Monthly Archives: May 2007

Scriptures I Could Do Without, Part 4: Philippians 4:13

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We all have them—passages of Scripture that we’d rather weren’t there . . . little unalterable truths we wish would just disappear . . . . statements about God or humanity that we’d like to revise. But no matter how hard we try to re-translate or re-interpret them, those convicting verses just won’t budge. And by the very fact that they torment us, they demand our attention . . . and submission.

I Can Do It!

“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

When we take these words of Philippians 4:13 out of context, they appear to teach that with God’s help we can accomplish anything we set our hearts on. We see the extreme form of this with the Benny Hinns and Kenneth Copelands of the world—that is, God’s in the business of making us healthy, happy, successful, and prosperous.

But the context of this passage actually turns this frame-worthy motivational verse on its head:

I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:12–13)

When Paul says he can do “all things” through Christ, he means that Christ had granted him the ability to live with plenty, and with nothing; to be satisfied with both an abundance, and with need. The key issue here is contentment . . . not ambition. It’s about being at peace with what you have or don’t have, not passionately pursuing more.

Relying on God for contentment makes perfect sense when we struggle with not having something we need or want. But why would we need to be content with having an abundance? In reality, if we reflect on the unique challenges of both the “Haves” and “Have Nots,” we’ll see that each must depend on God’s strength for contentment in either circumstance.

The Have Nots

Those who have less health, wealth, and success than others face unique spiritual struggles. I can think of three big ones.

1. The envy of others. When we can’t keep our eyes off of what other people have, it generates envy, jealousy, and covetousness. These can boil over into awful attitudes, mean-spirited comments, and evil actions. “I sure wish we could afford a car like the Joneses!” “John, why can’t you get a better job so we can have a bigger house like the Smiths?” The Bible diagnoses the problem this way: “You are envious and cannot obtain; so you fight and quarrel” (James 4:2).

2. The quest for more. When we compare what little we have with the abundance of others, it’s easy of set “more” as our primary goal. In our personal crusade for more, we would be tempted to conscript our time, energy, career, relationships, and family. But don’t do it. Heed Paul’s warning: “But those who want to get rich fall into temptation and a snare and many foolish and harmful desires which plunge men into ruin and destruction” (1 Timothy 6:9)

3. The pride of humility. Believe it or not, those with little can actually have more pride in their poverty than the rich have in their wealth. Some Christians think the poor and needy are necessarily less worldly than the rich. But this kind of spiritual pride is just as sinful as the boasts of a billionaire. Jesus said, “Many who are first will be last, and the last, first” (Mark 10:31). But seeking to be last in order to be first is really the same as seeking to be first! Just because I may have few material possessions doesn’t make me any less materialistic.

Clearly, the Have Nots need God’s gift of contentment in their humble circumstances. But what about the Haves?

The Haves

Those who have more than others also face unique spiritual struggles. Here are three.

1. Bragging and boasting. When we acquire an abundance, many of us feel like broadcasting it whenever we can. We’ll even gently steer conversations in a direction that allows us to boast. In many cases the motive can be to present ourselves as superior. It almost always involves an over-confidence in the power of wealth. Yet 1 Timothy 6:17 says, “Instruct those who are rich in this present world not to be conceited or to fix their hope on the uncertainty of riches, but on God.

2. Shame and guilt. Strangely, a common sin of the Haves is to be embarrassed about the abundance God has given them. Yes, some people who believe poverty is the ideal for the Christian may actually conceal their blessings. They may over-compensate by pretending to have less than they really do. But the wealthy should never be uncomfortable with their calling to be rich. Paul said that with their wealth, the rich are expected to “do good, to be rich in good works” (1 Timothy 6:18). Wealth is nothing to be ashamed of when it’s accompanied by humility and generosity.

3. To have and to hoard. Christian financial experts often spend more time talking about saving and investing than about giving and blessing. It seems that “stewardship” has become a synonym for “saving” or even “hoarding.” But Paul could not be more clear: the rich are to be “generous and ready to share” (1 Timothy 6:18). God blesses us so we can bless others. Ultimately, all that we have and will have belongs to the Lord.

I could go on exploring the unique challenges facing both the Haves and the Have Nots. But this should be enough to see that Paul had a reason for appealing to God’s strength to help him be content in both abundance and need. Whether you consider yourself to be a Have or a Have Not—whether it relates to health, education, wealth, or success—Paul’s prayer of contentment can apply to you: “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13).

What If Our "Center" Is Really the Fringe?

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In the nineteenth century America was beset with a major theological crisis in its churches and seminary. “Liberals” began questioning—then abandoning—the Christ-centered orthodox creeds and authoritative Scriptures in exchange for a man-centered religion of morality and cultural relevance. “Evangelicalism” originally sprang up as a defense of the “fundamentals” of the Christian faith. However, since its initial identity as the guardian of classic Protestant orthodoxy, evangelicalism has changed and developed over the decades.

So, in the twentieth century the “center” of evangelicalism began to materialize into a more solid core of beliefs and values. These included an emphasis on Scripture as the center, source, and norm of the faith, sometimes to the complete exclusion of other sources of theological understanding and reflection. And as happened in the liberalism of the previous century, the creeds, theological traditions, and historical continuity became less important . . . until in many branches of evangelical tradition they became irrelevant distractions or even signs of heterodox or heretical thinking. As long as a belief or practice conformed to Scripture, it was accepted—even if it was countered by all of church history and theological traditions. Other values also took the center stage of evangelicalism—practical theology, expository teaching and preaching, a revivalist view of the gospel, an unrelenting emphasis on free will and personal choice in conversion, and a militant conservative social and political perspective. In many sectors of evangelicalism, if somebody were to challenge these priorities, they would be labeled non-evangelicals, liberals, or even false teachers.

Yet as strange as it may sound, the “center” of some branches of evangelicalism seems to have become the “fringe” of classic orthodox Christianity. In short, many evangelical churches are appearing increasingly more “evangelical,” but increasingly less “Christian.”

You see, the center of Christianity has always been Jesus Christ. It is not the Bible. It is not expository preaching. It is not the a personal response to the gospel message. Rather, it is God the Son who became man, lived a life of perfect righteousness, revealed the Father and the Spirit, died for our sins, rose from the dead, and will come again. Through Christ we believe the Bible as the inspired and inerrant Word of God that points us to Him. Through Christ we encounter the Triune God of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Through Christ we have salvation and forgiveness of sins by grace through faith alone. Through Christ we are empowered to live a regenerated life by His Spirit. Through Christ we are incorporated into the church and receive instruction and inspiration to carry out its mission. Through Christ we have a proper view of the depravity and neediness of fallen humanity as well as the ideal model and ultimate pattern of redeemed humanity. And through Christ we can anticipate the new world to come when this fallen cosmos will be redeemed by His power and glory.

Don’t misunderstand me. I love the inerrant Word of God, powerful expository preaching, a clear presentation of the gospel of grace through faith, and all the things that mark me as a proud evangelical. But to the degree that evangelicalism has put the Bible at the center of the Christian worldview, it has removed Jesus Christ from the center. To the degree that it has focused on a personal, voluntary, and free-will response to a bare-bones gospel presentation, evangelicalism has reduced the profound person and work of Jesus Christ to mere propositions to be preached. To the degree that evangelicals have modeled their methods and structures after cultural forms with biblical proof-texts, they have failed to measure them against the one model of all things human and perfect: Jesus Christ.

So, I ask these important questions, only because it’s time we ask it. What if evangelicalism has unwittingly drifted not into error per se, but into an errant emphasis on things that were always meant to orbit around Jesus Christ and point to Him? What if twenty-first century evangelicals have replaced the Christ-centered community of faith and faithfulness with a subtle me-centered individualistic philosophy? What if the means of expressing the faith has become the faith itself? What if evangelicals have gone the way of nineteenth century liberalism and consciously drifted from a continuity with the Great Tradition of the church that has always placed Jesus Christ at the center of all things Christian? What if we’ve gone so far astray that everything I’m saying in this essay actually sounds liberal to its readers?

In short, what if the “center” of much evangelicalism has actually become the “fringe” of authentic, historical Christianity?

Scriptures I Could Do Without, Part 3: John 17:14–16

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We all have them—passages of Scripture that we’d rather weren’t there . . . little unalterable truths we wish would just disappear . . . statements about God or humanity that we’d like to revise. But no matter how hard we try to re-translate or re-interpret them, those convicting verses just won’t budge. And by the very fact that they torment us, they demand our attention . . . and submission.

In the World, Not of It

“Incarnational ministry” has become a common catchphrase for many evangelicals involved in missions at home and abroad. It is often contrasted with a “colonial” approach that allegedly sought to set up Christian outposts that promoted Western language, culture, and values—little islands of colonists who converted the natives not only to Christ, but also to capitalism. But an incarnational approach attempts to bring the message of Christ in words and works that incarnated Christ for the culture—becoming an Asian to the Asians, a Hippie to the Hippies, a Postmodern to the Postmoderns. In such a way we would be imitating Christ’s example, who became a human for the humans to minister to them as they were. As I reflect on Christianity’s relationship to the world, I return continually to the prayer of Christ.

“I have given them Your word; and the world has hated them, because they are not of the world, even as I am not of the world. I do not ask You to take them out of the world, but to keep them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world.” (John 17:14–16)

Living in the world, but not of the world . . . being here, but not belonging here . . . the tremendous discomfort I feel when I think about Christ’s words makes me wish He had never said them. Christians are called to engage culture (and to disengage from it), to immerse in it (and to float above it), to relate to it (and to transcend it). It’s so easy to fall into one ditch or the other rather than to navigate along that narrow road of biblical balance. The answer must be to follow Christ’s lead with “incarnational ministry,” but what does that look like?

The Incarnational Narrative

The Bible teaches that the eternal Son of God voluntarily left His heavenly place of glory and, without ceasing to be God, also became a finite human being with a real body of flesh (John 1:1, 14; Philippians 2:6–11). God took on humanity while still remaining full deity; and upon His death and resurrection, God the Son returned to His place of glory with a resurrected and glorified human nature. I call this the “incarnational narrative”—the true story of the Son of God’s “V”-shaped act of voluntary humiliation, death, resurrection, and exaltation.

If our vision of “incarnational ministry” is to truly follow the pattern of Christ, and if we are to carefully live out the mandate to be in the world but not of the world, we must keep this incarnational narrative always before us as the only model. But sometimes I get the feeling that what many regard as “incarnational ministry” actually reflects a different story of Jesus that doesn’t quite reflect the biblical pattern of the incarnation.

True and False Incarnational Ministry

I believe that aberrant views of the incarnation—or a complete disregard for the doctrine—can lead to Christians misapplying Christ’s cultural mandate while still waving the banner of “incarnational ministry.” An ancient “adoptionist” view taught that the heavenly Christ descended upon the earthly Jesus at His baptism, or suggested that Jesus was adopted into the level of divinity at the resurrection or ascension. A variation of adoptionism suggests that the human Jesus gradually became God incarnate, growing throughout His life more and more godly, holy, and full of the Spirit until he reached a state of divinized humanity.

Another false view is a “kenotic” christology. This view—often associated with nineteenth century liberal theologians—holds that when the Son of God emptied Himself at the incarnation, He gave up His divine nature and was—during the earthly ministry—only human. Deity was exchanged for humanity. The heavenly became merely earthly.

These views fall short of the biblical incarnation. Yet sometimes what is passed off today as “incarnational ministry” seems to reflect one of these errant views rather than an orthodox incarnational view.

For instance, an approach to culture that strips Christianity of its unique identity, jettisons ancient biblical and theological forms and structures, or loses its reverence and transcendence to a casual familiarity, looks a lot like a kenotic christology. By exchanging the heavenly, timeless, and transcendent for the earthly, mundane, and culture-bound, some Postmodern Christians immerse themselves in the world without ever coming up for air. There’s such a thing as being so relevant to culture that Christians lose a unique (and, yes, offensive) Christian identity. Christians should never feel compelled to downplay theology, biblical authority, truth, and holy living for the sake of a so-called incarnational ministry. The eternal Son of God brought full divinity, truth, and holiness with Him into the world . . . and He paid dearly for it. So should we.

At the same time, we should avoid an adoptionist approach that begins with the things of the world and tries to “Christianize” or “divinize them.” Yes, we ought to redeem the things of this world for God’s glory to the degree that they reflect the original goodness of God’s creation and the image of God. But this can easily fall into the error of assuming unholy relics into the holy temple, the modern cultural equivalent of sacrificing swine on the altar or baptizing the unconverted. Not everything the world has to offer can be adopted uncritically “as is.” Not all music and movies contain secret Christian messages. Not every new organizational fad or business model should be adopted to revolutionize our ministries or to launch explosive church growth. These things might appear effective in the short term, but what are they really communicating about Christianity? And what are they reflecting about the Person and work of Christ?

From a true incarnational perspective, there is such thing as coddling too closely to culture, being both in the world and of the world. When Christ came from heaven to earth, He did not give up His unique deity, His holiness, His embodiment of truth. He was both profound and practical, theological and relevant, innovative and traditional, heavenly and earthly, spirit and flesh . . .

He was both in the world and not of it (John 17:14–16).