John Mark Hicks

[Note: I am attempting to keep these SBD installments under 2000 words each, but that is–of course–quite inadequate for the topics covered. Consequently, these contributions are more programmatic than they are explanatory or defenses of the positions stated. You may access the whole series at my Serial page.]

The divine community enjoys communion with the created community as God rejoices over and rests within the creation that reveals the glory of God.

A Triune, Sovereign and Gracious Act

The Triune community creates the human community and places them within the creation. The Father is the fountainhead and origin of creation. The cosmos originated with the Father, but it came into being through the agency of the Son (1 Corinthians 8:6) as the wisdom and principle of creation (Proverbs 8). The Spirit is the dynamic breath of God who gives and preserves life within the creation. The Father created through the Son by the power of the Spirit.

The act of creation testifies to the “infinite qualitative difference” between the Creator and the creation; creation ratifies God’s transcendence and sovereignty. Psalm 33, for example, moves from creation to sovereignty with theological ease. God created what was intended; nothing frustrated the divine purpose.

The sovereign act of creation testifies to God’s aseity. This means that God is God before and without the creation. God is not dependent upon anything outside of the divine life itself. The divine community is sufficient in itself; it is full and rich without anything or anyone else. Besides God there is nothing else before God created. This excludes any kind of metaphysical dualism, panentheism or pantheism.

The act of creation testifies to the love of God; it was a gracious, free act. God was not compelled by some inner necessity to create as if some hole had to be filled in the divine life or for that God created so that God might become fully God. God was not lonely; the Triune God has lived in eternal communion. Rather, God freely chose to create. That gracious act was one of self-giving–not by compulsion or grudgingly.

To Enjoy and Develop

The divine community created a human community within the creation. Why did God create? The root answer is not power or ego, but love. While sovereign power enabled creation, love moved it. While God created for glory, God experiences this glory as the divine community delights in the creation and the fulfillment of God’s telos. The glory of God is not ego-driven but moved by love for the other. God is glorified through communion with the creation.

This movement is rooted in God’s own ontology. God subsits in the communion of the Father, Son and Spirit; God is being-in-relation. This mutual indwelling of the divine life is the fullness of divine communion. God created to share this communion—this mutual indwelling—with others. The act of creation was other-centered; the divine community chose others rather than the satus quo of its own communion.

The prayer of Jesus in John 17:20-26 glories in the love the Father has for the Son, but the goal of this love, though mutual, is not self-focused. On the contrary, the telos of God’s self-revelation is to share the mutual love between the Father and Son with the creation. God draws humanity into the orbit of the Triune love so that we might participate and share in the divine communion which existed before the world began.

This is God’s joy. As the story constantly reveals, God delights in the communion of those created by his power for the sake of love. Moreover, God delights in the creation itself. Psalm 104 describes God’s care and joy for the creation (inclusive of animals as well as the stars). God rejoices over the works of creation and the earth is full of God’s faithful love.

God did not create the cosmos in order to annihilate it, but created it to live within it—to dwell within the creation. Scripture often describes the creation with architectural imagery—the creation is a divine temple in which God lives even though it cannot contain the fullness of divine presence. The earth was created as the temple of the Lord in which God would dwell in peace, joy and community. This is a significant theological trajectory in Scripture.

When God had finished six days of creating, God rested within it. The creation became God’s “resting place” (Isaiah 66:1). The creation—filled with shalom—is the divine sanctuary in which God rested. The divine Sabbath rest is not merely about cessation from work but about enjoying what was created. The Sabbath rest—both divine and human Sabbaths—are the experience of communion, joy and peace. God not only rests from creating but also rests within and with the creation. God invites the creation—both human and animal—to share the divine rest.

The creation is good but not perfect. The goodness of creation means that that it fits what God intended–it is shalom-filled, serves the divine purpose and there is no inherent evil within in (Genesis 1). But this is not a Platonic perfection that resists change. On the contrary, God created something that would grow and develop, that would mature, adapt and change. The creation was intended to develop into the fullness of the future—to become all it could be. The creation is only the starting point; it was not the goal. The creation, under God’s sovereign care and in partnership with humanity, would emerge, grow and develop till the divine telos was reached. God created something dynamic rather than static.

To Reveal

The heavens declare the glory of God (Psalm 19:1). What God created and how God sovereignly rules the creation proclaims the glory of the divine community.

Creation is God’s own self-disclosure but it is not full disclosure. The creation cannot enclose the fullness of God’s own life but it does testify to it. Creation is an act of revelation. Some call this “general revelation” because it is generally available to all humanity while others call it a “natural knowledge” of God because this knowledge comes through the natural constitution of things.

As creatures living in a creation generated and indwelt by a Creator there is an innate awareness of a presence that transcends us; ther is an awareness of the infinite within our finitude. A divine presence—as if fingerprints on the creation—is immanent within the created reality. This is not so much a “natural theology” as a “creation theology.” God is manifest within the creation (Romans 1:19-20). Humans have a pre-reflective (Rahner) or immediate (Van Til) knowledge of God; this intuitive knowledge of God is the sense of divinity (Calvin’s sensus divinitas) within every human being. It is an openness to transcendence (Pannenberg). God created a world in which humans would know the divine, where they would seek beyond themselves for something to ground their existence and give meaning to it. The divine is revealed rather than obscured.

This revelatory work of God is not simply a past act of creation. Rather, God is immanently at work in the world to seek a people and acts within creation and history to evoke a response. Paul’s sermon in Acts 17:22-31 describes God as the creator and ongoing giver of life as well as the founder and ruler of nations. The divine purpose creates an environment in which humans will seek, grope after and find God. Human existence and history have a divine telos. The one in whom we live and move and have our being is the one who reveals life through creation and history.

God has left a witness not only in creation but in history as well. Consequently, we listen for God’s work in history as part of his witness to us. This entails a certain amount of openness to how other religions speak the truth about God in the feeble, fallible manner of human reason, experience and culture. Since there is an immediate awareness of God within the creation and God is active in human history, an openness to a history of divine disclosure within the history of religions is appropriate despite the degenerative dimensions of the human condition that distort God’s revelation.

Further, the goodness of creation entails a certain openness to the human sciences of anthropology, psychology and sociology as avenues of insight into the human psyche and an openness to science as a divine gift for understanding and caring for the creation. This divine presence within human nature, religions, disciplines and history is called “common grace” by Reformed theologians because it recognizes these as moments of revelatory grace whereby God leaves a witness within the creation.

But that witness is not left only to creation and history as a process of divine providence and sovereign care. More particularly, God entered history in the person of Jesus, the crucified and raised one, as a witness of and means to the divine telos. He is the good news of God. This divine revelation is specific, historic, and personal—sometimes called “special revelation.” This revelation in Jesus is the exegesis of God whereby God gives us an interpretative lens through which to see the divine telos more clearly, more decisively and more personally. God has a “Word” (Logos)  for humanity that transcends the creation even as it given within the creation as a part of the creation. Paul, in Acts 17:30-31, appealed to the resurrection of Jesus as evidence of God’s enagament with the creation.

So What?

The ground of worship is creation (Psalm 148:5; Revelation 4:11). We worship the Creator because the one who created is infinitely and qualitatively different from us. Creation evokes doxology because of the goodness and grace—not merely the power—revealed by God’s act. We worship because we are part of the creation rather than the Creator ourselves. The doctrine of creation defends against all forms of idolatry—nothing or no one can stand in the place of the Creator.

Since God is ontologically communal, being-in-relation, his creative act is relational in character. God creates to be-in-relation rather than simply to put omnipotence on display. God desires worship not because of some egocentricity but because of the desire to be-in-relation as God experiences mutual joy with the worshippers in the moment of worship. God intends to commune with his creation rather than subjugate it as tyrant or annihilate it as destroyer.

The creation is a divine dwelling-place; it is God’s sanctuary. The creation, of course, is not God, but the creation is valued, loved and enjoyed by God. The divine intent is to dwell among humanity within the creation. This entails a deep ecological theology whereby human beings value, love and enjoy the creation just as God does. It also entails a strong sense of immanence—not panentheism or pantheism—whereby God reveals himself through the birds, the trees, the sunlight and other “messengers” (Psalm 104) of creation. God conveys his presence through the sacrament of creation itself.

Matter—the created reality—flows from the hand of God. Materiality is good, not evil. It is not an inherently inferior mode of being for creatures. In fact, it is the creaturely mode of being itself. God created matter, enfleshed our spirits, incarnated himself in matter (flesh), and intends to redeem matter (resurrection of the body and the renewal of creation). God intended the created world—the material world—to be inhabited (Isaiah 45:18) and filled. His purpose has not changed.

The goodness of creation has significant implications for ethics. As creatures who are created to represent and imitate the Creator, what God created expresses the divine intent and norms human behavior. The ethical value of creation is not only about ecology, but also about sexuality, family, stewardship (divine ownership and human management of resources), work and rest, and vocation among many other concerns.

Conclusion

Creation is not only the first act of divine revelation; it is the beginning of the story. As far as the narrative of Scripture is concerned, creation is where our story begins. It identifies us, defines us and invites us to participate in God’s story as all creation moves toward the divine telos. Our first identity is creaturehood and our mode of being is creatureliness. We are not God; the Creator is.

Note: This is the second of six small group studies that are coordinated with a sermon series by Dean Barham, the preaching minister at the Woodmont Family of God. Eventually, his sermons will be available here. The first small group study lesson is here.

Free From Greed, Free to Share
1 Timothy 6:2b-19

Free From Greed

There are those who love money so much that they think “godliness is a means to financial gain,” but “godliness with contentment is great gain.” Greed distorts what is really important; it perverts the pursuit of godliness into a financial adventure. The love of money corrupts everything it touches.

The love of money—the idolatry of money—is expressed in a desire to “get rich” which is the flip side of a lack of contentment. “Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income” (Ecclesiastes 5:10).

The pursuit of wealth without contentment results in “many griefs” because that agenda is a “trap” that leads to “ruin and destruction.” It blinds and ensnares us. Wealth without contentment is sinking sand whereas generosity is a “firm foundation.”

Free to Share

The freedom to share is nurtured by the development of a character that pursues “righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness.” Formed by these virtues disciples are “generous and willing to share.”

The pursuit of wealth without sharing is arrogance and trusts wealth rather than God. Stinginess, the inability to share, indicates stunted spiritual growth; it is ungodliness—to be unlike God himself.

The wealthy are commanded “to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.” To “do good” is a Jewish expression for benevolence as in, for example, James 4:17: “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.” The heart of the wealthy is tested by whether it shares or not, whether it can be generous like God.

Godliness the Key

Godliness—living as God’s partner in the present age—frees us from greed so that we are free to share. This freedom is the “treasure” that offers a “firm foundation for the coming age.” This “treasure” enables us to “take hold of the life that is truly life.”

Contentment, character and charitableness are intimately woven together in the freedom of godliness. Dissatisfaction, arrogance and miserliness are intimately woven together in the snare of greed.

Greed enslaves but godliness liberates, and when godliness liberates, we become generous people just as God himself is generous with us in providing “us with everything for our enjoyment.”

Questions for Discussion

1. What are some of the characteristics of those who use godliness for “financial gain”? What are some of the characteristics of a godly person? What does this text say about who God is?
2. Given 1 Timothy 6:17-19, what “sermon” would you share with the “rich”? Do you sense a measure of discomfort with that sermon? Why?
3. Why is the pursuit of wealth a snare? What makes it a snare? Is there a pursuit of wealth that is not a snare? Why do you think so? Why are human beings so susceptible to this snare?
4. How do we know whether we are “loving money” or not? What “tests” or “questions” can we apply to ourselves to discern this in our character?
5. What does contentment mean? What does it look like in our lives?
6. As wealthy Americans, do we find ourselves defensive when it comes to how we use our wealth? If so, why?

The Magnificat
“My Soul Magnifies the Lord”

Luke 1:46-55

This song has been used by the church, almost daily, since the late fourth century. It has been sung, prayed and preached for centuries. In the text of Luke, it is one of three songs. The other two are by Elizabeth (1:42-45) and Zechariah (1:68-79). Mary’s song rests between them and is thereby highlighted.

For those interested in a rather detailed exegesis of the Magnificat, see the piece by Curtis A. Jahn. The appendix of the article has a wonderful chart which connects the language of the Magnificat with praise texts in the Hebrew Bible.

Mary praises God for his gracious kindness toward her (Luke 1:46-49).

Mary magnifies (exalts) the Lord and rejoices (delights) in God her Savior. This comes from deep within her—her soul, her spirit. Her praise and delight are rooted in God’s “look” toward her; he has been “mindful” of her. Mary was lovingly and affectionately chosen despite her humble, impoverished status. She was no daughter of a king, but she will now be the mother of one.

Hearing Elizabeth’s “blessing” pronouncement, Mary prophetically accepts that every generation will called her “blessed.” But her blessedness is not due to something within her. Her blessedness is the Lord’s doing. She is blessed by what the Lord does, and as a result she receives the title “blessed” when previously she was “humble.” Mary then ends this stanza the way it began–the name of God “holy” (transcendent, awesome, amazing, beyond our imagination; cf. Psalm 99) just as she began her song “magnifying” (making God great) the Lord.

Questions to Consider: What is the root of Mary’s praise? How does she see herself before and after God’s mighty act for her? How does this model our own acceptance of God’s mighty acts for us?

Mary recognizes that that God’s mercy extends beyond her (Luke 1:50-53).

Mary begins the second stanza with a praise and testimony to God’s mercy. Just as generations will call her blessed because of God’s mercy, in the same way that mercy will envelope generations to come as they trust (revered) God as Mary trusted God. Mercy is what God demonstrates by his actions in verses 51-53.

What God did in exalting Mary to a blessed state is nothing new; it is the pattern of God’s redemptive work throughout history (for example, Mary uses language reminiscent of Hannah in 1 Samuel 2). This is what God does in history: he performs mighty deeds for the humble and hungry as he topples the arrogant, powerful and wealthy.

God reverses the established order of this broken world. He brings good news to the poor and oppressed; this is the gospel. God does the unexpected—and salvation itself is unexpected. It is divine grace.

Questions to Consider: What do you learn about God from reading these few lines? How is his mercy manifested? How does his mercy continue throughout the generations and in your life?

Mary testifies that God keeps his promise of mercy to Israel (Luke 1:54-55).

The motherhood of Mary is the fulfillment God’s promise to the patriarchs, the fathers of Israel. God, literally, has “taken hold of” or “embraced his servant Israel.” God has loved his people by keeping his promise through the birth of Jesus.

This is itself an act of mercy. God has remembered his mercy. The mercy that overthrows the arrogant and powerful is the mercy he now extends “to Abraham and his descendents forever.” This mercy God will continually extend and display throughout the generations to come.

Questions to Consider: What experience in your own life comes to mind when you think about God “remembering mercy”? Where in your life have you felt the embrace of God’s love for you? Last week I posted a testimony about a recent experience of God’s mercy in my life.

Note: I have previously posted about the Magnificat but this one is designed for small group discussion.

A sermon based on this text is available at the Sycamore View Church of Christ website.  Look for my lesson under May 10, 2009.

A few introductory comments on the definition and function of theology……

Systematic Biblical Doctrine

That’s the title of the course I will teach this Maymester at the undergraduate level for Lipscomb University. I don’t particularly like it. Here’s why.

“Doctrine” rings hollow at best for most students (especially at the undergraduate level) and creates hostile suspicion for many. The word has a polemical ring in many ears such that it conjures up images of dueling antagonists engaged in heated debate where the loser goes to Hell. “Doctrinal error,” as the saying goes, “places one in danger of judgment,” right?

“Systematic” sounds, well, too systematic. It sounds like we are going to put the Bible into its “proper” order–an order that we impose through a preconcevived “system” (an order perhaps borrowed from some philosophical construct, cultural model or a previous scholasticism). This prioritizes “system” over text; it postulates an “order” to which the text must conform. This is onto-theology so that theology is shaped by a prior commitment to an ontology. Theology then becomes a form of philosophical anthropology, which means it is not theology at all but “anthropology in a loud voice” (so Barth’s critique of classic liberalism). It will override the text.

So, “Systematic Biblical Doctrine” sounds like a code word for imposing my system upon the biblical text in order to draw boundaries that define the “right” group. Consequently, I don’t like it. It is not what I think theology should do.

Rather, I proceed with a more narrative approach where theology is the exploration of the biblical plot–to trace the redemptive-historical work of God through Creation, Fall, Israel, Christ and Church into the Eschaton. It follows the plot line. Theology tells the story and seeks to absorb the contemporary world into the plot of the story.

Is there something systematic about theology? Well, of course. There is an order. But, it seems to me, that order is best understood as redemptive-historical plot, or drama, or story, or narrative. The order is not that of a “system” or a philosophical/metaphysical grid, but the order of a narrative plot in which we live or a drama that we perform.

The Function of Doctrine (Theology)

What image does “doctrine” evoke in your mind? Answers would probably range from meaningless discussions of unfruitful minutia of rationalistic projections by ivory-tower theologians to exciting visions of polemical engagements over distinctive points of doctrine. Both of these exercises could be called “doctrinal,” but both leave a bad taste in the mouth of contemporary Christians who are impatient with the impractical musings of theologians and fed up with the backbiting, abusive and sectarian character of heated exchanges.

Many are searching for something more significant. They yearn for pragmatic value instead of the perplexity of intellectual gymnastics and the haughtiness of intramural Christian squabbles. Students, like many church members, are skittish, suspicious and usually disheartened by any “doctrinal” discussion.

Homiletics illustrates the problem. Preaching, it is said, ought to be life-oriented, faith-building and practical. Doctrinal preaching is out of style and ineffective. Topical preaching is generally snubbed because, in part, it is usually doctrinal preaching, and it is much easier to sneak one’s doctrinal position into a series of texts in topical preaching than when expounding a particular text. Preaching is thought more effective if it is framed psychologically or in story or in exposition, but never “doctrinal”.

This rejection of doctrinal preaching is due in large measure to a reaction to a fundamentalist emphasis on polemics. There preaching generally focuses on peripheral issues which are unconnected with life. This is largely driven by a demand for “distinctive” preaching. What can you preach that a Baptist cannot? Or, what can a Baptist fundamentalist preacher say that distinguishes him from a Methodist? Thus, doctrinal preaching degenerates into battles over the Bible and skirmishes over distinctives or theological systems. A steady diet of such preaching does not strike at the heart of the central aspects of Christianity. As a result, controversy is highlighted without the illumination of Christianity’s center, the weightier matters.

On the other hand, sermons shaped by inductive storytelling or pop psychology have the tendency to offer secular advice in religious clothing. They remain superficial and fail to probe the deeper resources of meaning and application within the Christian faith (that is, they fail to be “doctrinal”). While this perspective is driven by the nausea of the popular culture with doctrinal preaching, without doctrine there is no substance. Without reflection on the Christian faith, there is no grounding in the story of God. This kind of preaching may produce a relatively healthy secular psychology, but it will foster a weak and immature faith; a faith easily tempted and seduced by the forces of humanism, materialism and pluralism in our culture. It will be a faith that adopts the values of its culture rather than challenging them.

Ellen T. Charry has argued that the function of Christian Doctrine is aretegenic, that is, it is “conducive to virtue” or it generates a virtuous life (By the Renewing of Your Minds [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977], p. 19). The purpose of Christian doctrine is character formation, spiritual formation. Theology should give the people of God an identity (a sense of calling and status) and equip them with normative ideas and values that shape them into the image of Christ. The function of Christian doctrine is practical—to build a community which images God. Thus, the goal is neither polemical victory (to glory in being “right” on every issue) nor theological ingenuity (to glory in a “new” idea). It is pragmatic. Christian doctrine should serve God’s intent to seek a people that share his values and holiness in communion with him.

Theology is neither metaphysical speculation nor polemical exchange, but the applied story of God toward the goal of character formation—to be formed into the image of Christ. As Paul told Titus, if we will teach Christian doctrine (stress the theology of Titus 3:3-7), then the Christian community will be full of good works (Titus 3:8). This is the kind of “teaching” that is “good and profitable.” A community is shaped by its doctrine; it will become what its doctrine is. Teachers and preachers pay heed. Doctrine must be aretegenic if it is to be biblical.

What theology does Paul have in mind? He summarizes it in Titus 3:3-7. If Titus would have a vibrant community of faith, he should stress this: (1) the triune work of God—the Father who loved us through Jesus the Son and renewed us through the Holy Spirit; (2) our utter fallenness and thus the need for redemption; (3) the divine initiative for our salvation, the motive that moved the divine initiative, and the divine work which accomplished it; (4) the nature and means of our salvation as our redemption is not only forgiveness by the grace of Jesus Christ but transformation by the power of the Spiorit; and (5) the creation of a community of believers with eschatological hope.

Stress these things, Paul told Titus, and the people of God will be dedicated to good works (transformed living in service to others). They will avoid foolish controversies and quarrels about the law (polemics will not be their focus). They will be God’s people who image Christ in a fallen world; they will be a people who live according to the age to come rather than fashioned by this present evil age.

Significance of Doctrine

My call in this class is to a renewed appreciation for the fact that doctrine is at the heart of our faith–our faith involves theological (worldview, metanarrative) commitments and our ethics are pregnant with theological meaning and grounding. Our communal reflection and teaching must reflect these theological or doctrinal commitments or our people will have no grounding or understanding of the deep roots of their faith. We must develop within our people the ability to “do theology,” to think critically about their faith in relation to their life, so that their lives might reflect the commitments of their faith.

This kind of reflection is necessary if we are to perform the story, that is, live within the story of God. If we do not provide that heart and push for that reflection, then another “heart” will drive our lives and decisions. Instead of participating in God’s drama, believers will, by default, adopt the cultural mores which subtly shape them. Without reflection on the narrative of God’s story competing narratives will shape us. Without critical reflection on our faith, we naturally adopt a faith (worldview, metanarrative) which is comfortable and suitable to the age in which we live. Critical reflection demands that we retune our ears instead of having them scratched by contemporary culture.

More specifically, I offer this definition of “Christian Doctrine”: “Christian doctrine is pouring God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ into our human experience so that we might embody the life of Jesus in the present.”  I attempt to do this comprehensively (whole of Scripture–both Hebrew and Greek–applied to the whole of life), coherently (seeking the integrative and consistent character of God’s story throughout redemptive history but without straggling the diversity of that story by some strait-jacket harmonizing technique), contextually (we are situated, concrete humans living in specific cultural contexts), Christologically (the culmination of God’s revelation through creation and Israel is Jesus the Christ, the eschatological Son of Man breaking into the present from the future), and as calling (vocationally; missional vocation; the mission of God is to dwell with humanity within the creation and to fill the creation with divine glory). This is faith seeking understanding. Theology asks how our faith relates to our human experience; and in particular, how should we live in the light of what God has done in Jesus.

Theology, then, is intended to be critical; it is self-reflection. It is a search for understanding–to understand the story of God in Israel and, ultimately, in Christ. This critical reflection is necessary to ensure that our praxis is faithful to God’s narrative. Theology is the self-conscious effort to interpret reality through the lens of God’s self-revelation in Christ given to us in Scripture.

Christian Doctrine as Story

Theology is a narrative enterprise as it seeks to tell the story of God, explains its meaning and apply its principles to the contemporary world. Theology is fundamentally a secondary language in which the church speaks, but a necessary one. The power of its language (including its propositions) is drawn from the power of the story as it is given to us in Scripture. Scripture is the first order; it is the norm. Theology is second order; it attempts to provide a coherent and practical model of the first for a contemporary audience by way of application. It is presumptive to think that our model is an exact duplicate of the first. Our model does not bear the perfections of the first. Our model does not have the first-hand character of the first as a witness to the story. Our model is a retelling of the story; the first is the story.

In other words, as Stan Grenz notes, our model is not a replica, but an analogue. A replica would be a miniaturization of a reality in its exact dimensions, but an analogue simulates the structural relationships of the reality modeled. It speaks analogously–we are pilgrim thinkers that are ever trying to model our theology after God’s own narrative telling. Our theology does not equal Scripture, but it models it. This is the ongoing process of sanctification, as we seek to bring our thoughts in captivity to God’s thoughts.

This means that theology is always a human construct–fallible, subject to adjustment, and always stands under Scripture. This means that theology is reflection on faith; it is not to be equated with faith. Theology draws out the meaning of our experience of faith; but it is not a substitute for faith. It informs and guides our faith as we live it out in our specific contexts, but faith is itself the foundation for theology.

Theology is not absolute truth. God is the absolute Truth. We can apprehend truths about him as he has revealed them in Scripture. But as we attempt to narrate, understand and apply those truths, we do so as situated, fallible, finite human beings. We cannot absolutize our system–only God is Absolute. There is only one God and we are not “him.”

Next week I will begin teaching a three week Maymester class at Lipscomb University.  The undergradaute course is entitled “Systematic  Biblical Doctrine.”  I don’t much like the title–as I will explain later, but it is a course where I introduce students to a narrative reading of theology for the sake of the church.  Over the next few weeks I hope to share on my blog something of what I share with them which is a primer course in Christian theology. 

Below is the basic outline I use in both my undergraduate and graduate systematic theology courses. I constantly debate with myself whether I should embed the hermeneutical and methodological assumptions into the narrative itself or address them as prolegomena.  I think I prefer speaking of them within the story; for example, discussing the nature/function of Scripture as part of the story of Israel and Church. But there is value in laying out my assumptions at the beginning and orienting students to the journey we will take together.

The outline includes some “focus” texts, narrates theology in the light of redemptive history (Creation to Eschaton–my six “Cs”), and summarizes key moments within the story by brief declarative statements.  My intent in the course is to unpack those statements as part of the narrative of God’s active, redemptive and loving pursuit of humanity and his creation. We are called to participate in that pursuit–both in response to God’s own initiative and as partners with God in his work.

Here is the brief outline.  I hope it whets your appetite for a bit of theology over the next three weeks.  🙂

Participating in God’s Story:
A Narrative Reading of Theology for the Church

Living within the Story: Hermeneutical and Methodological Assumptions.

Texts: Titus; Acts 17; Romans 1; 2 Timothy 3:13-4:2; 2 Peter 1:20-21; Ephesians 3:1-6

1. The task of theology is to guide the people of God in their journey as divine imagers who mirror God’s own life and community.

2. The resources of theological reflection are Scripture (the norming norm), creation (general revelation and history) and experience (communal [tradition] and personal [existential]).

I. Creation: The Beginning of God’s Story with Us.

Texts: Genesis 1-2; Psalms 8, 104; Isaiah 44:24-28; 45:18-19; John 17:20-26

3. The divine community seeks communion with the created community and rejoices over creation.

4. God partners with humanity as divine representatives within the shalom-filled creation.

II. Crisis: The Emergence of a Rival Story

Texts: Genesis 3-11; Psalm 10; Romans 1:18-3:20

5. Humanity degenerates through a series of crises.

III. Covenant: God’s Redemptive Pursuit in the Story.

Texts: Genesis 12; Deuteronomy 4-6; Psalms 105-107; Isaiah 42:5-9;  Hosea 1-3, 11; Nehemiah 9; Matthew 23:37-39; Romans 9-11

6. God acts for the nations by creating Israel through which the holy love and redemptive intent of God are revealed.

7. God acts among the nations to shape Israel into a redemptive community that images God as a light to the nations.

IV. Christ: The Presence of the Future within the Story.

Texts: Isaiah 9:1-8; John 1:1-18; Matthew 4:12-25; Luke 4:14-30; Mark 10:35-45; Luke 24; 1 Corinthians 15:20-28, 44-49; Ephesians 1:3-14.

8. God, the Logos, becomes incarnate in order to bring light into the darkness as the Father’s Elect One.

9. The ministry of Jesus is the inbreaking of the future by the already present kingdom of God that culminates in his eschatological death and resurrection.

V. Church: A Spirit-Filled Community as Ongoing Story.

Texts: Acts 2:14-47; Galatians 3:26-4:7; 1 Corinthians 10:1-13; 1 Corinthians 12:12-31; 1 Peter 3:8-4:11; Romans 6-8.

10. God, through the ascended reigning Christ, pours out the Spirit upon the believing community (church) for communion, transformation and empowerment.

11. The church is a community of redeemed humanity (salvation as past experience–Baptism).

12. The church is a community of transformed humanity (salvation as present experience–Table ).

13. The Spirit is at work to redeem and transform all creation through the church (missional ministry).

VI. Consummation: The End as New Beginning for the Story.

Texts: Isaiah 65:17-25; Romans 8:18-27; Revelation 21-22

14. God has always moved his story toward a cosmic goal (salvation as future experience).

Note: This is the first of six small group studies that are coordinated with a sermon series by Dean Barham who is the preaching minister at the Woodmont Family of God. Eventually, his sermons will be available here.

 “His Righteousness Endures Forever”: Two Hymns

Psalms 111 & 112

God created humanity as his representatives (“image of God”) to partner with him in caring for the earth, in co-creating the future with him, and sharing the joys of life. We are called to “mirror” God in our lives. Psalm 112 “mirrors” Psalm 111 and offers insight into how we are to become like God, particularly in the use of our resources and wealth in relation to “others” (creation, poor, community, etc.). We are called to partner with God in the use of our resources to pursue the righteous task that God has given us as his “imagers.” The blessed believer has “no fear of bad news” and is secure in trusting God.

Questions Based on Psalms 111 & 112 

1.  Noting that the subject of Psalm 111 is God and the subject of Psalm 112 is the blessed believer, what parallels can you see between the way God is extolled in Psalm 111 and the life of the blessed believer is celebrated in Psalm 112?

God is  ________________________      

The believer is ___________________

God is _________________________     

The believer is ___________________

God is _________________________     

The believer is ___________________

God is _________________________     

The believer is ___________________

God is _________________________     

The believer is ___________________

God is _________________________     

The believer is ___________________

God is _________________________     

The believer is ___________________

2.  What is the relationship between Psalm 111 and 112?  Why do you suppose they appear back-to-back in Israel’s hymnbook?  What does the Psalmist want to teach by putting these two together?  What is the relationship between praising God and the blessedness of his people?

3.  Does the “blessedness” of the believer scandalize you in any way? What is the blessed person’s relationship to wealth and poverty? What does the blessed person fear or not fear? How does this relationship give the believer freedom to become like God?

4.  Paul quotes Psalm 112 in 2 Corinthians 9:8-11 as part of his attempt to persuade the Corinthians to contribute to his fund for the poor saints in Jerusalem.

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.  As it is written:  “He has scattered abroad his gifts to the poor;  his righteousness endures forever.”  Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness.  You will be made rich in every way so that you can be generous on every occasion, and through us your generosity will result in thanksgiving to God.

What is Paul’s application of this Psalm to the Corinthian church?  How does this inform our use of wealth in our context?  Where is the theme of generosity in both Psalm 111 and 112?

Yesterday I drove to Ellijay, Georgia–the city of my wife’s birth, upbringing, marriage, death and burial. She died around 2:00am on April 30, 1980 while convalescing in her parent’s home from back surgery twenty days before.

Yesterday I drove to her graveside alone. I had not been there alone in some years, perhaps decades. It was time for me to sit with her, pray, reflect, and meditate.

When I arrived, I sat my portable chair near her grave.  Praying, I began journaling as my counselor suggested.  Journaling is often difficult for me, but this time I wrote for almost two hours.

The cemetery is a small one; it is nestled in a small depression with a country white Methodist church building rising above it. The church sits on Highway 52 which rides a blue ridge in north Georgia.  One road makes a short circle within the graveyard–so short that you have to keep your hand turning the wheels as the car moves among the gravestones. The graves are well-kept. It is a serene atmosphere as the cemetery is surrounded by trees and one large fir tree rises near the center.  All of this in sight of the surrounding ridges of the north Georgia mountains. It is a calm, peaceful setting.

Sheila was the first to be buried outside of the circle but today she is accompanied by aunts and uncles on her north and south side.  As yet she has no immediate family lying beside her.

When I sat down, the clouds were ominous. They were dark and brooding.  I anticipated rain and the forecast called for it. I wondered whether I would have to sit in the car and journal.  As I began journaling I wrote that the dark clouds were a metaphor for how I felt sitting next to her. Sadness filled my soul and tears flowed.

As I was writing and thinking about that metaphor–feeling my way through it, the sky changed. The clouds were still there, but a hole had opened up among them. The hole was situated directly above the cemetery and the sun lit Sheila’s grave. It was as if the whole cemetery was engulfed by the blue sky and its bright sun.  At the same time I felt a gentle, cool breeze flowing over me–a calm wind, a peaceful breath.

“God,” I wrote, “is this for me?”

The dark clouds began moving to the northeast, but the blue sky stayed directly over head. The sun was so bright at times that I could barely write. I needed sunglasses but had none. There were still plenty of clouds, but not over Sheila’s grave. The bright sunlight continued unabated.

“God,” I wrote, “are you telling me something?”

As I was driving down Highway 52 to turn into the parking lot of the Methodist church, I noticed how dark the clouds were and I thought to myself “how fitting.” It was how I always anticipated coming here–sad, depressing, upsetting. Consequently, I tended to avoid the grave.

“God,” I wrote, “are you telling me my life has been dark too long? that it is time to see the light?”

The trees whistled with a pleasant wind. The sun dispelled the darkness. The warmth of the sun and refreshing breeze renewed me. The sun’s warmth sent my heart to God’s love and the breeze felt like the breath (Spirit) of God. My father was blowing fresh grace on me–a fresh joy in that painful place with such painful memories.

“God,” I wrote, “you are here now–you are with me. There is peace. The dark clouds are moving away.”

I know not whether you believe in such experiences. But that was mine yesterday. It was as real to me as typing this sentence.  I’ve had them before and this one was simply amazing, wondrous and beautiful.

Is my grieving over?  I doubt it. But I think it reached a new stage yesterday. It was a moment of grace and joy when all I expected was fear and sadness.

“Is this God’s grace?” I wrote with tear-filled eyes.  Yes, indeed, it was.  Thank you, God.

I then visited with Sheila’s parents for a couple of hours. They are godly, good folk. They still love me and I love them.

Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but–I hope–into a better shape.

Estella to Pip, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, chap. 59

But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I shall come out like gold.

Job to Eliphaz, Job 23:10

Estella, “bent and broken” by an abusive marriage, is transformed into something “better.” Now she hopes for the love she once rebuffed and Pip sees her as part of his own redemption. Their suffering prepared them for each other. [Interestingly, the first ending to Great Expectations is not so happy.]

Job began his response to Eliphaz with a declaration that “Today also my complaint is bitter” and God’s “hand is heavy despite my groaning” (Job 23:1). But he knows his suffering is a test of some sort–a bitter one, but one which he will endure though he also protests it.

Estella and Pip can stand on the other side of suffering and value it though they did not enjoy it. Job can sit in the midst of his suffering and recognize it as a refining process though painful and seemingly unjust.

But it takes time to get there, if we ever do. Even Job, in his first response to Eliphaz, protested that “his days have no meaning” in the light of God’s testing (Job 7:16, 18). He boldly declared that he would “speak in the anguish of [his] spirit” and “complain in the bitterness of [his] soul” (Job 7:11).

Yet, somewhere in the process, Job saw something more in his experience than mere injustice. He seems to have always thought it was unfair (cf. Job 27:2) but he did come to see that there was more involved than just that. It had a purpose. Whatever meaning he saw, however, did not deter him from protesting (cf. Job 30).

But all sufferers do not come to terms with some kind of “meaning” in their suffering and neither does their suffering always end up “rosy.”  Sometimes sufferers die in the darkness unaware that their suffering has any meaning whatsover….if, in fact, it does.

Does Sheila’s death have meaning? Does Joshua’s? I think they do, but I am at a loss to tell exactly what it is. Did their losses test and refine me? Surely they did. Did I learn something through the fire? Yes, of course.  Am I better for having been “bent and broken”? Yes, today I am.

Was it worth it?  Honestly, No!  It is difficult to value my “betterment” (even transformation!) as more important than their lives. Here is where my protest arises–my complaint that is sometimes bitter and sometimes angry.

But I recognize that I do not see the whole picture. I don’t know all that God is doing; I could not begin to imagine his mysterious and hidden ways.  All I can do is sit where I sit at the bottom of the bowl, experience my little world, feel my feelings and trust that God knows what he is doing….trust that there is meaning in my suffering….that somehow, someway it is–in God’s grand wisdom–worth it.

Trust. That is the key word.  Trust enables acceptance and dispels fear…but it is a process and it takes time, sometimes lots of time. God is patient. I am his beloved. Let us be patient with each other.

Yesterday I posted two articles by my hand from the 1981 Gospel Advocate. These were my first atttempts, at the age of twenty-three, to write (even publicly speak of) the loss of my wife in 1980.

Reading them again after so long–I don’t think I have read them or perhaps even thought of them in over ten years at least–was an enlightening but also painful experience. As I have thought about the personal, theological and spiritual shifts in my life during my twenties, I was not surprised to see some dimensions of my soul appear in these articles. My comments below are intersubjective and do not intend to address anyone who holds the views articulated in the articles; I am reflecting only on my own experience.

The articles have a distasteful air of triumphalism as I read them today. There are hints of arrogance which I see in the words “proper” or “properly.” I write as if I have it figured out; at least it appears that way to me, knowing my own journey and heart at the time. There is a presumptuousness that understanding providence enbales one to overcome grief.

As I look back on my twenty-three old soul, I give myself lots of grace. It was a soul burdened with grief, reeking with anger against God, and spiritually sick with rebellious feelings. But you didn’t hear that in the article, did you? Well, of course not. It could not be spoken; I would not have spoken it. It would not have been printed. I did not speak it to anyone. I was too ashamed of my feelings, too afraid of judgment by others, and too sick to truly know myself.

I was too much of the hero…playing the hero…to speak such things. I knew what I thought others expected of me, and what I expected from myself. I was supposed to be the hero. It had been my role for some time, and I did not know what to do with my feelings of anger and grief other than feel guilty about them. So, I stuffed them, put on my “theological” face and wrote two relatively detached articles about providence and human life.

I still substantially agree with the articles. I have a high view of sovereignty and trust is a way to healing. I don’t like the distinction between miracle and providence so much anymore, but would rather speak of God’s constant activity. 1 Corinthians 10:13 does not provide the comfort that it once did (or seemingly did in this article)–not sure what is going on with that (it does not “ring” true in my experience). I do believe that God is in control; and he lovingly rules his world for the sake of his people and his creation. While the idea of “divine compliment” seems appropriate, I don’t think of it so much as a “compliment” anymore. Perhaps it is a means by which God garners witnesses in his world to his love, grace and care, but “compliment” is not a healthy word for me now.

The articles leave the impression that I have won. I have overcome. I trust. And everything has settled down. But that is far from the truth. My life was a mess at that moment. I was pursuing my Ph.D. at Westminster, living alone in a one-room studio in Ambler, PA, and making some terrible personal choices. Those choices were the outworkings of my anger and rebellion. Even now shame and guilt surge forward when I think about it even though I know those moments are long forgiven and erased from the heart of God.

What the articles lack–and what I lacked in my life at that time–was a deep sense of lament. I had not learned to lament. I did not know what faithful lament was. I did not know I could be angry with God, even complain and question and doubt, and yet at the same time remain faithful and beloved. I did not learn that (as much as I could “learn” it then) till the summer of 1981 when a friend turned my attention to the Psalms and then Job.

My approach to Job in these articles is about faith and the divine compliment. I had not processed the material between Job 1-2 and Job 42; it was not part of my world. I only “theologized” about sovereignty, the trial of Job, the faith of Job (“Blessed be the name of the Lord”) and God’s “reward.” The laments, bitterness, complaint and horror of Job’s experience had not yet connected with my own. Job 3-41 was terra incognita.

My articles in 1981 are heroic and triumphalistic. They contain much that I still believe, but they are only true if balanced with Psalmist and Jobian laments. They are only true if we excise the arrogance and presumption. They are only true if we remove the detachment and place those truths in the world of lamenters–those who deely feel the injustice of life and the seeming abandonment by their God. Job and Psalms became my Bible after I discovered their laments.

But I give myself a break here (though I find that difficult to do at times). I did not know the laments; I had not experienced the laments of Scripture. I had not learned to pray Scripture. I did not know how to grieve, and in some ways I have only learned to truly grieve in the last year (if even now). I only knew how to project my heroism; and I played it well. I give myself credit for that.  🙂

So, as Don commented yesterday, we need the combination of learning (theology) and suffering. I only see theology in these articles, but I knew the suffering was present in my heart. Now I–and at points in the past I have to some degree–intend to “do” theology with the honesty of a suffering heart. That is part of what I have done on this blog in the past year.

That is what is lacking in those articles. I did not know how to do that then; I did not know what to do with it. The articles are good as far as they go, but they are too detached to resonate with hearts that are angry, grieving and abandoned.  Those articles did not tell the full story of my heart in 1981.

They need a significant dose of biblical lament. We all need that and let us not deny it to those who feel lament; let us give the hurting full opportunity to speak their hurt even if our ears burn and our theologies are offended.

On April 30, 1980, Sheila Pettit Hicks, my wife of two years, eleven months, and eight days, died twenty days after recovering from back surgery. A blood clot stopped her heart while she slept at her parent’s home in Ellijay, GA.  This week is the 29th anniversary of that horrendous moment in my life. It shifted my life in unimaginable ways for me. Sometimes I still wonder about what would have been.

Less than a year after the event, when I was twenty-three, I wrote two articles for the Gospel Advocate in reflection on my experience. My articles are rather detached, highly theological, filled with suspect language (e.g., “proper” or “properly”) and a bit presumptuous. I have provided the text below of the two articles.  In the next few days I will comment on them in light of my present perspectives.

“Divine Providence and Human Lives (1),” Gospel Advocate 123.8 (April 16, 1981), 239, 244.

Divine providence is a difficult and seemingly elusive subject. Yet it is one which has loomed very important in my life this past year. On April 30, 1980 my wife of almost three years died at the age of 25. Since that time I have pondered the question of God’s control over human lives and the role he plays in our lives (deaths). My reaction to Sheila’s death was not to question whether or not God existed (as some agnostic might), but to question why God would permit such a thing. I want to share with you some of my thoughts concerning the role of providence in our lives. This article will set forth the broad outlines of providence and a second will illustrate how a proper understanding of providence helps the bereaved to overcome their grief.

The subject of providence has been complicated by two factors. First, some confuse the difference between miracles and providence. Both are acts of God, but they are effected through different means. A miracle suspends or supercedes the “laws of nature” while providence is God’s working through nature. The parting of the Red Sea was a miracle while our daily provision of food is providence, but both equally the work of God. Second, some either give no place to God in their affairs (as the Deists of the 18th century) or are idly expecting God to make all their choices for them. God does not wind up the world like a clock and sit back to watch it run down nor does he force choices upon the wills of men. Somewhere between these two extremes lies the Biblical concept of providence.

We may properly divide providence into three areas. First, God continually sustains the created natural order. Psalm 104 praises God for his work in nature. The Psalmist proclaims that rain (v. 13), the growth of grass (v. 14), food for the lions (v. 21) and the breath of animals (v. 29) are acts of God. If God removed his sustaining hand, all of nature would collapse. (Cf. Psalm 148:8; Colossians 1:17; Hebrews 1:3.) Second, God controls the nations of the world for his purposes. (Proverbs 21:1; Isaiah 10:5-19.) Daniel attributes the rise and fall of Kings to God himself. (Daniel 2:21; 4:25.) Thus, we are to pray for peace among nations and for our leaders because God can answer those petitions. (1 Timothy 2:1, 2.) He can answer such prayers because he is in providential control of the nations. (In the book of Revelation God answers prayers of the saints with the destruction of Rome, 8:3-5; 9:13.) Third, God oversees the lives of individuals (Proverbs 20:24.), especially the lives of the righteous. What God does in nature and among the nations affects both the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45), but God has a special care for his own people (Psalm 37:25). It is this last aspect upon which I wish to concentrate. The basic affirmation of divine providence is simply this: God is in control!

How does God providentially direct the steps of the righteous? To answer this question it is important to draw a distinction between the choices and the circumstances of life. Every day we are presented with a limited number of choices. It is the circumstances of our life which present to us the options of choice. This distinction is important because God does not force us to make this or that choice, but he does constantly control the circumstances of our life (that is, the choices that we do have). If God were not in control of our options from which we can choose, then the promise of 1 Corinthians 10:13 carries no weight. God so controls our life circumstances that he does not permit Satan to tempt us beyond our ability. God does, however, permit us to be tempted with what we are able to hear much like Adam in the garden.

It disturbs me to hear Christians talk of the “accidental” or “chance” circumstances of their lives. Supposedly these are areas of “luck” over which God has little or no control. If this is true, prayer is in great peril. Perhaps when we receive what we think is a negative answer to a prayer, it is really no answer at all since the answer to the prayer lies beyond God’s ability or control. This is patently false. Prayer presupposes that God is in control of the circumstances of our life and that he can answer “yes” even though in his wisdom he may answer “no” occasionally. Sheila and I prayed that her surgery would be successful, but it was not. Am I to think that her death fell outside of the control of God, that it was the result of chance? Certainly not, since if it were true, this would render all prayer for the sick ineffective. (Contrast James 5:14-18.) In fact, herein lies the answer to grief: accept God’s providential control and wisdom.

Certainly, therefore, God works in our lives by controlling the circumstances of our choices. Are we, then, to attribute everything in our lives (even death itself) to the causative working of God? To answer this question we must make another distinction. Theologians have historically recognized two aspects of the working out of God’s will. One is passive, called the permissive will and the other is active, called the causative will. In the former, God merely permits (he does not directly cause) certain circumstances. For instance, God permitted Job to suffer the death of his children, servants and livestock (Job 1:13-22) though he was not tempted beyond what he could bear. God also permitted the Romans to kill Christians though he did not directly cause the death of those saints. (Revelation 13:7, 15). However, there are some things which God does providentially cause in a direct manner (not miraculously, however). God restored Job’s possessions to him (Job 42:12) and he avenged the blood of the Christian martyrs (Revelation 19:2). Thus, whatever circumstances face us in life (whether death, temptation, illness, etc.) it must be the result of God’s permissive or causative will. It must be either since everything falls under God’s providence. But we are in no position, at least in this life, to judge whether each circumstance is the result of God’s permissive or causative will.

Our lives should be built on the assurance that God is in control of everything having a bearing on the circumstances of our lives. We can take comfort, hope and joy in the fact that God knows what he is doing and is able to do it. Herein lies our help in times of need, trial and temptation. In another article, I will attempt to apply this concept of divine providence to those situations we often consider “evil.”

“Divine Providence and Human Lives (II),” Gospel Advocate 123.9 (May 7, 1981), 261, 277.

The basic affirmation of divine providence is this: God is in control! This means that no matter what happens in the circumstances of our life (not those which result directly from human choices), we must always see the hand of God in what is done. Whatever happens, God is always at work either permissively or causatively. This is easy to acknowledge (though we often fail to) when our life is filled with pleasant events. James 1:17 teaches that “every good gift and every perfect gift is form above.” Solomon points out that God sheds special blessings on the righteous whereas he does the opposite for the wicked. (Proverbs 10:3-16, 27-30; cf. Psalm 16:1-6.) Thus, we ought always to be thankful for the many divine blessings we have.

However, when trouble befalls us, it is more difficult (seemingly impossible) to see the hand of God in our lives. Yet, Proverbs 16:33 reads: “The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.” Another version renders that last phrase this way: “But its every decision is from the Lord.” Whether the lot turns up blessing or trouble, the lot is the result of God’s working. God has either permitted or caused this trouble in our lives. Why did he do it? Perhaps we may be able to answer that question in retrospect or maybe we will never be able to answer it in this life, but more important than speculating on the reason for God’s act is how we are going to cope with this trouble. For weeks after the death of my wife, I continually asked “Why?” It was futile to even attempt to answer that question at that time. (I cannot even answer it now nor do I expect to be able to answer it any time soon.) Instead, I learned to deal with my pain rather than speculating about the “whys” and “wherefores.” In particular, three principles of providence helped me to deal with my wife’s passing (and these principles, I think, are helpful in all kinds of turbulent times).

First, we must trust God’s providential control. Psalm 13 is one that is now close to my heart. The first four verses sustain a continual questioning of God, “How long will thou forget me, O Lord?…How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?” Certainly as we all experience times of trial we question God and even complain to him. It seems that we have a thousand questions but no answers. David had that same sort of feeling, but his answer was to trust God. Psalm 13:5, 6 reads: “But I have trusted in thy mercy; my heart shall rejoice in thy salvation. I will sing unto the Lord, because he hath dealt bountifully with me.” Faith puts an end to the questions of doubt. We recognize the providence and control of God and we trust his will. Do we really trust his wisdom in these matters? We may not have the answers, but we know that the Lord does as he is in control of the universe. We must learn to trust him and that is no easy thing to learn in the midst of a personal crisis. Those who wish to help, impress us with the all-embracing nature of God’s control and his continual loving care for us.
Second, we must maintain a proper perspective throughout the crisis. The writer of Hebrews was expecting his readers to undergo some severe trials of faith very soon. Thus, in Hebrews 12 he instructs them concerning how to cope with these persecutions and trials. They were to treat their troubles as God’s fatherly discipline. The writer compares earthly chastenings with God’s heavenly discipline (vv. 10-11).

For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but he for our profit, that we might be partakers of his holiness. Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievious: nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby.

A good summary of this section is “pain for our own good.” Though it hurts to suffer the death of a loved one, God can (and does) use that experience for our profit. Through pain we come to understand, appreciate and obtain peace. Thus, every crisis ought to be seen from the perspective of discipline. This does not mean that God is punishing us (as if God was punishing me through Sheilas’s death), but simply that God refines and matures us through fire (cf. 1 Corinthians 3:13-15).

If we can see our way through the pain and hurt, there is actually a divine compliment in every trial. With every such circumstance God is saying in effect: “I know you can bear this burden and I will use it to strengthen you.” It is not so much a test of faith (though it is that), but an opportunity to strengthen our faith. Sheila was the first of her immediate family to die. Perhaps she died first because she would not have been able to bear the death of the others. Though that is speculation, it is certain that Gold knew I could (and her family could) bear the burden since he permitted it to happen, and God does not permit us to be tempted above our ability. (1 Corinthians 1o:13.) Since we are often tempted to think that God has forgotten us in our times of trial (Psalm 13:1-4), we must maintain our perspective—which is no easy task, and one with which we need help—and then we will not see God’s absence in our trouble, but his presence through discipline.

Third, we must remember the promises of God and that God is faithful to his promises. Proverbs 16:4 says that “The Lord had made all things for himself: yea, even the wicked for the day of evil.” Thus, God is able to work things out for our profit. This is the promise of Romans 8:28: “And we know that all things work together for good to them that have God, to them who are called according to his purpose.” Further, “if God be for us, who can be against us? He that spared not his own Son, but delivered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things?” (Romans 8:31b-33). The promise is not that nothing bad will ever happen to the righteous, but that whatever happens, God will work it for good. (How could God make such a promise if he is not in total control of our life circumstances?) We know he will since he even gave up his Son for us. If he would do that, then certainly he would do whatever else he could for us. God is on our side. He is working for us, not against us. It seems that the natural tendency in every trial is to think that God is somehow opposing us. But God is working for the righteous in every trial. God is able to take the most despairing of situations and turn them into something good. He is able and he has promised, and God keeps his promises. (Hebrews 6:11-19; 10:23.)

God’s providence renders every sorrow, every illness, and every burden bearable. We recognize his total control and rejoice in his promises. We trust him. With this thought I mind, I wish to end this article with a poem that we found in a book Sheila had been reading the night she went home. We found it her own hand-writing (but nowhere in the book). We think it is her own composition, but we are not sure. In any even, it gave her comfort in recovering from her surgery and it gave me comfort in dealing with her passing. It truly magnifies the providence of God in his sustaining work.

It is in times of calamity,
         in days and nights of sorrow and trouble
               that the presence,
                    the sufficiency
                         and the sympathy of God
  grow very sure and very wonderful.

Then we find out that the grace of God is sufficient,
        for all our needs,
              for every problem and
                   for every difficulty,
  for every broken heart and for every human sorrow.