Powlison, David. Good and Angry : Redeeming Anger, Irritation, Complaining, and Bitterness. Greensboro, NC: New Growth Press, 2016.

I use to think I was a patient person… and then I had kids. They are able to find buttons I didn’t know I had and press them over, and over, and over again! As a result, there are days when I am little better than a bear with a sore head in my relationship with them. Why is that? How could it be that I could get so cranky with these little people I love so much?

In his book, Good and Angry: Redeeming Anger, Irritation, Complaining and Bitterness, David Powlison takes us on a guided tour of anger and its cousins. Drawing on his experience as a counsellor, together with biblical insights, Powlison presents anger as being capable of both good and bad expression. Insofar as it emanates from a worldview that is God-centered, as exemplified by Jesus Christ, it is constructive and good; but where it issues from selfishness and idolatry it causes great harm.

The strengths of Powlison’s book include his careful differentiation between righteous and unrighteous anger; the way he identified unrighteous anger as a sin problem; and his clear presentation of how the sin problem can only be overcome by means of the gospel and not some twelve-step program. On the other hand, I felt that he could have spent more time rooting what he was saying in Scripture so that people could feel the force of this biblical worldview.

As for me and my kids, Powlison’s analysis is spot on: “Your buttons say something very significant about what rules you.” May God grant me the grace to be gracious!

Few authors are as consistent in their message over a long period of time as John Piper. For nearly 4 decades, Piper has been working out a theology that emphasises the glory of God with laser focus and crystal clarity. His latest offering, Walking in the Light, is no exception.

In this work, Piper identifies three areas of human existence – money, sex, and power – that can be used to either uphold or detract from God’s glory. He works this out in the terms of Romans 1:23, with each holding potential for an exchange of the glory of God for a lie. Where God is most valued, he will never be exchanged for things of lesser value such as influence, a salary, a spouse etc. Thus, they can be used in service of God. However, where they are valued more highly than God, an exchange is made, with something perceived to be lesser value (God) exchanged for something perceived to be of greater value (sex, money, power).

The key, then, to appropriate appreciation of power, sex, and money lies in properly appreciating the glory and worth of God, particularly as appreciated in the person and work of Christ. Piper uses the analogy of a solar system set up to orbit around the moon rather than around the sun; the solution is to restore the sun (the Son!) to the centre, live in ‘the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ’ (2 Cor. 4:6).

Piper’s analysis seems sound, and it is refreshing to have an approach that does not flee too quickly to labelling everything ‘idolatry’ (even though that is what it is), but dwells on the implications of that (God is neither valued nor glorified). I highly recommend this short book to Christians at all stages of their journey.

In the not too distant past I worked in a team responsible for dealing with software defects (also known as ‘bugs’ or ‘unintended features’). As this was all we did, day in and day out (other teams developed the new features), it was very easy to fall into bad pattern of thinking about our product and those who produced it: ‘How did this ever work?'; ‘What were they thinking??’ etc. When you only ever see something in a broken state, it is easy to assume that it is always, and has always been, broken.

Why do I tell you this? I fear the same thing has happened to Christopher Bogosh in writing Compassionate Jesus: Rethinking the Christian’s Approach to Modern Medicine. Bogosh works as a nurse in an American hospice organisation, which means that he spends a lot of time with those who are terminally ill. As a result, though his book purports to ‘rethink modern medicine’ at large, his focus seems much more directed toward this specific aspect of the medical system and, unsurprisingly, he finds much to critique.

Bogosh’s main thesis is that modern medicine as a philosophy (distinct from medical science, a methodology) represents a form of idolatry that places hope in man’s accomplishments rather than in God. In particular, he takes issue with the belief that people should seek to live as long as possible. To hold this belief is to place one’s mortality in the position supreme good. ‘In the twenty-first century, hospitals, not churches, have become the places most people in the United States look to for healing and hope. This is tragic, because the church provides the only answer for everlasting healing and hope’ (10). This, if true, is a telling indictment. In support of this, he offers many examples of people who have exhausted all possible medical alternatives, incurring great physical, relational and financial stress for the sake of a few months more.

As an alternative, Bogosh proposes what he calls ‘compassionate care’. Medical science may be used, but only in a way that expresses one’s faith in God and brings glory to him. ‘Life at all costs’ has no part in a Christian worldview; indeed Jesus himself neither healed everyone he met (though still obeyed the Sixth Commandment perfectly), nor did he seek to avoid an early death at the age of 33. He also develops a similar argument from Job, noting that Job desired death in order to avoid the unfaithfulness that prolonged suffering might bring (Job 6:8-10). Bogosh goes on to apply these principles to various end-of-life care situations: terminal cancer, persistent vegetative states, euthanasia and so on. He summarises: ‘Compassionate health care seeks to promote the restoration of human wholeness that is spiritual in nature at present and physical in the future, and it recognizes the limits of trying to eradicate illness and disease through human intervention here and now. The timeless teaching of Scripture has always been that there is hope and healing in Jesus Christ, not in Asclepius, medical science, and certainly not modern medicine’ (38).

Insofar as he has challenged a prevailing worldview that life should be pursued ‘at all costs’, Bogosh has done a great service. But, as noted above, his focus on medicine’s role at the end of life leads to an unbalanced assessment of medical science. Whilst he draws a distinction between the worldview (‘modern medicine’) and the mechanism (‘medical science’), Bogosh does little to develop how Christians may validly use the latter within the will of God to prolong life. One wonders, for example, whether the Apostle Paul might have utilised today’s medical science as part of his resolve to live for the sake of his converts (Phil 1:21-24)? What of those Christians who have fought for life and gone on to live productive lives for Christ, or non-Christians who have come to faith as a result of their reprieve.

In summary: Christopher Bogosh has offered a thoughtful reflection on modern medicine as it applies to those at the end of their life, and gives pause for thought on one’s motives in seeking medical intervention. Yet those looking for a ‘Christian Approach to Modern Medicine’ in general will be left wanting more.

Burroughs, Jeremiah. Contentment, Prosperity, and God’s Glory. Edited by Phillip L. Simpson. Kindle ed, Puritan Treasures for Today: Reformation Heritage Books, 2013.

Jeremiah Burroughs (c. 1600 – 1646) was an English non-conformist writing in the 17th century; that his words retain their relevance in 21st century Australia speaks to his pastoral insight and wisdom.

The book being reviewed, Contentment, Prosperity, and God’s Glory, is an amalgamation of the original appendix to The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment (1651) and a sermon preached to British Parliament in November 1645. Whilst I have not read Rare Jewel, Burroughs explains in his introduction that the starting point for both works is Philippians 4:12:

I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound: every where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need.

In Rare Jewel, Burroughs addressed the concept of being abased and suffering need; here he takes up the subject of ‘abounding’ – of knowing how a Christian should live in the midst of prosperity.

Whilst the language has been thoroughly and carefully updated by editor Phillip L. Simpson, there is no disguising the fundamentally Puritan methodology that underpins the study: identify the major areas of the topic, then enumerate each subtopic, leaving no stone unturned. Thus, there are 10 evidences that a man has learned to be full, 5 difficulties of learning this lesson, 4 evidences that demonstrate the difficulty of learning etc. Lists, lists and more lists! Having said that, the argumentation is much less dense than, say, John Owen or Richard Baxter.

Overall, Burroughs issues a challenge to those of us living in relatively prosperous circumstances to avoid taking our prosperity for granted. Rather, we must be careful to ensure that we are not ensnared by our wealth and contentment and start following idols (as did both the Israelites and Solomon). As he writes, ‘The devil can prevail more in his temptations with fullness than with want and emptiness. Why? Because although there are temptations in a poor condition, they are not so pleasing to a man’s own nature as the temptations of a full condition’ (40). This is a message that ought to be heard today.

N.B. a copy of this ebook was supplied for me to review, but the opinions expressed above are my own.

Volume being reviewed: Bock, Darrell L. A Theology of Luke and Acts. Edited by Andreas J. Köstenberger, Biblical Theology of the New Testament. Grand Rapids, Michgian: Zondervan, 2012.¹

Readers of Darrell Bock’s A Theology of Luke and Acts who are not familiar with the tenets of Biblical theology (as distinct from, say, commentaries or systematic theology) are fortunate indeed, for they have stumbled upon an examplary instance of the breed.² After discussing a number of preliminary matters such as the case for the unity of Luke-Acts and a ‘narrative survey’ of the two volumes, Bock surveys a number of the major theological themes that span Luke’s two volumes. His general method is to present a pair of chapters on each theme: the first chapter in each pair surveys the evidence relating to the theme in the narrative order in which it is presented; the second chapter then synthesises this evidence into a more systematic form. Whilst this inevitably leads to some overlap in material, Bock’s precise, cogent prose is always engaging.

For example, chapter 7 explores Luke’s Christology, and the various roles and titles that Luke ascribes to Jesus. Bock arranges his material under three categories: the infancy narratives; the body of Luke’s Gospel; and Acts. The division between infancy material and the remainder of the Gospel seems more or less arbitrarily chosen, but is common across all of the survey chapters. By proceeding in narrative order, Bock allows some insight into the narratological development intended by Luke; it also ensures that all the evidence is tabled before categories are applied, so avoiding pre-judging material.

In chapter 8 Bock draws together and rearranges the material adduced in chapter 7. He re-presents the data under headings familiar to readers of systematic theologies: the person of Christ; the titles of Christ; and the work of Christ. Here he compares, for example, the various titles ascribed to Jesus throughout Luke and Acts as Luke uses them in different contexts. He also draws comparisons with external sources (the Synoptics, rabbinic material etc.) to help underscore both the similarity and dissimilarity of Luke’s presentation.

Bock’s exegesis is obviously based on the Greek text, though all of the (frequent) Greek and (occasional) Hebrew / Aramaic snippets are transliterated for those unfamiliar with the original languages. On the other hand, the occasional grammatical arguments advanced may be somewhat difficult to follow. Similarly, readers unfamiliar with terminology such as ‘eschatology’, ‘christology’, ‘ontology’ etc. may wish to keep a theological dictionary handy. Bock engages regularly with secondary literature in the footnotes, though only rarely in the main text. Each chapter (or pair of chapters) includes a brief bibliography pointing to the most significant secondary literature for the topic, with a more comprehensive bibliography included at the end of the volume. As such, I judge that the target audience is probably beginning to intermediate theological students, though lay people with the appropriate aids will find it readable.

The volume as a whole is neatly presented, with a layout to warm the hearts of the most avid margin-scribblers. There are scripture, subject and author indices, though the subject index seems a little perfunctory. Overall, I found it eminently readable and am happy to recommend it as a worthwhile addition to any theological library. I will certainly be keeping my eyes open for future additions to the series.

Endnotes

1. With thanks to Zondervan for supplying a review copy as part of their blog tour.
2. Another master of this relatively new way of doing theology is David Peterson, as demonstrated in his Engaging with God.

Once again, I am pleased to have the opportunity to review a book from Zondervan as part of a blog tour, this time for Michael Williams, How to Read the Bible through the Jesus Lens. Sadly, my review copy arrived after the blog tour dates were already complete, so I am a little behind the times… ah well, never mind.

This is the third in a series of “How to Read the Bible” books, joining volumes jointly written by Gordon Fee and Douglas Stuart. Having benefitted greatly from the first two volumes in the series, and incorporated much of the material from the first volume into my own teaching, I was excited to read this newest addition.

In order to understand what How to Read the Bible through the Jesus Lens brings to the table above and beyond the earlier volumes, I decided to do a case study, and see what I learned about the book of Revelation from each of the three volumes. The first volume, How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth (hereafter For All Its Worth) offers an overview and introduction of the methodology of Bible reading. Fee and Stuart introduce the concept ‘exegesis’ (understanding a text in its context) and argue strongly for the necessity of exegesis before moving to interpretation and application. They emphasise understanding authorial intent as a means to finding the ‘primary meaning’ of a text. They then go through each of the major genres of biblical literature, offering guidelines for how to read and interpret each. So, for example, we are enjoined to read Revelation with a view to the author’s intent (to comfort those who were facing suffering and persecution under the Romans); to use the author’s interpretation of his own images serve as a starting point for understanding other (uninterpreted) images; to read for the whole rather than allegorically pressing details; and to keep our Old Testaments open to understand John’s OT references. These guidelines assist the layperson in finding manageable starting points for understanding what is often shunned as ‘too difficult to understand’. Each is illustrated with relevant examples from Revelation.

How to Read the Bible Book by Book (hereafter Book by Book) follows up on the work done in For All Its Worth by working through the Bible book by book and applying the principles taught in the earlier volume. This is helpful where multiple books fall under one genre (i.e. one chapter in For All Its Worth), but a little redundant in the case of Revelation, which has a one-to-one mapping with the genre of apocalypse. Nevertheless, a sequential presentation of the material at a high level (approximately one or two paragraphs per chapter of Revelation) is helpful. As Fee and Stuart write in their introduction, ‘The concern of this book is to help you read the Bible as a whole, and even when the “whole” is narrowed to “whole books,” it is important for you always to be aware of how each book fits into the larger story.’ (14) To this end, in the chapter on Revelation they offer, in summary (dot-point) form comments on provenance and theological themes and emphases, followed by an overview of the structure and message of the book. They then go through the book section by section, with brief comments on how the section contributes to the message of the book, and the book to the message of the Bible.

These volumes are, in my view, a tough act to follow. For All Its Worth is my immediate recommendation to anyone who is looking to make the first steps toward structured Bible reading and study. Williams has some big shoes to fill.

How to Read the Bible through the Jesus Lens (hereafter Jesus Lens) seeks to offer an explicitly Christological (i.e. Christ-focused) reading of every book of the Bible. In his Introduction, Williams writes,

Reading the Bible through the Jesus lens is reading it the way it was intended. It keeps our reading, understanding, teaching, and preaching properly focused on God’s grand redemptive program that centers on his own Son. Seeing how each biblical book makes its own unique contribution to that redemptive focus enables us to use these diverse materials with much more confidence and accuracy. The Jesus lens ensures that our exegetical bowling balls stay within the lane and don’t go crashing over into areas where they can cause a lot of damage to the faith of believers and to our ability to use the Bible fruitfully in our service to God. (9)

If ever there were a book of the Bible where bowling balls were prone to leave lanes it is surely Revelation! So what advice does Williams offer on reading the book of Revelation ‘through the Jesus lens’?

He starts by offering a brief overview of the situation which prompted the writing of the book of Revelation (though in less detail than Book by Book). He states the theme of the Book: ‘God enables his people to stand fast against Satan and his forces until God brings about the ultimate and sure victory’ (263). The section on ‘The Jesus Lens’, where you would expect Williams to focus (no pun) his attention, is a mere 3 brief paragraphs (approximately 2/3 of a page) that effectively points out that it is the Lamb who brings about salvation, and that though appearances suggested that Jesus was overpowered by evil, Revelation overturns this false impression by depicting a God who is in control and a Lamb who, though slain, is ultimately victorious. Williams closes the chapter by offering some contemporary implications (though sin is rampant, we live with hope) and ‘hook questions’ (discussion starters, suitable for a group Bible study).

Whilst I generally try to avoid criticising a book for what it is not, in this case I feel it is warranted: for a book entitled How To… it contains very little instruction. There is no discussion of how Williams arrived at the ‘Jesus lens’, nor of how to use it. True, Williams demonstrates his own usage, thus modelling a method, but we end up with his finished product without any real insight on how he arrived at it. As a result, if asked to look at portions of Scripture smaller (or larger!) than a canonical book, the student would need to start from scratch. In addition, whilst I appreciate Williams’ desire to write ‘a book that one doesn’t need a wheelbarrow to carry around’, I fear that his brevity necessitates gross generalisations. As a summary, his chapter on Revelation offers considerably less detail than Book by Book.

The strength of Williams’ book is the way it reminds us that all the Scriptures speak of Christ (John 5:39), a reminder sorely needed today as any day. But in its current form it is hard to see that it serves any particular audience – certainly it is too brief and lacking in methodological detail to be an instructional (How To!) manual. I will continue to recommend For All Its Worth.

Bibliography

• Fee, Gordon D., and Douglas K. Stuart. How to Read the Bible Book by Book : A Guided Tour. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2002.
• Fee, Gordon D., and Douglas K. Stuart. How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth. 3rd ed. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2003.
• Williams, Michael James. How to Read the Bible through the Jesus Lens : A Guide to Christ-Focused Reading of Scripture. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2011.

My friend Andrew Starkey and I have decided to read through Jonathan Edwards’ A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections. This post contains my reflections on Part I.

The questions that are being used as a framework for discussion (and are the headings in this post) are taken from Mortimer Jerome Adler and Charles Lincoln Van Doren, How to Read a Book, Rev. and updated ed. (New York,: Simon and Schuster, 1972), 46.

Numbers in parentheses are location numbers in the Kindle text referenced above.

Q: What is the section about?

The problem facing Edwards is clear, and he outlines it in his introduction: In the midst of the Great Awakening, he recognises that there is a great ‘mixture of counterfeit religion with true, not discerned and distinguished’ (48). In Part I, therefore, he argues that true religion is characterised by the presence of ‘holy affections’ (144). He mounts his argument from the imperatives of Scripture, the nature of the world, the history of the church and particularly the example of Christ. He then draws a number of inferences from this proposition, namely that (1) those without religious affections are spiritually dead; (2) we ought properly to desire those things that move the affections; and (3) we ought to be ashamed that ‘we are no more affected with the great things of religion’ (606).

Q: What is being said in detail, and how?

Edwards starts by considering 1 Pet 1:8: ‘Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.’ He argues that persecutions and trials (referred to in the previous verses) ‘above all other things, have a tendency to distinguish between true religion and false’.

True virtue never appears so lovely, as when it is most oppressed; and the divine excellency of real Christianity, is never exhibited with such advantage, as when under the greatest trials: then it is that true faith appears much more precious than gold! And upon this account is “found to praise, and honor, and glory.” (111)

In particular, true religion will result in love to Christ and joy in Christ. From this, Edwards states the main premise which he will spend the rest of the section (perhaps the rest of the book) developing and defending: ‘True religion, in great part, consists in holy affections.’

Strictly speaking, this does not seem to be a logical deduction from his evidence up to this point. It would, perhaps, be more accurate to say that ‘true religion responds to persecution with holy affections’. After all, maybe affections are not required when not under persecution, or perhaps affections are just one among many symptoms of ‘true religion’. But the rest of section goes on to develop this fuller premise.

Edwards’ working definition of ‘affections’ is as follows:

The affections are no other than the more vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul. (152)

He is careful to join affections to the will. This seems somewhat strange to the modern reader who would naturally associate ‘affections’ with ‘emotions’, which are considered beyond our (conscious) control. I believe this fact will be important to bear in mind as we continue through the book, and I am sure I will regularly need to remind myself of it.

Having defined ‘affections’, Edwards proceeds to draw the link between ‘affections’ and ‘true religion’. As the first step towards this goal, he marshals a number of Scriptures that command particular affections: fervour (Rom 12:11), love and fear (Deut 6:4, 6; 10:12) etc. His emphasis here is not so much on the affections themselves, but on their magnitude. His conclusion is that,

everyone that has the power of godliness in his heart, has his inclinations and heart exercised towards God and divine things, with such strength and vigor that these holy exercises do prevail in him above all carnal or natural affections, and are effectual to overcome them. (229)

Edwards also notes the central role that affections have in prompting actions; in other words, he argues that ‘the affections of men are the springs of… motion’ (241). The logic here is an enthymeme, with the unstated minor premise that true religion consists of actions, which may be readily granted. Thus the argument is that:

Affections are necessary for actions.
[Actions are necessary for true religion.]
Therefore affections are necessary for true religion.

The third argument Edwards offers in favour of linking affections and true religion is that ‘the things of religion take hold of men’s souls, no further than they affect them’ (250). This is an inductive argument, based on Edwards’ observations of human behaviour. As such, it is not as strong as some of the other arguments put forward, but in conjunction with the others it has a cumulative force.

Argument 4 is, in some ways, similar to the first argument but in greater depth. Edwards here traces such specific affections as hope, hatred for sin, holy desires and longings, joy, sorrow, mercy and zeal. He then builds on this argument by noting the central place given in the Scriptures to love as the ‘fountain of all other affections’ (335).

Having considered the indicatives of Scripture pertaining to affections, Edwards turns in argument 6 to the example of specific biblical characters: David, Paul and John. From there, it is only natural to consider the example of the Lord Jesus, who ‘was a person who was remarkably of a tender and affectionate heart; and [whose] virtue was expressed very much in the exercise of holy affections’ (422).

Argument 8 rests on Edwards’ interpretation of the ‘heavenly state’, and owing to its speculative nature this is the weakest of the arguments he advances. Certainly, the intent is admirable: ‘The way to learn the true nature of anything, is to go where that thing is to be found in its purity and perfection’ (471); it is just that the available evidence doesn’t allow confidence in the sweeping generalisations that Edwards makes.

Edwards then notes the affective nature of the ‘ordinances and duties, which God hath appointed, as means and expressions of true religion’ (477). In particular, he considers prayer, singing praises to God, the sacraments and preaching. Each of these, according to Edwards, is designed with a view to raising the affections.

Finally, Edwards points out the frequent correlation in Scripture of sin and ‘hardness of heart’. The reasoning is that if sin is to be equated with hardness of heart, then the negation of sin (true religion) is to be equated with the negation of hardness of heart (affections).

With these arguments expounded, Edwards concludes: ‘Upon the whole, I think it clearly and abundantly evident, that true religion lies very much in the affections’ (541).

From this conclusion, Edwards draws three specific inferences. Firstly, those who devalue religious affections as insubstantial are wrong; indeed, affections are (at least) as essential as doctrine. There is a balance to be maintained, and falling into either extreme is equivalent to death: ‘As there is no true religion where there is nothing else but affection, so there is no true religion where there is no religious affection’ (575). The second inference is that we should desire means of moving the affections. Such means might include ‘books… preaching the word… administration of ordinances… worshipping God in prayer, singing praises’ (595) etc. Edwards’ third and final inference from his conclusion that true religion and religious affections are essential to one another is that we ought to be ashamed for our general lack of affections.

Q: Is the section true, in whole or part?

Edwards offers a strong argument. Once we accept his definition of ‘affections’ (over against more modern interpretations) his examples from Scripture are compelling. As noted previously, some of his arguments from his speculative construction of the ‘heavenly state’ are misguided, but these form only a minor plank in an otherwise very sturdy bridge.

Q: What of it?

As mentioned earlier, the topic of this section seems of immediate importance to the author, placed as he was in the midst of the Great Awakening. It was very important to him to be able to distinguish between religious affection and psychological hype. No doubt he was forced to defend against the naysayers who declared the movement he was a part of to be the latter rather than the former.

For us, too, there is a tendency to reject the emotions in favour of the mind. I can trace this tendency in myself all the way back to my conversion. I became a Christian at a holiday camp run at Stanwell Tops. Picture, if you will, a 6 foot tall 10 year old at a camp called… ‘Mini Midgets’! This was my first real exposure to Christian camping, or ‘contemporary’ Christian music. I didn’t know you could have church music played on electric guitars and drums! One night during the week, we were singing a praising God, and I felt the immediate presence of God in a way I never had before. Yet I refused to say anything or do anything about it until I’d had a chance to think it over. Even at that age, I had a suspicion of anything that was driven in the first instance by emotion; I needed to make sure that it made sense. That’s the way I’m wired.

To this day, I am suspicious of a certain kind of music, a certain kind of prayer, a certain kind of preaching etc. But I am also learning, slowly, that it is OK – no, as Edwards points out, it is right! – to be affected by things. We had a men’s weekend away just recently, and a number of people shared from their life stories. In a couple of cases the stories were tragic indeed, and once I found tears pouring down my cheeks as a man described sitting on the floor after school explaining to his kids (aged 11 – 4) that their mum had passed away from cancer while they were at school. There was a time when I would have been ashamed of that response, but I am learning that it is both the privilege and the responsibility of Christians to ‘Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn’ (Rom 12:15).

What Edwards teaches me in this section is that this is to be more than just a passive response; the affections are to be active. They are ‘vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will of the soul’ (152). We are to incline ourselves towards being ‘affected’ by the things of God, and the things which ‘affect’ God (or, more precisely, which God allows to affect him). Paul offers an imperative – rejoice! mourn! – not just an invitation.

Further, I find that I am ashamed (as Edwards says I ought to be) that I am too little affected by the things I ought to be, and too much affected by other things. One is reminded of C. S. Lewis’ observation in Weight of Glory:

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.

Even today, I have worked extra hours to derive satisfaction from having done my job well… but at what expense? I got to see my kids for all of 10 mins at either end of the day. I admire my friends’ passion for social justice, but find it difficult to be similarly affected. I read my Bible and am often left unchanged because I do it as an exercise in discipline or academics instead of a meeting with the Creator and Saviour of the world.

I look forward to reading what solutions Edwards has to offer, but I know – I know! – that the starting place is prayer. Please God, give me first the desire coupled with the will to pray, so that as I peer into your heart mine will be drawn along to the same place!

The observation of the Teacher, that ‘Of making many books there is no end’ (Eccl 12:12), is undoubtedly true. Yet when it comes to thoughtful expositions of the gospel, this is to be considered a blessing rather than a curse. Such an exposition is Scot McKnight’s The King Jesus Gospel.¹ Thus, I am glad of the opportunity afforded me by Zondervan to review this book.

Summary

McKnight opens his book by relating his initial experiences in evangelism, noting that many churches and programs focus on decisions rather than discipleship. But decisions don’t necessarily lead to discipleship! In fact, the ‘conversion rate’ (no pun) is < 50%. So... what makes faith stick?

In chapter 1, McKnight contends that the gospel has been incorrectly equated with personal salvation. He offers three symptoms of this: (1) a Christian who cannot comprehend how the Messiahship of Jesus is ‘good news'; (2) that John Piper feels the need to defend the notion that Jesus taught justification, even though there are only a few references to justification in the Gospels; (3) one pastor believes that Jesus could not have taught the ‘gospel’, as it can only be understood this side of the Cross, Resurrection and Pentecost.

McKnight develops this in chapter 2, drawing a distinction between a salvation (or ‘soterian’) culture and a gospel culture. The salvation culture is framed around questions of “in or out?” Such a culture is an advance on nominalism, requiring personal profession of faith; yet it does not intrinsically lead to discipleship. McKnight equates much of modern evangelicalism with this kind of salvation culture.

Chapter 3 distinguishes four different things commonly associated with ‘gospel': (1) the story of Israel; (2) the story of Jesus; (3) the plan of salvation; and (4) the method of persuasion. He suggests that these items should build on each other in this order; but that we typically reverse the order. Finally, he signals his intention to argue that only sense (2) should be equated with ‘gospel’.

McKnight moves to considering the ‘apostolic gospel’ in chapter 4. The starting point for understanding the gospel, he argues, is 1 Cor. 15. When we do so we find that the apostolic gospel centers on the story of Jesus. He then interacts with N. T. Wright’s What Saint Paul Really Said and Greg Gilbert’s What Is The Gospel?, before issuing a final warning that a plan of salvation divorced from the story becomes ‘abstract, propositional, logical, rational, and philosophical and, most importantly, de-storified and unbiblical’ (62).

In chapter 5, McKnight argues that the Reformation doctrine of justification by faith alone – though right and good in and of itself – has had the effect of transforming a gospel culture into a salvation culture. In support of this, he traces several of the early church creeds, then compares them with the Reformation Creeds, finding that the emphasis has shifted from the story of Christ to the story of an individual’s salvation. He then borrows from Dallas Willard to characterise this kind of focus on personal salvation as a “gospel of sin management”.

McKnight makes the (somewhat obvious) point in chapter 6 that the Gospels declared ‘the Story of Israel as resolved in the story of Jesus’ (79). Thus, they fit McKnight’s definition of ‘gospel’ without having to proclaim personal salvation or justification by faith.

In the next chapter, McKnight traces a number of passages in the Gospels where Jesus preaches the kingdom of God, and himself the king of it. Jesus, says McKnight, makes a number of points about the Kingdom: (1) that it was breaking into history; (2) that it brought a new society in the land; (3) a new citizenship; (4) that it is the kingdom of God; and (5) that Jesus himself is at the centre of this kingdom. McKnight follows this up by considering the interplay between Jesus and his cousin John, and how they each viewed their own and the other’s roles in scriptural terms. Finally, he canvasses several ‘look at me’ passages, where Jesus calls attention to his own role in the Kingdom.

Surveying the apostolic preaching in the book of Acts (chapter 8), McKnight finds that the gospel is repeatedly framed in terms of the story of Israel, rather than the story of salvation.

McKnight then draws six points of comparison between apostolic and contemporary ‘gospeling’. Apostolic gospeling thus: (1) summons people to submit to the lordship of Christ, rather than to a personal salvation; (2) is framed by the Story of Israel, rather than the salvation/atonement story; (3) contains a message of wrath and judgment, even though this is not the focus; (4) addresses the problem of lordship, rather than that of justification; (5) was not intentionally or consciously subversive of the Roman Empire; (6) talked first and always about Jesus.

In the final chapter, McKnight concludes his book by presenting his summary of the content of the gospel. He then argues that a gospel culture will flow out of this gospel only if we immerse ourselves in the biblical story and, more specifically, the story of Jesus and the story of the church. In addition, we need to develop counter stories that will oppose the stories of our culture – the many ‘-isms’ of contemporary society – for which McKnight offers Eucharist and Baptism as examples. Finally we must embrace the story, making it our own and being thoroughly transformed and converted by it. If we do these things we will promote a gospel culture.

Analysis

McKnight has in this work made a number of insightful observations concerning the state of the evangelical church and its presentation of the gospel. In particular his fourfold distinction of different senses in which the word ‘gospel’ is used – the story of Israel, the story of Jesus, the plan of salvation and the method of persuasion – is a very useful framework for discussing the nature and content of the gospel. Using this framework, McKnight also brings a much-needed reminder that the gospel is not merely the culmination of the story of the individual (the plan of salvation) but is also the culmination of the story of Israel. Though few within evangelical circles would wish to deny this, McKnight’s work reminds us that this has (or should have) implications for the way we promote and proclaim the gospel.

Yet McKnight’s exposition of precisely what these implications are is not entirely convincing. He is at great pains to show that the gospel cannot, ultimately, be divided from the story of Israel, and this is true. But McKnight goes further, claiming that the ‘apostolic gospel’ is framed ‘not so much salvation as the Story of Israel coming to completion in the Story of Jesus’ (131), and that therefore our gospel presentations (in particular our ‘method of persuasion’) should not be separated from this story. So,

When the plan gets separated from the story, the plan almost always becomes abstract, propositional, logical, rational, and philosophical and, most importantly, de-storified and unbiblical. When we separate the Plan of Salvation from the story, we cut ourselves off the story that identifies us and tells our past and tells our future. We separate ourselves from Jesus and turn the Christian faith into a System of Salvation. (62)

It is here that McKnight’s analysis needs refinement; in particular, the content and method of the Apostle Paul’s teaching is under-represented.

McKnight takes 1 Corinthians 15 to be ‘the apostolic gospel tradition’ (46), that is, a summary of the earliest apostolic teaching about the gospel. His reasoning is that verses 3-8 of this passage have the appearance of being a pre-formed tradition that predates Paul himself (a theory to which a majority of NT scholars would likely subscribe), and that Paul declares this to be ‘the gospel I gospeled’ (1 Cor 15:1; τὸ εὐαγγέλιον ὃ εὐηγγελισάμην ὑμῖν). Further, the repeated phrase ‘according to the Scriptures’ (κατὰ τὰς γραφὰς) is taken to be a reference to the larger Story of Israel. Yet to define this passage as coterminous with Paul’s gospel is to neglect the possibility that Paul is speaking only of that strand of his teaching related to the resurrection, the subject of his larger discourse in this chapter. Further, one searches the rest of the chapter in vain for specific scriptural references, save those that speak of Adam (45ff.). Where, then, is the Story of Israel, of Abraham’s progeny, in this gospel?

Some other Pauline texts referenced by McKnight are found in Appendix 1, notably Romans 1:1-4; 3:21-26; Phil 2:5-11; Col 1:15-20; 1 Tim 3:16; 2 Tim 2:8. Of these, the first and last refer to the Jewish ancestry of Jesus (‘descendant of David’ / ‘descended from David’), whilst the others make general comments about the life of Jesus without attempting to root them in the overall Story of Israel. Is Paul, then, guilty of making the gospel, ‘abstract, propositional, logical, rational, and philosophical and, most importantly, de-storified and unbiblical’?

Perhaps most striking of all is Paul’s Areopagus address (Acts 17:16-34), which McKnight refers to in chapter 8. He claims: ‘From Peter’s world-transforming sermon in Acts 2 to Paul’s sermon on the Areopagus in Acts 17, it was the Story of Israel that shaped how they gospeled.’ Yet it is difficult to see how this address is ‘shaped’ by the Story of Israel. Yes, Paul refers to God’s creation of the earth, but there is little else that may be said to be specifically Jewish. Indeed, McKnight himself acknowledges this a little later on: ‘Paul’s audience surely didn’t know enough of Israel’s Story to know what to make of this Jewish Jesus. So Paul starts where they are.’ (126) Paul, then, feels free to present the gospel without framing it in terms of the Story of Israel. In fact, where Paul does refer to the specifics of the Israelite narrative (e.g. Gal 3-4) it often seems to be in response to some initiative on the part of his addressees (e.g. interaction with Judaisers in Galatia).

Thus, caution is required in considering McKnight’s conclusions as applied to gospeling. There is still a place for presenting the gospel in terms of the Plan of Salvation, much in the same way that physics teachers first teach Bohr’s model of the atom rather than starting with the complexities of quantum mechanics. The latter is a more complete picture, it is true, but it is too large a jump in knowledge to start there. So with the gospel: the Plan of Salvation is graspable with minimal background knowledge, where attaining knowledge of the Story of Israel takes longer to grasp. Yet we may be grateful to McKnight for the reminder that it is not the entire Story.

Endnotes

1. McKnight, Scot. The King Jesus Gospel: The Original Good News Revisited. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2011.

In March, Zondervan announced via their Koinonia blog that they would be hosting a blog tour for Jonathan Lunde’s book Following Jesus, the Servant King.¹ The premise was simply that readers were offered a review copy of the book and, in return, they would post a review on their personal blog and an online retailer of their choice. The reviews were to be posted during the first week of April.

I signed up to participate, but unfortunately my review copy didn’t arrive until after the completion of the blog tour. This, combined with the intervening birth of a baby girl into our family, means that I am only now able to complete my end of the deal. I hope it’s worth the wait!

Lunde’s book is organised around three questions that are (or should be) important to every Christian:

1. Why should Christians be concerned to obey Christ’s commands if they are saved by grace?
2. What does Jesus demand from his disciples?
3. How can disciples obey Jesus’ high demand, while experiencing his “yoke” as “light” and “easy”?

The bulk of the book is given over to answering these questions from Scripture, with the final chapter being a consideration of how the answers thus achieved might apply to the life of today’s Christian.

In response to the first (‘Why?’) question, Lunde notes the propensity of Christians to fall into a model of ‘best effort’, with grace to make up the difference. Alternately, many Christians redefine or water down Jesus’ demands in an effort to avoid ‘legalism’. Lunde rightly rejects both of these approaches. Instead, he offers the observation relationship with God is necessarily covenantal relationship, and that the New Covenant is no exception. All of the biblical covenants are a mixture of grace and righteous demand, with God graciously providing prior and sustaining grace, yet requiring certain things in response (chapters 2-4). He distinguishes two different types of covenant, ‘grant’ and ‘conditional’, arguing the the New Covenant which governs Christians is a ‘grant’ covenant. He then draws on this distinction to explore the relationship between faith and works of obedience (chapter 5), arguing:

Whereas the Mosaic Covenant was a conditional one that demanded faithful works of obedience for the ongoing reception of its blessings, the New Covenant in Jesus is a grant covenant, whose blessings are only dependent on God’s faithfulness to fulfill them. (103)

He concludes by saying:

Jesus’ disciples are those who have experienced the fulfillment of the prophetic expectations of the Spirit’s outpouring on God’s covenant people. As the [113] prophetic portrayals make clear, the effect of this divine endowment will be a deeper enablement for righteousness. Paul echoes this in his discussion of the Spirit’s effect on God’s people. Those who are led by the Spirit will inevitably produce the fruit of the Spirit and fulfill the law of Christ. As Spirit-enabled New Covenant partners, those who follow him ought to be continually concerned regarding obedience to all of Jesus’ covenantal demands. (112-3)

Thus Lunde’s answer to the ‘why’ question is that the New Covenant, like all of the other biblical covenants, contains ‘righteous demands’. These demands, though not conditions of receiving grace, are nevertheless an integral response to the covenant. Even here, however, God provides sustaining grace that empowers this response.

In the next section (chapters 6-10), Lunde attempts to answer the question of ‘What Jesus demands’, building on his analysis of the relationship between the New Covenant and the previous covenants (in particular the Mosaic). He begins by establishing Jesus’ role as both prophet and King in the context of the New Covenant (chapter 6).

Jesus authoritatively articulates the will of Yahweh as the Prophet who carries the authority to mediate the final expression of the law to his people. But he also summons people to follow him absolutely as the King, who faithfully represents Yahweh’s righteous reign. Jesus’ disciples follow him as their King, even as he articulates God’s demand as the great Prophet. (125)

This then sets the scene for a discussion of the varied ways in which Jesus mediates the law to us, developed using three analogies: some things get ‘filtered’ out through their fulfillment in Christ (chapter 7); others are brought into ‘focus’ through Jesus’ teaching and example (chapter 8); and still others are ‘elevated’ or ‘heightened’ in order to more fully display God’s glory (chapter 9). Chapter 10 traces Jesus’ summons to mission, and its grounding in covenantal expectation.

Thus, Lunde’s answer to the ‘what’ question appears to be that Christians are called to obey the law as mediated to us by Jesus.

The third section explores the ‘how’ of Christian discipleship: how can Christians simultaneously obey Jesus’ demands and at the same time experience his yoke as ‘easy’ and ‘light’ (Matt 11:30). Once again, Lunde turns to the pattern of covenantal relationship in the Old Testament for answers. He starts by noting the inaugurated nature of the New Covenant argued by analogy with the inaugurated Kingdom (chapter 11). Thus, the day spoken of in Jeremiah 31 has not yet arrived in its fullness, though we experience some of its benefits today.

Chapter 12 outlines the way in which life under the Mosaic covenant promoted a threefold relationship to God of ‘remembering’, ‘receiving’ and ‘responding’. He concludes:

Ideally, the covenant people in the Old Testament lived in the iterative pattern of remembrance, reception, and response. That is, the covenant provided regular occasions of remembering and receiving Yahweh’s grace toward them throughout their yearly, seasonal, and weekly lives. In response to the reception of those blessings, they were to devote themselves afresh to keeping the covenant demands of righteousness. In this way, obedience to the law was constantly grounded in and empowered by God’s prior and sustaining grace.

As New Covenant disciples, we too must learn to live covenant lives, returning repeatedly to the Servant for renewing and enabling grace so as to experience the sort of enablement that will enliven our obedience to the King. In and through all of this, the New Covenant gift of the Spirit will be actively making Jesus’ grace present to us. (208-9)

The next chapters constitute a sort of extended reflection on the image of the Servant in Isaiah 53. Jesus is the Servant who is our representative, who turned away sin on our behalf throughout his life (chapter 13). He is the Servant who is our Redeemer, enduring the suffering of the remnant on our behalf so that we need not (chapter 14). Jesus is also the Restorer, who brings eschatological redemption to his creation and judgment to his enemies (chapters 15-16). Lunde concludes:

Remembering and receiving these expressions of Jesus’ grace should move us to respond with covenantal faithfulness in the living out of lives of sight, hearing, and proclamation, unencumbered by the impairing power of Satan. In this way, we will be empowered to follow him in mediating those same dimensions of grace to those around us. (263)

Lunde then draws the strands of these chapters together in chapter 17, showing the relationship between Jesus’ roles as both Servant and King:

As the fulfillment of the Servant of the Lord, Jesus supplies the consummation of God’s grace in the establishment of the New Covenant and its blessings. As the fulfillment of the promises regarding the Messiah, Jesus is the King who mediates the fulfilled law to his New Covenant disciples and summons them to follow him. This distinction, though helpful, breaks down at several points, since Jesus also provides grace as the King. This is inevitable since he fulfills both roles. Nowhere is this overlap clearer than in his crucifixion. (264-5)

Thus, I would summarise Lunde’s answer to the ‘How’ question as follows: New Covenant obedience is facilitated by remembering, receiving and responding to Jesus’ roles as both Messianic King and Isaianic Servant. In Lunde’s own words ‘Grace foils legalism. But grace fuels righteousness’ (274).

The final chapter is given over to exploring the contemporary implications of the theology he has outlined. In particular, he applies his answer to the ‘why’ question to contemporary attitudes towards God (‘Moralistic Therapeutic Deism’), evangelism (easy-believism, ‘get-saved’ evangelism) and catechesis (developing disciples able to articulate covenantal relationship with God).

Overall, Lunde has offered an articulate and creative exposition of covenantal theology. In particular, his explanation of the relationship between various covenants and the New Covenant is very helpful, and I can see myself using his analogies of filter, lens and prism in my own teaching.

However, the central thesis of this book, that discipleship should be identified with the ‘righteous demands’ of the New Covenant, requires closer examination. Whilst Lunde spends the bulk of his book working out the implications of this assertion, he devotes little or no time to defending it in the first place. On what basis should we choose covenant as the category in which to define discipleship? Why privilege it over, say, kingdom obedience (though the two are not unrelated), love (John 13:35), or the obedience of a student to his teacher (Luke 6:40)?

On this last, Lunde somewhat disarmingly asserts that ‘This book is not a detailed examination of the historical background of the term “disciple” (mathētēs) or of the nature of the relationship between Jewish rabbis and their students in first-century Palestine,’ admitting that ‘this approach to discipleship is somewhat unexpected’ (32). However, this omission represents a weakness in Lunde’s overall position, since by it he effectively broadens the scope of biblical discipleship to be coextensive with anything one does as a Christian. Similarly, he effectively defines the ‘righteous demands’ of a covenant as anything done by the lesser party of the covenant that is not part of the ‘condition’ of a conditional covenant. In this way he is able to equate the two disparate concepts. One wonders why, if covenant is so important in understanding discipleship the New Testament writers rarely (if ever) refer to it?

Another methodological weakness in Lunde’s argument is that it is largely founded on characteristics of individual covenants assumed also to be characteristic of the New Covenant. In the early chapters, he establishes certain characteristics that are common to all covenants – prior grace, sustaining grace, righteous demands. Yet in latter chapters he argues from, say, the law of the Mosaic covenant to the ‘law’ of the New Covenant without offering justification of this reasoning. This is not to say that such a position is unjustifiable, just that Lunde hasn’t justified it. Perhaps his assumption is that the New Covenant is the sum of prior covenants, incorporating them in their entirety albeit mediated by Christ in the same ways as articulated for the Mosaic law?

In summary, then, Lunde has offered us an excellent book on ‘covenantal obedience’. It is left to the reader to decide whether this may then be equated with New Covenant ‘discipleship’.

Endnotes

1. Jonathan Lunde, Following Jesus, the Servant King: A Biblical Theology of Covenantal Discipleship, Biblical Theology for Life (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2010).

Recently Zondervan announced a blog tour for their relatively new series of commentaries, the Zondervan Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament (ZECNT). The deal was that they would supply a review copies to those willing to post a review on their blog and their favourite retailer (Amazon etc.) during the week of the 15th-22nd December. Well, being an Australian, it seems that the international timezones worked in my favour for once, and I managed to sign up quickly enough to ‘make the list’! Sadly my copy of Thomas Schreiner’s volume on Galatians¹ only arrived a couple of days before the blog tour was to begin, so my review will be slightly truncated.²

My plan, therefore, is to try and give an overview of the volume, before demonstrating how it might be used by a student to prepare an exegesis paper, or a preacher to prepare a sermon. I have chosen Galatians 4:21-5:1 as a case study for this purpose, being one of the more difficult passages to comprehend in Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians.

Series overview

Target audience

According to the back cover, the series is ‘Designed for the pastor and Bible teacher'; the series preface qualifies this by noting that ‘Those who will benefit the most from this commentary will have had the equivalent of two years of Greek in college or seminary’ (11). This is a fairly good fit with my own situation, and indeed I had little difficulty following Schreiner’s arguments when discussing the Greek text. Occasional reference to Wallace’s Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics³ should be sufficient for most.

Layout

The construction and layout of the commentary is quite pleasant and easily readable.⁴ Those bearing the scars of having to work through any of the volumes in the Word Bible Commentary need have no fear of suffering relapse! The text is mainly in a single column per page, though it moves to two columns per page for the explanation of individual verses and footnotes. One oddity is that a large margin is given around the single-column text (3-4cm), which will please margin-scribblers, but not around the double-column text.

Structure

The macro-structure of each volume in the series is fairly typical: an introduction covering details of authorship, provenance etc.; section-by section commentary on the text itself; and a final chapter surveying themes of the Epistle.

Each chapter of the commentary proper follows a pre-defined structure, composed of seven sections:

• Literary Context
• Main Idea
• Translation and Graphical Layout
• Structure
• Exegetical Outline
• Explanation
• Theology in Application

I will defer discussion of the value of these sections until we come to the case study.

The commentary itself

Thomas Schreiner has produced a thoroughly up-to-date and lucid commentary on Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians. His position may be broadly classed as conservative evangelical – indeed, he declares his intentions in his preface:

I know it is out of fashion in some circles, but it seems to me that Martin Luther and John Calvin were substantially right in their interpretation of the letter and than their pastoral application of the letter still stands today (13).

Readers of Schreiner’s more systematic works⁵ will find little here to surprise them, saving perhaps his facility with sustained exegesis.

Throughout the remainder of this review, I will assess the utility of this volume in regard to what I suppose to be typical ‘methods’ for exegesis and preaching. For exegesis, I will use Gordon Fee’s New Testament Exegesis⁶ as my reference point; for preaching, Haddon Robinson’s Biblical Preaching. ⁷ Their respective ‘methods’ may be briefly stated as follows:⁸

Exegesis (Fee)9

Preaching (Robinson)10

Survey the historical context in general Confirm the limits of the passage. Become thoroughly acquainted with your paragraph/pericope. Analyze sentence structures and syntactical relationships. Establish the text. Analyze the grammar. Analyze significant words. Research the historical-cultural background. Determine the formal character of the epistle. Examine the historical context in particular. Determine the literary context. Consider the broader biblical and theological contexts. Consult secondary literature. Provide a finished translation. Write the paper.

Selecting the passage Studying the passage Discovering the Exegetical Idea Analyzing the Exegetical Idea Formulating the Homiletical Idea Determining the Sermon’s Purpose Deciding How to Accomplish This Purpose Outlining the Sermon Filling in the Sermon Outline Preparing the Introduction and Conclusion

Obviously, no commentary will be of assistance at all these points – nor should it be. Yet hopefully an analytical framework such as this will be of some assistance to those reading this review in assessing where Schreiner’s commentary might best serve them, even if not familiar with the specific ‘methods’ referred to here.¹¹

Introduction

Useful for: Fee i, viii-xi and, arguably, Robinson ii.¹²

The Introduction covers the essential background of the Epistle (Author, Recipients, Date, Situation etc.). For instance, Schreiner surveys the debate about whether Paul’s intended destination is ethnic Galatians (the North Galatian theory) or those of the Roman province of Galatia (the South Galatian theory) noting both arguments and counter-arguments. He eventually settles on a South Galatian theory, though he rightly notes in conclusion that:

Identifying the recipients of Galatians is important for Pauline chronology and history, but it is not determinative for the interpretation of the letter, and the meaning of the letter does not change dramatically whether we opt for a north or a south Galatian hypothesis.

Also in the Introduction, Schreiner discusses some of the problems inherent in the process known as ‘Mirror-Reading’ (or ‘Mirror-Exegesis’). Here he largely follows an article by John Barclay,¹³ though he does simplify Barclay’s method – and not necessarily for the better. Barclay presents seven criteria to use when mirror-reading a polemical text; Schreiner retains some, amalgamates some, and discards the rest. The differences may be illustrated as follows:

Barclay	Schreiner
	(1) Explicit statements about opponents or recipients
(1) Type of utterance (assertion, denial, command, prohibitions etc.)
(2) Tone
(3) Frequency	(2) Frequency and Clarity
(4) Clarity
	(3) Prefer simple reconstructions
(5) Unfamiliarity
(6) Consistency
(7) Historical plausibility	(4) Historical plausibility

Thus it may be seen that Schreiner’s method is less rigorous than that proposed by Barclay. Indeed, his points (1) and (3) are largely common sense, and applicable to all NT epistles, whilst points (3) and (4), lacking the discipline of Barclay’s categories, are too subjective to be of great benefit.

Schreiner also interacts with two of the more common methods for analysing Galatians, namely rhetorical and epistolary analyses, giving enough background for students to understand what is at issue.

Themes in Galatians

Useful for: Fee xii.

At the other end of his commentary, Schreiner presents a chapter on ‘Themes in Galatians’. Here he traces several topics as they are presented in Galatians, including God, christology, anthropology, the ‘Truth of the Gospel’, ‘Justification by Faith’, the pneumatology, eschatology, the relationship between law and covenant, Jews and Gentiles, ‘Freedom in Christ to Obey’ and the ‘Danger of Apostasy’. His comments in this section are insightful, which is unsurprising in light of his more systematic works already mentioned.

Having surveyed, then, the framework within which his work is presented, let us consider as an example Schreiner’s commentary upon Galatians 4:21-5:1.

Case Study: Galatians 4:21-5:1

Galatians 4:21-5:1 is, in my view, one of the most puzzling portions of Galatians for the modern exegete. Paul here utilises methods of exegesis that are strange indeed to the modern exegete trained in historical-grammatical methods. It is for this reason that I have chosen this passage as a test case; if Schreiner is able to shed light on the most difficult of passages then, presumably, he will be at least as helpful in less difficult texts.

I will address each section of Schreiner’s chapter on this text in turn.

Literary Context

Useful for: Fee ii-iii and Robinson i.

Schreiner notes that the first imperative (apart from 3:7) in the letter appeared in the previous section, leading us to expect further paraenesis here. On the other hand, he also cites Betz’ argument that this section belongs with the probatio (i.e. proofs in support of the main thesis) that commenced at 3:1. Schreiner grouping it with the former.

The principles of allegory are obviously pertinent to this passage, with Paul explicitly stating that certain elements of the narrative regarding Sarah and Hagar should be taken ‘allegorically’ (ἀλληγορούμενα). Thus Schreiner helpfully presents the distinction between technical definitions of ‘allegory’ and ‘typology’. He renders the verdict that the text is ‘typological allegory’ (293), following Betz. Specifically, he identifies vv. 24-27 as allegory, and the rest as typology. The arguments are presented in a helpful manner, including two helpful references to writings by Andrew Lincoln and Charles Cosgrove that the interested reader might follow up.¹⁴

In my view, the most helpful part of this section is the abbreviated exegetical outline presented as part of the ‘Literary Context’.

1. Introduction: Desertion from Paul’s Gospel Is Desertion from the Gospel (1:1-2:21)
2. Paul’s Gospel Defended from Experience and Scripture (3:1-4:11)
3. A Call to Freedom from the Law and Freedom in the Spirit (4:12-6:10)
   1. Live in Freedom from the Law: Argument from Friendship (4:12-20)
   2. Stand in Freedom: Argument from Allegory (4:21-5:1)

Thus, one can see at a glance that we are dealing with (in Schreiner’s view) the second argument within the paraenetic section, without having to refer back to the introduction as is common in most commentaries. It is particularly helpful for those who, like me, are called upon to preach a passage in the middle of a book, without necessarily having time or opportunity to work through the entire book. In other words, it goes a long way to making each chapter of the commentary self-contained.

Main Idea

Useful for: Fee iii, Robinson iii.

Given how short it is, I quote Schreiner’s ‘Main Idea’ in full:

Paul drives to the conclusion of the argument in 4:31 and 5:1. Believers are children of the free woman, not the slave woman. And since they are now free in Christ, they must not return again to the slavery of living under the law (5:1). (294)

This is very useful for those of us who are deductive (or top-down) learners. With this skeleton of understanding in place, provided it is not accepted uncritically, the exegete will be well on the way to understanding the passage and the expository preacher to capturing the ‘big idea’ of their sermon.

Translation

Useful for: Fee v, xiv.

Here, the author’s own translation of the passage from the Greek text. Each clause is presented on its own line, with a brief description and suitably indented to indicate function. Prepositions are highlighted to show their function in the structure of the text. This last allows those unfamiliar with the Greek to observe, for example, that there is no conjunction between 4:20 and 21, signalling a possible break in train of thought. The overall result is that the text is presented graphically so as to represent clearly the logical and grammatical structure of the text. This is of great value to exegete and homiletician alike.

Structure

Useful for: Fee iv, vi, Robinson iv and possibly viii.

This section surveys the ways in which the textual unit is subdivided. Together with the previous section, this is useful in determining the logical flow and objectives of the passage. In this instance, Schreiner highlights the movement towards the conclusion in 4:31, with a restatement and transition to paraenesis in 5:1. Thus any exegetical paper or sermon that fails to deal with 4:31 will be inadequate.

Exegetical Outline

Useful for: As for the previous section, i.e. Fee iv, vi, Robinson iv and possibly viii.

Some preachers may be tempted to adopt the exegetical outline as their sermon outline also, but this will not always be appropriate. Nevertheless, like the previous section it should inform the final product and the two should at least not be inconsistent.

One thing that caught my eye in Schreiner’s exegetical outline was his description of 4:26-27 as ‘Jerusalem above: free and fertile’ (298). It is easy to lose sight of the ‘barren/fertile’ contrast in these verses given the over-riding ‘slave/free’ antithesis in the overall passage. He then develops this idea in the explanation of these verses, to which we now turn.

Explanation of the Text

Useful for: Fee iii-viii, although v may require supplementary resources as Schreiner rarely comments on textual variants. Thus, while there are textual variants in 4:21, 23, 25, 26, 28, 30, 31 and 5:1, Schreiner only comments on the most significant one (4:25).

Here Schreiner offers a number of valuable observations on individual verses. For instance, he brings out the negative connotations of ‘according to the flesh’ (κατὰ σάρκα) in 4:23, and the ‘startling’ nature of the link between Hagar and Sinai in 4:24b-c, although his explanation for the latter is a little vague. ‘Just as Hagar was Sarah’s slave and Ishmael did not receive God’s covenantal promises, so too Israel’s life under the law was marked by slavery to sin’ (301). True enough, but hardly a link the (Gentile) Galatians would have made without further prompting.

One of Schreiner’s most trenchant observations is on Gal 4:27:

Isaiah 54:1 is introduced to support Paul’s argument in Gal 4:26, showing that the Gentile Christians in Galatia are the children of the Jerusalem above, for [304] they are the children of the barren woman from whom no children were expected. Miraculously and supernaturally they have new life. (303)

Here, at last, we have a plausible explanation for the connection drawn between ‘the free woman’ and the Gentiles. This deserves further exposition.

Theology in Application

Useful for: Fee xii and, sometimes, Robinson iii.

This is, in my view, the weakest portion of the ZECNT format in general and Schreiner’s commentary in particular. Whilst the idea – to capture the ‘theological message of the passage’ (12) – is laudable, in practice this section does not always seem to be governed by the intent of the author. As a result, some of these reflections prove orthogonal to the text they purport to exposit, with the intersection limited to a word, phrase or concept. As a case in point, the reflections for the current passage are on ‘Liberation from Sin’ and ‘Living under Grace’. The former deals with the nature of ‘freedom’, but the exposition thereof has little to do with the text. Similarly, the latter concerns ‘signs that we are living under grace’ (309), again boasting only a tenuous connection to the text.

Conclusions

Thomas Schreiner has offered a solid exposition of Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians. His comments are generally quite insightful, and his prose fluent and lucid. Those undertaking more in-depth exposition of the Greek text, exhaustive analysis of grammar and background, or cutting-edge research in the field, however, will need to look elsewhere as that is not the intent of this series. In other words, Schreiner and Zondervan have hit their target audience, but the utility of the volume falls off fairly sharply as you move to either side of that target.

Who, then, would I recommend this volume to? Seminary and Bible college students will profit by Schreiner’s diagramming of structure and his thoroughly up-to-date pointers to the secondary literature, though the value of the latter will obviously decline with time. For pastors and preachers, this volume will be a reliable guide to the exegetical portions of sermon preparation but, as noted above, your mileage may vary on hermeneutical suggestions – this is, after all, the Zondervan Exegetical Commentary series! Thus, if you are looking for an up-to-date exegetical commentary on Galatians from a conservative evangelical position, this volume would be a very good choice.

Bibliography

Barclay, John M. G. “Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case.” Journal for the Study of the New Testament no. 31 (1987): 73-93.

Barclay, John M. G. “Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case.” In The Galatians Debate: Contemporary Issues in Rhetorical and Historical Interpretation, edited by Mark D. Nanos, lvi, 517 p. Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002.

Fee, Gordon D. New Testament Exegesis : A Handbook for Students and Pastors. 3rd ed. Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002.

Robinson, Haddon W. Biblical Preaching : The Development and Delivery of Expository Messages. 2nd ed. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2001.

Schreiner, Thomas R. Galatians, Zondervan Exegetical Commentary Series on the New Testament. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2010.

Schreiner, Thomas R. New Testament Theology : Magnifying God in Christ. Nottingham: Apollos, 2008.

Schreiner, Thomas R. Paul, Apostle of God’s Glory in Christ : A Pauline Theology. Leicester: Inter-Varsity, 2001.

Wallace, Daniel B. Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics : An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament. Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 1996.

Endnotes

1. Thomas R. Schreiner, Galatians, Zondervan Exegetical Commentary Series on the New Testament (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2010). Page numbers from this work will be given in parentheses in the text.
2. I was unable to read the entire commentary in the time allotted; the comments that follow, therefore, are based on my reading of the preface, introduction, chapters 1-3, 8, 17-18 and the chapter on ‘Themes in Galatians’.
3. Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar Beyond the Basics : An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 1996).
4. A sample is available, which gives access to the introduction and first couple of chapters.
5. See, e.g., Thomas R. Schreiner, New Testament Theology : Magnifying God in Christ (Nottingham: Apollos, 2008), 646-62. and ———, Paul, Apostle of God’s Glory in Christ : A Pauline Theology (Leicester: Inter-Varsity, 2001), 103-26,307-30 for some of Schreiner’s previous expositions of Pauline attitudes to the Law.
6. Gordon D. Fee, New Testament Exegesis : A Handbook for Students and Pastors, 3rd ed. (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002).
7. Haddon W. Robinson, Biblical Preaching : The Development and Delivery of Expository Messages, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic, 2001).
8. I will refer back to this table using a combination of the author’s name and small roman numeral e.g. Fee ii.
9. Fee, Exegesis, 6-7 and passim. Specifically, the following steps are Fee’s method for writing an exegetical paper on an epistle.
10. Robinson, Biblical Preaching, passim.
11. Fee xiii may be assumed throughout, as Schreiner is a reliable and thoroughly informed guide to the secondary literature.
12. In fact, in many ways Robinson ii = Fee i-xv!
13. John M. G. Barclay, “Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament, no. 31 (1987): 84-5. = ———, “Mirror-Reading a Polemical Letter: Galatians as a Test Case,” in The Galatians Debate: Contemporary Issues in Rhetorical and Historical Interpretation, ed. Mark D. Nanos (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002), 376-8.; cf. Schreiner, Galatians, 32-3.
14. One small detail, somewhat obscured by Schreiner’s discussion here, but picked up somewhat in the comments on individual verses, is that neither Sarah nor Ishmael are mentioned by name in this passage.