When I came home from work the other day, I had two unpleasant facts to deal with, one known and one a surprise. I expected the house to be empty, since my wife and children were still on vacation away from me. What I didn’t expect was a broken air conditioner.
Since it was already late, I suffered through the heat until morning and called for a repair. By that evening, I had civilized temperatures again. Of course, part of my reaction to all this was to be grateful for normally having cold air and to remember what life is like for billions of people around the world; things easy to forget.
But during that one night of unpleasantness, I realized something else. Although I missed my family, I was glad they weren’t there. Given the choice of either my whole family suffering or only myself, I definitely prefer what did in fact happen.
So, thank you, God, that the unit didn’t break while we were all gone or while we were all here, but precisely in that small window between the two. Sometimes God’s masterful providence only appears when you squint to find it.
What others can't see may not be there.
Recently reading an excellent book on preaching has helped me see just how easy it is to get the Bible wrong if you aren’t vigilant in the way you study it. I don’t mean merely trying hard to seek what’s really being said. This is obviously necessary. The real vigilance is in knowing our own personal tendencies toward error and not letting them misguide us.
For instance, one historically significant but bad method of interpreting the Bible is called “allegorizing,” an approach which treats a text as if it has two meanings: the obvious literal one and a “deeper,” “spiritual” one hidden from the casual observer. The allegorizer usually takes some superficial detail of the passage and draws from it a conclusion which is clever and fascinating but not reliable. The connection or insight is plausible enough to captivate our imaginations but not sturdy enough to sustain the weight handled by true doctrine. The more creative and imaginative you are, the easier it is to allegorize Bible texts. I know because I’m creative and imaginative.
But this is precisely the problem. In pretending to uncover the “real” meaning of a passage, allegorizing actually jettisons the authority of Scripture in favor of the authority of the preacher’s imagination, which in practice then becomes the only functional constraint for his enticingly unique interpretations. Just like in math and science, if others can’t duplicate your work, it’s not sound exegesis.
Note: The book is “Preaching Christ from the Old Testament” by Sidney Greidanus
For instance, one historically significant but bad method of interpreting the Bible is called “allegorizing,” an approach which treats a text as if it has two meanings: the obvious literal one and a “deeper,” “spiritual” one hidden from the casual observer. The allegorizer usually takes some superficial detail of the passage and draws from it a conclusion which is clever and fascinating but not reliable. The connection or insight is plausible enough to captivate our imaginations but not sturdy enough to sustain the weight handled by true doctrine. The more creative and imaginative you are, the easier it is to allegorize Bible texts. I know because I’m creative and imaginative.
But this is precisely the problem. In pretending to uncover the “real” meaning of a passage, allegorizing actually jettisons the authority of Scripture in favor of the authority of the preacher’s imagination, which in practice then becomes the only functional constraint for his enticingly unique interpretations. Just like in math and science, if others can’t duplicate your work, it’s not sound exegesis.
Note: The book is “Preaching Christ from the Old Testament” by Sidney Greidanus
It's in the way that you use it.
On the plane flying back from St. Louis this week, I happened to be sitting in front of a father with an infant lap child, a situation most people disdain but which I love because I actually enjoy the sounds children make. About an hour into the flight, I was feeling drowsy, so I decided to stop reading and take a nap. Before reclining my seat, however, I turned around and asked the man if it was okay to do so. A bit startled by the courtesy, he said it was fine and thanked me for asking.
Now, I obviously did this because I wanted to be sure I didn’t inadvertently harm the child. But it immediately made me realize that it’s always a nice thing to warn the person before I recline. After all, how many times have I wished for some such warning from the person in front of me? The Golden Rule is pretty clear on this question.
“But it’s my right to recline my seat! Why should I have to ask permission to use my rights?” Well, the funny thing about rights is that their existence tells you nothing about a person. Their use, however, says quite a lot. And the most powerful use of any right is the choice to not, or at least to do so carefully…as if you love other people.
Now, I obviously did this because I wanted to be sure I didn’t inadvertently harm the child. But it immediately made me realize that it’s always a nice thing to warn the person before I recline. After all, how many times have I wished for some such warning from the person in front of me? The Golden Rule is pretty clear on this question.
“But it’s my right to recline my seat! Why should I have to ask permission to use my rights?” Well, the funny thing about rights is that their existence tells you nothing about a person. Their use, however, says quite a lot. And the most powerful use of any right is the choice to not, or at least to do so carefully…as if you love other people.
Who's Your Accountant?
Imagine for a moment that you have received some significant insight about God or life which will definitely benefit other people who hear it. Now consider three possible scenarios for sharing that insight.
Scenario 1: Your name is attached to it (so you get personal credit), and it reaches a total of one thousand people.
Scenario 2: It circulates anonymously (so no one gets credit), and it reaches one million people.
Presumably, you would rather benefit a million people, even if it means you don’t get credit, right? But let’s see if your principles hold up under:
Scenario 3: Someone plagiarizes it as his own (thereby getting the credit for himself), but it reaches one billion people.
Would you still choose to benefit the maximum number of people?
Finally, just to put all of this in perspective, no one knows for sure who wrote the Book of Hebrews. No one except God, that is.
Plagiarism is the gravest of sins mostly to people who don’t trust God to do their accounting.
Scenario 1: Your name is attached to it (so you get personal credit), and it reaches a total of one thousand people.
Scenario 2: It circulates anonymously (so no one gets credit), and it reaches one million people.
Presumably, you would rather benefit a million people, even if it means you don’t get credit, right? But let’s see if your principles hold up under:
Scenario 3: Someone plagiarizes it as his own (thereby getting the credit for himself), but it reaches one billion people.
Would you still choose to benefit the maximum number of people?
Finally, just to put all of this in perspective, no one knows for sure who wrote the Book of Hebrews. No one except God, that is.
Plagiarism is the gravest of sins mostly to people who don’t trust God to do their accounting.
When imitating love doesn't work
Every advice book in the relationship section of the bookstore will tell you the same basic thing: treat your spouse better than they deserve. If you do this consistently, they will eventually start treating you better than they currently do.
Well, I have a simple question: what if they don’t?
What if you spend time with your wife, buy her gifts, and tell her sweet things, but she never does anything back for you? What if you praise your husband lavishly, make yourself pretty, and please him physically, but he never does anything back for you? What then?
You see, the in vogue wisdom is to use generous behavior as a strategy for self-gratification. But trying to pry rewards out of a spouse’s stingy heart with nice treatment isn’t love, it’s manipulation. Love gives because it wants to give, not because giving is a good investment strategy. In fact, love revels in making terrible investments.
And unless I’m horribly mistaken, God gave us the institution of marriage precisely so that we would have the opportunity to practice love when there isn’t a thing for us to gain by doing so.
Well, I have a simple question: what if they don’t?
What if you spend time with your wife, buy her gifts, and tell her sweet things, but she never does anything back for you? What if you praise your husband lavishly, make yourself pretty, and please him physically, but he never does anything back for you? What then?
You see, the in vogue wisdom is to use generous behavior as a strategy for self-gratification. But trying to pry rewards out of a spouse’s stingy heart with nice treatment isn’t love, it’s manipulation. Love gives because it wants to give, not because giving is a good investment strategy. In fact, love revels in making terrible investments.
And unless I’m horribly mistaken, God gave us the institution of marriage precisely so that we would have the opportunity to practice love when there isn’t a thing for us to gain by doing so.
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