful input. That’s why, as we will see in the next chapter, to strengthen our souls we must listen to our closest ally.

21

LISTEN TO YOUR CLOSEST ALLY

King Solomon understood that an “excellent wife” was “far more precious than jewels” (Proverbs 31:10). Dietrich Bonhoeffer understood that too—even though he never married. When teaching his seminary students about preaching, he spoke of the priceless value of a wife’s sermon smarts: “The pastor has a right to know whether God’s word was audible in his sermons.… The task of the pastor’s wife is to perform this service. But the pastor must seek it!… Thank God if you have a wife who genuinely can criticize you!”1

Back in my seminary days, Don Sunukjian told us that after we’d served a church for five years, the only one who would be honest with us about our preaching was our wife. Sunukjian was right. After five years, the folks who can’t stand your preaching will be long gone. Most of the rest will have adjusted to you, appreciating your strengths and accepting your weaknesses. Not wanting to be hurtful—or thinking it’s useless anyway—they won’t be able or willing to give a constructive critique of your preaching. That’s why a wife who speaks the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15) proves so valuable for strengthening the hearts of those called to preach God’s Word.2

A WIFE’S PERSPECTIVE

What makes a wife’s perspective so valuable? Let me highlight three big reasons.

First, she sees life and hears sermons from

Dunn says that the ‘fulcrum point’ of Paul’s theology is Christ. He is responsible for a realignment of Paul’s heritage—God is now known through Christ; the righteousness of God is now related to Christ; Israel is expanded to incorporate all who believe in Christ; Christ is the key to understanding Scriptures (the veil is lifted when a person turns to Christ); Christianity is Christ—he is the thread running throughout; Christ inaugurates a whole new world; faith is now faith in Christ; salvation involves growing in conformity to Christ; and the church is the body of Christ.

The various suggestions that have been made concerning what constitutes the centrum Paulinum (justification, union with Christ, salvation history, Christ as the center of redemptive history, eschatology, reconciliation, the triumph of God) are, every one of them, important Pauline themes. Which of them should be adopted as the centrum Paulinum will no doubt continue to be debated. In respect to what may be deduced from Romans itself concerning this matter, note should be taken of the overwhelmingly theocentric nature of the letter (described in the section on ‘God the Father’ above). The gospel Paul expounds is the gospel of God in which the righteousness of God, the grace of God, and the love of God are revealed. God’s sovereign will is determinative in the matter of salvation as he exercises his divine prerogative to have mercy upon whom he will have mercy. God himself is the primary agent of salvation, and he effects it through the redemptive activity of his Son whom he put forward as the atoning sacrifice for sins. Accordingly, the focus of Paul’s exposition of God’s saving activity is upon the work of the Son. Perhaps it may be said, then, that, as far as Romans is concerned, the center, heart, and organizing principle of Pauline theology is the action of God through the person and work of Jesus Christ to deal with the effects of human sin, individually, communally, and cosmically. In brief, as far as Romans is concerned, the centrum Paulinum is the gospel of God comprehensively conceived.

Commentary

I. LETTER INTRODUCTION, 1:1–17

The introduction to Paul’s Letter to the Romans consists of two parts. The first part is the traditional greeting from the author to the recipients. In the case of Romans it is substantially longer than the greetings in Paul’s other letters. The second part is the traditional thanksgiving section in which the apostle informs his audience of his prayers for them and his longing to visit them, a visit he wants to make in order that he might have some ministry among them.

A. Greetings, 1:1–7

The format of the opening greeting of a Greek letter (as evidenced by the many letters found among the papyri recovered in Egypt in the first half of the twentieth century) was normally quite brief: ‘A to B, greeting’.1 Appropriately, when writing for a largely Gentile audience, Paul adopts this Greek form for his greeting.2 He employs the direct form of address (using the second person) in his greetings, which introduces a certain sense of intimacy. This is balanced, however, and especially so in Romans, by reference to his status (‘a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle’), indicating that the letter is a more official and serious communication.

The greeting formulae in Paul’s letters are generally enlarged and Christianized, as, for example, in 1 Thessalonians 1:1: ‘Paul, Silas and Timothy, to the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace and peace to you’. Sometimes the content of the greeting provides hints of what might be expected in the body of the letter. For example, in his greeting in 1 Corinthians 1:1–3 Paul emphasizes that he was ‘called to be an apostle … by the will of God’ and addresses his letter ‘to the church of God in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be his holy people, together with all those everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ—their Lord and ours’. By doing so he foreshadows the fact that he will be defending his apostleship, while reminding the Corinthian believers that they are called to be holy and that they are but a part of a wider Christian community and therefore need to follow the rules Paul lays down for all his churches (cf. 1 Cor. 7:17; 11:16; 14:33–34).

The greeting in Romans is much fuller than either that in 1 Thessalonians or 1 Corinthians and is unique among the greetings in Paul’s letters, in particular because of its length and theological density. The content of the greeting can be set out as follows:

A. Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus,

called to be an apostle

and set apart for the gospel of God—

the gospel he promised beforehand

through his prophets

in the Holy Scriptures

regarding his Son,

who was a descendant of David,

as to his earthly life

and who was appointed the Son of God in power

through the Spirit of holiness

by his resurrection from the dead:

Jesus Christ our Lord.

Through him we received grace and apostleship

to call to the obedience that comes from faith

all the Gentiles.

for his name’s sake,

And you also are among those Gentiles who are called to belong to

Jesus Christ.

B. To all in Rome who are loved by God and called to be his holy people:

C. Grace and peace to you

from God our Father

and from the Lord Jesus Christ.

From this layout it can be seen that the greeting has the three basic elements of standard Greek epistolary greetings (A: ‘Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ …’; B: ‘to all in Rome who are loved by God …’; C: Greeting: ‘grace and peace to you …’). The first element (‘Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ …’) is greatly expanded so that Paul can introduce himself as ‘called to be an apostle’ and ‘set apart for the gospel of God’. This gospel God promised beforehand through his prophets and it concerns his Son. The Son is then described as a descendant of David (his human lineage) and the Son of God with power (by divine appointment). It is from the Son of God that Paul has received his call and the grace enabling him to be an apostle, in particular an apostle to the Gentiles. His Roman Gentile audience, he insists, are included among those for whom he has been appointed an apostle.

The second element of the greeting (‘to all in Rome who are loved by God …’) is brief and contains no expressions of endearment or honor often found in Greek letters (as, e.g., in Titus. 1:4; Philem. 1–2), nor any veiled rebuke (as in the case of 1 Cor. 1:2). This can be accounted for by the fact that Paul is addressing many people whom he had not met before (cf. 1:8–13). The third element (‘Grace and peace to you …’) is quite brief, as is the case in most of Paul’s letters (cf., e.g., 1 Cor. 1:3; 2 Cor. 1:2; Eph. 1:2; Col. 1:2; 1 Thess. 1:1; 2 Thess. 1:2; Philem. 3), but not all (cf. Gal. 1:3–5).

The original audience of Paul’s letter might have wondered why the opening greeting (prescript) was so extraordinarily long. Those who had some knowledge of epistolary conventions and rhetorical strategies would sense that Paul was going to great lengths to introduce himself so as to secure a good hearing for what he was to write in the rest of the letter.3 From the contents of the prescript an astute audience would also detect hints about what Paul intended to convey to them in his letter, but they would have to listen carefully to what was being read to discover exactly what that was.4

1:1 Paul

or the first-century audience of Paul’s letter the word ‘slave’ would have other connotations as well as connotations related to the institution of slavery. For them, a slave was someone who belonged entirely to another and from whom absolute obedience could be expected. Paul would have been quite happy for his reference to himself as a slave of Christ Jesus to be understood in this way because he thought of himself, and in fact of all believers (1 Cor. 7:22; Eph 6:6; Col 4:12), as slaves of Christ—people who belonged to Christ and owed him their full obedience (1 Cor. 6:20).12

It is significant that here Paul refers to himself as a slave of ‘Christ Jesus’, not ‘Jesus Christ’. In the latter ‘Christ’ might be regarded as a proper name, but in the former it clearly functions as a description of Jesus’ status—he is the Messiah (Christos being the Greek equivalent of the Hebrew word for Messiah).13

Paul describes himself further as one called to be an apostle (lit. ‘a called apostle’).14 This is the normal way he introduces himself in his letters (cf. 1 Cor. 1:1; 2 Cor. 1:1; Gal. 1:1; Eph 1:1; Col 1:1; 1 Tim. 1:1; 2 Tim. 1:1; Tit. 1:1). Paul’s calling as an apostle was according to the purpose of God (1 Cor. 1:1) and involved being set apart for, or wholly dedicated to, the preaching of the gospel (1:1). The key text for understanding Paul’s calling is Galatians 1:15–16 (NRSV: ‘But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being’). This text reflects Paul’s conviction that he was chosen by God for the task before he was born; that his calling came to him by revelation at a time determined by God himself; that it rested entirely upon God’s grace, not upon anything deserving on Paul’s part; that it involved a direct revelation of Jesus Christ to him involving no human mediation; and that the scope of his ministry was to be primarily among Gentile peoples.15 Two things were fundamental to Paul’s apostleship: he had seen the risen Lord (1 Cor. 15:3–8), and he had been commissioned by him to preach the gospel to the Gentiles (1:1–5; 15:15–16; Gal. 1:1, 15). By introducing himself as an apostle to his Roman audience, most of whom did not know him, Paul provides them with a good reason to give their attention to the contents of his letter: he writes as one who has been called and commissioned by God. See ‘Additional Note: Paul’s Apostleship’, 56–57.

Paul further describes himself as one set apart for the gospel of God. The word translated ‘set apart’ is often used to mean separating people from contact with others (as in Matt. 25:32; Luke. 6:22; 2 Cor. 6:17; Gal. 2:12), but here it means setting apart for a purpose (the proclamation of the gospel), something that was inherent in Paul’s conversion/commissioning experience on the Damascus Road. Paul uses the same word in Galatians 1:15–16, where he says that he was ‘set apart’ from birth by God to preach Christ among the Gentiles. It is also used in Acts. 13:2, where the Holy Spirit tells the prophets and teachers in Antioch to ‘set apart’ Paul and Barnabas for the work to which he has called them. Barrett comments: ‘Paul had been a Pharisee (Phil. 3:5), supposing himself to be set apart from other men for the service of God; he now truly was what he had supposed himself to be—separated, not, however, by human exclusiveness but by God’s grace and election’.16

As an apostle, Paul’s primary function was to proclaim the gospel (cf. 1 Cor. 1:17), one that he calls here ‘the gospel of God’, as he does frequently in his letters (Rom. 15:16; 2 Cor. 11:7; 1 Thess. 2:2, 8, 9; 1 Tim. 1:11).17 The essential background to the word ‘gospel’ is found in the LXX. Although the noun ‘gospel’ itself (euangelion) is found there only once (in 2 Sam 4:10, where it means the reward given for good news), the cognate verb (euangelizō) is found twenty-three times, and uniformly means to bring or proclaim good news. Particularly relevant are passages where it is used in relation to proclaiming news of God’s salvation (e.g., Ps. 96:2 [LXX 95:2]; Nah. 1:15 [LXX 2:1]; Isa. 40:9; 52:7; 61:1). Euangelion was also used in the emperor cult to refer to important announcements (e.g., the birth of an heir, or the emperor’s accession). It may be, as some scholars have suggested, that Paul’s description of the gospel as ‘the gospel of God’ distinguishes it implicitly from all other ‘gospels’, in particular those of Roman emperors.18

1:2 Paul describes ‘the gospel of God’ as the gospel he promised beforehand through his prophets in the Holy Scriptures. In 16:26 he describes the gospel in similar terms as that ‘made known through the prophetic writings by the command of the eternal God’.19 In 3:21 he insists that the law and the prophets testify to the righteousness made known through the gospel. In these ways he deliberately links the gospel he proclaims with God’s promises to Israel in the OT. Besides such explicit statements, Paul’s frequent quotations from the OT in Romans reflect implicitly his conviction that the gospel was ‘promised beforehand’ (1:17; 4:3, 7, 8, 9, 16–17, 22; 9:25–26; 10:6–8, 11, 13; 11:26–27; 15:9–12), as do quotations in his other letters (1 Cor. 2:9; 15:27, 54–55; 2 Cor. 6:2, 16–18; Gal. 3:6, 8, 11, 13, 16; 4:27–28; Eph. 4:7–8). An examination of all these references indicates that the OT Scriptures in which Paul found the gospel foreshadowed are Genesis, Deuteronomy, Psalms, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Hosea, Joel, and Habakkuk. For Paul, these books constitute (the law) and the prophets which proclaimed beforehand ‘the gospel of God’.20

Paul frequently refers to the writings of the OT as ‘the Scripture(s)’ (4:3; 9:17; 10:11; 11:2; 15:4; 16:26; 1 Cor. 15:3, 4; Gal. 3:8, 22; 4:30; 1 Tim. 5:18; 2 Tim. 3:16), but only here as ‘the Holy Scriptures’. This is, perhaps, to highlight their importance, and thereby the importance of the gospel promised beforehand in them, so that his audience will give their attention to what he is to write about it. In 1 Corinthians 15:3–4 Paul states explicitly that the core elements of the gospel are in accordance with the Scriptures: ‘For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures’.

The way Paul refers to the gospel here, as something proclaimed beforehand, suggests that he has in mind not simply a message of good news, but the events which constitute the basis of that good news, that is, what God achieved through Christ—the manifestation of the righteousness of God. Moo comments appropriately, therefore, when he says that the gospel ‘becomes functionally equivalent to “Christ” or God’s intervention in Christ’.21

1:3–4 Here, citing, it seems, an early Christian creed, Paul describes the content of ‘the gospel of God’ mentioned in 1:2. Slightly rearranging the text, the content of the gospel may be set out as that:

regarding his Son,

who was a descendant of David,

as to his earthly life

who was appointed the Son of God in power

through the Spirit of holiness

by his resurrection from the dead:

Jesus Christ our Lord.

Several arguments have been put forward to support the view that these verses contain material from an early creed. Some of these are more cogent than others, and some are based upon particular exegeses of these verses that are still subject to debate. However, their cumulative effect is impressive and supports the view that Paul is incorporating credal material in 1:3–4 (see ‘Additional Note: Paul’s Use of Credal Material in 1:3–4’, 47–49).

Turning to the actual content of 1:3–4, we notice first and foremost that Paul points out that the gospel is ‘regarding his Son’ (cf. 1:9). Paul was very conscious that God’s own Son was at the heart of the gospel message. Accordingly, he says elsewhere that God sent his Son to redeem those under the law (Gal. 4:5); that he did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all (8:32); and that he reconciled humanity to himself through his Son (5:10; cf. 2 Cor. 5:18–21). ‘His Son’ in this context denotes a unique relationship. It is true that in the OT various figures are spoken of as God’s sons, for example, Israel’s king (2 Sam. 7:14; Ps. 2:7), Israel the nation (Exod. 4:22–23; Jer. 31:9), and angels (Gen. 6:2; Job. 1:6; 38:7; Dan. 3:25), but here in 1:3–4 it becomes clear that ‘his Son’ means much more than these.

Paul employs two participial clauses to describe God’s Son, the one describing what he is ‘as to his earthly life’ (lit. ‘according to the flesh’) and the other what he is ‘through the Spirit of holiness’ (lit. ‘according to the Spirit of holiness’). Before we unpack these participial clauses, we should make a general comment on the distinction Paul makes about what God’s Son is according to the flesh and according to the Spirit of holiness. Some have taken this to distinguish the human and divine natures of Christ, that is, his humanity and his deity, but this is unlikely. It probably refers to how Christ is to be understood in the period of his incarnation (‘a descendant of David’), and how he is to be understood following his resurrection (‘the Son of God in power’).22

In the first of the two participial clauses Paul calls God’s Son the one ‘who as to his earthly life [lit. ‘according to the flesh’]23 was a descendant of David’. By describing him in this way Paul affirms his Jewish lineage, stretching back to King David. In the Gospel accounts Jesus’ Davidic lineage is traced through Joseph (cf. Matt. 1:16, 20; Luke. 1:27; 2:4; 3:23), even though the Gospels affirm that Joseph was not his natural father (Matt. 1:18–25; Luke. 1:34). Cranfield suggests that ‘the implication of the narratives is that Jesus’ Davidic descent rests on Joseph’s having accepted Him as his son and thereby legitimized Him’.24

There is only one other place in the Pauline corpus where Jesus is described as ‘a descendant of David’ (2 Tim. 2:8), though this is implied in 15:12 (where he is described as ‘the Root of Jesse’—David’s father). By referring to him as ‘a descendant of David’ Paul alludes to promises of a Davidic Messiah found in the OT, the Pseudepigrapha, and the Qumran writings (2 Sam. 7:12–13; Pss. 89:3–4, 20–29; 132:11–12; Jer. 23:5; Zech. 3:8; 6:12–13; the Psalms of Solomon 17–18; 4 Ezra 12:31–32; T. Jud. 24:1–6; 1QM 11:1–18; 4QFlor 1:10–14), and echoes early Christian belief that Jesus was the longawaited Davidic Messiah (Matt. 1:1, 17; 9:27; 12:23; 15:22; 20:30–31; 21:9, 15; 22:42; Mark. 10:47–48; 11:10; 12:35–37; Luke. 1:32, 69; 3:31; 18:38–39; 20:41–42, 44; John. 7:42; Acts. 13:34; 15:16; Rev. 5:5; 22:16).25

In the second participial clause the apostle describes Jesus as the one ‘who through the Spirit of holiness was appointed the Son of God in power by his resurrection from the dead: Jesus Christ our Lord’. A number of matters in this statement call for special comment. First, the expression ‘the Spirit of holiness’ is found only here in the NT.26 It can be interpreted in two main ways: (a) as the ‘Spirit of holiness’. Here Spirit has a capital ‘S’, indicating it is a reference to the Holy Spirit, the third person of the Trinity. In this case what Jesus is in respect of his human nature, a descendant of David, is contrasted with what he is in respect of the Holy Spirit, declared to be the Son of God. This is supported by the fact that Paul frequently contrasts what is ‘according to the flesh’ with what is ‘according to the Spirit’, where ‘Spirit’ refers to the Holy Spirit (cf. Rom 8:4, 5, 6, 9, 13; Gal. 3:3; 4:29; 5:16, 17; 6:8; Phil 3:3; 1 Tim. 3:16), the third person of the Trinity. In this case ‘the Spirit of holiness’ may be either equivalent to ‘the Holy Spirit’, or mean Spirit of sanctification, the Spirit who sanctifies.27

(b) The NRSV construes it as ‘the spirit of holiness’. Here ‘spirit’ is spelled with a lower-case ‘s’, which would allow ‘the spirit of holiness’ to be interpreted as the human spirit of Jesus, which is holy.28 Such an interpretation receives some support from the fact that Paul does in a few places use ‘flesh’ and ‘spirit’ to refer to the physical body and the spirit of human beings respectively (1 Cor. 5:5; 2 Cor. 7:1; Col 2:5). Militating against this interpretation is the fact that elsewhere in Paul’s writings the word ‘spirit’, when linked with the expression ‘according to’ as it is here, always refers to the Holy Spirit (cf. 8:4, 5; Gal. 4:29).

If we take ‘the Spirit of holiness’ as a reference to the Holy Spirit, there is a second matter that demands attention. The NIV translation describes Jesus Christ as the one ‘appointed Son of God’; however, many other English translations have, ‘declared to be the Son of God’. These translations lessen the possibility of Paul’s statement being interpreted in an adoptionist manner.29 However, this runs counter to the use of the same verb elsewhere in the NT, where it never means ‘to declare’, but rather ‘to determine’, ‘to decree’, or ‘to appoint’ (Luke. 22:22; Acts. 2:23; 10:42; 11:29; 17:26, 31; Heb. 4:7).30 It is preferable then to stay with the t

haracter Formation: Developing a Sense of Duty

The Pentateuch is a unique resource for the formation of character. When character (identity) is formed, internal motivation for ethical action (a sense of duty) is developed. Ethical inquiry into the Pentateuch properly begins with an awareness of the metanarrative context in which God acts. People are created, fall out of relationship with the Creator, need and receive promises of blessing, are delivered from bondage and move toward the fulfillment of the promises made by God. This subject matter and narrative form influence the formulation of the inquiry. The Pentateuch sets the stage for Christian ethics, providing presuppositions concerning human character before engaging in any ethics of obligation (e.g., Gen 1–3).

The Pentateuch is first about God’s actions and secondly about the formation of a people in relation to God. Rather than answering, “What shall we do?” it speaks first to the question, “Who shall we be in response to God’s actions?” *Abraham’s and *Moses’ calls are made in the context of promises that a people will be formed (Gen 12:1–3; 15:1–6; 17:1–14; 22:15–19; Ex 3:6–10). God’s calls to identity as a people precede the giving of laws. The narrative context focuses on being and character formation as the source for action and obligation. Indeed, Sinai’s obligations are repeatedly punctuated with the reminder of the source of Israel’s identity through the refrain “the LORD, who brought you out of the land of Egypt” (Ex 16:6; 20:2; Lev 11:45; 19:36; 22:33; 25:38; 26:13; Num 15:41; Deut 5:6; 6:12; 8:14; 13:5; 20:1). The Pentateuch forms character by providing a particular view of reality, namely, the view of the narrative text itself.

The narrative contains examples of responses to the Creator that are both positive (*Abel, *Noah, Abraham) and negative (*Cain, Ham, Sodomites). The stories are realistic in their complexity and ambiguity. Reality is not idealized. Noah and Abraham both exhibit weak character in their choices at times (Gen 9:21; 20:2). The people sin, fail, hope, persevere, reconcile and struggle. In the midst of the ambiguity, however, clear reasons for good actions are expressed, both in the realm of the “natural” order of creation and in response to God’s acts of redemption: “If you do well, will you not be accepted?” (Gen 4:7a NRSV), and “You must follow exactly the path that the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live, and that it may go well with you, and that you may live long in the land that you are to possess” (Deut 5:33 RSV). The narrative provides an overall view of reality that influences one’s way of life and subliminally shapes character to see the world truthfully (Goldingay; Hauerwas; Birch and Rasmussen).

The Pentateuch’s narrative form also functions to establish the authenticity (validity) of this view of reality (Birch 1988, 80). Since human experience is essentially narrative in form (and not abstract), the Pentateuch provides a medium that immediately engages the narrative quality of our lives (Crites). Further, the multivalence of the pentateuchal narrative corresponds to human experience.

2.1. The Narrative Source of Character and Identity. The main pentateuchal source for strong character (including a sense of duty to others and God) is found in the retelling of narrative promises and exodus redemption history. The promises to Abraham are repeated and the story of Sinai is retold in Deuteronomy and Joshua, creating a particular view of reality that shapes identity.

2.1.1. Being Human. The characters of the OT may be exemplary in specific actions, but the hero of one circumstance is often the heel of the next. The “saint” and “sinner” are often the same person. This observation led to the nineteenth-century conclusion that the ethical ambiguity of the biblical patriarchs evolved into the high morality of Israel’s prophets (Janzen, 8), leaving the patriarchal narratives in the hinterland of OT ethical discussions. Recently, however, scholars have suggested that the patriarchs contribute to character formation precisely because they are simultaneously saints and sinners. The narrative establishes a reality in which a person is capable of good even while affirming the fundamental canonical confession that human beings are sinners.

For Christian (as well as Jewish) ethics, the view that persons are inclined to both good and evil is a necessary function of the text. It trains us to see ourselves as sinners, as part of God’s narrative, and not our own (Hauerwas, 33). The text addresses “the total issue of man” rather than dealing with only the moral problem (Heschel). The Pentateuch presents law in the midst of a narrative that describes in detail the sins and troubles of its primary characters. It does not fail to describe Cain’s murder of Abel, Abraham and Sarah’s trouble in their sojourns, broken relations in Jacob and Joseph’s families, slavery in Egypt, struggle toward exodus and Sinai, the *golden calf and other rebellions, long wilderness wanderings and the repeated apprehensions surrounding the promised prosperity in the acquisition of land. The Pentateuch is a unique resource for ethics in that it provides an extensive story of failures as the lens through which intermingled successes should be viewed. Further, the context in which the law is presented forms an honest view of human character and a worldview in which laws, principles and codes can be understood.

The Pentateuch is relentless in presenting a view of people as willfully overreaching their powers in order to live as authors of their own stories (sui generis), deceived about the nature of reality (e.g., *Eve, Cain, Noah’s neighbors, Israel in the desert). The Bible addresses the problem by presenting a truthful view of the world, a view that can be gained by reading the narrative (Hauerwas, 31). This truthful view includes acknowledging tendencies to overreach the limits of human freedom to usurp the place of God, as in the case of Eve, and to hide that freedom in Israel’s various idolatries, thus losing freedom in what is finite (R. Niebuhr).

The pentateuchal narrative demonstrates that each generation needs to be schooled in the language of sin and to use it about themselves. This task requires a learning community of faith (Hauerwas, 33). Israel is reminded to teach the commandments to their children (Deut 6:7–9) and to repeat the stories of the past (“My father was a wandering Aramean”), especially in times of prosperity, when the temptation to self-deception about one’s true identity is greatest (Deut 26:1–11). The story calls the community to choose a life that is faithful to God’s story and warns against future temptations to abandon their place in it (Deut 27–30).

The view of reality found in the Pentateuch begins with the acknowledgement of a tendency to sin and a self-deception about sin (Gen 2–4). In response to this situation, God called the Hebrew people to become God’s people, to accept a place in God’s history and to live according to that calling (Gen 12–Ex 18). The center of that calling was not individual, but corporate. When the Hebrew slaves were called out of Egypt into the wilderness, the stated purpose was the worship of the God of the Hebrews (Ex 3:18). In the wilderness Israel was formed by receiving the instruction of the law and through worshiping the one God. The center of Israel’s calling and identity, and thus ethical formation, was the community of study and worship.

2.1.2. Being a Transformed Community. The narrative of the Pentateuch assumes a faith-centered historical community as its social context. Each person is held accountable for his or her actions by a community that finds its identity in the worship of the one living God, responding to the reiterated promise (Gen 12:1–3; 15:1–6; 17:1–8; 22:15–19; 26:2–5; 28:13–15). The Christian use of the Pentateuch for ethics cannot overemphasize worship and community. A worshiping community is the pentateuchal context of the formation of character and right living. The integral relationship between worship and right action is demonstrated in the difficulty that exegetes have in attempting to divide ceremonial from civil and moral ordinances in the Sinai law. They are bound together as character and right action are bound.

The laws contained in the Pentateuch are set in the context of a community that is being transformed. This observation recently has played a more prominent role in methodology (Birch; Hauerwas), leading to a closer reading of the sociohistorical settings of OT laws (Barton). Attention also has focused on the voice of the overarching narrative and its influence on the formation of communities today. In every case an important critical aspect has been gained by closer attention to the historical community and narrative contexts of the text, thereby avoiding ahistorical abstractions. With renewed attention to the context of historical community and the witness of the narrative context, the text functions as a self-authenticating call to good character.

The narrative discloses reality and has the power to transform a community in at least three ways (Birch, 1988, 82–84). (1) Its salvation stories transform the reader, the central salvation story of the exodus being especially effective (Ex 1–15). Israel understood deliverance as a gift of life-giving grace (Deut 26:1–11; Josh 24:1–18). Its memory and retelling had the power to transform later generations: “Not with our ancestors … but with us, we who are here, all of us, alive this day” (Deut 5:3). (2) Stories of transformation in the text invite the reader to similar transformation, to new life and new understanding in relation to others and to God. When Jacob is at the Jabbok crossing, he struggles with alienation from his brother, is given a new name and is reconciled to his brother (Gen 32:22–33:11). (3) Unexpected results in pentateuchal stories can transform a reader. The verdict in the case of *Tamar and *Judah forces the reader to reconsider assumptions about righteousness (Gen 38:26). They invite readers to think about complex relationships in which God has a stake and to consider that stake in relation to their own complexities of relation. While the first two kinds of transformation create hope within the community of faith, the third has the potentia

. Conclusion

The ethical influence of the Pentateuch can be summarized under four points.

5.1. God’s Unrelenting Love. The search for underlying principles for ethics can never be separated from the narrative of God’s unrelenting, loving pursuit of the creation. The stories of Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob, Leah, Rachel, Joseph and his brothers, Moses, and the rebellious people Israel form the setting for the ethical contributions of the Pentateuch.

5.2. Building Character in the Created. Character formation in the Pentateuch is founded in the Creator-created relationship. This formation includes living with the following convictions: (1) the relationship is broken by human rebellion, resulting in broken human lives that continually need restoration; (2) the created are called to worship the Creator in a community of faith; (3) God’s law is established as created law, and its keeping or breaking has a web of consequences for human and nonhuman creation; and (4) a personal relationship with the Creator who is present and active in the creation is necessary for biblical character formation.

5.3. The Authority of the Creator and the Redeemer. The life-restoring response of those redeemed by the Creator is to keep the instruction given by God for right living. The Redeemer’s direct speech provides authority for the instruction given at Sinai. The law’s authority is also presented in the creational consequences, motives and arguments of the narrative.

5.4. Right Living of the Redeemed. The instruction (“law”) of the Pentateuch has been handled in the Christian community in various ways: (1) summarized as principles or values; (2) declared fulfilled in Christ; (3) contravened; and (4) accepted as wholly authoritative. In general, the canonical understanding has affirmed the priority of the Ten Commandments, the keeping of the law as a result of faith and the law as a guide (not a means) to life. The 613 commands are not all applicable laws for right living today but provide authoritative instruction for reflective, intelligent and wise living in the presence of God.

See also BODILY INJURIES, MURDER, MANSLAUGHTER; COVENANT; DECALOGUE; EVIL; HOLY AND HOLINESS, CLEAN AND UNCLEAN; LAW; SEXUALITY, SEXUAL ETHICS; THEFT AND DEPRIVATION OF PROPERTY; WARFARE.

BIBLIOGRAPHY. B. J. Bamberger, “Leviticus,” in The Torah: A Modern Commentary, ed. W. G. Plaut (New York: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1981) 731–1008; J. Barr, Biblical Faith and Natural Theology (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993); J. Barton, Ethics and the Old Testament (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1998); idem, “Understanding Old Testament Ethics,” JSOT 9 (1978) 44–64; S. D. Berkovitz, “The Biblical Meaning of Justice,” Judaism 18 (1969) 188–209; B. Birch, Let Justice Roll Down: The Old Testament, Ethics, and Christian Life (Louisville: John Knox, 1991); idem, “Old Testament Narrative and Moral Address,” in Canon and Theology, ed. G. Tucker et al. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988) 75–91; B. Birch and L. Rasmussen, Bible and Ethics in the Christian Life (2d ed.; Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1989); S. D. Breslauer, “Zebulun and Issachar as an Ethical Paradigm,” HAR 8 (1984) 13–23; J. K. Bruckner, Implied Law in the Abraham Narrative (JSOTSup 335; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001); idem, “On the One Hand … On the Other: The Twofold Meaning of the Law Against Covetousness,” in To Hear and Obey: Essays in Honor of Fredrick Carlson Holmgren, ed. P. E. Koptak and B. J. Bergfalk (Chicago: Covenant Publications, 1997) 97–118; W. Brueggemann, Hope in History (Atlanta: John Knox, 1987); B. S. Childs, Biblical Theology of the Old and New Testaments (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992); G. R. Clark, The Word Hesed in the Hebrew Bible (JSOTSup 157; Sheffield: JSOT, 1993); R. Clements, Loving One’s Neighbor: Old Testament Ethics in Context (London: University of London Press, 1992); S. Crites, “The Narrative Quality of Experience,” JAAR 39 (1971) 291–311; M. Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (New York: Praeger, 1966); J. Ellul, To Will and to Do (Philadelphia: Pilgrim, 1969); T. Fretheim, Exodus (Louisville: John Knox, 1991); J. Gammie, Holiness in Israel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1989); E. S. Gerstenberger, “Covenant and Commandment,” JBL 84 (1965) 38–51; D. Gill, The Word of God in the Ethics of Jacques Ellul (London: Scarecrow, 1984); J. Goldingay, Approaches to Old Testament Interpretation (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1990); W. Harrelson, The Ten Commandments and Human Rights (OBT 8; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980); S. Hauerwas, The Peaceable Kingdom (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1983); R. Hays, “Justification,” ABD 3.1129–33; A. Heschel, The Prophets: An Introduction (New York: Harper & Row, 1962); R. Hutter, “The Twofold Center of Lutheran Ethics: Christian Freedom and God’s Commandments,” in The Promise of Lutheran Ethics, ed. K. Bloomquist and J. Stumme (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998) 31–54; W. Janzen, Old Testament Ethics: A Paradigmatic A

he view of reality found in the Pentateuch begins with the acknowledgement of a tendency to sin and a self-deception about sin (Gen 2–4). In response to this situation, God called the Hebrew people to become God’s people, to accept a place in God’s history and to live according to that calling (Gen 12–Ex 18). The center of that calling was not individual, but corporate. When the Hebrew slaves were called out of Egypt into the wilderness, the stated purpose was the worship of the God of the Hebrews (Ex 3:18). In the wilderness Israel was formed by receiving the instruction of the law and through worshiping the one God. The center of Israel’s calling and identity, and thus ethical formation, was the community of study and worship.

2.1.2. Being a Transformed Community. The narrative of the Pentateuch assumes a faith-centered historical community as its social context. Each person is held accountable for his or her actions by a community that finds its identity in the worship of the one living God, responding to the reiterated promise (Gen 12:1–3; 15:1–6; 17:1–8; 22:15–19; 26:2–5; 28:13–15). The Christian use of the Pentateuch for ethics cannot overemphasize worship and community. A worshiping community is the pentateuchal context of the formation of character and right living. The integral relationship between worship and right action is demonstrated in the difficulty that exegetes have in attempting to divide ceremonial from civil and moral ordinances in the Sinai law. They are bound together as character and right action are bound.

The laws contained in the Pentateuch are set in the context of a community that is being transformed. This observation recently has played a more prominent role in methodology (Birch; Hauerwas), leading to a closer reading of the sociohistorical settings of OT laws (Barton). Attention also has focused on the voice of the overarching narrative and its influence on the formation of communities today. In every case an important critical aspect has been gained by closer attention to the historical community and narrative contexts of the text, thereby avoiding ahistorical abstractions. With renewed attention to the context of historical community and the witness of the narrative context, the text functions as a self-authenticating call to good character.

The narrative discloses reality and has the power to transform a community in at least three ways (Birch, 1988, 82–84). (1) Its salvation stories transform the reader, the central salvation story of the exodus being especially effective (Ex 1–15). Israel understood deliverance as a gift of life-giving grace (Deut 26:1–11; Josh 24:1–18). Its memory and retelling had the power to transform later generations: “Not with our ancestors … but with us, we who are here, all of us, alive this day” (Deut 5:3). (2) Stories of transformation in the text invite the reader to similar transformation, to new life and new understanding in relation to others and to God. When Jacob is at the Jabbok crossing, he struggles with alienation from his brother, is given a new name and is reconciled to his brother (Gen 32:22–33:11). (3) Unexpected results in pentateuchal stories can transform a reader. The verdict in the case of *Tamar and *Judah forces the reader to reconsider assumptions about righteousness (Gen 38:26). They invite readers to think about complex relationships in which God has a stake and to consider that stake in relation to their own complexities of relation. While the first two kinds of transformation create hope within the community of faith, the third has the potential to bring hope to those standing outside the community. In each case transformation is possible when hope is taken from reading the narrative.

Hope is a primary source of good character. Although the word hope only occurs once in the Pentateuch, the words of promise and fulfillment to Abraham, *Isaac, *Jacob, Moses and Israel carry hope as a major theme. Significant attention has been given to the hope generated from biblical stories of deliverance and redemption (Ellul; Brueggemann). Hope is a question prior even to faith and love in a time of alienation and abandonment. Christian ethics is categorically an eschatological ethics of hope (see DJG, Ethics of Jesus). Communities of faith become and remain ethical in hope that God’s promises for an eternal covenant will be fulfilled. The narratives of deliverance and promise in the Pentateuch and their ownership by members of faith communities are the means by which that hope is inculcated and retained. The retelling of the past, shared, biblical story and a present and future hope in its promises are the source of character formation.

2.2. Creation: A Basis for Character Formation. The fundamental fact that we are creations of the Creator is the basis for a sense of duty in the first biblical examples (before Sinai), as well as in later arguments (“motive clauses,” after Sinai). The arguments of the texts assume that when one’s identity is located in this Creator-created relationship, good character and good decisions will follow.

2.2.1. Being Created. While the giving of the law at Sinai is the dominant biblical context of character formation and obligation, *creation is the first setting of ethical narrative. Eden is the first test of character in relation to the Creator (“Where are you?” Gen 3:9). The contrasts between Abel and Cain, Enoch and Lamech, and Noah and his generation can each be judged in relation to the Creator and good human order. The renewed interest in creation as a context for ethics begins with such pre-Sinai stories. Creation is the proper theological context, since it is first in the canon, the first source of order and the first source of life. In one sense, all of the Pentateuch can be read from a creational perspective. The exodus is nothing less than an act of creation that is completed in *tabernacle worship (Ex 10:22; Lev 26:13; Deut 4:32; 32:6). The priestly legislation of Leviticus has a creational context (Brueggemann). Israel’s ritual worship participates in recreating the world. Creation is completed when the created worship the Creator. The human perspective of being a creation in relationship with a Creator is fundamental to identity and character formation.

In the Abraham narrative a character-forming worldview is presented through a web of dramatic sociological consequences for unethical actions (Fretheim). In Genesis 20 *Abimelech’s camp suffers extensive consequences (sickness, closed wombs) because Abraham and Sarah have not disclosed their relationship as husband and wife. All are caught in cosmological consequences resulting from a violation of created orders. While similar dramatic consequences do not result from such actions today, the narrative demonstrates a cosmology in which unethical actions have widespread consequences. A legal reading of the text reinforces this explanation, showing the necessity of this particular cosmology to the interpretation of the consequences (Bruckner). The web of moral physical consequence constitutes a cosmology in which human conformity to the pattern of the Creator’s natural order is wisdom (Goldingay, 42).

“Motive clauses” accompany some laws in Exodus–Deuteronomy, providing a reason for keeping them (Uitti, 20) and forming an argument that appeals to common orders of creation rather than their covenant context. The motive clauses of Deuteronomy especially appeal to basic human categories of empathy, common sense, self-preservation and conscience. Some motive clauses appeal to human empathy for the powerless by recalling a similar experience: “Remember that you were a slave in Egypt” (Deut 24:18a RSV). Common sense is given as a motive in the release of a slave: “Do not consider it a hardship when you send a slave out as a free person; for at half the cost of a hired servant the slave has served you six years” (Deut 15:18). Self-preservation motivates honest business practices: “You shall have only a full and honest measure, so that your days may be long in the land” (Deut 25:15b NRSV). Conscience is also a basis of appeal: “As for the Levites resident in your towns, do not neglect them, because they have no allotment or inheritance with you” (Deut 14:27 NRSV). These rational motives make their human appeal within the text itself, based on the Creator’s intention for the creation to be fruitful (Gen 1:28; Barr, 95–96). They build character by reflecting on the advantages of living with an enlightened self-interest in the Creator’s world.

2.2.2. The Character of Creation’s Freedom. Modern understanding of created humanity is often ba

This brief description of God’s identity is the first crucial building block that grounds Christ’s identity and provides the warrant to Christ alone. God’s identity as the holy triune Creator-Covenant Lord gives a particular theistic shape to Scripture’s storyline and framework, and in turn, it is this interpretive framework which gives the specific theistic shape to Christ’s identity. To help make this point, we can quickly consider three specific examples.

First, the triunity of God shapes the identity of Christ. Jesus views himself as the eternal Son who even after adding to himself a human nature continues to relate to the Father and Spirit (John 1:1, 14). But it is precisely his identity as the eternal Son that gives the Jesus of history his exclusive identity. In fact, it is because he is the divine Son that his life and death has universal significance for all of humanity and the rest of creation. Moreover, Jesus’ work cannot be understood apart from Trinitarian relations. It is the Son and not the Father or the Spirit who becomes flesh. The Father sends the Son, the Spirit attends his union with human nature, and the Son bears our sin and the Father’s wrath as a man in the power of the Spirit. And yet, as God the Son, Jesus Christ lived and died in unbroken unity with the Father and Spirit because they share the same identical divine nature. Christ is not a third party acting independently of the other two divine persons. At the cross, then, we do not see three parties but only two: the triune God and humanity. The cross is a demonstration of the Father’s love (John 3:16) by the gift of his Son.21

Second, the covenantal character of the triune God shapes the identity of Christ. Here we are not first thinking about the biblical covenants unfolded in history, but what Reformed theologians have called the “covenant of redemption.”22 Scripture teaches that God had a plan of salvation before the foundation of the world (e.g., Ps 139:16; Isa 22:11; Eph 1:4; 3:11; 2 Tim 1:9; 1 Pet 1:20). In that plan, the divine Son, in relation to the Father and Spirit, is appointed as the mediator of his people. And the Son gladly and voluntarily accepts this appointment with its covenant stipulations and promises that are then worked out in his incarnation, life, death, and resurrection. This eternal plan establishes Christ as Mediator, defines the nature of his mediation, and assigns specific roles to each person of the Godhead. None of the triune persons are pitted against each other in the plan of redemption. All three persons equally share the same nature and act inseparably according to their mode of subsistence—as Father, as Son, and as Spirit. Finally, the covenant of redemption provides for our covenantal union with Christ as our mediator and representative substitute. The work of Christ as God the Son incarnate, then, is the specific covenantal work designed by the Father, Son, and Spirit to accomplish our eternal redemption.

Third, the lordship of the triune covenant God shapes the identity of Christ. As noted, Scripture begins with the declaration that God is the Creator and sovereign King of the universe. He alone is the Lord who is uncreated and self-sufficient and thus in need of nothing outside himself (Ps 50:12–14; 93:2; Acts 17:24–25). And as the Lord, he chooses to enter into covenant relationships with his creatures through the first man, Adam. As the Lord he demands from his image-bearers a complete loyalty and perfect obedience, a point we will return to below.

In thinking of God’s Lordship, the word which beautifully captures the sense of God’s self-sufficiency and independence is aseity, literally, “life from himself.” But, as John Frame reminds us, we must not think of aseity merely in terms of God’s self-existence since aseity is more than a metaphysical attribute; it also applies to epistemological and ethical categories. As Frame notes, “God is not only self-existent, but also self-attesting and self-justifying. He not only exists without receiving existence from something else, but also gains his knowledge only from himself (his nature and his plan) and serves as his own criterion of truth. And his righteousness is self-justifying, based on the righteousness of his own nature and on his status as the ultimate criterion of rightness.”23

Why is this crucial to stress, especially for correctly identifying Christ and his work? Because it is within this conception of God that Jesus is placed, and especially the emphasis on God as the moral, just standard of the universe. Repeatedly, the triune God is identified as the holy One, the Judge and the King. As the divine king, Yahweh is the just judge, able to enforce his judgments by his power (see Deut 32:4). Abraham pleads God’s justice as he intercedes for Sodom. Abraham’s appeal binds God to absolute standards of justice—God’s own standards: he is the supreme and universal judge. In this important way, the Bible grounds the concept of a moral universe in the nature of God himself, which is crucial to grasp if we are to make sense of human sin before God, and the tension sin creates for God, if he chooses to forgive our sin and remain true to himself as the Judge of all the earth (Gen 18:25).

Today, this point is especially significant in light of the “New Perspective on Paul.”24 Although this view is diverse, it unites in linking “righteousness” and “justice” to the concept of “covenant faithfulness,” that is, God is righteous in that he keeps his promises to save. No doubt, there is much truth in this: God’s faithfulness means that he will keep his word. Specifically, he will keep his promises to his people and he will execute justice for them, and act to save them. Yet, if this is all that God’s righteousness is, it is too reductionistic. At its heart, it fails first to see that in Scripture, “righteousness-justice-holiness” is tied to the nature and character of God, which entails that God’s faithfulness also means that he will punish wrong. It is this latter emphasis which grounds the biblical concept of God’s retributive justice, which many today simply dismiss as a Western construct of law.

But this will not do. If we are rightly thinking of God’s aseity in relation to his moral character, Scripture views God’s holiness, justice, and righteousness as reflective of God’s very nature. And furthermore, as we will develop below, it is such an understanding of God’s moral character that, in light of sin, creates a huge tension regarding how God will forgive sin. Precisely because of who God is as the moral standard of the universe, sin against him requires or, even stronger, necessitates for him to judge and punish sin and to stand against it in his holy wrath. Ultimately, in Scripture, death is viewed as the wages of sin (Rom 6:23) and it is a penal suffering, which, as the Bible’s storyline unfolds, either we pay or Christ pays in our place. But such an understanding of Christ and his work makes no sense apart from being viewed in light of God’s identity, and conversely, God’s identity helps us rightly grasp Christ’s identity and work.

2. The Requirement of Covenantal Obedience

At the heart of God’s complex relationship with humanity lies the concept of covenantal obedience. Simply put, it is the demand of God and the joy of human beings to maintain a relationship of love and loyalty. To understand who Christ is and what he does in his new covenant ministry, we must go back to the Edenic roots of the creation covenant between God and man. We need to trace the Bible’s interpretive link between the charge and curse of the first Adam to understand the coming and crucifixion of the last Adam.

The biblical storyline divides the entire human race and every person in it under two representative heads: the first Adam and the last Adam. In the beginning of time, God created the first ’ādām from the earth; in the fullness of time, God sent his Son from heaven to become the last ’ādām on the earth (Rom 5:14). God covenanted with the first Adam as the head of the human race to spread the image of God in humanity over the whole earth. This Adam’s headship then had a deeper privilege than ordinary fatherhood. It also had the dignity of defining what it means to be human: a son of God and his true image-bearer. Yet the first Adam would fail in his headship over humanity, thereby creating the necessity for a final Adam who would prevail in his headship over a new humanity. But if we pursue the necessity for a new Adam too quickly, we will miss an important clue to his identity.

The second major piece to the puzzle of Christ’s identity is that God requires covenant obedience from humanity. This requirement flows from God’s own identity and becomes apparent in his charge to Adam and in his curse following the rebellion of his first vice-regent. As Creator-Covenant Lord, God requires perfect loyalty and obedience as the only proper and permissible way to live in covenant with him. Also, the Lord created and covenanted with Adam for the purpose of bearing God’s image in human dominion over creation. Adam was called to rule over creation under God’s rule in obedience to his commands and ways of righteousness. Yet, it is precisely at this point that Adam fails to the ruin of the entire human race.

We can look at the two trees of Eden to see the inherent nature of this requirement for covenantal obedience. When the Creator-Covenant Lord placed Adam in the garden, he gave the man two trees in particular to guide him into the joy of covenantal obedience. The first tree

n Jesus Christ, we see all of God’s plans and purposes fulfilled; we see the resolution of God to take upon himself our guilt and sin in order to reverse the horrible effects of the fall and to satisfy his own righteous requirements, to make this world right, and to inaugurate a new covenant in his blood. In Jesus Christ, we see the perfectly obedient Son, who is identified as the Lord, taking the initiative to keep his covenant-promises by taking upon our human flesh, veiling his glory, and winning for us our redemption. In him we see two major OT eschatological expectations unite: he is the sovereign Lord who comes to rescue and save his people, who is simultaneously David’s greater Son. In this way, our Lord Jesus Christ fulfills all the types and shadows of the OT, and as the divine Son, is identified with the Father and God-equal to him. The biblical covenants as developed along the Bible’s own storyline beautifully identify who Jesus is, and provide the biblical warrant for his unique identity and work.

In fact, the primary message of the covenants is this: unless God himself acts to accomplish his promises, we have no salvation. After all, who ultimately can remedy his own divine problem of forgiveness other than God? If there is to be salvation at all, the triune God himself must save, which is what he has done in and through the incarnate Son. The Son is absolutely necessary to act as our new covenant representative and substitute, and apart from him there is no salvation.

it. The Creator of the world causes it to exist and is revealed in it; but God is not the world.

Creation Had a Beginning. Another crucial element of the theistic view of creation from nothing is that the universe (everything except God) had a beginning. Jesus spoke of his glory with the Father “before the world was” (John 17:5). Time is not eternal. The space-time universe was brought into existence. The world did not always exist. The world did not begin in time. The world was the beginning of time. Time was not there before creation and then at some moment in time God created the world. Rather, it was not a creation in time but a creation of time.

This does not mean that there was a time when the universe was not. For there was no time before time began. The only thing “prior” to time was eternity. That is, God exists forever; the universe began to exist. Hence, he is prior to the temporal world ontologically (in reality), but not chronologically (in time).

To say that creation had a beginning is to point out that it came into being out of nothing. First it did not exist, and then it did. It was not, and then it was. The cause of that coming to be was God.

Illustrating ex Nihilo Creation. There really are no perfect illustrations of ex nihilo creation, since it is a unique event that does not occur in our experience. We only experience something coming from something. Nonetheless, there are imperfect but helpful analogies. One is the creation of a new idea, which brings into existence something that did not exist before. We literally conceive it or conjure it up. We create it, as it were, out of nothing. Of course, unlike the physical universe, ideas are not matter. But like God’s ex nihilo creation, they are brought into existence by a creative intelligence.

Another illustration of ex nihilo is an act of free will, by which a free agent initiates an action that did not before exist. Since a free choice (see FREE WILL) is self-determined, it did not spring from previous conditions. Hence, much like ex nihilo, it does not flow from previous states. Rather, a free choice is not determined by anything else; it literally creates the action itself.

Support for ex Nihilo Creation. One of the oldest extrabiblical recorded statements on creation known to archaeologists, over 4,000 years old, makes a clear statement on ex nihilo creation: “Lord of heaven and earth: the earth was not, you created it, the light of day was not, you created it, the morning light you had not [yet] made exist” (Ebla Archives, 259). Creation from nothing is clearly expressed outside the Bible in 2 Maccabees 7:28. It says, “Look at the heavens and the earth and see everything that is in them, and recognize that God did not make them out of things that existed.”

While the Hebrew word for “creation,” bara, does not necessarily mean to create from nothing (cf. Ps. 104:30), nevertheless, in certain contexts it can mean only that. Genesis 1:1 declares: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Given the context that this is speaking about the original creation, ex nihilo seems to be implied here. Likewise, when God commanded: “Let there be light,” there was light (Gen. 1:3), ex nihilo creation is involved. For light literally, and apparently instantaneously, came to be where previously it was not.

Psalm 148:5 declares: “Let them [angels] praise the name of the Lord, for he commanded and they were created.”

Jesus affirmed: “And now, Father, glorify Me in Your presence with the glory I had with You before the world began” (John 17:5). This phrase is repeated in 1 Corinthians 2:7 and 2 Timothy 1:9. Obviously, if the world had a beginning, then it did not always exist. It literally came into existence out of nonexistence. In this sense, every New Testament passage that speaks of the “beginning” of the universe assumes ex nihilo creation (cf. Matt. 19:4; Mark 13:19). Romans 4:17 asserts ex nihilo creation in very clear and simple terms: “God who gives life to the dead and calls things that are not as though they were.” In Colossians 1:16 the apostle Paul added, “For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible.” This eliminates the view that the visible universe is simply made out of invisible matter, since even the invisible created realm was brought into existence.

In the Apocalypse John expressed the same thought, declaring, “for You created all things, and by Your will they were created and have their being” (Rev. 4:11).

From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible declares the doctrine of God’s creation of everything else that exists, other than himself, out of nothing.

Criticism of Ex Nihilo Creation. There are several important implications of creation ex nihilo. Most of them arise out of misunderstandings of the view.

It Does Not Imply Time before Time. It is objected that the view implies that there was time before time began, since it holds that time had a beginning and yet God existed before (a temporal term) time began. This objection is answered by the theist by pointing out that before is not used here as a temporal term, but to indicate ontological priority. Time did not exist before time, but God did. There was no time before time, but there was eternity. For the universe, nonbeing came “before” being in a logical sense, not a chronological one. The Creator is “before all time” only by a priority of nature, not of time. God did not create in time; he executed the creation of time.

It Does Not Imply Nothing Made Something. Sometimes ex nihilo creation is criticized as though it affirmed that nothing made something. It is clearly absurd to assert that nonbeing produced being (see CAUSALITY, PRINCIPLE OF). For in order to create there must be an existing cause, but nonexistence does not exist. Hence, nothing cannot create something. Only something (or someone) can cause something. Nothing causes nothing.

In contrast to nothing producing something, ex nihilo creation affirms that Someone (God) made something from nothing. This is in accord with the fundamental law of causality which demands that everything that comes to be is caused. Nothing cannot bring something into existence, but Someone (God) can bring something other tha