Is John Wesley enough to sustain the tradition he started? What's the difference between studying John Wesley's theology and doing theology as a Wesleyan? How much must Wesleyan theology agree with John Wesley?

Those are the questions up for discussion in this episode of Theology Project. Thomas McCall and Jason Vickers join Matt O'Reilly to discuss how these questions and others are worked out in their new book Love Divine: A Wesleyan Systematic Theology. Along the way, they explore what makes theology distinctly Wesleyan, why the tradition needs constructive theology rather than simply the study of Wesley, and how holy love provides a framework for understanding the Christian faith as a whole.

Love Divine offers a beautiful vision of the Christian faith that builds on the Great Tradition that formed John and Charles Wesley, the Wesley brothers own works, and the major theologians that inherited the Wesleyan tradition.

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Theme music: “Steps” by Anno Domini Beats. Used with permission.

This is one of my most-read essays. I’m pulling it out of the vault for those who’ve joined the community more recently.

As a pastor, I frequently encounter questions about how to understand salvation and grace. The nature and scope of Christ’s saving work are understood in very specific ways in the Wesleyan-Methodist tradition. There are a variety of terms that need to be understood in themselves and in relation to other terms in our larger theology of salvation. The problem has been complicated in that large swaths of Methodism over the last century have embraced the false notion that Methodists don’t actually have a core theology that defines us. Some in the tradition have endorsed theological pluralism and thus perpetuated the idea that you can believe whatever you want and still be Methodist. That, of course, is not true. Methodism actually comes with very specific theological claims and emphases. The difficulty is that those claims and emphases are often misunderstood. One of the crucial tasks for the next Methodism is the recovery of (1) a clear and robust Wesleyan theology in general and (2) a clear and robust Wesleyan understanding of salvation in particular. To that end, here are thirty-five axioms of a Wesleyan understanding of salvation.

1. Salvation encompasses the full work of God to rescue people from sin beginning with the initial drawing of a person prior to conversion (prevenient grace) all the way through to the day Christ returns and raises us from the dead (glorifying grace).

2. The word “salvation” is not interchangeable with “conversion” or “justification”.

3. Conversion and justification are subsets in the larger category of salvation.

4. Sanctification is also a subset in the larger category of salvation.

5. Sanctification is not different from salvation.

6. Every aspect of salvation is a gift given by grace through faith.

7. Grace is not merely God’s divine favor, though it is at least that.

8. Grace is God’s divine power that is able to transform the entire scope of our being.

9. Justification is given by grace through faith.

10. The new birth (or initial sanctification) is given by grace through faith.

11. Ongoing sanctification is given by grace through faith.

12. Justification and sanctification are both part of salvation.

13. The difference between justification and sanctification is that justification is what God does for us and sanctification is what God does in us.

14. Justification is the divine declaration that we are pardoned, that our sins are forgiven, and that God has found in our favor by declaring us righteous for the sake of Christ and on the basis of his atoning work.

15. Sanctification (beginning with the new birth and continuing through the rest of our lives) is God’s work to transform us from people whose lives are characterized by sin to people whose live are characterized by holiness, which means we consistently embody the character of the triune God.

16. Faith is not merely cognitive assent to a set of claims, neither is faith a work that obligates God to do something for us.

17. Faith is trust and reliance on the triune God to do something for us and in us that we cannot do for ourselves.

18. Faith says: I cannot justify or sanctify (i.e., save) myself; therefore, I trust and rely on God in Christ and the Spirit to do that for me and in me.

19. Faith embodied is loyalty, allegiance, and fidelity to the triune God.

20. Faith is the condition of salvation, but faith does not merit salvation.

21. The gift of salvation obligates us to obey God.

22. The indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit enables and empowers us to keep the obligation to obey God.

23. Prevenient (or preceding) grace, justifying grace, and sanctifying grace are not different “types” of grace.

24. Prevenient, justifying, and sanctifying grace mark temporal periods (or seasons) in which we experience one and the same grace in different ways.

25. Prevenient grace is the work of God in Christ through the Spirit to draw us to himself.

26. Justifying grace is the work of God in Christ through the Spirit to forgive us and join us to himself.

27. Sanctifying grace is the work of God in Christ through the Spirit to reproduce his character in us.

28. Since there is no sin that is beyond the reach of God’s grace and because sanctification is a gift of God’s grace received by faith, we may be sanctified entirely.

29. Entire sanctification is not freedom from non-moral imperfections.

30. Entire sanctification is not freedom from the possibility of sin.

31. Entire sanctification is not freedom from temptation.

32. Entire sanctification is not freedom from mistake.

33. Entire sanctification is freedom from inward sinful attitudes and affections.

34. Entire sanctification is freedom from outward sinful behaviors.

35. Glorifying grace is the work of God in Christ through the Spirit to raise our physical bodies from the dead, which is freedom from corruption and mortality.1

More could be said, but that will suffice for now. I highly recommend everyone in the Wesleyan-Methodist tradition read “The Scripture Way of Salvation” by John Wesley. It’s a brief and accessible sermon that provides an overview of our Wesleyan understanding of salvation. In truth, it wouldn’t hurt to read it more than once or even once or twice a year.

Learn More

If you’re interested in more on a Wesleyan theology of salvation, check out my discussion with Bill Ury below. Also, I’ve got an episode of Theology Project releasing soon in which I discuss the difference between Wesley’s theology and Wesleyan theology with Tom McCall and Jason Vickers. So, be sure to subscribe on YouTube or your favorite podcast platform (Apple Podcasts, Spotify).

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1

The Wesleyan tradition has often articulated glorifying grace as something received upon death when a believer enters the intermediate state in the presence of God. The New Testament, however, articulates the experience of “glorfication” in relation to future bodily resurrection, which is God’s gift to those in Christ and which is received at the time of Christ’s return. This is one area where we Wesleyans need to tighten up our understanding of full and complete salvation.

You aren’t especially likely to hear a lot about the doctrine of divine providence in Wesleyan circles. We tend to associate that sort of thing with the various expressions of the Reformed tradition. How does God govern his creation? How meticulous is his involvement? How do we understand human freedom in light of God’s providential oversight of his creation? And if a good God governs all things, why is there so much evil? Chances are you’ve asked these sorts of questions at one point or another. My guess is that you may not yet have read John Wesley on the topic.

Wesley himself lamented how little attention the doctrine of providence has received. Not only is it neglected, it’s also often misunderstood, which is tragic given its critical importance. Here’s Wesley in his own words on the doctrine of providence:

“There is scarce any doctrine in the whole compass of revelation which is of deeper importance than this. And at the same time there is scarce any that is so little regarded, and perhaps so little understood” (“On Divine Providence,” Sermon 67).

Wesley’s sermon “On Divine Providence” probably doesn’t get read as often as others. After all, it’s not in the Standard Sermons. Nevertheless, according to Wesley, this doctrine is one of the most important. Consequently, it deserves our time and attention. It also turns out that the doctrine of providence helps us with some of the most important questions.

Where do we begin?

For Wesley, the doctrine of providence begins with God’s work as creator and sustainer of all that he has made. He articulates a classic understanding of creation out of nothing. That is, everything that is not God has been brought into being by God. This includes the making of human beings in his own divine image. Wesley also articulates the basic goodness of the created order by reminding us of Genesis 1:31 and God’s declaration that what he has made is “very good.”

Beyond creating all that exists, God is also the sustainer of all things. He preserves and upholds what he has made. And nothing that continues to exist does so apart from the consistent and ongoing power of God to keep it. From this power to uphold, Wesley deduces that God also knows what he has made and all there is to know about what he has made. After all, how could God sustain all things if he does not know all things. Again, here’s Wesley:

“…it cannot be doubted but he sees every atom of his creation, and that a thousand times more clearly than we see the things that are close to us: even of these we see only the surface, while he sees the inmost essence of everything” (Sermon 67).

The triune God knows all there is to know about all there is to know. He knows the heavens and the earth. He knows us. He knows our thoughts. He knows our hearts.

After a detailed account of God’s knowledge of his creation, Wesley then reminds us of God’s love for everyone and that “his mercy is over all his works” (Ps 145:9). This leads Wesley to say beautifully, “Consequently he is concerned every moment for what befalls every creature upon earth; and more especially for everything that befalls any of the children of men.” John Wesley wants you to know that God cares more about you than you are able to imagine.

Complicated Wickedness

But just as soon as those words are written, Wesley gets remarkably blunt as he puts to words the objection that we have all likely expressed at least once:

“It is hard indeed to comprehend this; nay, it is hard to believe it, considering the complicated wickedness and the complicated misery we see on every side.”

One of the things I appreciate about Wesley is that he knows it’s not a problem to name the problem. Complicated wickedness. Complicated misery. Wesley knew this well. His ministry took him into some of the most miserable places of his day. He doesn’t offer us a sanitized faith, nor does he ask us to embrace an easy-believism. Wesley insists that we must trust God and confess that his ways are higher than our ways, but that doesn’t stop him from explicitly stating how hard that can be sometimes.

And this is Wesley’s way of articulating what we now call the problem of evil. If God is the good and all-powerful creator of all things, why is there so much “complicated wickedness?” Why doesn’t God just snap his fingers and make all the evil go away? Why doesn’t he just stop the bad things from happening?

Those are questions we’ve all asked. And Wesley offers us a single principle to account for why God doesn’t put an end to evil and injustice right now.

Wesley’s Principle

Wesley’s answer to the problem of evil is a development of his understanding of what it means for God to be the creator and sustainer of all things and of us. For Wesley, this is the one reason that God does not destroy all sin right now. What is the principle? Here’s how Wesley put it:

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If you enjoyed this clip, listen to the full conversation on Theology Project | The Podcast or watch it on YouTube.

Dr. Jason Vickers serves as professor of Christian theology and the Wesley Endowed Chair of Christian Theology. A popular teacher, prolific author, and ordained elder in the Global Methodist Church, Vickers holds a PhD from Southern Methodist University. Prior to joining Truett Seminary, Vickers taught at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky. He also has taught at Austin College in Sherman, Texas, Hood Theological Seminary in Salisbury, North Carolina, and United Theological Seminary in Dayton, Ohio. Professor Vickers is a past president of the Wesleyan Theological Society and current member of the Discipleship, Doctrine, and Just Ministry Commission of the Global Methodist Church. Vickers is editor of the Wesleyan Theological Journal, and co-author with Thomas H. McCall of Love Divine: A Wesleyan Systematic Theology.

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General Conference is upon us. Very soon delegates from around the world will gather in Johannesburg as the only body that speaks for the Global Methodist Church. And this General Conference will be consequential. In some ways, it has potential to shape the kind of Church we become. One of those is the doctrinal and theological character of the denomination. Delegates will be considering the proposed Articles of Faith, a successor document to our previous doctrinal standards—the twenty-five Articles of Religion inherited from the Church of England and Confession of Faith received from the Evangelical United Brethren. This is no small thing.

Within the proposed Articles of Faith, the article on Scripture has raised several very good questions, especially around the language that “Scripture is without error in all it affirms.” What does it mean to say that Scripture is without error? How do we know what Scripture affirms? I have endeavored to answer those questions as clearly as I can in a series of articles in recent weeks. This will be the final essay in that series, and it is focused on two remaining questions that have been raised in the conversation leading up to General Conference?

First, what exactly does Scripture affirm? Second, who gets to say what Scripture affirms?

A possible fear?

These questions are important for multiple reasons. One reason is the possible fear that someone might attempt to impose their own idiosyncratic and overly literalistic interpretation on others (or the denomination) as the only interpretation that is without error. These are the kinds of things I've heard. If I don’t affirm young earth creationism or if I think Revelation is largely symbolic, is someone going to file a complaint against me? The fear is fear over what we might call an inerrancy “witch hunt.”

And the fear is not unjustified. That sort of thing happens at times. People sometimes wrongly confuse the inerrancy of their own interpretation with the trustworthiness of Scripture and go looking for people who disagree with them. To illustrate, I was once told that “women in ministry” was a litmus text for whether a person believes the Bible is true. But that is a false move. And you can imagine my frustration at the very suggestion of such nonsense. As many readers of Theology Project will know, I’ve expended considerable effort over the years arguing that Scripture affirms the full participation of women in leadership at every level of the Church. I am egalitarian precisely because of the Bible, not despite it. There is a difference between the text of Scripture and our interpretation of Scripture. And things never go well when we conflate the two.

So, the fear is not unjustified. The question is whether we in the Global Methodist Church have any protection from the folly of those who might attempt to impose some sort of litmus test on any of us.

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What does Scripture affirm and who says?

Presently, the proposed Articles of Faith say that “Scripture is without error in all it affirms.” And we are right to ask if that language is affirmed by General Conference: What does the Global Methodist Church say about what Scripture affirms? And who says what the Global Methodist Church says about what Scripture affirms?

What does Scripture affirm?

I think this is actually quite straightforward when you are talking about what Scripture affirms in the context of a single denomination. I also think this is one of the functions of our doctrinal standards.

Right now, that authoritative interpretation comes in the Twenty-Five Articles of Religion and the Confession of Faith. If the proposed Articles of Faith are adopted at General Conference, that doctrinal standard will become the authoritative interpretation articulating what we believe Scripture affirms. If it is not adopted, then we’ll continue with the Articles of Religion and the Confession of Faith. Either way, our doctrinal standards represent a consensus statement for the whole denomination of what Scripture affirms. And when it comes to matters that are not addressed in our doctrinal standards, we are free to disagree with one another in charity on how Scripture is best interpreted. Our denominational doctrines tell us what Scripture affirms.

Who says what Scripture affirms?

Again, I think this is straightforward when we’re talking about shared denominational life. If our doctrinal statements define what Scripture affirms for Global Methodists, then the General Conference is the only body that says what Scripture affirms for Global Methodists. That authority or prerogative does not fall with any individual, whether a lay person, clergy, or even our bishops. The General Conference is the only body that speaks for the Global Methodist Church. Therefore, the General Conference is the only body that speaks for the Global Methodist Church on the question of what Scripture affirms. And the General Conference speaks to that question by adopting the doctrinal standards that articulate what Scripture affirms for Global Methodists.

I discussed this very question with Dr. Joel Chopp on a recent episode of Theology Project. If you’re interested, it’s queued up so you can watch it here.

What is the point of this language on Scripture?

Here’s the thing. The point of language like “Scripture is without error in all it affirms” is not to control every last interpretive question that might be raised. It’s not about instilling fear. The point is to embrace robust language about the truthfulness of Scripture that aligns the Global Methodist Church with historic Christianity and the world-wide church. Many Global Methodists have just come out of a denomination at great cost precisely because we are committed to the authority of Scripture. It is good and right for us to articulate our commitment to authority of Scripture in our doctrinal standards. The thing to remember is that Scripture’s authority depends on its truthfulness. If Scripture isn’t true, then neither is it authoritative. A robust statement on Scripture will affirm the inspiration, authority, trustworthiness, and effectiveness of the Bible. There is nothing to fear—and much to gain—with a strong statement on what we believe about Scripture.

I’m interviewing Preston Sprinkle on an upcoming episode of Theology Project. Our conversation will focus on his new book From Genesis to Junia: An Honest Search for What the Bible Really Says about Women in Leadership, and I want to hear what you think I should ask him.

We’ll talk about key passages in the Bible at the heart of the debate over women’s leadership in the church—texts like Genesis 1—2, 1 Corinthians 11 and 14, and 1 Timothy 2, among others.

Is there something about a passage of Scripture you’d like clarified? An argument you'd like explained? An objection or counterargument you’d like him to address? Leave your question in the comments below.

Comments are open to paid subscribers, and I’ll select some of your questions to ask Preston during our conversation. It’s one of the benefits of becoming a paid subscriber to Theology Project. In addition to accessing paid content, subscribers get the opportunity to help shape upcoming YouTube and podcast conversations.

About From Genesis to Junia

If you haven’t seen the book yet, Preston chronicles his own journey of seeking to understand what the Bible really says about women holding positions of church leadership. It’s less like a lecture and more like an exploration.

Rigorous, accessible, and gracious, From Genesis to Junia explores the key biblical passages in the debate over women in church leadership. That’s why it’s become one of my highly recommended resources on one of the most hotly debated topics in the church today.

Get the Book

Why does Christianity sometimes seem to have so little effect on the lives of Christians? Why hasn’t it had a greater effect on the world?

John Wesley asked that question more than two centuries ago. In his sermon “Causes of the Inefficacy of Christianity,” Wesley wrestled with a troubling reality: if Christianity is true and the gospel has the power to transform people, why do so many Christians seem largely unchanged?

In this episode of Theology Project, I’m joined by my friend Dr. Chris Bounds to explore Wesley’s reflections on this challenging series of questions. We discuss what Wesley believed was keeping Christianity from having its intended effect, the role of Christian doctrine and discipline, the importance of holiness, and number one problem that minimizes the effectiveness of the church.

Along the way, we’ll talk about whether Wesley’s answers are still relevant to the church today.

Listen now on Substack or on your favorite podcast platform.

Want to engage even more?

• Read the sermon: “Causes of the Inefficacy of Christianity”

• Get Holiness: A Biblical, Historical, and Systematic Theology co-authored by Chris Bounds

Prefer video? Watch the conversation on YouTube

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Theme music: “Steps” by Anno Domini Beats. Used with permission.

People who know me now are often surprised to find out that I spent much of my undergrad on academic probation. After all, I hold a PhD from a British university and have authored multiple books and articles at both scholarly and popular levels. And yet, it’s true. I was a terrible student early on. Perhaps my story is a bit atypical, perhaps not. Whatever the case, the journey from being an academic under-performer to attaining an advanced research degree in a classical discipline has taught me a few things. Here’s the story; and, at the end, I’ll share the most important lessons I learned.

What went wrong?

I don’t recall exactly how many semesters I was on probation, and I was never suspended. For that to happen both my semester GPA and my cumulative GPA would’ve had to fall below a certain threshold, and I always managed to keep at least one of them just high enough to avoid expulsion. The problem really began in high school. I was the kid who could make A’s and B’s without much effort, and that’s exactly what I did. I went to school. I went to football practice after school. And I didn’t study much, which means I didn’t learn to study well. That may get you on the A/B honor roll in high school, but it doesn’t work in college. I visited my academic advisor a few times along the way, and each time he would pull out my file—yes, back then it was a physical file folder with actual paper in it. When I received a probation letter in the mail, I would read it and throw it away; my advisor had copies of them all, and they were attached to my file in a stack on the left side. It was quite striking to see them all there in a single (and rather significant) stack.

The first couple of years were the worst. Huge classes. New expectations. Difficult tests. Things improved somewhat as I got into my major classes. I was in the philosophy program with an emphasis on religious studies. I thought that would be the best major to prepare me for seminary. The classes were smaller, and the professors were deeply invested in us. It was a spectacular department of people who worked hard to form students into critical thinkers.

What I began to learn

There was one other shift that taught me one very, very important lesson that I’ve carried with me ever since.

The shift from core classes to major classes came with a shift generally from tests to papers, at least for me. When you’re in a history class with 300 other students, you’re going to take a lot of multiple choice tests. And some of those teachers pride themselves on their ability to write very difficult multiple choice tests.

When I got into my major classes, I found myself writing more papers than I was taking tests. The faculty in the department required essays on the assigned texts—whether Plato or Descartes or someone else. And not only did they assign papers, I recall multiple professors insisting on taking time after I’d written the paper to talk about its strengths and weaknesses. They not only required me to articulate my thoughts in writing (a crucial skill), they also offered themselves to teach me when my writing (and thus my thinking) was clear and organized and when it was weak and jumbled. I recall one professor insisting that good writers were made, not born. He also insisted that if our writing was unclear, then so was our thinking. That same professor required us to come to office hours where he would grade our papers in front of us discussing our arguments (or lack of arguments) along the way. It was terrifying. But it was also deeply formative. I didn’t realize it at the time, but all of that was the work of a teacher who loved both the student and the subject. In general, my philosophy professors didn’t seem bothered by students who might take different views than them, as long as our views were thoughtful, grounded, and articulated well. Clear arguments—that’s what mattered.

That move—from large classes characterized by impersonal multiple choice tests to smaller classes focused on intellectual mentoring by means of discussing texts and writing papers—was crucial for me. I began to learn that I was more academically successful when I was writing rather than testing.

Before moving on, I want to be clear about one thing. I regret not being a better student in college. I deeply regret it. Sometimes I wonder how much better prepared I would be for the work I’m doing now had I been more disciplined and learned to study well earlier. How much more beneficial would my major classes have been had I become a better student before those courses rather than in them? I imagine that all the work I’m doing now would be better for it. That said, we can’t change the past, but we can learn from it. And upon my graduation from college, that’s what I set out to do.

On to grad school

I was committed to vocational ministry since my freshman year in college, which meant I’d go on to seminary upon the completion of my undergraduate work. But I realized very quickly after graduation that if I didn’t really learn to study, I wouldn’t be successful in grad school. If I wanted to do what I wanted to do—what I was called to do—I had to learn to study. And study well.

I took a year and half off between college and seminary. There were several reasons for that, but they aren’t part of this story. I did take that time to work on my study skills and habits, to work on my reading and my writing. I worked at a BBQ place all through college and during that year and half after graduation. When I got off work each day, I’d take one of my philosophy books from college—or some work of theology—and go to a coffee shop. I would take a notebook and a pen, and I would study. I wasn’t enrolled in any classes or a degree program. I was simply trying to learn what I needed to learn to be successful in my next academic program and to be faithful to my calling. And it worked. I found myself able to read for longer periods of time. My attention span lengthened. My recollection developed. My understanding of the concepts I was reading improved.

When I applied to seminary, they put me on a limited course load due to my poor performance in college. But the work I’d done between programs paid off, and I did well enough in my first two semesters to successfully petition the enrollment limit be removed early. It was. I thrived. My grades improved. My formation deepened. I was in my element.

That lesson I began to learn in undergrad stayed with me in grad school. When it was time to enroll for courses in the upcoming semester, I would take a look at older syllabi to find out whether the professors gave tests or papers. You can guess which courses I took. That’s right. I tried as much as possible to take classes in which I could write papers and avoid tests. With papers, I felt like I was in control. With tests, I did not. Papers allowed me to formulate my thoughts over the course of the class. They allowed me to begin learning the writer’s craft. I was able to test ideas and learn to say things in new ways. I didn’t always test well, but I found that my papers frequently earned high marks. I even had the opportunity to present a paper at a major academic conference before graduating from seminary. The evidence suggested that things had changed a great deal since those undergraduate days characterized by under-performance.

I would be remiss not to mention that several of my seminary professors devoted significant time outside of class to my intellectual development. They recognized the importance of this formative period and shepherded me along the way. From discussing papers over coffee to lunchtime Greek reading groups, they ensured I had every opportunity to succeed in my intellectual and spiritual formation.

After a year or so in seminary, I began to think I’d like to do a PhD. But can a person who did so poorly in so much of their undergraduate work even get into a PhD program? That’s the next part of the story.

Overcoming the past

Given my less than stellar college transcripts, I was very unsure about the prospect of even getting into a decent PhD program. I asked one of my seminary professors how to approach that problem. His recommendation was—wait for it—to simply be honest. He suggested I explain what happened in the past and tell the story of how I had developed. So that’s what I did. In my cover letter for doctoral program applications, I told a bit of the story you’re reading now: I was unprepared for undergraduate work, but I took it upon myself to improve as a student, and the evidence for that transformation was the significant improvement in my GPA from my undergraduate program to grad school. I also worked hard outside of the classroom and began writing book reviews for academic journals in addition to the conference paper mentioned above, which was later revised to become my first published academic article. All of that, with the recommendations of a few seminary profs, resulted in the opportunity to begin a PhD under the supervision of a leading scholar of the New Testament at a British university. Fast forward several years: I successfully defended my dissertation with no revisions required beyond a handful of typos and had the opportunity to publish with one of the leading academic publishers in my field. Our past doesn’t necessarily determine our future.

Here’s what I learned

1. It’s of the utmost importance to learn your strengths. I’ve never tested very well. But I’ve learned that I can write a strong paper. Consequently, I was able to increase the likelihood of my academic success by leaning into that strength. I took classes with papers and avoided tests as much as possible. What’s the moral of the story? Figure out what you’re good at. Then do that thing. And chart your path—whether it’s in academics or something else—based on that strength or set of strengths.

2. Standardized tests are not necessarily a good predictor of intellectual capacity or academic success. This, of course, is unfortunate, because the American education system is obsessed with testing. I’ve taken a variety of standardized tests throughout my schooling, from the ACT in high school to the GRE later. My scores were average, never spectacular. Over time, I learned that did not mean I could not achieve academic success. I suspect I’m not the only one for whom these things are true.

3. Knowing your teachers and working closely with them matters. I remember sitting in an undergrad history class with 300 students; it was a nightmare. You can and (perhaps) should learn some things in that setting, but it really isn’t the best context for effective intellectual formation. In contrast, I recall going to lunch with profs in my major, having coffee with faculty members at my seminary, and being deeply formed through one-on-one conversations with my PhD supervisor. Education is formation. And it works the best when your teachers know you, and you know them. When I moved to attend seminary, I remember thinking of two profs in particular that I wanted to study with and hopefully get to know. I did. They both taught me so much, and both continue to be friends and mentors today.

4. Poor performance in the past does not rule out future success. It is possible to overcome academic probation in your undergrad and go on to do advanced academic work. It takes effort and hard work, but it is possible. So, if your story is anything like mine, be encouraged. Don’t give up.

Read Next: Is the “I” in Romans 7 Paul...or not Paul?
This is #1 determining factor for me.

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It’s one of the most hotly debated questions in Romans. The lines are clearly drawn. When the apostle Paul describes an incapacity to avoid sin in Romans 7, is he describing himself and his own Christian experience? Or, is he describing the experience of someone who is not a Christian? Someone who has not been born again? Someone who has not received the gift of the Spirit in Christ? Some say it’s Paul. Others insist that it can’t be. In this article, I’ll share where I land on the question, and what I think the clearest determining factor is. But first, it’s probably worth reading the passage in question together. Here’s Romans 7:14—25.

¹⁴ We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin.¹⁵ I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. ¹⁶ And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good.¹⁷ As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. ¹⁸ For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature.^[c] For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. ¹⁹ For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.²⁰ Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.

²¹ So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. ²² For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; ²³ but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. ²⁴ What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? ²⁵ Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature^[d] a slave to the law of sin.

Understanding the Options

Before I tell you what I think is going on in this passage, it’s worth taking a minute to understand the interpretive options and why proponents of each understand the text the way they do. At the risk of oversimplification, there are largely two schools of thought. One says the “I” of Romans 7 is Paul the Christian. The other says the “I” of Romans 7 is not Paul describing his own Christian experience. The question is why each group sees it the way they do.

Option 1: It’s Paul

Folks who opt for the view that Paul is describing his own Christian experience largely take that view because they think Paul talks like a Christian in this passage. Consider the way he describes God’s law. He agrees that the law is good (16). He desires to do the good he’s supposed to do (19, 21). Proponents of this option point to that positive posture toward the law of God and say that only believers look so favorably on God’s commands. If the “I” of Romans 7 were an unbeliever, we wouldn’t expect such a positive evaluation of the command of God. After all, unbelievers are unbelievers precisely because they are opposed to God’s commands. As Dodson and Motl explain, proponents of this view “cannot imagine the I being anyone other than him because the figure delights in the law of God and desires to do good” (Conquerors, Not Captives, 20).

Consider also the way Paul assesses himself. He describes himself as a “wretched man” in 7:24. Proponents of this option suggest that only a believer would be able to pronounce this declaration over his own life. It reflects a deep conviction of sin and a complete recognition that no good dwells in him. Doesn’t that kind of conviction only come through the saving presence of the Holy Spirit? Surely an unbeliever wouldn’t be capable of such a self-awareness.

To be sure, this view has been affirmed and taught by major figures in Christian history. Proponents include no less than St. Augustine and Martin Luther. Calvin remarked in his commentary on Romans that what the “I” says here “cannot be applied to any but to the regenerate.” For proponents of the view that Paul is describing his own Christian experience, Romans 7 should remind us that we are far worse than we typically recognize. Here Scripture describes the experience of a mature Christian who wrestles with and resists sin, yet nevertheless finds the power of sin to be, at times, overpowering.

Option 2: It’s NOT Paul

Proponents of option 2 see things very, very differently. Rather than seeing in these verses the self-assessment of a regenerate Christian believer, they find a description of someone who has not yet come into the freedom of union with Christ and the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. Option 2 depends heavily on Paul’s use of “slave” language. Surely the believer is not “sold as a slave to sin” as Paul describes in 7:14. The picture of the figure’s slavery is filled in by the repetitious insistence that he is unable to do the good he should do. Doesn’t Paul elsewhere expect believers to do good. If this is salvation, it doesn’t seem all that great.

This option has been around for a long time. It was a widely held view among the early Church Fathers, and proponents have included folks like Origen and Jerome. John Wesley said that the “I” of Romans 7 is a person “convinced of sin but not yet delivered from it” (Sermon 9).

That brings us to one nuance that is common among proponents of option 2. That is, Paul is depicting a person on the verge of conversion. The figure is not yet justified and regenerated but is, nonetheless, experiencing the convicting work of the Holy Spirit and, consequently, seeking salvation. Thus the cry in 7:24, “Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?”

A Recommendation

As an aside, if you’re looking for a book that introduces all this in greater detail but is still broadly accessible, you won’t do better than the book I mentioned above, Conquerors, Not Captives by Joseph R Dodson and Mattie Mae Motl. They set Romans 7 in context as part of the larger argument of Romans, and they work through other relevant passages too. It’s a very, very readable book. And one you’ll enjoy even if you end up disagreeing with their conclusions.

Here I Stand

For me, there is one particularly important determining factor in this debate. There is one thing that Paul says that, when taken in context, makes the whole passage come clear. That’s not to say it’s not a complicated text. And it’s not to say folks in the other camp haven’t made thoughtful arguments. It’s only that I can’t reconcile this one feature of the text with the opposing interpretation.

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“Scripture is without error in all it affirms.” That statement appears in the proposed Articles of Faith of the Global Methodist Church. That statement has also raised important questions about what it actually entails. To what beliefs about the Bible are we considering committing ourselves? What does the statement mean? And, just as important, what does it not mean?

This essay is about that last question. My aim here is to clear up some confusion that may be out there regarding this phrase: without error in all it affirms. Each of the points made below have come up in recent months in real conversations with Global Methodist laity and clergy. I thought it might be helpful to collect them all here in one place.

For context, you can think of this as part 3 in a series of articles on the doctrine of Scripture. If you missed the first two installments, don’t worry. This one stands on its own. And if this essay strikes your interest, the two earlier posts will fill out the picture even more.

One more thing before launching into the discussion. It’s worth remembering that the Articles of Faith are still in the proposal stage. They have been submitted by the Commission on Discipleship, Doctrine, and Just Ministry as legislation to the upcoming General Conference. The work was done because the previous General Conference instructed that it should be done. Right now there is ongoing space for the broader denomination to engage in community discernment and provide additional feedback. Then the delegates to General Conference will take up the work in South Africa. That’s the process.

Now to our clarifications. Here are four things the claim that “Scripture is without error in all it affirms” does not mean.

1. Not the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy

Let’s get this one out of the way first. If the Articles of Faith of the Global Methodist Church end up saying that “Scripture is without error in all it affirms,” it does not mean that the Global Methodist Church is adopting the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy. The Chicago Statement is a lengthy document of more than 1,500 words that articulates a variety of qualifications, nuances, and assertions both positive and negative about the Bible. The proposed language that “Scripture is without error in all affirms” is only one sentence composed of a few words. Those five words do not imply, entail, contain, express, or require the many affirmations and denials contained within the Chicago Statement. “Without error in all it affirms” is not a requirement of Chicago Statement-style inerrancy.

There are Global Methodists who would both agree that Scripture is without error in all it affirms and who would also affirm the Chicago Statement (I’m one of them). However, there are Global Methodists who would agree “Scripture is without error in all it affirms” and yet reject the Chicago Statement. This could be for a variety of reasons. They might quibble with Chicago’s use of certain words. They might want to frame things differently. They might desire to nuance the doctrine in a different direction. Indeed, beyond the GMC and across the North American church there are those people who would embrace “without error in all it affirms” and still raise questions about the Chicago Statement in part or in whole. The language of “without error” has been understood in a variety of ways. The Chicago Statement is well-known, but it doesn’t necessarily have a monopoly on how the language is to be understood. So, wherever the discussion goes, let’s not assume that affirming “without error” means affirming every word of the Chicago Statement.

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2. Not Young-Earth Creationism

This is one I hear quite frequently, and we need to dispel this mistaken assumption permanently. “Without error in all it affirms” does not entail a commitment to young-earth creationism. I’m going to say it again. “Without error in all it affirms” does not entail a commitment to—or affirmation of—young-earth creationism.

This is where it’s crucially important to make a distinction between (1) the text of the Bible and (2) the interpretation of the text of the Bible. The text of the Bible offers us a creation narrative in the opening chapters of Genesis, and there are multiple interpretations of that biblical text. One approach interprets the text of Scripture to teach that the earth is only about 6,000 years old. Another contrasting interpretation rejects a young earth and argues for an interpretation of Genesis that leaves room for a very old earth and a very old universe. This is key: proponents of both views can and do affirm that the Bible is without error in all it affirms.

Old Earth Evangelicals

Among the latter group (of old earth creationists) are people like Tim Keller, William Lane Craig, John Walton, Hugh Ross, Tremper Longman, Deborah Haarsma, and others. Each of these folks would affirm both the authority and truthfulness of Scripture and an old earth.

Multiple prior presidents of the Evangelical Theological Society (ETS) have defended an old earth view of creation. This is significant because ETS requires belief in inerrancy for membership. Here are a few prominent examples, though there are plenty more. Bruce Waltke (ETS President 1975), a widely-regarded Old Testament scholar who taught at Reformed Theological Seminary, is known for his defense of inerrancy and an old earth. Wayne Grudem served as ETS President in 1999. He is a well-known defender of inerrancy and affirms and argues for an old earth.

Craig Keener, Professor of New Testament at Asbury Seminary, held the ETS presidency in 2020. He has argued that, “Genesis was not written to address modern scientific interests,” and “Genesis is not interested in our curiosity about the age of the earth.” In a 2012 article, Keener argued that a growing number of evangelicals are embracing various old-earth views. That reality has only increased in the years since that article was published.

What about the genealogies?

Now the objection is sometimes made that the Bible affirms a young earth on the basis of the genealogies in the Old Testament. After all, if you add them all up, it adds up to about 6,000 years. Doesn’t that mean that the Bible affirms a young earth? And while some folks in the medieval period employed Old Testament genealogies this way, there is very good reason not to. As Sandra Richter remarks in her widely-read Epic of Eden, “these early chronographers had very limited information regarding ancient schemes of reckoning time and, particularly important, the function of genealogies in kinship-based societies. Hence, the resulting chronologies were skewed” (50).

So, the answer to the answer to the question of whether the genealogies give us the age of the earth is no. And here’s why. To say that the Bible is without error in all it affirms means that the intent of the author and the literary form chosen by the author govern the meaning of the text. That observation puts us in the position to make two claims about what these texts affirm. One, the literary form of genealogy does not function in the same was the literary form of modern scientific hypothesis or as a science textbook. Second, ancient genealogies are not intended by their authors as a means for calculating the age of the earth.

The genealogies do function in other ways. Again, here’s Sandra Richter, who says that Old Testament genealogies

functioned to clarify all sorts of societal relationships—inheritance, legal access to a particular office, geographical location and territory rights, ethnology, or even a group’s particular caste or function within a society…a particular person’s genealogy could shift depending on the end goal of the individual recounting that genealogy. In addition to the array of social functions, the genealogies we find in the Bible, although derived from older archival records, have been placed into a narrative context and, therefore, have been overlaid with theological and narrative functions as well (50).

To illustrate, genealogy as a literary form functions in Genesis 5 to make theological affirmations about the rapid spread of the consequences of sin (see the recurrence of “then he died”). The many and varied ancient uses for genealogies should give us pause when appealing to them as a means for scientific dating of the earth. They were not intended to do that, and they don’t communicate in such a way as to bear on scientific hypotheses about the age of the earth. The literary form doesn’t work that way. As a result, we shouldn’t ask a biblical text to do something it wasn’t intended to do.

So, again, wherever the GMC discussion goes with regard to how we talk about Scripture, let’s not assume that “without error in all it affirms” entails a commitment to young-earth creationism. It doesn’t.

3. Not Importing Reformed Theology

This one shows up occasionally. It’s the suggestion that a concern that scripture is without error is of primary concern only to the Reformed tradition and not to the Wesleyan tribe. This, however, is easily refuted. I wrote about this in Firebrand not too long ago. Instead of rehashing it here, I’ll simply draw your attention to what I said there. The McCall essay I refer to is Thomas H. McCall, “Wesleyan Theology and the Authority of Scripture: Historic Affirmations and Some Contemporary Issues” in The Enduring Authority of the Christian Scriptures (ed., D.A. Carson; Eerdmans, 2016), 171-194.

In the remainder of McCall’s essay, he goes on to show that major figures from the Wesleyan tradition have adopted and commended the classical view that Scripture is without error in its affirmations. It is well-known that John Wesley rejected the notion that Scripture is liable to err: “Nay, if there be any mistakes in the Bible, there may as well be a thousand. If there be one falsehood in that book, it did not come from the God of truth” (Journal, 6:117).

McCall’s essay catalogues additional evidence that other leading Methodist theologians embraced the same classical view. Thomas Ralston discussed the issue extensively and concluded that the superintendence of the Holy Spirit freed the authors of Scripture from “the possibility of mistake or error” (Elements of Divinity, 603). Samuel Wakefield said that the influence of the Holy Spirit enabled Scripture to be written “without error or mistake” (71) and that the writers of Scripture were “infallibly preserved from error” (Complete System of Christian Theology, 81). William Burt Pope wrote that the Bible “cannot contain anything untrue” (Compendium of Christian Theology, 1:174). Randolph Foster said this of Scripture, “Falsity in any part will be fatal to the whole, or so far vitiate its claim as to destroy its authority” (Studies in Theology, 38).

All of these are Methodist theologians. All of them affirm and defend the classical Christian view that Scripture is without error. Consequently, the suggestion that such language is non-Wesleyan gives the appearance of unfamiliarity with what the tradition has said. The classical Christian view of Scripture is also the classical Wesleyan view of Scripture.

In addition to Reformed theologians, Roman Catholics and Wesleyans have frequently affirmed that scripture is without error in its affirmations, which is such a prominent feature of Church history that McCall (who is foremost among Methodist theologians today) has remarked, “Christians of various ecclesial and theological commitments consistently have held this view or something close to it. In fact, I take this to be settled enough that I shall henceforth refer to it as the ‘classical’ account of Scripture” (171).

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4. Not Wooden Literalism

Another clarification to make is that “without error in all it affirms” does not entail a woodenly literalistic reading of the biblical text. We’ve already anticipated this point above in our discussion of literary form and authorial intent, but it’s worth saying a bit more.

The phrase “in all it affirms” entails recognizing that Scripture employs figures of speech, metaphor, symbolism, and a variety of other literary devices in the various affirmations that it makes. Metaphor should be interpreted as metaphor. Symbolism should be interpreted as symbolism.

Here are a few examples. When Jesus says he is the bread of life, he does not mean he’s made of wheat. He does mean that his presence sustains our lives in a way analogous to bread nourishing our bodies. When Scripture describes beasts that come out of the sea (Daniel 7; Revelation 13), it is not suggesting we visit the nearest beach and wait for fearsome conglomerate creatures to emerge from the waves. We are expected to know that the Hebrew mind associated the sea with evil. We are also expected to know that if a beast comes out of the sea, that it symbolically represents evil powers that oppose God, his people, and his purposes for the world.

These are all symbols. They are not to be read with a woodenly literalistic interpretive posture. Such a posture fails to take author’s intent and the biblical text seriously.

When we say that Scripture is without error in all it affirms, that entails reading each text in light of the literary devices it employs. Let’s be rid of the notion that “without error” means wooden literalism.

5. Not Mere Dictation

The last misperception we’ll cover is this: To say that Scripture is without error in all it affirms does not mean that God dictated the Bible word-for-word to the authors of scripture who then wrote what they heard like heavenly secretaries. The problem with dictation theories of scriptural inspiration is that they don’t take account for the human dynamic of Scripture. When a dictation theory of the Bible is adopted, it tends to make the human agents who wrote down the biblical texts entirely passive. It overlooks their literary sensibilities, grammatical style, and the distinct personality of their writing. Notions of dictation minimize the synergistic relationship between the divine author and human authors of Scripture.

You don’t have to look far to see this in practice. Luke and Paul are very different writers. And both of them are quite different from the writings of John. God did not bypass their individual human agency in order to produce a unilaterally authored Bible. Instead, mysteriously and beautifully, God worked through the human authors as active agents to produce the biblical texts. I’m not inclined to attempt to overanalyze exactly how God accomplished this. I am deeply grateful that he did.

And I think it makes reading and studying the Bible far more exciting and interesting. If God had bypassed the individual character (and even the peculiarities) of the human authors to produce a Bible that obviously appeared to be dictated by a single author, then we stand to lose much. Consider that each of the canonical gospels invite us to look at Jesus from their distinct perspective. Matthew invites us to see Jesus from the vantage point of a new Moses. Mark asks us to look particularly at the way Jesus comes as king. Luke draws our gaze to Jesus’ concern for the plight of the poor. And John insists we see Jesus as the reality to which the temple always pointed. These cohesive but varied portraits of Jesus give us a more thorough and more well-rounded vision of who Jesus is and what he has done. That diversity represents the real input of the human agents who were inspired to write Holy Scripture. Again, thanks be to God.

Conclusion

My goal here has been to clarify some common misperceptions about the doctrine of Scripture. To that end, I’ve engaged these five real questions that have been raised over and again by Global Methodists eager to seriously engage this discussion. Increased clarity is especially important as the Global Methodist Church reflects on its proposed Articles of Faith. To say that scripture is without error in all it affirms is to say that it tells the truth it was intended to tell. That language does not entail a commitment to the Chicago Statement, young earth creationism, or overly literalistic readings of the Bible. It doesn’t mean we’ve been taken my a particularly Reformed interest, and it doesn’t mean strict dictation. There are all sorts of interpretation questions tied up in those claims. But the claims themselves are not required by the proposed Articles of Faith.

I’ve been a pastor for over twenty years. During the time, I’ve fielded a lot of questions. There’s one question I’ve answered more often than any other. What happens to a person after death? Many assume that Christian hope is focused on a disembodied afterlife of pure spirit. They are surprised to find that’s not the biblical vision. Instead, the New Testament envisions a two-stage experience of the afterlife. First, being with Christ after death. Second—and most importantly!—bodily resurrection into a new creation.

This is what I’ve learned. If there’s one thing people have questions and misconceptions about, it’s the afterlife. Consequently, if there’s one biblical teaching that needs clarifying, it’s the afterlife. Here’s why: the biblical vision of life after death is one of beauty and redemption. It’s focused on healing what’s broken and restoring everything that’s wrong. It’s the purpose and fulfillment of the work of Christ. But it’s often misconstrued as escape rather than rescue. It’s not just about individuals going to a spiritual heaven. No, it’s much more comprehensive than that.

Afterlife Myth-Busting

By far the most common myth about the afterlife in the Bible is the concept of going to a spiritual and other-worldly heaven when you die. This vision of heaven often comes with the belief that non-physical spiritual existence is superior to embodied existence. Heaven is an alternative reality. It’s about escaping this world and getting to “a better place” or “going to be with Jesus” or “going home.” It frequently involves leaving the cares and burdens of “this world” behind. Sometimes people will talk about going to heaven to receive their “spiritual body”, even though that is manifestly not what the Bible means when it talks about the “spiritual body.”

The idea of a non-physical eternal heaven is incredibly common among many Christians and deeply problematic.

But what are the specifics of the actual biblical vision? Let’s take a closer look.

Two-Stage Life-after-Death

The biblical vision of the afterlife actually comes in two stages. Theologians often refer to the first stage as the intermediate state and the second as the eternal state. The intermediate state is a conscious out-of-body experience of being in the presence of Jesus, but it is not framed in the Bible as an eternal reward (more on that in a minute). The eternal state involves the resurrection of the present body into a glorified and immortal state to dwell in the new creation, which is this world remade and set free from bondage to decay (again, more on that in a minute).

Now that we’ve got the big picture, let’s take a look at the biblical evidence. The rest of this article looks at major New Testament passages on life after death and future bodily resurrection. We’ll see that hope isn’t about escaping the world. It’s about resurrection into God’s new creation.

Stage 1: When You Die

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What role do doctrinal standards play in the life of the church? In this episode, Dr. Joel Chopp explains why confessions matter, how the proposed Articles of Faith would function in the Global Methodist Church, and what faithful Wesleyan confessionalism looks like.

The discussion develops from Joel’s brand new article “Wesleyan Confessionalism and Theological Education,” which was just published in the most recent edition of the Asbury Herald. We discuss:

• What doctrinal standards are

• Who doctrinal standards are for

• Why some Methodists reject confessionalism

• Why other Methodists are committed to normative doctrines

• What we can learn about confessions from other Protestants

• Why not all the articles in the proposed Articles of faith should not be distinctly Wesleyan

• The guardrail function of doctrine

• How we know what Scripture affirms

• And more!

Listen using the podcast player above. Or, you can get it on Apple Podcasts or Spotify by clicking the appropriate button below.

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Prefer video? Watch it on YouTube.

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At the end of our conversation, Joel recommended two books for anyone who wants to dig in deeper to the way doctrine functions in the church. Here they are:

• Doctrine, Spirit, and Discipline: A History of the Wesleyan Tradition in the United States by Kevin Watson

• Doctrinal Standards in the Wesleyan Tradition by Thomas Oden

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Theme music: “Steps” by Anno Domini Beats. Used with permission.

One of the frequently asked questions in the lead up to the Global Methodist Church (GMC) General Conference has to do with the proposed Article of Faith on Scripture. Here’s the question: why not just say Scripture is without error instead of saying without error in all it affirms? What’s the point of that additional language? What exactly does “in all it affirms” mean? And why do we need it? These are all excellent questions that deserve are careful thought as the GMC discerns how to articulate its understanding of Scripture. It’s a great discussion, and I hope it continues. I’m glad that our young denomination is engaged in a thoughtful public dialogue around doctrine generally and the doctrine of Scripture particularly. Theology is about learning to speak truthfully of God and his purposes in the world he has made. Time spent in that endeavor is always time well spent. And if God has revealed himself in Scripture, then we need to work on speaking accurately about the nature of that revelation. To that end, here are three questions that help clarify what it means to say Scripture is without error in all it affirms.

Is Scripture affirming or reporting?

If you spend much time reading theology, you’ll quickly learn that a lot of the work involves the making of distinctions. This isn’t simply an exercise. It’s necessary for achieving clarity. When it comes to the doctrine of Scripture, one of the distinctions involves the difference between what Scripture affirms and what Scripture reports. This distinction is one of the building blocks of a doctrine of Scripture. Consequently, it needs to be clarified so that we can speak truthfully about how God has revealed himself.

There are things in the Bible that are recorded but not endorsed or affirmed as true. The Bible tells us about these things. That is, it reports them. But it isn’t necessarily teaching them as true. One common text to illustrate this distinction is Genesis 3:4 where the serpent is reported to say, “You will not surely die.” In context, the tempter is speaking about the consequences of eating the forbidden fruit. God has indeed said that death is the consequence of eating the fruit of that specific tree. Now Genesis reports that the serpent was contradicting what God had said. The text is not affirming that death is not a consequence of eating the fruit; it is reporting that the serpent said death is not a consequence of eating the fruit. That is a report, but not an affirmation.

Other example comes in the commentary from Job’s friends. There are examples aplenty, but one will do. Consider a section of Eliphaz’s speech claiming that God is punishing Job for his wickedness (Job 22:4-11). Scripture reports what he said but does not affirm it. In fact, Eliphaz and the others are later denounced as speaking falsely, “You have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (42:7). Eliphaz’s commentary was reported, but it was not affirmed.

“In all it affirms” means we are seeking to know what Scripture teaches as true. If we left the phrase off, then we lose that distinction. As the two examples here show, context is absolutely crucial is getting clear on what is taught as true. We can’t just pull random verses out of context and call them biblical affirmations. That’s just one reason why the statement that Scripture is without error needs to be qualified by the prepositional phrase “in all it affirms.”

How does form shape affirmation?

The affirmations of a particular text are dependent on the literary form of that particular text. That is to say, we can only know what a text affirms after we know what kind of text it is. Literary form involves the structure of the text—how it’s put together. And the form of a text is determinative for the meaning of the text. The meaning of the text must be understood to get clear on its affirmations. Literary forms are categories like prose, poetry, epistle, law code, wisdom literature, apocalyptic, parable, and there are others. Each of those literary forms has their own conventions for conveying meaning.

Here’s a common example. In the parable of the mustard seed, Jesus describes the mustard seed as the smallest seed. Ah hah! But the mustard seed is not (scientifically speaking) the smallest of all seeds. The orchid seed is. Does Jesus err here?

Of course not. Why? Because the literary form is parable, not scientific analysis. In proverbial literature or wisdom literature, there is no expectation of modern scientific precision. The point of the parable isn’t about whether the mustard seed is the smallest seed. The point is that small and seemingly insignificant beginnings don’t rule out major and significant results. As the very small mustard seed grows to become a large bush and a home to various kinds of birds, so the presently small ministry of Jesus will also grow to be a worldwide kingdom and bless all the peoples of the earth. The parable is using generalized language to make a theological point about the nature and scope of the kingdom of God. The literary form of parable determines the affirmation of the text.

As an aside, another helpful clarification for understanding this parable is that the text communicates truthfully from the vantage point of the author or speaker. From a first-century perspective, the mustard seed looks like the smallest seed. Orchid seeds are microscopic, and a single orchid seed can’t be seen with the naked eye. Consequently, we can’t expect that level of precision from an ancient text. The parable does not err because it lacks precision only available with modern scientific instruments. From the vantage point of the speaker, it accurately represents reality.

Exact words or general substance?

Another key distinction comes with this question: do the canonical Gospels tell us the exact words of Jesus or do they contain the substance (or voice) of what he said? Some will be quick to point out that the question is complicated by the fact that Jesus at least sometimes spoke in Aramaic, and what he said in Aramaic is translated into the Greek of the Gospels (see Mark 5:41). Translation necessarily communicates substance, not exact quotes. A similar question could be raised about the various speeches of the apostles in Acts. If they are word for word, then they are very short speeches indeed! Many scholars would agree that the speeches in Acts are Luke’s summaries of what was said. We get the substance, even if we don’t get the exact words.

In each instance, the answer is probably that we have some of both—some exact words mixed into summaries of the substance. The difficulty is that we have no way of knowing which is which. Ancient people didn’t have quote marks, and they certainly did not have the same sort of rigorous citation conventions that we now have. They had no problem with attributing a summary of a quote to a speaker as a quote coming from that person. It would be unfair to require them to live up to our standards. So, as John Feinberg says, “If they contain the substance of what he said, there is no reason to think they err just because we don’t know Jesus’s exact words” (Light in a Dark Place, 245). What is affirmed can be communicated in terms of the substance of what was said. The affirmation is not lost in translation or lost in the inspired summary of what was taught.

In all it affirms

The phrase “in all it affirms” is thus an important qualifier to “without error.” It is a constant reminder that we can’t just pull random passages from the Bible and make them say what we want them to say. We can’t assume we know exactly what they mean all on our own with little to no attention to the way things are framed. We can’t overlook the literary character of the text. In all it affirms reminds us that we are looking for what Scripture teaches as true. And that requires a lot from us. It requires interpretation. It requires humility. And it requires a faithful community of believers to whom our interpretations are accountable.

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What is evil? How do we understand it? How do we talk about? Is evil a thing? More importantly (perhaps most importantly), does God make evil things? Global Methodists in particular have been discussing these questions this week, which have arisen in some of the discussion around Monday’s article, “One major thing that missing from Global Methodist doctrine.” In that essay I argued for a classical Christian doctrine that contains three basic components: (1) God made everything from nothing, (2) everything God made is good, and (3) God creates as a free expression of his love.

Some of the discussion around that essay focused on the question of how the fall affects created goodness. The question came up in a comment on the original essay, in a Facebook thread, and on at least one podcast. Once creation is plunged into the corruption that results from the sin of our first parents, is any part of creation essentially evil? Are we essentially evil? Does God make us evil? In this follow-up article, I’ll point you to a brand new resource that helps us with these questions. So, keep reading.

As a brief aside, the fact that we Wesleyans are raising questions about how to understand the goodness of creation adds urgency to the suggestion that we Global Methodists should consider including a statement on the doctrine of creation in our proposed Articles of Faith. We haven’t had a statement on creation in our doctrinal standards. We need clarity on biblical and historic components of the doctrine of creation.

Goodness across Christian Theology

I’ve been working through the brand new book Love Divine: A Wesleyan Systematic Theology by Thomas McCall and Jason Vickers. It’s a tremendous resource that I recommend without hesitation or reservation. In fact, I’ll be interviewing McCall and Vickers for an upcoming episode of the Theology Project podcast. (Read to the end to find out how you can contribute a question!) One of the strengths of the book is the way they interact with thinkers both from the Wesleyan tradition and from broader Christian orthodoxy.

As any work of systematic theology should, McCall and Vickers include a chapter on the doctrine of creation. The chapter is actually titled, “The Goodness of Creation,” in which they engage the central components of the doctrine in detail. Their discussion of the goodness of creation is helpful in the way shows broad agreement on the goodness of what God has made. They also draw attention to the beauty of God’s continued love for his good, though deeply, deeply damaged, world. Here are a few extended quotes that summarize key sources:

The basic goodness of creation is a doctrine affirmed again and again throughout the development of Christian doctrine. It is a staple of the theology of early Christianity. Athanasius affirms that “God is good, or rather is essentially the source of goodness” (144).

If God is the source of goodness, the work of his hands is good, not evil. Athanasius was particularly interested in the relationship between creation and the incarnation. McCall and Vickers continue saying that God

has, in the person of the Son, also become incarnate in it to restore it to the goodness from which and for which it exists…Gregory of Nyssa places special emphasis on the fact that humanity was created to “participate in divine goodness.” Evil is, then, a “privation of the good” (144),

This theme is a pillar of medieval and early modern scholastic theology. For instance, Arminius says that “creation is a communication of the good according to its proper inner nature.” Richard A Muller points out how close Arminius’s doctrine is to Aquinas’s: “Very much like Aquinas…Arminius holds the identity of being with goodness so that he can assert both that all things have their esse by participation in the divine esse and that all existent things are good by reason of their participation in the goodness of God” (144).

Because creation is good, Pseudo-Dionysius reasons, we should know that “evil is not an inherent part of nature as a whole,” and he likewise denies that there is “evil in our bodies” or that the body is “the cause of evil in the soul.” He says that “matter cannot be evil,” for if it “has being in no way at all, then it is neither good nor evil,” but if “it has some kind of being then it must derive from the Good, since every being owes its existence to the Good.” The doctrine of the goodness of creation is thus a direct correlate of the doctrine of creatio ex nihilo and the doctrine of the incarnation. God spoke the universe into existence and called it good, and then the Word of God became flesh to redeem and sanctify those material creatures made in God’s image (144-145).

Without going into extensive additional analysis, we could summarize the tradition this way: God is good. Because God is good, God makes good things, and God does not make evil things. Matter is not evil. Created substance is not evil. By implication, if God created evil substances, God would be the author of evil. But God is not the author of evil. Yes, we humans are totally depraved. Yes, we have original and actual sin. But that does not mean that sin is part of our essence. The tradition has consistently said that evil does not have its own existence but is a privation of the good. That does not mean that evil is simply the absence of good but that evil is a stunningly profound and powerful corruption of God’s good creation. I would say it’s difficult to overstate the extent of that corruption. But, and we must maintain this, God does not create in such a way that evil is ever an essential component of any apart of his creation.

The Beauty of Perfect Love

McCall and Vickers go on to reflect on a passage from Julian of Norwich in which she describes the seeming insignificance of creation. In her vision, she saw something in her hand as small as a hazelnut. As she wonders what it is she holds, she hears, “it is all that is made.” That discovery leads to the thought that in comparison to the infiniteness of God, all that is made is so small that it might “suddenly fall into nothingness.” It appears insignificant. Then she hears and reflects:

“It endures, and ever shall endure, because God loves it. And so do all things partake of being: by the love of God.” In this little thing I saw the threefold nature: that God made it, that God loves it, and God keeps it.

God creates good things. And even when his good creation is corrupted by the alien presence of sin and evil, as horrific as it is, God still loves the works of his hand. He loves what he has made to the extent that he enters into in the person of Christ to redeem it and restore it from every corruption. Evil is the enemy, not the essence, of God’s creation.

Upcoming Interview

As I indicated above, I’m interviewing Tom McCall and Jason Vickers next week for an upcoming episode of the Theology Project podcast, which will be available on YouTube and on your favorite podcast platform. We’ll be discussing their brand new book Love Divine: A Wesleyan Systematic Theology (be sure to grab a copy!). What questions would you like me to ask? Paid subscribers can propose questions in the comments below on this post. I’ll read every suggestion and pick one or more to incorporate into the conversation.

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People sometimes ask about the most influential books I’ve read on the writing. I’ve read several, but there’s only one book on writing I’ve read several times. The book is Several short sentences about writing by Verlyn Klinkenborg. This one is the best.

With a PhD in English lit from Princeton, Klinkenborg is on the editorial board at The New York Times. And he’s written a number of books, several on rural life in upstate New York. He knows a thing or two about syntax.

I bought a copy of this particular one in 2017. I typically inscribe the year of acquisition inside the front cover of a book. One of my best friends recommended it. This is the friend who reads what I write and tells me what’s wrong with it—how to make it better—before I send it to the publisher. Jay and I became friends at the Bar-B-Que place where we both worked. It was my first real job after high school, and I continued there through college. Try to imagine two guys from Alabama making pork sandwiches for people while they talked literature, philosophy, theology and folk music. That’s what it was like.

Many years later, Jay suggested I read Klinkenborg. So, I did. And everything changed. I became obsessed with writing the shortest sentences possible. At the time, I was writing the manuscript for my book on The Letters to the Thessalonians (Seedbed), and I decided to do an experiment. One of the first lessons Klinkenborg will teach you is that:

“There are no rules, only experiments.”

My experiment was to write an entire chapter of the book using only short sentences. (Short sentences tend to be clearer than long sentences.) So I did, and I sent the chapter to Jay. He responded by saying something like: I know you’ve just read Klinkenborg—and you’re all in to some kind of Spartan brevity—but for goodness sake, man, mix in some longer sentences. It was terrible.

I share that story to make this point. The chapter was unpublishable, but writing it was a great experience. The attempt to produce 2,700 words without any sentences of more than five words is something every writer should try. The writing will be inelegant, of course; but it will train you to notice more easily when your sentences are becoming too lengthy, too often.

Once you’re able to identify when you’ve written too many long sentences, you’ll be able to do what you need to do. That is, mix it up. A couple of moderate to long sentences followed by a very short sentence will have a striking effect on the reader. They’ll notice it. They’ll appreciate it. They’ll remember it.

I recall noticing this sort of thing in Alister McGrath’s biography of C.S. Lewis years ago. McGrath would frequently end paragraphs with a very short sentence that punctuated what he’d just written. Those short sentences felt like an exclamation point on the paragraph itself. It was remarkable. I’ve never forgotten.

I ultimately rewrote that chapter in the book before completing the manuscript. Moving forward I was able to pay better attention to my sentences—to their length and, consequently, to their clarity.

I’ve recently published another book—Free to Be Holy (also Seedbed). One of the things that has come up a few times in promotional interviews and casual conversation is how clear the book is. In many ways, I’ve got Klinkenborg’s Several short sentences on writing to thank for that. He taught me to write short sentences. And those short sentences have made my writing more clear.

That’s why it’s the most important book I’ve read on writing.

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I’ve had the chance of late to meet with different people and groups across the Global Methodist Church to talk about the proposed Articles of Faith and why we should adopt them. Those conversations have been tremendous fun for me. You don’t have to know me well to know that discussing doctrine and theology is one of my favorite things. In the midst of those conversations, one question that has come up a few times is why should we adopt a new doctrinal statement when the one we have has served us so well for so long. And that’s a very good question. One we should think carefully about.

It’s no secret that I think we should adopt a new doctrinal statement for the Global Methodist Church, not because our doctrine has changed, but because there is a serious need to articulate some things that are not explicitly stated in our current doctrinal standards. Sometimes what’s not said is just as important as what is.

So what’s missing?

If you were familiar with the standard topics of basic Christian doctrine or systematic theology, and then you spent a few minutes reading the current Global Methodist doctrinal statements—the Articles of Religion and the Confession of Faith—you might notice that these statements do not include a statement on the doctrine of creation and the goodness of creation. This, dear reader, is a glaring omission.

Now someone might object. Is that really as significant as I here suggest? Don’t we Christians just know that God is the Creator and that he created the world good—indeed, very good? Of course, we do have those today who deny the existence of God and attribute the existence of the cosmos to natural processes. But other than that, why should the official teaching of the Global Methodist Church include a doctrine of creation? It may surprise you to find that the question bears on some of the most talked about issues in the public square today.

What goes into a doctrine of creation?

Before we get to the hotly debated cultural questions, let’s take a minute to talk about the standard components of the doctrine of creation. There are three essential parts to remember.

1. God created everything out of nothing. If you’ve heard one Latin phrase, there’s a good chance it’s creatio ex nihilo. The first building block of the doctrine of creation is that God created everything, and he created everything out of nothing. Creation is not pre-existent. Creation is not everlasting. Creation is not co-eternal with God.

   “Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made” (John 1:3 NIV).

   There are two categories: (1) that which has not been made and (2) that which has been made. The only being in the first category is the triune God. Everything else—all of it!—is in the second category. Everything that is not God had a starting point, a beginning. There was a time when nothing existed but God. Then God created all that there is. And he created it out of nothing.

2. Everything God created is good. Scripture testifies to this truth. At the end of Genesis 1, when God finished the work of creation, he declared all that he had made, not merely good, but very good. This is important because it means that God did not and does not create evil substances. The technical term “substance” just means what a thing is. And everything that God has made was made a good thing from the start. He does not create evil things. Yes, some things God has made have turned to evil and become deeply corrupted. Some angels have become corrupted, and every human being (with one very important exception) has become corrupted. But none were created corrupt. Any evil creature turned to evil from its original created goodness. This means that evil is not a thing, not a substance. It is standard axiom of classical Christian theology that evil is a privation of the good, a corruption of a previously good person or thing. To reiterate, God only makes good things.

3. God didn’t have to make anything. The technical term for this aspect of the doctrine of creation is “contingency.” If something is “contingent,” it depends on someone or something else for it to exist or to happen. Creation is contingent on God having created it and upholding it (though that last part gets into the doctrine of providence a bit). God was free to continue in his everlasting and eternal nature without creating anything at all. God is not required to create. He is not bound to create. He does not create anything that exists necessarily. Everything he made is contingent on his desire and action (which are actually the same thing) to make it.

So, if you ever need a quick bullet point list for the doctrine of creation, remember those three ingredients: (1) God made it out of nothing; (2) God made it good; and (3) God didn’t have to make it.

What is proposed?

I promise we’re going to get to the major cultural questions. There’s one more thing to do first. Given these essential components of the doctrine of creation, the proposed Articles of Faith include this paragraph:

IV. CREATION AND PROVIDENCE

We believe that the triune God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—created all things out of nothing, and nothing has been made that was not created as an act of God’s will. All that the triune God creates is good, and he made all things as a free expression of his perfect love. God continuously upholds, governs, and sustains all creation by his power and wisdom. Human free will and responsibility operate within this providential framework.

You can see how that article follows the basic contours outlined above. The reality of God’s good creation also has bearing on how we talk about what it means to be created as a human being. Consequently, the proposed articles also contain this paragraph:

V. HUMAN NATURE

We believe that human beings were created in the image and likeness of God, and that human nature was created good and endowed with dignity. We were made to love and glorify God in his perfect goodness, to love others, and to desire and work for their good. God created us male and female and designed us for family, community, and the stewardship of his good creation. We are now fallen into the corruption of sin and are very far gone from the state of original righteousness. Yet we remain of inestimable worth to God.

This statement on human nature simply applies the general doctrine of creation to human beings as a particular expression of God’s creative power. It is a very good thing to be created a human being in the image of God. Like everything else God made, we were created good. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting that we have not been corrupted. We certainly have. This proposed article keeps older language to say exactly that. And the subsequent article on “Sin and Free Grace” clarifies that even further. We have fallen into sin that has affected the full and total scope of our human being. No part of us is untouched by the corrupting power of transgression.

But—and this is a very important “but”—that does not change the fact that human substance was created originally good. That is a crucially important feature of Christian theology.

Why does it matter?

This doctrine of creation comes to bear on at least three issues that are matters of debate in the public forum. And without a robust doctrine of creation, we lack a firm doctrinal foundation to say very much about any of these questions. What are the questions?

1. The question of medical assistance in dying. It’s called MAID for short, and there will be legislation at this General Conference opposing it (I was a co-signer). If you are concerned about the increasing acceptance of MAID, then you want a solid doctrine of creation. Human beings are a part of God’s good creation and made in his image. And the unnatural and premature ending of the life of one made in God’s image is wrong. I understand the arguments about avoiding pain. I understand arguments about speeding up the inevitable. Nevertheless, this is a problem. We don’t have space to discuss here the resources of Christian theology for shepherding people through a lengthy and painful and slow death. But those resources are there, and they are valuable. There is much to draw on. My only point here is that if Christianity is to say anything about MAID, then we need to have first said something clear about the doctrine of creation. Without the doctrine of creation, we can still oppose MAID, but we won’t have a theological foundation for much of what we say.

2. The question of transgenderism. Is it possible for a man or woman to have been born in the wrong body? Might God have made a mistake in assigning each of us the sex and gender with which we were born? The doctrine of creation says that maleness and femaleness are created goods. Here’s how Methodist theologian Beth Felker Jones puts it:

   
   ”As Christians, we recognize that God made us good, embodied, sexually differentiated creatures. It matters that our embodied goodness—and our image bearing—includes both maleness and femaleness. Being created male and female isn’t the only thing that matters about being human, neither is it the most important thing. (That most important thing, most Christians would agree, is being created in God’s image.) But maleness and femaleness still matters. It’s embodied, and it’s God creative intention for us, and it’s good” (34).

   

   That quote is from Faithful: A Theology of Sex. And if you haven’t read it, you should. In fact, you should read it next. Jones helps us see why our understandings of human sexuality and gender are dependent on a serious doctrine of creation. If Global Methodists want a faithful basis for thoughtful engagement with this question, then we need to be thinking about the doctrine of creation.

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3. The question of abortion. This is not a new question. It’s been around for a long time. The early church actually encountered this question, and believers have consistently taken up the cause of the pre-born now for 2,000 years. By now you should be able to see how the doctrine of creation serves as a theological foundation to care both for the vulnerable women with very difficult choices and circumstances before them and to care for the babies they carry. Both are created in the image of God. A faithful doctrine of creation will orient us to the plight of both.

Conclusion

It’s no small omission that our current Global Methodist doctrinal standards do not address the doctrine of creation. This is an instance where what is missing matters. If the Global Methodist Church adopts the proposed Articles of Faith, we will have significantly greater clarity on what it means to be part of God’s good creation, and we’ll have doctrines that shepherd us as we engage some of the most frequently asked questions today.

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What does it mean to keep Sabbath? What are we thinking when we talk about rest? Is it just about taking a day off? Is it about recharging for what’s ahead? Is it a method of self-care? Is the point of Sabbath inactivity—legalistic ceasing from whatever we might otherwise be doing? Or is something else going on entirely?

Sabbath in Genesis

In The Lost World of Genesis One, John Walton reframes God’s Sabbath rest on the seventh day in light of its ancient context. He argues that the creation account in the opening chapters of Genesis is intended to be read as an ancient Near Eastern description of a deity constructing his temple and setting up its functions. This temple focus then shapes Walton’s interpretation of God’s rest on the seventh day. According to Walton, we need wrestle with:

the piece of information that everyone knew in the ancient world and to which most moderns are mostly oblivious. Deity rests in a temple, and only in a temple. This is what temples were built for. We might even say this is what a temple is—a place for divine rest (71).

What does divine rest entail? Most of us think of rest as disengagement from the cares, worries and tasks of life. What comes to mind is sleeping in or taking an afternoon nap. But in the ancient world rest is what results when a crisis has been resolved or when stability has been achieved, when things have “settled down.” Consequently normal routines can be established and enjoyed. For deity this means that the normal operations of the cosmos can be undertaken. This is more a matter of engagement without obstacles than disengagement without responsibilities (71-72).

So, rather than giving us an image of God kicking back in a Lazy Boy for his day off after a long week at work, Genesis provides an image of God as king dwelling in his temple as the place from which he rules the cosmos. Thus, the Psalmist:

Let us go to his dwelling place;
let us worship at his footstool—
arise, O Lord, and come to your resting place,
you and the ark of your might.
For the Lord has chosen Zion,
he has desired it for his dwelling:
“This is my resting place for ever and ever;
here I will sit enthroned, for I have desired it (132:7-8, 13-14).

God rests in his temple and from there reigns enthroned over all that he has made. Rest is a posture of governance when all is as it should be. Indeed, God’s rest is expressed as his unhindered and uninterrupted rule over the cosmos.

Consequently, in Walton’s view, human beings properly observe the Sabbath when we recognize that God is on his throne. It is God whose reign sustains us and provides for us. So, the Sabbath is a time to “Do whatever will reflect your love, appreciation, respect and awe of the God of all the cosmos” (146). While Sabbath is not a call to think ourselves sovereign over the cosmic order, it is our participation in God’s rightful reign.

Entering Sabbath in Narnia

Now I recognize that the idea of Sabbath as participation in God’s active rule might be a challenging concept. After all, we are conditioned to think of resting as ceasing activity not participating in activity. Given that difficulty, I’ve found C. S. Lewis’ depiction of Aslan in Narnia to be helpful in imagining Sabbath the way Walton describes it in his work on Genesis.

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Romans 9–11 are sometimes considered definitive chapters of scripture that establish Calvinism and falsify Arminianism. The assumption is that Arminians must either ignore these chapters or explain them away. My Calvinist friends (yes, I said friends) are sometimes surprised to discover that I happily make my case for Arminian theology based on Romans 9–11 and not despite them.

Paul’s vision of election in Romans 9–11 is also relevant for my reading of another key text often thought to lead inevitably to Calvinism, namely the “golden chain” of Romans 8:28–30. That is the way Justin Dillehay portrays his experience in an article titled “How Romans 8 Made Me a Calvinist”, which was written for The Gospel Coalition some time ago but continues to circulate online given its perennial topic. His testimony that the golden chain made him a Calvinist suggests that it indisputably rules out Arminian theology. With this response, I offer a few contextually oriented reasons why that is not the case. I’ll make my case by first taking up Paul’s view of election in Romans 9–11, and then I’ll draw on that to provide an Arminian interpretation of the golden chain.

Before we begin, let me say that I appreciate the tone of Dillehay’s essay. He fairly represents the differences between Calvinism and Arminianism. He rightly recognizes that Arminians see God as influencing people to receive the salvation God alone provides, which stands in contrast to the Calvinist view that God works in people to effect and guarantee the salvation that he alone provides. He also explains how he came to see the overall movement in Romans 8:30 from divine foreknowing to glorifying as being more about guarantee than influence. Thus, Romans 8 made him a Calvinist. But this need not be. Arminian theology offers a faithful interpretation of Romans 8:28–30. Indeed, Arminian theology celebrates these verses.

Election in Romans 9–11

If you were to sit down to read Romans 9, you may very well find yourself tempted to adopt an unconditional view of individual election. It certainly seems to be there, at least on first reading. After all, the apostle declares that God’s election comes before birth and depends not on anything we’ve done – good or bad (9:11). It’s there in black and white, “I have loved Jacob, but I have hated Esau” (9:13). And again, “it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God who has mercy” (9:16). I could go on.

But if you were tempted toward a Reformed view of unconditional individual election by reading Romans 9, you might find Paul’s argument somewhat surprising when you arrive at Romans 11. After all, it’s there Paul entertains the possibility that God might exert his sovereign power to “cut off” justified believers if they fall into unbelief. That warning comes in the context of Romans 11:17–25 where Paul addresses the Roman recipients by drawing attention to their trust in Jesus, “You stand only through faith,” (11:20). And since we’ve read Romans 3–4, we know standing by faith means they are justified. They have peace with God (Romans 5), union with Christ (Romans 6), and are indwelt by the Holy Spirit (Romans 8). Yet Paul does not say something like: you stand by faith, and that means you’ll be preserved to the end. Instead, the apostle warns, “perhaps he [God] will not spare you” (11:21). He puts it differently a few verses later, when he says that if the recipients do not continue in faith and in God’s kindness, “you also will be cut off” (11:22). Note the significance of these verses. The apostle Paul entertains and warns about the real possibility that people who are justified by faith may, at some point, be cut off and not spared. Those verses make me Arminian.

Consider the implications. If Paul thinks justified persons can be cut off from grace, then he cannot think of individual election to salvation in unconditional terms. And in fact, he does not. In Romans 11:17–25, the condition for staying in God’s kindness is belief (Greek pistis), and the condition for being cut off is unbelief (Greek apistis). Paul sets forth his understanding of this condition first in terms of unbelieving Israel in 11:20, “They were broken off because of their unbelief (apistis).” In contrast, and as we saw above, the Roman recipients currently stand by justifying faith (pistis, 11:20). It’s worth noting that Paul’s pronouns here are singular and not plural. He is addressing the individual member of the Roman congregation about his or her personal faith. And what is the condition under which such an individual might be cut off? For Paul, it’s the same as it was for the individual Israelite, namely apistis, or unbelief. Given that Paul thinks these justified-by-faith people might be cut off for falling into unbelief, he cannot at the same time consistently think that their individual election is unconditional. To the contrary, the apostle portrays individual entrance into ultimate and final salvation as conditioned upon continued faith in Christ. But if this is true, what are we to make of Romans 9 and the temptation to build a doctrine of unconditional election upon it? Fortunately, Arminian readings of Romans 9 offer help.

Reconsidering Romans 9

Whatever we ultimately say about Romans 9–11, we must acknowledge that these chapters constitute a single coherent argument. And if Paul portrays individual election as conditional in chapter 11, then whatever he says about election in chapter 9 must be coherent with what he says in chapter 11. So, let’s take another look at chapter 9.

The argument begins with God’s promise to Abraham to give him a son. The focus of the text is the priority of God’s promise to do something for Abraham that the man could not do for himself, namely give him a family. The promise is then traced through Abraham’s family to Rebecca and her sons – Jacob and Esau. That brings us to Romans 9:11–12 where Paul asserts the unconditionality of election and substantiates it with a quote from Genesis 25:23, “The elder (Esau) shall serve the younger (Jacob).” And this is an instance where the context of the Old Testament quotation is critical. In Genesis 25:23, God says this to Rebecca as Esau and Jacob struggle within her, “Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger.” Here the choice of Jacob over Esau is explicitly construed with their representative function in view. The point of the choice has nothing to do with either man’s individual election to salvation. Are we to conclude from this that Esau is burning in hell? That doesn’t come up. What is said about Jacob and Esau has everything to do with the election and passing over of the groups, respectively, who will descend from them. If we interpret Paul’s Old Testament quote in light of its original context, then we must conclude that unconditional election in Romans 9–11 is unconditional corporate election and not unconditional individual election.

It’s significant that the notion of corporate election shows up at the beginning of Paul’s argument in Romans 9–11 and suggests the subsequent parts of the argument should be read in light of that corporate dynamic. This suggestion is substantiated by the presence of corporate language as the argument progresses. Romans 9:25–26 highlights the possibility of movement from non-elect status into the elect community. That’s what is meant when those described as “not my people” people are made part of God’s beloved and chosen family. Someone might object by pointing to Pharaoh in 9:17. Is he not an individual elected to destruction? But Pharaoh doesn’t here function as the paradigmatic reprobate destined for damnation. Paul says nothing about Pharaoh’s eternal destiny. The point is that God used Pharaoh (who likely represents Egypt) as an instrument to vindicate his promises to the Patriarchs. This God keeps his promises to his people. And lest we think such an instrumental use of Pharaoh might be unfair or unjust. Let’s remember that the Egyptian ruler is an idolatrous pagan oppressor of the people of God. He is not neutral, and God is not unfair. Pharaoh deserved everything he got. Paul’s point is not to show us some unconditionally elect individuals in contrast to other unconditionally reprobate individuals. His point is to vindicate God’s faithfulness to his covenant people as the God who always keeps his promises. And God is not unjust to employ sinners in the amplification of his glory in keeping his word.

To summarize the argument to this point, Paul articulates two categories of election in Romans 9–11. One is unconditional corporate election to salvation, and the other is conditional individual election to salvation. The parts of Romans 9–11 that describe unconditional election are dealing with the group. The parts of Romans 9–11 that describe conditional election are dealing with the individual. This solves the apparent inconsistency and provides a framework for a coherent reading of the whole of Romans 9–11.

What about the “golden chain”?

Given what we’ve found regarding election in Romans 9–11, what can we say about the nature of election in Romans 8:28–30? Alongside other Arminian interpreters, I suggest that we should understand the so-called “golden chain” in terms of unconditional corporate election to salvation. We’ve already seen that Paul’s unconditional language applies to groups, while his conditional language applies to individuals. So, if God will unconditionally glorify those he foreknows, then it suggests Paul is here thinking primarily of the group over the individual.

The question then becomes whether there is evidence in the immediate context to substantiate this claim. It turns out there is. Paul employs group designations in a variety of places in Romans 8. Consider, for one, his use of familial language. Sons (or children) of God is an expressly corporate designation (8:14, 16, 17, 19, 21). That Paul is thinking of the group when he uses that term is evident in the masculine “sons” (Greek huioi), which is an inclusive term describing the group of individuals, whether men or women, who are indwelt by the Spirit of God. That familial image is also prominent in Romans 8:28–30, which suggests those verses should be understood with a view to their corporate dimensions. The golden chain is about membership in “a large family” (8:29). It is about the group of those who are foreknown, predestined, called, justified, and glorified. As we saw in Romans 11:17-25, individuals may move into that group on the condition of faith or out of it on the condition of unbelief.

Other arguments could also be made. For example, I’ve argued extensively that Paul’s hope for resurrection in Romans 8 should be understood with an emphasis on the social group (Paul and the Resurrected Body, 134–165). This plays out particularly in terms of Paul’s incorporative Christology and pneumatology. Suffice it to say there are plenty of well-established reasons for thinking Paul’s view of unconditional election is primarily a corporate category. That is not to disregard the individual reality of personal salvation; it is to put the conditionality of personal salvation in its proper context. God saves individuals, but he saves them as part of a group.

Because of, not despite

Let’s dispense with the notion that Arminians can only be Arminians despite texts like Romans 8:28–30 and Romans 9–11. We Arminians are not engaged in efforts to sidestep or explain away those passages. To the contrary, our entire theological system is built on careful exegesis of these texts and confidence in their trustworthiness. That’s why Romans 9–11 (and Romans 8) make me Arminian.

3 Book to learn more about Arminian theology

Here are three of my favorite books for learning about Arminian theology. All of them are written by scholars but will be accessible to interested Christians eager to dig into very important questions. The descriptions below are excerpts from the publisher. Check em out.

1. Jacob Arminius: Theologian of Grace by Keith Stanglin and Thomas McCall

   Keith D. Stanglin and Thomas H. McCall’s Jacob Arminius offers a constructive synthesis of the current state of Arminius studies. There is a chasm separating technical, scholarly discussions of Arminius and popular-level appeals to his thought. The authors seek to bridge the scholarly and general discussions, providing an account based on interaction with all the primary sources and latest secondary research that will be helpful to the scholar as well as comprehensible and relevant to the undergraduate student. Get it on Amazon
   

2. Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities by Roger Olsen

   
   In this book, Roger Olson sets forth classical Arminian theology and addresses the myriad misunderstandings and misrepresentations of it through the ages. Irenic yet incisive, Olson argues that classical Arminian theology has a rightful place in the evangelical church because it maintains deep roots within Reformational theology, even though it maintains important differences from Calvinism. Get it on Amazon
   

3. Why I Am Not a Calvinist by Jerry Walls and Joseph Dongel

   
   What's wrong with Calvinism? Since the Reformation, Calvinism has dominated much of evangelical thought. It has been so well established that many Christians simply assume it to be the truest expression of Christian doctrine. But Calvinism has some serious biblical and theological weaknesses that unsettle laypeople, pastors and scholars alike. God is sovereign. All evangelical Christians--whether Arminians or Calvinists--have no doubt about this fundamental truth. But how does God express his sovereignty? Is God a master puppeteer, pulling our strings? Or has he graciously given his children freedom to respond to his love?In this eminently readable book, Jerry L. Walls and Joseph R. Dongell explore the flaws of Calvinist theology. WhyI Am Not a Calvinist is a must-read for all who struggle with the limitations of this dominant perspective within evangelical theology. Get it on Amazon

How do we talk about the Bible? What are its properties? How does it function? Or, what is it and what does it do? The questions are important because the Bible is important. If we share the conviction that God speaks to us through the Scriptures, and that he does so in a way that graciously transforms us, then its worth devoting some time to clarifying how we speak about this ancient text. In this essay, I make no attempt to be creative or novel, only to offer what I take to be a classical account of Scripture. We’ll begin with one key distinction. Then I’ll share four essential elements of a full-orbed and robust doctrine of Scripture.

What the Bible is and what the Bible does

The key distinction is between the Bible’s properties and its function. The properties of Scripture have to do with what it is. They describe the text of Scripture. The function of the Bible describes what it does. This describes how God relates to us and works in us by means of Scripture.

Some denominations or theological traditions may, at times, focus on one of these over the other. But a strong and healthy doctrine of Scripture holds both together. We want a well-rounded understanding of the Bible. That will entail both articulating its properties and giving an account of its function.

Four essential elements to the Doctrine of Scripture (what it is)

If you want a robust account of the Bible, there are at least four areas to focus on: inspiration, authority, truthfulness, and infallibility. Let’s take each in turn.

1. Inspiration

The first property of Scripture to identify is inspiration. This is simply a way of affirming that Scripture has its source in God. It comes from God, not from us. The Bible teaches this about itself. The inspiration of Scripture is affirmed in 1 Timothy 3:16. And 2 Peter 1:21 teaches that prophecy is not of human origin; instead, the prophets “spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.”

This is one reason we talk about the Bible as divine revelation. Since the Bible is from God, it reveals God. Through the Bible God makes himself known to us.

The Bible doesn’t go into detail about how God inspired it. That has resulted in various theories of inspiration. Some are more popular than others, and this is something on which there is some room for disagreement.

A dictation theory of inspiration basically sees the biblical authors as God’s scribes, but it’s not widely held because it fails to account for the variety of expression, grammar, and style on display by the many different human authors of Scripture. Verbal Plenary inspiration means that the whole Bible is inspired down to the choice and location of each word. Every word is what God wants it to be and where God wants it to be. Dynamic inspiration means that God inspired the ideas or thoughts but not the exact words on the page. There are other theories of inspiration out there, with varying levels of strength and weakness. These are a few of the main ones.

One thing to keep in mind is that however God inspired the Bible, he worked with the human authors in such a way as to preserve “the human element.” Different authors have very different writing styles. Their preferred word choices vary. Inspiration means that the Bible is from God, but it isn’t from God in such a way as to remove the agency of the human authors.

Before moving on, note the difference between inspiration and illumination. “Inspiration” describes how the Spirit relates to the original writers of the Bible. “Illumination” describes how the Spirit relates to readers of the Bible through the ages. We invite the Spirit to illumine our reading of the Scriptures, to help us in the task of interpretation, to give us insight, understanding, and wisdom. But the Spirit does not inspire us the way the Spirit inspired the prophets and apostles. The distinction is crucial.

2. Authority

The second property of Scripture is authority, and the authority of Scripture derives from its inspiration. If God inspired the Scriptures (and he did), and if God is the highest authority that exists (and he is), then Scripture is authoritative. God exercises his authority through the Bible. And the authority of the Bible is intrinsic; that is to say it is authoritative, not because we accept it, but it has the property of authority by virtue of being from God, who is himself the ultimate authority.

To say that Scripture is authoritative is to say that it is normative. It is the highest and chief rule of faith and practice. That’s not to say there are not other sources that instruct and inform us with regard to faith and practice (e.g., the Creeds). It is to say that the Bible stands chief above them all. All other authorities are understood in light of the chief authority of Scripture.

As with inspiration, there can be a diversity of opinions on where the authority lies. For some, the authoritative text is made up of the original manuscripts (i.e., the autographs). For others, the authoritative text is the canonically authorized text (i.e., the text declared authoritative by the Church). I won’t get into the strengths and weaknesses of each position. I offer them to give you a sense of the doctrinal landscape.

3. Trustworthiness

Number three is that Scripture has the property of trustworthiness. The Bible is true. This property is often put negatively by saying that Scripture is without error in all it affirms. Theology is often put in the form of affirmations and denials, and I take the affirmation of Scripture’s truthfulness and the denial that it errs to be largely synonymous—two sides of the proverbial coin, if you will.

Like inspiration, biblical trustworthiness is deduced from biblical inspiration. If God is true and always speaks truly, and if the Bible is inspired by God as self-revelation, then the Bible is true. Once again, that’s not to overlook the human element. It is simply to take appropriate account for the divine origin of Scripture.

4. Infallibility

Infallibility is the property of Scripture by which it is not liable to fail in its purposes. I sometimes call this the effectiveness of Scripture. It also can be framed to overlap with the concept of the sufficiency of Scripture. That is, the Bible accomplishes the purposes God intends for it to accomplish.

Inductively, the Bible affirms its own effectiveness,

all Scripture…is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness (2 Tim 3:16 NIV).

so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it (Isaiah 55:11 NIV).

Whatever the intended job is, God’s Word gets the job done.

Deductively, infallibility is grounded in inspiration (do you see a pattern emerging?). If God always accomplishes his purposes, and if God inspired the Bible according to his purposes, then the Bible will accomplish what God purposes for it.

Some debate has arisen around the concept of infallibility (especially in the last 50 years). Some take infallibility to be synonymous with inerrancy. Others now use infallibility to mean that the Bible is reliable in matters of faith and practice. Additional definitions have arisen; in fact, John Feinberg lists seven different definitions of biblical infallibility, though several of them do overlap somewhat in the way they describe Scripture’s effectiveness.1 I take it that if we’re not going to understand infallibility as synonymous with inerrancy (and I think a distinction should be made), then infallibility should be taken to mean that Scripture is not liable to fail in the purposes God intends for it.

The revised concept of infallibility emerged in the late 70s and was formalized in a 1980 book called The Authority and Interpretation of the Bible by Jack Rogers and Donald McKim. Infallibility was framed as limited inerrancy and as a contrasting alternative to the language of inerrancy. Consequently, some have adopted the view that affirms infallibility in the sense of trustworthy in matters of faith and practice instead of the view that affirms the full trustworthiness of the Bible in the sense of without error in all it affirms. Note the difference in scope.

But this is a false choice based on a conceptual shift in the language of infallibility. Infallibility is not “inerrancy light” (I read that somewhere). Even if it were, who decides which parts of the Bible count as “faith and practice”? Take the question of sexual practice. For most of church history, there was broad consensus that the Bible truthfully and authoritatively located sexual practices only within the context of covenantal heterosexual monogamy. But that is now contested in North America and parts of Europe, though the vast majority of global Christianity still maintains the historical teaching. But that raises the question: who decides which practices are normative and which parts aren’t? (I have thoughts on that question, but those will have to await another essay.)

The point is this: truthfulness and infallibility (or effectiveness) are not options on a multiple choice test. And if they were, the correct answer would be “all of the above.” We are not meant to choose one or the other. This is a classic case of both/and, not either/or.

What Scripture Does

Once we are clear on the properties of Scripture, we are then in a position to reflect theologically on the function of Scripture. What it does is built on what it is. So, given that Scripture is inspired, authoritative, true, and infallible, we are in a position to ask: how does Scripture function?

The Holy Spirit works through the words of Scripture to reveal the triune God, convict us of sin and rebellion, convert us to Christ, and transform us in holiness. When we do not respond to conviction with repentance, then Scripture confirms God’s judgment against us.

The function of Scripture as a means of grace for our salvation helps us see why the Bible takes such a prominent place in our worship. In the Bible, God speaks. He speaks truthfully, and he speaks in a way that transforms us. As the text of Scripture is proclaimed, the Holy Spirit works in power to convict, convert, and consecrate those who hear. As we receive the Word in faith, we are formed as individuals and as a community so that the character of the triune God revealed in the person of Christ and enabled by the Holy Spirit might come to increasingly and consistently characterize the whole of our lives—again, individually and corporately.

One last thing before we wrap up. It’s crucial to keep properties and function in that order. Why? Because if Scripture is not inspired, authoritative, true, and effective, then it cannot function as divine self-revelation or as a means of grace for our salvation. The function logically follows the properties. If we address one and not the other, then we don’t have a full doctrine of Scripture. And if we get them out of order, we’ve pulled the foundation out from under the building.

Conclusion

We want a well-rounded and robust doctrine of Scripture. And such a doctrine of Scripture will address both the features of the Bible and the function of the Bible. It’s worth reiterating that what we’ve articulated here represents a classical formulation of the doctrine of the Bible. We do well to orient ourselves and our churches to these basic building blocks of a Christian doctrine of Scripture. Pastors, incorporate these concepts into your preaching. Laity, talk about these matters with your small group. And as we develop our understanding of these things, we’ll be increasingly able and confident to clearly articulate both what the Bible is and what the Bible does.

Why don’t Christians follow all of the laws in the Old Testament? The question comes up frequently in church, and theologians have written more than a few pages addressing it. One of the most common answers in the Protestant tradition is that the Old Testament laws are properly divided into three categories—civil laws, ceremonial laws, and moral laws. The civil laws governed Israel as a nation. The ceremonial laws structured Israel’s worship. The moral laws identify universal ethical norms required by God of his people. The civil and ceremonial laws are no longer binding, but the moral laws are. Or, so the argument goes.

J.D. Greear calls this threefold distinction one of “the most helpful ways to think about” the Old Testament laws, even though he notes things “blended together” for ancient Israel. In an article for The Gospel Coalition, Justin Dillehay acknowledges that Old Testament scholars commonly express resistance to subdividing Torah this way, even as he argues for a retrieval of the threefold distinction.

Is the civil/ceremonial/moral distinction within Torah a legitimate reading? And if it is, are we right in claiming that the moral laws remain in force for the world-wide church? Or, is it a later idea anachronistically imposed on an ancient text? One biblical text that bears on these questions is Acts 15, which records a meeting of the apostles commonly called the Jerusalem Council. What was the question before them? It was the question of gentile relationship to Torah. Must gentile converts be circumcised and required to keep the law of Moses (Acts 15:5)? If the threefold distinction were a natural way for ancient Jews to read Torah, this would have been a great time to apply it. What stands out to me about Acts 15 is that the apostles did not acknowledge (or even appear to know about) what we call the threefold distinction of the law.

Why not civil, ceremonial, and moral?

There are several reasons to be hesitant regarding the threefold distinction. First, Torah simply isn’t neatly divided into these categories. Representative commands from all three categories are seamlessly interwoven throughout the text without much in the way of a suggestion that any such distinction is there. Take Leviticus 19 for example, which begins with commands to respect parents and avoid idolatry (3-4). Those would seem to be matters of morality. Or, is idolatry ceremonial since it’s related to worship? Then the text moves immediately to the regulation of a fellowship offering, which would seem to be ceremonial (5-8). Is material in 19:19-10 to leave some of the harvest for foreigners and the poor a civil command because it regulates an economic relationship? That is followed by a few moral commands: don’t steal, lie, swear falsely by God’s name, or rob your neighbor (11-13). But in the same breath we get labor regulations, which could be considered matters of civil governance (13). I could go on, but you get the point. The threefold distinction seems to divide Torah in a way that it does not naturally divide.

Second, the Bible seems to treat Torah as a singular whole. Deuteronomy 4:2 and 12:32 forbid adding to or taking away from Torah. Every law must be observed. This seems to rest on the assumption that Torah is a unified whole and not to be divided into categories, some of which continue for some while others do not. In other words, selective obedience is condemned. Drawing on Deuteronomy 27:26, Paul reminds the Galatians that the Law condemns those who don’t keep the whole thing. James reminds his readers that to break one law is to violate the whole law (2:10).

Third, some point out that Torah is a covenant between God and the Israelites. It is a singular covenant that should be understood holistically. And it was intended specifically to regulate God’s relationship with ethnic Israel, not humanity at large. Yes, foreigners who live among the Israelites are regulated by Torah. But as a covenant, Torah was meant for Israel, not Assyria or other gentile nations. Consequently, we should be hesitant to take a covenant meant for one people and subdivide this or that part of it out to one group or another.

What do we learn from Acts 15?

How gentile believers relate to Torah is exactly the question up for consideration at the Jerusalem Council in Acts 15. Paul and Barnabas have just returned from their first missionary excursion. They’ve seen receptivity to the gospel among the nations to whom they went, and they’ve seen the Spirit work graciously in the lives of their gentile converts. That raised questions. If the nations are being incorporated by God’s Spirit into Abraham’s family, then how much, if any, of the law must they observe? Some were insisting on circumcision for gentile converts (Acts 15:1, 5). In contrast, Paul and Barnabas firmly disputed that position (15:2). Consequently, representatives from the churches gathered with the elders and apostles in Jerusalem to take the question under consideration.

In the course of their deliberations, Peter and James reflect on the way God has begun incorporating the nations into their number through Spirit-reception confirmed by signs and wonders. James specifically draws attention to the way this was anticipated by the prophet Amos (Acts 15:16-18). Then they conclude that gentile converts should observe only these four commands: “abstain from food polluted by idols, from sexual immorality, from the meat of strangled animals and from blood” (15:20 NIV).

Why these four prohibitions? Bill Arnold puts it this way:

The best explanation is that these four are based concretely on Leviticus 17-18, and especially on the recurring phrase “the aliens who reside” (NRSV) or “the immigrants who live” (CEB) among the ancient Israelites. The apostles systematically searched these two chapters of Mosaic law and found five occurrences of the phrase (Leviticus 17:8,10,12,13; 18:26). These occurrences explain what non-Israelite foreigners were obligated to do while living in ancient Israel. And the four things prohibited in Leviticus are then repeated in the exact order as listed in the official version of the Apostolic Decree in Acts 15:29.

Arnold continues by noting that the apostles seem to have thought they were simply requiring of gentile converts the very things that Torah always required of gentiles who lived among the people of God. This makes sense of Acts 15:21 which substantiates the prohibitions by reminding those present that Moses has been read in every city for a long time. They aren’t doing away with Torah and getting creative with their new converts. They are treating the gentiles among them the way Moses commanded the Israelites to treat the gentiles among them.

Implications for the so-called “moral law”

What’s interesting to me is how the apostles’ answer to the question of gentiles and the law was quite different from the way that question has often been approached later in church history. When faced with the question of whether and which part of the Old Testament is binding on the gentile church, they did not articulate the threefold distinction we so often get in later theology. They didn’t divide the law into moral, civil, and ceremonial categories and then apply the moral designation to the gentiles. They show no awareness whatsoever of the so-called threefold distinction of the law. That should, at least, give us pause in adopting such a category ourselves.

Even more, the prohibitions they selected from Leviticus 17 and 18 span multiple categories in the threefold distinction. Leviticus 17:7 regulates food sacrificed to idols, and 17:8 regulates gentile offerings and sacrifices. Sacrifices are squarely in the ceremonial category. But the prohibition of sexual immorality taken from Leviticus 18 would be seen as continuing moral laws under the threefold distinction (if it were an actual distinction). So, when the apostles select the laws for gentiles to keep, they select some from the ceremonial category and some from the moral category. That itself flies in the face of the suggestion that moral and ceremonial laws are to be categorized separately with moral continuing and ceremonial ceasing, since the apostles applied ceremonial regulations to gentile believers.

Dispensing with the threefold distinction

If Acts 15 is our guide, dividing Torah into civil, ceremonial, and moral categories is problematic at best. And the suggestion that one category continues and the others do not is contradicted by the text itself. That doesn’t mean the question of how we apply the Old Testament to the church is easily answered. But it does suggest that the threefold distinction is probably not the way to go.

One alternative (and better) approach to the question of Christian morality and ethics is to recognize that the Mosaic law represents God’s covenant with Israel, and, as such, it teaches a great deal. It reveals God’s character and saving power. It reveals much about human depravity and rebellion. It offers a vision of holiness as a defining marker of the people of God. And it clarified and restrained sinful departures from God’s best intent for his people. Again, we have much to learn from Torah.

But when it comes to Christian ethics and morality, we don’t just pick up Old Testament laws and apply them directly to ourselves. Instead, we look at how the New Testament teaches us to apply them to ourselves and our situations. We look to the way Jesus intensified Torah in the Sermon on the Mount (Matt 5-7) and to the two greatest commandments (22:36-40; cf Deut 6:4-5). We look to the way Paul frames love as fulfilling the law (Rom 13:10). We consider what the New Testament means when it speaks of “the Law of Christ” (Gal 6:2).

In short, if a command is picked up and carried forward into the New Testament, we are to obey it, not because its an Old Testament law but because it has become a New Testament command. To be clear, I’m not denigrating the Old Testament, setting it aside, or minimizing its importance. Instead, the point is that we should read Moses in light of his original context and in light of the whole canon. Even more, we should resist the temptation to impose foreign distinctions to the Old Testament and then arbitrarily apply them in our day.