John Mark Hicks

In this post I will consider the use of 1 Corinthians 16:1-4 among Churches of Christ as a legal prescription or pattern for weekly giving as an act of worship in the Sunday assembly. My purpose is to illustrate the use of the CEI hermeneutic to establish biblical authority. In my next few posts I will offer an alternative hermeneutical approach.

Stone-Campbell Historical Perspective

Alexander Campbell, like many British dissenters before him and even John Calvin himself, believed Acts 2:42 provided a guideline for Christian assemblies. He identified “the fellowship” as the sharing of monetary resources (or, the contribution). In his Christian Baptist series on the “Restoration of the Ancient Order of Things” he authors only one article on “The Fellowship” (January 2, 1826, 209-211). “The contribution,” Campbell writes, “the weekly contribution–the distribution to the poor saints, we contend is a part of the religion of Jesus Christ.” He bases this conclusion on 1 Corinthians 16:1-4: “That every christian congregation should follow the examples of those which were set in order by the apostles, is, I trust, a proposition which few of those who love the founder of the christian institution, will question. And that the apostles did give orders to the congregations in Galatia and to the Corinthians to make a weekly contribution for the poor saints, is a matter that cannot be disputed.”

While Campbell believed “the contribution” was an apostolic institution, he did not think his version of the “Restoration of the Ancient Order of Things” should be used “as a test of christian character or terms of christian communion” (Christian Baptist, September 3, 1827, 370). He thought it was apostolic practice, but it was not a test of fellowship.

In contrast to Campbell’s attitude, between 1865-1875 a legal attitude developed regarding worship activities in the assembly based on the notion of “positive law.”  In 1870, H. Turner asked the question “Does the New Testament determine the elements of the public worship?” His answer was that there are “five public acts of worship” (the first time I have seen that phrase in Stone-Campbell literature): teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, prayers, and singing (Christian Quarterly, January 1870, 250-258). This became an exclusive and required list because “in all acts of worship, we must do only what is prescribed in the New Testament” (Moses Lard, “True Worship of God,” Lard’s Quarterly 4 [October 1867], 395). “The original worship, in all of its items,” Benjamin Franklin wrote, “must be maintained or all is lost” (“Distinctive Plea,” American Christian Review 14 [5 December 1871], 388).  The “five acts of worship”–without subtraction or addition–became a legal test of a faithful Sunday assembly. It was, apparently, all or nothing in terms of worshipping in “spirit and truth.”

In 1865 Albert Allen wrote a landmark article for Lard’s Quarterly (“The Contribution,” October 1864, 64-72) in which he articulated a clear hermeneutic for the contribution as a prescribed weekly act of worship in the assembly. Acts 2:42 suggested to Allen that the contribution was apostolic practice.  Consequently, “we may presume,” Allen wrote, “to find some law regulating the observance of this duty, and the object for which done” (my emphasis; p. 69).  [Did anyone hear the Reformed reguative principle in that statement?] Allen presumes that if it was an apostolic practice, then it must have specific legal regulations. Why would he presume that? Because the Baconian method, the Regulative principle, and a constitutional literary model demanded that every practice have some legal regulations. Consequently, since he saw 1 Corinthians 16:1-4 as that regulatory text, he identified the laws of giving as: 

1. That it must be done on every first day of the week.
2. That the amount thus obtained was to be put into the treasury of the church.
3. That each ought to give as he was prospered of the Lord

George Austen, in a follow-up article on “The Contribution” (Lard’s Quarterly [April 1865], 264), suggested that the “laws which govern” the contribution must identify “time, place, circumstance.”  These are:

1. On the first day of the week (every week).
2. When assembled with the church.
3. As the Lord has prospered the worshiper.

In addition, Austen understood this “fixed law of God” as intended for the “wants of the poor and the furtherance of the gospel” (p. 265).

If God intended the contribution as an “act of worship,” according to the hermeneutical presuppositions, then somewhere Scripture must regulate this. Consequently, Bible study meant searching Scripture for the “regulations” or “laws” that governed this act of worship.  Identifying the act of worship in Acts 2:42, Allen and Austen found the regulative laws in 1 Corinthians 16:1-2. If this text does not regulate the contribution, then no text does and it becomes an unauthorized act to take up money in the assembly on Sunday because every act of worship in the assembly needs prescriptive authority…so the argument goes. Since congregations take up a contribution, and everyone agrees that this is a good thing, then there must be prescriptive authority for it and regulatory guidelines somewhere in the New Testament concerning it!

During the 1870s the segment of the Stone-Campbell Movement  ultimately identified as “Churches of Christ” became solidified in their understanding of the “five acts of worship” as an exclusive legal requirement for faithful churches. The weekly contribution is one of those acts and without such an act in the weekly assembly there is no true worship. A church must have a weekly contribution to remain faithful and keep their candlestick in the presence of Jesus.

God, then, has specificed when, who, and how  we should support the financial needs of the kingdom of God.  But did he specify for what?  Well, that becomes quite controversial among Churches of Christ in the 20th century.

The Pattern Argument

Roy Deaver, “The Corinthian Collection–God’s Financial Plan for His Church,” in Studies in 1 Corinthians, ed. Dub McClish (Denton, TX: Pearl Street Church of Christ, 1982), 263-71) provides a good example of the pattern argument from 1 Corinthians 16:1-4. There are, of course, many other examples of this argument.

Deaver’s presuppositions are important.  In 1 Corinthians 16:1-4, “Paul (inspiration) sets out God’s financial plan for his (God’s) churches. These instructions were not given for the Corinthan brethren only” as 1 Corinthians 4:17 states that Timothy will remind the Corinthians about his “ways which are in Christ, even as” Paul teaches “everywhere in every church” (p. 264).  The argument, then, is that whatever Paul taught the Corinthians, he taught every church.  Whatever is taught every church is normative for all churches throughout history. Therefore, every congregation today must collect money during the Sunday weekly assembly.

The assumption is that what Paul teaches in 1 Corinthians 16:1-4 is what he teaches in “every church.” Interesting, is it not, that he had not previously taught the Corinthians about it until this letter and then only in response to a question from the Corinthians (“now concerning…”)? They had to ask a question about the collection of money, but if Paul had previously taught the Corinthians his “ways” (Timothy was to remind them) then they should have already known.  Apparently, “God’s financial plan” was not part of the “ways” that Paul was talking about, that is, it was not part of what Paul taught in every church.

Deaver argues tht Paul commanded a specific arrangement–on every first day of the week every person (or family unit) must contribute to the church treasury (“treasuring up” or “storing up”) according to how God has prospered them.  “This is God’s plan for financing his work. God’s plan is the best plan, and God’s plan is the only right plan” (p. 269).

The text is explicitly occasional and specific–a collection for churches in Judea from Gentile churches (Galatia and Achaia–it does not include Macedonia). It appears as an expedient arrangement in the context of Paul’s third missionary journey. Indeed, it seems Paul introduces a new practice in response to a question from the Corinthians about how to proceed with the collection. It may be that there were no other churches practicing this and it appears that the Galatians and Corinthians were not practicing it prior to the instruction. There is also considerable ambiguity in the text about what it means to “store up” (treasury or putting personal money aside?) and where (home or assembly?). The verb understood as “command” by Deaver has more the force of setting up an arrangement (e.g., do it this way or putting things in a particular order) rather than an imperative that derives from the nature of things (or the character of God).  If it is a command for all churches, why are the Macedonians not included in this arrangement (2 Corinthians 8:1-5), and–in fact–he does not intend to command the Corinthians at all (2 Corinthians 8:8).

Hermeneutical Questions

But let’s grant the exegesis offered by Deaver, that is, corporate weekly Sunday giving into a common fund for the poor in Jerusalem.  While I exegetically tend to favor this understanding, it is not certain; there are some ambiguities in the text (e.g., did they put it aside at home or was it given in an assembly).   Rather, I want to raise some questions about the hermeneutical use of this text to construct a pattern.

Broadly, the argument assumes that everything Paul “commands” Corinth is something he commanded all of the congregations he planted. It further assumes that everything he commands Corinth (and every other congregation he planted) is normative for every congregation in the history of the church, including congregations today.  In other words, it is the Texas two-step–Paul commands X, therefore we do X.

More specifically, the use of this text within patternistic constructionism illustrates how one discerns the pattern, including the limits and boundaries of the patternl and how complicated that process is. Indeed, it is a process that would be unavailable to the Corinthians themselves when the read their own letter since they would not have the full resources that the hermeneutic demands in order to discern the pattern in the text.

1.  Is the purpose for which the church gave an exclusive one?  This collection was for the poor saints in Jerusalem. Should Sunday contributions be limited to such since this is all that is specified in this authorizing text?  One might say that this is a specific application of a generic principle, that is, the church may use this method in order to meet any legitimate need and is not necessarily limited to this specific need (cf. Guy N. Woods, Open Forum, 1976, p. 356).  The legitimate need would thus expand to include buildings, ministerial salaries, janitorial staff, landscaping, international evangelistic work, etc. Here is where the complexity arises. One must decide what is generic and what is specific because within the hermeneutic whatever is intentionally specific is exclusive of all other coordinating particulars (e.g., “sing” excludes “play” because “play” is a coordinate of “sing” under the generic category of “music”). So, what is specific and what is generic in this text? What does the generic include? How does one identify the generic? How does one determine “legitimate need” according to the pattern?

A result of this discussion has been divisions over whether to use church funds to put a kitchen in the building, whether to support full-time preachers, whether to building gyms, whether to fund social/recreational activities, etc. Churches have divided over those issues as they attempted to discern the “pattern” inherent in 1 Corinthians 16:1-4.

2.  Is the contribution into the common fund something exclusive to Sunday? The text specifies the first day of the week and reading it within the context of the epistle there is no other time specified. Is the “contribution” as an act of public worship is limited to Sunday only in much the same way that the Lord’s Supper–based on one text in Acts 20:7 (the only text that identifies the specific day as “first day of the week”)–is limited to Sunday only for many within Churches of Christ? Here is where the complexity arises.  The contribution is not limited to Sunday if one can find examples or infer principles from other texts within the New Testament that one might also take up a contribution on other days of the week.  Consequently, 1 Corinthians 16:1-4 does not limit giving to Sunday because there are other examples or principles that negate such a restriction while Acts 20:7 limits the Lord’s Supper to Sunday because there are no other examples or principles that negate that restriction. But is there any clear, explicit example in the New Testament of Christians giving on any day other than Sunday? Even if there was, this would not have been available to the Corinthian readers and apparently Paul had not taught them about “timing” previous to this text.

While it has not been a common point, I have heard it argued on occasion that churches should not take up a collection on Wednesday evening because it belongs only to Sunday (my father was one of these at one point in his life). I have heard objections to missionaries taking up collections, for example, on a Wednesday evening because there is no authority in the New Testament for the church to do such a thing except on Sunday. I have even experienced the compromise that a collection would be taken up after the closing prayer of the Wednesday evening service so that it would be “officially” an act of public worship but a contribution by individuals.  Given the patternist concern and their deep conviction to be biblical, I understand their point! Unfortunately, those who do not know the “common sense” method, think the whole discussion is frivolous.

3.  Is a free will offering the only way a Christian may give to the common fund?  To put it another way, are other forms of fundraising excluded by this specific injunction in 1 Corinthians 16:1-4? Does this specific exclude all other forms of collecting money? Again, the complexity rests in the nature of the specific/generic construction.  Is this free will offering on Sunday a specific of a broader generic (e.g., Corinth, like Galatia, should raise money this way but it does not mean it is the only way to do it) or is it a specific that excludes any other coordinate fundraising method? The method proposes that if there are not other examples of fundraising then the silence regarding other methods verifies the exclusivity of this method.

This, too, has divided churches and created aggitation within congregations.  May the Youth Group conduct a car wash to raise money for a mission trip or to feed hungry children?  May a Bible Class host a Yard Sale on the church parking lot to supplement the church budget? May a church buy a house and then sell it for a profit to supplement their budget? May a church put their money in a CD to earn interest on their money?

4.  Must Christians give every week? If the text is a legal prescription, then Christians must give every week in the assembly.  They cannot use bank drafts (because it is not in the assembly), or give monthly, or give annually.   We might say that they give as they have been prospered and if they are paid monthly, then they give monthly.  But this does not fit the specifics of the text itself–it “commands” the Christians to give every week in the Sunday assembly. Is the specific indeed a real specific that excludes other alternatives (monthly, annually, etc.) or is a generic principle that includes other alternatives? The complexity of the hermeneutic forces us into another seemingly frivolous discussion.

While I have not known any church divisions over this point, I have it heard it passionately discussed. It is the fruit of the hermeneutic that whether a believer gives to his congregation annually, monthly, bi-weekly or weekly becomes a point of passionate contention about worshipping in “spirit and truth.”

Perspectives

My point in this post is not to offer an alternative reading of 1 Corinthians 16:1-4.  Rather, it is to understand the presuppositions, assumptions, particular exegetical decisions, and the complexity of the process by which Churches of Christ have generally concluded that:

Every Christian ought to contribute weekly to the common fund (treasury) of their local congregation, every congregation ought to take up a weekly contribution as part of their Sunday assembly as an act of worship necessary for faithful assembling (worshipping in “spirit and truth”), free will offerings are the only legitimate method for raising money for the common fund of the congregation, and the common fund is only for the legitimate needs of the church’s life and ministry.

I wonder if Paul had all that in mind when he penned 1 Corinthians 16:1-4. (And there are still questions unanswered–how do we determine a “legitimate need,” for example?) The CEI method–seeking a pattern, determining the nature of what we must find, and applying conceptual distinctions to the text that are alien to it–forces Paul to say this.

Ultimately, the method (regulative principle, CEI, Baconianism, constitutional literary model, etc.) decides not only what the apostles practiced, but also determines for Scripture what it must tell us about what they practiced.  If they practiced “fellowship,” then Scripture must tell how, when, for what, and where they practiced it so that we might legally conform to the pattern in the text. We presume Scripture must do this because we read Scripture as Baconian hermeneuters through the lens of a constitutional literary model. In other words, the method tells Scripture what Scripture must provide.  And if we go to Scripture expecting to find X (when, for what, where, and how), we will probably find it, even if it is not there.

At bottom, the method abuses Paul’s words and makes him say something he did not say.

Is there a better way of reading and applying those words?  I think so…but that is for the next couple of posts.  This one is already too long.

“It ain’t that complicated.”

My recent series on “theological hermeneutics” may seem complicated. I may have made it look complicated. But I don’t think it is complicated at all.

The method for which I argued does call for inductive Bible study, reflection, contemplation, holistic thinking, attention to the plot (metanarrative) in the theodrama, prayer, communal dialogue, and participation in God’s story. The more difficult part is living out the story rather than understanding it. Complications most arise when our sinful natures resist embracing God’s intent for our lives or we look for something that is not there (expecting something that God did not provide).

Spiritual Process

Understanding the divine drama within Scripture and discerning the divine intent for our lives is as much a spiritual as an intellectual act. Our sinful natures blind our intellects and debilitate our spiritual sensibilities. Consequently, every hermeneutical adventure must begin with prayer.

Every hermeneutical act participates in the cosmic and spiritual struggle to embrace and embody God’s intent for us. Through it we seek to discern the kingdom of God at work in the world and in our lives.

The agent of this spiritual work of God is the Holy Spirit.  The role of the Spirit in redemption is the application of that redemption to the life of the community and individuals, and this includes spiritual transformation. Good hermeneutics is part of that transformation. God created us for hermeneutics (see my series on that point), but chaos corrupted its goodness. The Spirit transorms our hearts and minds to read the Story “better,” that is, we understand, internalize, apply and live it.

We can hinder that process by our attitudes and heart, but the Spirit can also overcome our cognitively misguided hermeneutical conclusions by the power of his transforming presence. In other words, we might have a terrible cognitive hermeneutic, but yet live transformed lives. But the reason for transformed living is not found in how well we have understood everything correctly, but because God has been at work in us. The whole person reads the text, and the Spirit works on the whole person (volition, affections and intellect). Every aspect of the human person needs the transforming work of the Spirit, including our intellects as we read Scripture.  Sin affects our minds and our minds need the Spirit’s redemptive work not merely to read Scripture but to know God more deeply.

Insight is something the Lord gives. For example, after Paul encouraged Timothy to “be strong in the grace that is Christ Jesus” and used various analogies to press his point upon his son in the faith, he paused to ask Timothy to “reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this” (2 Timothy 2:6).

We read and then we reflect.  In this hermeneutical process, God will give the insight. It is a synergistic or cooperative act between God and his people.  God gives his witness through Scripture and we read the text. And then we reflect on the text relying on the wisdom God provides because we are assured that God continues to act through Scripture to give insight. God is active not only in the giving of Scripture but also in the interpreting of Scripture through the presence of his Spirit. God gives the fruit of wisdom to those who listen, to those who have ears to hear.

Many think this introduces too much subjectivity in the hermeneutical act.  But subjectivity is part of the process; it is unavoidable.   This is does not mean that there are no objective or empirical boundaries (see my “Created for Hermeneutics” series), but it does mean that discernment, internalization and application involve subjective dimensions of the mind and heart.  There is a danger in both rationality and subjectivity, but locating the hermeneutical work of the Spirit in sanctification and transformation reminds us that it is a process of growing into the image of God in Christ by the power of the Spirit. Both rationality (cognitive thought) and subjectivity (personal reflection) need the transformative presence of the Spirit to lead us to God.

One of the objections to this understanding is that if the Spirit helps us read the Bible, then why don’t we all read it alike? The Spirit is our sanctifier and is at work in believers to lead them to holiness.  But we don’t all have the same level of holiness.  We should not expect more in the hermeneutical arena than we also find in the moral arena. Seeing hermeneutics as part of the broader theological topic of sanctification reminds us that we are all in process, that no one has it completely right, and there is always room for more depth, discernment and insight. There is always room for more growth in understanding as well as holiness. At the same time, there is also room to see a broad consensus or agreement between believers who discern the same theodrama in Scripture and at work in the world today. We confess, for example, that the Father created the world, the Son became incarnate for the sake of our redemption, and the Spirit transforms us into the image of Christ. That is no minimal consensus but the structure of the metanarrative itself!

Simple or Complex?

At one level, I believe the hermeneutical process is quite simple. At another level, it is quite profound.  The Gospel of John, for example, has many simply stated truths but they are nevertheless deeply profound in meaning.  Just as the words and meanings of Scripture can be both simple and profound, so the process is as well.

But profund does not necessiarly mean complex or complicated.

I have argued in an earlier series that the “Command, Example, Inference” (CEI) method of Churches of Christ within the Stone-Campbell Movement is quite complex. It has all kinds of hidden rules about “binding examples,” implied commands, generic/specific categories, prohibitive vs. permissive silence, the law of exclusion, etc.

None of these “rules” are spelled out in Scripture. Rather, they are extraneous rules applied to the text of Scripture from a different hermeneutical paradigm than the literature of Scripture evidences. These rules do not emerge from the nature of Scripture itself, that is, they do not emerge from the genre of the literature. Rather, the rules emerge from the combination of (1) a Baconian framework, (2) a legal goal (what is “authorized”) that invokes a legal hermeneutic designed for legal texts, and (3) a constitutional literary model of Scripture.

I suggest that the understanding and application of those rules is a complicated process that is nowhere near “simple.”  It is only “simple” to those schooled in the rules as if they grew up speaking that language; for them it is “common sense.” For those who were raised with CEI as a hermeneutical method the application of the method is as “simple” as speaking English and they can’t understand why those who speak Spanish don’t understand its simplicity.

But the history of Churches of Christ reveals the illusion. It is not simple. Our history is strewn with divisions over the application of this method–one or multiple cups at communion, Bible classes or no Bible classes, may assemblies be divided, handclapping, instrumental music, Bible Colleges, use of church treasury, kitchens in the building, etc., etc., etc.  All involved the tweaking and use of CEI. The application was not so simple.

A More Simple Way?

My series has assumed that Churches of Christ are at a hermeneutical crossroads.  On the one hand, we may continue the task of “constructing a pattern” out of the details (data) of Scripture and then implementing (obeying) the pattern. The pattern is not there per se. We must discern it, isolate the data, rearrange the data, and put it into a system (pattern) which we can duplicate.  Thus, we have “five steps” of salvation, “five acts” of worship, and “three works of the church” (evangelism, benevolence, edification based on Ephesians 4:12).

We generate the true “marks of the church” such as membership rules, worship rules, polity rules, etc. None of these appear in the text as lists, systems, or rules. Rather, we construct them according to the hermeneutical process we know as CEI.  These are the rules that are regulated by “positive law” (though we may no longer use that term in the 21st century) and are thus necessary for a faithful church, authentic fellowship and “sound doctrine.”

On the other hand, I have been suggesting that we do something which I believe is much more simple but yet also profound.  I have suggested that we:

• Read Scripture to discern the theological substance (identify the metanarrative).
• Apply that theological substance to our context (recontextualize the metanarrative)
• Live that substance as participation in God’s story (participate in the metanarrative)

How does that work practically? Well, that is what I hope to illustrate in this series. 

Through prayer, the transforming work of the Spirit, and communal dialogue, perhaps we can read Scripture in a way that enables us to participate in the theodrama to which Scripture bears witness. This is my hermeneutical goal and I hope this series will draw us into the story so that we might embody the metanarrative in our own lives for the sake of the world in which we live.

More to come next week (I hope)…..after a brief trip to the Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio and the Hall of Fame game! 

Shalom

In the first half of 2004, the Woodmont Hills Church of Christ (Family of God) in Nashville, TN, pursued a congregational-wide study entitled “Women Serving God.”

There were some preliminaries in the Fall of 2003, but the main focus was the Spring of 2004. This involved many different venues–sermons, Bible classes (Sunday and Wednesday), small groups, focus groups, leadership meetings, etc. Some of the resources utilized are now available online.

The homilies by Rubel Shelly, John York and Wes Crawford are available. There were four in January 2004 entited (1) The Creation Story; (2) Women in Israel; (3) Jesus’ Life and Teaching; and (4) The Early Church.

The Sunday Morning Bible Class teaching material that paralleled the sermons is available on my Bible Class page. The series is entitled “Women Serving God: Four Lessons.”

I have just uploaded the Wednesday Evening Bible Class series in the Spring of 2004 to my Bible Class page as well. It is entitled “Women Serving God: Eight-Lesson Dialogue.” There were multiple participants, each given credit in the teaching outlines, but the class was conducted by Mark Manassee (at the time a chaplin at Vanderbilt Hospital and presently the preaching minister at the Culver Palms Church of Christ in Los Angeles) and myself. We are primarily responsible for the outlines which represent both the complementary and egalitarian positions. The outlines are suggestive and general; they are not detailed presentations of positions. We hope you can learn from them but remember they are trajectories rather than formal position statements. In addition, they were written four years ago and opinions may have developed or changed since then.

Mark and I worked well together as well as with guests (mostly women in the Woodmont Hills family) who shared the lectern with us in the classroom. We attempted to represent both sides of the question in fairness and love. Our dialogue was healthy, engaging and productive of good will. There was no hostility or animosity though we disagreed on certain points. I felt it was a model of Christian dialogue about some difficult questions. Mark and I are still friends! 🙂 Imagine that! Especially after discussing such a “hot” and often divisive topic. Love does cover a multitude of disagreements.

I will see you next week after a restful weekend with my wife.

Shalom

John Mark

One last post on spiritual or contemplative reading of Scripture….I think. Afterwards, I will take a weekend break from blogging to enjoy some time with my wife.

“Praying the Psalms” has been a intermittent habit of mine. Sometimes I have devoted myself to it and at other times I have laid it aside. As I look back on my patterns, I seem to renew this habit during times of hurt and pain. I have used it as a way of lamenting; to use the language of the Psalms to speak to God in my suffering or loss.

While it is certainly appropriate to pray the laments of the Psalms, I need to appropriate the whole Psalter in my prayer life. I have read through the Psalms on many occasions, but I have rarely taken the time to pray some of the thanksgiving Psalms or the praise Psalms. This has left a hole in my Psalm-praying where I have given more time to lament than I have to thanksgiving. This is a deficiency I intend to correct.

“Praying the Psalms,” nevertheless, has been an important spiritual discipline for me (and I have sometimes expanded it to other texts of Scripture as well; cf. “Praying Scripture” or “How to Pray the Scriptures“).

A Method

Here is a method that I apply to the Psalms–either to a whole Psalm or part of a Psalm (e.g., Psalm 119 is not something, perhaps, you want to do in one sitting):

Silence – As in other forms of spiritual reading, it is important to still our souls before God so that we are able to listen and respond out of our hearts.

Read the Psalm – I read it audibly, slowly and deliberately.  I will read it several times, perhaps with several different translations.

Observe the Psalm – I note the movement within the Psalm; is it a movement from complaint to praise, or from circumstance to thanksgiving, etc.  I note some of the key words or phrases in the Psalm that indicate the circumstance of the writer.  In other words, I seek to gain some kind of preliminary understanding of the Psalm.

Read the Psalm – I then read the Psalm as a whole once again–audibly, slowly and deliberately.

Meditate on the Psalm – Line by line I seek to internalize each sentence. How are these words my words? How do they connect with my inner being, my desires, my wants, my hurts, my joys?

Read the Psalm – I then read the Psalm as a whole once again–audibly, slowly and deliberately.

Pray through the Psalm – Line by line I reword the sentences or phrases as my own, or sometimes I approach this task by thinking about two or three stanzas together to reword them. These words become my prayer as I am led by the Psalm toward spiritual formation.

Conclude with Prayer – I tend to place an appendix on my psalm praying.  I add a thanksgiving, a complaint, a blessing, etc. that fits my particular situation or needs at the moment; or my need to bless God for his gracious presence…whatever my heart yields in the moment.

Example of Praying Through the Psalm Line by Line: Psalm 11

[I will not cite Psalm 11 itself, but offer my own prayer lines that are rooted in the Psalm.]

My Crisis (11:1-3)

Yahweh, I take refuge in you.

This is so difficult for me to do.  I would rather run; I want to escape my hurt and pain.  Everything within my sinful nature is telling me to flee, to hide. I’ve run before; forgive me.

My sinful nature tells me that my enemies have surrounded me and that their only interest is to bring me down. The chaos that envelopes me wants to destroy me. It is as if, Lord, the enemy is hiding in the shadows waiting to shoot me down; the enemy wants me to go down in flames.

What am I to do, Yahweh, when such power is gathered against me? When the world is falling apart–when war continues in Iraq, when political strife consumes my nation, when pornography is my nation’s most profitable business, when children kill children, when poverty abounds around the world and my nation lives in such luxury…., what am I to pray? What am I to do?  It is so much easier to run, to flee; but I know that is an illusion.

When my grief burdens me and my sin grieves me, what am I to do, O Yahweh?

My Trust (11:4-5)

I know, Yahweh, that you are enthroned in glory; I know that you are in your holy temple.  I will bow in silence before you.  I will listen to your voice.  I will trust in your sovereign work in the world.

I know that you know all the chaos in the world.  I know it does not escape your attention. I often wonder why you are so passive and do nothing–at least it seems rhat way to me.  But I know you see and examine every movement of your creatures; you know every intent of the heart; you know every burden of the soul.

I know that you are not indifferent to the chaos.  I confess that your attention is trained on your creation, and your intent is both gracious and just.

You know the difference between the righteous and the wicked, between those who love you and those who love violence.  You see the world as it really is; you see the heart of every human being.  You hate the wicked and test the righteous. Your ways are just and holy.  I trust your faithfulness; I trust what you are doing in the world.

Though the foundations of the world crumble around me, though I have sorrow in my heart every day, though violence reigns, yet will I trust you.

My Commitment (11:6-7)

Yahweh, I confess that one day you will set the world right.  One day you will rain your righteous judgment on the wicked.  One day the righteous will see your face. Oh, my God, I yearn to see your face rather than the chaos that surrounds me. I groan for the new world to come.

Yahweh, I confess that though your soul hates the wicked, your heart loves the righteous. Oh, my God, I know you yearn to love me and I know your love. Create in me, O God, a clean heart and a righteous spirit that I might enjoy your love as you delight in me.

I commit myself, Yahweh, to your ways, to your righteousness, to your love.  I will take refuge in you for I have no one else.  I will take refuge in you because you are the sovereign Lord of the universe.  I will take refuge in you for you love those who love justice and hate those who love violence.  I will neither run nor hide. I will trust you.  

Thank you, O God, that I have the hope of living in your presence forever. I want to see your face. May your face shine up me this day. Give me a living hope that heals my hurts and gives me eyes to see where you are at work in the world.  Give me eyes to see your hope aflame in the midst of the darkness.

Maranatha.  Come, Lord Jesus.

I admit it.  I lied.  I said this would be a three post series, but I wanted to add a another form of communal spiritual reading that I have enjoyed on many occasions in the past five years. It is called–at least as I know it–“Dwelling in the Word.”  There are several good resources available on the net for this practice of spiritual reading (e.g., here).

The roots of this practice are probably Lectio Divina but it has a little different twist to it that I find helpful and encouraging. What follows is my own suggestions for this method but they are not original with me. I have learned them through participation with others in various contexts. When I was on staff at the Woodmont Hills Church of Christ we regularly practiced this method in the last couple of years of my time there. I have practiced it with others as well.  Sometimes it is as extensive as offered below, and sometimes it is a shortened version of this.  It all depends on the setting, time constraints and the desire of the group itself.  Below is an adaptable model.

Silence – It is important to settle our hearts so that we are open to listening to God.  We must clear our minds of all our past regrets and future plans. We seek to “be” in the present with God through the text. I use the “Jesus prayer” to focus my mind and heart; to settle my emotions and feelings in the present. The silence is a prayer that I am willing to listen and hear what God has to say to me through the text.

Reading the Text – The text is audibly read; it is read slowly and deliberately.  There is no hurry or rush. Our silence has prepared us to hear and we want to hear every word.

Silent Meditation – The group reflects on the text. What significant ideas, words, phrases or sentence gained your attention. Repeat the words over and over again with the heart and mind.  What is it about those words that resonates?

Reading the Text  – The text is audibly read; it is read slowly and deliberately. This time listen to the text through the lens of the words that gained our attention in the previous reading.  Where do those words come in the reading?

Silent Meditation – The group reflects on the text.  How did hearing the text again through the lens of those words illuminate the words further? Why does this text meaning something to me? What is happening in my life that connects with this reading? What does this text call me to do?

Reading the Text – The text is read aubily; it is read slowly and deliberately.  Listen for the big picture in the text through the lens of the words that have occupied our focus.

Sharing With Another – In smaller groups of two or three (breaking larger groups into such sizes), people share their insight with other members of the group.  They share the words that caught their attention, why it was significant to them, and what they feel called to do in light of the text.  Each member of the smaller group shares.  However, we listen; we do not comment on what others have shared.  We only speak for ourselves and about ourselves.  This is not a time to judge another’s intake but to assimilate the word into our own hearts.  Perhaps what others share will be meaningful to us, give us a new perspective on the text or even the words upon which we focused, and we may feel called in the direction others share as well.  But we do not comment, correct or elaborate on the comment of others.   We simply listen.  In this moment we learn to share and we learn to listen–and we do both without judgment, correction or condemnation of the other. Each shares and no one adds anything else. Silence as we listen to others is a discipline we all need to learn.

Reading the Text – The text is read aubily; it is read slowly and deliberately.  Now we hear the text in through the spectrum of what the group has shared. Perhaps now we see something we did not see before; perhaps we are further enlightened about our own focus against the backdrop of what others have shared. We listen again to the word of God.

Silent Meditation — We meditate on what each member of the group has shared in the light of our own focus on the text. How does this help us understand our own focus? How does this encourage me to do what I have heard God call me to do in the text?

Sharing with the Group — If the total group involves more than two or three people, then in larger groups or with the whole we share what we have heard others say.  This is not an interpretation of what others have said with our comment, approval, or judgment.  Rather, it is reporting what others have said. This serves the function of sharing with the whole group so that the rest might benefit from the insight, but it is also serves the function of yielding to the other in our own thinking.  By simply reporting what they have said, we demonstrate to ourselves that we have listened.  When we listen, we hear something from others about what God is saying to them.  We listen to the word of God through the lenses of others who are also seeking God.  We learn to listen and we learn to share what others have shared without the egocentricity of making sure we get our opinion into the mix.

Reading the Text — The text is read audbily; it is read slowly and deliberately. We hear in light of what others have shared about the text.

Group Discussion — This is optional.  Sometimes is good to simply listen to each other without comment.  Groups sometimes have the tendency of “correcting” each other’s meditations or applications.  So, sometimes I prefer to simply listen, but there are occasions for interactive discussion of the text that deepens our understanding.  Even in this moment, however, I don’t think this is a time for “critique” or judgment about another’s points.  Rather, it is a time to probe more deeply into each other’s meditation–seek clarification, explanation and application. If the group has some kind of built-in accountability commitment, it is a time to ask how and when participants will act on what they have learned from this text.

Silent Meditation – Think about what your have heard from others in the light of the text and what you have heard from the text for yourself.  This is adjust in any way the way you have heard the text and what you hear God calling for you to do? What has God taught you through listening to others?

Reading the Text – The text is read audibly; it is read slowly and deliberately. We hear the text again but this time in the context of the total communal insight; we hear it in conjunction with a communal hearing.  Indeed, we hear it communally with shared insight, discipleship and commitment to do what God has called us to do.

Group Prayer – We pray that God will give us the strength and power to obey what he has called us to do through the hearing of this text.

Many missional churches and groups have used this method to read, meditate on and discuss Luke 10:1-12. I have done that often, but I also find it a wonderful method to meditate on a Psalm in a group. In the conclusion of such a meditation, parying through the Psalm as a group is a enlightening and transformative experience.
There are many things I like about this method even though there are some dangers inherent in it as with all methods of reading.

1. It is communal.
2. It is focused on reading the text over and over.
3. It involves personal meditation.
4. It involves sharing with another person my meditation.
5. It involves sharing with the group (with the option of discussion as well).
6. It ends in group prayer.

I commend to you the practice of “Dwelling in the Word.”  On more occasions than not I have found it a rewarding experience with God in community.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was enriched by attending a session on contemplative spirituality at Lipscomb’s Summer Celebration led by Randy Harris, Rhonda Lowry and Gary Holloway.  In this post I will describe how Gary Holloway reminded me of the ancient practice of Lectio Divina which has been part of my spiritual meditations off and on over the past ten (?) years.

I summarized Lectio Divina (divine reading) in fairly traditional fashion in this series’ first post as (1) reading [or listening to the text]; (2) meditation; (3) prayer; (4) contemplation. You can find a description of that process in that post or in other resources available on the net (e.g., here or here among many, many others).

Gary chose Isaiah 30:15-22 as the text for reading. He designed the experience as a group exercise. [Below, of course, is my rendition of the experience and not necessarily how Gary would outline it as a procedure.]

• Silence — we began with a few minutes of silence.  The purpose was to center ourselves, rid ourselves of all the “mental stuff” in our busy lives, and focus on divine presence. 

I used my usual technique, described in my previous post, of breathing in and out the “Jesus Prayer.” [I often find silence so difficult, but this technique helps me; it has the added benefit of a prayer itself!]

• Reading — Gary read Isaiah 30:15-22 slowly as we listened. Gary asked us to listen to the word and open ourselves to the possibility that a word, phrase, or sentence would strike our heart in a unique or significant way.  Centered on God’s presence and listening to his word creates the opportunity for God to say something specifically to us through a text of Scripture.

What I heard at that moment in the reading was quite striking. The text Gary chose had a direct and uncanny relationship to my journey over the past five months.  I heard “In rest and repentance is your salvation.”  I heard “The Lord longs to be gracious to you.”  I heard “the Lord gives you the bread of adversity.”  I heard “your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it’.”

• Meditation — Gary then asked us to meditate for a few minutes on that word, phrase or sentence that struck us. 

I thought about how my workaholism was my “flight into Egypt” to escape dealing with the “bread of adversity” (my grief trauma) that God had given me (God was certainly responsible for not adverting my the circumstances that caused me grief).  I thought about how I was looking in all the wrong places to hear the voice of the Lord; I sought many teachers (books, academic articles, etc.) rather than listening to his voice which was ringing in my ears and gnawing at my heart by his Spirit. I thought about how I had not rested and now have been brought to repentance and my soul has been forced to rest.  I meditated specifically on the call to “repentance and rest” and the promise of salvation attached to command.

• Sharing — Gary asked us to share the word or phrase that struck us with the group.

I shared “repentance and rest” with my two group members. This seemed to epitomize the last five months of my life.

• Reading and Silence– Gary then slowly read the text again.

This time, while still hearing “repentance and rest,” I heard even more clearly how the Lord had given me “the bread of adversity and the water of affliction.” Hearing this in relation to “repentance and rest is your salvation” was a moment of hope, comfort and peace for me. God is at work to heal and renew life. His purpose is gracious.

• Contemplation — Gary asked us to reflect on how this word/phrase/sentence touched our lives in the present.  What do we hear or see in the text?  What is God saying to us?

I heard the promise of salvation and redemption through repentance and rest as I seek God’s voice in my life rather than fleeing into Egypt (e.g., workaholism) to escape my adversity and affliction. That was powerful for me. I am convinced that Gary did not chose that text isolation from God’s purpose for me that day.  How can that be?  I don’t know; it just seems so clear to me, however.

• Sharing a Life Response — Gary asked us to share with the group how we will respond to this text in our lives today.

I shared that the group experience, led by Gary’s reading of this text, has confirmed the direction of my life in the last five months. It has confirmed my need for rest and that it is a path of redemption and renewal.  It reminded me, however, that this process must be one of listening to the divine voice rather than the voices of my heroism and desire for approval.

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I hope this illustrates how “theological hermeneutics” is a dead end unless Scripture also comes alive through contemplative (spiritual) reading that encounters God and transforms the soul.  It is in this kind of reading of Scripture that we face God’s demands on our own lives and receive the power to obey. When the Word meets us through the word, we will face the choice to obey or disobey. This is the sometimes painful but often transformative process of being conformed to the image of Christ.

Last Friday, July 4, I attended a session on contemplative spirituality led by Randy Harris, Rhonda Lowry and Gary Holloway at Lipscomb’s Summer Celebration.

These three along with Jackie Halstead lead a seminar on deepening spiritualitysponsored by New Wineskins.  I have not yet participated in the program but I know some who have. I have heard nothing but glowing reports.

After an introduction by Randy, Rhonda and Gary led the group in two different contemplative exercises in reading the Bible. I have practiced both of these at different times (though they each had their own unique stamp on the exercise), but it was a wonderful reminder to me of how I need to give more attention to this kind of reading of Scripture than I actually do. In other words, I confess that I am often much too academic in my approach to Scripture.

In this post I will summarize the method through which Rhonda led us and how it applied to me…and moved me to obey God  (do we hear the word “transformation” as a process?). In my next post I will summarize the method through which Gary led us and how I encountered God in that moment.

Rhonda reminded us of a very simple inductive way to read Scripture for personal transformation. I first (at least so my memory serves me) encountered this method–or something very similar to it–in Roberta Hestenes’ Using the Bible in Groups (1985). However, Rhonda’s version emphasized the goal of personal transformation by private encounter with God through Scripture.

Below I summarize her method, what I did with the text in the setting of the workshop, and how it applied to me. The language in the headings and the directions given below belong to Rhonda Lowry to whom I am indebted.

Hook

Before we can read Scripture transformatively, we must settle ourselves. We must rid ourselves of the busy-ness of life, focus on task at hand, and seek God.

I seek this with some meditative breathing exercises and prayer. To encounter God in the present, we need to be “in” the present (rather than letting our mind wander back to the past or planning the future). I find the easiest way to do this for me is to pray the “Jesus prayer” with rhythmic breathing. As I inhale I address Jesus with these words “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,” and as I exhale I pray “have mercy on me, a sinner.”  I do this repeatedly until calm enters my soul, everything else is excluded from my consciousness, and I sense some focus on God’s comforting presence. It is an experience of calm. This prepares me to hear the text.

Book

Rhonda gave us Mark 5:21-43 to read. Our task was to simply observe the text through inductive reading. She recommended that we make at least five observations about the text. Each of these should be written in complete sentences and they must be factual observations rather than any sort of interpretation. The point is simply to observe.

I observed, for example, that:

1. Both healings involved “daughters”–one had suffered for twelve years and another had lived for twelve years.
2. Both Jarius and the afflicted woman met Jesus on their knees as they fell to the ground.
3. The afflicted woman trembled in fear before Jesus and Jarius was tempted to fear when he heard his daughter was dead.
4. The text moves from public (Jarius’ request) to private (the woman touches Jesus’ clothing) back to public (the woman confesses her touch) and then to private again (the healing of Jarius’ daughter).
5. The healings involve both a chronic illness and a death.

Of course, many more observations could be made of the text.  And the more we observe, the more deeply the text sinks into us as a datum of our mind and ultimately heart. The more time we spend with the text, the more we see in text.  In this method I have yet to find a text where I did not notice something new even when I tended to think I already knew the text well.

Look

Rhonda then suggested that we take one of our observations and brainstorm about it. This is an act of interpretation.  Our task is to think of all the possible ways in which that observation could be understood, what it might mean, and what it might teach. The task is to interpret, but limit ourselves to one specific observation so we can focus our contemplation.  If we attempt to do too much, we will end up superficial rather than contemplative.

I chose to focus on the observation that both Jarius and the healed woman fell at the feet of Jesus–they either knelt or fell prostrate before him. What is the significance of this?  What might it mean? Rhonda suggested that we list at least ten possible meanings or nuances.  This can be difficult at times but it forces reflection, concentration and probing. Here are mine though there could perhaps be many more:

1. They humbled themselves.
2. They expressed grief.
3. They expressed fear.
4. They plead or begged Jesus for his mercy.
5. They were awed by Jesus’ presence.
6. They were seeking and searching for healing.
7. They were embarrassed.
8. They told the truth.
9. They expressed gratitude.
10. They confessed.

Took

Rhonda then suggested we meditate on that meaning of that observation for our own lives through the lens of how we brainstomed it. She encouraged application.  But this is a highly personal and direct application.  The application, according to Rhonda, must be both concrete (something specific) and time-dependent (to be done within a specific time period).

For whatever reason (should we say the movement of God?–ok, I think so; after all, I prayed for such movement; my, it does surprise us when God shows up, right?), I chose to focus on the observation that both actors in the drama fell at the feet of Jesus.  I saw in that humility, awe, seeking, confession, etc.  Why did I choose that?  Why was this observation important to me?  What was God telling me through this observation and meditation.

What I “took” from my meditation was a renewal to practice kneeling in my prayer life during my morning and evening meditations.  I spend much of my time sitting in prayer rather than kneeling or prostrate.  From this contemplative exercise, I sensed a need and a call to kneel in prayer more often.  Consequently, I committed in my own heart to pray on my knees or face during the rest of July.

The return to the posture of kneeling or prostration has been transformative for me. It reminds me that I am not talking to air. It accentuates for me that I am in God’s presence when I pray. It demands that I tell the truth when I pray. It humbles me.

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The “story” and “study” functions of Bible reading would certainly reveal to me how the people of God have often knelt and prostrated themselves before God in prayer and worship.  But the “silence” of contemplative reading moved me to kneel before God in my own prayer and worship.  In this way, I rediscovered something that I had lost in the last few years of my life.  And with that rediscovery comes the experience of humility, confession and awe that I needed to re-experience.  I learned again to participate in the drama (story) of God through kneeling before him as I seek the face of God. It has truly been transformative.

Before I pursue the application of my “three step hermeneutical method” to some common ecclesiological issues among Churches of Christ, I wanted to take a “time out” and stress the transformative and fuller meaning of “Bible reading.” This post begins a three post series to that end. In my next two posts I will offer examples of “transformative” Bible study through the contemplative reading of Scripture. My attention has been too much on “story” and “study” in my previous posts on “theological hermeneutics,” and so I wanted to make sure that we recognize “silence” as an essential element of living before God with Scripture in hand and heart.

The following selection is a slightly edited version of a section from Bobby Valentine and John Mark Hicks, Kingdom Come: Embracing the Spiritual Legacy of David Lipscomb and James Harding (Leafwood, 2006), pp. 85-90.

Or is it? The public reading of Scripture is relatively rare except as part of a sermon. Some question whether our Bible classes function more as supportive self-help groups rather than places of serious Bible study. Biblical illiteracy is on the rise and has reached alarming proportions. There is a tremendous need for a renewal of Bible reading, study and meditation among our people—both as individuals and as communities.

We suggest three approaches to the practice of Bible reading. Not all reading is the same. We do not read a newspaper the way we read a poem, nor do we read a novel the way we read a billboard. Below we suggest that every believer and the believing community as a whole read the Bible in three ways: as a story, as a rich source of meaning, and as a text for silent meditation. These are three ways to “listen to God” both individually and communally.

Story

James A. Harding emphasized reading the Bible “consecutively” or, to put it in more contemporary terms, as a narrative or story (“Does God Work Miracles Now?” Gospel Advocate 26 [5 March 1884], 154). The Bible has a plot—it is the unfolding drama of God’s creative and redemptive work. It is the story of his restoration project—to restore the shalom of his original creation through redeeming the fallen world.

To read Scripture as narrative is to read it in the framework of its overarching plot. It is to expose ourselves to its language and values, to discern the world it communicates, and to embrace the story as our own. Through narrative reading we enter into the world of Scripture in such a way that it absorbs our own world. We begin to see our world in the light of God’s creation, redemptive intent, and ultimate restoration. We see what the world should be. Harding read the whole Bible [by 1914, the OT 60x and the NT 130x) so often because he wanted to live in that story—to participate in the drama of redemption. Constant, daily reading shapes the heart and mind with the language and values of the biblical story.

In our multi-media age, we are subtly shaped and formed by the images we see and read. Teens that grew up watching “Friends” on television were subtly shaped by the values of that sitcom. Such “stories” sink into our hearts in unconscious ways and before we realize it we are living out those stories. Our exposure to the varied stories of culture shape us.

Reading the Bible as a story, and reading it daily in large chunks (much like we read a novel) counteracts the narrative of fallen culture. Daily Bible reading is a counter-cultural act—it situates us over against fallen culture. Through it we imbibe a different story that has radically different values than the one in which we live as fallen human beings. The different texts of Scripture blend to form a symphony which finds its crescendo in the incarnation, ministry, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus—events which prefigure the fullness of the kingdom of God in the new heaven and new earth.

There is a great need to renew the reading of Scripture in our assemblies. We can only embrace the story as a community when we hear it read in large chunks as a community. Certainly, the Lord’s Supper, our praises and our prayers do this as well, but we need also to hear the word as a community.

Believers who do not know what the word “exegesis” means are discipled by their constant reading of the word as narrative. Such reading does not produce scholars in the academic sense, but it does produce disciples.

Study

The church needs readers first, but it also needs serious students and scholars. Reading Scripture as a student focuses on the meaning of specific texts. It pursues what is known as the “historical-grammatical” method. This approach reads Scripture in the context of its own historical situation and pays close attention to the language of the text. It is the stuff of which academic commentaries are made, that is, exegesis—the discipline that draws out the meaning of a text.

This historical or critical reading of Scripture seeks to understand what the original author meant when he wrote the text. This involves an appreciation of the historical context of the document, the culture in which it was written, the meaning of the language in that context, and what problem/situation it was addressing. Such understanding guides us in applying biblical theology in the present. What the text meant to its original readers guides our understanding of what it means for us today.

Exegesis asks the questions who, what, where, when and why. The student analyzes, parses and dissects the text. What did Paul mean when he said that Christ “emptied himself” (Phil 2:7)? What does the word “empty” mean? Why was it important for him to use that language and how did he apply that point to the Philippians? What was happening in the church at Philippi? Such is the task of exegesis.

In the last two hundred years, and particularly in the last century, this kind of Bible reading has dominated the Christian world. It is, in part, the product of the Enlightenment. It has its value—it helps us understand the historical meaning of the text. But it also has its demerits—it often fails to recontextualize the text’s meaning for the contemporary church and restricts the meaning of the text to what is discernible by historical-critical methods. The scholar has her role within the church as one who exegetes the text in ways that are beyond the knowledge and expertise of most, but the scholar does not exhaust the meaning of Scripture for the church. Every believer reads Scripture and the church as a community reads Scripture in such a way that God illuminates the church’s way into the future. The church values her scholars, but she does not limit God’s illuminating work to them alone.

The danger of exegetical study is the tendency to reduce Bible reading to historical pieces of data. It produces information. This is necessary, but insufficient. It is not enough to know facts or process information. Rather, Bible reading must seek God and commune with his presence. Consequently, a third way of reading is as important as the first two.

Silence

In addition to a “critical” reading of the Bible, Campbell encouraged a “devotional or sanctifying reading.” Through this “means” disciples experience “communion with the Father, and with his Son,” in a way that “is not vouchsafed to mortals in any other way” (“Bible Reading,” Millennial Harbinger [1839], 37). This kind of reading is reflective or contemplative as individuals or communities sit in the presence of God.

There are many methods and resources for contemplative Bible reading. One of the most classic and ancient is the Benedictine method of lectio divina (divine reading). It is a simple but profound approach to meditating on the word of God. It can be practiced individually or communally (in small groups, Bible classes or even in the assembly). It has four steps.

The first step is lectio (reading). Select a verse or small paragraph of Scripture. Read the text over and over; not just twice or three times, but ten times or more. Read it silently and aloud—read it with your inner voice, but also vocalize it. Read it with different intonations and experiment with different emphases and inflections. Repetition is critically important. Do not rush over the text. Savor it. But in a spirit of silence, read with a listening ear and heart. Listen to the text.

The second step is meditatio (meditation). What is God saying to you? What is the connection to your daily life? Is God calling for a response? Mull over the text, and internalize the words. What phrases stand out from the constant repetition? Do any take hold of your heart? Do any impress you with the confluence of your life and the text? This is where we ponder the text. We engage the text with our feelings, reactions, associations, and challenges. Meditation is not about what the text meant, but how God is encountering us in the present.

The third step is oratio (prayer). Whatever thoughts came to you in reading the text, offer these to God. This is not a time of petition but another way of listening in dialogue with God. Turn your meditation from dialogue with yourself to dialogue with God. Share with God your reflections—how you are thinking and what you are feeling. Listen for God’s response to your prayer. Embrace his promises in the word, and commit yourself to living out that word in your life. Invoke God to make it so in your life. Express your doubts, but take God at his word. Seek to trust him and pursue that trust in prayerful words.

The fourth step is contemplatio (contemplation). Be silent before God and quiet your soul. Rest in his presence. Let go of your mental activity. Practice the presence of God through silence, clearing your mind and trusting in the divine love. Allow a word or phrase from the text to fill your mind—one that has surfaced in the previous three steps. Repeat this word or phrase over and over; let it fill your mind. Let this be the word that guides you for the day and sustains God’s presence in your life.

St. John of the Cross summarized the lectio divina in a paraphrase of Luke 11:9: “Seek in reading and you will find in meditation; knock in prayer and it will be opened for you in contemplation.” Or, as Harding put it, “Read it; delight in it; meditate on it, memorizing striking passages, read them over and over and over again” (“How To Fall in Love with the Bible,” Gospel Herald 3 [20 May 1915], 1). Learning to experience God through Scripture by reading it, meditating on it, praying it and contemplating God in its light will open the doors of our hearts. It is where we may seek God and find him. Finding him, we experience the transforming power of his presence as we obey what what we hear.

Is the hermeneutical move from Scripture to application a “Texas Two-Step” or something else?

Two or Three?

By “Texas Two-Step” I do not mean the country/western dance that moves in sync with 4/4 time.  🙂  I am referring to the basic hermeneutical practice of moving from Scripture to application in “two steps.”

1. Step One:  The text says “X”
2. Step Two:  Therefore, we do “X”

This hermeneutic serves a form of restorationism that seeks to reduplicate the New Testament church just as it appears in the New Testament. Do what they did; it is the “safe” way to restore the church. They did “X” (the text says), and therefore we must do “X” (according to hermeneutical and patternistic assumptions). I regard this as a kind of naive primitivism which no one really practices but is nevertheless the rhetoric of Churches of Christ in the 20th century.

But it was never that simple. As we saw with Baconian induction/deduction, it has been far more complicated than that within the heritage of the Stone-Campbell Movement. Indeed, J. D. Thomas’ We Be Brethren laid out the principles for generic/specific, inclusion/exclusion, etc. The rules for understanding the nature of prohibitive silence, laws of exclusion, binding examples, implied commands, etc. are not explicit in the text itself but involve a process of discernment by which we decide in which cases we will do “X” just like Corinth (or Rome or Jerusalem, etc.) did “X” and where we will not do “X” just as they did (e.g., covered heads). In other words, there was always an intermediate third step.

1. Step One:  The text says “X1” and “X2”
2. Step Two:  “X1” is something intended for the church universal but “X2” is not.
3. Step Three: Therefore, we must do “X1” but “X2” is optional.

Step two is the essence of “theological hermeneutics.”  It is a theological step. It is a process by which contemporary readers of Scripture discern the normativity of ethics and ecclesial practices in order to become the community God intended in creation and will bring to fullness in the Eschaton. Step two is about theology, that is, the substance that arises out of the metanarrative that forms us into the image of Christ.

Within Stone-Campbell hermeneutics this middle step is often hidden and sometimes even denied. Nevertheless, it is present in every hermeneutical conclusion.  For example, Churches of Christ have concluded that Scripture mandates that the Lord’s Supper be eaten every first day of the week and only on the first day of the week.  But Scripture never explicitly says this. Rather, we proceed with a multi-step method to get there.

1. Step One:  The church in Troas ate the Supper on the first day of the week (Acts 20:7).
2. Step Two:  Assumptions–(a) Troas did this every first day of the week [Paul waited seven days, right?–and certainly not because that is when the ship left. right?]; (b) the text functions to exclude other times because it records this occasion [what it does not include it excludes]; (c) there are no other texts which indicate a specific time for eating the Supper [denying Acts 2:46 or the Lord’s on institution of the Supper on Thursday evening apply to the question]; (d) Troas’ eating assumes an implied command to eat on the first day of the week [though no such command appears anywhere in the New Testament]; (e) since the Supper is commanded, there must be somewhere in Scripture where we are told when to eat [thus dictating what Scripture must tell us, and if it must tell us, then we will find it!], etc.
3. Step Three: Therefore, faithful churches eat the Supper only on the first day of the week and every first day of the week.

It is important to note the nature of Step Two in this example.  Here Step Two applies legal reasoning as if the text is a legal genre. It does not involve a theological reflection on the fact that Troas ate the Supper on the first day of the week and neither does it read Acts 20:7 within the Luke-Acts narrative. Rather, it treats the event as a legal precedent and thus Step Two functions as a legal rationale with a legal hermeneutic.  But Acts is not a legal document; it is a narrative. Step Two, in this case, violates the simple reading of the text in straight-forward grammatical-historical fashion as a narrative. The traditional hermeneutic actually complicates the text rather than simplifying it. The complexity of the traditional hermeneutic is actually quite astonding once one engages the discussions that have surrounded CEI and its applications (how many cups at the table? are Bible classes authorized? the complexities of the instrumental music discussion in terms of generic/specific and expedience/element distinctions, etc.).

This does not mean that all intermediate steps within Churches of Christ were purely legal. Sometimes there is theological reflection and sometimes there is cultural discernment (e.g., most Churches of Christ don’t require covered heads when women [silently] pray in the assembly). But when it comes to ecclesial practices, it usually is a matter of legal reasoning based on hidden hermeneutical and theological assumptions about the role of positive law in the Christian faith, the nature of Scripture as a legal (constitutional) document, and the function of Scripture to provide “legal authority.”

An Alternative Second Step

When approaching a particular text in Scripture, I suggest an explicit and self-aware “three-step” hermeneutical method.  Again, “steps” are pedagogical devices and not timeless rules. And the number “three” is not sacred either (except in terms of Trinity!). In fact, we can make the three steps into fifty, I suppose.  Yet, I think there are two basic moves:  from (1) text to (2) theology, and then (2) theology to (3)application.  Below I proffer a possible way of thinking through a text theologically along with a simple example (which could be pursued in much greater depth than I do here) that dovetails with my previous post on methodology.

Example Text:  1 Timothy 2:9-10.

Step 1:  The Affirmations of the Text:  Exegesis.

Contextualized Significance:  What did the text call them to do?  Women should dress with “decency and propriety” which means they should not wear clothing that is ostentatious or reflects their noble status.  The context is probably a worship assembly, or at least, the lifestyle of the Christian community.

Contextualized Meaning:  Why did the text call for this behavior?  Women ought to give evidence of their piety (theosebeian) through good works rather than through their social standing.

Step 2:  Normative Substance of the Text:  Theology.

Theological Substance:  What theological substance inheres within the text’s meaning? The substance is humility/service as the proper evidence of one’s piety.

Redemptive-History:  How is this substance reflected within the theodrama?  The problem is not expensive clothing per se, or attention to beauty,  but the attitude which divides people according to class and social status.  The principles of redemptive-history reflect the union of God’s people in humility rather than along the lines of social standing  (cf. Amos 4:1-3; 6:1-7).  Arrogance translates into social injustice and luxurious lifestyles (Ezek. 16:49-50; James 5:5).

Theological Center:  How does it cohere with the theological centers of the theodrama? Fear of God and humility are paired in Scripture (cf. Prov. 15:33; 22:4).  Humility versus pride is a dominant theme in Scripture (Prov. 3:34; 11:1; James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5).  The basic attitude of worship is humility (Is. 66:2; James 4:10; 1 Peter 5:6). It is the recognition that we creatures rather than the Creator, and as creatures we share the task of imaging God in the world. We see in Jesus himself the display of humility and service rather than pride and luxury.

Step 3:  Application of Meaning to Modern Audience:  Homiletics.

Meaning Recontextualized:  How does this substance translate into contemporary culture?  The Christian lifestyle must be a humble one (shall we say “simple” one?), and in the context of the worship assembly humble dress is demanded.  Issues of economic lifestyle and modest dress are culturally relative.  The theological substance, however, rejects pride and extravagance among God’s people.   

Significance Recontextualized:  What does the theology of the text call us to do?  It calls us to dress and live humbly in whatever cultural setting in which we find ourselves.  What does this mean for American churches and Christians? Anyone dare go there in their leadership within a church? Can we really hear the call of this text in our own setting? Dare we obey it?

This is a fairly simple illlustration though it is not without questions itself.  For example, is the theological principle really about humility/service where the problem was the ostentatious dress of women in Ephesus or is the problem more about seductive dress (the accessories of prostitutes)? Perhaps we don’t have to choose since either flows from the fundamental notion of “modesty.”

More importantly, this text illustrates that our modern applications do not always reproduce the Pauline application. Paul’s application excluded gold and braided hair from godly female dress, but we certainly don’t exclude such today (e.g., wedding rings).  I don’t think this is a problem.  Rather, it reflects the point that what we apply to the modern believer is not the text itself (“don’t wear gold”) but what we apply is the theological substance of the text (e.g., modesty, humility, service). The applications may vary according to circumstances, cultures and time, but the substance remains the same. And the substance remains the same because it is rooted in the theological reality of God himself revealed within in the theodrama.

What’s the Point?

If, in practice, everyone does at least a three-step, is not everyone following the same hermeneutical method?

Actually, no.  For my purpose, the significant difference between the traditional Stone-Campbell hermeneutic (the “hidden” three-step) and what I have proposed above is the substance of the second step.  While the traditional hermeneutic basically construes the second step as a legal maneuver in order to discern legal authority through a legal hermeneutical lens, I suggest we see the second step with a theodramatic lens.  In other words, instead of seeking “legal authority,” we are seeking how to participate in the theodrama in ways that embody the divine intent and goal.

In essence, I am suggesting metanarrative theology is the substance of the second step rather than constitutional law. The theological hermeneutic is to discern the character and mission of God through the theodrama as it culminates in the Christ Event. This discernment, then, enables us to recontextualize that theological substance for our contemporary world.

Why Such a Long Series?

My intent is not to be original. Indeed, I have learned much from others, and I believe that in many ways this is how Paul himself, for example, read Scripture. He read it with the lens of theological substance through the prism of Christ. [Perhaps I need a series on that to illustrate my point?]

I have often heard the critical barb that while many spend their time in deconstructing the traditional hermeneutic (CEI), nothing is ever offered in its place.  I don’t think this is accurate.  What it reflects is that the only hermeneutic that is deemed legitimate is the one the critics already practice or will reach the same conclusions that they cherish (e.g., any hermeneutic which does not conclude that instrumental music is sinful can’t be right).  Anything else, of course, is not as simple, not as coherent, not as practical, etc.  Anything else is not a hermeneutic at all.

This is unfortunate. I believe many writers such as Tom Olbricht (cf. Hearing God’s Voice) or C. Leonard Allen (Cruciform Church, especially the new edition) have offered hermeneutical alternatives.  They are not CEI–and that is the problem in the eyes of critics–but they do offer a way of reading Scripture that moves away from the Baconian assumptions of CEI as taught and practiced by traditional Churches of Christ.

So, my point in this series as been to offer an alternative–a way to read Scripture theologically.  My formulation is not set in stone; I’m still thinking about parts of it.  I have written this rather hurriedly as a daily discipline.  It is not perfect.  But it is, I think, suggestive of a better alternative.

Shall we read Scripture as constitutional law through legal hermeneutical criteria for Step Two?  Or, shall we read Scripture as a theodrama which calls us to participate in the story in ways that image God? Which, in fact, is more coherent with the nature of Scripture itself, Scripture’s own self-description, and its own language? Which one is more biblical?  Which one is more faithful to the nature of Scripture itself?

I’ve given you my answer.  You will have to answer for yourself.

In my concluding hermeneutical series–to come shortly after I take a break from this topic–I will attempt to illustrate the method that I have advocated in this series.  In other words, finally, I will get practical.  🙂

Shalom

John Mark

Okay, maybe I’m not ready to go with the intensely practical as yet….my bad!  But I think the following methodological outline of a theological hermeneutic is a fairly simple one.   I will wait for the “rubber-meets-the-road” kind of ecclesiological discussions of the theological hermeneutic (which is, historically, what really interests the heirs of the Stone-Campbell Movement) for my next series.  But we are drawing closer to a fuller explanation of the kind of theological hermeneutic I have in mind.

In one sense I don’t like “steps” (except when climbing a steep slope) because they tend to oversimplify an integrated process or they mechanize a dynamic process. Nevertheless, they are useful as a pedagogical device (which is the origin of Walter Scott’s five-finger exercise: Believe, Repent, Be Baptized, Remission of Sins, Gift of the Holy Spirit). But, we must remember, the steps should not be disconnected but rather seen as an organic process; steps that reciprocally shape each other–more like a spiral than a staircase.

Step One: The Theological Drama Within Scripture

We read Scripture through the lens of its fundamental theological drama which, of course, we only know through reading Scripture, living within the community of faith, and listening to the story of the church’s faith (e.g., The Rule of Faith).

Thus, we begin with the basic metanarrative of Scripture–the drama of God creating his good cosmos, pursuing his rebellious people, redeeming his broken cosmos, and consummating his redemptive purpose in the Escahton through Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. This is our theological frame for reading Scripture and it is the frame that has shaped our reading of Scripture through the consensus theology of the church summarized in the “Rule of Faith” (Irenaeus’ version is available in his Against Heresies 1.10.1) or “Apostle’s Creed.”

It is important to note that the Apostle’s Creed is little more than a summary of the baptismal confessions of early Christians in the second and third centuries. It is a credo(“I believe”) that acknowledges the Creator God, the divine presence in Israel through the prophets, the Christ Event (birth, life, death, resurrection and ascension), and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit to form a community of redeemed people awaiting the resurrection and eternal life. It is a summary of the biblical theodrama.

This metanarrative reveals the theocentric nature of the drama, the Christocentric means of its accomplishment, and the pneumatological mode of its application. In essence, it reveals the character of God and the involvement of God in the comos. These are the theological baselines for any reflection on the Christian faith with the intent of living out the story of God in our present world. The metanarrative is the ultimate commitment and criterion for ecclesial faith and practice.

Step Two: Textual Affirmation as Guide

What Scripture affirms is our guide. We certainly read it with theological commitments and a dramatic frame that we have received through the Rule of Faith, but it is also something we read with an eye toward deepening, adjusting, correcting, or interpreting that Rule of Faith. Scripture–as the original interpretation of God’s mighty acts–is the norming norm though we read it in continual dialogue with the Rule of Faith as well as the continuing tradition of the church.

A. Historical-Grammatical Exegesis.  This category covers lots of ground. It includes the simple reading of the text by children as well as the complex reading of the text by scholars of Hebrew and Greek. 

At one level, what the text affirms serves as an empirical boundary for understanding. There are elements in the text that are as “objectively there” as the tree in my front yard.  For example, Jesus of Nazareth lived and died. To deny the text affirms this is as unrealistic as to deny that there is a tree in my front yard. For more on this point, see my series “Created for Hermeneutics” on my Serial Index page, particularly post III.

At another level, what the text affirms is accessible to readers whether scholars or not. “The Rule of Faith,” for example, is something readers may discern as a summary of what the text affirms. “Scholarship” is unnecessary at this level.  It is a matter of reading the text, believing what it affirms and doing it. Believers through the ages have lived out the meaning of God’s story through spiritual and “common sense” readings of Scripture. “Scholarship”–in the sense of post-Enlightenment critical thought–is not necessary to believe and participate in the theodrama (as long as there is a translated text available 🙂 ).

At a further level, historical-grammatical exegesis as a “scholarly” discipline (with different levels of expertise or utilization; e.g., some know Greek and some do not, but they may all seek a “historical and grammatical” understanding of the text) helps us understand Scripture through the eyes of the original readers of the text. This gives us some guide for affirming what the text affirms and cuts away some of the accretions of tradition heaped on top of a text as well as recognizing how texts can be ripped from their context for the sake of polemics (e.g., “proof-texting”). The goal of this reading of Scripture is to focus on what the text actually affirms in its historical and grammatical setting rather than what it might appear to say if we read it as if it appeared in our daily newspaper in our own historical setting (e.g., “covered heads” in 1 Corinthians 11 would mean something entirely different in Roman Corinth than it would in Dearborn, Michigan).

A Baconian inductivist/deductivist reading, however, tends to read the Bible atomistically, flattens the text, and treats it more like a textbook than ancient history. In other words, it actually undermines a grammatical-historical reading of the text. This recontextualizes Scripture so that the text is made to affirm something it did not affirm and deduce “truths” which it never intended to teach. In essence, while clearly accessing biblical truth at one level, when it reconstitutes that truth by reading the text through the grid of its Baconian inductivist/deductivist reasoning, it sometimes denies what the text actually affirms.

B. Redemptive-Historical Reading.  This is a canonical reading of Scripture which recognizes the development and unity of themes throughout Scripture that is ultimately climaxed in Jesus the Messiah as one whose life and ministry embodies the in-breaking of the eschatological kingdom of God.

This reading assumes an organic unity within the story of God and within the canon itself; it is a canonical reading of the text.  It is not a unity that undermines diversity within the canon, but recognizes a unity that moves throughout the theodrama towards its climax. Practioners of the scholarly historical-grammatical method sometimes do not recognize this unity.  But reading Scripture in a redemptive-historical way unveils a Christological unity to the theodrama.

C. Forms of Theological Expression. Within the Reformed and Stone-Campbell traditions, CEI (command, example and inference) has often been the primary way of categorizing the modes by which Scripture “authorizes” something. It is the way “legal authority” is bestowed upon potential ecclesiological practices.

Categorizations are often helpful and CEI should not be dismissed simply because it is not found exactly in that form within the text of Scripture. What is crucial, however, is that we observe how biblical authors themselves utilize or assume these forms (or categories) for the purpose for which we ourselves claim to use them. This is when it becomes difficult. Without arguing the case in any detail here, I would suggest that there are multiple ways of categorizing such forms and the form “command, example and inference” is not necessarily a bad one in itself. There is no single way to do it and to some extent they all overlap with each other.  The primary issue is how we use them, for what purpose we use them, and the fundamental frame in which we use them.

Since the discussion of CEI is complex (and I have already commented on how it has been used in the Stone-Campbell heritage in previous posts), I will not attempt a comment here. Rather, I would suggest another–more helpful, in my opinion–way of categorizing these uses in Scripture or, as I call them in the heading, “forms of theological expression.”  I find Richard Hays’ four-fold category in his Moral Vision of the New Testament more sensitive to the historical and redemptive-historical setting of Scripture. 

1. Rules — explicit, direct commands or regulations that particular expressions of a principle.  Examples: “Command those who are rich…to be generous and willing to share” (1 Timothy 6:17-18 ) or “Sell your possessions and give to the poor” (Luke 12:33a).
2. Principles — general considerations by which particular decision are to be governed.  Example: “…work, doing something useful with his own hands, that he may have something to share with those in need” (Ephesians 4:28).
3. Paradigms — stories which model conduct or embody the principles in particular ways. Example: “All the believers were together and had everything in common.  Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had neeed” (Acts 2:44-45).
4. Symbolic World –the metanarrative which creates the perceptual categories through which reality is interpreted. Example: “Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift” (2 Corinthians 9:15).

When we read Scripture, I think it is legitimate to note these forms of expression as ways of guiding our application of the story of God in our own lives.  They provide guidelines for participating in the theodrama. They are not legal categories to be collated through the lens of a legal brief and then placed into syllogisms to construct a legal blueprint (which is the way CEI has often been used in the Stone-Campbell Movement). Rather, they are scripts of previous acts in the drama that give us direction for living out the script of God’s drama in the 21st century.

What is extremely significant is that each of these forms of theological expression are embedded in particular contexts and thus must be read in a grammatical-historical way.  Further, each of these forms are part of a canonical context (or, redemptive-historical context) and thus must be read in a way that reflects the dynamics of biblical theology. They must not be extracted from their literary and/or canonical contexts in order to construct an system that is extraneous to the metanarrative itself.

For example, commands exist within the nexus of redemptive-history (canonical flow), historical context and specific application. We do not usually think of the commands on a one-to-one equivalency with our own context. We do not practice everything the early church did in exactly the way they did (e.g., one loaf on the table). Rather, through these forms of theological expression we discern what is utilized within the theodrama that warrants a recontextualization of the command to our setting. Paradigms provide an illustration of the principles or an occasion for the implementation of the rule (command) while the Symbolic World provides the theological frame that gives meaning and significance to the rule, principle and paradigm.  Ultimately, it is the Symbolic World that suggests the normativity for recontextualization. The theodrama itself drives us to participation in the story as the rules, priniciples and paradigms guide us in living out that story.

By prioritizing the theodrama (metanarrative or Symbolic World), we provide a check against isolated and abstracted deductions (e.g., a church youth group cannot raise money for the poor through a car wash on church property) or the exaltation of rules to the level of a proof-text (e.g., footwashing in John 13). One way in which the metanarrative or Symbolic World should have regulated our incessant–and perhaps, given the hermeneutic used,  sound–inferences is the conclusion that churches cannot use money from their treasuries to help non-Christians. It seems to me, in light of the metanarrative, this is an absurd conclusion.  God gives to non-Christians all the time; he gave his Son for sinners. The whole theodrama is the gracious gift of God to his rebellious world, even while they were yet enemies.  The metanarrative should have, I think, checked our hermeneutic.  If our hermeneutic legitimately concludes that churches should not help non-Christian poor and the metanarrative shows God’s preference for the poor as well as his gifts to his enemies, then there is something seriously wrong with the hermeneutic itself!

The metanarrative or Symbolic World must judge our hermeneutical inferences, applications of commands (rules) and conclusions.

Step Three: Theological Centers as Normative.

At this point the call is to explore and reflect on what the text affirms, the redemptive-historical location and movement within the text, and the forms of theological expression present through the lens of the centers of biblical theology. Normativity, I believe, is located in these theological centers. In other words, how we live out the story of God in the present is guided by the centers of biblical theology as given to us in the textual affirmations, redemptive-historical locations, and forms of theological expression. It is the theological centers that ground our faith and practice in something more than ancient culture.

In the previous two posts in this series I have suggested that our fundamental lens for understanding and appropriating biblical theology is the Christ Event.  At this point, as a complementary but different angle on the same point, I want to suggest a four-fold lens. 

The function of the lens is to embrace a vision of the character of God revealed through the theodrama. Consequently, it is a theocentric focus–it is to the praise and glory of God.  At the same time, it is also Christocentric as the means for knowing God since he reveals himself in Jesus and the Incarnate One “exegetes” the Father (John 1:18). Jesus, as the image of God, is the embodiment of the character of God and  pursues the mission of God. The lens, then, points to the character and mission of God as it is revealed in the Christ Event. Another way of saying that is with a 4-Cs:  Creation, Community, Christ, and Consummation. There are, of course, other ways of saying this, but this is a good pedagogical handle for me–and the aliteration helps too. 🙂

1. Creation-the divine intent. God created community, intended humanity represent (image) him in the world, and to fill the earth with his glory (humans who image him in caring for the cosmos).
2. Community–whether in Israel or the Church, God intended a kind of community where there are no poor or needy; a community that shared life together and shared the task of imaging God in the world, a redemptive community in a fallen world. Through Scripture–through his messengers, prophets, etc.–God seels to shape his community into that redemptive community that bears his image.
3. Christ–God entered the world as flesh and lived among us. He is the image of God; he is the true human just as he is truly (authentically) human. He is what humans are supposed to be in a fallen world. His ministry is the ministry of true humans. The incarnation answers the question what would God do if he were one of us.
4. Consummation (New Creation)–the divine goal. What is God’s kingdom climax? This is the world that God will ultimately recreate. It is the kind of world that should intrude into the present–the eschatological reality should be present in the church. The church should be shaped by the divine eschatological goal.

At the center of these themes is imaging (imitating) God which we discern through following Jesus and practicing the kingdom of God which has already arrived in the community of disciples.

Conclusion

I know I have left this “hanging” a bit. I have not yet illustrated the method or brought it to bear on historic issues in the Stone-Campbell Movement.  But this post is already too long (over 2500 words) and so I will have to pursue the illustrations and applications in another post (or series).

Patience, my friends.  🙂  Besides, I have to figure where I have left myself in this mess.  If you’re confused, take heart–so am I.  🙂