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Here's my take on things, ranging from the place of the kingdom of God in biblical theology (perhaps my favorite topic of all) to my critique of The Da Vinci Code. With the exception of some of the print and CD material on Lulu.com, everything is free (including the downloads on Lulu.com).
In earlier posts I've argued that the flesh-Spirit dualism in Paul is not meant as a contrast between the human and the divine or the material and the immaterial. Rather, at his resurrection Jesus moved from a fleshly mode of human (bodily) existence to a Spiritual mode of human (bodily) existence in a way that anticipates our own destiny as the people of God. The importance of this understanding of the resurrection of Christ cannot be underestimated, as even the last post on resurrection and the Lord's Supper indicates.
Greek dualism is that of two worlds, the visible and the invisible, the phenomenal and the noumenal, becoming and being, appearance and reality. Man belongs to both worlds by virtue of the fact that his is both body and soul or mind. "God" can only be known by the control of the bodily appetitites, that the mind may be free from the material pollutions to contemplate the divine realities. Finally, the soul must escape from the wheel of bodily existence to return to the divine world where it really belongs.In other words, human beings are themselves an incompatible mixture of the material and the divine. The whole point of existence is to cultivate the divine and rational part of our being by controlling and eventually escaping the material and bodily side. You can see how easy it would be understand flesh and Spirit in that way. Flesh is the material part we need to get rid of. Spirit is the divine part we need to protect and nurture.
The Hebrew view is not a dualism of two worlds, but a religious dualism of God versus man. Man is God's creature; creation is the realm of God's constant activity; and God makes himself known and speaks to mean in the ebb and flow of history. Man is not a bipartite creature of the divine and human, of soul and body; in his total being he is God's creature and remains a part of creation. Therefore, the redemption of man and the redemption of creation belong together.Isn't that amazing? Creation and bodily existence isn't something we're trying to escape so we can "go to heaven," as if that's some sort of Spiritual existence outside of time and space. Rather, God deigns and delights to work in creation and in creatures like us to accomplish his purposes. Indeed, he has done so in a consummate way in our resurrected Lord.
In sum, the Greek view is that "God" can be known only by the flight of the soul from the world and history; the Hebrew view is that God can be known because he invades history to meet men in historical experience.He invades history to meet us where we live--in time and space. And we look forward to his doing so in a climactic way at the Second Coming of our Lord. More on that anon.
Speaking of the resurrection, did you know that your understanding of the resurrection affects your understanding of the Lord's Supper--and vice versa? This was brought home to me as I was reading Calvin's Institutes with a grad student last semester. So, is there anything in faith and life that this doctrine doesn't touch?
We say Christ descends to us both by the outward symbol and by his Spirit, that he may truly quicken our souls by the substance of his flesh and blood (IV.17.24; my emphasis).On the other hand, he was emphatic that this partaking of the flesh and blood of Christ could not be understood as actually eating the resurrection body of Christ (somehow present in the elements). Why not? Because a real human body, such as Christ has in his resurrection, simply can't be distributed throughout time and space every time someone celebrates holy communion. Such a body isn't recognizably human:
What is the nature of our flesh? Is it not something that has its own fixed dimension, is contained in a place, is touched, is seen? And why (they say) cannot God make the same flesh occupy many and divers places, be contained in no place, so as to lack measure and form? Madmen, why do you demand that God's power make flesh to be and not to be flesh at the same time!... (IV.17.24)Good point, if perhaps lacking in subtlety. From Calvin's perspective, it's nuts (paraphrasing here) to speak of Christ having a real human resurrection body and then demand that bits of it appear wherever bread and wine is consecrated and received. Human bodies simply don't work that way. Never have. Never will.
Flesh must therefore be flesh; spirit, spirit--each thing in the state and condition wherein God created it. But such is the condition of flesh that it must subsist in one definite place, with its own size and form. With this condition Christ took flesh, giving to it, as Augustine attests, incorruption and glory, and not taking away from it nature and truth (IV.17.24).Think about what this means! When Christ was glorified, he didn't somehow become less human. It was all addition (incorruption and glory), no subtraction (of distinctive time-and-space bodily attributes). And, of course, what is true of Christ's glorified body will be true of ours as well. So, when we celebrate the Lord's Supper, we do indeed proclaim the Lord's death until he comes (1 Cor 11:26). It can also be an occasion to remember the nature of his resurrection--and ours.
I found myself reading through some of the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion this morning. That's not as odd as it sounds. Thanks to my good friend, Skip Burzumato, the 1928 Book of Common Prayer has come to play a rather large role in my morning devotions and, well, the Articles of Religion are at the back. It is true, though, that that makes me an ordained Baptist minister seeking membership in a Presbyterian church and saying my prayers from the Anglican prayer book...
Christ did truly rise from death, and took again his body, with flesh, bones, and all things appertaining to the perfection of Man's nature; wherewith he ascended into Heaven, and there sitteth, until he return to judge all Men at the last day.This truth surely is at the center of the Christian religion. As Skip told me more than once (quoting one of his seminary professors), we believe that "the dust of the earth is seated on the throne of heaven." Jesus is "of one substance with the Father" (citing the second Article there), to be sure. We worship him as such. And yet... he is also the human lord of the universe, reigning from heaven in all his human glory. And it is that glory which we Christians anticipate sharing with him. I never cease to be amazed at this great truth.
Glenn Lucke, of Common Grounds Online, recently encouraged me to respond to La Shawn Barber's call for a blog swarm around the upcoming (May 19, 2006) release of The Da Vinci Code movie. As it turns out, I'll be speaking on that very topic in just a few weeks at Church of the Holy Spirit in Roanoke, Virginia. Time to pull out my copy of DVC and, sigh, read it again...
I slowed down a bit this morning. Not because the list of things I have to do suddenly decreased. Indeed, to get caught up I should making time like some of the cross country runners I so enjoy cheering on in their meets and invitationals around here.
16 Rejoice always, 17 pray constantly, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.The mention of God's will here reminded me of a recent panel discussion I attended on "Finding God's Will in the Job Search"--and made me wish that I had mentioned this passage. For whatever God's specific will may be for our individual lives, this much is plain: he calls us to worship. To gratitude. To the giving of thanks for his blessings. In all circumstances.
Ephesians 5:17-20 17 Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is..., 20 always and for everything giving thanks in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to God the Father.It is the ultimate motivation for even our petitions in prayer. We pray for others so that they may give thanks:
Colossians 3:17 17 And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.
And Paul models such thanksgiving constantly:2 Corinthians 1:11 11 You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us in answer to many prayers.
1 Corinthians 15:57 57 But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.Paul can even say that the world is condemned because of its failure to give thanks!
Ephesians 1:16 16 I do not cease to give thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers...
Philemon 4 4 I thank my God always when I remember you in my prayers...
1 Thessalonians 1:2 2 We give thanks to God always for you all, constantly mentioning you in our prayers...
2 Thessalonians 1:3 3 We are bound to give thanks to God always for you, brethren...
All this makes sense, of course, because our primary vocation as human beings is to worship God. Called to be priests and kings (our twin calling as humans), we are first of all priestly worshipers. All else flows from that.Romans 1:20-21 20 Ever since the creation of the world his invisible nature, namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse; 21 for although they knew God they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking and their senseless minds were darkened.
Ken Elzinga is the Robert C. Taylor Professor of Economics at the University of Virginia and a board member for the Center for Christian Study. As a speaker at the Abilene Christian University centennial celebration, he recently addressed himself to this question: "What is the difference between Christians in higher education and Christian higher education?" An excerpt follows from an online version of this address. You may find the full text here.
Christians in higher education, at secular schools, can be placed in two different bins or categories. I’m not happy with the terms, but I’ll call one group the “privatizers” and the other, the “evangelicals"...
...Privatizers in higher education view their faith as disconnected from their work as professors. They are involved in a local church (often heavily involved); if they are married, they are probably faithful to their spouse; if they have children, they love their kids; and their names do not show up in the newspapers having done something that embarrasses their school.
But these professors, the privatizers, are not identified at their schools as Christians; this aspect of their identity may never be known by students or colleagues. Not that their faith is a deep or dark secret; they probably consider the information irrelevant. They are identified as professors of chemistry or accounting or German literature. That’s it. Their Christian faith is private and apart from their jobs.
These professors live in two worlds, not simultaneously, but sequentially: one is secular; that’s the campus; the other is sacred; that’s their church.
Now let me say, as an aside, that by my observation some Christian faculty at Christian colleges and universities live like privatizers as well. I have yet to decide whether this is sad, or scandalous, but they are not the subject of this discussion.
The second kind of Christian professor in higher education I’ll call the evangelical. The professors, researchers, and scholars in higher education I have labeled the evangelicals believe that the quest for truth begins and ends with Jesus. Their work involves teaching and research in their disciplines. But their calling entails extending the reign of Jesus into all realms.
The evangelicals resonate with the words of the Dutch Reformer Abraham Kuyper: “There is not one square inch of the entire creation about which Jesus Christ does not cry out, ‘This is mine! This belongs to me.’"...
I had a conversation with a friend earlier in the week and, typical of this friend, he got me thinking. He was lamenting the tendency of the church to look just like the world around it. I see his point, to be sure. But God often works in almost imperceptible ways. Sometimes we must look for even the smallest signs of grace. This story--written while my family and I were in Nigeria some years ago--came to mind.
Ogbomosho, June 1998
The political climate has been stormy here lately as well. As I sit here at my desk in our bedroom, I can hear the sounds of shouting and rioting in the town... I came home a little while ago from the office because I thought the sound of shots (teargas, not bullets, from what I've heard) coming from outside the compound might alarm Nicolien. You've all probably heard that Chief Moshood Abiola died yesterday, apparently of a heart attack. Abiola was the president-elect of the annulled 1993 elections, whom the late General Sani Abacha then threw into jail in 1994. After General Abacha's sudden death last month (June 10th), Nigerian hopes (and especially hopes in this part of the country) were fixed on Chief Abiola: perhaps the military would finally go back to the barracks and allow Abiola to be the president. This hope was probably unrealistic. Nevertheless, Abiola's death comes as a great shock and deep disappointment to many people. Hence the rioting. (We'll stay put until things calm down, of course.)
Nicolien just came in with some of the latest news. She says that the Yoruba people here (we're in Yorubaland and Chief Abiola was Yoruba) have been blaming the Northerners for Abiola's death (the military leadership is Northern). Apparently the Yoruba have been stopping Northern truckdrivers (from the Hausa tribe) and are not allowing them to pass. The road has basically been blocked. Fortunately, we haven't heard of any violence here in Ogbomosho. (Scratch that: Nicolien just told me they destroyed the property of the Hausa chief here.) One concern is that a few missionaries on vacation here from the North went out fishing early this morning, before things became unsettled. We'd like to reel them back in at this point, if we could.
My own experience with rioting is fairly limited, I'm thankful to say. Unfortunately, my closest encounters have been of the church kind. I think I mentioned the time I went to preach at an Igede church, only to find the thatched church shelter empty when I arrived a few minutes before the service was to begin. The church had emptied when the Igede people had heard of an Igede - Yoruba dispute in their village. Fortunately, the matter was resolved fairly quickly and the people were able to return to church. That I had planned to preach from the book of Habakkuk (which deals with the problem of suffering and violence) that day was no mistake, I think.
I made a more intimate acquaintance with rioting at church sometime last February. As most of you know, my family attends a very small church out in the leper colony. The people who attend church there are the living dead in many ways. Shunned by family and society, these victims of Hanson's disease are desperately poor and physically debilitated. I told you the story of Mary Atonwa, the elderly woman from the leper colony who died so unexpectedly (to me at least) and who was buried rather unceremoniously in an overgrown field by the church. Her life and death were not so much tragic as pitiful; it is certainly true of her that "if for this life only she hoped in Christ, she is of all people most to be pitied" (1 Cor 15:19). Ultimately, it is the Christian hope of resurrection from the dead (like our Lord) that gives meaning and purpose to the suffering and trials of those who believe in him. That's easy to forget, though, when you're hungry, physically handicapped, and short on cash.
When we arrived at the church that Sunday morning it was clear there was a problem. Once again, no one was in the church (shades of the Igede experience). In fact, no one seemed to be inside at all. Instead, everyone seemed to be outside, shouting at each other and occasionally brandishing pieces of wood or other makeshift weapons. It was mass confusion. And here we were, the missionaries and the (non-Yoruba) student-pastor, not a one of which could speak Yoruba with any fluency (this situation was well past the polite-exchange-of-elaborate-greetings stage). To tell the truth, I wasn't too keen on wading into the brawl; on the other hand, I was even less enthusiastic about standing around until people started clubbing each other instead of attending church. So the pastor and I joined the running around and shouting, except that we were speaking English and half-begging, half-commanding people to go to church where we could settle the issue in a more Christ-like manner. After no little struggle ("put that wood down!" "go to the church!") and not a few false starts (halfway to the church and my man breaks away to begin shouting again), we finally managed to get most of the people into the church and seated. Whew.... Now what?
At first I sat down in the pew, very relieved that my student (and not I) was the pastor. What a mess. Then it dawned on me that as a resident missionary and the pastor's teacher (and elder), I would almost certainly be expected to take a leading role in what followed. Oh joy. So I walked up to the front, spoke briefly to the pastor, and found myself sitting next to him a moment later, on the program to give the message for the day. From what little I had been able to gather from the pastor and church leader, it seemed that some people in the church had been upset over what they considered to be an unfair distribution of clothing given to the church. As I understood it at the time some of the people didn't want the newcomers to receive any of the gifts. I was disturbed by this, to say the least. When I got up to speak I told the story of the good Samaritan, Jesus' answer to the Pharisee who asked "Who is my neighbor?" I tried to make clear that the answer to that question cannot be defined in terms of family or village or tribe or nation, that God is one and his people are one, that we are called "Christians" because we are called to be like Christ--in his self-sacrificing love as well as his resurrection glory. After I finished, the wife of the late chaplain of the whole leper colony came in and spoke for a while as well.
I'd like to say that the whole church was immediately overwhelmed with remorse and a dramatic transformation took place even as I spoke. The process was a little more drawn out than that. I'm happy to report (instead) that we didn't return to a full-scale riot immediately after the church service, even though a police officer was waiting outside the church door and ended up carting off five or six people for questioning at the police station. The situation was well enough in hand by an hour or so after the service that the pastor and I felt we could safely leave. We promised to return later that afternoon to check on things. And that's what we did. When we came back around mid-afternoon things were very quiet and I was inclined to leave them that way. However, the pastor and the chaplain's wife insisted on having a village meeting (images of Riot Redivivus in my head), so for the next two hours or so we listened to every possible side of the story. Actually, there was more than one story and each story had so many sides that I ended up being completely confused. Finally, with Solomonic wisdom I proclaimed that there was no way to resolve all the knotty and tangled issues: those who had something to forgive simply needed to forgive (as Christ forgave them) and those who had something to confess and ask forgiveness for needed to do that too. Then we joined hands and sang--in Yoruba or English--"Blessed be the tie that binds." When the pastor and I left, there was only one irascible old lady still shouting.
I'm not sure why I've shared this whole story in such detail, apart from the fact that it made a big impression on me. It certainly isn't your typical "inspiring missionary story." Maybe this story is a bit more true to life, though. God can and does work in dramatic ways, sometimes. More often, I think, he moves in small steps, a little bit at a time, in many different ways and with more than one means of grace. I don't know about you, but for me a movement from full-scale riot to one irascible old lady shouting is a pretty good illustration of progressive sanctification. It's not perfect peace yet, but it's moving in that direction. And one day there will be perfect peace.
Speaking of peace, things seem to have calmed down in the town. I don't hear any more shouts from that direction. The guys who went out fishing have returned too, so that's good. Come to think of it, the sun is out now too and shining more brightly than it has for a few days. Things are definitely looking up.
My wife's parents have been in town for almost two weeks now. That's something, because my wife is Dutch and, well, so are they. So they've come all the way from the Netherlands to be with us. Our family has been blessed to see them more often than we might expect, given the distance, but it's still very special when "Opa" and "Oma" come to visit. It's one thing to tell them about all that's going on here; it's quite another for them to be here and eat dinner with us, talk in our living room, meet our friends, see their granddaughter run cross-country, take a stroll on the downtown mall together. It's a gift and we're grateful for it.
I still remember seeing The Purple Rose of Cairo when it came out in 1985. I was in Europe, studying in Munich for my second semester abroad in college--but even more intent upon spending as much time as possible with my Dutch fiancee a bit further north. It was during one of those times in the Netherlands that we went to see, as it turned out, the latest Woody Allen flick. Only one scene from the entire movie remained with me: the image of poet and explorer Tom Baxter leaping off the movie screen into the life of Celia, a forlorn depression-era waitress (which clip you can see by clicking the movie poster above).
The other day I listened to a Christian speaker develop the topic of "excellence." Though the speaker was a likeable man with passion and charisma, my heart sank as he spoke. He defined Christian excellence almost exclusively in terms of achieving high-quality performance in every area of life.
Perhaps you've heard about "Theology on Tap," a Roman Catholic ministry which has been dispensing large draughts of good theological conversation, often at a bar or grill, for some 25 years now. Well, a group of graduate students and I had our own version of "Theology on Tap" this morning at the locally famous "Bodo's Bagels." Call it "Theology on Rye." Marble rye, to be exact.
A clearly developed evangelical theology of the "not yet" keeps... a historical vision at the forefront, while dismissing every secular attempt at utopia as, at best, a pretender to the throne. Thus, evangelicals can affirm, as did George Eldon Ladd, the conclusion of E. C. Gardner: "Christian eschatology means the end of all social and political utopias which expect to achieve a perfect pattern of peaceful society by human means and human strength." Thus, a Kingdom-oriented, inaugurated eschatology can inform evangelicalism by reminding the movement that, as Carl Henry has counseled, all secularist and evolutionary models of utopian progress have "borrowed the biblical doctrine of the coming kingdom of God but cannibalized it."We have, then, no reason to despair and every reason to hope: the kingdom of God will come in its fullness to this world. It will come with Christ at his return. And yet it will not fully come before that time, whatever we do. In that way our hubris is chastened even as our hope is kept alive. Which is just what we need in the wake of Katrina.
Russell Moore has written a piece entitled "Christ, Katrina, and My Hometown." This is what the "already" and the "not yet" looks like in a world groaning under tsunamis and hurricanes. An excerpt follows:
As Christians we know something about Katrina that the rest of the world just can’t know: This is not the way it is meant to be. The Psalmist reminds us that God originally put all things under the feet of Adam (Psalm 8:6). But the writer of Hebrews reminds us that we do not yet see all things under the feet of humanity (Hebrews 2:8), although we do see a crucified and resurrected Jesus (Hebrews 2:9). The apostle Paul likewise reminds us that the creation itself groans under the reign of sin and death, waiting for its rightful rulers to assume their thrones in the resurrection (Romans 8:20-23). The storms and the waves are one more reminder that the "already" has not yet been replaced by the "not yet."Categories: Moore, Katrina, Sonship, Romans, Eschatology
Against the backdrop of the hurricane, consider the contrast between the prophet Jonah and the Messiah Jesus. Like Jonah, Jesus is confronted by a seemingly murderous storm, with his fellow travelers convinced they would perish. Whereas Jonah the sinner could only still the storm by throwing himself into its midst, Jesus exercises dominion over the winds and the waves with his voice. Mark reminds us that the boat's occupants remarked: "Who then is this, that even wind and sea obey him?" (Mark 4:41).
The CNN meteorologists can explain the hurricane only in terms of barometric pressure and water temperatures. We know, however, that at its root this natural disaster isn't natural at all. It is a creation crying out, "Adam, where are you?"
The Darden Christian Fellowship (DCF) 2005-2006 has now officially begun. I mentioned on Monday that this was the week for graduate picnics, DCF tonight and GCF (Graduate Christian Fellowship) on Saturday evening. It was, I think, a great success. The student leadership did a great job organizing things; I provided the grill; the Study Center provided the food; our faculty advisor did the grilling honors; and we all worked to keep the conversational decibel level high...
Well, summer is over as far as the Wilder family is concerned. Despite at least one son's gallant attempt to delay its onset by refusing to think or talk about it ("No, Dad, I don't know my teachers' names; school hasn't started yet!"), the school year began today.
I've been arguing (in the past few posts) that Romans 1:3-4 is all about the resurrection transition in Jesus from flesh to Spirit, from a natural human kingship to a glorified and exalted human kingship, from participation in this age to his present experience and enjoyment of the prerogatives of the age to come. Romans 1:3-4 is a contrast between two stages in Jesus' humanity, not a contrast between his human and divine natures.
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For... you have received a spirit of sonship (Rom 8:15-15)Yet our present sonship points beyond itself to, well, being sons of God in power:
For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God...(Rom 8:19).So much could be said here, but it will suffice for the moment simply to note that language usually reserved for the Lord Jesus and those waiting for him at his return ("revealing," "eager longing") is here applied--in the plural--to believers ("sons of God"). Together with the OT usage of "son of God" (to refer to a king), this is the strongest argument for not taking "son of God" in Paul as a way of referring to the divine nature. Human kingship is in view, in two stages: an initial stage followed by its full consummation. It happened this way with Jesus. It happens this way with us.
...we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved (Rom 8:23b-24a).We're already sons of God, but we're waiting for our final adoption as sons, which is here identified with resurrection, "the redemption of our bodies." This is an astounding hope. Indeed, Paul goes so far as to say that it was "in this hope we were saved." According to Paul, our Christian hope is to share in the human kingship which Jesus now enjoys in his resurrected and glorified human body!
In yesterday's post I made the perhaps surprising claim that Romans 1:3-4 is not really a contrast between the human and divine natures of Jesus. It is, rather, a reference to the way in which he moved from a "fleshly" stage of human existence to a "Spiritual" stage of human existence. In this way (as I also began to explain) Jesus shows what God always intended for human beings: a move from a merely fleshly stage of existence to a fully Spiritual stage. To understand what happened to Jesus is to gain a glimpse into our own destiny as those believe in Jesus and hope for the same human destiny.
12 When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your fathers, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. 13 He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. 14 I will be to him a father, and he shall be to me a son. When he commits iniquity, I will discipline him with the rod of men, with the stripes of the sons of men, 15 but my steadfast love will not depart from him, as I took it from Saul, whom I put away from before you.In this passage (and others like Ps 2) it is the descendants of David who are considered the sons of God.
One of my favorite passages in Scripture came up today in my devotional reading. The first four verses of that chapter are a real window into Paul's way of thinking about what we've now come to call "inaugurated eschatology," that whole notion that God's "eschatological" (end-time) purposes have already begun (been "inaugurated") in Christ in a way that spills over into our lives...
Older interpreters read Romans 1:3-4 within the matrix of classical patristic Christology as a statement of the two natures of Christ. But the contrast in view is not between the two natures but the two states of Christ, and more precisely between the two aeons of his existence: "according to the flesh" and "according to the Spirit"; his humiliation and his exaltation. His resurrection thus constitutes him messianic son of God with power; in it he is adopted as the Man of the new age.Let me unpack that a bit. Romans 1:3-4 speaks of Paul's apostolic call to preach the gospel concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord" (ESV).
For a brief, shining moment sometime early last Saturday afternoon the entire Wilder family was at home. Valerie and I had returned from running camp and Westminster (respectively), John had come home a day early from Boy Scout camp with a stomach bug or food poisoning, Tom had just arrived from the same camp with a newly-broken foot, and Anna Lena had flown up from spending some time with her godmother in Alabama. The rendezvous didn't last long... Nicolien was off to what became a double shift at the hospital (a night-shift nurse didn't show up) and John (now recovered from his stomach issues) was off to visit his cousin in northern Virginia the next day. Valerie left for another running camp on Monday.
Against the debates between the dispensationalists and covenantalists on whether the reign of Christ was best understood as present within the life of the church or the heart of the believer, or future in the millennial Kingdom from a restored Davidic throne, Ladd posited his proposal: the Kingdom has arrived "already" in the person of Jesus and awaits a "not yet" consummation in the millennial Kingdom and in the eternal state. For Ladd, this understanding represented more than just a mediating approach between dispensationalism and covenantal amillennialism. It represented instead an attempt to forge a full-fledged evangelical theology of the Kingdom.This "already" and "not yet" (inaugurated eschatological) approach has huge implications for how we understand what Christ has already accomplished, how he will finish what he has begun, and how we are to live our lives in the meantime. But all that will have to wait for future posts.
After a few days' respite here at Westminster, I'll be on the road again today--heading up to Princeton to pick up my daughter from running camp and then back to Charlottesville by this evening. But I should at least begin to deliver on my promise to continue discussing Russell Moore's interesting book, The Kingdom of Christ...
I'll get back to my response to The Kingdom of Christ soon. First, however, I can't resist passing along some comments I heard on the radio yesterday, when I happened upon one of Terry Gross's Fresh Air interviews. This time she was speaking with Sir Christopher Frayling, who has now written Once Upon a Time in Italy: The Westerns of Sergeo Leone. Sergio Leone is best known as the creator of the spaghetti western genre, beginning with a film that came out the same year as Billy Wilder's Kiss Me Stupid (see my first post): A Fistful of Dollars (starring Clint Eastwood) in 1964...
Every summer it seems to happen at least once: the Wilder family gets blasted in four or five directions at once. This is that week this summer. I'm writing in a coffee shop right around the corner from Westminster Theological Seminary, having dropped my oldest daughter off at a running camp near here yesterday. My two sons are at Scout camp this week and I just talked to my youngest daughter right before she boarded a plane to spend with her godmother and family in Alabama. Nicolien (my wife) is the only one left in Charlottesville.
Reading is often a juggling act for me. This summer I've either finished or am in various stages of reading (or listening to) Richard Middleton's The Liberating Image, Anthony Hoekema's The Bible and the Future, Russell Moore's The Kingdom of Christ, Matthew Scully's Dominion, Dostoevsky's The Brother's Karamazov, and John Updike's Seek My Face. That's not counting the books I've ordered but haven't gotten to yet (with Peter Enns' Inspiration and Incarnation high on that list).
The Kingdom of God is not confined within the limits of the Church and its activities. It embraces the whole of Christian life. It is the transfiguration of the social order. The Church is one social institution alongside of the family, the industrial organization of the society, and the State. The Kingdom of God is in all these, and realizes itself through them all.