A recent blog posting over at Theologica corresponded with some thoughts I've had in the past few weeks on the necessities of Orthodoxy (right opinions) and Orthopraxy (right practice) in evangelism. One is often tempted to ask, "Is it more important what I believe, or what I do?" with respect to spreading the gospel.
I think in the main this is a false dichotomy. Legalism abounds on both sides of this question: those who value correct doctrine are sometimes so rigid that they fail to see how it impacts the way they live their lives; those who value right living sometimes fail to see the need for right doctrine at all. Properly speaking, correct doctrine and correct living are two sides of the same coin; they belong together and should inform each other.
I learned this by experience only within the last few years, when I had the opportunity to speak with two individuals about the Trinity in a gospel context. The doctrine is essential to Christianity (we are not Christians without it), but I think it's fair to say that many would find it trivial. Christianity is supposed to be about ethics and morals and how you live, not about ivory tower obscurities. How can one preach the gospel by talking about the Trinity? How does one approach faith in Christ from the Deity of Christ?
My experiences were unexpected. You sometimes run into theologically literate people on the street, and three were avowed anti-trinitarians: a Jehovah's Witness and two Muslims. In the former case, we discussed the humanity of Christ in the light of his deity. The hypostatic union is hard to unpack and to do well, but I think the ideas were sufficiently communicated. He suffered from a number of addictions and evinced no motivation to overcome them. That Jesus Christ could reveal God to him because he was in fact God, and that he could reveal True Man was good news in his state: mankind isn't doomed to the worst.
My sample size for the Muslims is pretty small, and certainly not of the African or Arabian stripe. But interestingly, they had no answer when I asked why being in the presence of God would not blow them to smithereens. Basic questions about the holiness of God and the nature of man were met in a manner that would be theologically acceptable to a Christian, but no reconciliation was offered except that of works. It is trite to reduce their theology to such a conflict, and I don't intend to oversimplify here.
But strikingly, Christianity offers a resolution that is completely outside the one who comes to God. Because Jesus is God and man, he presents God to us in a way that does not actually smash us to little bits. I have before said that Elihu's words to Job as his intercessor prefigure Christ: "I, too, am pinched off from a piece of clay. No fear of me need terrify you" (somewhat paraphrased, I think). This is a confidence absent from the Islamic conception of God, at least near as I understand it. While the Christian is not encouraged to take God's holiness lightly (that is, after all, one of the lessons of the cross), he is likewise not discouraged from seeking God.
If we were to eliminate the Trinity from the repertoire of Christian theology by some means (like indifference to matters of doctrine, for example), we would lose a significant part of our means of evangelizing the lost. This is not merely an academic concern, nor is it of trifling importance to the average person on the street (despite my rather unique examples).
The gospel is one of restoration. It speaks to the restoration of man's relationship to God, and therefore his relationship to himself.
I'm stuck in an airport finishing this, and I'm not sure how well I'm making the point...but I suppose in the end what I'd like to communicate is that doctrinal precision is helpful to the gospel and immediately practical for it.
Showing posts with label the trinity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the trinity. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Tidbits
It's been busy lately, and it's unlikely that I'm going to be here very often. A few nice things of note in the past months, however, and I thought I'd summarize quickly while I watch the Colts and the Saints.
First, I spent a Sunday at Redeemer Pres in New York City in November. It was one of the first church services in a long time that I felt like I could fully participate in. Gospel-centered, good worship, and weekly communion (with wine!). The service was the end of Philippians, the final greetings, and he spent time appropriately commenting on being "saints in Christ Jesus." That sainthood is a consequence of our union with Christ.
Second, Piper wrote some lessons from CS Lewis, among which was Lewis' definition of joy: a desire which is in itself more desirable than any other satisfaction. I suppose there's really more to it, but the definition is pretty descriptive. Desire supposes want, or lack, and it seems essentially that Lewis is arguing that Joy is a desire that is more desirable to have than any other satisfaction.
After reading Piper's discussion, I was reminded of Hwin's first meeting with Aslan in The Horse and His Boy. Upon seeing the Lion, she says to him, "I would rather be eaten by you than fed by anyone else." While I have favored The Dawn Treader to this point, this line (among a couple others) makes me think very highly of The Horse. Lewis is often a tougher read than we imagine because the complexity of his thought is often hidden in the simplicity of his writing. His gifts of communication are in my opinion unparalleled in any other author I've read.
Third, I have been reading more in general: Foxe's Book of Martyrs (the easier to read version), Chesterton's The Everlasting Man and Eugenics, Reinhardt's Germany: 2000 years, Lewis' Surprised by Joy (with The Four Loves in queue), miscellaneous fiction, et c. It's been nice to read a little more, though it's cost me a bit of sleep; there's a lot to learn.
Fourth, some thoughts on the first chapter of John. There's an interesting contrast made throughout the first verses between verbs of becoming (especially ἐγένετο compared to ἦν). So "In the beginning was [ἦν] the Word," an imperfect that indicates his being was not yet completed, contrasted with "The Word became [ἐγένετο] flesh" (the KJV says, "was made," consistent with their use in 1.3; cp ESV, which uses "were made" in 1.3 and "became" in 1.14). This is yet another way that we can see the deity of Christ emphasized in the first chapter of John.
Fifth, I was re-introduced to Shai Linne, whose lyrical thoughts have been appreciated, though he's not much my style. But "Jesus is Alive" is a great song.
Last, I've done some more writing...not so much for here, but for myself. Thinking about the implications and necessity of the resurrection, the problem of pain, the uniqueness of Christianity. There's a lot afoot in my life, and it seems unlikely I'll be writing here too often—but I will when I'm able.
First, I spent a Sunday at Redeemer Pres in New York City in November. It was one of the first church services in a long time that I felt like I could fully participate in. Gospel-centered, good worship, and weekly communion (with wine!). The service was the end of Philippians, the final greetings, and he spent time appropriately commenting on being "saints in Christ Jesus." That sainthood is a consequence of our union with Christ.
Second, Piper wrote some lessons from CS Lewis, among which was Lewis' definition of joy: a desire which is in itself more desirable than any other satisfaction. I suppose there's really more to it, but the definition is pretty descriptive. Desire supposes want, or lack, and it seems essentially that Lewis is arguing that Joy is a desire that is more desirable to have than any other satisfaction.
After reading Piper's discussion, I was reminded of Hwin's first meeting with Aslan in The Horse and His Boy. Upon seeing the Lion, she says to him, "I would rather be eaten by you than fed by anyone else." While I have favored The Dawn Treader to this point, this line (among a couple others) makes me think very highly of The Horse. Lewis is often a tougher read than we imagine because the complexity of his thought is often hidden in the simplicity of his writing. His gifts of communication are in my opinion unparalleled in any other author I've read.
Third, I have been reading more in general: Foxe's Book of Martyrs (the easier to read version), Chesterton's The Everlasting Man and Eugenics, Reinhardt's Germany: 2000 years, Lewis' Surprised by Joy (with The Four Loves in queue), miscellaneous fiction, et c. It's been nice to read a little more, though it's cost me a bit of sleep; there's a lot to learn.
Fourth, some thoughts on the first chapter of John. There's an interesting contrast made throughout the first verses between verbs of becoming (especially ἐγένετο compared to ἦν). So "In the beginning was [ἦν] the Word," an imperfect that indicates his being was not yet completed, contrasted with "The Word became [ἐγένετο] flesh" (the KJV says, "was made," consistent with their use in 1.3; cp ESV, which uses "were made" in 1.3 and "became" in 1.14). This is yet another way that we can see the deity of Christ emphasized in the first chapter of John.
Fifth, I was re-introduced to Shai Linne, whose lyrical thoughts have been appreciated, though he's not much my style. But "Jesus is Alive" is a great song.
Last, I've done some more writing...not so much for here, but for myself. Thinking about the implications and necessity of the resurrection, the problem of pain, the uniqueness of Christianity. There's a lot afoot in my life, and it seems unlikely I'll be writing here too often—but I will when I'm able.
Friday, November 21, 2008
The Deity of Christ
This post has been sitting in draft for a fairly long time. My apologies for the delay.
In an abortive thread on Theologica this past week, a question was asked about the necessity of the Trinity. This is a sharp dividing line between Christians and those who claim to be Christian—Jehovah's Witnesses deny the deity of Christ, while the Mormons deny the unity of the Godhead, for example.
Iraneaus' quote naturally has some bearing on the Trinity, as he assumes the deity of Christ when he says, "... God, who cannot be grasped, comprehended or seen, allows himself to be seen, comprehended and grasped by men, that he may give life to those who see and receive him."
It struck me during the thread that if Jesus Christ is not, in fact, God a very God, then I cannot know God, who is hidden from mankind by his holiness. The deity of Christ is what makes it possible to know God. (We may insert here that Christ, being confined by his human form, is no longer here; but it is his Spirit dwelling in us who reveals God to us. This is yet another argument for the Trinity and the personhood, as it were, of the Holy Spirit.)
It seems that we might also draw a similar conclusion about our own humanity. I cannot know myself unless Jesus Christ is also fully human, a very man. In coming in the flesh, becoming "man fully alive," he gives us the hope of our own perfection, one we anticipate along with all of creation. When I turn inward and examine myself apart from Christ, I see what is fallen and ugly—a flesh whose hallmarks are sin and depravity. But when we look to Christ's person and work, suddenly our own self-perspective can legitimately change. I cannot become human on my own, but when I am finally conformed to the image of Christ, this body of death will at last be cast off, and I will be free.
In an abortive thread on Theologica this past week, a question was asked about the necessity of the Trinity. This is a sharp dividing line between Christians and those who claim to be Christian—Jehovah's Witnesses deny the deity of Christ, while the Mormons deny the unity of the Godhead, for example.
Iraneaus' quote naturally has some bearing on the Trinity, as he assumes the deity of Christ when he says, "... God, who cannot be grasped, comprehended or seen, allows himself to be seen, comprehended and grasped by men, that he may give life to those who see and receive him."
It struck me during the thread that if Jesus Christ is not, in fact, God a very God, then I cannot know God, who is hidden from mankind by his holiness. The deity of Christ is what makes it possible to know God. (We may insert here that Christ, being confined by his human form, is no longer here; but it is his Spirit dwelling in us who reveals God to us. This is yet another argument for the Trinity and the personhood, as it were, of the Holy Spirit.)
It seems that we might also draw a similar conclusion about our own humanity. I cannot know myself unless Jesus Christ is also fully human, a very man. In coming in the flesh, becoming "man fully alive," he gives us the hope of our own perfection, one we anticipate along with all of creation. When I turn inward and examine myself apart from Christ, I see what is fallen and ugly—a flesh whose hallmarks are sin and depravity. But when we look to Christ's person and work, suddenly our own self-perspective can legitimately change. I cannot become human on my own, but when I am finally conformed to the image of Christ, this body of death will at last be cast off, and I will be free.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
The One Who Is
I had opportunity yesterday to speak with a friend whose persuasions concerning the faith are rather independent. He is a sincere and good man, and I trust a brother in the Lord. As we drove to an appointment together, we spoke some of the faith, particularly concerning the deity of Christ. He is not strictly a trinitarian, but I am at somewhat of a loss to describe what he really believes.
Regardless, it reminded me of one of the great things about being able to look carefully at the Scriptures. Certain sects declare quite vehemently, and against orthodox doctrine, that Jesus Christ is not divine—that is, that he is not the same God revealed in the Old Testament. They invent all sorts of means to counter it, and succeed in persuading themselves that Jesus really did not claim to be God.
For a moment, though, let us consider the text of Exodus 3.13,14:
This is the first time in all of history that God reveals his covenant name to his people.1 It is variously rendered Jehovah or Yahweh, to mimic the four Hebrew letters that are used in its construction.
The Apostle's Bible, a translation of the Septuagint2, renders 3.14 thus:
But the Greek here reads, "EGW EIMI hO WN"—I am the being one, or, as we see it rendered elsewhere, "I am the one who is."
Why is this important? Because this is precisely what Jesus says about himself in Revelation 1.18:
The Greek here is identical to the language in Exodus 3.14, though there are a few words in between in Revelation. It must be understand that the one who is to come is Christ (Acts 1.11, among many others), and he therefore is also "the one who is." He is God who identifies himself in Exodus 3.14 as the I Am.
Redemption is built around the trinity. The death of Christ means nothing if he is only a man. He is my kinsman by birth—he is a man—and so he has claim on me to redeem me. But his life is worth nothing as just a man, exalted or otherwise. He cannot fulfill the law in all its aspects, both in keeping it and taking its punishment, if he is not also God.
[1] It's worth mentioning that God gets a new name in three significant spots in the Scripture. The first is here, when he reveals that he is the one who is. The focal point of history, the cross, reveals God as Jesus Christ (Jn 17.6). At the final bookend, we see that Jesus Christ is given a name that no one else knows (Rev 19.12). I do not think this should be overlooked.
[2] The Septuagint (LXX) is a Greek translation of the Hebrew Old Testament. The name stems from the number of translators, who according to tradition paired off in twos, translated the OT, and returned to quorum with exactly the same translation. It is used most famously by the Eastern Orthodox church. The NT writers more often quote from the LXX than any other OT source. Some others prefer it, believing that later texts have been corrupted to remove or alter Messianic references. (Interested students will hopefully realize that Wikipedia is not the most authoritative of sources, but it is a good place to start.)
Regardless, it reminded me of one of the great things about being able to look carefully at the Scriptures. Certain sects declare quite vehemently, and against orthodox doctrine, that Jesus Christ is not divine—that is, that he is not the same God revealed in the Old Testament. They invent all sorts of means to counter it, and succeed in persuading themselves that Jesus really did not claim to be God.
For a moment, though, let us consider the text of Exodus 3.13,14:
13 And Moses said unto God, Behold, when I come unto the children of Israel, and shall say unto them, The God of your fathers hath sent me unto you; and they shall say to me, What is his name? what shall I say unto them?
14 And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you.
This is the first time in all of history that God reveals his covenant name to his people.1 It is variously rendered Jehovah or Yahweh, to mimic the four Hebrew letters that are used in its construction.
The Apostle's Bible, a translation of the Septuagint2, renders 3.14 thus:
14 And God spoke to Moses, saying, I am THE BEING. And He said, Thus shall you say to the children of Israel, THE BEING has sent me to you.
But the Greek here reads, "EGW EIMI hO WN"—I am the being one, or, as we see it rendered elsewhere, "I am the one who is."
Why is this important? Because this is precisely what Jesus says about himself in Revelation 1.18:
I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending," saith the Lord, "which is, and which was, and which is to come, the Almighty.
The Greek here is identical to the language in Exodus 3.14, though there are a few words in between in Revelation. It must be understand that the one who is to come is Christ (Acts 1.11, among many others), and he therefore is also "the one who is." He is God who identifies himself in Exodus 3.14 as the I Am.
Redemption is built around the trinity. The death of Christ means nothing if he is only a man. He is my kinsman by birth—he is a man—and so he has claim on me to redeem me. But his life is worth nothing as just a man, exalted or otherwise. He cannot fulfill the law in all its aspects, both in keeping it and taking its punishment, if he is not also God.
[1] It's worth mentioning that God gets a new name in three significant spots in the Scripture. The first is here, when he reveals that he is the one who is. The focal point of history, the cross, reveals God as Jesus Christ (Jn 17.6). At the final bookend, we see that Jesus Christ is given a name that no one else knows (Rev 19.12). I do not think this should be overlooked.
[2] The Septuagint (LXX) is a Greek translation of the Hebrew Old Testament. The name stems from the number of translators, who according to tradition paired off in twos, translated the OT, and returned to quorum with exactly the same translation. It is used most famously by the Eastern Orthodox church. The NT writers more often quote from the LXX than any other OT source. Some others prefer it, believing that later texts have been corrupted to remove or alter Messianic references. (Interested students will hopefully realize that Wikipedia is not the most authoritative of sources, but it is a good place to start.)
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