Theology Thursday Book Review: Feeding Your Appetites
I started reading Feeding Your Appetites, by Stephen Arterburn last year and finished it this year. And I haven’t reviewed it up till now for two reasons:
- I didn’t know how to review it without being really, really transparent
- I didn’t really feel like reviewing it
So laziness and self-consciousness. That’s about the sum of it. But then this week, Tyler shared an item on Google Reader titled “If a Fat Man Can Lead a Church…”. (You can go read it if you want to. It’s a short post with long discussion in the comments. Then you can come back and see how I think this ties in to my current book review.)
First, how about I discuss what Feeding Your Appetites is about? As the title suggests, it’s about the many kinds of appetites we have and how to feed them properly. The appetites discussed are:
- Appetite for Fellowship with God
- Appetite for Pleasure
- Appetite for Food
- Appetite for Sex
- Appetite for Authority and Power
- Appetite for Work
- Appetite for Companionship
- Appetite for Wisdom
The underlying philosophy can be summed up by a quote from the forward:
So I set out on a journey to understand what I had to do to get my appetites under control. Along the way I learned something amazing: every human being has an inborn desire to know God, but our personal and selfish wants get in the way. Our desire for knowledge of our Creator is taken hostage, and we find ourselves captured instead by appetites for foods, feelings, or experiences.
Of course, the appetites described in this book are not bad in themselves. In fact, Arterburn goes to great lengths to make it clear that they’re all good things, but things which can be abused as substitutes for other unfulfilled appetites, the primary one being the appetite for fellowship with God.
(To be honest, I question the very premise of the book. The idea that all humans have an innate desire for God sounds like Christianese to me. I’m not saying it’s a wrong idea, but I’m just not convinced.)
The book is directed at anyone who has one or more appetites out of control, but I didn’t really go into it looking for a self-help book. I must admit I got it to read it with a friend, and it was cheap! Cheap books good! Reading book with friend good!
And I don’t find myself to have any completely out-of-control appetites. I don’t drink. I don’t gamble. I don’t try to control people. I don’t have any particular temptation to look at pornography. Of course, I’m carrying around a few extra pounds here and there that I’d rather not carry. So my appetite for food must be at least slightly off.
One of the things that becomes clear in the book is that we tend to abuse one appetite in substitution for another, with the abused appetite bringing pleasure to cover the pain of the unfulfilled appetite. We’ve all heard of “comfort food” and “emotional eating,” I imagine.
(By the way, it was interesting reading this article about the whole Tiger Woods thing after reading this book.)
I actually didn’t intend to do a full book review here, so I’m not even going to discuss the rest of the book, except to mention that I liked the way it ended. Arterburn didn’t expect that reading a book would solve everything, counter to what a librophile like myself would probably hope. But he hoped to provide some guidance for getting started on straightening out our out-of-whack appetites.
One interesting thing I noticed in myself while reading this book was the way our struggles seem natural to us, while others’ struggles look bad and sinful. I could sit there reading, repulsed at the idea of gambling addiction or porn addiction (and even scoff at the idea of labeling it addiction), while figuring that whatever was wrong with my appetites was both pretty much normal and perfectly understandable.
And that’s where the tie-in to the “Fat Man Leading a Church” post comes in. If you look through the comments (and I admire anyone who could read all of them), you’ll find some very reasonable ones (like mine – see, me opinion good, you opinion bad), but then a whole bunch of vitriol from either the “but gays are gross” or “fat people lack self-control” sides. And quite a few puerile “sin is sin” comments (yes, I used the word “puerile” for that overused and under-thought-out statement).
Anyhow, the more polarized comments on both sides seem to stem from someone standing in judgment of somebody else’s struggles. Though I must admit that I’m standing in judgment of all those commenters, calling what they’re doing wrong. It’s wonderful being human, isn’t it?
Well, this wasn’t much of a book review. Maybe I could get a comment or two from someone else who’s read the book, filling in something else about it. Say, perhaps, someone I see several times a week? Who spotted the cheap book and ordered a couple of copies, then slipped one to me for a reasonable fee? Anybody like that out there?
Theology Thursday: Perfect Through Suffering
Well, I asked for somebody to lob me a topic for Theology Thursday, and it happened! JonV, former little kid and now full-fledged adult, working as a Clean Water Engineer with the Mennonite Central Committee in Tete, Mozambique, filled out the Suggest a Topic! form, and now I’ll attempt to do his question justice.
The big news here, though, is that Jon referred to me in the email as “Seth” and not “Mr. Heasley.” Keep in mind I’ve known him since he was shorter than I am, back when The Fair Elaine and I were working with the youth in our old church. Back in the previous century, you know.
Jon’s question is from Hebrews 5:8 and following, which says:
Hebrews 5:8-10 (ESV)
8 Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. 9 And being made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey him, 10 being designated by God a high priest after the order of Melchizedek.
This passage seems to imply that Jesus had some growing to do before he could be our High Priest. More than that, it seems to imply there was some perfection that Jesus lacked. This seems offensive to our “He’s the perfect man, he’s the Lord’s own son” sensibilities. And yes, that’s a classic Petra reference (The Coloring Song).
So there’s the question: What does it mean that Jesus learned obedience or became perfect?
Right off the top, I’d point out that there’s really only one question here. The two parts of the question, I believe, are a bit of parallelism. So “Christ learned obedience through suffering” = “He was made perfect.” I don’t think there’s a way to separate the two thoughts.
Of course, it’s tough to address a question from the Epistles without having the greater context of the letter in mind. So, being a reader, I read the book of Hebrews over the weekend. There are a couple of verses that stick out to most readers, but they’re on the Eternal Security question, and I think the emphasis on them distracts from the greater arc of the letter. I’ve read Hebrews probably ten times now, but the beauty of the letter really hit me this time.
For those unfamiliar with it, the writer of Hebrews (Luke? Apollos? Titus?) makes a sustained argument about Christ’s role as the High Priest of the New Covenant, and addresses how his new role affects humans. An outline looks something like this: (and you can find something similar in most study Bibles)
- Chapter 1 – Christ superior to angels
- Chapter 2 – Christ made like us
- Chapter 3, 4 – Christ greater than Moses
- Chapter 5 – Christ as priest despite his non-Levitical lineage
- Chapter 6 – Warnings against apostasy
- Chapter 7 – Christ superior to the Levitical Priests
- Chapter 8 – Christ as the priest of a New Covenant
- Chapter 9 – The Earthly Temple was never anything but a copy of the Heavenly Temple
- Chapter 10 – Christ’s sacrifice superior to animal sacrifice
- Chapter 11 – How we access Christ’s work: Through Faith
- Chapter 12 – Our response: Faith and endurance through suffering
- Chapter 13 – The sacrifices God honors: Praise and Serving Others
I wanted to include this outline first to inspire someone to go and read Hebrews. As I wrote, it’s very easy to get freaked by the warnings against apostasy and to miss the greater points about how Christ accomplished our salvation.
It’s really impossible to answer Jon’s question without tracing it through the whole book, or at least a couple of the chapters. Because Chapter 5 isn’t the only place where Christ’s being perfected shows up. In fact, there’s a much earlier reference:
Hebrews 2:10 (ESV)
10 For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.
Keep in mind that Chapter 2 discusses how Christ was made like us. Further down, we have this verse:
Hebrews 2:17 (ESV)
17 Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.
In this sense, we’re looking at how Christ was made perfect for his role. He had to be like us, and to suffer as we suffer, in order for him to truly represent us.
(BTW, I want to make it clear that this idea didn’t originate with me. I did some Googling and whatnot and this is the position I think is correct, or at least makes sense.)
So anyway, I’d sum up the writer’s argument this way: Christ was the mediator of a better covenant, was qualified to be its High Priest by being appointed to it by God, was made fitting for it by what he suffered, and further qualified by enduring suffering in obedience. Which brings me to Hebrews 7:
Hebrews 7:26 (ESV)
26 For it was indeed fitting that we should have such a high priest, holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens.
One more thing I’m going to throw in here. The Internet is a great tool for researching Bible Blogs. I looked up the word “to make perfect” ("teleioo", for the record) from 2:10 and 5:9, and in the range of definitions is “to be found perfect.” Going with that definition, we wouldn’t have to do any wordful wrangling. It would just be relating that Christ endured his sufferings perfectly, not that the sufferings somehow made him perfect.
Well, Jon, I hope that helps. I even managed to keep it under a thousand words! Feel free to weigh in in the comments.
Theology Thursday: Something to Sing About
Reading the Bible can be interesting sometimes, just trying to figure out what it is, exactly, I’m reading. There’s some history, which would seem fairly straightforward, but even then I know that this particular history was recorded for a reason, so there’s a didactic twist to it. And there are other apparent history portions that make me wonder if they’re written as history but intended only to teach a lesson.
And then there are the Epistles, where I’m conscious of reading someone else’s mail. And then there’s poetry. Reading Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, and Job takes an extra bit of concentration sometimes, because the imagery and language style differ from Western Poetry.
And if the Epistles are like reading someone else’s mail, with all the challenges inherent there, what about Song of Songs? It’s like reading someone else’s love letters. Or even more than that, like spying on two lovers.
Throughout history, Blblical interpreters, uncomfortable with the idea that Song of Songs is basically about sex, have taken various approaches to allegorizing it. It’s about God’s relationship with Israel! It’s about Christ and the Church!
Yeah, it’s about sex. Which isn’t a bad thing, of course, because it’s nice to have a straightforward approval given, in the Bible, for sexuality in its proper place.
And yet, I’m still not sure what to make of it. I mean, it’s supposedly a celebration of married love, but isn’t it ostensibly penned by Solomon? Of the seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines? Doesn’t the whole polygamy thing dilute, somewhat, the specialness?
Then again, maybe I’m missing the point. Any tips on interpreting this book?
By the way, let the record show that I have now officially blogged about Song of Songs. One more crossed off The List, four more to go!
(Oh, and if you’re wondering why I’m in Song of Songs in February, it’s because I’ve been reading a chapter per day of Psalms and the other Poeticals. I’m saving Job for last.)
I believe I’m now out of topics for the foreseeable future, though I have a few theology books I could finish up and review. But if you wanted to lob me a topic, now would be a good time. (Use the Suggest a Topic!!! link!)
Theology Thursday: Saints or Sinners?
I generally try to come to Theology Thursday with a well-thought-out idea, complete with Bible references. But today I just wanted to write about something I’ve been wondering about, but without most of the actual effort involved with making a Biblical case for it. Call it laziness if you want.
It seems that it’s the thing to do these days for Christians to call themselves sinners. Or to emphasis their sinfulness, by way of (perhaps?) trying not to look pompous or judgmental.
Certainly, it wouldn’t necessarily help my witness if I went around calling myself a saint, right? Or should I update my Facebook profile to say something like this:
“Seth: Husband, Father, Baseball Fan, Saint.”
But isn’t just a bit odd to insert “Sinner” there, too? Is that really part of who I am, any more than “Baseball Fan” is? Do I really need to emphasize my own sinfulness? And mightn’t I just as easily put “Human” for all the information it gives? Where does this emanate from?
I suspect there are a number of different motivations that feed this tendency for us to insist that we’re “just sinners, saved by grace.”
- It’s a defense against unbelievers who call Christians hypocrites. If we call ourselves sinners, then we can hardly be called hypocritical when we fail, right?
- It just looks pious.
- We feel, acutely, our own sinfulness and express our gratitude to God by emphasizing it.
- The word “saint” just doesn’t fly today.
I mainly want to write about #4, but I’ll take comments on any of them, or suggestions for other possible motivations. I do think that #3 is certainly a common reason, particularly among men, for going with the Sinner label. I could be off-base here, but I think the types of things men tend to struggle with get more attention, and therefore are felt more acutely. (Definitely generalizing here.)
But I definitely think that the reason we can’t really get away with '”saint” is that it’s not a well-understood word these days. The word itself conjures up, at least to Protestants, images of icons or statues in a Catholic or Orthodox church, and has an almost sterile, ivory tower connotation.
(This in spite of the fact that any treatment of the Lives of the Saints will normally have ample evidence that these saintly folks were awfully human, too.)
“Saint” simply means “holy ones.” Well, that’s not much of an improvement, is it? “Holy” is another misunderstood word, because it doesn’t mean “perfect,” but rather “set apart.”
I know I said I wouldn’t get all Biblical on this topic, but go look at the salutations of the Epistles in the New Testament. A goodly percentage of them are addressed to “the saints” in a particular city. Certainly there was no implication of the people of the churches in those ancient cities being any less sinful than we are today.
At the risk of sounding like Stuart Smalley, isn’t there some value in positive affirmation? I’m not into the Word of Faith doctrine, in which faith is seen as a force and words as having some mystical power. But it seems to me that calling ourselves “sinners” is similar to a person who’s been sober twenty years calling himself an alcoholic. (And here I really step in it.)
Yes, we are sinners. But we’ve been bought with a price and set apart to be saints.
Thoughts?
Theology Thursday Lite: In All Points
I have to say that I’m enjoying my less rigorous read-through this year. I’m finding I’m enjoying the reading more, going at a slower pace. I’ve even got a few Theology Thursday topics rolling around between my ears.
So, it’s my first New Testament post of the year!
Matthew 4 details Christ’s temptation in the wilderness. The three temptations are:
- To change stones to bread, to fill his hunger
- To jump off the Temple, counting on God’s protection
- To worship Satan, in exchange for the kingdoms of the world
You can find any number of creative interpretations of the three temptations and what they represent. But the thing I’ve been pondering is this:
Could Jesus have sinned?
Grand Theological Term Alert! The doctrine of The Impeccability of Christ says that Jesus was incapable of sin. I do not hold to this doctrine, and the reason is simple: I don’t think it’s Biblical.
Hebrews 4:15 (ESV, my emphasis):
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.
Okay, yes, I’ve strayed a bit from Matthew, but in my defense, I did once do a read-through where I read Matthew and then went straight to Hebrews (whoa, and my first Bible-Blog post was about it.)
I think the verse pretty much says it all, but I’ll admit that my thoughts on this are more logical than anything. And in that respect, I’m willing to have my logic adjusted.
I guess my objection is also a bit emotional, because if Jesus couldn’t sin, I’m not sure what was admirable or meritorious about His resisting temptation. How is it even remarkable in any way? And why would the writer of Hebrews think to mention it?
After all, how could Christ sympathize with us if the temptation He experienced was anything but just like ours?
For instance, I can’t really sympathize with an alcoholic, because I have no particular temptation to drink. (In fact, I’m putting it somewhat mildly. I think beer and wine taste alarmingly like vomit. And that’s when trying what others call “the good stuff.”)
Maybe I’m way off base here, but I think I’m making sense. Comments?
Theology Thursday Book Review: The Creed
I’m singing in church this weekend, and I was also asked to lead the reading of The Apostles’ Creed for one of the services, and so you just know what my reaction was going to be, don’t you?
Okay, so my initial reaction was, “No, thanks.” Nervous as I can get about singing into a microphone, it’s ten times worse to speak into one. However, the service I’ll be speaking in is a small one, and the atmosphere is very family, so I’m going to stretch myself a bit.
My next reaction was, “I’ve got a book about that!” The Creed: What You Believe and Why, by Michael Bauman, is a concise 
treatment of The Apostles’ Creed, explaining each point and adding in testimonials from Christians about what the Creed means to them. I picked it up for a buck from CBD. Mmm…dollar books.
One would hope that most pew-dwellers would already know what each line means, rather than just reciting the Creed without understanding, but then a book such as this would be unnecessary.
Having grown up in a decidedly non-liturgical church (Assemblies of God), I didn’t grow up knowing any Creed other than Petra’s. (Which I still think is an awesome song.) But after taking a Church History course in college, and doing quite a bit of self-study on the topic, I’m now reasonably familiar with the various Creeds.
There are a couple of points I disagree with the author on, but that’s hardly surprising given my tendency to disagree with everyone on something. The first disagreement comes in the Introduction:
A well-written creed marks out the truths that the Bible reveals and requires for salvation.
I’m not one to put knowledge tests on salvation, given that the Disciples were apparently saved before knowing much more than “Jesus is Lord and Christ.” Yes, we have more knowledge today, and so we have more responsibility to shepherd that knowledge, but imperfect belief in Christ is still belief in Christ. Errors can be corrected after conversion.
The other issue is Bauman’s treatment of “He descended into hell,” in which he makes the common mistake of not recognizing that “hell” is a bad translation of “Hades,” which is better understood as The Grave, or the place of the dead, and not a place of punishment. The idea that Christ suffered the tortures of Hell is interesting, to say the least, but I’m not aware of any Biblical case that can be built for it.
One other minor thing was that Bauman recycles the very common idea that God the Father turned away from Christ when he was on the cross. I’ve written before that the idea makes sense but isn’t explicitly taught in Scripture and shouldn’t be taught so dogmatically.
Other than that, though, The Creed is a nice, short work of basic apologetics, and it would be very useful as a resource for new converts or those just wanting to brush up on the particulars of their Faith.
But, of course, I was looking for something I could use, man! And I found it. Actually, several things. First, Bauman mentions the legend of the origin of the Creed. The legend says that the Twelve all collaborated on it (after Pentecost, so including Matthias rather than Bad Judas), with each of them contributing one statement to it. A cool idea, to be sure, but not provable.
The next thing is the fact that The Creed is personal. Even though it’s often spoken communally, it’s phrased “I believe,” not “we believe.”
And finally, Bauman emphasizes that there are two sides to faith. The first is the mere intellectual assent, stating things like “I believe this.” The other side is the trust aspect of faith, where we say, “I believe in Jesus.”
It’s the difference between knowing facts about God and knowing God. It’s the difference between saying, “I know what I believe,” and saying with Paul, “I know whom I have believed.” It’s certainly useful to know what you believe about God, but it’s only a stepping stone on the way to knowing Him.
So now I guess I’m ready-ish for Sunday.
Theology Thursday: Original Guilt or Original Sin?
I love coming back to the beginning of a Bible read-through. There’s something comforting in reading Genesis again. Of course, that comfort usually wears off about the time I get into Exodus. But I still revel in the beginning.
I’ve thought a lot about Origins in the last few years, and at this point I’m decidedly undecided on what to make of Genesis 1-3. I’m definitely not a Young-Earth Creationist, but I’m not ready to throw Adam and Eve out, either.
I’m planning on doing a post on Origins at some point, but I’m not ready for it yet. If I run short of topics, I’ll double back and hit it later. Or I’ll wait until next year. That’s the kind of priority I put on the topic.
As I said (well, wrote), I’m not ready to throw Adam and Eve out, because I still have to deal with The Fall. It’s a topic I haven’t studied as much as I need to, and at some point I want to read Bonhoeffer’s Creation and Fall.
But what I do understand is this: something happened. I know. Profound, right?
Now, some people want to say that Adam’s sin is somehow inherited by all his progeny, and not in some vague spiritual way, but as a stain on the soul that makes even a newborn ineligible for Heaven. I reject this idea.
I also reject the idea that, somehow, Adam’s sin explains our tendency to sin. And I think I can explain why I reject it.
Quick, off the top of your head, come up with two names of people in the Bible who didn’t have a fallen nature. (Old Testament only, please. And I’m not sure Jesus would be a correct answer anyway. I know this gets me into trouble at times, but I believe He was like us. But come back next week for more on that topic.)
Did you come up with the names? Or were you distracted by my little parenthetical (and inflammatory) statement? The two names I was looking for were:
Adam and Eve!!!
Yes, here we have an example of two people who were born without any stain of Original Sin on them. And how did they fare? You got it. They still sinned. They didn’t need a Fallen Nature to make them fall. So Original Sin certainly isn’t a good explanation for Why We Sin.
I’m not any closer to understanding our sinful natures, because without recourse to Original Sin, there’s a disturbing possibility: God created us with the tendency toward sin and then expected us to battle that tendency. Or He just created in us the ability to choose and didn’t tip the scales toward obedience or disobedience and we all get to choose (seems to fit with Romans 5:12). It’s an interesting brain-burner anyway.
So when it really comes down to it, I don’t have a problem with the doctrine of Original Sin, even if I don’t understand it, so much as the doctrine of Original Guilt. Yes, our First Parents sinned. Yes, we all sin. But we bear the burden of our sins, and not the sins of our parents. And I think the weight of Scripture is on my side here, what with all the insistence that children will not be punished for their parents’ sins. (And no, I don’t think Exodus 20:5 proves me wrong here.)
Thoughts? Original Sin or Original Guilt? Are we born stained? I’m happy to be corrected here.
Theology Thursday: Two Little J’s
Yes, I realize I used an apostrophe in the title. And I am aware that “Js” would’ve been perfectly acceptable in a way that “As” wouldn’t be. (Because “As” is a word and not clearly the plural of the letter A.) But since I’d rather be consistent in my letter pluralization, it’s “J’s” for me. (Numbers I generally leave unapostrophied. Stupid spell-check doesn’t recognize “unapostrophied,” an obviously good word. Or “pluralization” for that matter)
Well, the whole year has been leading up to this, my last Theology Thursday post of the year. And all I’m going to do is ramble very briefly about 3 John and Jude, since they’re the last danglers from The List that I can get to this year. The others will have to wait until I get back around to them sometime around the middle of next year.
Which, by the way, reminds me to remind you that I’m totally open to topic suggestions, or even Bible questions you’ve always wondered about and just didn’t have anyone to ask. Not that I’ll know the answers, but I can ferret out an answer with the best of them, so fire away if you’d like. I also take book recommendations, though I’ve got a stack of theology books to work through next year. A quick count tells me the tally is seven. So that should get me through a few months. But I’m not promising to read one per week, so still lob me those suggestions. (Use the Suggest a Topic! form.)
For anyone wanting to read along with my Bible read-through, I’m planning on reading the English Standard Version again. My extremely exact and precise plan is this:
- Read one Psalm per day. You might actually enjoy them one at a time, and they’re great when read as prayers (in general).
- Read between three and five chapters (five is more likely than three, but whatever makes sense at the time) of the Old Testament per day, reading straight through, skipping Psalms (on account of I’ve already read it by the time I get to it) and perhaps Proverbs (on account of I finished Psalms and Proverbs is next).
- One day per week, which will be decided on later (I’m going to say Tuesday for now), read five chapters of the New Testament. Why not one chapter per day in addition to the OT? Well, because the NT is downright boring to read one chapter at a time. The Epistles, in particular, just should not be read a chapter at a time. You lose the whole flow of them.
(You could do three chapters of the OT, one in the NT if you want. Don’t let my absolute statements throw you off, even if I’m absolutely right.)
Generally I finish in late November by following this plan. The really great part about reading the Psalms one at a time is twofold:
- Psalms shouldn’t be read in big chunks. How can you meditate on something you’re flying through? They should be read individually in order to be fully appreciated. (Though I’ll admit that I get impatient to finish Psalms and double-up or triple-up on the last few dozen of them, on account of their being shortish. Lousy spell-check again!)
- By the time you finish Psalms, you’ve pulled ahead of your church’s read-through by several weeks. Alternatively, you’ve just built in several weeks of “I got bogged down in (round up the usual suspects here)” catch-up time.
So much for this being a quick post. But it’s the end of the year, and this way maybe I’ll inspire a couple of non-read-throughers (spell-check!) to sally forth and kick some serious Bible-reading booty next year.
(Seriously, if you haven’t read through at least once, you really owe it to yourself. And it gets easier every year. And if you’re a Dad, do you really want, when your child asks you a tough Bible question, to say, “Ask your mother.”? Didn’t think so. So man up and read that thing! And do it in the morning. Get up early if you have to. If you try for night-reading, it won’t happen. Trust me on this.)
(And if you honestly don’t think you’re up to a full read-through, at least do the New Testament. It’s really ridiculously easy. One. Chapter. Per. Day. Not challenging. Do it!)
(Too many parentheticals? I can never tell?)
Right, so wasn’t I going to write about 3 John? Jude, even? I’m already 750 words in and now I’m getting to today’s topic? Feel free to bail if you need to.
(At this point I’ve let this post sit for about a week and a half, and now I’m finding that I have no idea what I was going to write about the two little J’s.)
So, what to write about 3 John? Well, something that everyone might not notice is that the letter is apparently from “The Elder.” Historically, this was thought to be just John using a different title for himself, and a fitting one at that given that this book is generally accepted to have been written when John was in his eighties or nineties.
But there’s another school of thought that says “The Elder” referred to another John in Ephesus, who compiled and published John’s Gospel (adding a few bits here and there, particularly Chapter 21), and wrote the Johannine Letters and Revelation.
(I think there’s a good argument to be made about John 21 having been written by another author, but I’ll leave it until another time.)
Of course, none of this is unique to 3 John. It’s a very short book, one of the shortest in the Bible, only slightly longer than 2 John. In both 1 and 2 John, mention is made of antichrists, being those who deny that Jesus came in the flesh. In 3 John, a different kind of Bad Guy is mentioned, the kind who loves to have authority in the Church.
There are quite a few Bad Guys mentioned in the New Testament, among them:
- Hymenaeus and Alexander (1 Tim 1:20 and 2 Tim 4:14)
- Hymenaeus and Philetus (2 Tim 2:17)
- Diotrephes (3 John 9)
Interestingly, John follows up the mention of Diotrephes with a mention of Confirmed Good Guy Demetrius. Nice balance there, eh?
On the subject of Bad Guys, Jude makes mention of a group of false teachers. And then he insults them. Over and over. The letter was already a short one, but it could’ve been much shorter had he not decided to compare the false teachers to the following:
- Unthinking animals
- Balaam, deceiving people for pay
- Korah, perishing in their rebellion
- Dangerous reefs that can shipwreck the godly
- Shameless shepherds who care only for themselves
- Clouds blowing overhead without giving rain
- Autumn trees, doubly dead, bearing no fruit and uprooted
- Wild waves on the sea
- Wandering stars
Well, I’ve officially used up all my words for the year now, and I think that’s a wrap for my final post. I’ll certainly look to finish out any Bible books I’ve still missed next year. The list is much shorter now, comprising only:
- Ruth
- 1 Kings
- 2 Chronicles
- Esther
- Song of Songs
Looks like somewhere around April I’ll be starting up with these. So again, lob me any questions/ideas you might have for topics. I’ve got next week lined up already, and then I’m wide open.
I wish you a Blessed and Happy New Year!
Theology Thursday: Prophetic Pop-ups, Part Z
(Bible-Reading Update: Finished with the Once Through the Old, Twice Through the New Read-Through! Now I just have to go back and finish reading Halley’s Bible Handbook.)
I’ve always thought that whoever put the Minor Prophets in their current collected order did us all a favor by having four of the last five alternate their first letters. Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah is fairly easy to remember. Though I suppose one still has to remember which H and which Z goes where…
You know, this introduction worked much better when I had it titled “Catching some HZs.” I love coming up with titles, and since I probably won’t use it next week, I just had to tell somebody, because I really liked it.
Of course, I’m still trying to write Theology Thursday posts about all the books of the Bible I’ve managed to miss. Habakkuk I’ve covered. Reeeeallly tangentially, or to use a word I’ve seen used by such persons as myself, orthogonally. Actually, to be honest, I really just wanted to write that word again. Because if you follow the link I provided, you’ll find the Habakkuk passage is quite important, even material, to the argument I make.
I’ll save Zechariah for next week, and even throw in a bit of Haggai because they go together really nicely. But what a smattering of topics one finds in Zechariah. Jesus and zombies. Seriously. Tell your friends.
But for this week, it’s just Zephaniah. (I was going to do Haggai and Zephaniah, hence the defunct “HZ” title, but they just don’t play well together.)
Side note: Thinking of nicknames for Zephaniah, I thought “Zeph,” which reminds me of either third or sixth grade (Mr. Sayles for both), when we had two girls named Stephanie, and Mr. Sayles called one of them “Steph” for short. Which sounds a lot like “Seth” when you’re not really paying attention. Not that I was ever not really paying attention. I was just paying attention to thinking about Star Wars or something.
I also may have been called “Zeph” by microcephalic baseball coaches. I know Zeke and Zed were employed as approximations of my extremely difficult name. And I definitely had a boss (my rock-crushing job) who called me “Zeth.”
(A Theology Thursday post is like a box of chocolates, don’t you think?)
One thing you find when reading the prophets is that, after predicting judgment on Israel or Judah, there’s generally a ray of hope in there, too. Zephaniah prophesied only a short time before Babylon came and sacked Jerusalem in 586BC. But he promised them that it wouldn’t be the end of them:
Zephaniah 3:15 (NLT)
15 For the Lord will remove his hand of judgment
and will disperse the armies of your enemy.
And the Lord himself, the King of Israel,
will live among you!
At last your troubles will be over,
and you will never again fear disaster.
The interesting thing you notice here is that the last line I just quoted seems to fly in the face of what we know of the rest of the history of Israel. In 70AD, the Romans sacked Jerusalem, and later made a complete mess of the rest of the country. And need I mention the dreadful things that befell the Jews at the hands of the Nazis? Or any of the other pogroms executed against them in various places?
So what’s this supposed promise that they’ll never see trouble again?
Mightn’t it be that this prophecy applied to a certain group and not the nation as a whole? The believing remnant, perhaps? Those who would eventually follow Christ? It would certainly make the “King of Israel will live among you” part make more sense.
For the sake of balance here, a premillenialist would apply this to a Future Millennial Reign of Christ, which manages to handle the literal interpretation quite well. The problem with this interpretation is that this prophecy really doesn’t seem to be a far-future prediction, given that Judah hadn’t even been exiled yet.
Either way, it seems this prophecy was targeted at something that would be fulfilled after the return from exile. I just favor a past/present fulfillment of it.
So, that’s one HZ down, one to go!
Theology Thursday: Prophet Pop-ups, Part the First
I really wish that when I compiled my List of Uncovered Books of the Bible, that there wouldn’t have been so many close together. What’s a guy to do when, in a three week span, he’s supposed to read basically all the Minor Prophets and the last few Epistles, and they’re all on the List?
Micah, Nahum, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, 3 John, and Jude. I’ve read them all now. I have no idea how I’ll manage to cover them all. Oh, I could leave a few for next year, but that’s just not something I’m prepared to do. Besides, if I did it, I’d be in the same boat next year. I’m all for procrastination, but this would eat away at me for a year.
(By the way, I haven’t done a Bible-Reading Update recently. So here it is: I’m done with the OT, and up to Revelation on my second pass through the NT. So I’ll finish next week if not earlier.)
Micah’s not difficult, really. There’s the famous Micah 6:8 passage from a song that reminds me of college. Love that one. Nahum’s a bit more difficult, being a prophecy against Ninevah. No being swallowed by a big fish to make it more Sunday Schoolish.
The nice thing is that I think the Prophets, particularly the Minor Prophets (or the Book of the Twelve in the Hebrew Bible) are probably the least-read of any books of the Bible. So anything I write might actually seem insightful. If only I had some insight.
I think I’ll just pull a couple of key quotes out and see what happens. First, Micah. I couldn’t go with the more known passage. Although this one isn’t exactly unknown, either:
Micah 4:3-4 (NLT):
3 The Lord will mediate between peoples
and will settle disputes between strong nations far away.
They will hammer their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will no longer fight against nation,
nor train for war anymore.
4 Everyone will live in peace and prosperity,
enjoying their own grapevines and fig trees,
for there will be nothing to fear.
Sometimes, we Christians wonder how the Jews could have missed that Jesus was their Messiah. We point to the Virgin Birth and his Suffering Servant role in fulfilling famous passages from Isaiah. What we don’t recognize is that Jesus didn’t do the things they expected. This passage from Micah is one that doesn’t seem to have been fulfilled, and this is what many Jews were looking for. Peace. Prosperity. This certainly hasn’t happened.
Christians often point to a future Millennial Reign of Christ for fulfillment of this prophecy. But since the Old Testament really doesn’t predict the whole Rapture/Millennium/Second Coming timeline (defaulting to premillennialism here), the argument fails to persuade.
For someone like me, who doesn’t look for a future Millennium, I look at this in a non-literal way and say that Christ did fulfill it and that the peace and prosperity are spiritually fulfilled in the Church. So if you haven’t heard that before, you’ve heard it now.
By the way, Micah was evidently from Moresheth, which is how “More of Seth” would sound if you held onto your tongue while saying it. I’m not suggesting you try it, but you’re wondering if I’m right, aren’t you?
Now, to Nahum.
Nahum 1:7-8 (NLT)
7 The Lord is good,
a strong refuge when trouble comes.
He is close to those who trust in him.
8 But he will sweep away his enemies
in an overwhelming flood.
He will pursue his foes
into the darkness of night.
This one reminds of Paul’s “Behold the kindness and severity of God.”
I don’t have any further insight on this though. Tune in again next week for non-insight on one of the other dangling uncovered books.