John Mark Hicks

After a “deserved” break (for you as well as me), I now return to my series on “theological hermeneutics.” (For the previous articles, see the heading “Hermeneutics” on my Serial Index page.)

My last few posts in this series emphasized the redemptive-historical character of Scripture as a function of the narrative plot of God’s story. In particular, I have suggested (along with others, of course–it is not my invention or solitary insight) that we read Scripture as a Five Act drama: Creation, Israel, Ministry of Jesus, Church and Eschaton. In this reading, it is appropriate to think of Creation and Eschaton as the bookends, the intent (creative purpose) and goal (eschatologial telos), of God’s story. Israel and the Church are the historical implementation of the divine intent within in a broken world with mixed results as both Scripture andecclesiastical history make clear.

In this post I want to suggest that the Christ Event (or, more specifically but not limited to, the ministry of Jesus) is the eschatological realization of the divine intent and goal within history. Whew! I need to unpack that one but it deserves a book. Here is a brief attempt.

What I mean by “Christ Event” is the broad conception of Christology itself.  The “Christ Event” is the incarnation, ministry, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus of Nazareth. It is fundamentally an act of God in and through the flesh to redeem the cosmos.

In this post I will concentrate on the “ministry of Jesus” since it is, I think, often underplayed in the history of theology, particulary in Stone-Campbell theology. Yet we should always think about the “Christ Event” holistically rather than compartmentalizing it or neglecting some of its aspects (e.g., Evangelicals tend to emphasize the death of Christ more than any other dimension–just compare how many songs we sing about the cross in contrast with how many we sing about the ministry or resurrection of Jesus).

The ministry of Jesus is not simply the historical evidence of the messianic office of Jesus (which is its primary function in Stone-Campbell thinking). For example, the miracles of Jesus in this frame are often regarded as simple authentifications of the message rather than eschatological signs of the reign of God.  Neither is the ministry of Jesus simply the active obedience of Jesus to secure active righteousness for the sake of imputation in a Reformation doctrine of justification (as is often the case in historic Reformed theology). For example, the obedience of Jesus is seen more in the context of meritorious achievement rather than a path of discipleship. I want to suggest–without denying the substance of the above–that the ministry of Jesus is itself the implementation of the divine intent of creation and the realization of the eschatological goal within history. It is the climatic moment in the history of redemption because it embodies the intent and goal of God’s story.

On the one hand, the ministry of Jesus is the presence of the Incarnate God at work to reverse the brokenness of the world, that is, the mission of Jesus is to reverse the curse. He is the true image of God–indeed, the one through whom the cosmos was made. He is the true Israel–all that Israel should have been; he is the remnant of Israel. He is the beloved Son of God who lives out the original divine intent in creation as humanity was intended to do. He is the fleshly and personal emodiment of God’s creative intent which should not be surprising since he is the instrument of creation itself.

On the other hand, the ministry of Jesus is the presence of the eschaton. The future arrived in the person and ministry of Jesus. His ministry is an eschatological ministry–he raises the dead, heals the sick, includes the outsider, brings good news to the poor. The eschatological hopes of Israel are realized in the minsitry of Jesus (e.g., Matthew 4:12-17). His death is an eschatological one–it is no mere physical death but a participation in the eschatological death (curse) that hangs over the creation. His resurrection–and this is the easiest one to see–is an eschatological event; it belongs to the future but appears within the flow of history as the firstfruits of the Eschaton. The incarnation itself, I would suggest, is an eschatological reality as the person of God dwells with his people on the earth which is both the original walk of God in the Garden and the hope of Revelation 21:1-4.

Without fully arguing this point, permit me to stress its significance. As the historic instantiation of divine intent and the proleptic realization of God’s eschatological goal, the ministry of Jesus (as part of the Christ Event) is the “pattern” (model, or whatever synonymn or metaphor one might want to employ) for living out the story of God. He is the story of God lived. He is the embodiment of both divine intent and the divine goal. The climax of the story of God appears within history as the fulfillment of divine intent and in anticipation of the appearance of the Eschaton itself. He is the image of God–what God intended his creation to be. He is the Son of Man–not in the sense that he is is human, but in the sense that he is the presence of the Eschaton (“Son of Man” is an eschatological title).

Understood in this way, the ministry of Jesus is the ministry of the church; the mission of Jesus is the mission of the church. I have made this point previously but it is important to stress this in the context of redemptive-historical hermeneutics. The ministry of Jesus is not simply the central act in terms of the middle act of five acts, but it is the central act because it is both the embodiment of the original (first) act and the last (fifth) act. It is beginning, center and goal of history itself. Consequently, the ministry of Jesus is the climactic moment in redemptive history. It serves, then, as the hermeneutical lens for thinking about divine intent and goal as we seek to live out the story of God in the present. The ministry of Jesus–or, speaking more holistically, the Christ Event–is our hermeneutical lens.

Israel was created to be the image of God in the world, but it was flawed. The church was created to be the image of God in the world, but it is flawed. The image of God is lived in Jesus. Neither Israel (as is clear from the Hebrew Scriptures) nor the church (as is clear from the Epistles) are the pattern for the image of God but rather Jesus–the Christ Event–is that pattern.

How this plays out in terms of specific ecclesiological issues that have dominated discussions within Reformed and Stone-Campbell hermeneutics is an important question to which I will soon turn. But the theological substance is what is important to me at this point. It is to see Christology–rather than ecclesiology–as the core pattern for living out the story of God and embodying the narrative of God in our present lives both individually and communally. 

Ultimately, our ecclesiology must be an expression and application of Christology. Ecclesiology cannot stand on its own. Rather, it is built on the foundation of Jesus Christ; it is built on the foundation of the ministry of Jesus. Just as Israel found its fulfillment in the ministry of Jesus, so the church continues the ministry of Jesus. Everything before the ministry of Jesus pointed toward it and everything after the ministry of Jesus should be grounded in it.

Part of my point is that to find the “pattern” for the church in the Acts and the Epistles is to get the cart before the horse. The pattern for the church is the ministry of Jesus. The Acts and the Epistles are illustrations of how the church lived out the ministry of Jesus as it spread across the known world. The Acts and Epistles do not constitute “patterns” (specified, detail instructions about how to “do church”) for the church but rather guides (explanations, interpretations and applications of the “Christ Event”) for how to live out the pattern exhibited in the ministry of Jesus himself who is both the Image (intent) and Eschaton (goal) of God.

On February 2 of this year I conducted a one day seminar at the North Davis Church of Christ in Arlington, Texas. They had invited me to prepare some materials for a congregational-wide study of Baptism, the Lord’s Supper and Assembly based on my three books (Come to the Table, Down in the River to Pray [co-authored with Greg Taylor], and A Gathered People [co-authored with Johnny Melton and Bobby Valentine]) in their Sunday Bible classes.

The seminar was conducted for teachers and interested parties, and the material was used in Bible classes from February 9 to June 8 (I presented the first two lessons on Feb 2 in a combined Bible class and the morning assembly). I thank Doug Peters, the preaching minister of the church, for inviting me to conduct the “North Davis University”–as it is called–for the Winter of 2008. The sermon in audio or video (yuck!) is available here.

I have uploaded the teaching outlines for this twenty lesson series to my Bible Class page. It is entitled “Transforming Encounter: Baptism, Lord’s Supper and Assembly.”

The objectives of this series were two-fold.  First, it attempts to shift our thinking about these “ordinances” or “sacraments” from an anthropocentric orientation (“what we do”) to a more theocentric one (“what God does”). The sacramental character of Baptism, Lord’s Supper and Assembly is located in the nature of the divine act through these gifts. Without denying that there is human responsibility and action involved in each of these moments, the emphasis belongs on what God does in order to appreciate their function as means of grace.

Second, the series attempts to renew our experience of these “ordinances” or “sacraments” as means of grace by which God communes with us, transforms us, and empowers us for his mission in the world. The goal is not merely cognitive nor intellectual but rather practical, concrete and communal. How might we experience these moments of divine grace in ways that embody and bear witness to the divine act among us? I think that this an important question for churches, especially as assemblies become more focused on mutual edification rather than divine presence, as baptism becomes more privatized as an event for the youth group, immediate family or a small group, and as the Lord’s Supper continues to be a private, vertical experienced between God and isolated individuals in our assemblies.

It is opportune for me to offer this series at this point as I will soon resume my series on hermeneutics.  If one reads through the outline below, the series follows a redemptive-historical agenda:  God (and creation assumed here), then Israel, then the Ministry of Jesus, then the Church (including the history of the church) and leads to contemporary theological reflection and practice. Eschatological considerations are scattered throughout the series. This is an example, I think–and I hope, of theological hermeneutics at work.

Below is the table of contents for the teaching outlines which generally are two to three pages for each session.

1                Divine “Ordinances” or “Sacraments”?

                        Text:  Matthew 28:18-20

                        Focus:  Communal Moments of Divine Action

2                Divine Community—Participating in the Divine Life

                        Text:  John 17:20-26

                        Focus:  Inclusion of Humanity in the Divine Fellowship

3                Israel—Baptized into Moses in the Sea

                        Texts:  1 Corinthians 10:1-4; Exodus 15; Leviticus 15

                        Focus:   God Redeems and Cleanses his People

4                Israel—Assembled at the Mountain

                        Texts:  Exodus 19; 24:1-11; Leviticus 23

                        Focus:  God Calls His People into Assemblies Sanctified by his Presence

5                Israel—Eating with God at Table

                        Texts:  Exodus 24:1-11; Leviticus 3, 7

                        Focus:  God Eats with His People in Peace and Communion

6                Jesus—Baptized with Sinners in the Jordan

                        Texts:  Luke 3:1-21

                        Focus:  The Baptism of Jesus is the first Christian Baptism.

7                Jesus—Participant and Fulfillment of Assembly

                        Texts:  John 4:1-24

                        Focus:  Jesus is the True Temple of God in whom We Worship

8                Jesus—Eating with Sinners at Table

                        Texts:  Luke 5:27-32; 9:10-17; 11:37-54; 14:1-24; 22:7-38.

                        Focus:  Jesus Sits at Table with Sinners.

9                Church—Eating with Jesus at Table

                        Texts:  Luke 24:13-35; Acts 20:7-12

                        Focus:  The Living Jesus Hosts the Table in the Church.

10               Church—Baptized in Water and Spirit

                        Texts:  Acts 2:37-41; Acts 9:1-19 [Acts 22:10-16]; Acts 10:24-48

                        Focus:  God Receives His People through Water and Spirit.

11               Church—Assembled in the Spirit as Community

                        Texts:  Acts 2:42-47

                        Focus:  The Heart of Christian Assembly is Word and Table.

12               History of Baptism—From Discipleship to Citizenship

                        Text:  Galatians 3:26-29; Colossians 2:11-15

                        Focus:  Infant Baptism shifted the meaning of the rite.

13               History of Assembly—From Mystery to Penance

                        Text:  Hebrews 12:22-24

                        Focus:  Assembly Shifted from Mystical Experience to Legal Formalism.

14               History of Lord’s Supper—From Table to Altar

                        Text:  1 Corinthians 11:28-33

                        Focus:  The Mass Shifted the Focus from Communion to Forgiveness.

15               The Stone-Campbell Movement’s Restoration Agenda

                        Text:  2 Thessalonians 2:13-17

                        Focus:  Restoring to the Church the Original Intent of the Sacraments.

16               The Stone-Campbell Movement’s Legal Atmosphere

                        Text:  Ephesians 2:8-10

                        Focus:  Positive Law Transformed the Sacraments into Legalities.

17               Theology of Baptism—God’s Work and Our Discipleship

                        Text:  Romans 6:1-11; Colossians 2:11-15; Galatians 3:26-29

                        Focus:  Baptism is our Participation in and Identification with the Gospel.

18               Theology of Assembly—A Relational Love-Fest

                        Text:  Hebrews 10:19-25

                        Focus:  Assembly is a Gospel Experience and Witness.

19               Theology of Lord’s Supper—Communing with God and Each Other

                        Text:  1 Corinthians 10:14-17

                        Focus:  The Lord’s Supper is Communion in the Gospel.

20               Divine Encounter—Sacramental Grace

                        Text:  Matthew 18:15-20

                        Focus:  God Transforms his People through “Holy Moments”

In 1996, 1998, and 2000 I conducted one day, Saturday, seminars for the Pennyrile Church of Christ in Madisonville, KY to which area ministers and members were invited to spend a day discussing “current” theological questions.  My friend Norris DeBerry was the minister for the church at the time.

Those were encouraging, helpful discussions, I think. We did not all agree, but that is part of the process of thinking through some of these questions. It was a respectful dialogue in which love abounded…for the most part.  🙂

BTW, I have not been invited back since.  🙂  There is no problem; my good friend Jon Partlow is the minister there now. Well, maybe that is the reason after all.  🙂

I have uploaded to my General page the handouts for those three seminars.  These are detailed handouts (20-30 pages) and some of the material became parts of books in 2004 (Down in the River to Pray) and 2007 (Gathered People). The handouts, therefore, are rather dated and may not always reflect my current thinking.  Nevertheless, I provide them here for whatever benefit some might gain from them.

In May 1996 the seminar was entitled “Worship: What’s All the Fuss About?” Some of this appears in “A Gathered People.”  The charts are probably most helpful and the material that focuses on some of the “worship war” issues offers opinions about music, solos, posture, etc. which we did not discuss and intentionally avoided in the book.

In May 1998 the seminar was entitled  “The Water that Divides.” The topic is baptism. Some of this appears in “Down in the River to Pray.”  There are charts that do not appear in the book in any significant way and covers some ground that is more general than the book.

In May 2000 the seminar was entitled  “Hermeneutics and Gender.” The topic is the “role of women in the assembly” (and somewhat more generally about leadership, etc.).  This is dated material in my opinion, but the data, argument and processing may be helpful to some. For a more balanced (and up-to-date) take on “Egalitarian vs. Complementarian” see my bible class material “Women Serving God.” Sorry, no book by me (at least of recent vintage) on this topic. I have much more to learn, think about and dialogue about before I venture into those choppy waters any time soon.  🙂

Ok, I’ll confess.  I did co-author a book with Bruce Morton that was published in 1978 by Lambert Book House. I wrote the material when I was 18 years old, single and attending Freed-Hardeman. It was entitled “Women’s Role in the Church,” which you can still purchase (wow!).  Of course, it was a wise (tongue firmly planted in cheek) thing for an unmarried teenager to write about women!  Bad move on my part, but the young do some rather strange things. When my mother read it, she had one comment.  “You use the word ‘subordination’ alot in there.” Ouch!  🙂  How embarrassing!  Forgive me, Mom….and my daughters and my wives…and…well, everyone.  🙂  The book is not all bad, but it ain’t all good either. In any event, it is part of my history, my story and I certainly would not be where I am now on my spiritual journey without the experience and research that went into that book as well as the maturing of my friendship with Bruce. That I do not regret.  

[Forgive me, Bruce, if I have overstepped here….my friend attended Sheila’s funeral in 1980 at great expense when he and his family had very little money. That comfort is etched in my memory and I will never forget it.  Thanks, Bruce!]

Since I will be gone for the next week, I thought I would provide these handouts to chew on just in case someone is in need of a “Hicks fix”.  BTW, if you are in such need, there is something seriously wrong with you and I think you need to start attending a 12-step group.

When I think of the dramatic story of Scripture in terms of divine presence (as I did in my previous post on theological hermeneutics), my mind always turns toward the absence of those whom I have loved and lost. This may seem a strange twist, but it is a natural flow for me because divine presence is God’s response to our experience of loss.

In Christ, grievers may experience this divine presence in several ways.

We experience the special providence of God who cares for us even in our darkness, even in our lament. We are encouraged to live one day at a time because not only is the trouble of that day sufficient but also because God cares for us just as he cares for the lillies of the field and the birds of the air (Matthew 6).

We experience the hope of the eschatological presence of God. This is an anchor for the soul as we trust in God’s ultimate victory. Death will not win; the graves will open. God will renew his cosmos, including our bodies and provide a place where we may see God’s face and dwell with the Triune God forever (Revelation 21-22).

We experience the comforting pneumatological presence of God. The indwelling Spirit groans with us in our laments, intercedes for us in our hurts, and gives peace to our hearts in the midst of our pains. This is no mere external word of promise but the internal work of God who fills us with “joy and peace” through faith by the “power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13). It is the daily presence of God in our lives to walk with us, at times carry us and at all times actively transforming us into the image of Christ.

We experience the presence of God in the heavenly sanctuary when we assemble with other disciples of Jesus to pray and praise God. This presence is, most significantly for those who grieve, a presence with not only God but with all those gathered around the throne of God.  We who are the earthly sanctuary of God by the indwelling Spirit join the all the saints in the heavenly sanctuary when we gather as a community. The earthly community is united with the heavenly community. This foretaste of the eschatological community–this foretaste of eschatological presence–is a communion with all the saints, including not only those from whom we are separated by geography here upon the earth but those from whom we are separated by death (Hebrews 12:22-24).

I find comfort in each of mode of divine presence, sometimes more one than another, and sometimes my lament forgets all of them and the fog only permits me to sense–and then protest–God’s absence.  But ultimately God is never absent; he is always present. And his presence is no mere passivity–it is an active, loving, communing, engaging, transforming presence.  God is no spectator; he is a participant. He loves me and is at work for me, in me and through me. This is what I trust and remembering these modes of presence helps me interpret the meaning and significance of my life. It provides a means by which I can understand my own participaton in the story of God.

At times the most important of these to me is the last one–the presence of God in the heavenly sanctuary when heaven and earth are joined in assembly. To experience assembly as the presence of God is one of the most comforting of all experiences for me.

Bobby, Johnny and I dedicated our book, A Gathered People, in this way:  “To those whom we love but cannot see except as we meet them around God’s throne every Lord’s Day.”

That is comforting to me.  This past Lord’s Day, as I worshipped with my community at Woodmont Hills with my wife and daughter, I again enjoyed with smiles and tears the presence of Sheila, Joshua, Barry, and Dad along with many others who crossed my mind. It was a deeply moving emotional experience as well as Spiritually (note the capital S!) therapeutic.

“Holy, Holy, Holy” (the sanctus) is sung not only by the saints upon the earth, but the angelic hosts and departed saints around the throne. In assembly, we become one voice–angelic, human and all creation–of praise to the one who created us and has loved us beyond our imagination.

With this post, I will lay down my keyboard for a few weeks on this topic as I leave Friday or Saturday for a week vacation without electronics.  But I will continue this series again upon my return.  I envision six or seven more articles on “theological hermeneutics” and then a new series on “applied” theological hermeneutics where I will address some ecclesiological issues significant for Stone-Campbell churches. I hope to illustrate my method and meaning in a practical way through that series.

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One of the more significant redemptive-historical themes that is at the heart of the metanarrative of God’s story is divine presence.

Divine presence has several different significations within the biblical narrative–all “presence” is not of the same kind or nature. For example, one may speak of “omnipresence” by which most theologians mean that everything is present to God (or, if you prefer, God is everywhere, that is, there is no space where God is absent or that space is hidden from God). It is a spatial metaphor that basically means that all space is filled by or present to God. This a function of God’s transcendence, that is, God transcends space and at the same time encompasses it.

Another kind of presence is what has been historically called “special providence” or a special presence that works for or enables a specific action in the world through particular individuals, communities or circumstances. For example, God was “with” the Patriarchs (e.g., Gen. 21:20, 22; 26:24; 31:42; 48:21, etc.). This kind of providential action and presence may be with believers or unbelievers; it is not limited to a particular epoch of redemptive history. God still acts in special ways today just as he did in Scripture. This is perhaps what we mean when we say to someone “God be with you.”

However, in this post I am interested in the idea of divine presence in the sense of communion or dwelling. That God dwells with humanity, or communes with humanity, or enjoys resting in relationship with humanity is the sense of presence that I think is a core value in the metanarrative. In fact, one might say it is the structure of the theodrama itself (though all themes could also reveal this structure). Readers might remind themselves of my proposed acts in the theodrama and my way of thinking about redemptive history within the narrative of Scripture to fully understand my example below.

Theodramatic Structure and Divine Presence

Act One: Creation–Garden Presence. After six days of creating, God rested on the seventh day. This divine rest is not simple passivity. Rather, the rest is a kind of “resting in” or enjoying the creation. God delights (“it is very good”) in and dwells (walks in the Garden) with humanity in the good cosmos. The rest of God is the mutual enjoyment of God, humanity and the cosmos.

Acts Two: Israel–Temple Presence. This is the place God chose to dwell in the Hebrew Scriptures. God dwells in his temple; his feet rest on the footstool of the Ark of the Covenant. This is a special presence which communes with Israel in relationship. Israel experienced this presence at the temple; there they entered the earthly sanctuary (dwelling-place) which was typological of the heavenly sanctuary. This is what I see in 2 Chronicles 6-7 and Leviticus 26:11-12, for example; or alluded to so often in the Psalms such as 63 or 132. This is a form of redemptive presence as God meets Israel at the temple for the sake of grace, mercy and forgiveness.

Act Three: Incarnational Presence (Logos in the flesh). This is the presence of God walking upon the earth. God dwelt among his people in the flesh rather than in a temple. This is what I see in Matthew 1–“God with us” (Immanuel) or in John 1 (“the Word became flesh and dwelt among us”). This is the climactic moment in that God becomes human.  It is an eschatological moment in that it anticipates the future when God will fully dwell with humanity on a renewed earth (“new heavens and new earth”).

Act Four: Pneumatological Presence (Holy Spirit dwells in Christians).  The Spirit dwells in the bodies of individual Christians and in the body of Christ as a community. This is another form of redemptive presence- -it is the sanctifying presence of God who transforms us by his presence. This is the presence of the Spirit on earth; our bodies are the divine sanctuary on earth and the church community is the sanctuary of God upon the earth. Through the presence of the Spirit we commune with the Father and Son in our daily walk. Through the Spirit, Christ dwells in our hearts by faith and is always present with us. This is what I see in Matthew 28:20; 1 Corinthians 3 & 6.

Act Five: Eschatological Presence (God dwells with Redeemed Humanity). This is when the new Jerusalem descends to the new earth. God–the Triune God–fully dwells with his people upon the earth. There is no temple; there is no sanctuary. The whole earth is the dwelling-place of God. This is the fulfillment of the divine intent in redemption. The whole earth has become his sanctuary. This is what I see in Rev. 21-22. The Garden presence of God is restored to the earth but it is not merely a restoration but a glorification since what is mortal has now been transformed into immortality (resurrection). Act One is not repeated but consummated and a new phase of the same journey begins–a journey into the depth and riches of communion with God, with each other and with the creation.

Assembly (Gathered Believers): An Application of this Redemptive-Historical Structure

Presence in the Heavenly Sanctuary through Assembly.  This is the “already” of the indwelling Spirit (Pneumatological Presence) but also an experience of the “not yet” of Eschatological Presence. It is the unique experience in redemptive history of Christians but yet a fulfillment of Israel’s own experience at the temple.

It is my understanding that when believers assemble (whether two or two thousand; whether on Sunday or Monday) “into the name” of Jesus they enter the heavenly sanctuary (the Holy of Holies) and join the assembly of the saints and angels around the throne of God. This is the presence of the earthly saints in the heavenly throne room to experience communion with the Triune God (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit). I would suggest Hebrews 10:19-25 and 12:18-24 reflect this idea as a means of encouraging some frustrated believers.

I believe there is a distinction between the Spirit dwelling in our hearts by whom we cry “Abba” and walk daily in the presence of God and our entrance into the Holy of Holies into the presence of the Triune God in the heavenly sanctuary by the Spirit. In the former the Spirit as descended into our hearts. In the latter we ascend into the heavenly sanctuary by the Spirit.

Pneumatological presence, then, enables a foretaste of the eschaological presence. The Spirit lifts up into the presence of God and the Lamb (as in Revelation 4-7). In this communal moment we experience something more than the Spirit dwelling in our hearts. We experience the throne room of God where the whole cosmos is gathered.

At one level, the indwelling of the Spirit fulfills the type of the temple presence of God in Israel. At another level it is the gathered assembly of indwelt believers that participates in the reality that was only typified in the earthly temple of Israel.  Though we gather in assembly on earth just as Israel did at the temple, our experience transcends Israel’s as we enter the heavenly sanctuary itself by the Spirit of God who unites us with the eschatological reality, the throne of God in heaven.

Our entrance into the heavenly sanctuary as a community is a cosmic communal event.  There–in the heavenly sanctuary–we are present with God, but also with heaven and earth itself, with the host of angels, with all the saints gathered into the sanctuary from all around the world, and with all the saints who have already passed the veil of death.  It is an eschatological communal event. It is an already experience of the not-yet eschatological reality. This is what I see in Hebrews 10 and 12 (as well as Matthew 18:20).

This is a topic Bobby Valentine, Johnny Melton and I have pursued in our A Gathered People: Revisioning the Assembly as Transforming Encounter (Abilene: Leafwood Press, 2007).

P. S. On the Redemptive-Historical preaching, see Michael Horton’s article in Modern Reformation.  This is but one article among many that would be helpful in thinking bout this redemptive-historical method.

Imbibing the theodrama by reading Scripture is critical to the development of our theological sensitivities. One of the more important dimensions of this maturing understanding of the theodrama is the concept of redemptive-historical movement within the drama itself.

The theodrama is progressive; it is telos-oriented or goal-oriented. Watching the movement of the drama toward the goal through the various movements of redemptive history is quite instructive and formative for biblical-theological thought. It is a significant part, I think, of theological hermeneutics. It provides, in fact, a critical insight into the continuity and discontinuity of the biblical story (e.g., between Old Testament and New Testament) and highlights the plot line of the metanarrative itself.

Below is a “relatively simple” approach (or method) to reading Scripture with our eyes open to the redemptive-historical movements within the drama.

1. Inductively discover the flow of Redemptive History through reading and exegesis. Consistent, extensive and intensive exposure to the biblical text is necessary. There is no substitute for reading chucks of the biblical text such as reading whole books at a time or reading pericopes in a sitting.  Reading a chapter a day is fine and good, but sometimes we miss the flow by breaking our reading into arbitrary (yes, that is what chapter breaks are for the most part) divisions. When reading, seek to be in tune with or watch for the redemptive cycles present.  The metanarrative cyle of Creation, Chaos (Fall), Redemption is repeated throughout Scripture.

2. Identify the key events of Redemptive History. What are the peak events of redemptive history throughout the Biblical narrative? Peak events are turning points, beginning points or closures in redemptive history.  Some of them are quite obvious, e.g., Creation, Exodus, Sinai, Conquest of the Land, Building of the Temple, Exile, Restoration, Incarnation, Resurrection, Pentecost. Others are more moderate in character, that is, they participate in the larger moments but are nevertheless formative for how faith is experienced by a community.  For example, the table experience of Israel on Sinai in Exodus 24 is a significant moment in redemptive history that shapes how Israel experiences assemblies and fellowship offerings in the rest of its history.

3. Identify the key texts which explicitly interpret these events. The narratives of the events themselves, of course, are interpretative. They give their own significance to the events.  However, within Scripture, other texts also interpret and apply (perhaps even reapply to different contexts) the significance of the event. How do the texts frame the event and interpret them (including later texts)? Creation is narrated in Genesis 1-3 but is also poetically interpreted and applied to Israel in Psalm 33.  The Exodus is narrated in Exodus 1-15 but it is also interpreted in Deuteronomy 5-11.  The Building of the Temple is narrated in both 1 Kings 8 and 2 Chronicles 5-7 with different emphases and varied meaning, but the moment of the Ark’s resting in the dwelling place of God is poetically celebrated in Psalm 132. The death of Jesus is narrated in the Gospels (each with their own unique take on the significance and meaning–just think of the different “words from the cross” in each Gospel), but the meaning of the death of Jesus is also interpreted and applied in Romans.  And the list could go on…and on…and on.

4. Discover the central theological themes through exegesis. What theological themes are evidenced in the interpretation of the event in the various contexts and literary genres? For example, when we examine the prayer of Solomon at the temple dedication in 2 Chronicles 6 we see themes like sin, grace, forgiveness, and the orientation of the human heart. The building itself, though not without significance, is symbolic of these themes and the concrete way in which Israel experiences these themes. The Temple has sacramental significance. It is God’s gracious presence in Israel; God is present in grace, mercy, reconciliation, and forgiveness.  This is what the Temple represents in the theological interpretation offered by Solomon’s prayer.

5. Integrate the theological themes into a redemptive-historical matrix. How does the event and its attached interpretation fit into the whole of redemptive-history? For example, what is the redemptive-historical significance of the building of the temple.  As God’s gracious, forgiving and reconciling presence in Israel, it represents the loving-kindness of God to the people of Israel. It is a testimony of God’s basic orientation toward Israel. This presence is analogous to God appearing to Jacob at Bethel, to Moses in the burning bush, etc. It is the testimony of God’s love.  Other themes, of course, could be developed as I am merely illustrating.

6. Integrate the theological themes into a theological flow within the Biblical story. As we reflect on the themes of reconciliation, grace and forgiveness, how do these themes appear through the metanarrative of the story of God?  The temple is but one concrete expression of something that we see throughout God’s relationship with humanity. Whether it is the grace Noah received, or the grace Abraham received, or the forgiveness David experience in the sancturary, or God’s gracious response to the prayers of Jehoshaphat, etc., we come to see this is the character of God who is slow to anger and rich in mercy.

7. Apply the theological themes in a Christological Context. How are the theological themes of these redemptive-historical events fulfilled (or interpreted) in a Christological (or “new covenant”) context? The temple presence of God in Israel, for example, finds fulfillment in both the incarnation of the Logos who as  God dwells (lives) among his people in the flesh and also in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit into the body of Christ (the indwelling of the Spirit).

This is a controversial biblical-theological step. I think it is quite legitimate and reflects a canonical hermeneutic–one that reads the whole canon in the light of the climactic mighty act of God in Christ. In other words, how do I think Christologically about the Old Testament? The unity of redemptive history and the climax of that history in Christ yield a Christological application.

The unity of redemptive history is theocentric, but also Christological. The various lines of the biblical story converge at a Christological point (cf. Luke 24:32, 44). The OT was written “about” Jesus. This was characteristic of Jesus’ 40 days of teaching, and Jesus refers to the whole of Scripture. Christological application is the unity of Scripture.

This is evidenced in the preaching in Acts: “all the prophets” (3:18-24; 10:43; cf. Acts 13:27; 17:2-3; 26:22-23).  Redemptive-historical themes taken up in the history of Israel find their climax (fulfillment) in Christ. Thus, it is not only appropriate to think theologically about those themes in the context of their Hebraic setting, but also in the context of their Christological setting. It is a both/and, but it is also a type/fulfillment as well.

This should not be mistaken for finding Christ under every rock in the Old Testament. On the contrary, it is not a search for Christ in the Old Testament but rather teasing out the redemptive themes in the Hebrew Scriptures in terms of their Christological fulfillment. Whether it is presence, grace, forgiveness, reconciliation, atonement, etc., these grand theological motifs in the history of Israel–known through redemptive-historical events and prophetic interpretation–find their final (telic) and climactic reality in the Christ Event.

This does not mean that the theodrama is Christocentric in antagonism to theocentrism.  Rather, quite the opposite is true. The theodrama is God-centered–it is divine action that redeems humanity. But it is Christocentric in terms of the means by which God accomplishes the redemption of humanity. God redeems his cosmos through Christ by the Spirit.

8. Apply the Christological reflection to contemporary needs. How should this Christological fulfillment (interpretation) be applied to modern needs and questions? Setting the biblical-theological themes in a Christological context provides a way of applying those themes to those who who live in the Messianic age (the “last days”) and who follow the Messiah as disciples. The presence of the Holy Spirit, for example, is grounded in Christ’s ascension to the right hand of the Father after having made purification for sin and poured out the Spirit into our hearts. The presence of the Spirit is the sanctifying and transforming work of God to conform us to the image of Christ.

The Point:  If we read something in the New Testament in isolation from its roots in the Hebrew Scriptures, then we will miss something. We will miss the larger significance of the point in the theodrama. We might miss the theocentric character of the point as we default to a Christocentrism (or even a Christomonism). Further, we might miss the theological character of the point as we isolate the text in order to fit it into some constitutional “pattern” rather than the seeing it as part of the theodrama. Consequently, a redemptive-historical perspective on the theodrama is, I think, practically essential for gaining a wholistic perspective on any significant theological topic if we are to apply and embody it fully in our own contexts. Redemptive history–through an inductive reading of the narrative where the metanarrative is visible–provides a fuller understanding of the mighy acts of God and how they shape us for and call us to participation in the the theodrama, the grand story of God.

At this point I am tempted to reproduce an earlier post entitled An Increasingly Common Analogy.  Instead, I will simply ask those who are interested to read it. In summary, we are participating in a theodrama (to use Vanhoozer’s term in his Drama of Doctrine).  On the analogy of a five act (or six, depending on how one construes it) play, God has created, invested, incarnated, poured out and ultimately will consummate his drama for the sake of the cosmos. The main actor is God. We are invited to participate in that story.

Turning Lamar’s hermeneutical metaphor on its head, instead of constructing a “Temple of Truth” through a Baconian method I propose that our task is to explore the Temple (Scripture) in order to immerse ourselves in the metanarrative so that we might participate in God’s creative and redemptive project for creation. [Steven Broyles, “James Sanford Lamar and the Substructure of Biblical Interpretation in the Restoration Movement.” Restoration Quarterly 29.3 (1987), 143-151, first suggested this twist of Lamar’s metaphor.]

My interest in this post is to outline the movements in this theodrama with specific interest in their theological function for the hermeneutical task. Of course, much more needs to be said than what I can do in this single post. Nevertheless, I trust the primary thrust of each will be clear and provide a basis for future posts.

Five Acts of the Theodrama

Act One: Creation.  The divine act of creation declares the intent of God. God created what he wanted for the purposes for which he wanted. The divine community created a human community within a cosmic reality. A theology of creation of an essential beginning point for thinking theologically in the hermeneutical task. We see God’s intent for communion. We see his purpose for humanity as representatives of divine life upon the earth–we are the images (icons) of God who participate in the divine tasks of creating and caring for the creation. We see the divine intent to rest in his creation, that is, to delight in, enjoy and commune with his beloved world. Unfortunately, in the creation narratives and early human history, we see humanity’s movement from an assertion of autonomy (e.g., in the Garden) to their assumption of divine prerogatives (e.g., Babel) with all the accompanying chaos, violence, oppression and immorality that comes in the way of humanity’s degenerative spiral away from God.

Act Two: Israel.  God graciously entered into covenant with a people who were called to represent (image) God in the brokenness of the Ancient Near East.  God graciously intitiates a relationship (e.g., call of Abraham), grounds that relationship in redemptive acts (e.g., Exodus) and invites them to live as the light of God among the nations (e.g., Sinai). The story of Israel is the story of a people struggling to live as the images of God in a fallen world. The covenant of love that binds them to God guides them in living out God’s intent for his creation in the situatedness of the idolatrous Ancient Near East. The Torah provides the origins and law of the covenant, the histories narrate the story of God’s redemptive engagement with his people, the prophets call the people to embrace the covenantal life, and the wisdom schools apply the life of God to the the practical investment of the covenant in life. God’s pursuit of Israel, God’s investment in their lives and God’s guidance for life in the world is a model for believers; a way to listen to God’s story–God’s values, intent, goals, desires and to learn from Israel’s example–both positive and negative.

Act Three: Ministry of Jesus. Whereas Israel–as with all of us–failed to image God in the world, God entered the world in the person of the Logos (the Word). The Logos became flesh and dwelt among us. He is the true image of God; the one who fully embodies God’s intent and desire for participation in the story of God. The Incarnate Son reveals the Father. Specifically, the ministry of Jesus is the inbreaking of the eschatological kingdom of God. We see in the ministry of Jesus the reality of God’s kingdom–healing the sick, raising the dead, including the outsiders, good news for the poor.  The ministry of Jesus is an eschatological ministry that bears witness to the nature of the kingdom of God, that is, it embodies the divine intent for creation itself as the curse is reversed.

Act Four: Church.  The church–the people/community of God–is the body of Christ; it is the presence of Jesus in the world through the Spirit. It is the image of God in the world; the temple in whom God dwells to minister redemptively in the world.

Church within Scripture — The church, as described in the New Testament, lives out the ministry of Jesus.  They embody Jesus’ ministry in their own lives as disciples committed to follow Jesus. The record of the New Testament bears witness to the act of God in Christ, interprets its meaning and applies that theology to the life of the church.  The apostolic practices of the church are designed to embody and follow the ministry of Jesus. The church in the New Testament sometimes did this well (e.g., Acts 2-4) and sometimes did this rather badly (e.g, Corinth).

Church throughout History — The history of the church is an attempt to live out the story of God in Jesus through the centuries. Living out the fourth act is a difficult task, as difficult as it was for Israel to live out the intent of God for itself. Sometimes the church has done this well and sometimes badly.

Church in Contemporary Experience — The fourth act continues into the present as believers seek to live out the story of God in Jesus now. Sometimes the church does this well and sometimes badly.

Act Five: Eschaton.  The consummation is the goal of God. It is the renewal of his creation where the fullness of the Triune God might dwell with the people of God in the cosmos. It is community restored and enjoyed. It is a renewed creation in which God rests.

The Flow of the Theodrama

I imagine there are several ways to think about this theodrama.  One could think of the climax as Act Five (Eschaton).  And there is a sense in which this is true since it is the goal of the divine drama.  However, I think it is better to see Jesus the Messiah as the climax.

Creation provides the stage where divine communion is experienced.  But when humanity sought its own autonomy and pursued its own agenda, conflict entered. The drama then proceeded as an escalation of conflict even though God sought redemptive measures in Israel.  Those measures ultimately highlighted the conflict as Israel cycled through moments of rest to rebellion to punishment to deliverance and back to rest (e.g., period of the Judges; exile and restoration, etc.).

In the ministry of Jesus is both continuous with the divine engagement in the past (e.g, Jesus is a Jewish prophet in a series of prophets) but also is the arrival of the future. He is the eschatological Son of Man. He is the presence of the future where the curse is reversed in his ministry (e.g., the dead are raised). His ministry is the presence of the fullness of the future kingdom of God upon the earth.  His death is an eschatological death and not merely a physical one. His resurrection is a transformation and not merely a resuscitation. In this sense, the ministry of Jesus is the climax of the theodrama because it is also the instantiation of the eschatological goal itself.

In dramatic terms, what preceeds the climax is the rising conflict and what follows it is the emerging triumph of the climactic event till the utlimate goal is reached.  The story of the church is the unfolding of God’s love and justice to the whole of creation through the good news of Jesus. This love and justice of God triumphs in the Eschaton as God rids the earth of pain, oppression, disease and death and renews his creation as his own dwelling place. God makes everything new again.  It is creation restored but also glorified, and the story continues into eternity.

The Script?

What is the script for our participation in the theodrama?

We might say “Scripture!”  In one sense I agree with this.  But in another sense, Scripture does not provide a script for living in the 21st century.  It does not answer 21st century questions (e.g., cloning). There is no line by line direction as to how to live out the story today. It is an ancient, historical document. How can it be our script today?

The sense in which Scripture is the script is found, I think, in that to which Scripture points. It points us to the God who creates and redeems. It points us to the one who became Incarnate.  It points us to the transforming work of the Spirit.  In other words, it bears witness to the mighty acts of God, interprets those acts and applies them to the original readers of Scripture.  Scripture provides the script in the sense that it provides the record of the interpreted mighty acts of God and models how to apply them in diverse circumstances (from pre-exilic to post exilic Israel, from the church in Jerusalem to the church in Rome).

This is our script. It is the pattern of God’s activity to create us, shape us and transform us into the divine image. Scripture is not the pattern. It testifies to the pattern and guides us in understanding, interpreting and participating in God’s redemptive work in the world.

The theodrama becomes an ongoing story in which we participate.  We are trained, guided and equipped to participate in that story by the script that preceeds us and the goal that is ahead of us. We live in-between and are shaped by the past and future to live in the present.

Assuming the existence of a metanarrative story embedded within the unfolding story of God with his people in Scripture (I will not take the time to defend that assumption at this point), it seems to me that we might identify the function of Scripture within the story itself in three ways.

Three Functions

1. Scripture Witnesses to God’s Mighty Acts. Scripture describes what God has done in creation and redemption. It is a record of the mighty acts of God. It is history, but it is not mere history. It is a redemptive-historical record. The writers of Scripture are not interested in mere facts about Abraham, David or Hezekiah. Rather, they are interested in the divine-human engagement within history. They are interested in telling the story of God’s relationship with his creation and people. One function of Scripture is descriptive.

2. Scripture Interprets God’s Mighty Acts for His People. While descriptive, Scripture is never merely descriptive. It is always interpretative. Whether narrative, poetry, wisdom, apocalyptic or epistles, Scripture interprets the meaning of God’s acts. We might know from Tacitus and Suetonis that Jesus died under Pontius Pilate in Judaea, but only the narrations of the Gospels, the epistolary explanations and the Hebraic anticipations interpret the meaning and significance of that death for us. There are not “brute facts” or “isolated facts” within Scripture; every “fact” is interpreted and given significance within the story. And that significance is rooted in the movement of God within creation and redemption for the sake of his goals for his people and his cosmos.

3. Scripture Applies God’s Mighty Acts to His People. Interpretation does not stand alone as some kind of stark didactic meaning but rather is always applied to the hearers. Without application, the description and interpretation is a dead-end.  Isaiah applies the meaning of the Exodus to Israel centuries after the event itself. Paul applies the meaning of the death and resurrection of Christ to Romans divided between Jewish and Gentile house churches.  Revelation inteprets the mighty acts of God in history for the seven churches of Asia in order to encourage faithfulness and perseverance.

In summary, I would suggest that Scripture is fundamentally an interpreted record of God’s mighty acts applied to the people of God.  Essentially, Scritpure = witness + interpretation + application.

Example Text: Ephesians 3:2-6

The text reads:

Surely you have heard about the administration of God’s grace that was given to me for you, that is, the mystery made known to me by revelation, as I have already written briefly. In reading this, then, you will be able to understand my insight into the mystery of Christ, which was not made known to men in other generations as it has now been revealed by the Spirit to God’s holy apostles and prophets. This mystery is that through the gospel the Gentiles are heirs together with Israel, members together of one body, and sharers together in the promise in Christ Jesus.

This is a theologically weighty text, but my interest is the specific function Paul assigns to his epistle.  What is the function of Ephesians, according to Paul?

Note some particulars.

• Paul has received insight (understanding) into the mystery of Christ.
• The mystery of Christ is the work of God in Christ through the Spirit to which Paul has just testified in Ephesians 1-2.
• This has been revealed to him (and others–apostles and prophets) by the Spirit.
• He writes so that the Ephesians might understanding his insight into that mystery.
• He identifies, at least in part, the mystery as the fellowship of the gospel in Christ Jesus.
• His letter applies this work of God–the creation of one body–to the racial, cultural and epochal distinctions between Jews and Gentiles for the sake of uniting the body of Christ in communal practice rather than simply in theological theory.

Ephesians, as one example, epitomizes the function of Scripture.  Paul, gifted by the Spirit and given revelation about what God has done in Christ, writes to share his understanding of the mystery of Christ with fellow-belivers. Paul describes (witnesses to) the work of God in Christ through the Spirit in Ephesians 1-3, that is, the election of the Father, the atoning work of Jesus and the seal of the Spirit. This is the mighty act of the Triune God for our redemption. Paul interprets the meaning of this work for his readers, that is, how the mystery breaks down racial, cultural and epochal distinctions between human beings. In Ephesians 4-6 he applies the meaning of God’s mighty acts by encouraging (using a substantial number of imperatives which are absent except for one [2:11] in chapters 1-3) conformation to the image of God in Christ.

Ephesians is, of course, a letter.  Other genres have a similar function though their literary method differs. So, for example, the Exodus narrative records the mighty act of God as history but also interprets and applies the meaning of the Exodus event through the narrative genre (utilizing sub-genres along the way such as the hymn of Exodus 15). Or, the Gospels tell the story of Jesus through narrative while utilizing various forms (miracle stories, parables, passion narrative) to interpret and apply the meaning of the mighty act of God in Jesus.

Our Theological-Hermeneutical Task

Scripture, therefore, may be said to be the practical application of theology (the mystery of Christ) to specific situations (whether Ephesus, Corinth, Seven Churches of Asia, etc.).  Scripture is applied theology.

Through Scripture’s own application of the mystery of God to those different situations we “see” (discern) the theology itself–we come to understand the mystery of Christ. Now, as disciples of Jesus, we take that same theology and apply it to our situations–whether in Russia, Singapore or Nashville.

In effect, what we really do is not so much apply Scripture (the bare text) but apply the theology (the mystery) that Scripture teaches. The theological-hermeneutical task, then, is not to reproduce the “stuff” of Scripture or merely repeat Scripture, but to know the mystery of Christ (the mighty acts of God), understand the meaning of that mystery (theology), and apply its meaning to the new contexts in which we minister as disciples of Jesus.

In pursuing this task, however, our knowledge of the mystery of Christ is derivative. We do not know it “by revelation” in the same sense in which Paul claims to have that knowledge by revelation. Rather, our knowledge of the mystery of Christ is derived from and guided by Scripture–the initial and foundational interpretation of the mystery to which we have access. We read Paul, for example, and through understanding his insight into the mystery of Christ, we apply the mystery in our contexts.

Thus, the task of “restoration” is not the mere reproduction of the historic practices of the early church–to simply do what the early churchd did–but the reapplication of its theology in a new setting. The theological-hermeneutical task is the recontexualization of the mystery of Christ in the contemporary world.  Our task is to bear witness to, interpret and apply the meaning of what God has done. Scripture models this for us and guides in our contemporary task.

Scripture comes to us as human literature. It is written by humans for humans in human language. Whatever it communicates, then, it communicates through the medium of finite, limiting, bounded human language. In this context, I raise only three points in this post. Much more, of course, could be said, but these points are significant for future posts on the hermeneutical task.

Analogous Knowledge of God

We are not reading God-speech but reading what God says to us through human language. God has accomodated himself to the limits of human language in talking about himself in much the same way that we accomodate ourselves to three year olds–but with an infinite difference, of course. 

This means that Scripture participates in analogous rather than univocal or equivocal language about God. When we say “God is love,” we do not understand “love” with a one-to-one correspondance to the mind of God. The divine understanding of love is far beyond the limitations of our finitude. Our language about God is not univocal–it is not equivalent to what God thinks; we don’t comprehend “love” in the depth that God himself does.  But neither is our language about God equivocal so that there is no connection between our knowledge and God’s knowledge. An equivocal knowledge of God would be wholly experientially-based rather than cognitive and it disconnects us from knowing anything about God.

Shooting the horns of the dilemma–and this is a common tactic in both Thomist and Reformed theology, our knowledge of God is analogous.  We are not devoid of knowledge of God as if we can only existentially experience him (equivocal) but neither is our knowledge equivalent to God’s knowledge of himself (univocal).  Instead, our knowledge of God is historically conditioned but authentically communicative. We know about God by his entrance into history and his accomodative communication with us. We know what love is by God’s act in Jesus (entrance into history) and his intepretation of that act in human language suited to our finite capacities (Scripture). This means that our cognitive knowledge about God is not only shaped by historical conditionedness but is located within the framework of the narrative of God’s history with human beings as recorded in Scripture.

One significant implication of this point is that we should not expect rational precision in our understanding of God when we read Scripture. Analogy does not have the function of complete, exact and correspondant communication. Instead, it has a preformative function. It gives enough understanding to enable performance, that is, to live God’s intent for us and participate in the drama. The goal is not knowledge per se, but embodiment. The goal is not propositional communication per se, but participation in the story of God so that we become the images (icons) of God in the world. Exactitude or precision becomes a red herring and diverts us from the real goal of analogous understanding–to become what God intended us to be as his created images in creation.

Human Hermeneutics

What we read we must read according to the standards of human communication, not God-speech. We humans cannot read God-speech but we can read God’s communication to us through human words. Consquently, we must read the Bible as is–as it is given to us, as it presents itself to us.

This entails that we read the text within the frame of the literary genre in which it is communicated.  This means that we cannot impose on the text a meaning that is not suitable, contextual or appropriate to the genre, language and context–literary, historical and cultural–in which the text appears.

Consequently, the faithful reading of Scripture means that we read it as is. We read it according to the specific genre in which the text is offered. We read Psalms as poetry, Chronicles as history, Revelation as apocalyptic, Paul’s epistles as letters, etc. The importance of this point lies not only in good exegesis, but it is also lies in the tendency to override the specific genre with a broader one. Some turn a letter into a legal brief, a historical narrative into a legal precedent, or an apocalyptic text into a legal reading of history (as in the historical-continuous interpretation offered by John T. Hinds in the Gospel Advocate commentary).

For example, if we adopt a constitutional model for the New Testament, we not only impose a foreign literary and legal genre upon the text in an ahistorical fashion but we override the actual genre in which the books of the New Testament are given to us and thereby undermine the intent of the text. The constitutional reading then forces texts to read differently than they were intended to be read by the authors themselves. This, in effect, undermines the authority of the text because it substitutes a foreign literary model for the ones which the New Testament documents actually are! It forces the text to function in a way and to say something that they were never intended to do or say.

Metanarrative Unity

If the humanity of Scripture is visible in its language, genre, authors, etc., the word of God is visible in the unity of the metanarrative. This unity must not dictate to the humanity of Scripture (e.g., its own phenomenological diversity) or override the situatedness of Scripture (e.g., the variety of genre) since this is the reality of Scripture’s givenness.

Yet, the unity is present in the witness to the movement of the story of God through the unfolding history of God with humanity. The unity of Scripture is rooted in the identity of God, the divine goal/intent for creation and the mode of embodying/investing that identity in the people of God.

I call this unity the metanarrative of Scripture. It is not meta in the sense that it is beyond or above Scripture, but it is meta in the sense that it is embedded, assumed and explored throughout the story told in the various genres of the text in their various redemptive-historical settings (e.g., patriarchs sojourning, Israel in Egypt, Israel in Palestine, Israel in exile, letters to missional communities in Galatia, etc.).

This unity is not a temple constructed out of isolated data within the text. Rather, the text itself is the temple to be explored, imbibed, and ultimately embodied in our own stories as we learn to participate in the story of God. The metanarrative–as witnessed to, interpreted and applied within the text of Scripture–becomes our narrative.

The divine message of Scripture is its witness to the mighty acts of God, the interpretation of those acts and the application of their meaning to humans seeking to participate in the story of God.   (More on this point in my next post in this series.)

It almost never fails. Every time I raise the question of “Why me?” I hear the kind, mild and well-intentioned rebuke that perhaps I should ask the question “Why not me?”

I understand the point–I think. Of course, why should it not be my child that dies? Why should it not be my wife that dies? Did my son and my wife deserve to live while others do not? Of course not! My son no more deserved to live than any other child (including thousands in China) nor does my wife deserve to live any more than anyone else’s spouse (including thousands in Myanmar). In that sense “why not me?” is a good question as it reminds me that my family has no privileged standing in this chaotic world. It forces a certain humility upon me which I often need.

But “why did my son die” (etc.) is a totally different question and the two are not mutually exclusive. This question asks why did my son die while others lived. It asks why was my son the 1 in 100,000 births with his genetic condition. It asks why is my wife a statistic where she is the 1 in 10,000 who dies ten days after her back surgery.

“Why not me?” does not undermine the intensity or legitimacy of the question “Why me?” or “Why my son?” or “Why my wife?” That question is not about what anyone deserves or does not deserve; it is not about the assumption of privileged position. Quite the contrary–given the reality of the situation, the question seeks the meaning of the event. “Why this?” “Why now?” “Why me?” are questions about meaning, purpose and significance.

Sometimes I feel some want to deligitimize the question “Why?”  I have even heard people gently (sometimes not so gently) hushed in the midst of their grief or, worse, judged for asking the question as if the question is an arrogant and distrustful one. Rather, they are told to ask “why not me?”–so I have heard people told and I myself have been advised. Supposedly, it is a more noble and faithful response to suffering.

In my experience this suffocates the sufferer. It covers the sufferer with guilt for feeling the question and wanting to throw it in God’s face or simply express it to other believers. Instead of asking “why not me” within the story of Scripture, faithful lamenters in Scripture asked “why this?”. They wanted to know the purpose and meaning of their suffering. The question was certainly a venting, but I think it was more.  It touched the deepest desire of a sufferer, that is, to understand and “make sense” of what is happening. It is a question that belongs to faithful lament. Listen to some of their questions.

Psalm 10:1, Why, O LORD, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
Psalm 42:9, I say to God, my rock, “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?”
Psalm 44:23-24, Rouse yourself! Why do you sleep, O Lord? Awake, do not cast us off forever! Why do you hide your face? Why do you forget our affliction and oppression?
Psalm 74:1, O God, why do you cast us off forever? Why does your anger smoke against the sheep of your pasture?
Psalm 88:14, O LORD, why do you cast me off? Why do you hide your face from me?
Job 3:20, Why is light given to one in misery, and life to the bitter in soul,
Job 7:20, If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of humanity? Why have you made me your target? Why have I become a burden to you?
Job 10:18, Why did you bring me forth from the womb? Would that I had died before any eye had seen me,
Job 13:24, Why do you hide your face, and count me as your enemy?
Ex. 5:22,Then Moses turned again to the LORD and said, “O LORD, why have you mistreated this people? Why did you ever send me?
Judges 21:3,They said, “O LORD, the God of Israel, why has it come to pass that today there should be one tribe lacking in Israel?”
Isaiah 63:17, Why, O LORD, do you make us stray from your ways and harden our heart, so that we do not fear you? Turn back for the sake of your servants, for the sake of the tribes that are your heritage.
Jeremiah 5:19, And when your people say, “Why has the LORD our God done all these things to us?” you shall say to them, “As you have forsaken me and served foreign gods in your land, so you shall serve strangers in a land that is not yours.”
Jeremiah 14:19, Have you completely rejected Judah? Does your heart loathe Zion? Why have you struck us down so that there is no healing for us? We look for peace, but find no good; for a time of healing, but there is terror instead.
Lamentations 5:20, Why have you forgotten us completely? Why have you forsaken us these many days?

The question “why” presumes that God has his reasons and purposes. I believe that; otherwise, I would be forced to believe that the deaths in my life are purely arbitrary (and thus subject to meaninglessness) or they are the chaotic results of a disinterested, perhaps apathetic, God who does not get his hands dirty in his own creation.

I prayed for the health of my wife; we prayed for a successful surgery and recovery; we prayed that she might be able to bear children to full term (we had already lost one in a miscarriage). Barbara and I prayed for a healthy child; we prayed that he would grow into a leader among God’s people.

Now here’s my problem. When I petitioned God for those healthy and seemingly “within the will of God” kind of outcomes, what did God do or say to me? Did he say, “Well, John Mark, I would like to do that for you but I just don’t do that kind of stuff. We will have to see how it all turns out. We’ll hope for the best.” Or, did he say, “Well, John Mark, I will do what I can and work for that goal because I also think it would be great, but there are some things just outside of my control.” Or, did he say, “No.”

No? How could God say “No”? Is this an arbitrary roll of the dice or was my number was just up? Is it the apathy of a God who really does not get his hands dirty in the details of life? Or, is this a purposeful, meaningful and mysterious answer?

I prefer the purposeful, meaningful and mysterious answer. The “No” is not arbitrary but a reflection of divine wisdom and purpose. “John Mark,” God might be saying, “this is gonna hurt, but I have a purpose in this. I know it won’t make sense to you, and I know it will be painful, and you might even deny there could ever be any purpose worth the price, but I have a special interest in this matter. I am doing something beyond your imagination–something you would not believe if I told you. John Mark, my beloved, trust me on this one.”

Why do I prefer that answer? Well, it gives meaning to my suffering even though I don’t know what that meaning is. But, more importantly, I think it is consistent with the story we have been given. As God deals with individuals and communities in his story, he deals with them out his purposes and invests meaning in their lives. He actively engages their stories and integrates them into his story.

Why did these tragic events happen to me? I don’t know, but I keep asking, exploring and searching. In this I am following faithful lamenters and exemplars in Scripture. In this I follow Jesus himself who cried “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Given his cry, I think I can ask the same question with full legitimacy!

Why shouldn’t it happen to me? There is no reason it should not–I have no privileged position in the universe; nothing in my life–including my own life–can make any claim on God. Why did it happen to me? I don’t know but I trust God has his reasons. And I trust God–though I am often frustrated with him. I wish I knew the reasons, but I doubt if it would lessen the pain.  There is just too much that I don’t understand and if God explained it to me I would probably end up as confused as a three-year old to whom a Lipscomb Physics professor is trying to explain quantum mechanics.

In the end, I don’t really need to know the reasons why; I don’t really need to understand the divine goals in each specific situation.  I want to know them but I don’t need to know them for the purposes God has in mind for his creation, that is, communion with him and with others. In the end, it is not about rationalizations or deductions or inductions or syllogisms.  In the end, it is about faith, about trust. It is about communion, about relationship.