http://theologica.blogspot.com/2005/09/sinclair-ferguson-on-new-perspective.html
http://theresurgence.com/bryan_chapell_2005_an_explanation_of_the_new_perspective_of_paul
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Ephesians 3:1-13 Conclusion. The major lesson taught by this first half of Ephesians 3 is the biblical centrality of the church. Some people construct a Christianity which consists entirely of a personal relationship to Jesus Christ and has virtually nothing to do with the church. Others make a grudging concession to the need for church membership, but add that they have given up the ecclesiastical institution as hopeless. Now it is understandable, even inevitable, that we are critical of many of the church’s inherited structures and traditions. Every church in every place at every time is in need of reform and renewal. But we need to beware lest we despise the church of God, and are blind to his work in history. We may safely say that God has not abandoned his church, however displeased with it he may be. He is still building and refining it. And if God has not abandoned it, how can we? It has a central place in his plan. What then does this passage teach about the biblical centrality of the church?a). The church is central to history. Verse 11, as we saw, alludes to *the eternal purpose* of God. It is also called his ‘plan’ or ‘the plan of the mystery’ (verse 9). What we are told is that this plan or purpose of God, which was conceived in eternity, kept ‘hidden for ages’ (verse 9) and ‘not made known to the sons of men in other generations’ (verse 5), he has now *realized in Christ Jesus our Lord*, first through his historical work of salvation and then through its subsequent proclamation in the world. What is this eternal purpose which is now being worked out in history, this divine plan which thus belongs to both history and eternity? It concerns the church, the creating of a new and reconciled humanity in union with Jesus Christ. This is the ‘mystery’, hidden for ages but now revealed. Is this our view of history? We have all studied history at school and may have found it (as I did) abominably dull. Perhaps we had to memorize lists of dates or of the kings and queens who ruled our country. But what is the point of history? Was Henry Ford right in 1919, during his libel suit with the Chicago Tribune, he said, ‘History is bunk’? Is history just the random succession of events, each effect having its cause and each cause its effect, yet the whole betraying no overall pattern but appearing rather as the meaningless development of the human story? Was Marx right in his dialectical understanding of the historical process? Or has history some other clue? Christians affirm in contrast to all other views, that history is ‘his story’, God’s story. For God is at work, moving from a plan conceived in eternity, through a historical outworking and disclosure, to a climax within history, and then on beyond it to another eternity of the future. The Bible has this linear understanding of time. And it tells us that the centre of God’s eternal-historical plan is Jesus Christ, together with his redeemed and reconciled people. In order to grasp this, it may be helpful to contrast the perspective of secular historians with that of the Bible. Secular history concentrates its attention on kings, queens and presidents, on politicians and generals, in fact on ‘VIPs’. The Bible concentrates rather on a group it calls ‘the saints’, often little people, insignificant people, unimportant people, who are however at the same time God’s people - and for that reason are both ‘unknown (to the world) and yet well-known (to God). Secular history concentrates on wars, battles and peace-treaties, followed by yet more wars, battles and peace-treaties. The Bible concentrates rather on the war between good and evil, on the decisive victory won by Jesus Christ over the powers of darkness, on the peace-treaty ratified by his blood, and on the sovereign proclamation of an amnesty for all rebels who will repent and believe. Again, secular history concentrates on the changing map of the world, as one nation defeats another and annexes its territory, and on the rise and fall of empires. The Bible concentrates rather on a multi-national community called ‘the church’, which has no territorial frontiers, which claims nothing less than the whole world for Christ, and whose empire will never come to an end. No doubt I have painted the contrast between the secular and the biblical views of history too starkly. For the Bible does not ignore the great empires of Babylon, Egypt, Greece and Rome; and a true secular history cannot ignore the fact of the church. Yet it is a question of perspective, of priorities. The living God is the God of all the nations of the world, yet within the universal human community there exists a ‘covenant community’, his own new society, the beginning of his new creation. It is to this people only that he has pledged himself with the everlasting promise: ‘I will be their God, and they shall be my people.’
b). The church is central to the gospel. The gospel which some of us proclaim is much too individualistic. ‘Christ died for me,’ we say, and then sing of heaven: ‘Oh, that will be glory for me.’ Both affirmations are true. As for the first, the apostle himself could write, ‘The Son of God...loved me and gave himself for me,’ (Gal.2:20). As for the so-called ‘glory song’, the gospel does promise ‘glory’ for believers in heaven. But this is far from being the full gospel. For it is evident from Ephesians 3 that the full gospel concerns both Christ and the ‘mystery’ of Christ. The good news of the unsearchable riches of Christ which Paul preached is that he died and rose again not only to save sinners like me (though he did), but also to create a single new humanity; not only to redeem us from sin but also to adopt us into God’s family; not only to reconcile us to God but also to reconcile us to one another. Thus the church is an integral part of the gospel. The gospel is good news of a new society as well as of a new life.c). The church is central to Christian living. It is noteworthy that Paul concludes this section as he began it (verse 1), namely with a reference to his own sufferings in the Gentile cause. He addresses to them the following exhortation: *So I ask you not to lose heart over what I am suffering for you, which is your glory* (verse 13). Now ‘suffering’ and ‘glory’ are constantly coupled in the New Testament. Jesus said that he would enter his glory through suffering, and that his followers would have to tread the same path. Here, however, Paul writes something different, namely that *his* sufferings will bring *them* (his Gentile readers) glory. He is suffering in prison on their behalf, as their champion, standing firm for their inclusion in God’s new society. So convinced is he of the divine origin of his vision that he is prepared to pay any price to see it become a reality. That is the measure of Paul’s concern for the church. Now of course it may be argued that Paul was exceptional. He was after all the apostle to the Gentiles. He had received a special revelation and a special commission. So one would expect him to have to suffer for the church. Nevertheless, the principle is applicable to all Christians. If the church is central to God’s purpose, as seen in both history and the gospel, it must surely also be central to our lives. How can we take lightly what God takes so seriously? How dare we push to the circumference what God has placed at the centre? No, we shall seek to become responsible church members, active in some local manifestation of the universal church. We shall not be able to acquiesce in low standards which fall far short of the New Testament ideals for God’s new society, whether mechanical, meaningless worship services, or fellowship which is icy cold and even spoiled by rivalries which make the Lord’s Supper a farce, or such inward-looking isolation as to turn the church into a ghetto which is indifferent to the outside world and its pain. If instead (like Paul) we keep before us the vision of God’s new society as his family, his dwelling place and his instrument in the world, then we shall constantly be seeking to make our church’s worship more authentic, its fellowship more caring and its outreach more compassionate. In other words (like Paul again), we shall be ready to pray, to work and if necessary to suffer in order to turn the vision into a reality.
b). The church is central to the gospel. The gospel which some of us proclaim is much too individualistic. ‘Christ died for me,’ we say, and then sing of heaven: ‘Oh, that will be glory for me.’ Both affirmations are true. As for the first, the apostle himself could write, ‘The Son of God...loved me and gave himself for me,’ (Gal.2:20). As for the so-called ‘glory song’, the gospel does promise ‘glory’ for believers in heaven. But this is far from being the full gospel. For it is evident from Ephesians 3 that the full gospel concerns both Christ and the ‘mystery’ of Christ. The good news of the unsearchable riches of Christ which Paul preached is that he died and rose again not only to save sinners like me (though he did), but also to create a single new humanity; not only to redeem us from sin but also to adopt us into God’s family; not only to reconcile us to God but also to reconcile us to one another. Thus the church is an integral part of the gospel. The gospel is good news of a new society as well as of a new life.c). The church is central to Christian living. It is noteworthy that Paul concludes this section as he began it (verse 1), namely with a reference to his own sufferings in the Gentile cause. He addresses to them the following exhortation: *So I ask you not to lose heart over what I am suffering for you, which is your glory* (verse 13). Now ‘suffering’ and ‘glory’ are constantly coupled in the New Testament. Jesus said that he would enter his glory through suffering, and that his followers would have to tread the same path. Here, however, Paul writes something different, namely that *his* sufferings will bring *them* (his Gentile readers) glory. He is suffering in prison on their behalf, as their champion, standing firm for their inclusion in God’s new society. So convinced is he of the divine origin of his vision that he is prepared to pay any price to see it become a reality. That is the measure of Paul’s concern for the church. Now of course it may be argued that Paul was exceptional. He was after all the apostle to the Gentiles. He had received a special revelation and a special commission. So one would expect him to have to suffer for the church. Nevertheless, the principle is applicable to all Christians. If the church is central to God’s purpose, as seen in both history and the gospel, it must surely also be central to our lives. How can we take lightly what God takes so seriously? How dare we push to the circumference what God has placed at the centre? No, we shall seek to become responsible church members, active in some local manifestation of the universal church. We shall not be able to acquiesce in low standards which fall far short of the New Testament ideals for God’s new society, whether mechanical, meaningless worship services, or fellowship which is icy cold and even spoiled by rivalries which make the Lord’s Supper a farce, or such inward-looking isolation as to turn the church into a ghetto which is indifferent to the outside world and its pain. If instead (like Paul) we keep before us the vision of God’s new society as his family, his dwelling place and his instrument in the world, then we shall constantly be seeking to make our church’s worship more authentic, its fellowship more caring and its outreach more compassionate. In other words (like Paul again), we shall be ready to pray, to work and if necessary to suffer in order to turn the vision into a reality.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
From Reggie Kidd's WITH ONE VOICE.....The Bible: A Biography of Song in the Church
In the biblical history, ironically, music begins outside the
covenantal line as God’s gift to nonbelieving Jubal.
But song
eventually comes to mark the most significant of moments in
the relationship between Israel and Yahweh, Israel’s redeeming
Lord. In fact, over the course of Old Testament history, singing
emerges as a sure gauge of Israel’s relationship to the Lord and
the progress of her redemption.
Yahweh parts the Red Sea and the children of Israel sing, play
instruments, and dance. Just before Yahweh takes them across the
River Jordan, lest they forget what is going on, Moses teaches the
Israelites a song about who is waging the upcoming campaign of
conquest. Singing gets built into the covenant relationship both
as fortification for battle and as warning against faithlessness.
The warrior-poet David is dubbed “Sweet Singer of Israel.” He
becomes both musical soul-soother to his predecessor Saul and
designer of the sound system for a temple to be built by his own
son and successor Solomon. There is a grain of truth in novelist
James Michener’s notion that, before David, Israel’s faith is more
austere and less lyrical.
With David’s songs, a God who is invisible
shows the shape he can take in the human heart. The One
whose story of redemption from sin seems abstract compared to
the Baals’ earthy guarantees of procreation and harvest becomes
more accessible. It soon becomes apparent that Israel’s whole
faith venture will take on a new flavor in the way that David has
bared his soul before God through his psalms. His songs become
the impetus for a generations-long project: hymn writers and
collectors embody Israel’s story and emotional life in the book
of Psalms.
Once the Israelites build the temple, God’s glory cloud shows
up as though in answer to the people’s chorus and orchestra. In
war, Judah sends a choir before, or rather instead of, the army,
singing, “Give thanks to the Lord, for His lovingkindness is everlasting!”
Increasingly, the prophets of the Old Covenant point
to a future in which a new and final exodus will call forth “a new
song” of deliverance and victory. As a result, in the latter stages
of Old Testament revelation, God himself claims to be the prime
Singer, exulting in his joyful victory over his people’s enemies and
quieting them in his love.
Singing continues in the New Testament. Mary’s Magnificat
sounds the overture of the New Song Symphony to the God who
keeps covenant with his people and extends his mercy to the nations.
Jesus maintains that while John the Baptist came to teach
a dirge of judgment, by contrast he (Jesus) came to lead a dance
of joy. Accordingly, the Gospel writers lace their teachings about
who Jesus is with lines from Israel’s songbook. On his way to his
arrest, Jesus pauses to sing a hymn with his disciples.
In the first of many trips to prison for telling of Jesus’s death
and resurrection, the apostle Paul sings hymns. Paul tells Christians
to fill their time together with song. In fact, his letters are so
laced with poetry, scholars are still trying to figure out whether
he composed hymns himself or whether he was so filled with
his churches’ worship that their songs thrust their way into his
writing.
In the book of Revelation, the apostle John sees the worship
that is going on in heaven. Accordingly, he challenges churches
on the earth, struggling as they are with persecution from without
and faithlessness from within, to take their bearings from
heaven’s worship, and especially from songs that trumpet the
triumph of the Lion/Lamb (Revelation 5). In anticipation of the
sweet resolution of a new heaven and a new earth, John climaxes
his book with a fourfold “Hallelujah Chorus” in triple forte at the
wedding feast of the Lamb (Rev. 21:1–2; 19:1–10).
In the biblical history, ironically, music begins outside the
covenantal line as God’s gift to nonbelieving Jubal.
But song
eventually comes to mark the most significant of moments in
the relationship between Israel and Yahweh, Israel’s redeeming
Lord. In fact, over the course of Old Testament history, singing
emerges as a sure gauge of Israel’s relationship to the Lord and
the progress of her redemption.
Yahweh parts the Red Sea and the children of Israel sing, play
instruments, and dance. Just before Yahweh takes them across the
River Jordan, lest they forget what is going on, Moses teaches the
Israelites a song about who is waging the upcoming campaign of
conquest. Singing gets built into the covenant relationship both
as fortification for battle and as warning against faithlessness.
The warrior-poet David is dubbed “Sweet Singer of Israel.” He
becomes both musical soul-soother to his predecessor Saul and
designer of the sound system for a temple to be built by his own
son and successor Solomon. There is a grain of truth in novelist
James Michener’s notion that, before David, Israel’s faith is more
austere and less lyrical.
With David’s songs, a God who is invisible
shows the shape he can take in the human heart. The One
whose story of redemption from sin seems abstract compared to
the Baals’ earthy guarantees of procreation and harvest becomes
more accessible. It soon becomes apparent that Israel’s whole
faith venture will take on a new flavor in the way that David has
bared his soul before God through his psalms. His songs become
the impetus for a generations-long project: hymn writers and
collectors embody Israel’s story and emotional life in the book
of Psalms.
Once the Israelites build the temple, God’s glory cloud shows
up as though in answer to the people’s chorus and orchestra. In
war, Judah sends a choir before, or rather instead of, the army,
singing, “Give thanks to the Lord, for His lovingkindness is everlasting!”
Increasingly, the prophets of the Old Covenant point
to a future in which a new and final exodus will call forth “a new
song” of deliverance and victory. As a result, in the latter stages
of Old Testament revelation, God himself claims to be the prime
Singer, exulting in his joyful victory over his people’s enemies and
quieting them in his love.
Singing continues in the New Testament. Mary’s Magnificat
sounds the overture of the New Song Symphony to the God who
keeps covenant with his people and extends his mercy to the nations.
Jesus maintains that while John the Baptist came to teach
a dirge of judgment, by contrast he (Jesus) came to lead a dance
of joy. Accordingly, the Gospel writers lace their teachings about
who Jesus is with lines from Israel’s songbook. On his way to his
arrest, Jesus pauses to sing a hymn with his disciples.
In the first of many trips to prison for telling of Jesus’s death
and resurrection, the apostle Paul sings hymns. Paul tells Christians
to fill their time together with song. In fact, his letters are so
laced with poetry, scholars are still trying to figure out whether
he composed hymns himself or whether he was so filled with
his churches’ worship that their songs thrust their way into his
writing.
In the book of Revelation, the apostle John sees the worship
that is going on in heaven. Accordingly, he challenges churches
on the earth, struggling as they are with persecution from without
and faithlessness from within, to take their bearings from
heaven’s worship, and especially from songs that trumpet the
triumph of the Lion/Lamb (Revelation 5). In anticipation of the
sweet resolution of a new heaven and a new earth, John climaxes
his book with a fourfold “Hallelujah Chorus” in triple forte at the
wedding feast of the Lamb (Rev. 21:1–2; 19:1–10).
Monday, August 21, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
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