I'm reading in Leviticus now, having moved from the New Testament (where I recently finished second Thessalonians) to the Old. My time in the Scripture usually involves more verse by verse study, but in this case I'm trying a slightly different tack—short notes jotted on each logical unit to get an overall view. I'm hoping that it moves faster, for starters, and that my view is "big picture" more than "nitty gritty."
The first several chapters of Leviticus deal with the sacrificial system. The text is rife with types of Christ, and I hope that in the coming weeks I'll have some examples and commentary on them and how we might see them realized in his person and work.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Saturday, July 7, 2007
John 6
In Bible study lately, we've been working in John. The theme of the book is found in John 20.30,31:
The last two weeks have seen us ploughing through chapter six, which records the feeding of the 5000 and the subsequent fallout.
To most readers, this is probably a fairly well-known story, so I'll skip the synopsis to what follows after the miracle.
The narrative is that Jesus and his disciples leave for Capernaum across the sea of Galilee after the feeding. The next day, the people he fed couldn't find him conveniently and sought him out. The latter half of John six documents the conversation the people have with Christ.
As seems to be a habit, Jesus rarely answers their questions directly. The questions here are directly fleshly in nature. The first is, "When did you come to Capernaum," which Jesus rightly interprets as, "We're hungry. Why did you leave in the middle of the night without making some breakfast first?"
He counsels them thus: "Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal." The word for "labor" here is related to the one we see in the next verse, when the people ask, "What must we do to work the works of God?" We might paraphrase, "Uhhhhh, it doesn't sound like you're going to make us breakfast out of thin air. Will you teach us how to do it ourselves?"
Once again, Jesus directs their thinking to the Spirit: "This is the work of God, that you believe on him whom he has sent."
This doesn't satisfy, so they ask again, "What sign will you show us? Moses gave us bread from heaven." They are, in other words, politely nudging him again to their fleshly need—breakfast.
After a bit more thrust and parry, Jesus finally tells them that he is the bread from heaven, that it is his body that will satisfy. He gave them earthly bread to expose their spiritual need for his body, the heavenly bread.
There are a lot of facets to the miracle: the abundance left over, the fulfillment of the type of manna in the desert, the subtle references to Christ as the Word, the followup to the living water (John 4). It's a little much to go into, but at least we can look at it with fresh eyes.
And I would be remiss not to mention how it looks forward to the Last Supper. In the book of Mark, we read of three times that Jesus breaks bread: once for the four thousand, once for the five, and once for his disciples. It is in the last that we see him breaking his body; what a revelation that it indeed is enough.
30 Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book; 31 but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.
The last two weeks have seen us ploughing through chapter six, which records the feeding of the 5000 and the subsequent fallout.
To most readers, this is probably a fairly well-known story, so I'll skip the synopsis to what follows after the miracle.
The narrative is that Jesus and his disciples leave for Capernaum across the sea of Galilee after the feeding. The next day, the people he fed couldn't find him conveniently and sought him out. The latter half of John six documents the conversation the people have with Christ.
As seems to be a habit, Jesus rarely answers their questions directly. The questions here are directly fleshly in nature. The first is, "When did you come to Capernaum," which Jesus rightly interprets as, "We're hungry. Why did you leave in the middle of the night without making some breakfast first?"
He counsels them thus: "Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal." The word for "labor" here is related to the one we see in the next verse, when the people ask, "What must we do to work the works of God?" We might paraphrase, "Uhhhhh, it doesn't sound like you're going to make us breakfast out of thin air. Will you teach us how to do it ourselves?"
Once again, Jesus directs their thinking to the Spirit: "This is the work of God, that you believe on him whom he has sent."
This doesn't satisfy, so they ask again, "What sign will you show us? Moses gave us bread from heaven." They are, in other words, politely nudging him again to their fleshly need—breakfast.
After a bit more thrust and parry, Jesus finally tells them that he is the bread from heaven, that it is his body that will satisfy. He gave them earthly bread to expose their spiritual need for his body, the heavenly bread.
There are a lot of facets to the miracle: the abundance left over, the fulfillment of the type of manna in the desert, the subtle references to Christ as the Word, the followup to the living water (John 4). It's a little much to go into, but at least we can look at it with fresh eyes.
And I would be remiss not to mention how it looks forward to the Last Supper. In the book of Mark, we read of three times that Jesus breaks bread: once for the four thousand, once for the five, and once for his disciples. It is in the last that we see him breaking his body; what a revelation that it indeed is enough.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Current Readings
I'm still processing first Thessalonians a bit. In a previous entry, I spent a little time discussing progressive sanctification in the light of 1 The 4, looking particularly at the first eight verses.
I've tried to let some of the ideas percolate a little bit in my head. I've since moved on to the second epistle, but I'm still thinking about the end of the first. In chapter five, for instance, several different commands are issued, especially in vv 14-22. I wonder if perhaps these are left for us to consider as a part of the sanctification process in 4.3-6.
But we hit a very interesting passage immediately following:
There's too much here to work with at midnight on a Tuesday evening, but it seems to me that we have here a germ of the idea of trichotomy—the idea that man consists of three fundamental elements (spirit, soul, body), and the expectation of sanctification.
The link to chapter four is pretty unmistakable—God's will is our sanctification (4.3), and he also called us in sanctification (4.7).
It seems a little trite to me on the face of things to suggest that sanctification is living a good life here on earth—I think there is a somewhat more eternal aspect to it that needs to be explored (e.g., as I mentioned before, in Hebrews 10). And I'm still trying to wrap my head around how the two sides of it fit together harmoniously. (Can we really say that the one who called us won't sanctify us completely given these verses? But this is precisely what we suggest when we say that sanctification is entirely bound up in human effort or will.)
The idea of trichotomy here also raises some questions for me, since I have held the position for a long time that the regenerate spirit is incorruptible and the body not. It makes me wonder why the body should be sanctified if it is to pass away and be replaced with another (per 1Co 15).
I've tried to let some of the ideas percolate a little bit in my head. I've since moved on to the second epistle, but I'm still thinking about the end of the first. In chapter five, for instance, several different commands are issued, especially in vv 14-22. I wonder if perhaps these are left for us to consider as a part of the sanctification process in 4.3-6.
But we hit a very interesting passage immediately following:
23 Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely: and may your whole spirit, soul, and body be preserved blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. 24 He who calls you [is] faithful, who also will do [it].
There's too much here to work with at midnight on a Tuesday evening, but it seems to me that we have here a germ of the idea of trichotomy—the idea that man consists of three fundamental elements (spirit, soul, body), and the expectation of sanctification.
The link to chapter four is pretty unmistakable—God's will is our sanctification (4.3), and he also called us in sanctification (4.7).
It seems a little trite to me on the face of things to suggest that sanctification is living a good life here on earth—I think there is a somewhat more eternal aspect to it that needs to be explored (e.g., as I mentioned before, in Hebrews 10). And I'm still trying to wrap my head around how the two sides of it fit together harmoniously. (Can we really say that the one who called us won't sanctify us completely given these verses? But this is precisely what we suggest when we say that sanctification is entirely bound up in human effort or will.)
The idea of trichotomy here also raises some questions for me, since I have held the position for a long time that the regenerate spirit is incorruptible and the body not. It makes me wonder why the body should be sanctified if it is to pass away and be replaced with another (per 1Co 15).
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