The gospel writers picture Jesus as retracing the steps of Israel. Reminiscent of Israel, Jesus spent time in Egypt, entered the Jordan (baptism), was tempted in the wilderness, called twelve apostles (like twelve tribes), spoke God’s word like Moses (Sermon on the Mount), preached five sermons (compare the Pentateuch) in Matthew, performed mighty deeds of deliverance (sings, wonders, and exorcisms), and confronted imperial powers. Where Israel had failed, Jesus had been a faithful Son. His followers were to take up the task of being God’s servant people. He worked with a faithful band of disciples, he taught them about life in what he called “the kingdom of God,” and he introduced them to the new covenant that bound them together in forgiveness and love” (Bruce L. Shelley, Church History in Plain Israel, 4).
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Reading Notes: The Spreading Flame by F.F. Bruce
Bruce, F.F. The Spreading Flame: The Rise and Progress of Christianity from its First Beginnings to the Conversion of the English. 1958. Reprint. Paternoster Press, 1981.
I have read a handful of books by F.F. Bruce (New Testament History, Acts commentaries), this book was equally good. Also, generally speaking, I appreciate Bruce’s straightforward style of writing.
This book traces the growth of the Church from its inception until the 8th century. During this historical survey Bruce time and time again clearly depicts the context for each of the episodes he visits, e.g., the correlation between the Roman peace of Augustus’ reign and Paul’s words in Galatians 4:4, “when the fullness of time came, God sent forth his Son” illustrates how the world was both politically and religiously primed for the advent of the gospel (p. 24); the interlocutory Church Orthodox through its Ecumenical Councils vis-à-vis internal heretical pressures (Chapters 25-26, 31-33; particularly Chapter 33, titled Defining the Faith, which discusses the dialogue on the nature and persons of the Trinity between the Orthodox and heretical groups, i.e., Marcionism, the Monarchian schools, Docetism, Sabellianism, etc.).
Bruce’s subject matter is separated into three parts, which, I believe, in Bruce’s estimation could be called “The Good, The Bad, and The Slightly Better”: Part I covers the Good of the “The Dawn of Christianity” until the destruction of Jerusalem (AD 1-70); Part II covers the Bad of the “The Growing Day” that rose out of Jerusalem’s destruction at the advent and reign of Constantine (AD 70-313); and Part III covers the Slightly Better rising of the “Light in the West” with the English conversion (AD 313-800). In each of these three volumes, Bruce is at his strongest when giving simple descriptions that create a context for understanding the spreading flame of Church History.
In this historical retrospect, descriptions of Christian evangelism and Church growth were particularly compelling, i.e., without being sinfully detached or unemotional Bruce aptly avoids sensationalism in his retelling of Christianity’s growth and the positive, liberating, and meaningful change it brought to pagan cultures, e.g., Christian mercy-ministries (pp. 189-190) and Christianization that was cataclysmic for the revision of existent law-code (p. 401). While reading this book I was reminded of David Bentley Hart’s thesis in Atheist Delusions, a book “chiefly about the early church” and the revolutionary reality of the “triumph of Christianity.” Similarly, Bruce’s historical rendering of Church History as the metaphorical “Spreading Flame” plots out in an episodic fashion that same Christian triumph, albeit without the more provocative stylism of contemporary scholars, e.g., Hart, Peter Leithart’s Deep Comedy, and Robert Louis Wilken’s The Spirit of Early Christian Thought. Compared to said contemporary authors Bruce feels dry and dusty.
As an aside: I would never go to Bruce to resolve a theology question, however, if I am simply trying to understand what the Biblical text says or what actually did occur historically, then he is on the top of my list. Bruce is great for explanation, but Bruce is lousy for implication/application. Also, I know folks have actively debated whether it is best and/or accurate to consider Bruce a “liberal conservative” or a “conservative liberal”, but I have to admit that I think that entire debate is tragically flawed. Unfortunately, when the debate is framed like that, it turns the debate into an argument between “kinds” rather than “types”. To me that is criminal; Bruce is (in my humble opinion) intrinsically conservative when it comes to the discipline of Biblical Criticism. Why do I say that? Because Bruce first and foremost considered the New Testament documents to be historical, and the historicity of the New Testament and its message is exactly the rub between Biblical conservatives and liberals. The “Postscript” to this book is rather self-revealing of Bruce: he states, “For Part I the main source-book is the New Testament. An evaluation of the historical quality of its contents may be found in my inquiry Are the New Testament Documents Reliable? (first published in 1943).” Bruce continues with the expected scholarly posturing, briefly mentioning the value of Josephus’ writings and Roman historian Tacitus, but I would love to read contemporary scholars who could echo Bruce on that first point.
Moving on, a repeated theme in the book is Bruce’s contention that “Christianity was organized for catastrophe” (p. 288). Bruce notes:
The story of the Christian Church of the first three centuries is largely a commentary on this [Christ’s promise of triumph to those who persevere]. In the fiercest of tribulations Christianity proved its capacity for survival, and not for mere survival but for actual victory. And the victory was won by spiritual weapons alone. . . . We review the history of Christianity up to the year 313 with no sense of shame, but with a sense that here is something to evoke gratitude and inspire courage. The qualities that triumphed then are the qualities which still transmute disaster into victory (p. 289).
By this bold and epigrammatic statement Bruce points to the fact that Christianity in its beginnings is characterized by the fact that Jesus himself did not mince words regarding the looming opposition the disciples would be faced with. The disciples, however, had been given the promise of triumph, thus, after the complete reversal-and-inversion of the thought-to-be-disaster that was the Cross, all subsequent disasters and even death itself had been debilitated and turned upside down and inside out.
This is a helpful hermeneutic for any Christian Historian who is faced with trying to trace the Spiritual growth of the Invisible Church while at the same time giving proper merit to the growth of the Visible Church. Bruce quotes Dean Inge favorable: “The real history of Christianity is the history of a great spiritual tradition. The only true apostolical succession is the lives of the saints” (161). Thus, during his presentation of Church History post- AD 313, Bruce laments much of history of the Visible Church, nearly chalking some episodes up as none other than secular history. Interestingly, I think Bruce’s personality comes through the clearest at these subtle points where his opinion pokes through his straightforward style, e.g., “Where church leaders were able to exercise political as well as spiritual authority, they did not enjoy any marked immunity from the universally corrupting tendency of power—a tendency which presents an even more displeasing spectacle in Christians than it does in other people, because it clashes so with the first principles of Christianity” (293).
Yet, Bruce is no simpleton. He properly understood that it was impossible (and just plain wrong) to attempt to talk about the Invisible Church without referent to the Visible Church. He says, “But the difficulty of the would-be historian is this: it is relatively easy to trace the fortunes of a visible institution, whereas the course of a great spiritual tradition is much more elusive. And yet, the two are so closely interwoven that it is impossible to treat of the one without constant reference to the other” (p. 161). This made me thing of how there are always two types of network topologies: there are physical topologies (physical/literal telecommunication cable runs, connecting circuits from Point A to Point B) and there are virtual topologies (diagrams the logical/virtual flow of data across/through the interconnections of a physical topology).
After gritting his teeth in Part II, while reflecting on the post-Constantine imperial decline and its co-occurrence with barbarian invasions, Bruce highlights how a Church “organized for catastrophe” once again thrived. The Church took the “handicaps of that kind . . . in its stride, showing once again that it was organized for catastrophe and never revealed its true qualities better than in times of general disaster” (p. 417).
I find Bruce to be helpful. Church History is a messy affair, but this book was a good reminder that Christians should be cautious not to collapse the token of the Visible Church into the Invisible Church or vice-versa, e.g., Bruce says, “but the genuine spirit of Christ is sometimes to be found in unlikely quarters. That, after all, is what we might expect when we consider that Christ Himself was regarded as scarcely orthodox either in belief or in practice by the leaders of His own religious community” (p. 417). A good reminder, indeed.
LOL: Restraint
“Once you have a cache of consumables, you’ll have to show some restraint to avoid increasing your rate of consumption. My first adventure into stockpiling came when I bought what I thought would be a two- to three-year supply of wine. The convenience of having it on hand each time we had a nice meal turned it into a one-year supply. It’s easy to use something that is handy, especially when you have a great quantity of it. Like the child who eats the whole shopping bag full of Halloween candy, you may get sick when you realize your cost of living has risen due to the convenience of your stockpile” (John A. Pugsley, The Alpha Strategy, 62).
Behooved by David Bentley Hart with Qualifiers to Protect My Unborn Child
You really must go read this article by David Bentley Hart. If Colbert in the earlier post didn’t make you laugh, then this will.
On the one hand, DBH interacts with a critique of his recent book, in which he exposes the “depressingly vapid” cognition of the “indolent secularism of late modern society,” while on the other hand, DBH, to put it lightly, will make you laugh. In fact, I told my wife, who is currently pregnant, to read the article, forewarning her that she would fall on the ground with laughter. To which I quickly added, “Just don’t hurt the baby!”
Stephen Colbert on Common Core
Laugh your heart out, America!
History of Liturgy
Helpful essay on historiography/liturgical history. From the essay’s conclusion:
The point of this tour through liturgical historiography is to demonstrate that what many people typically mean when they speak of the liturgy of “the early church” is actually a historically-contingent sample from a span of about four or five hundred years, beginning with, rather than climaxing in, the fourth century. This sort of observation does not tell us whether a certain liturgical form is good or bad, nor even better or worse, but what it does do is place the entire discussion firmly in the realm of human law, tentative investigation, and, thus eventually, prudential application.
As the saying goes: In Essentials Unity – In Non-Essentials Liberty – In All Things Charity.
The Caboose of Modernity
Next, we should reject postmodernism because it isn’t really postmodern. Before awarding the grand prefix post to anything, we should ascertain that it actually is describing something in the rear view mirror. If we look at the foundation stones of modernism, we should quickly identify one of them as being the thought of Darwin — evolution. But why is it that none of these johnnies are saying that they are post-Darwinian? Evolution is a metanarrative, but the only incredulity I can find anywhere is in the discussions of tourists in the parking lot of the Creation Museum. The postmodernists pretend that they are blowing up the foundations when they are actually just painting the eaves a different color.
Excerpt above from recent musing on Postmodernism by Douglas Wilson. Three cheers for that first sentence: “Next, we should reject postmodernism because it isn’t really postmodern.” I took a degree in Philosophy at university and I remember when I reached the same conclusion during my studies and thought, “Wait, hold the phone. This Postmodern-thing is only the Caboose of a train called Modernity.” Not really post-modern, indeed. All things Pomo collapse under the weight of their own critiques. Postmodernism thinks it is Revolutionary, but all it is doing is “painting the eaves a different color,” i.e., Pomo is the child begat by Modernity and now it spends its time, as all little children do, dressing up and playing make-believe. Postmodernism is like the Lutheran who ran away from Rome’s idols but in the final analysis only exchanged ready-made idols for the organic idols of bad sacramental theology.
Reading Notes: The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God by John Frame
Frame, John M. The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God. Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 1987.
This book is great. It was highly enjoyable reading it again front-to-back. On the surface, it is about Christian epistemology—the theology of knowledge, but on another level JMF is clearly trying to stir up our Christian imaginations (I will elaborate later).
In his Preface, JMF says that this book was written as a text for his seminarian course called The Christian Mind, and that his pedagogical approach to the subject “begins with a brief introduction to the Reformed faith, which is followed by a unit on the Word of God, and ends with discussions of apologetics . . . In between those two units—Word of God and problems of apologetics—comes a section on the theology of knowledge . . . which is the subject of this volume” (xv).
Once you strip away all the appendixes, the book’s presentation is threefold and straightforward: Part One discusses the objects of knowledge (What do we know?); Part Two discusses the justification of knowledge (What right do we have to believe what we do?); and Part Three discusses the methods of knowledge (How do we obtain knowledge?).
I found this early quote helpful for a high-level understanding of JMF’s book: “The knowledge of God [What do we know?] is a human response to God’s Word and is justified [What right do we have to believe what we do?] by its conformity thereunto” (4).
Throughout the book the “biblical concept of divine lordship” is a sustained theme, which JMF summarizes with a triad: God’s control | authority | pe
This book is great. It was highly enjoyable reading it again front-to-back. On the surface, it is about Christian epistemology—the theology of knowledge, but on another level JMF is clearly trying to stir up our Christian imaginations (I will elaborate later).
In his Preface, JMF says that this book was written as a text for his seminarian course called The Christian Mind, and that his pedagogical approach to the subject “begins with a brief introduction to the Reformed faith, which is followed by a unit on the Word of God, and ends with discussions of apologetics . . . In between those two units—Word of God and problems of apologetics—comes a section on the theology of knowledge . . . which is the subject of this volume” (xv).
Once you strip away all the appendixes, the book’s presentation is threefold and straightforward: Part One discusses the objects of knowledge (What do we know?); Part Two discusses the justification of knowledge (What right do we have to believe what we do?); and Part Three discusses the methods of knowledge (How do we obtain knowledge?).
I found this early quote helpful for a high-level understanding of JMF’s book: “The knowledge of God [What do we know?] is a human response to God’s Word and is justified [What right do we have to believe what we do?] by its conformity thereunto” (4).
Throughout the book the “biblical concept of divine lordship” is a sustained theme, which JMF summarizes with a triad: God’s control | authority | pe
Knowledge is under God’s control. First, our knowledge of God is always based on revelation. In our coming to know God, it is He who takes the initiative. . . . Furthermore—at least in the postfall context—this revelation is gracious; we do not deserve it, but God gives it as a ‘favor’ to us as part of His redemptive mercy . . . Thus, the origin of knowledge is trinitarian: The Father knows all and reveals truth to us by the grace of His Son through the work of the Spirit in our hearts. Note how each person of the Trinity is involved in the knowing process . . . Thus it is all of God, all of Grace. We know God because He has first known us as His children” (42).
This knowledge (given to us as a favor of God’s redemptive mercy) is subject to God’s authority, therefore, it “is inevitably an obedient knowledge,” e.g., “there is a ‘circular’ relation between knowledge and obedience in Scripture. . . . It is certainly true that if you want to obey God more completely, you must get to know Him; but it is also true that if you want to know God better, you must seek to obey Him more perfectly” (43).
So . . .
In summary, ‘knowledge of God’ essentially refers to a person’s friendship (or enmity) with God. That friendship presupposes knowledge in other senses—knowledge of facts about God, knowledge of skills in righteous living, and so forth. It therefore involves a covenantal response of the whole person to God in all areas of life, either in obedience or in disobedience. It involves, most focally, a knowledge of God’s lordship—of His control, His authority, and His present reality (48).
JMF throughout the book is obviously talking about The Christian Mind, however, he is advocating that theologians must learn to analyze before reacting (30), and that an important element of that process, in light of the biblical concept of divine lordship, is that our our beliefs must cohere with Scripture . . . and if they don’t, then Scripture has a “veto-power over beliefs that are inconsistent with its teachings” (128). Regarding the question How do we obtain knowledge?, JMF’s conclusion is that Scripture is the ultimate justification of all human knowledge (129).
On the one hand, we need to remember what I quoted earlier, that human knowledge subject to God’s authority is inevitably an obedient knowledge, while on the other hand, we must remember JMF’s conclusion above, that Scripture is the ultimate justification of human knowledge. If we balance those two thoughts it is obvious that the biblical concept of knowledge is never merely propositional ascent. Therefore, Christian epistemology (the theology of knowledge) is a theology that is defined as “the application of the Word by persons to all areas of life” (81) JMF says this means “A person does not understand Scripture, Scripture tells us, unless he can apply it to new situations, to situations not even envisaged in the original text” (84).
So, according to JMF, if one warrants that theology = application, then there is no dichotomy between meaning and applicatio
This imaginative way of doing theology made me think of some contemporary authors: Peter J. Leithart (Deep Exegesis), James K. A Smith (Desiring the Kingdom and Imagining the Kingdom), and David Bentley Hart (The Devil and Pierre Gernet: Stories). I especially thought of Hart’s work, since in the Author’s Apologia he says, “I have written stories and poems all of my life, or at least since fairly early childhood, whereas I conceived an interest in philosophical theology only when, as a young man, I went searching for God; and then, as things turned out, I came to conclude that God is no more likely (and probably a great deal less likely) to be found in theology than in poetry or fiction” (ix).
JMF is a top-shelf theologian. So, obviously I was challenged (even convicted) by a great deal of what he had to say, e.g., his consistent call “to do theology” with an irenic posture. However, I was most edified when he would mention the hindmost perspective of his triadic summary of divine lordship—the presence of God, e.g., “Thus God’s lordship is a deeply personal and practical concern. God is not a vague abstract principle or force but a living person who fellowships with His people” (17).
First Trout of the Year – April 4th, 2014
Fishing with the kids. First trout of the year!
CCRC: Psalm/Song of the Month for April, 2014
At CCRC we are endeavoring to learn/focus on a Psalm or song each month. Psalm 22:11-20 – “Be Not Far Off, for Grief is Near” from the Cantus Christi hymnal is April’s song of the month. Below is a meditation for this month’s Psalm.
Psalm/Song of the Month for April, 2014
“Be Not Far Off, for Grief Is Near”
Cantus Christi – 31
Psalm 22:11 – 20
Psalm 22 has become a standard (classic) passage for Christian liturgical use during the Lenten Season; Jesus on the cross, identifying with the Psalmist, recited its opening line (v. 1), “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”(Matthew 27:46; Mark 15:34)
This psalm begins with the honest question, “Why, God, have you abandoned me?” It ends, however, with the triumphant conclusion (vv. 30-31), “A seed shall serve him; it shall be accounted to the Lord for a generation. They shall come, and shall declare his righteousness unto a people that shall be born, that he hath done this.” Considering the arc of this psalm, one commentator has said, “From the initial cry of cosmic isolation, the poet now engages himself to live ‘for’ or ‘in’ the Lord. The generation to be born shall then proclaim the fidelity of Yahweh to his beloved servant” (Samuel Terrien, The Psalms, 234-235). In this psalm, the poet has aptly described both the emotional and temporal transformation from sorrow/defeat to joy/victory.
Christians see this transformation, firstly, in the Father’s resurrection of Jesus, and, secondly, in the growth of the Church—it is the total Christ, both Jesus Christ and his Body (the Church), who proclaims the fidelity of God the Father to his only begotten Son, the beloved and suffering servant who went to the cross to save the lost.
There are three structurally identifiable divisions in this psalm which build to the concluding remarks in vv. 30-31:
- vv. 1-11. With intimacy, cf. vv. 1-2, poet introduces theme of lament, however, v. 11 concludes with a cry of hope.
- vv. 12-23. He describes the “animality” of tormentors, yet, in v. 16, he acknowledges that God is sovereign/cause of his torment. Finally, he instructs those who fear the Lord, i.e., the seed of Jacob, the seed of Israel, to praise the Lord.
- vv. 24-29. Without an elaborate transition, the psalmist introduces a hymn of praise/thankfulness—the psalmist is “certain of his deliverance or his healing to come” (Terrien, 233).
- vv. 30-31. Intimacy of vv. 1-2 “transmutes into a future of glory” (Terrien, 230); the future generation will “proclaim the fidelity of Yahweh to his beloved servant.”
The majority of the verses rendered/paraphrased for singing in Be Not Far Off, for Grief is Near are from the second division—the verses move from the (1) cry of hope, (2) to the description of tormentors, and (3) concludes with petition for deliverance.
Meditating on the 22nd Psalm reminds us that in Redemptive History there is no triumph without sorrow, there is no resurrection without crucifixion, and there is no Easter without Good Friday. “The ultimate lament begins with the terror of the void, but it ends with the fervor of the saved” (Terrien, 236). As Habakkuk said, “O LORD, I have heard thy speech, and was afraid: . . . in wrath remember mercy.”
Aids for teaching and meditation:
- Because we have been adopted by God (cf. Romans 8:15), we have an intimate relationship with the Father. Not in spite of but because Jesus is our mediator, we are able to call out to God with honest intimacy, e.g., “My God, my God . . .”
- God is Holy (v. 3). God is sovereign over our affliction (v. 15). In our affliction, we appeal to God, but we do so with trust, godly fear, and praise (vv. 20-23).
Below is an interlinear presentation of Psalm 22:11-20 – bold is KJV/English translation and italic is Cantus Christi’s verse rendering/paraphrasing for singing (taken from The Book of Psalms for Singing, 1973).
v. 11 Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help.
v. 11 Be not far off, for grief is near, And none to help is found;
v. 12 Many bulls have compassed me: strong bulls of Bashan have beset me round.
v. 12 For bulls of Bashan in their strength Now circle me around.
v. 13 They gaped upon me with their mouths, as a ravening and a roaring lion.
v. 13 Their lion jaws they open wide, And roar to tear their prey.
v. 14 I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels.
v. 14 My heart is wax, my bones unknit, My life is poured away.
v. 15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
v. 15 My strength is only broken clay; My mouth and tongue are dry, / For in the very dust of death You there make me to lie.
v. 16 For dogs have compassed me: the assembly of the wicked have inclosed me: they pierced my hands and my feet.
v. 16 For see how dogs encircle me! On every side there stands / A brotherhood of cruelty; They pierce my feet and hands.
v. 17 I may tell all my bones: they look and stare upon me.
v. 17 My bones are plain for me to count; men see me and they stare.
v. 18 They part my garments among them, and cast lots upon my vesture.
v. 18 My clothes among them they divide, And gamble for their share.
v. 19 But be not thou far from me, O LORD: O my strength, haste thee to help me.
v. 19 Now hurry, O my Strength to help! Do not be far, O LORD!
v. 20 Deliver my soul from the sword; my darling from the power of the dog.
v. 20 But snatch my soul from raging dogs, And spare me from the sword.