“What is true in him and also in you is that the darkness is passing away and the true light is already shining.”

In the resurrection of Jesus and the regeneration of our hearts, the new creation is here, pushing back the darkness. One day, the universal regeneration will be completed—the kingdom consummated, the curses rolled back, the darkness departed.

In some sense, the history of the universe is the story of God’s moving from the first creation to the second. We live in an age of overlap, between the ending of the first and the dawning of the second.

Loving this life, but deeply aching for the next.

For example, writing about Jesus’ betrayal, Herbert pictures the crowd blundering along with lanterns in the dark seeking the sun of the universe. (Note that Jesus is speaking in the first person.)

Herbert later shows the irony of the scourging and mocking—men using their fists to beat the one who holds heaven, earth, and even them in his fist.

A couple of stanzas about the cross. The first shows the irony of the crowd’s call for Christ to come down from the cross—the one who has come down from heaven. The second shows the irony of Christ’s position between two thieves—the one who has stolen nothing but death itself.

The poem is full of poignant pictures like these.

Here is the point: The cross is the ultimate paradox; sinless God killed for sinful man. Yet, ironically, it is in the ultimate paradox that we find ultimate resolution.

I’ve been thinking about it a bit more recently and here’s what I’ve realized: in the most important sense, we really do know what we’re doing with our lives. It’s just the nonessentials—things like education, career, location, and money—that tend to be blurry.

God actually provides extremely clear direction. Love Him, love the church, seek the kingdom. Those kinds of things. It is not complicated and it never fluctuates with the external context.

So what do I want to do with my life? Love God, love the church, seek the kingdom. Those kinds of things. I guess I believe that if I do, all the nonessentials will fall into place.

I have at least tentatively come to the following conclusion: We were created not only to do what is right and believe what is true, but to experience what is beautiful. My understanding of the innate yearnings of my own nature has driven me to this place. I also believe the Bible furnishes support. The God of the Bible is an entity to be loved, enjoyed, desired, feared with the emotions and not just with the intellect or with outward actions. And every experience of truly beautiful things in this world is a conduit of an experience of God himself. So in Scripture, we are encouraged to experience God through poetry (some much of the Bible is poetry), music, physical nature (stars, mountains, trees) and the like.

This is nebulous, but true. It is important to feel.

That is why I pursue literature, music, and other forms of art. If I do not, I run the risk of starving my soul–of cutting it off from a means God has provided for experiencing Him. To live a life devoid of feeling is to live a life that is less than it was created to be.

And so it is not a waste of time to sit down and read a classic novel or work of epic poetry, to listen to a piece of music, or to view a painting—to feel them. The experience of beauty (inasmuch as it is the conduit of an experience of God) is an end in itself; and a worthy end.

Obviously, there is a correspondence between right experience and truth and obedience. There are many dangerous experiences that can be gained in some art. But when experience is linked with right actions and right ideas, something occurs that is truly honoring to God.

The Mill on the Floss is about Maggie Tulliver’s pursuit of what is great and beautiful; books, poetry, love, etc. As she grows up, she despairs of finding what she desires and gives up the pursuit. Through reading Thomas a Kempis, she comes to think that happiness can be found in “doing here duty” and dying to these desires for beauty and experience. She cannot do it. She starves her soul. Eventually, she takes up the pursuit again and this time almost follows it to the point of breaking with relational fidelity, her conscience, and what is good. But she cannot do this either and she turns back.

Eliot would not quite argue for what I am arguing here, but her book brings out a helpful idea. We should not pursue what is right—our “duty”—at the expense of what is great and beautiful. It starves us and we become dry and inhuman. We also should not pursue what is great and beautiful at the expense of what is right, because beauty without goodness is not beauty at all.

So long as what we are experiencing is truly beautiful, we must pursue experiences of beauty.

I believe the last time I did this I said, “Well, college is school so I mostly just study.” That holds true still. And I can’t imagine why anyone would want to be done in less than four years. Seriously, my life is a dream. My job is to read books, listen to lectures, write out paradigms, love my church, and hang out with friends.

I’m taking Greek I, Church History I, Religion in the Public Square, Introduction to Missions, History of the Bible, and voice lessons.

Greek is all that it is cracked up to be. We’re already nearly half-way through our text book. I feel like I’m breaking down the barriers between me and the text of the Bible. Church History and Religion in the Public Square (both with Chad Brand) are excellent. Dr. Brand is probably the most interesting lecturer that I’ve heard at Boyce. I’ve also enjoyed holing up in the library and ferreting out the source material surrounding our subjects. In Intro to Missions, I have appreciated Dr. Carlton’s seeming emphasis on the Bible as the basis for missions impulse and methodology. History of the Bible with Charles Draper is exceptional. We’ve mostly been studying the history of written communication. Lovin’ it.

I have great friends, both at church and at school. After having lived here a year, relationships are more comfortable. You especially bond with those you work through third declension consonantal iota stems with.

My relationship with Christ has been more alive than last year. I’ve switched my schedule so that I can read my Bible and pray at night instead of in the morning. It has helped a great deal. I’m thankful for that.

Yet, in the middle of all this, I have increasingly been feeling a sense of dissatisfaction. In a temporal sense, nothing could be better. But in an eternal sense, everything could be better–and will be. This is not my home. My home is a new heavens and new earth in which righteousness dwells. May God give us all a sense of dissatisfaction with this life. And may He soon bring the next.

First off, writing is a result of counting. Things like this always tend to happen out of necessity, and it was necessary for the early Ancient Near Easterners to count. “How many sheep do I have this year in comparison to how many sheep I had last year?” That sort of thing can mean the difference between survival and death.

We have to understand a few things about early counting. (1) Counting was concrete and (2) it was one-to-one.

Let’s say you are an Ancient Near Eastern farmer who needs to count sheep.

1. You would have to have an object that represents a sheep. None of this intangible stuff on paper. No, you must be able to hold the object in your hand.

2. Also, this object represents one sheep and one only.

3. Finally, it only represents a sheep. You can’t use this object to count cows, for example. None of this universal number stuff; two sheep, two cows. There is a different object to represent different realities.

So here you are counting your sheep. You see one sheep and lay out one of the objects that represents sheep. You see another sheep and you lay out another object. And so on. Literally, these are screaming at you, “one sheep, one sheep, one sheep, one sheep . . .” Then you move to cows. You see one cow and lay out one different object that represents cows. These are telling you, “one cow, one cow, one cow . . .”

Well, they started using a category of objects for counting purposes that we call “tokens.” These were little clay objects that represented the things that were counted. There are tons of different kinds. After all, they had to have a different kind for each thing they wanted to count. Often they were just small versions of the real thing. A little sheep-looking token would be used to count sheep. For storage purposes, these were kept in clay containers called envelopes (they don’t look like mail envelopes).

Now watch the progression from concrete to abstract. Since they didn’t want to have to break these clay envelopes every time they needed to find out what tokens were inside, they started to make an impression of the tokens on the outside. They would kind of stamp it on the outside before putting it in. Now check this out. One fine day, a bright young Ancient Near Eastern (probably taking a brisk morning walk) realized something: “Dude! Since we have the impression of the token on the outside representing the things we are counting, we don’t necessarily have to have the tokens inside! We never look at them anyway.” Brilliant. All of a sudden, we’ve gone from concrete hold-it-in-your-hand kind of stuff to abstract markings on clay.

It was just a step then (okay maybe a few hundred years) from impressing the tokens on the clay, to making other marks, to picture writing.

I love this stuff.

Here is what I have come to understand: Most often, Jesus is seen, not in specifics, but in historical themes.

Neat one-to-one relations between someone or something in the Old Testament and Jesus sometimes do appear. Jesus is directly linked to the Passover lamb for instance. But so much emphasis is placed on these occurrences that we sometimes think that Jesus is not seen in the Old Testament other than in specific type/antitype relations. We think that finding Christ in the whole Bible means searching Leviticus trying to find them. I believe, however, that it was God’s intention to build a history of the world, with all of its grand occurrences and themes, that does nothing but point to Jesus.

The prophecy of Micah puts forward an excellent example. When reading Micah, two themes emerge. Number one, God hates the Jews. Number two, God loves the Jews. There is an obvious tension between judgment because of sin and blessing because of the Abrahamic covenant. Both are necessary to God’s righteousness. He is holy and just, so He must punish sin. He is also faithful and true, keeping his promises and upholding His covenant, which entails salvation and blessing for Israel. And so, in Micah, when He judges He ought to be redeeming, and when he redeems He ought to be judging. The two realities are indispensible and mutually exclusive.

There is a place in Micah which outlines this tension starkly.

“Therefore, on account of you Zion will be ploughed as a field. Jerusalem will become a heap of ruins, and the mountain of the temple will become high places of a forest. And it will come about in the last days that the mountain of the house of the Lord will be established as the chief of the mountains. It will be raised above the hills. And the people will stream to it.” –Micah 3:12-4:1

In one verse, God is unleashing his anger because of Jewish sin. In the next verse, God is redeeming them. One moment, mount Zion is desolate. The next, it is the chief of all the mountains of the world. The tension is unmistakable.

Here is the goal that these historical realities are pushing toward: Jesus is the resolver of the tension. On the cross, He takes the hatred of God for the Jews. In the resurrection, He is the first to receive the true love and blessing that they would all gain through Him. Thus God is righteous in judgment and in redemption. He is able to judge the Jews in Christ and He is able to redeem them in Christ. The conflict of God’s love and God’s judgment that existed throughout all Jewish history is brought to resolution in Jesus.

You may argue that there is no New Testament verse to support that Christ is the resolver of the tension found in Micah. You are right. And that is just my point. Finding Christ in the whole Bible is not about specifics, it is about themes. The thematic love/judgment tension is plain in the Old Testament, and the theme of Christ’s resolution of it is plain in the New Testament.

Sometimes God does reveal Himself through specifics, but more often He reveals Himself through progressive history. So here is my challenge to you: read the whole Bible as an account of history that is pushing toward one culminating end—Jesus the Christ.

Bryan Elliff © 2009

There is a certain aspect of this discipline about which I have wanted to put down my thoughts for a while. I want to argue for the desirability of what I will call “open-mindedness.”

Open-mindedness is the willingness to consider ideas, especially those that do not conform to previously held ideas. It is the ability to say, “That idea might be true,” to examine it, and to accept or reject it based on certain grounds.

Open-mindedness is desirable for at least three reasons. The first reason will serve as a foundation for the second and third.

First and most importantly, open-mindedness is desirable because it is necessary for understanding. If you are not willing to temporarily concede a person’s presuppositions, to acknowledge the faults of your own ideas, and to honestly consider his propositions, you cannot truly understand his position. Even if you are able to repeat his arguments back to him satisfactorily, you may not really understand them. There must be a connection of intellects, what Mortimer Adler calls a “meeting of minds.” You must attempt climb inside his head and see everything from his perspective. This is the core of real understanding and it cannot be achieved without the willingness to say, “This proposition might be true.”

Second, open-mindedness is desirable because the proposition in question might indeed be true. It really might be! A person who never changes his mind is a person who will never get very close to the truth. I used to think that the “Old West” was a geographical location (but not a temporal one as well) to which I could simply “go” and see all the cowboys, Indians, saloons, etc. I am glad that I exercised enough open-mindedness to allow this idea to be reformed.

Third, open-mindedness is desirable because it is essential to responsible criticism. Ineffective criticism can almost always be traced to either incomplete research or a lack of open-mindedness. The person who approaches a proposition thinking, “This is incorrect and I am just trying to determine why” will always critique ineffectively because he will fail to truly understand the proposition. And the critique will also be ineffective because no one of another viewpoint will listen with an open mind to the criticism of a closed mind.

What I have said needs some tempering. Open-mindedness does not call for intellectual insecurity. It does not call for a life of doubt. It simply calls for responsibility and honesty. Some ideas can be rejected are accepted more quickly than others. We do not need to reinvent our philosophy every time a new idea is introduced. All I ask is that new ideas be heard fairly. Temporarily concede the presuppositions and responsibly examine the propositions. Carefully open your mind and say, “This idea might be true.” It will lead to genuine understanding, more truthful thinking, and more effective criticism.

Well first off, college is school. I like school so that’s okay, but most of the time I study. This semester I am taking Great Books II, Worldviews II, Introduction to Christian Education, Ancient Near Eastern History, Theology I, and Theological Latin.

Great Books II is probably my favourite class. It’s a seminar, which means that it is discussion oriented. Essentially, we read great books and then discuss them for three hours a week. So far we’ve read book 1 of Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene, John Buyan’s Grace Abounding and Pilgrim’s Progress, selected poems of George Herbert, and John Milton’s Paradise Lost.

Latin is also good. The class itself does not require a lot of work (being an introduction for research purposes), so I do a lot on my own. I’m excited to see progress! Over the last two or three days, I have translated 1, 2, and 3 John. 1 and 2 John were not that hard for me. 3 John was a little more difficult, though. Next to one paragraph, I wrote, “Weird paragraph. Come back to it in a few months.” Too many participles. Benjamin says that participles are the genius of Latin and Greek. I agree. I’m just not genius enough to match them yet.

I love my church here. This semester has deepened relationships and I just feel more naturally a part of things. Thank God for instituting the local church. What a gift! For me, the Church is life. It is why I exist.

Benjamin and I have been trying to get exercise every morning this semester. For a long time we did this through a basketball game we call “Gruelling.” It would be too difficult and tedious to explain here but the name gives you the idea. Recently, however, we have been playing racquetball. Neither of us knew how to play before last week, so I’m sure we aren’t that good. It is a ton of fun, though. Good exercise as well. I am trying to cultivate a deep-seated feeling of respect and submission in my bro here and he is on the same mission reciprocally, so it makes for good games.

In that last paragraph, I used the word “neither.” Those of you who know me well will remember that I pronounce it “neether.” Well, I’ve decided to change. My friend Brian Moffatt pronounces it like “n-eye-ther,” which is more consistent in my opinion. So it’s n-eye-ther from here on out. Moffatt also has tried to convince me to pronounce aunt like “awnt” instead of “ant.” That is also more consistent in my opinion. But I can’t change. I told him, “If I went home saying “awnt” everyone would think I have become an intellectual snob.” He probably responded with “dude” or “bro” or “dog” or something like that. He’s great. If you don’t know him you’re missing out. He is one of many great friends.

I’m kind of tired. This semester has been very busy and the constant deadlines are wearing me out. Only slightly though! I’ve still got plenty of stamina to carry me through. I tip my proverbial hat to those who go to school full time and work full time. They are much more tired than me.

Life is good. It really is. God is pushing this whole entropic universe towards regeneration; a regeneration in which we will take part. I love that idea. More than other idea in the world, I love that.

God, bring it soon. Bring it now.

There is very little that has damaged us more in the past several hundred years than the isolation of the Bible from its historical surroundings. We understand, and understand rightly, that the Bible speaks to the modern man. But in consequence we sometimes think, and unfortunately think wrongly, that it is like a stain-remover that can be applied topically to any situation.

We read the prophets, but with no knowledge of contemporaneous events in the ancient Near East. We teach about Jesus feeding the five thousand, but with no conception of the starvation rates of his day. We speak of Pauline theology, but with no regard for the state of Semitism or paganism and the consequent state of Paul’s mind and the minds of his hearers in the mid First Century.

Consider this: maybe we have taken the Bible out of the sea and placed it in the Georgia Aquarium. And there is Paul, or John, or Peter, bloated and confined, staring at us with vacant eyes—no sign of the life and power with which they once communicated truth. Maybe we have taken the Bible out of its natural habitat, stripping it—its characters, events, and teachings—of real meaning.

Do not misunderstand me. The Bible does speak to the modern man. But it speaks, for lack of a more capable word, indirectly. We cannot simply take Scripture, derive a theology, and then apply that theology to modern life. That leads to incorrect and weak interpretations. We must understand and apply the Bible through the historical situations in which it is set. Or, putting it inadequately, we must understand and apply it indirectly.

Do not equate the word indirect with impotent. One reason for the modern unwillingness to deal with Scripture on its own terms is the supposed irrelevance it would have to today’s readers. What, after all, do we really care about living in harmony as Jews and Gentiles within the church? There seems to be so little cash value. But should we really form our method of interpretation on our perception of its cash value? In fact, my experience has been quite the opposite. When the Bible is taken on its own ground, within its own context and with its own ways of thinking, it speaks more powerfully than any isolated application of some systematized theology. We must cease trying to make the Bible address the issues we think need to be addressed in the ways we think they must be addressed. Let it address its own issues in its own ways.

There is nothing wrong with systematic theology. It is quite natural and necessary that we put our understanding of truth into categories and systems. We should be excited about theology and the orderly way in which true Christian doctrine explains the world around us. That is not the problem. The problem is that, too often, we view the Bible as if lays out truth in a systematic fashion. It simply does not.

The biblical authors were writing within history. They were dealing with specific situations in time and space. So, if we are to correctly grasp the meaning of their words, we must not force them into an artificial grid. Understand them first inside their history, and then take what they have said and apply it to the modern man.

For example, the Apostle Paul never thought or wrote “theologically.” Let me explain. I am not saying that Paul didn’t “study God,” which is what the word literally means. I am saying that Paul never set out to compartmentalize or systematize what he knew to be truth. Rather, he spoke truth into history-to real people and real situations in Corinth, Rome, Galatia, Philippi, and so on. And if we seek to understand what he said by isolating it from history and putting it into a system, we run the risk of misunderstanding him completely.

Do you see what I mean when I say that we have put the Bible in the Georgia Aquarium? Take it out. Let it speak indirectly within its history, and you will find that it speaks more potently than any isolated “theology” ever could.

Copyright © 2009 Bryan Elliff www.bryanelliff.wordpress.com