With the start of a new semester upon us, I’ve been thinking (often against my will) about pedagogy and the disconnect that often exists between teachers, students, and administrators on the kinds of data that are most helpful in the task of improving student learning.

One issue that is particularly fraught is student evaluations of teaching. This is an area specific to teaching environments, but I think the following discussion is relevant to any area where feedback is either unavoidable or actively solicited. For example, I remember a particular Sunday from my years of leading the music for church services. Four people lined up after being in the same service to give four bits of precious feedback: First two: the bass was too loud, couldn’t hear anything else; Then: the bass was great, but I’d like to be able to feel it, so maybe turn it up? Next two: song selection has grown stale, we need to stay current; Then: too many new songs, where are the hymns?!

This kind of feedback is a common experience when encountering feedback results from multiple people. Student evaluations produce plenty of data. What they do not provide is a method for interpreting it.

The quantitative results present one problem. What counts as a meaningful pattern? When does a low score identify a pedagogical weakness rather than the peculiarities of a particular course or cohort? The written comments present an even harder problem because students regularly offer contradictory accounts of the same course:

Student 1: Class was fine, but the page count of required reading should be reduced.

Student 2: Enjoyed the class; the reading was really great, but more should be assigned.

Or:

Student 1: Professor was great. I loved his humor; his stories illustrated class concepts and gave us a personal connection to the material.

Student 2: Professor was fine, but he wasted too much time telling stories.

A professor determined to “listen to the students” has no obvious course of action here. Tell more stories or fewer? Assign more reading or less?

The problem is partly that student evaluations ask students to do several things at once. Students report their experience of a course, evaluate its effectiveness, diagnose its problems, and sometimes propose solutions. Those are different kinds of information, and they should not receive equal weight.

Teachers therefore need something more than a proper attitude toward student evaluations. We need a method for reading and making sense of them.

One unlikely source for such a method comes from video game development.

This is not an argument for game-based learning or for the gamification of student evaluations. The useful comparison is with playtesting, the process by which game designers put an unfinished game in front of actual players and observe what happens.

A designer knows how a game is supposed to work. The playtester does not. That ignorance is precisely what makes the playtester valuable. Players encounter the game without access to the intentions, assumptions, and explanations that exist in the designer’s head. They get lost. They become frustrated. They discover strategies the designer never anticipated. They find some moments tedious and others unexpectedly delightful.

The resulting information is indispensable. It is also difficult to interpret.

Ian Dallas, creative director of Giant Sparrow and director of What Remains of Edith Finch, describes this process in his 2018 Game Developers Conference presentation on the development of Edith Finch. The game consists of radically different stories and mechanics, which meant that Dallas and his team spent a considerable amount of development time building, testing, revising, and discarding prototypes. The goal was to make unfamiliar mechanics intuitive without stopping to explain them through tutorials. That required watching what actual players did with what the designers had made.

There is a useful asymmetry here for teachers. Students know things about our courses that we cannot know, but they also don’t know everything we know (not even close!).

A student knows what it was like to encounter an assignment for the first time. The professor cannot reproduce that experience. The student knows where instructions seemed opaque, where a lecture lost the room, where the workload became unmanageable, where a discussion unexpectedly clarified a difficult text. This is the kind of information that deserves serious attention.

But, contrary to the view of many students, experiencing a course does not confer expertise in designing one. A student can accurately report frustration while incorrectly identifying its cause. A student can identify a real problem while proposing a solution that would create three more. And a student can dislike something that is nevertheless serving an important pedagogical purpose.

Game designers face the same problem with playtesters. Their solution is neither to obey player feedback nor to dismiss it. To gain valuable insight from player or student feedback, you have to learn how interpret it.

The field of game design (and particularly the process of playtesting) suggests seven guiding principles for professors who are experiencing the raw data of student evaluations.

1. Trust the Problem; Test the Solution

One of the most useful principles of playtesting is deceptively simple: when players identify a problem, pay attention; when they tell you how to fix it, become much more cautious.

Playtesting guides regularly distinguish between these two kinds of feedback. Players are often quite good at identifying where something feels wrong. They are much less reliable at identifying the design decision responsible for that experience. A player who says, “I need a map,” has certainly told the designer something useful. But what the designer knows with confidence is that the player felt lost. Adding a map is only one possible response. The actual problem might be poor environmental cues, confusing level architecture, inadequate landmarks, or a failure to communicate where the player is supposed to go. Good playtesting therefore treats proposed solutions as evidence about an experience rather than as instructions for redesign.

See, for example, this overview of playtesting practice and these playtesting guidelines for designers.

Dallas makes the point more sharply when discussing frustrated players. Players frequently have an explanation for why they became frustrated and an accompanying suggestion for what the developer should change. His warning is that players may be unaware of the chain of design decisions that actually produced their frustration. The frustration is real; their diagnosis remains an under-informed hypothesis.

This distinction transfers quite well to student evaluations.

Consider the familiar comment:

“There’s way too much reading in this course. The professor should assign fewer pages.”

It’s tempting either to accept or reject the statement as a whole. Instead, separate it into its two claims.

The first is experiential: the reading load felt excessive.

The second is diagnostic and prescriptive: the course contains too much reading, so the professor should reduce the page count.

The first claim is valuable evidence of a given student’s experience, while the second requires further investigation and expert assessment.

Perhaps there really is too much reading. But perhaps the problem is uneven distribution. Seventy-five pages every week may be manageable while 250 pages during the week before a major paper is not. Perhaps students do not understand which readings require close analysis and which require more rapid engagement. Perhaps too many readings seem disconnected from what happens in class. Perhaps students are spending four hours on material the professor expects them to complete in two because the professor has never taught them how to read that kind of text.

Reducing the page count might solve any of these problems. But it might also solve none of them.

This is why the advice, “Ignore student suggestions,” is probably wise overall but also too strong. The suggested solutions contain important information, but this information has to be interpreted by an experienced teacher. One mistake is to attempt implementing every suggestion (can’t be done because there are always conflicting opinions with their attendant conflicting solutions!).

The professor should instead work backward from the proposed solution to the experience that generated it. What problem is this student trying to solve?

That move preserves what is most valuable about student feedback without making course design an unwieldy free-for-all or an everchanging wiki- that morphs to match the whims of the lastest cohort of students. In most cases, students are capable of providing their limited perception of their experience in a course. They cannot, by the fact that they are students, provide authoritative interpretation of the course’s design. Think, for example, of a scenario when a student has fun in a course but does not retain any of the information or develop the intended set of skills the course was designed to produce. Their comment might be, “Loved the class. Don’t change a thing!” But, it’s possible that the course actually needs serious revision. And vice-versa, etc, inter alia, lol.

A playtester tells the designer where the game hurts. The designer still has to determine why.

Student evaluations must themselves be evaluated for them to serve their purpose. They can provide insight and make you a better teacher, but this result usually requires an already insightful teacher.

NB: I may continue this series, or I may, well, not.

Why were some written texts about Jesus and Christianity accepted as authoritative and others not? How did typical communities in the early church era navigate this question?

Some see this as a hopelessly misguided question. Others argue that the reception of these early writings was either completely arbitrary or motivated by purely political scenarios.

However, there were in fact several distinct factors that the earliest churches used as they considered whether or not a specific writing was to be understood as a legitimate part of the collection of Scripture. These factors are sometimes called the “criteria for canonicity.”

The self-understanding of the believing community, though, was that they were recognizing rather than establishing the limits of the collection. Accordingly, a better descriptor for these factors might be retrospective criteria for recognition.

To illustrate the broad idea of an initial status and a gradual recognition of something, we can think of an event at the Olympic Games. An athlete crosses the finish line in the 100-meter dash, and she becomes the winner of that race. Everyone who saw this event knows that she is the winner. At some point, though, the race is certified by Olympic officials in the record books, and then later on there is a ceremony where the athlete runner steps onto the podium and receives the gold medal.

In the subsequent medal ceremonies, there are no surprises because everyone who was involved in this event knows who will be stepping onto those podiums long before they actually do.

This example illustrates the scenario in which a biblical book can be inspired Scripture from the time that it is written, even though it might take a length of time before this book is formally recognized for what it has always been.

As the churches reflected on the biblical writings, there were several key characteristics that influenced the reception of these books in various communities. These retrospective criteria for recognition were not clear-cut “tests” for biblical books; rather, these were ways of thinking about the books that were in use among the churches. So, what characterized an authentic NT writing?

When readers in the early churches were considering the various writings they were encountering, two prevailing questions were central: Does this writing represent true teaching?” and “Is this writing widely received?”

Prevailing Question #1:
Does This Writing Represent True Teaching?

The prevailing criteria for recognition during the early reception of the NT writings was continuity with the Hebrew Bible (OT) and the teaching of Jesus and the apostles. This factor is sometimes understood as a writing’s orthodoxy and apostolicity.

Orthodoxy refers to the question of truth. Is what is written here true? The criteria for what was true in a NT writing was whether it accorded with the Hebrew Scriptures and whether it accorded with the teachings of Jesus and his apostles.

This concern for truth in relation to the already established authority of the OT Scriptures is a familiar emphasis in the NT. For instance, Paul tells the Corinthians, “I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the Scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures” (1 Cor 15:3–4).

The theme of true words develops in a special way in John’s Gospel. Jesus speaks truth because he speaks words from the Father. As he says, “I have given them your word” (John 17:14). He then prays, “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth” (17:17). In John 19, John’s eye-witness testimony is affirmed as the narrator states, “He who saw it has borne witness—his testimony is true, and he knows that he is telling the truth—that you may also believe” (19:35).

Echoing this statement, John notes that his Gospel narrative was written “so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). Finally, the last words of the Gospel assert that “this is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true” (21:24).

In this sequence, Jesus’s words are truth, the gospel message preached by the apostles is truth, and the Gospel narrative written by this apostle is true.1

Accordingly, the feature of apostolicity was perhaps the central criteria for inclusion in the growing group of NT writings. Apostolic here can refer to whether a writing was actually written by an apostle himself or also whether the author was a close associate of the apostles. More broadly, and perhaps more centrally, “apostolicity” referred to a writing that represented the teaching of the apostles and was from the time of the apostles.

Other writings, such as apocryphal gospels, pseudonymous letters, or general Christian literature from later periods were rejected because they were not written in the apostolic age. This factor is sometimes characterized as a writing’s antiquity (i.e., age relative to the era of the apostles).

For example, in the Muratorian Fragment, the author affirms the readability of the The Shepherd of Hermas (an influential early Christian writing) but rejects its authoritative status. The author writes, “But Hermas wrote The Shepherd very recently, in our times, in the city of Rome, while bishop Pius, his brother, was occupying the chair of the church of the city of Rome. And therefore it ought indeed to be read; but it cannot be read publicly to the people in church either among the Prophets, whose number is complete, or among the Apostles, for it is after their time.”2

Here the author is concerned about when the book was written, its connection to the prophets and apostles, and its widespread usage in the churches (“but it cannot be read publicly to the people in the church”). Most of the time, there were more than one factor considered in this evaluation.

The characteristics of “apostolicity” and “continuity with the Hebrew Bible” were essentially the anchors of this discussion. A two-fold question, then, dominated any deliberations: Is this writing apostolic (from the time and teaching of the apostles) and does it “accord” with the Hebrew Scriptures?

Guidance for this combination of characteristics is found in 2 Peter 3. As Peter states, “you should remember the predictions of the holy prophets and the commandment of the Lord and Savior through your apostles” (2 Pet 3:2). Later readers took Peter’s words to heart and argued that truly “apostolic” writings should have a direct connection to the “holy prophets” and “the commandment of the Lord and Savior.” Identifying the presence of these two types of connections generally and quickly “ruled out” most possible rival writings.

The beginning and end of Paul’s letter to the Romans is a good example of how these elements (the prophetic witness of the OT, the teaching of Jesus, and the gospel preached by the apostles) mark the discernible heartbeat of NT writings.

• Rom 1:1–6: “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy Scriptures, concerning his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith for the sake of his name among all the nations, including you who are called to belong to Jesus Christ.”

• Rom 16:25–27: “Now to him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but has now been disclosed and through the prophetic writings has been made known to all nations, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith—to the only wise God be glory forevermore through Jesus Christ! Amen.”

Prevailing Question #2:
Is This Writing Widely Recognized?

The second prevailing question early readers asked of possible Scriptural writings was, “Is this writing widely recognized as authoritative Scripture?”

A distinctive feature of the books that became canonical was their early and widespread authoritative usage in the churches. This feature is sometimes called catholicity. The writings of the NT were the “catholic” writings. Here, “catholic” does not refer to the later Roman Catholic Church but rather to the fact that these writings were utilized not by a single group but by many diverse groups in many diverse locations. They were in this sense “universal” (the ancient meaning of “catholic”). The canonical writings were not deemed authoritative Scripture necessarily in every church, but in churches “everywhere.”

Of course, there were a myriad of social, political, and theological factors that influenced each community as they considered these issues. However, these particular types of questions were asked with regularity and consistency.

What is more, there were also disagreements and differences of opinion about certain writings or about the importance of these various criteria. However, as some of the external evidence indicates, these debates took place within the context of an early church community that had a remarkably consistent shared emphasis on the types of concerns noted above.

Further, it is also helpful to remember the considerable resources the earliest churches had as they reflected upon the nature and extent of the NT canon. As we have discussed in previous chapters, the church was never without a canon. The Law, the Prophets, and the Writings were the texts from which they preached the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The fourfold Gospel grouping and a substantive collection of Paul’s letters were also circulated and received as authoritative writings virtually from their inception. As the churches sought to discern the nature and extent of the NT collection, they thus had an embarrassment of riches to draw upon.

Summary

During the era when the NT writings began to circulate broadly, there was a clear need to be able to discern which Christian literature was authoritative, which books could be read with profit, and which books should be rejected as misguided heresy or harmful false teaching.

Though this process was sometimes complex and specific to a given geographic context, there are several key resources and a series of distinct lines of analysis that the earliest churches drew upon as they read and treasured the Scriptures in the early days of the church.

Never without a canon, the readers and leaders of the believing community were guided by a rule of faith that was shaped by the OT Scriptures, the teachings of Jesus and the apostles, and the core of the burgeoning NT canon.3

Notes:

In the most recent issue of BN (Biblische Notizen), the focus is “The Body, Sickness, and the Bible.” My contribution is a brief study of the presence and function of sickness in the narrative of Chronicles. The article is academic, but it’s not overly technical (focusing on the literary presentation rather than grammatical or historical analysis).

This was an interesting article to brainstorm, research, and communicate. Obviously, much more could be said about sickness and suffering in the story of Scripture, but I tried to focus on how this theme shows up in the book of Chronicles in particular.

In this way, the article is a small contribution to showing the significance of seeing Chronicles as a beautiful and sophisticated biblical book on its own terms (and not only as a random supplement to Samuel/Kings!).

Here’s the gist/abstract:

This article explores the narrative function of sickness or illness in the book of Chronicles. In order to maintain this focus, I will first sketch the shape and message of Chronicles as a discrete narrative on its own terms and also as a biblical text deeply embedded in the literary and theological context of the Hebrew Bible. I will then consider instances of pain and physical sickness in the book. In light of this textual analysis, I suggest that the portrayal of sickness is a minor but meaningful aspect of the Chronicler’s compositional strategy in his comprehensive treatment of Israel’s history.

Here’s how I unfold the study:

1. Shape and Message of Chronicles

2. The Primal Presence of Pain in the World

3. The Plague of Divine Judgment

4. Illness and the Path to Exile

   1. Asa’s Feet (2 Chron 16:11–14)

   2. Jehoram’s Intestines (2 Chron 21:18–20)

   3. Uzziah’s Skin (2 Chron 26:19–23)

   4. Hezekiah’s Sickness (2 Chron 32:24–33)

5. Reflections on the Narrative Function of Sickness in Chronicles

Here’s how I wrap things up:

Sickness is also not monocausal in this narrative world. Pain could be a result of living in a world marked by sin and decay. Suffering might also stem from a form of divine judgment for unfaithfulness. Sometimes the theological focus is on the origin of the disease (e.g., the Lord’s direct affliction of Uzziah’s skin) and at other times on the response of the one who is sick (e.g., Asa’s stubborn resistance and Hezekiah’s humble repentance).

Breaches of faith that lead to physical and immediate consequences often occur in direct proximity to the temple, involve the quality of the people’s worship in Jerusalem, and within earshot of a prophet of the Lord. During the exile, the temple has been destroyed, the people have been dispersed, and the words of prophetic judgment ring loud.

Part of the narrative function of pain and sickness in Chronicles is to affirm this judgment but also help a reader hear the subtle yet distinct chords of hope. Even in the unstoppable movement toward exile, a faithful king who responds to the word of the Lord with fear and trembling can bring about the blessed life of peace with God.

This theologically loaded message could serve as a word of exhortation for readers seeking to be faithful in post-exilic and post-modern times alike.

NB:

• If you would like to read the whole thing, DM me for a PDF.

• Reference: Spellman, Ched. “The Narrative Function of Sickness in Chronicles.” Biblische Notizen 208 (2026): 47–58.

• You can see the other articles in this issue here.

An article I wrote for a special issue of the journal Perichoresis has been released. The issue’s topic is “parallel reading.” The other articles are more strictly exegetical (examining specific instances of intertextual connections). My contribution relates to the art of reading the Bible as a two-testament witness.

Here’s the abstract:

This article examines the interpretive activity of reading biblical texts in parallel, focusing on its role in conceptualizing the relationship between the Old and New Testaments. Because the biblical canon provides no single, explicit articulation of its internal dynamic, this relationship is a crux interpretum that faces every reader of the Christian Bible.

The first section surveys distinct biblical-theological frameworks for relating the testaments and notes that each conveys important insights but also has inherent limitations.

The second section focuses on a specific example: the varied New Testament utilization of Psalm 110. This case study illustrates how the practice of parallel reading, even at the granular level of exegesis, requires navigating between canonical continuity and tension. Ultimately, this hermeneutical reflection on the canon’s internal complexity will deepen a reader’s understanding of Scripture’s multifaceted witness to Christ.

Here’s how I unfold the study:

1. Canonical Patterns: Conceptualizing the Relationship Between the Testaments

   1. The Flow of Redemptive History

   2. The Plotline of a Mega Narrative

   3. A Stream of Tradition History

   4. A Series of Shared Theological Confessions

   5. Unity and Diversity in the Context of the Canon

2. Exegetical Horizons: Pairings and Parallels in the NT’s Reception of Psalm 110

   1. The Messiah, Whose Son is He?

   2. The Son of Man who Sits Down

   3. The Son Who is Seated and the Spirit Who is Sent

   4. The Exalted Son and Appointed Priest

   5. What the Son Does at the Father’s Right Hand

3. The Joyful Complexity of Parallel Reading

Here’s how I wrap things up:

The exercise of reading texts in parallel also shows that the relationship between the testaments is neither simple nor secondary. It is constitutive of the way the Christian Bible communicates its message. The biblical canon continually presses its readers into patterns of comparison and synthesis. Further, the conceptual patterns surveyed above each capture something essential about the internal relation of Christian Scripture’s two-testament witness: its historical unfolding, its narrative coherence, its layered composition, and its theological confession. In exegesis, an interpreter must have a grasp of the canon’s shape that is firm enough to admit some form of organic unity and yet flexible enough to handle the varied ways that one biblical text draws upon another.

Such complexity is not a hermeneutical liability but a theological gift that reminds readers that the meaning of Scripture is not exhausted by a single pane of a larger mosaic. Rather, this interpretive density reflects both the inexhaustibility of the biblical witness and the richness of the one to whom it testifies. To read in parallel, then, is not merely to decipher exegetical puzzles but to inhabit the spaciousness of the canon and to deepen our awareness of how its symphony of textual refrains converge in the confession that Jesus is both Lord and Christ.

In this sense, the “search for the Christian Bible” that Childs described is not merely an academic pursuit but a lived hermeneutical task. The canon itself summons readers into a discipline of parallel reading where coherence emerges through ongoing engagement with the whole collection. The joyful complexity of this practice is not a problem to be solved but a readerly reality to be embraced. In the end, this canonical dynamic is worth persevering because through it the voice of the living God continues to address the church through the Scriptures.

NB:

• If you’d like to read the full article, it’s open access through the Journal’s website. You can also DM me for a PDF.

• The full issue is edited by OT scholar Josh Williams and features articles on Deuteronomy, the Psalms, the temple account, Mark’s Gospel, and Clement of Alexandria.

Context: I was recently asked to speak at a student organization in our school of Pharmacy. These students are at various places in their education and careers and are training to be experts and practitioners in their field. My remarks are aimed at the interpersonal elements of the workplace and how someone’s personal relationship with Christ might inform and shape those interactions. So, this is targeted to pharmacy students but it was also a chance to consider some of the theological resources that can guide you in any professional context.

Title: Don’t Grow Weary in Doing Good
Key Text: Galatians 5:16–6:10
Big Idea: Your Christian Worldview provides the means and motivation for you to serve others as a person and as a professional.

It’s very easy to absorb the assumption that faith belongs in the private sphere while your profession operates in a neutral, value-free space. In that framework, Christianity becomes something you practice in church or in personal devotion, while your profession is simply technical, clinical, and detached from the network of your deeper convictions.

This strict division between the sacred and the secular is not a biblical category. Your goal should be to push against this as an absolute dichotomy. Scripture does not recognize a version of you that is “spiritual” on Sunday and merely “professional” on Monday. You are one whole person, shaped by one Lord, living before one God in every lecture hall, lab, and pharmacy counter.

The aim is not to keep faith in a separate compartment, but to see that Christ lays claim to every square inch of your life, including your work. Indeed, no part of your life stands outside the authority of Christ.

In this passage from Galatians, Paul reminds us that the Spirit does not merely help you “be religious.” Rather, the Spirit makes you a certain kind of person who then is able to do a certain kind of good.

As a Person: Becoming Who You Already Are in Christ

The world needs Christians who have been made new in Christ, who are learning to walk by the Spirit, and who bring that Spirit-shaped life into ordinary work in ordinary places with ordinary people.

A few reflections on this passage to orient us:

• The distinguishing mark of a new covenant Christian is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit

• Though we often think of the “fruits of the Spirit,” Paul here speaks of the fruit (singular) of the Spirit.

• This means that the means by which you will be able to bear the fruit of the Spirit is the work of the Spirit himself in your life. Spirit-filled life is one that shares the attributes of the Spirit himself & is directed by the Spirit himself

Paul’s command is strikingly simple: “walk by the Spirit” (Gal 5:16).

Important too is what he doesn’t say. He doesn’t say, “Be a good person and you will stop sinning.” He doesn’t say, “Just get more disciplined and you will stop wanting wrong things.” He doesn’t say, “Try harder and you will become loving.”

Instead, he points you to a Person. The person of God the Spirit.

This matters because many of you are high-capacity, high-achievement people. If you’re in this room right now, you have made many accomplishments in your life already. You are no stranger to the grind. You’ve learned how to focus. You know how to get it done (and lock in!). Those qualities are gifts. Those are part of what make you capable of serving in such a demanding profession.

But those gifts can also fool you. They can teach you a subtle falsehood: the lie that if you can do hard things academically, you can also run your Christian life by sheer force.

But Paul insists that the Christian life is lived by the Spirit.

As a contrast, Paul also describes what it means to walk by “the flesh.” When Paul says “flesh,” he’s not talking about the physical body as if the body is bad. He’s talking about fallen human nature, the self turned inward on itself; the me-first instinct that resists God.

And if you want to see the flesh in a pharmacy student’s world, you don’t need a microscope and a full research team, do you?

You can detect the symptoms of someone walking by the flesh in your own life as well: You might see it in comparison; in envy; What about the quiet pride that feels pleasure when someone else stumbles? What about the insecurity that makes you panic when you’re not the best in an exam or in a competitive situation? You can see it in impatience with people in your orbit who slow you down.

One of the times your worldview really starts to show is when you’ve grown weary in a particular task. In this very place, Paul gives us hope. The Spirit is not just a theological concept. The Spirit is the living God at work in you for God’s glory and your good. The Spirit shapes and empowers you for a new kind of life.

So, the integration of your faith and your vocation begins here. If you try to integrate faith with your profession, with pharmacy, all the while living on spiritual fumes, you’ll end up with a Christian label attached to a life that actually runs on anxiety, pride, or fear. But if you learn to walk by the Spirit, you will find that God is shaping you into someone who is both competent in their field and confident in their faith.

I like the metaphor of fruit: Fruit is living. It’s visible. It takes time to grow into fruition. It’s not manufactured by taping apples to a dead tree. We can’t treat the Spirit as a productivity hack that optimizes our relationships. A person who walks in the Spirit must be nourished by the fruit of the Spirit and be comfortable with slow growth.

Notice too that these attributes are ones that are configured toward your interactions with others. The fruit of the Spirit is not mainly for your private quiet time. Rather, it’s for the people in your path.

Love might show up in how you treat the person who irritates you. Patience might show up when a conversation takes longer than you want. Kindness might up when the person in front of you is not nearly as impressive as you are but still needs your help. Self-control might show up when you want to snap back.

What’s more, the ripeness of your spiritual fruit is often tested in some pretty boring places. A group project; a research committee; a lab partner relationship; a repeated interaction with a colleague. It shows up in your tone when you disagree; in your disposition when you respond to stress.

That matters for you now, in your friendships, in your cohort, and in your local church. It also matters because the habits that you build in your training will become the instincts you carry into practice. For example, if your instinct is to protect your image, you might be tempted to hide mistakes. If your instinct is to crush people with words, you could create tension in your team and damage your reputation. If your instinct is to isolate, you will likely burn out faster.

So as a person, one part of integration is letting the Spirit form you into someone who shares his characteristics and attributes. This passage calls you to live by the Spirit, to bear burdens, to restore gently, and to sow seeds that will grow into maturity.

As a Professional: Your good works are for neighbors who are near

But how does who you are as a person relate to who you are as a professional? How does who you are relate to what you do?

Here in Gal 6:7, Paul gives a sober warning: “Do not be deceived.”

Now why would Paul introduce his exhortation like this? I think it’s because we are easily deceived. Our hearts are prone to wander. Like a patient that insists that their bad habits have nothing to do with their recurring preventable ailments.

The warning is followed by a reminder: You are always sowing something.

Paul paints a word picture drawn from the world of agriculture: sowing and reaping. The basic idea is simple and straightforward. Your life is a field. Your daily choices are seeds. Over time, you harvest what you have been planting.

We live in a culture that overestimates what can happen in two years and underestimates what can happen in twenty. Even on a smaller scale, we overestimate what we can do in two weeks and underestimate the effect we can have in two months. We want visible transformation on a short timeline. We want a breakthrough with a dramatic leap rather than slow but steady growth that involves daily steps.

Sowing and reaping assumes time. It assumes patience. It assumes repetition. Think of how absurd it would be if a farmer planted a seed on Monday and and then went to dig it up on Friday to check for progress. Poor guy wouldn’t be a farmer very long. Yet that’s often how we approach growth in our spiritual lives and in our professional formation.

Your life is not shaped mainly by your biggest moments. I think it’s most shaped by your repeated ones.

Every time you choose honesty over image management, you are sowing something. Every time you prepare carefully when no one is watching, you are sowing something. Every time you respond to stress with self-control instead of sharpness, you are sowing something. You may not see the harvest this semester. You may not see it in your first year of practice. But over time, seeds become roots. Roots stabilize you. And that stability allows you to bear fruit.

One author has said that faithfulness can be defined as “long obedience in the same direction.” There is a kind of compound effect to ordinary faithfulness. Small acts of integrity rarely feel impressive. They often feel quite mundane or even trivial (like, how could this matter?!). But these small acts accumulate.

Character is not usually manufactured in a moment of crisis. It’s most often revealed there. At the moment of crisis or interaction, your character is put into action not called into being! Whatever comes out in these moments is whatever is already there.

My favorite example of this is Bamboo plants. For years, certain species appear to show almost no growth at all above the soil. If you didn’t know any better, you might assume that nothing is happening. But underground, a root system is spreading and strengthening. Then, in a short window of time, it shoots up dramatically. To the outside observer, it looks like sudden growth. But it’s not really sudden growth, it’s stored growth. It’s the visible result of an invisible season of preparation.

In the same way, the steady choices you make now are laying down roots. The habit of careful attention. The reflex of gentleness. The discipline of follow-through. The refusal to cut corners. These feel small. But they’re not small. They are forming a root system that will either enhance or hinder your spiritual and professional development.

This should both sober and steady you. It should sober you, because the seeds you plant now will shape the kind of professional and the kind of person you become. But it can also steady you, because faithfulness over time is powerful, even when it feels unimpressive.

What you do today matters. It all matters. And this will always be the case.

So, Paul’s teaching about who we are in Christ and by the Spirit is a reminder that we have both the means and motivation to serve others (as a person and as a professional).

How can you use your career as an opportunity to love your neighbor?

Paul says, “as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone” (Gal 6:10).

This applies to us in our personal lives but it also has a direct connection to your professional life. I think the field of pharmacy is a constant opportunity for tangible good.

In this way, your entire workday is an opportunity. What are you able to do? You can reduce harm and promote safety for someone who needs guidance; help someone understand what’s at stake with a particular medication; protect people from preventable mistakes; to help someone navigate a confusing system without treating them like a nuisance; to treat someone with dignity when they feel ashamed or belittled by their condition or their behavior.

As a believer, you know where your strength in difficult situations comes from. When you counsel a patient, you’re not just transferring information. You’re serving a neighbor. When you double-check something carefully, you are not just being meticulous. You are loving a neighbor by maintaining best practices. When you refuse to treat an annoying person as an interruption (when your patients test your patience), you’re not just being polite. You’re treating them as a fellow creature made in God’s image.

These kinds of opportunities are ongoing and everywhere, and I think that Paul’s reminder is for us not to miss them! These kinds of opportunities are also important to consider as you serve in underrepresented or neglected communities. These are tasks that require your soul to have been nourished beforehand by the fruit of the Spirit. This helps you see that every patient you encounter is an image bearer, whether they know it or not. By the strength of the Spirit, you can see the person standing in front of you as your neighbor.

As believers, good works do not save us. But, because we ourselves have been redeemed, we are set free to work on behalf of others. As Martin Luther noted, “God doesn’t need your good works, but your neighbor does.”

Paul also says, “Bear one another’s burdens” (Gal 6:2).

In your training and in your career, you are in a position to see many people with many burdens. The unnerving thing is that most of these burdens cannot be removed by you or the service that you provide.

You’ll encounter chronic illness that doesn’t go away; mental health struggles that do not resolve quickly; addiction, relapse, and heartbreak; You’ll see foolish choices in young people and abiding loneliness in the elderly. You’ll encounter people who feel trapped in their own lives.

How do you continue to bear one another’s burdens when so much of life weighs yourself down? Though you can’t remove someone’s burdens, you can help them lighten the load where you can. You can also refuse to add to the weight that they are carrying.

What might this look like at the pharmacy counter? Sometimes it might look like a long conversation; or a calm explanation; maybe you help problem-solve a situation where the answer is obvious to you but not them; Maybe it’s telling the truth when someone is asking for an easy lie; As a believer, maybe it looks like praying for a person as they approach or after they leave.

Paul’s concluding exhortation is a good one to leave with: “Don’t grow weary in doing good.”

We need this encouragement because this task is not for the faint at heart!

It can drain you of every ounce of energy at the end of the day. Sometimes those you serve will recognize the love that you show in these ordinary actions. Every once and a while, someone will value your effort. Many times, though, your advocacy and service will be thankless.

If what Paul says in this letter is true, then even your unseen and uncelebrated effort on behalf of others is genuinely seen and valued by the God who called you to it in the first place.

Your Christian Worldview provides the means and motivation for you to serve others as a person and as a professional.

I’ll conclude our time today with this: As a pharmacist, you have an outsized ability to influence the mental state of a person usually in need and often in pain.

In your training now and in your practice, you can strive to be someone who is clearly competent but also genuinely gentle. These qualities form the core of servant leadership.

This is the kind of personal dynamic that will influence your colleagues, that will serve your patients, and that will give you the satisfaction of fulfilling your calling.

May the Lord himself grant us what he himself has demanded of us!

Hello, friends. Here’s a bit of an update. This summer, I worked on a few projects that have been cooking for a while.

Biblical Lament

My biggest project was the manuscript for a book on biblical lament. It’s tentatively titled The Rhythm of Biblical Lament: A Literary and Theological Introduction (with Kregel). I was able to submit the first draft of the manuscript to my editor. So, it still has a ways to go (edits, revisions, and galleys, oh my!), but I’m grateful I was able to submit it as the summer came to a close. If you’re interested, here’s the sneakiest of peaks:

Chapter Titles

Introduction

• Chapter One: What is Biblical Lament?

• Chapter Two: Old Testament Witness to Biblical Lament

• Chapter Three: The Psalms as a Guide for Biblical Lament

• Chapter Four: The Gospels and Messianic Lament

• Chapter Five: The New Testament and the Suffering Church

• Chapter Six: Biblical Lament and Christian Theology

• Chapter Seven: Biblical Lament and the Christian Life

Conclusion and Postscript

Big Idea of the Book

This is essentially the “thesis” that guides the rest of the project:

The big idea of this book is that biblical lament is one of God’s good gifts for individual believers and church communities.

The concept and practice of lament is grounded in the witness of the entire biblical canon, is connected to major themes in Christian theology, and is well-attested in the history of the church. Though sometimes neglected by individual believers and contemporary congregations, the practice of biblical lament is vitally important for the Christian life.

This study makes a cumulative case that the concept of biblical lament is coherent and robust enough to inform exegesis, theology, church history, and the normal Christian life. The rhythm of biblical lament provides the grammar and syntax by which believers are able to articulate a gospel hope in a world marked by suffering and injustice.

Chalcedonian Christology

In 451 AD, theologians at the council of Chalcedon produced a statement that sought to guard the biblical portrayal of Jesus as the Son of God (the “definition of Chalcedon”). Affirming the truth and fittingness of the Nicene (325 AD) and Nicene-Constantinople (381 AD) creeds, they clarified the mystery of the incarnation. Jesus is to be acknowledged as fully human and fully God. His divine and human natures are united in the one person of Jesus Christ, God the Son. In order to guard this truth, the statement lays out four “mighty negatives” that rule out false understandings of who Jesus is. The two natures of Christ are united in his person without confusion, without change, without division, and without separation.

These guardrails are designed to help readers of the NT rightly confess the “one and the same Son, and only begotten, God the Word, the Lord Jesus Christ, as the prophets from the beginning [have declared] concerning him, and the Lord Jesus Christ himself has taught us, and the Creed of the holy Fathers has handed down to us.”

The book will first introduce and explore each of the major affirmations in the definition in an accesible (and brief!) way. Each chapter then shows that these affirmations 1) are drawn from the text of Scripture, and also 2) help us read and understand the depth of these same Scriptures.

The manuscript has been submitted and we are in the process of edits and revisions with the publisher. If you’re interested, I’ll be sharing more details for both of these projects as the end draws near!

The Canonical Approach & the NT

In a more academic vein, I submitted two essays that explore different aspects of the NT canon. First, I’m contributing to a volume tentatively titled, Canonical Criticism and the Interpretation of the New Testament (T&T Clark). My essay is titled: “The Hermeneutical Basis for a Canonical Approach to the New Testament.”

The other essay is for the forthcoming T&T Clark Handbook on the Synoptic Gospels. My essay examines the possibilities and challenges of a canonical approach to the Synoptic Gospels in light of their collection and arrangment in the fourfold Gospel sub-collection. The title is simply, “Canonical Criticism and the Synoptic Gospels.”

I think these volumes should appear sometime next year. A volume that I contributed to a while back has finally been published this Summer as well. It’s from a conference a few years ago at Lanier Theological Library in Houston, TX on the topic of the NT & the authorship of specific books (implications of arguments for or against pseudepigraphy).

My essay is titled, “Bear with this Anonymous Exhortation: The Hermeneutical Effect of Anonymous Authorship for Readers of the New Testament,” in Does it Matter Who Wrote the Bible? ed. David Capes (Wipf & Stock). If you’re interested in reading this, send me a note!

Biblical Theology Reviews

This Spring I reviewed a few BT books for TGC. Stephen Pressley’s excellent book on biblical theology in the early church era. Pressley’s work is also a cumulative case for what he calls “ecclesial biblical theology” (biblical theology in and for the churches). It’s worth picking up for sure. An added bonus is that Pressley is a great storyteller.

I also wrote a reflection on the BT legacy of Geerhardus Vos (specifically, his comprehensive Biblical Theology of the Old and New Testaments). Vos’s work is still relevant today, because many contemporary writers and biblical theologians either draw upon or depart from his approach in hermeneutically significant ways.

Worth noting alongside these is the recent launch of a new “center” for evangelical biblical theology. Started by Richard Blaylock, this website and organization will provide a growing number of resources on biblical theology and hermeneutics.

Textual Community Episodes

I’m about to start releasing new episodes of the Textual Community Podcast for the Fall season. In the Spring, I talked to JR Gilhooly about his new book on angels & demons, Kevin Vanhoozer about “mere Christian hermeneutics,” and Stephen Pressley on his study of BT in the early church. Most recently, I chatted with Sam Bierig and Jared Bumpers on preaching and hermeneutics.

If you want to listen along, you can do so here: linktr.ee/textualcommunity

At any rate, thanks for your interest in my work. My plan is to share some of the content from these projects here in the coming months. So, deo volente and if the creek don’t rise, then you’ll hear from me soon.

In a previous post, I reflected upon the relationship between Christology (the study of Christ) and Soteriology (the study of Salvation). In this post, I want to explore some of the 10k foot choices that affect how we see the landscape of this area of theology.

The study of Christology is like climbing a towering mountain, or perhaps better, a long line of mountain ranges. To make a trek like this, we have to do some preliminary planning and mark our route on a methodological map. With the proper coordinates locked in place, we are ready to venture into deep theological territory.

So, where do we start?

When thinking about possible starting points for studying Christ, there are a few angles that we can consider. While there are goldmines of information that are involved in looking along each of these angles, here I want to just sketch the outlines of these lines of sight.

Christology from Above:

This approach starts with the idea that Jesus is divine and then works toward his humanity: Jesus was God, so how can he be a human? This angle starts by presupposing Jesus’ deity.

In historical-critical circles, this approach is rejected already before leaving base camp. Historians pursuing a secular historiography of the ancient world typically make a distinction between the “Christ of faith” and the “Jesus of history.” The savior who claimed to be God, they say, is “the Christ of faith” and is rooted not in historical reality but in the preaching of the early church. For this historical-critical approach, the assertions of the NT and the early church cannot be proved but only believed.

For evangelicals who believe in the authority of the Scriptures, the Christology from Above angle is just that, an angle that you can use to begin your study of Jesus. You begin with an emphasis on his deity. You might begin thinking of Jesus as the Word who was with God before the world began (John 1:1).

Christology from Below:

Instead of beginning with a focus on his deity, this approach begins by presupposing Christ’s humanity: Jesus was a human man, so how could he be God?

For historical-critical scholars, this approach focuses only on the events in Jesus’ life that can be verified historically (e.g., “Jesus taught his disciples by the sea”). Here, the “Jesus of history” is prioritized over against the “Christ of faith.” The Gospels and the NT are then excavated for information that might be used to reconstruct "what really happened" during Jesus's ministry and the history of early Christianity.

Again, for evangelicals, the Christology from Below angle is a way of emphasizing that Jesus was indeed human as well as divine. You might begin thinking here of the narratives of Jesus’ birth and the accounts of his human activity and ministry (he grew tired, he slept, he was hungry, etc).

Both of these angles can be helpful in our study of Christology, and we should consider both of these ways of emphasizing different aspects of Jesus’ person. However, one of the features of both of these “angles” is that they typically begin their study of Jesus with the events depicted in the NT and the proclamation of those events in the preaching of the apostles.

At first, this seems entirely reasonable. After all, it is in the Gospels that we hear about Christ for the first time.

Or is it?

Christology from the Beginning:
Recovering a Canonical Christology

While both the Christology from Above angle and the Christology from Below angles are important, there is also another angle worth considering as a primary starting point for our study of Christ, call it a Christology from the Beginning.

This approach begins the study of Christ not necessarily with the Gospels but where the Gospels themselves point. A “canonical” Christology begins where the gospel itself begins, “In the Beginning.” The grammar and syntax of the NT’s assertions and discussions about Jesus are drawn from the texts, theology, and grand storyline of the OT.

The OT is the most important background for the study of Jesus in the NT (and is thus critically significant for a study of Christology). When thinking about who Jesus was, we should include the whole of the OT in our investigation.

Much of the NT would be inexplicable without the narratives, theology, and overall textual context of the OT. The whole of the NT seeks to understand the life and ministry of Jesus in relation to the textual world of the promises, stories, and theology of the OT. In the NT, there are many phrases and styles of writing that are reflections of a deep saturation in the writings and promises of the OT.

In other words, when the NT writers want to say something new about Jesus, they use very old words.

Even if we decided to begin only with the NT, we realize that the NT writers themselves do not start there. How far can you get into the NT without a working knowledge of the OT?

“The book of the genealogies of Jesus Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham” (Matt 1:1).

The first sentence of the NT canon is inscrutable apart from the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings:

• The “book of the genealogies of Jesus” reminds us of the “book of the generations of Adam” from Gen 5:1.

• The term “Christ” draws on the Messianic tapestry found in texts like Psalm 2 and Daniel 7-9.

• The “son of David” taps into a host of expectations that are concentrated in the Prophets.

• And the “son of Abraham” refers to the earliest stream of covenant promises that begin early in the book of Genesis!

This is a staggering amount of OT here, and we’re only a single sentence into the NT (16 words in English, only 8 in Greek!).

When you start to read the Gospels, you realize that you’re starting in the middle of the story. You’ve been dropped into the middle of the action! The NT story about Jesus begins “in the beginning” (Jn 1:1).

This emphasis is not simply a vague appeal to the OT. The NT writers believe that the OT is in fact about Jesus, the Christ. When you are examining the anticipation of the person and work of the Messiah in OT texts, you are not engaging in some sort of provisional prolegomena. Rather, you're already doing Christology. Thinking carefully about the claims of Moses and the Prophets is in fact at the core of NT Christological reflection.

After his resurrection on the Road to Emmaus, Jesus begins “with Moses and all the Prophets” as he explains to them “the things concerning himself in all the Scriptures” (Lk 24:27). Later, Jesus again says to his other disciples, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled” (Lk 24:44). Jesus had already put forth this teaching when he told the Jews, “If you believed Moses, you would believe Me, for he wrote about Me” (Jn 5:46).

Jesus himself taught that the best way to do Christology is from the beginning!

Benefits of a Canonical Christology

In a canonical Christology, you allow the OT witness to the “coming one” to inform your understanding of the NT witness to Jesus (Christology from the Beginning). In your study of the NT, you then emphasize both the humanity (Christology from Below) and deity (Christology from Above) of the God-Man Jesus Christ.

There are several benefits of adopting this multi-pronged approach:

Makes use of the Entire Canon: Understanding Christology “from the beginning” intentionally makes use of the entire canon. It highlights in particular the critical importance of the OT. In this way, we can see Jesus in canonical perspective, from the beginning to the end of the Bible’s grand storyline. Christ is the unifying element in the relationship between the Testaments. Taking this approach allows us to have a “whole Bible” understanding of who Jesus is and what he does.

Starts with Biblical Categories: Taking this approach allows us to begin our thinking about Jesus in biblical terms and with categories that the biblical authors themselves are using when they describe Jesus’ person and work. In the early years after the writing of the NT, it becomes clear that we still need to reflect on these matters further. We continue to think about the nature of what the Bible claims, but it is helpful to begin with a conceptual framework drawn from the biblical texts themselves.

Holds Together Humanity and Deity of Christ: Canonical Christology holds together the humanity and deity of Christ. In this sense, it holds together the “Christology from above” angle and the “Christology from below” angle. Contrary to the claims of historical-critical scholarship, canonical Christology demonstrates that the “Jesus of History” is the “Christ of Faith!” The God-Man is truly human and truly divine. The Jesus we see in the Gospels is the God-Man and the God-Man.

Affirming these realities is an example of “faith seeking understanding.” These are the things we affirm about Jesus based on our reading of the Scriptures. We must also continue to think carefully about these things.

Holds Together the Person and Work of Christ: Canonical Christology also holds together the person and work of Christ. In a way, this is a corollary of the union of Jesus’ humanity and deity. Who Jesus is has an integral relationship to what he does. This is one of the crucial affirmations of Christian theology: His being is connected to his doing. To know Christ is to know his benefits. There is an organic connection here that must never be severed when we study Christology.

To reflect further on the coherence of these connections, we can consider a few scenes in the Gospels. For example, when John the Baptist asks, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” (Matt 11:3), Jesus responds by talking about things he had done: “Go tell John what you hear and see: The blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news proclaimed to them. Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me” (Matt 11:4-6). What he does as healer is connected to who he is as “the one who is to come.”

Jesus makes this clear connection again in John 10:31-39 during a confrontation with the Jewish leaders. As they pick up stones to stone him, Jesus asks, “I have shown you many good works from the Father; for which of them are you going to stone me?” They answer, “It is not for a good work that we are going to stone you but for blasphemy, because you, being a man, make yourself God.”

After quoting a Psalm, Jesus reasons, “If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me; but if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father” (10:37-38).

Here Jesus insists that to recognize his works are from the Father is to recognize that he himself is from the Father. Only one sent from the Father could do the Father’s works in this manner. Jesus himself connects his being to his doing.

These benefits of a canonical Christology are central to a biblically faithful understanding of Jesus. They can also serve as a guide through the terrain of formal and informal study of Jesus's person and work in the academic world and among the churches.

Christian theology has always emphasized the importance of salvation. As the ancient creeds state, Jesus’ person and work are “for us and for our salvation.” While there has clearly been a diversity of opinions on the method of salvation or its ultimate goal, the need for salvation has always been the center of Christian proclamation.

The Need for Salvation: Saved from What?

Saying we need salvation prompts the next question: Saved from what?

People need to be saved from their sin. As the angel tells Joseph, “You shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins” (Matt 1:21). The heart of the problem has always been the heart problem of the people!

The narratives of Gen 1-3 and the writing of Paul in Rom 1-3 clearly show that God created a good place for mankind to worship and obey. However, beginning with Adam and Eve in the garden, humans have always “exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Rom 1:25).

• The Breadth of Sin: According to Scripture, “sin” is a problem that affects all of humanity. The fall narrative in Gen 3 focuses on the beginning of the sin problem, and all other biblical texts assume its universal existence. The entirety of the biblical witness and the entirety of world history demonstrate the universality of sin and its effects.
  

• The Depth of Sin: The biblical witness emphasizes not only the breadth of sin, but also its depth. The depravity of humanity after the fall into sin runs deep. As the Lord says in Jer 17:9, “The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick; who can understand it?” Paul argues further in Rom 8:7 that “the mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so and those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” Earlier in Romans, Paul argues again that “there is none righteous, not even one; there is none who understands; there is none who seeks for God” (Rom 3:10). Paul concludes that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23). As he says again in Ephesians, “And you were dead in your trespasses and sins” (Eph 2:1).

This fundamental reality is where the plan of salvation must start for it to make sense. We need a Savior, because we needed to be saved from sin. We needed a redeemer, because we were in bondage to our sinful desires.

The Gospel of the God-Man Jesus Christ: Saved by Whom?

Connecting the Study of Salvation to the Study of Christ:

One of the major emphases of a study of Christ is that the person of Christ is the second person of the Trinity, the Word, the Son of God. God the Son existed before the world began, and He is the one who comes to save his people from their sins. This is another way to think of salvation “from the beginning.” This is the “long view” of the good news of the gospel.

The logic of this long view of the gospel story helps make sense of the way the Bible talks about Jesus’ work as the Messianic savior of the world. Jesus, who was on high, comes low to the earth, makes atonement, and then returns to glory. These are the “stages” of his work.

Stages of Christ’s Work: Humiliation and Exaltation

The “stages” of Christ’s work involve the temporal sequence of what his Messianic mission entailed. We could think of each movement as a series of steps. The “savior came from Glory,” and these are some of the mile-markers on that redemptive journey.

• Eternal Exaltation: From the beginning, the Son of God enjoyed perfect fellowship with God the Father and God the Spirit in eternity past. Because the Son shares the divine nature with the Father and the Spirit, the Son is co-eternal and is equally exalted. Affirming this prior exalted state is crucial to rightly understanding the theological significance of God's plan of redemption.

• Temporary Humiliation: Because God the Son is sent by the Father to live and die as a man, the incarnation is known as the Son's temporary state of humiliation. In his incarnation, we see Jesus humble himself to be born into this world. He lives among us. He eats with sinners. He associates with the lowly. He washes his disciples’ feet. He experiences all kinds of pain, misery, and injustice. He suffers, dies, and is buried. This is the lowest point of his work.
  

• Restoration of Exaltation: On the third day after his crucifixion, Jesus rises from the dead. This monumental event demonstrates for all time to all peoples that he truly is the “resurrection and the life.” He rises from the dead, and he also ascends into heaven, and sits down at the Father’s right hand. Thus, from the lowest possible point of death, Jesus is raised to the highest possible point of life in the Father’s presence on high.

These stages of Jesus’ work can be seen in a number of key texts. For example, in the servant song of Isaiah 52:13-53:12, the Messiah was the exalted one (52:13), but he was brought low and suffered on behalf of his people (53:1-10). After his suffering, though, he is exalted and “the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand” and his “soul shall see and be satisfied” (53:10-11).

Paul picks up on this pattern when he describes the work of Christ to the Philippians. Paul notes that “though he was in the form of God” Jesus did not “count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of man” (2:6-7). Just as the Messiah of Isa 53, Jesus humbles himself “by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (2:8).

It is at this point that the pattern shifts. Because of this humiliation, “God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name” (2:9). The reward of Jesus’ suffering is that salvation has been accomplished and that his name (Jesus!) is shown to be worthy of absolute worship:

At the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father (Phil 2:10-11).

When we hold both the humiliation and exaltation of Christ together, we see an image of an inconceivable exchange. Seeing this pattern of exaltation-humiliation-exaltation helps us see what’s at stake in the incarnation. That the Word became flesh and dwelt among us is perhaps the most startling mystery we can contemplate in the task of theology.

His Being is connected to His Doing

As we move into a direct discussion of Jesus’ work “for us and for our salvation,” it is important to keep our discussion of salvation grounded in our study of Christology. The work of Christ is not to be separated from the person of Christ.

There are four great passages in the New Testament that exalt both the person and the work of Christ. Equipped with our study of Christology and the stages of Christ’s work, we can catch the full force that we find in these passages.

Because they are so rich with Christological meaning, they are sometimes called the “Christ Hymns” of the New Testament. These are also texts that demonstrate the absolute necessity of having a canonical Christology.

They are like Christological force fields, where a biblical writer hits the slow-motion button and digs down as deep as he can take us into the character and mission of Jesus.

• John 1:1-18, The Word that became flesh

• Phil 2:5-11, The Servant that emptied himself and was exalted

• Col 1:15-23, The Image of the invisible God who dwells in bodily form

• Heb 1:1-4, The Son who made purification for sins

In each of these passages, the author expounds on Jesus’ person and work. Each one clearly demonstrates that Jesus’ being is connected to his doing.

The work of Christ in his sacrificial death is the “hinge” or the climactic turning point of each of the “Christ Hymns.”

Only because Jesus was who he was is he able to do what he did.

These four passages are worth reading, studying, memorizing, and contemplating. They are windows into the grand sweep of the divine economy.

They hold together concepts and affirmations that we sometimes allow to drift apart.

They illustrate the way that Jesus's being is connected to this doing.

That his person and work are inextricably linked.

That his exaltation is not an introduction to something that he had never experienced but rather a return to something that was rightfully his!

As Jesus says before his death, "And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed" (Jn 17:5).

The writer of Hebrews also communicates these theological truths as he blends Christology and Soteriology in his exposition of the stunning mystery of the incarnation (Heb 2:9–10):

But we see him who for a little while was made lower than the angels, namely Jesus, crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation perfect through suffering.

My Little BT Book

It’s been three months since One Grand Story came out. Thank you to those of you who have ordered it, read it, reviewed it, or even looked at it! In some ways, I feel like I put more of myself into this one than any others. This could simply be recency bias or because of the more personal final three chapters, but this little book is perhaps my best shot at an accessible orientation to what the Bible is and how it works. I’m proud of it so I’m glad that it’s now finished and available.

If you want to help me out, consider ordering, rating, or reviewing it on amazon or goodreads. Many thanks!

Journal Article: Two Testaments to Tell

My recent journal article with Journal of Theological Interpretation is also now out in the December issue. In this piece, I make an argument for a canonical approach to the discipline of biblical theology (abstract is above). This approach is not overdetermined, so it is able to accommodate several organizing principles in biblical theology (that are sometimes played off of one another). I love the Theological Interpretation discussion and this journal in particular, so I was really happy to be able to publish this article with them. If you don’t have access & want to read it, DM me!

Textual Community Episodes

I’m about to start releasing new episodes of the Textual Community Podcast for the Spring run. The last few episodes have been personally edifying to me. In September, I spoke with Brandon Smith about (what else?!) the Trinity and premodern hermeneutics. A few weeks ago, I also spoke with Christopher Seitz about his new little book on Job, the Psalms, and the theme of God as Creator.

If you want to listen along, you can do so here: linktr.ee/textualcommunity

Book Awards Blurb

A few months ago, I was one of the judges for the theology/academic category for the Book Awards for Christianity Today. Vanhoozer’s Mere Hermeneutics was selected as the winner, and they used my comments for the award posting. If you haven’t read KJV’s book, it’s worth working through. It will take a bit for most to realize how significant his proposal is. It’s vying for my favorite Vanhoozer book at the moment:

2025 Projects?

A few of the things cooking for this year include:

• An essay for a forthcoming T&T Clark volume on the New Testament and the Canonical Approach. There will be several essays arguing for the value of a canonical approach to NT interpretation alongside several essays raising cautions about such an approach. My essay is tentatively title, “The Hermeneutical Basis for a Canonical Approach to the New Testament.”

• I’m also contributing an essay in a forthcoming Handbook on the Synoptic Gospels (also with T&T Clark). My entry will be on “Canonical Criticism and the Synoptic Gospels,” describing some of the insights that result from reading Matthew, Mark, and Luke alongside one another.

• My big project for the year is a book on biblical lament, tentatively title The Rhythm of Biblical Lament: A Theological and Practical Introduction. More on this later!

• I’m also coauthoring a book on Christology that shows how the theological categories articulated at the Council of Chalcedon can help us confess Christ and read the Gospels.

Deo Volente & if the creek don’t rise, these are what I’ll be working on this year.

If you’re reading this and have something you’re working on this year (a sermon series? an article, book, a post series, a tweet, an email? a painting? a poem? etc!), I’d love to hear about it (share it in the comments!)

Doom Scrolling & the Return of the Kingdom

In a world captivated by the 24-hour news cycle and the latest political drama, it’s easy to get swept up in the whirlwind of power plays. We place our hopes in elections, pin our dreams on political leaders, and participate in endless debates about proper policies and competing visions of Christian cultural engagement. Too often we lose sight of the King and his coming kingdom.

This is how I began a recent reflection on Stephen Dempster’s new book, Return of the Kingdom, a biblical theology of God’s reign across the biblical canon. In this book, Dempster explores the grand narrative of God’s sovereign rule over a kingdom that has been unfolding since the beginning of time and that will continue long after the political landscapes of our age have faded. Dempster offers a biblical-theological antidote to a culture that oscillates between alarmism and cold-hearted indifference. That antidote requires focusing on the biblical narrative, which tells how “the world awaits the return of the kingdom of God, and its rightful heirs—human beings crowned with glory and honor” (4).

The review was posted at TGC on Nov 5 and was probably the most momentous thing that happened last Tuesday, as people across the nation stayed up into the night reading the review and considering the implications of biblical theology. This sounds right?

At any rate, I really like the way that Dempster develops the theme of the kingdom in obvious and more subtle canonical locations and also the way he applies it to our contemporary mindset. My conclusion for the review focuses on this applied aspect of biblical theology:

 In a world dominated by doom scrolling and information overload, Jesus gives us access to “the newsfeed of the kingdom” (200). This kingdom newsfeed is full of “upside-down headlines” (200). People are oppressed, but there is someone feeding the poor. Leaders are corrupt, but there is someone ministering gospel truth to the lost. Fake news is everywhere, but someone is speaking truth to power and wisdom to the saints. Because Christ is king, the church can be a royal priesthood of believers who are not beholden to the lies of counterfeit kingdoms. 

In the end, biblical theology can ignite and sustain the fire of biblical worship. If this story of God’s kingdom is true, Dempster insists, we can live in peace even as we navigate the weariness of this world. Dempster’s work is a reliable guide that can help us see the greatness of God, the bigness of the Bible’s story, and the life-giving hope that comes from focusing our gaze on the king of glory and his comprehensive kingdom. 

BT at ETS

My brief TGC reflection is also a preview of sorts to what I’m up to at the annual meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in a few weeks. As the chair for the Biblical Theology study group, I’m moderating two sessions. In the second session, we will interact with Dempster himself and discuss his recent work from a variety of angles (OT, NT, & BT).

My presentation will focus on the value of Dempster’s work for teachers and practitioners of biblical theology. First, I will sketch some of the main contours of the discipline of biblical theology and then seek to show how Return of the Kingdom illustrates and participates in the discipline. Another way of articulating my approach is that I’m asking, “What makes Return of the Kingdom a work of biblical theology versus something else?” What are the features of method, assumption, and results that make the characterization of biblical theology fitting for a work like this?

I’m looking forward to this session as our session also intends to celebrate Dempster’s work and honor his wonderful contribution to the discipline of biblical theology (in this work and across his own corpus).

Digital Giveaway of One Grand Story
(via Goodreads)

If you have a Goodreads account, there is currently a giveaway for an opportunity to secure a digital kindle copy of my most recent book, One Grand Story: How the Bible Tells its Story and Why it Matters (Codex Books, 2024).

It doesn’t require much to enter (I believe all that happens when you enter is that the book is listed on your “to read” shelf), it ends Dec 10, and there are 100 copies that will be given away on that ending date (Goodreads will automatically select & deliver a copy to the Kindle accounts of those that are randomly selected).

Thanks for reading!

This little book on the Bible’s grand storyline that I mentioned a little while ago is now out!

You can order it now as a paperback or in kindle format.

About the Book

Title: One Grand Story: How the Bible Tells its Story and Why It Matters
Series: Primers in Biblical and Theological Studies
Author: Ched Spellman 
Publisher: Codex Books, 2024
List Price: $14.99 | $9.99
Binding: paperback (amz) & digital (kindle)
Pages: 180

As a primer on the discipline of biblical theology, it examines the Bible's message as a whole alongside some of the most important tools that help us discern and display this richly rewarding truth.

It includes a framework for biblical theology, an introduction to specific reading strategies, and also a series of biblical-theological reflections on key biblical themes. 

In the final part of the book, there is an annotated list of books for further reading, a series of topics for further research in the academic discipline of biblical theology, and a brief glossary of key terms.

These final features of the book are designed for it to function well as a supplementary textbook in an academic course in biblical or theological studies. At the end of each chapter, there are also reflection prompts and discussion questions. This resource is designed to facilitate small group discussion (either in a church or a classroom setting).

Endorsements | Reviews

“This new book on biblical theology hits the spot; actually, it hits the bullseye of two seldom achieved targets. Ched Spellman beautifully, accurately, and simply answers the two key questions: what? And so what? What does the believer need to know about God and his purposes for this world, and how does this make all the difference to how we live? Too often, only the first question is addressed. Spellman does not make this mistake. The result is a helpful book that will promote the importance and relevance of biblical theology to a new generation of readers.”

—Gregory Goswell, Academic Dean and Lecturer in Old Testament, Christ College

“Spellman leaves the introductory reader in biblical theology spellbound. No word of a lie! He has an amazing gift for simplifying complex concepts. For anyone interested in going deeper into the Scriptures and seeking to understand the big picture as it is developed over the many small pictures provided by the text, for those who are interested in moving out of the trees of the forest to see the forest itself, this book is a real eye-opener. It comes with a practical guide to Christian living in light of the major biblical theology events and also includes a helpful resource for further study. Highly recommended!”

—Stephen G. Dempster, Emeritus Professor of Religious Studies, Crandall University

“Ched Spellman takes us on a fascinating fast-paced tour of biblical theology. He shows us what biblical theology is and why it matters by providing introductory chapters on the nature of biblical theology and by giving us representative examples of biblical theology at work. A pastoral spirit shines throughout the book, which also has a helpful bibliography of works to consult for further study. A helpful resource for students, teachers, and laypeople.” 

—Thomas R. Schreiner, professor of biblical theology, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary

From History to Hermeneutics

This book is a follow up of sorts to One Holy Book: How the Bible Came to Be and Why It Matters. In One Holy Book, I explored the historical question about how the Bible formed. In this new book I’m focusing on the hermeneutical question about how the Bible functions for readers. Here I pursue questions like, What is the big idea of the Bible as a whole? How do we grasp the grand storyline of the Bible? How do the many parts relate to the broader big picture? How does the message of the Bible relate to your Christian life?

At any rate, if you have any questions about the book, let me know.

Thanks for reading!

Fellow biblical theologians,

I’m looking for some readers to help me with the “launch” of my new little book on biblical theology. If you’re subscribed here, you’ve read bits and pieces of it already! I’ll be sharing a little more about the book soon, but I wanted to let you know about a chance to get it that you might be interested in.

Here’s the offer:

• What’s the get?
  
  Answer: A free copy of my new book, One Grand Story: How the Bible Tells its Story and Why It Matters. It will be available in both print and digital formats, but this offer is for the print copy.
  
  It’s a follow up of sorts to One Holy Book: How the Bible Came to Be and Why It Matters. In One Holy Book, I explored the historical question about how the Bible formed and in this new book I’m focusing on the hermeneutical question about how the Bible functions for readers. What is the big idea? How do we grasp the grand storyline of the Bible? How does it relate to your Christian life?
  

• What’s the ask?
  
  Answer: A simple review/rating on Amazon.com and/or Goodreads (both would be most appreciated) after you receive and read the book.
  
  This could be as short as a single word/sentence or as lengthy as a Shakespearean soliloquy! (somewhere in between would be the target)

How to participate:

Sign up here & we’ll send you a copy of the book! Depending on the timing, you’ll receive your copy either before or right after the book officially releases.

If you know of anyone who might be interested in this, feel free to send them the link to sign-up. The space for this initial offer has a limit, but if the form is still open, then this offer is still available!

At any rate, thanks for reading!

Update: Thanks for the responses! The offer is closed now, but I’ll let you know if it re-opens.

“Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” (Lk 24:32).

The post-resurrection scene in Luke 24 is a locus classicus for the belief that the OT Scriptures testify to the person and work of Jesus as the Christ. For the task of BT, this scene is rife with relevance.

Here the risen Christ engages his own disciples about the meaning of his incarnate life, death, and resurrection by referring to the message of the Hebrew Bible as a whole (Lk 24:27, 44). He later appears to them again, clarifies the gospel message that they are being called to proclaim among the nations by the power of the Spirit, and then ascends into the heavens (24:44–53).

Before this, though, Luke allows the scene to linger on Jesus’s initial encounter with the two disciples walking along the road to Emmaus. With intense theo-dramatic irony, Jesus prompts them to speak of “all that had happened in Jerusalem” these past few days. This hermeneutical trek through the OT ends as evening descends and they turn in for the night at Emmaus.

As they begin their evening meal, Jesus blessed the bread, broke it, and handed it to the disciples. At this moment, Luke recounts that “their eyes were opened, and they recognized him” (24:31). In that moment of recognition, Jesus disappears from their sight, and they are left to mull over his words and marvel at his recent presence in their midst.  

In addition to biblical studies, this scene has a rich reception history in world of art. The supper at Emmaus is not the most frequently depicted biblical scene but it has captured the imagination of some of the most well-known artists across different periods of art history. Several artists also returned to this scene at different stages of their career.

For example, the Italian painter Caravaggio twice envisioned the moment of Christ’s revelation of himself to his disciples at the breaking of bread at the table. This is perhaps one of the most famous Emmaus paintings and it graces the covers of many works of biblical theology (Caravaggio’s Emmaus is to biblical theology what Rublev’s three visitors are to Trinitarian theology).

In his first painting (Supper at Emmaus, 1601), the colors are vibrant, the table meal is fresh and full, and the scene emphasizes the dramatic and discombobulating moment when Jesus’s identity dawns on the amazed disciples. Christ is at the center, blessing the bread with one hand and with the other reaches out almost toward the viewer. There is also an open seat at the table that is like a visual invitation to join the scene and consider the identity of Jesus as the resurrected Lord.

In his second painting (Supper at Emmaus, 1606), the tone is considerably darkened, the table and meal are much more sparse, and the features of Jesus and the disciples are more rugged and gritty (showing the details of age and almost conveying weariness). Whereas the first seems to emphasize the brilliant shock of the moment, the second draws the viewer into the Christological denouement with a sober and understated approach.

The Dutch Rembrandt also painted this scene multiple times in his lifetime. His first has a simple setting with Jesus’s figure on the right side of the canvas being illuminated from behind by candlelight (Supper at Emmaus, 1629). One disciple is in the light and leaning away from Christ in shock, and the other is fully in the shadow bowing at Jesus’s feet after falling out of his chair.

About twenty years later, Rembrandt returned to this scene in a more well-known work (The Supper at Emmaus, 1648, which now hangs at The Louvre). In this version, the perspective has shifted, and Jesus is now at the center of the table. The room is brighter from window light and a halo-like radiance flows from behind Jesus’s head as he begins to break the bread. The table in front of Jesus has also been cleared and the bright white tablecloth is reminiscent of the ceremonial setting of the Eucharist.

In their repeated treatment of this scene, both of these painters utilize techniques of shadow, light, tone, and color to convey a range of interpretive emphases. Caravaggio shifted from vibrant features to understated elements. Rembrandt moved from a simple atmosphere to an almost sanctuary-like setting. 

With these two kinds of depictions, perhaps these artists wanted to explore both the joy and cost of discipleship. Sometimes lavish, sometimes sparse. Feast and famine. The freshness of insight alongside the fatigue of endurance. The revelation of Christ and the realization of the cross. In this sometimes confusing human condition, Christ still beckons you to join him at the table. Taste and see.

One of my favorite paintings of this scene is less well-known but nevertheless a significant entry in the reception history of this theologically rich table scene. In the middle of his career, American painter Henry Ossawa Tanner (1859–1937) envisioned this scene with similarities and key differences to the works by other artists (The Pilgrims at Emmaus, 1905).

Tanner’s mother was a former slave, and his father was a minister and abolitionist. Tanner himself overcame racism that hindered his education as a student and went on to become the first African American artist to gain international acclaim (especially in France).

Perhaps from the influence of his father, as he approached middle-age, Tanner rededicated himself to the Christian life and began to focus his art on biblical scenes (some of his most well-known paintings are The Resurrection of Lazarus, 1898 and the Annunciation, 1898).

In his Emmaus painting, Tanner calls the disciples “pilgrims” and gives the scene a quiet and warm atmosphere. The table is bright white with the bread and a plate of fruit clearly visible. Tanner is known for his experiments with the depiction of light, and here the room is dim with dark shadows beneath the table and around the room. Because Jesus and the two disciples are dressed in dark clothes, the white tablecloth on Jesus’s side of the table is particularly bright.

A warm light is emanating from Jesus’s face and hands as the scene captures the moment of blessing the bread. Jesus’s face is radiant with an uplifted gaze, but you can still see the lines on his face and the scruff of his facial hair. The warm light from Jesus is reflected in the faces of the two disciples who look as if they are in the seconds directly before identity of the risen Christ dawns on them.   

As Caravaggio and Rembrandt had done before him, Tanner memorably illustrates Luke’s narrative portrayal of a scene that marks the beginning of a new covenant era of the life of faith and ecclesial fellowship. These artistic attempts to capture the brilliance of Christ’s revelation and the shock of its reception among his disciples put the vibrant dynamic of Christian discipleship on full display.

In their central task, biblical theologians are like artists who read and reflect on the meaning of individual passages and the message of the biblical canon as a whole. They then attempt to portray the unchanging truth of this unbreakable word in creative ways that help us see the literary beauty, the theological depth, and the shimmering brilliance of these sacred texts.

This is why the task of biblical theology will last until the end of days and require a great cloud of witnesses. We need sketch artists, casual painters, masters of technique and style, amateurs making stick figures, and children drawing in the sand. We need sidewalk chalk, booths at the bazaar, satellite imagery, drone footage, exhibits in the museum, and formal portraits in the national gallery. However talented and competent a work of art might be, the grand storyline God’s work in the world will never be captured by a lone virtuoso.

It requires an army of artists. So join up. Get to work with whatever tools you have.

Keep painting your little piece in the mosaic of the story God is calling into being.

In Luke 22:45, Luke describes the disciples in the garden as having fallen asleep because they were “exhausted from sorrow.” This picture of sorrowful exhaustion illustrates the disposition of so many of us in the midst of storms of suffering.

When you experience hardship, life often seems marred by sorrow and even incapable of producing joy. In these moments, it does not seem to be what is best for us, but what is worst for us. There are days when your current season of trial seems like the deepest darkness imaginable, where you desperately try to make sense of your surroundings in a constant state of stumbling over yourself.

However, this perception of darkness is not the final word on our suffering. These sorrows do not have ultimate staying power. There is a future time following the persistent pain and the immediacy of affliction. Though the present is perilous, the afterwards is on the horizon.

Though the world we live in is full of pain, there have been hints that a day is coming when all will be made right. We have heard rumors of another world.

Toward the end of Hebrews 12, readers are given a glimpse of the final destination of the race that they are running: the heavenly kingdom (12:18-24). And entering into the kingdom means entering into the presence of the King. The peaceful fruit of righteousness is the kind of reward that is enjoyed at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

Christ, who is our hope, suffered and made the ultimate sacrifice, and one day his scream will change its tone. On that day, the “Lord himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first” (1 Thess 4:16).

Rather than closing their eyes to the pain around them, believers have been granted the prospect of a different line of sight. A believer is someone who endures in this life by “looking for the blessed hope and the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior, Christ Jesus” (Titus 2:13). If you suffer in this world as sons and daughters of God, hold on, Hope is coming, and he will make all things right.  

Toward the end of the vision he sees in the book of Revelation, John is shown a foretaste of this coming day. He recounts, “Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth” (Rev 21:1).  He also sees “the holy city, new Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God, made ready as a bride adorned for her husband” (21:2). He then hears a “loud voice from the throne” which declares, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them” (21:3).

In a recognition of the pain and suffering that has taken place between the Garden of Eden and the New Jerusalem, John is told that God himself “will wipe away every tear from their eyes” and “there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying or pain” (21:4). This scene provides a picture of the fulfillment of the new covenant. God and mankind have been reconciled, sins have been forgiven, pain is no more, and the curse has been reversed. In short, paradise has been restored.

This vision John sees on the Island of Patmos is drawn from a prophetic vision of this recreation in the book of Isaiah. There the Lord declares, “Behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things will not be remembered or come to mind” (Isa 65:17). This promise of things to come should cause us to “be glad and rejoice forever” in what the Lord creates (65:18). The Lord himself will “rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad in [his] people.” On this day, the effects of suffering will be silenced, for “the voice of weeping” and the “sound of crying” will “no longer be heard” (65:19).

Ours is a world where parents have to bury their newborn children, where sons have to bury their middle-aged fathers, and where friends have to bury the companions of their youth. But on that day, “no longer” will there be “an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his days” (65:20). Then the children of the Lord “will not labor in vain, or bear children for calamity,” but the offspring of the Lord will be blessed, as the lion lies down with the lamb and all is made right (65:23).

Though the race set before us is long and strewn with suffering, one day the weary runners will lift up their heads to hear him “who sits on the throne” say, “Behold, I am making all things new” (Rev 21:5). On that day, as the finish line comes into sight, the race will be finished, and “the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end” will once again say, “It is done” (21:6).

Not only has Jesus gone before us, he also stands at the finish line. Looking forward to this future reality is the transformative gift that Christian hope offers to hurting believers.

The readers of Hebrews were striving to persevere in the midst of suffering. One of the purposes of Heb 12:3-11 is to encourage them in this situation to press on in the faith. These believers had forgotten key truths that had the ability to sustain them. They had forgotten something about their past: Christ has gone before them (12:3-4). They had forgotten something about their future: the peaceful fruit of righteousness (12:11). And they had forgotten something about their present struggle: God is dealing with them as his children (12:5-10). The writer addresses this theological amnesia directly by pointing his readers to Jesus, the one who suffered on their behalf.

The same exhortation should still carry weight for biblical readers, and our primary response should be the same as well. The writer has given us two commands in this passage: to consider him and to endure hardship. We can see the relationship between the two by reversing their order. We can only endure hardship by considering him. 

As we consider Christ, we must never forget to remember the exhortation that God has given us in Heb 12:3-11. Remember something about your past: Christ has gone before you. Remember something about your future: the peaceful fruit of righteousness. Remember something about your current suffering: God deals with you as sons and daughters.

This is a word you will never want to forget. You will want to have these words woven deep into the fabric of your being, so that when the pain of suffering begins to throb, it will do so to the rhythm of the Gospel proclamation: You are his, and you can suffer in his arms.  

 In the end, remember that the Bible presents to us a God who beckons in the midst of pain, “Be still, my child, and cling to your redeemer.”

Note: This is adapted from the closing section from a section of a journal article, “When Hope Screams: Learning How to Suffer as Sons from the Book of Hebrews.” If you would like to read the whole article itself, see here.

Hope in the New Testament is often connected to the resurrection and the life that is found as a result of being “in Christ.”

This hope is not simply a vague and wishful longing for a better future, but rather is rooted in the certainty of God’s character and his plan of redemption.

Just as Christian hope is only found in Him, in a real sense, it ultimately is Him. Hope at the most profound level is not an abstract concept but a living person.

In the Old Testament, the notion of hope is closely associated with the Lord himself. Yahweh is the “Hope of Israel” (Jer 14:8; 17:13; 50:7), and the foundation of the worship of God’s people is the hope found only in the Lord. In his letters to the churches, Paul makes a similar identification. In Col 1:27, he explains that “God willed to make known” to his saints “the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” As he begins his first letter to Timothy, Paul makes this equation in simple and startling terms. He asserts that he is an “apostle of Christ Jesus according to the commandment of God our Savior, and of Christ Jesus, who is our hope” (1 Tim 1:1).

The highest hope of a believer is Jesus himself. Thus, holding on to hope involves clinging to the promises and person of Christ.1

Jesus is our Hope, and one day Hope screamed. The fact that Jesus suffered throughout his life is not something that we tend to think about or dwell upon. Our tradition sometimes even intentionally obscures this element of Jesus’ humanity.

The passion of Jesus begins at his birth. The “little Lord Jesus” did in fact lay down “his sweet head” away in a Bethlehem manger, but the “little Lord Jesus” who “no crying he makes” is a Jesus who never existed. Rather, Jesus drew his first breath among a people who would ultimately put him to death. As John says in the prologue to his Gospel, Jesus is one who came to his own, and his own did not receive him (John 1:11).

As a small child, Jesus fled from forces that sought to murder him, and years later he stood before a court of his kinsmen who handed him over to a Roman ruler on trumped up charges of treason. He grew in “wisdom and stature” (Lk 2:52) and into a “man of sorrows” who was “well acquainted with grief” (Isa 53:3). As he tells his disciples at key points in his ministry, the “Son of Man is going to suffer” (Matt 17:12).

Throughout the Gospel narratives, Jesus experiences and speaks about his own suffering. As the Gospels progress, they move steadily toward the consummation of Jesus’ suffering in Jerusalem. Luke in particular highlights the high cost of this journey toward the cross.

On the mount of transfiguration, Moses and Elijah speak with Jesus about “His departure which He was about to accomplish in Jerusalem” (Lk 9:31). Soon after this, Luke records that “when the days were approaching for His ascension, He was determined to go to Jerusalem” (Lk 9:51). Until they get there, Luke takes pains to chart the progress of this journey, as discipleship takes place “on the way.”

As they press forward, the disciples frequently fail to understand that Jesus journeys toward Jerusalem for the purpose of humiliation rather than exaltation. Jesus warns them that “the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected . . . and be killed and be raised up on the third day” (Lk 9:22).

Later, he gravely states, “Let these words sink into your ears; for the Son of Man is going to be delivered into the hands of men” (Lk 9:44). Luke makes it crystal clear that as Jesus heads to Jerusalem, he heads also to the cross.

As this final journey ends, the humiliation of Jesus’ incarnation reaches an apex on a hill outside the city. There the “King of the Jews” replaces the crown he had lain aside in Bethlehem with one made of thorns. Though severe and horrifying, the physical suffering of Jesus was only one element of his passion.

The biblical writers take care to emphasize also that Jesus was bearing the full wrath of a holy God. Through his work on the cross, Jesus redeems a rebellious people and fulfills the purpose for which he came, to “save his people from their sins” (Matt 1:21). These physical and spiritual elements converge on the cross, as Jesus accomplishes his ultimate mission on earth.

All of the Gospel writers note the meaning and intensity of these final moments of Jesus’ crucifixion. Mark records that “Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed His last” (Mk 15:37).2 His last words were loud and agonized.

His final breath was a scream.

My daughter Hope is precious, at least in my eyes. This utterly biased perspective is probably true of most Fathers. There are times when my whole world stops and zeroes in on her toothy grin, or her cackling laugh.

Especially when she’s walking outside (she loves being outside) and turns to look at me with her hand outstretched for me to hold. Or when she scampers over to give me a hug when I walk through the door. Or when she lays her head on my shoulder when she’s exhausted after a long day.

When Hope laughs, smiles, or grins, life is good and all the world seems right.

But, when Hope screams, that whole world seems to come unhinged. Aside from having a spirited disposition, she is also quite capable of emptying her lungs and filling a room with piercing volume. After only a short while of this screeching intensity, she can work herself up to the point where the original cause of the situation becomes superfluous, as the act itself of being upset perpetuates the pain. Suddenly, my words no longer soothe her sobs, and she no longer finds rest in my arms.

I remember one night in particular. Late into the evening, she woke up with a startling, desperate cry. We were visiting relatives, so for several hours, we attempted in vain to calm her trembling body back to sleep. Though she finally lay back down, we were never able to identify the cause of this particularly acute ordeal. Holding a screaming child who will not be pacified is an unnerving affair.

In these sobering moments, I am forced to reckon with the fact that I am not capable of shielding her from the harsh realities of the fallen world into which she was born. I can do nothing to change the fact that the moment she took her first breath, countless others breathed their last.

Suffering is often as difficult to understand as it is to endure. The burden of sorrow and the weight of suffering are interwoven elements of our lives. Thus, grappling with the gravity of pain in a sin-riddled world is not an optional task. Tragedy, loss, and heartache often carry enough force to shake even the strongest theological foundations.

In the pursuit of faithfulness amidst pain, we are not helped by easy answers or superficial articulations of the questions. Though believers have sometimes encouraged one another by diminishing the horror of human pain, the claims of the Gospel are more drastic than that. In Scripture, we hear a voice that speaks to the wounds of worst-case scenarios. Indeed, Christian hope is most needed when life screams.

In attempting to understand the nature of human pain, there are at least three types of suffering that a person might experience. First, someone might experience the just and natural consequences of his or her sin. Second, someone might experience undeserved persecution for faith in Christ. Or, third, someone might experience the effects of living in a fallen world. This last category involves suffering that often seems utterly meaningless.

Though they have divergent origins, all three of these categories convey genuine hardship and represent a challenge to the thought process of a believer. Any Christian response to the problem of pain must be able to account for at least these broad areas.

How should we respond to the myriad of situations that involuntarily bring forth from the depths of who we are the wrenching query, “Where now is my hope?” (Job 17:15).

Note: This is an excerpt from the opening of a journal article, “When Hope Screams: Learning How to Suffer as Sons from the Book of Hebrews.” This reflection will continue in the next post but if you would like to read the whole article itself, see here.

I recently joined Brandon Smith and Stephen Presley on the Church Grammar podcast to discuss the early church theologian Irenaeus and Stephen’s excellent new book on how the early church engaged their cultural context (Cultural Sanctification: Engaging the World Like the Early Church).

Brandon has also recently published a helpful volume on the value of premodern hermeneutics (Taught by God: Ancient Hermeneutics for a Modern Church), so our discussion included Bible reading, the nature of the gospel, and the value of church history as well.

Church Grammar is worth subscribing to for sure.

Listen to the Episode Here:

• Stephen Presley and Ched Spellman on Irenaeus and Christian Cultural Engagement
  
  

I’m working on a chapter on the theological basis for the task of biblical theology. To speak of “redemptive history” requires a theology of both history and redemption. The notion that God is bringing about a plan of salvation for his people requires theological commitments about creation, providence, and covenant (among others!).

Central here to the study of the Bible’s witness to God himself is a theological truth in a Christian theology of revelation: that God is both ultimately incomprehensible and yet graciously knowable.

This reflection reminded me of one of my favorite statements from the second century theologian Irenaeus of Lyons. Late in his massive work, Against Heresies, Irenaeus draws upon the notions of incomprehensibility and knowability.

This an important maneuver in light of who he is seeking to refute: gnostic teachers who prioritized both secret knowledge and also the impossibility of truly knowing anything about the transcendent God(s). He writes:

The Lord taught us that no man is capable of knowing God, unless he be taught of God; that is, that God cannot be known without God. (AH, 4.6.4)

This is the sanctifying dynamic that inescapably engulfs theological discourse. True knowledge of God is beyond our comprehension, but this too is known only through special revelation.

Had God not chosen to reveal himself, we would have no knowledge of him.

The *revelation* of *incomprehensibility* both grounds and governs the possibility + limits of our theological godtalk. Not an intellectual language game but a paradox at the burning core of all theology.

Part of everything God has revealed is that he has not revealed everything about God.

Our theological confidence and discursive efforts are supposed to bend to this economic reality.

Brain breaking though it should seem, the outer reach of incomprehensibility balances the immersion of knowability. This should generate both boldness *and* humility in the theologian.

The two-fold thesis for incomprehensibility & knowability is Deut 29:29:

"The secret things belong to the Lord our God," so this means he keeps secrets and will never be exhaustively known ad extra. This should deeply humble us.

Who among us could speak of the unspeakable?

"But the things that are revealed belong to us and to our children forever," so this means that by grace alone we can trust God's testimony about himself. This should deeply embolden us.

Who among us could refrain from speaking of the one who has given us words to say?

The Christian theologian is tasked with the impossible task: Speak rightly of the one who is ineffable.

His "greatness is unsearchable" (Ps 145:3), the psalmist declares. Now search out his greatness, the psalmist demands.

This is part of the impossibility that the Advent of the Son makes possible.

With an economy of words, the Word has made known the divine economy. He gave men and women of this world the ability to say, “Glory to God in the highest.”

A wondrous gift indeed!

Years ago, I stumbled across a forum where a reply guy was "explaining" to the subreddit thread that Darth Vader's "Be careful not to choke on your aspirations, director" wasn't a pun but a "word play."

First off, Oxford English Dictionary much?

Second, it's not only a pun, it's a double pun!

1. "choke" (metaphorically experience a downfall // physically experience suffocation), and

2.  on your "aspirations" (metaphorically, overreaching ambitions // physically, the breaths that one "aspirates")

Due to the force of Vader's double-coded discourse, I believe we should saber this particular moment in the film (and not sully its interpretation with ignorance of the nature and scope of paronomasia).

Side note: It's usually at this point of my energetic disputation that my wife poses the question, "Is this really worth thinking about?"

QED

Years ago when I was in the early days of my Seminary training, I read a blog post from Carl Trueman (no longer online but titled, “Pride is the True Heresy”).

It was about checking your motives for pursuing theological education and I think about it every so often.

He’s reflecting on Paul’s words to Timothy in 1 Tim 1:5–7:

The aim of our charge is love that issues from a pure heart and a good conscience and a sincere faith. Certain persons, by swerving from these, have wandered away into vain discussion, desiring to be teachers of the law, without understanding either what they are saying or the things about which they make confident assertions.

All of the following excerpts are from Trueman’s article.

Their desire is not to teach but to be teachers

There is an important difference here: their focus is on their own status, not on the words they proclaim. At most, the latter are merely instrumental to getting them status and boosting their careers.

The cult of professor worship is perhaps the most dangerous and reprehensible cult in the theological world. It is no respecter of theological position, afflicting the left just as much as the right.

Nothing so destroys a Christian leader, or his followers, than the mutual flattery involved in the uncritical adulation of a fan-base for a professorial rock star.

How does this happen?

First: There is the fact that the relationship is built on a mutually beneficial dynamic of basic vanity: the professor tells the students how clever they are, despite the limitations of their educational background so far, and the students reciprocate by allowing the professor, magus-like, to introduce them to the wonderful, liberating world of real though. Everyone’s a winner, everyone’s ego gets stroked; everyone feels good about themselves and somewhat superior to those left outside the sacred circle of Gnostic knowledge.

Second: The focus of these groups becomes the professor and then the little group of acolytes, not the gospel or, indeed, proper thinking, scholarship, or anything else for that matter. If they feature at all, they are merely fuel for driving the larger cult of personality.

Often these little cabals become hyper-sensitive about even the slightest perceived criticism of themselves or their chosen leader; but, by way of contrast, they are often extremely free + colorful with the language they use to describe those with whom they disagree.

This violence of language is symptomatic of deeper issues, indicating that it is often, at root, the emotional connection to the professor which drives the subsequent theological conviction rather than the other way around.

This is a constant temptation and danger for the powerful intellect or alpha personality, one that needs to be guarded against at all costs.

Third: The long-term impact is that the views of the particular leader get transmitted to the spheres of influence in which the students themselves progress. This is where the little classroom cults become much more dangerous.

The throwaway comment that a professor makes in a lecture or a pastor makes in some context can come back to haunt the church in unfortunate and unintended ways as admiring students latch on to the words of the coolest profs in town.

And, in an attempt to get a little piece of the magic for themselves, repeat them, exaggerate them, and even misquote them out of context.

This is bad enough when done unintentionally. How much more dangerous is it when swaggering professors go out of their way to cultivate acolytes who go out and do this sort of thing virtually for a living?

If you worship a professor or teacher or pastor, you will come to be like them, warts and all, and probably in an exaggerated way.  That is why so many professorial disciples sound like cheap, lightweight versions of the original.

They are basically idolaters and what you see in their lives and language is the inevitable result of their idolatry.

It is often said that you cannot enter into a pulpit and make yourself look like a great preacher and Christ look like a great savior at one and the same time.

So it is in the classroom, on campus, at conferences: the professor, the theologian, cannot point to the power of the cross and simultaneously encourage a cult of personality. These things simply cannot stand together.

In sum: It is surely vital that the professor not only avoid creating such cults but also actively opposes them as they start to arise around him.  To do less than this is, I fear, to empty the cross of its power and to lead others into idol worship.

Especially in light of the dynamics of social media & the marketing machinery of evangelical scholarship, these comments are timely and incisive.

I think part of the solution is to envision scholarship and your area of study as a field to be cultivated rather than a stage to be built and occupied.