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EFORMATION VOLUME 7 NUMBER 1

So what are we waiting for: Christ’s return or our escape?

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So What Are We Waiting For: Christ’s Return or Our Escape?

FEATURES 4 Eschaton or Escape? Paul’s Two Ages Vs. Plato’s Two Worlds

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Michael S. Horton Paul contrasts “flesh” and “spirit” not to separate this world of matter from some other world of apathetic bliss, but rather to distinguish this age of rebellion from the coming age of peace.

11 Finding Comfort in Eschatalogical Texts?

Christian Hope in Revelation 7 Brian Lee To understand Revelation, we must understand John’s intentions in writing it. And he aims not to stimulate speculation but to comfort the Church.

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16 Why the Early Church Finally Rejected Premillennialism Charles E. Hill Though premillennialism was once very influential, it was almost universally abandoned by the time of Augustine. How did the Church arrive at this decision to reject it?

23 Resurrection and Redemption: How Eschatology and the Gospel Relate

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DEPARTMENTS 2 In This Issue…

3 Letters 10 Quotes 15 Chart 20 Free Space 27 Preaching Christ

Richard B. Gaffin, Jr. In the resurrection of Christ, as well as in the beginnings of sanctification in believers, the age to come has already begun to appear.

30 Imagining God’s City: Narnia and the New Jerusalem 35 36 38 39 40

Radio Log Review In Print Endnotes On My Mind

Rick Ritchie Apologetics should not only engage minds but also quicken imaginations, proclaiming the Christian vision of reality to be grander than any materialistic or mystical notions of the world.

Cover: PhotoDisc

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INTHIS ISSUE…

By Michael S. Horton

Eschatology he calendar now reads “1999” and we feel obligated to comment—though we are not really sure why. First of all, this millennium doesn’t actually end until December 31, 2000 (because there wasn’t a year “0”).1 Second, the Gregorian calendar is a human convention, not some part of God’s created order.

Third and most importantly, Jesus told us that predicting the end of the world is a futile task: “Of that day and hour no one knows… .” (Matt. 24:36).

Nonetheless, as the coming year will be filled with bizarre speculation by many believers on TBN and widespread amusement in the broader culture, we judged this as useful a time as any to take a closer look at eschatology. Though most of the contributors to this issue hold to “amillennialism” (the belief that the millennium isn’t a literal 1,000 – year period, but rather the entire time between Christ’s First and Second Comings), we are spending hardly any space in the present issue contrasting amillennialism, postmillennialism, and premillennialism (in either its early Church or dispensational varieties). Similarly, we hardly even touch on sequences of events surrounding Christ’s return. (I’m fairly certain that the word “rapture” doesn’t occur once in these pages.)

But, someone will ask, then how can this be an issue about eschatology? The answer is that eschatology—the study of the “last things”—is about much more than simply some cataclysmic end of the world. In fact, we are better off understanding eschatology as a mirror of Christ and the history of redemption in him. So, regardless of whether our generation lives to see the end of this planet, we are still surely living in “the last days,” for we live after the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

There are eschatological signs all around us—but we will only grasp this if we see that eschatology is about Christ, not explosions. As Professor Gaffin argues so persuasively in his article, Christ’s resurrection is the beginning of that final harvest in which our bodies too shall be raised. The Gospel is even now being preached not only to Israel but to all the nations. The dead are being brought to life; the blind are being given sight; people are being renewed by the Holy Spirit. And the heavenly feast is breaking in on this age every Lord’s Day at the communion table. “The age to come” reaches into “this evil age” (no matter how dark and bleak) through pulpit, table, and font. So when we speak of eschatology, we must think not only of the future, but also of all that God has done and is accomplishing even now.

There is, however, still suffering in this age. Though the Kingdom is already here, it is also not yet fully here. We must be wary of both an overly realized eschatology (a theology of glory) and an insufficiently realized eschatology (a theology of the cross without the resurrection). In spite of the suffering, though, God has begun his final work. And he is faithful to finish the task. With the Heidelberg Catechism, we can draw comfort from the certainty that he will fulfill his promises to save his Church and to restore his NEXT ISSUE: good creation: “Even as I already now experience in my heart the beginning of eternal joy, so after Suffering this life I will have perfect blessedness such as no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no human heart has ever imagined: a blessedness in which to praise God eternally” (Answer 58).

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A publication of Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals Editor-in-Chief Dr. Michael S. Horton Assistant Editor Benjamin E. Sasse Production Editor Irene H. Hetherington Column Editor Brian Lee Copy Editors Ann Henderson Hart Deborah Barackman Layout and Design Lori A. Cook Proofreader Alyson S. Platt Production Assistant Kathryn Baldino Alliance Council Dr. John H. Armstrong The Rev. Alistair Begg Dr. James M. Boice Dr. W. Robert Godfrey Dr. John D. Hannah Dr. Michael S. Horton Mrs. Rosemary Jensen Dr. J. A. O. Preus Dr. R. C. Sproul Dr. Mark R. Talbot Dr. Gene E. Veith, Jr. Contributing Scholars Dr. Sinclair B. Ferguson Dr. Allen C. Guelzo Dr. D. G. Hart Dr. Carl F. H. Henry Dr. Arthur A. Just Dr. Robert Kolb The Rev. Donald Matzat Dr. John W. Montgomery Mr. John Muether Dr. Richard A. Muller Mr. Kenneth A. Myers Dr. Tom J. Nettles Dr. Leonard R. Payton Dr. Lawrence R. Rast Dr. Kim Riddlebarger Mr. Rick Ritchie Dr. Rod Rosenbladt Dr. David P. Scaer Ms. Rachel S. Stahle Dr. David F. Wells Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals © 1999 All rights reserved. The Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals exists to call the church, amidst our dying culture, to repent of its worldliness, to recover and confess the truth of God’s Word as did the Reformers, and to see that truth embodied in doctrine, worship and life. For more information, call or write us at: ALLIANCE OF CONFESSING EVANGELICALS 1716 Spruce Street, Philadelphia, PA 19103 (215) 546-3696 • ModRef@Alliance Net.org www.AllianceNet.org

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LETTER Thank you for the instr uctive issue of modernREFORMATION on revivalism (July/August). I would like to raise a question, though, about part of John Muether’s fine article on the Church, “A Sixth Sola?” In the section on “sacerdotalism,” Mr. Muether writes, “[God] works salvation in his elect, through the redemptive work of Jesus Christ, the one mediator between God and man, and the efficacious power of the Spirit working directly upon human souls.”

My question relates to the use of the word “directly.” I take this to mean the immediate work of the Spirit as opposed to a mediate work. Is this not overstating the case just a bit? Now I know that the claim of the immediate work of the spirit over against a sacerdotalism of ex opere operato has been used by Reformed thinkers such as Abraham Kuyper and the incomparable B. B. Warfield, but is this the position of Calvin and the Westminster Standards? Does this claim not undermine Calvin’s notion of instrumentality as well as the Westminster Confession’s claim that “…by the right use of this ordinance, the grace promised is not only offered, but really exhibited and conferred, by the Holy Ghost, to such (whether of age or infants) as that grace belongeth unto….” (WCF 28.6).

In other words, why could we not say that with regard to the sacraments, the thing signified ordinarily accompanies the sign? The Spirit’s work is ordinarily mediated to the individual through the ordinary means of grace such as the preaching of the Gospel and the sacraments? Surely we don’t presume upon their efficacy, but shouldn’t we expect it?

Maybe I am confusing categories, but it seems that a claim for the “immediate” work of the Spirit simply replaces a sacerdotalism with a Zwinglian rationalism that would kill any dream of an authentically sacramental Reformed theology. Please help.

— Rev. Wayne A. Larson Grace Presbyterian Church Indianapolis EDITORS’ RESPONSE We thank Rev. Larson for an important letter—for we receive far too few letters hoping for “an authentically sacramental Reformed theology.” Rev. Larson is rightly counseling us to avoid two extremes: one a sacerdotalism which takes the power of the sacraments from God’s hands, leaving them as tools to

be manipulated by men; the other a rationalism which denies the power of sacraments altogether, brashly requiring that God act apart from his appointed means.

While it is understandable how the word “directly” could be taken to mean “immediately,” thereby robbing the sacraments of their God-given power, it seems from the context that Mr. Muether is only aiming (at that point in his article) to set up an important guardrail against the other extreme. He is denying the power of priests as magical mediators, but he is not thereby denying that the sacraments are indeed, by God’s own appointment, the mediating instruments of divine grace (MR, July/August 1998, p. 24).

We believe then that this letter is a helpful clarification, and certainly one with which Muether would not disagree. The point of the article after all was that outside of the Church, “there is no ordinary possibility of salvation.” The explicitly stated corollary is that the means of grace are the “ordinary means” of salvation (p. 26). Like the correspondent, Muether is rightly laboring to steer our ship between the Scylla of sacerdotalism and the Charybdis of rationalism.

Thanks for the excellent collection of incisive and helpful articles in your recent issue on ecumenism (September/October). As I was browsing around, though, I noticed one little mistake. On your quotes page, you have a quotation that is listed as coming from Luther’s Small Catechism. While the citation is technically accurate, it may be misleading. The quote provided is not in fact Luther’s. It is from a large collection of questions and answers that our Synod has appended to Luther’s Small Catechism.

There is a long history in Lutheranism of appending questions and answers like this to Luther’s Small Catechism. I found one dating back to 1560.

Nonetheless, it is good not to confuse these questions and answers with Luther’s actual catechetical text. One of the brilliant aspects of Luther’s Small Catechism is that it is, in fact, small! A minor point, but I thought you might appreciate this observation since I know how careful you are about these kinds of things.

— Rev. Paul T. McCain Assistant to the President The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod

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Eschaton or Escape?

PAUL’S TWO AGES VS. PLATO’S TWO WORLDS MICHAEL S. HORTON catwalk. If only they could escape their chains and step out into the bright sunlight of the real world. The moral to the story: “The world of our sight is like the habitation in prison, the firelight there to the sunlight here, the ascent and the view of the upper world is the rising of the soul into the world of mind.”1

Imagine the world’s inhabitants living in an underground cave their whole lives, never having seen the out-side, necks and legs chained, only able to look at one wall in front of them.

Behind and above them is a catwalk on which figures are moving. Because of a fire at the opening of the cave, the imprisoned people can see projections of these figures on the wall in front of them. “Look, a dog!”, one exclaims.

Another shouts, “There is a man!” But, of course, they are but shadows dancing across the wall as the real dog and the real man traverse the 4

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As Western thought advanced, Plato’s dualism (i.e., his “two worlds”) created a pattern for a variety of philosophical systems. Even Augustine, who was converted from Gnostic Manichaeanism (a very dualistic form of Platonic thought), never managed to shake off Plato’s influence. Throughout the Middle Ages, the progress of the soul from this supposedly false world of appearances which we experience with our senses to the real world which we know with our rational soul, became the goal of contemplation. Just as the vision of the Beautiful itself (the eternal Idea or Form) rather than beautiful things (the temporary particulars which pass away) dominated Platonism, so for Aquinas the goal of Christian experience was the Beatific Vision.

Seeing God with the inner eye was superior to anything that could be seen with the outer eye. This inner/outer, above/below, heaven/earth, eternal/temporal, spirit or soul/body, intellect/senses dichotomy runs throughout Western thought. In fact, it’s the reason why modern theology could get along fine with a “Christ event” which had profound implications for one’s individual encounter with God while denying the historical reality of the resur rection. In Rudolf Bultmann’s memorable words, “But the ‘Christ after the flesh’ is no concern of ours.” 2 Already, during the Enlightenment, Lessing had issued his famous announce-ment that he could not get across the “ugly, broad ditch” which separated the “accidental truths of history” from the truths of reason in the matter of Christianity. Resurrections occur in space and time, leaving historical traces. But how could truths in the realm of appearance have the kind of cer tainty

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possessed by truths of reason?

Modern theology—including so-called “dialectical theolog y” (Bultmann, Bar th, Br unner)—took Christianity out of the realm of history by making it a purely existential affair in the moment of crisis and decision. In this way, it is certainly close to Plato’s “two worlds,” but far from Paul’s “two ages.”

Julius Schneiwind, a leading theologian of this century, engaged in a discussion with Bultmann on these very points, sometimes coming close to accusing the Marburg theologian of outright gnosticism in his division between historical events and the historic (i.e., individual-existential) encounter. Schneiwind responded: “The eschatology of the early Church is not just a vague belief in the transcendent or in immortality,” but a definite day of judgment toward which history is moving.

“The New Testament knows nothing of an ascent of the soul,” either individual or corporate. “Each individual is involved with the rest of mankind in the stream of human history, in the time-process, and in this present age … Such an eschatology begins with resurrection rather than with transcendence, with the day of judgement rather than with immortality.”3 Whatever Christian philosophy has made of “transcendence” and “immanence,” “above” and “below,” and the like, it is impossible to attribute the cosmological literalism to Scripture, as Bultmann wishes to do. Schneiwind adds: Hence the New Testament is right and Bultmann wrong: eschatology is ultimate history. There is a synteleia, a completion of this aeon…The eschatological wrath of God is at work already here and now. The kingdom of God has already dawned in Christ … Here we have a profound critique of our popular ideas about time, as Luther saw when he said that in the sight of God the whole history of man from Adam down to the present moment happened “as it were but yesterday.”4 This tendency to divide the world into “good” and “bad” spheres is tempting. For one thing, it keeps us from having to face up to the real dichotomy, the real antithesis, which is “righteousness” versus “unrighteousness.” In other words, we would have to say that the real source of alienation in the world and in our own lives is due to our rebellion and not to some supposed hostility between the alleged eter nal/ invisible/spiritual/unchanging realm of perfection and the temporal/visible/material/changing realm of appearances. The Gnostic myth of an innocent spirit “thrown” mercilessly into history (not to mention, into a physical body) may help us think good thoughts about

ourselves, but at the end of the day it is still that: a myth, and it doesn’t really explain anything.

Furthermore, it leaves this world to the devils. If this is just the realm of shadowy appearances, like those images on the cave’s wall which the prisoners mistook for the real thing, why not scurry off into some monastery and contemplate the Eternal? In the wake of the Enlightenment, pietism often took this route, surrendering the public realm of history, culture, politics, and life in general to others while the believer sat in a corner or with a small group of true believers and enjoyed private experiences. This was the religious world in which most liberal theologians were reared and it was the religious world which most critics of Christianity came to regard as feeble. Among the latter, Ludwig Feuerbach (1804–72) figures prominently.

Feuerbach said that Christianity is a projection of the self, and “heaven” is a projection of the self ’s longing for immortality.5 Freud would make these ideas central to his psychoanalysis.6 But no one agreed with this thesis more than Friedrich Nietzsche. Listing six stages in “the history of an error,” he describes “How the ‘Real World’ Finally Became a Fable.” First, the real world was “attainable for the wise man, the pious man, the virtuous man.” But then it was said that the real world was “unattainable for now, but promised to the wise man, the pious man, the virtuous man (‘to the sinner who repents’).” In its third stage, the fable said that the real world is “unattainable, unprovable, unpromisable, but the mere thought of it [is] a consolation, an obligation, an imperative.” Here is the Kantian stage, in which modern liberal theology developed. Eventually, the “real world” becomes totally irrelevant. Not even an obligation, the ethical residue finally evaporates and nothing is left. “The real world— we have done away with it: what world was left? The apparent one, perhaps? … But no! With the real world we have also done away with the apparent one!” 7 Elsewhere, he wrote, “I hate that overleaping of this world which occurs when one condemns this world wholesale.

Art and religion grow out of this. Oh, I understand this flight up and away into the repose of the One.”8 Much of modern secularism is due to the fact that the “other world” of Plato’s transcendence was swallowing up “this world” of historical existence. At first, Descartes sought to carve out a little space for the self free from God. This space was the res cogitans, the disembodied mind, conscious of itself through thought.

But as the gap grew wider, resentment grew as well: modern man envied the mastery of that God who existed in and for himself. Eventually, then, Nietzsche announced the arrival of the Anti-Christ and the OverMan. God is dead and now the Superman must take his rightful place of mastery over history. Feuerbach, Marx, JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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and Nietzsche had all called Christianity “Platonism for the masses,” and now at last they had exposed the “true world” as false. Without this “true world” as the measure of “this world’s” truth or falsehood, “this world” died as well. In other words, this world can no longer be seen as a representation or projection of a pure heavenly realm if the latter does not really exist after all. John Lennon’s song Imagine expresses well the eschatology of a post-Nietzschean age.

In the brief space we have here, I would like to put Plato and Paul in the ring together, to see the ways in which the Apostle to the Gentiles tur ns Greek philosophy on its head by using its own vocabulary in a remarkably subversive way. The goal will be to see how Paul’s eschatology can reshape our thinking in an age of false dualisms and how it can offer a fresh alter native to both Platonism (modernity) and the postmoder n announcement that there is no God, no self, and no such thing as history or meaning.

masses.” Sure, he uses spirit-flesh terminology. But instead of it being an ontological opposition between “that which is spiritual” and “that which is physical,” it is the Holy Spirit set in opposition to humanity in its fallen condition. Against the Greek ontological dualism, the New Testament sets its own eschatological dualism. In other words, the antithesis is not between different aspects of God’s creation, but between the totality of God’s creation as it is under the dominion of sin and the totality of God’s creation as it is under the dominion of righteousness. So, Paul’s list of dualisms includes the following: Adam vs. Christ, Old Aeon (“this present evil age”) vs. New Aeon (“the age to come”), death vs. resur rection, law/bondage vs. gospel/liber ty, futility/decay vs. hope/ renewal, lawlessness (“fruit of the flesh”) vs. righteousness (“fruit of the Spirit”), judgment/ wrath vs. justification/ adoption, vision/ demand for signs vs. voice (preaching)/faith in promise, covenant of works (Adam, Moses) vs. covenant of grace (Abraham, Jesus). But these are not unrelated, fragmented alternatives to the ontological dualisms. They are all united by a common eschatological theme and are all divided under the heading of “in Adam” versus “in Christ.” Because of his death and resurrection, Jesus (“the firstfruits”) has ushered in “the age to come,” and as this promised consummation invades the present reality of death and despair, it continues the resurrection-work by beginning from the inside (i.e., the regeneration of the “inner man”) out (i.e., the final resurrection of the body).

First, we need to be reminded that this “Pauline eschatology” does not originate with Paul. It is foreshadowed in the Pentateuch and historical books, anticipated by the prophets, and announced by Jesus.

Those who forsake all for the kingdom “receive a hundredfold now in this age … .and in the age to come eternal life” (Mark 10:30). Jesus speaks of judgment “at the end of the age” (Matt. 13:40) and refers to those who will not be forgiven “either in this age or in the age to come” (Matt. 12:32). He distinguishes between “those who belong to this age” and those who have “a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead….” (Luke

Paul is not calling us

to transcend our earthly existence and become obsessed with contemplating heaven in general, the spiritual in general, the eternal in general, or transcendence in general.

Paul’s Two-Age Model The first thing that is striking about Paul’s eschatology is that he does not invent new terminology for it. He picks up the existing vocabulary in Greek culture and then uses it in highly subversive ways.

He will use spirit/flesh, above/below, heavenly/earthly terminology, but with an entirely different meaning than its typical usage. In Greek thought, as we have seen briefly, such “dualisms” (making two things opposites) are generally ontological. That is, they are concerned with the essence or substance. An adopted father or mother may be a parent in as full a sense as a birth parent, but only the latter is a parent of the child ontologically and not just legally and experientially. The Greeks were very interested in the “being” or essence of everything. So, especially in Plato’s thought, eternity is not just distinguished from time, but is opposed to it. The soul must transcend the body and the realm of the senses to attain union with the eternal One. Things change in the temporal realm of history and appearances, but things are permanent in the eternal realm of the spirit above. This super-spirituality, this mysticism, is precisely what came to identify modern Christianity (as it had much of medieval religion).

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20:34-5). In fact, the latter are “children of the resurrection” who can never again die (v. 37). He refers to “the children of this age” and “the children of light” (Luke 16:8), and teaches that “the harvest is the end of the age” (Matt. 13:39-40). The disciples themselves asked Jesus to reveal “the sign of your coming and of the end of the age,” which Jesus explained in terms of the arrival of false messiahs (Matt. 24:3-5). The writer to the Hebrews reminds readers that through the ministry of Word and Sacrament, they have “been enlightened, and have tasted the heavenly gift, and have shared in the Holy Spirit, and have tasted the goodness of the Word of God and the powers of the age to come” (Heb. 6:4-5).

But this two-age model actually becomes the structure of Paul’s thought. The two ages are repeatedly invoked, even when they are not always set in intrinsic opposition (1 Cor. 1:20-2:8; Eph. 1:21; 2:2-7; 2 Tim. 4:10; Tit. 2:12-13). Satan is “the god of this world,” not in any Gnostic sense (i.e., author or ruler of physical creation), but inasmuch as he is the serpent in God’s garden who corrupts Adam and his progeny. “World” here is not kosmos, the usual term for “world,” but “aion,” usually translated “age.” Do you see how he turns these old Greek dualisms on their head? By using their older categories and then replacing them with eschatological rather than ontological content, he radically subverts pagan dualism. Election is something which “God decreed before the ages” (1 Cor. 2:8), but is executed “in this present age,” and will be consummated “in the age to come” (Eph. 1:21).

It becomes clear that this two-age model is concerned not with two worlds or realms, but with two ages, one inferior to the other not for any ontological reasons but for ethical-eschatological ones. One age is characterized by rebellion against God’s reign, the other

by God’s universal shalom. That which happens in the present is not simply for that reason (i.e., being “present”) evil, for God’s providence or common grace is actively upholding all things and restraining evil. And the powers of this age do not have the last say: God, by his Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead and was then poured out on the rest of Jesus’ body, is raising those spiritually dead to life and is seating them with Christ in heavenly places. It is clear that Paul is describing believers here and now, prior to their death. Their being seated with Christ in heavenly places, then, is not ontological (i.e., rescuing them from the created world— Plato’s realm of appearances), but eschatological (i.e., rescuing them from the powers of darkness and arraying them in Christ’s righteousness).

But this is not merely an individual reality. In other words, the eschatological category transcends the preoccupation with an individual experience of

conversion. Salvation has appeared in Christ: that is why “all things are made new.” This usually gets translated into purely individual, mystical categories, as if Paul had in mind nothing more than making me new inwardly. But, as theologian Herman Ridderbos notes, the Spirit-flesh contrast is not to be seen “first and foremost as an individual experience, not even in the first place as an individual reversal, but as a new way of existence which became present time with the coming of Christ. Thus, Paul can say in Romans 8:9, ‘But ye are not in the flesh but in the Spirit.’ This being in the Spirit is not a mystical, but an eschatological, redemptive-historical category.”9 He is doing this now, not just at the end of the age. In the resurrection of Christ, the age to come has dawned in “these last days.”

It is not “this world” of matter, transience, contingency, etc., that is set against “the other world” of pure eternal spirit and apathetic bliss, but “this world-age” of sin, injustice, and judgment in opposition to “the age to come” in which righteousness dwells forever.

We see this pattern clearly, for instance, in Romans 8.

In verses 1-25 alone, we find much of that list I offered above (viz., the dualisms of Pauline eschatology). “In Christ” there is “no condemnation,” since the era of the Spirit of Christ (“life in Christ”) “has set you free from the law of sin and death.” The Law, because of the weakness of our sinful hearts, could not save, but God has done this by sending his Son (vv. 5-8). Because of this, “the sufferings of this present age”—which are hardly dismissed by some false optimism—“are not worthy of being compared with the glory about to be revealed to us” (v. 18). And what is that glory? Escape from this world to the realm of eternal spirit? Nothing could be further from Paul’s mind, since he identifies that “glory about to be revealed to us” as the resurrection of our bodies. But that is not all! Included in our physical restoration will be the resurrection of the entire creation. While Platonism and its sundry offspring (gnosticism, modern existentialism, etc.) have sought to locate the sense of human alienation from the natural world in the ontological inferiority of the body to the soul (and therefore sought to escape from history), Paul locates the alienation in human rebellion. In fact, it is not even nature’s fault, he insists in very clear terms (vv. 19-20). Instead of nature enslaving the human self, it’s the other way around!

But God’s resurrection-consummation will be so thorough that the physical world will share in the resurrection of the Church on the last day. Because of this we hope, despite our present sufferings (vv. 24-25).

It is not a resignation to the present condition of the world or our own sinfulness, or our suffering; nor is it a false triumphalism about the future. Rather, it is a certain hope based on the fact of Christ’s resurrection.

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work for this fallen world; it began that saving work. This is why Paul uses the organic metaphor of a harvest, with Jesus as the “firstfruits.” His resurrection is not separate from that of the whole people of God, but is the beginning of that cosmic renewal. Concerning 2 Corinthians 4:16, where Paul speaks of the outer man decaying while the inner man is being renewed daily (cf.

Rom. 7:22; Eph. 3:16), Westminster Seminary theologian Richard Gaffin writes, “In effect, then, Paul is saying: the resurrection of the inner man is past; the resurrection of the outer man is still future (cf. v. 14).

This should not be understood, however, in the sense of an anthropological dualism. Rather, the dual aspect of the whole man is in view.”10 The dualism, once more, is eschatological rather than ontological, since the whole person lives “in Christ,” “in the Spirit,” dominated by the age to come, and yet is still present in “this evil age” which once was the believer’s habitat.

It is in a similar context that Paul says, “Old things are passed away; behold, they are become new” (2 Cor. 5:17). It is because the Messiah has come, not because an individual has had an experience, that everything is new: the future (i.e., “the age to come”) has dawned in Christ. This is what is meant by his “appearing,” his “revelation.” He is the turning-point in human and cosmic history. Jesus Christ is “the new thing,” the new reality which has burst on the scene. As Ridderbos says, the manifestation of Jesus “in these last days” is “not, in the first place, made known as a noetic [intellectual] piece of information, but has appeared as an historical event.”11 So What Are We Waiting For? So far, we have seen that Paul’s use of traditional terms in Greek dualism (Spirit/flesh, heavenly/earthly, invisible/visible, above/below) is very nontraditional: he eschatologizes and “Christologizes” them until they are no longer ontological oppositions. Contrary to what many of us were raised to believe, the Spirit/flesh antithesis, for instance, is not the war between one’s spirit/soul (connected to the eternal realm, the “true world” of Plato) and the physical body (bound to the realm of fading shadows, the “apparent world”). Paul is not calling us to transcend our earthly existence and become obsessed with contemplating heaven in general, the spiritual in general, the eternal in general, or transcendence in general. He is not even calling us to contemplate God in general. Rather, he is urging us to raise our attention above the temporary (not “the temporal” as opposed to “the eternal”) state of things in this age (viz., in rebellion and decay) to the permanent condition of things in the age to come (viz., restoration in Christ). It is God’s mercy, which he has minted in the form of promises—those gold coins bearing the visage of Jesus 8

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Christ—which contrasts setting our minds on “things above” as opposed to setting our sights low, gazing at our own miserable performance and our own “felt needs.”

In the light of this, that contrast appears between what theologians call the “already” and the “not-yet.”

As we have seen, this tension pulsates throughout Paul’s thought, as we see especially in Romans 8. In Romans 6 and 7, Paul had already made the point that we have been baptized into the new world of which Jesus is the sun. This has brought real renewal, so that we cannot live in sin. We are “in the Spirit” and are no longer “in the flesh,” in the light rather than darkness, in Christ rather than Adam. Our definitive sanctification (i.e., our being declared holy and set apart by God once and for all) is the basis for our progressive sanctification. But then the reality of indwelling sin hits us in the middle of our celebration over the reality of the new birth.

Chapter seven is dedicated to unveiling this sad fact in familiar detail. When we get to chapter eight, the Apostle has broadened the scope to include the entire creation and the cosmic dimensions of regenerationresurrection. Living in “these last days” should determine our stance: “Put on Christ,” Paul says. “And do this, knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep; for now our salvation is nearer than when we first believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand. Therefore let us cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light” (Rom. 13:11-14).

Everything that we see right now tells us that decay is normal, sin is “only human,” evil is “the way things are,” and death is natural. But none of this is true.

Decay, evil, and death are all ultimately due to the bondage into which the first man and his descendants have plunged the human race because of willful disobedience. Just as “the new creation” is not to be understood first and foremost in an individualistic sense, but as the eschatological turning point for the whole created order which began with the resurrection, so our own rebirth of the inner man (i.e., regeneration) is linked to the rebirth of not only our own outer man (i.e., bodily resurrection), but to the new world. Thus, things that have been separated in our thinking can no longer be divorced, much less set in opposition: the cross and resurrection, atonement and regeneration, justification and sanctification, soul and body, heaven and earth, individual and corporate, even human and nonhuman. Not even can a “Time versus Eternity” dualism remain as Platonic residue within Christianity.

As biblical theologian Geerhardus Vos observes, while God transcends time, “Paul nowhere affirms that to the life of man after the close of this aeon, no more duration, no more divisibility in time-units shall exist.”

That would constitute the deification of the inhabitants of the future aeon.12 MODERN REFORMATION

For Paul, there is no escape from the historical drama—into the past, present, future, eternity, or any other “beyond,” including heaven. The vertical and horizontal planes meet in promise and then ontologically in the very person of Jesus Christ. He incarnates “the age to come” and brings it with him, beginning with his resurrection as “the firstfruits” until he has finally completed the work of salvation when he comes again. We are not waiting for “the great escape,” but for “the great return”—the coming again of the God-Man who will finish what he started. Just as this future glorification of believers has implications for our individual g rowth in Christian maturity (Paul’s indicatives driving the imperatives), so this future cosmic restoration, when not only believers but “the whole earth will be full of his glory,” should drive our concern for and involvement in the world during “this present evil age.” Just as our own small gains in holiness in this life do not relieve us of the responsibility of constantly striving for that which is up ahead, our contributions to the justice, goodness, and beauty of creation may not, for their meagerness, be considered unimportant to the Alpha-Creator and Omega-Consummator who has brought us out of darkness into his marvelous light. MR Dr. Michael S. Horton is associate professor of historical theology at Westminster Theological Seminary in California, and serves on the council of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals.

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QUOTES “Jesus said, ‘My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jews. But now my kingdom is from another place.’” — John 18:36 “Preaching is a proclamation that the kingdom has come. As at creation the Word actually brings to pass the decisive event of which it speaks.”

— Stephen Clark, The Wallace Presbyterian Church Lecture Series, Hyattsville, Maryland, April 2, 1997.

“The preaching of the gospel is called the kingdom of heaven, and the sacraments may be called the gate of heaven, because they admit us into the presence of God.” — John Calvin, Commentary on Genesis, II.118.

“Not only justification from the guilt of sin, but also deliverance from the power of sin, renewal, sanctification, faith, are for Paul above all ‘eschatological’ realities, which demand to be understood as revelation of the new aeon that has appeared with Christ’s advent and work. The work of the Holy Spirit, too, stands entirely under this sign. The Spirit as the Spirit of Christ is the Spirit of the new aeon, and all that he renews, re-creates, changes, is new and different because it pertains to this eschatological ‘newness.’”

— Herman Ridderbos, Paul: An Outline of His Theology, 205.

“From the very start it was clear to Luther that Jesus’ prophecy of the Last Days fully applied to the situation of the Church in his time. With Bernard’s warnings in mind he concluded already in 1514: ‘The way I see it, the Gospel of St. Matthew counts such perversions as the sale of indulgences among the signs of the Last Days.’”

— Heiko Oberman, Luther: Man Between God and the Devil, 70-71.

“Amillennialists believe that the kingdom of God was founded by Christ at the time of his sojourn on earth, is 10

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operative in history now and is destined to be revealed in its fullness in the life to come. They understand the kingdom of God to be the reign of God dynamically active in human history through Jesus Christ. Its purpose is to redeem God’s people from sin and from demonic powers, and finally to establish the new heavens and the new earth. The kingdom of God means nothing less than the reign of God in Christ over his entire created universe. The kingdom of God is therefore both a present reality and a future hope.”

— Anthony Hoekema, in Robert G. Clouse, The Meaning of the Millennium: Four Views, 178.

“Table fellowship is one of the means by which the evangelist proclaims the arrival of the eschatological kingdom, the dawn of a new era.”

— Arthur A. Just, “Feeding the World,” MR, May/June 1997, 17.

“The reader who understands ‘eschatology’ in its conventional, still popular sense will expect [in this book on eschatology] a specialized study limited to those ‘last things’ associated with the second coming of Christ. [Geerhardus Vos], however, intends something more. His basic thesis is that to unfold Paul’s eschatology is to set forth his theology as a whole, not just his teaching on Christ’s return.”

— Richard Gaffin, introduction to Geerhardus Vos’ The Pauline Theology.

“Come, for creation groans, Impatient of Thy stay, Worn out with these long years of ill, These ages of delay.

Come and make all things new; Build up this ruined earth; Restore our faded Paradise, Creation’s second birth.”

— Horatius Bonar, Prayer for God’s Presence.

MODERN REFORMATION

Finding Comfort in Eschatalogical Texts?

CHRISTIAN HOPE IN REVELATION 7 BRIAN LEE The net result is a Christian story of “Armageddon” as pagan as last summer’s big screen hit, with the impending return of Christ about as comforting and meaningful as a meteorite hurtling toward earth.

Indeed, the terror of the panicked crowds in that film recall my terror as a youth, watching a Christian film dramatizing the “rapture.” Would I make it or not? Even if I did, what about my family and friends?

There is however an alternative.

From Genesis to Revelation eschatology is portrayed as the consummate fulfillment of God’s promises in history, with the New Testament emphasizing that the central promise has already been fulfilled in the death and resurrection of Christ. Therefore, eschatology is not distinct from, but thoroughly involved with God’s Gospel promise to save.

The “Good News” is eschatological news: “The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). There can be no Gospel without eschatology, and there can be no eschatology without Gospel.

When these central truths are understood, the manner in which the Church reads and preaches the explicitly eschatological texts of the New Testament is radically transformed.

We no longer allow ourselves to be confused by the questions these texts raise.1 Rather, we are comforted by the certainties they hold forth. This transformation can be illustrated by the following reading of Revelation 7.

Corey Wilkinson, scratchboard

Does your eschatology provide you with Christian comfor t? One of the tragic effects of dispensationalism on American Christianity has been a speculative spirit with regard to the last things.

While the New Testament authors recognized that they were living in the last days and that the consummation of history had already begun in the cross of Christ, dispensationalism has sought that consummation elsewhere. It has looked almost completely to the future and away from the cross. The Apostles saw themselves in the midst of a present eschatological drama, but dispensationalism has sought apocalyptic drama outside the text of the New Testament, ever around the next historical corner. The clarity and comfort of New Testament eschatology has been transformed into confusion and fear by a speculative hermeneutic which insists on reading the text in our context, instead of its own.

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It will show that the Apostle John, rather than providing a road map for future speculation, is comforting the people of God by portraying the certain, present reality enjoyed by the Church, both on earth and in heaven.

The Divine Presence Revealed Revelation 7 serves as an interlude, of sorts. In chapters 4 and 5, John is brought up into the divine council-chamber, where he describes its chief and central glory: the slain Lamb. Because the Lamb was slain, he alone is worthy to break the seals on the scroll, which in chapter 6 unleashes the consummation of his glory.

There we see that the rider of the white horse has gone out “conquering, and to conquer” (6:2), and the other horsemen have likewise gone forth bringing war, famine, pestilence, and death. Between seals six and seven is the vision of Revelation 7, comprising both the sealing of the 144,000 and the image of the great multitude before the throne.

The immediate backdrop of this interlude is the sixth seal, which unleashes the cataclysmic overturning of the natural order, usually associated in Scripture with the Day of the Lord: “…and there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth made of hair, and the whole moon became like blood … and every mountain and island were moved out of their place” (Rev. 6:12-14; cf. Is. 13:10, 50:3; Zech. 14:3-8).

This is no mere natural disaster. This is the revelation of the righteous judgment of God, as even the unbelieving kings of the earth discern. “Fall on us and hide us from the presence of him who sits on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb” (6:16). The theophanic glory of the throne room reality in chapters 4 and 5 begins to intrude on the created order below.

Judgment and wrath, long delayed, are now poured out.

It is understandable how an eschatology of fear could arise from such a text! The Day of the Lord rightly holds nothing but terror for many. But we err greatly if we fail to understand that those terrified are unbelievers.

Further, the text clearly states that even they know the source of their terror—the divine presence and the Lamb’s wrath. The following interlude directly addresses how the Church is comforted—not terrified!—by the appearance of the living God. It answers the rhetorical question, “And who is able to stand?” The Church’s comfort has always been secured by the turning away of the Lamb’s wrath; her blessing has always been expressed by the dwelling of the divine presence in her midst; and her hope has always been the final judgment of her enemies (Rom. 5:9, Ex. 33:15-16, Psalms 2 and 7).

No Wrath for the 144,000 The first image in chapter 7 shows four angels holding back the four winds so that nothing on the earth can be 12

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harmed. A fifth angel rising from the east has the seal of the living God, and cries out to the other four, “Do not harm the earth … until we have sealed the bond-servants of our God on their foreheads.” This angel proceeds to number the 144,000 sealed bond-servants: twelve thousand from each of the twelve tribes of Israel.

Enter speculation. One popular reading of this text is that the 144,000 refers to a literal group of ethnic Jews, distinct from the Church and distinct from the “great multitude” that follows in verses 9-17.2 This surely seems to be warranted by their description as “sealed from every tribe of the sons of Israel,” not to mention the clear listing of each and every tribe by name. But, since scriptural authors often describe the Church using Old Testament language for Israel (Rom. 9:24-26; 11:5, I Pet. 2:9-10, Rev. 1:6), it is not enough simply to point to the word “Israel” in the text. One must understand in what sense “Israel” is used.

This task becomes somewhat easier because we meet up with 144,000 bond-servants once again in chapter 14. This time they are standing with the Lamb on Mount Zion and have “His name and the name of His Father written on their foreheads” (14:1). Unless John is seeking to confuse us, it is not likely that this is a different 144,000! On the contrary, the link is intentional. John includes details to remind us of their prior appearance, in order to expand information about them. In this chapter we learn that the 144,000 alone are able to sing the new song before the throne, because they have been purchased from the earth.

This information alone should convince us that the 144,000 are not a group of ethnic Jews distinct from the Church. They are linked universally and exclusively to the atonement. Moreover, chapter 14 further connects the 144,000 with at least three different descriptions of the Church in Revelation: 1) Rev. 5:9 where we are told the Lamb purchased people “from every tribe and tongue and people and nation”; 2) The great multitude in 7:9-17 which is likewise drawn “from every nation and tribe and people and tongue” and is worshiping before the throne of God and the Lamb; and 3) Rev. 22:3 where “His bond-servants” (indisputably the universal Church in glory) worship before the throne of God and the Lamb, having his name on their foreheads. Given the relevant data, it is clear that the Apostle is describing the Church itself as the New Israel, the fulfillment of Old Testament typology. This is literally what John tells us!

Why does John employ this particular image here?

The image is one of census-taking, reminiscent of the numbering of Israel in the wilderness. In Numbers 1, the Lord commands Moses to take a census of “all the congregation of the sons of Israel,” counting every male from twenty years old and upward who is able to go out MODERN REFORMATION

to war in Israel. The tribes were then numbered “by their armies,” and in chapter 2 we are told where each numbered army camped under their own standard: north, south, east, and west, “around the tent of meeting at a distance.” Revelation 7 thus presents a picture of the whole congregation of the Lord, arrayed in military style and prepared for battle.

Central to the account in Numbers 1-2 is the role of the Levites, who are not counted among the Lord’s armies, but who rather are appointed “over the tabernacle of the testimony, and over all its furnishings, and over all that belongs to it” (Num. 1:50).3 As such, they are not a part of the Army of the Lord, but their ministry serves another, more important, function. “But the Levites shall camp around the tabernacle of the testimony, that there may be no wrath on the congregation of the sons of Israel” (Num. 1:53).

Israel was not to fear the divine presence in their midst, or the wrath of God, as long as the Levites interposed the blood of goats and bulls on their behalf.

Thus, in Revelation 7 John is not informing his readers of some future Jewish converts— note the indeterminate, speculative, and future referent this implies. Rather, he is describing the Church itself, his very audience. He is comforting them in the midst of present and coming judgment. Not only is the New Israel protected from the wrath of God by the blood of the Eschatological Lamb (5:9), they themselves have become a means of carrying out judgment as a holy army. Just as the armies of Israel carried out God’s judgment on apostate Canaan of old, so the final judgment will be wrought through the faithful testimony and martyrdom of the Church militant. The faithful have nothing to fear; rather it is their ministry of Word and Sacrament that strikes fear in the hearts of unbelievers.4

These are the ones who come out of the great tribulation, and they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

For this reason, they are before the throne of God; and they serve Him day and night in His temple; and He who sits on the throne shall spread His tabernacle over them (7:14-15).

This multitude is an image of the universal Church in glory, representing the same people who were purchased by the blood of the Lamb “from every tribe and tongue and people and nation.” Also, the content of the worship around the throne bears many of the same elements of that in chapters 4 and 5, as well as parallels in many other places in Revelation.5 If we conclude that both the 144,000 and the great multitude represent the Church, we must explain John’s many stark contrasts: the numbered 144,000 vs. the innumerable multitude; the twelve tribes vs. all tribes; and a terrestrial vs. a heavenly setting.

The answer lies in the common origin of the imagery in the whole chapter: Israel’s historical exodus from Egypt, wilderness wandering, and ultimate conquest of the Promised Land. For John, Israel’s history foreshadows the Church’s eschatological reality. The Church’s experience now can be explained and understood as the fulfillment of Israel’s sacred history.

Thus, the great multitude are those who have “come out of the great tribulation,” which is the same language used by the Greek Old Testament to describe Israel in Exodus 3:17. Also, the garment washing (7:14) reminds us of the Lord’s command that Israel wash their robes before meeting him at Sinai (Ex. 19:10-14). The wilderness tabernacle has now become the temple.

Instead of camping around the tent of meeting, he who sits on the throne spreads his tabernacle over them all (7:15)! The blessings of the redeemed are described in the same language that Isaiah (49:10) used to describe the wilderness provision of the Lord: “They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; neither shall the sun beat down on them, nor any heat; for the Lamb in the center of the throne shall be their shepherd, and shall guide them to springs of the water of life” (Rev. 7:17).

Thus, as 7:1-8 depicts the army of the Lord marching through the wilderness to enter the Promised Land, 7:9-17 portrays the Exodus fulfillment of the

Eschatology is not

distinct from, but thoroughly involved with God’s Gospel promise to save.

The Great Multitude Next John sees a “great multitude from every nation and tribe and people and tongue.” But palm branches and white robes have replaced the military array of verses 18. The angels and servants of the Lord are no longer carrying out the Lord’s military will on the earth, but are worshiping before the heavenly throne. Indeed, an elder tells John distinctly that those in the white robes have been transported out of the conflagration below:

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entry into the eternal rest of the Promised Land inheritance (Heb. 4). The divine presence (literally, “face”), from which the kings of the earth hide, has become the eternal blessed vision of the children of God, “And they shall see His face” (Rev. 22:4).

Throughout, the Lamb is the focus of this account of the Church in glory. It is him whom they worship, it is his blood which has washed their robes clean, and he is the Shepherd who guides them to springs of living water.

His blood is for them; his wrath is not. Therefore, his coming brings them no terror, only great joy.

comfort to the righteous and elect, since their total redemption will then be accomplished.

They will then receive the fruits of their labor and of the trouble they have suffered; their innocence will be openly recognized by all; and they will see the terrible vengeance that God will bring on the evil ones who tyrannized, oppressed, and tormented them in this world (Belgic Confession, Article XXXVII). MR

Church Militant, Church Triumphant Does your eschatology provide you with Christian comfort? If it does not, then it is not the eschatology of the New Testament. For in the New Testament we find ourselves in the text, sealed unto eternal life by the blood of the Lamb. We are the Army of the Lord, the New Israel, protected from the blasts of all tribulation by the power of the living God. Though we may suffer as martyrs, the first death holds no terror, only added glory. We do not fear the present revelation of the righteous judgment of God, rather we recognize its revelation in our midst through Word and Sacrament, and eagerly anticipate its consummation. This is the blessed comfort of the Church Militant, the saints on earth awaiting the return of their Lord and Savior, when they will finally be vindicated for all the world to see.

Even the vision of the Church Triumphant, gathered about the throne in worship, is not a foreign reality to us. For though the last enemy has not yet been abolished, Paul tells us that we are already seated in the heavenlies with Christ (Eph. 2:6). Because we already have been washed with the blood of the Lamb, we know that we will soon be before the throne of God, as those who have gone before us presently are. Indeed, the firstfruits of this blessing have appeared in the risen Christ.

We have a foretaste of the bounty of the marriage feast of the Lamb every time we receive communion. Even our future blessings are a present comfort!

Revelation 7 is typical of New Testament eschatology, basing our future comfort squarely upon the completed work of the slain Lamb. “Having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from the wrath of God through Him” (Rom. 5:9). With the Psalmist and with our confessions, we eagerly await the final judgment of God: “Arise, O Lord, in Thine anger.

Lift up Thyself against the rage of my adversaries, and arouse Thyself for me; Thou has appointed judgment” (Psalm 7:2).

Mr. Brian Lee (M.A.R., Westminster Theological Seminary in California) is a Ph.D. candidate in historical theology at Calvin Theological Seminary and the editor of the new column “Preaching Christ” in MR.

Therefore, with good reason the thought of this judgment is horrible and dreadful to wicked and evil people. But it is very pleasant and a great 14

JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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MODERN REFORMATION

A COMPARISON OF HISTORIC COVENANT AND HISTORIC DISPENSATIONAL THEOLOGY ISSUE

COVENANT POSITION

DISPENSATIONAL POSITION

PATTERN OF HISTORY

Covenant of Works with Adam; Covenant of Grace with Christ on behalf of elect (some distinguish between Covenant of Redemption with Christ and Covenant of Grace with the elect).

Divided into dispensations (usually seven); e.g., Innocence (pre-Fall), Conscience (Adam), Human Government (Noah), Promise (Abraham), Law (Moses), Grace (Christ’s First Coming), Kingdom (Christ’s Second Coming).

VIEW OF HISTORY

Optimistic; God is extending His kingdom.

Pessimistic: the Last Days are marked by increasingly worse wickedness in the world and by apostasy in the church.

GOD’S PURPOSE IN HISTORY

There is a unified redemptive purpose.

There are two distinct purposes, one earthly (Israel), one heavenly (church).

VIEW OF THE BIBLICAL COVENANTS

They are different administrations of the Covenant of Grace.

They mark off periods of time during which God’s specific demands of man differ.

RELATIONSHIP OF OLD TESTAMENT TO NEW TESTAMENT

Acceptance of Old Testament teaching required unless specifically abrogated by New Testament.

Old Testament prescriptions are not binding unless reaffirmed in New Testament.

RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ISRAEL AND THE CHURCH

The Church is spiritual Israel, in continuity with true Israel of Old Testament.

The Church is the spiritual people of God, distinct from Israel, the physical people of God.

OLD TESTAMENT PROPHECY

Refers to God’s people, the Church.

Refers to ethnic Israel.

CHURCH AGE

God’s redemptive purpose continues to unfold.

There is a parenthesis between past and future manifestations of the kingdom.

ROLE OF HOLY SPIRIT

The Holy Spirit indwells God’s people throughout history.

The Holy Spirit indwells God’s people only from Pentecost to the Rapture.

BAPTISM

Unified covenant generally used to support infant baptism.

Israel/Church distinction often (but not always) used to support believers’ baptism.

SOCIAL IMPLICATIONS

Emphasizes “cultural mandate.”

The only way to save the world is to save individuals; therefore evangelism takes precedence over “social action.”

ESCHATOLOGY

Usually amillennial; rarely postmillenial; occasionally premillennial.

Premillennial, usually pretribulational.

MILLENNIUM

Symbolic, often identified with present age.

Literal, earthly 1000-year reign after Second Coming.

Taken from “Chronological & Background Charts of Church History” by Robert Walton. Copyright © 1986 by The Zondervan Corporation.

Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House (www.zondervan.com). Available at your local bookstore or by calling 800-727-3480.

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Why the Early Church Finally Rejected Premillennialism CHARLES E. HILL • BEGINNING OF THE END • 2001: ON THE EDGE OF ETERNITY • 2000 A.D. ARE YOU READY • 3 CRUCIAL QUESIONS ABOUT

Chiliasm 1 is the ancient name for what today is known as premillennialism, the belief that when Jesus Christ returns he will not execute the last judgment at once, but will first set up on earth a temporary kingdom, where resurrected saints will r ule with him over nonresur rected subjects for a thousand years of peace and righteousness. To say that the Church “rejected chiliasm” may sound bizar re today, when premillennialism is the best known eschatology in Evangelicalism. Having attached itself to fundamentalism, chiliasm in its dispensationalist form has been vigorously preached in pulpits, taught in Bible colleges and seminaries, and successfully promoted to the masses through study Bibles, books, pamphlets, charts, and a host of radio and television ministries. To many Christians today, premillennialism is the very mark of Christian orthodoxy. But there was a period of well over a “millennium” (over half of the Church’s history), from at least the early fifth century

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until the sixteenth, when chiliasm was dormant and practically non-existent. Even through the Reformation and much of the post-Reformation period, advocates of chiliasm were usually found among fringe groups like the Münsterites. The Augsburg Confession went out of its way to condemn chiliasm (Art. XVII, “Of Christ’s Return to Judgment”), and John Calvin criticized “the chiliasts, who limited the reign of Christ to a thousand years” (Institutes 3.25.5). It was not until the nineteenth century that chiliasm made a respectable comeback, as a favorite doctrine of Christian teachers who were promoting revival in the face of the deadening effects of encroaching liberalism.

But how are we to view the Church’s earliest period up until the first decisive rejection of chiliasm in the Church? By most accounts this was the heyday of chiliastic belief in the Church.

Many moder n apologists for premillennialism allege that before the time of Augustine chiliasm was the dominant, if not the “universal” eschatology of the Church, preserving the faith of the apostles.2 Some form of chiliasm MODERN REFORMATION

was certainly defended by such notable names as Justin Martyr and Irenaeus of Lyons in the second century and Tertullian of Carthage in the third. How and why then did this view finally fall into disrepute?

The answer given by modern premillennial apologists usually suggests that premillennialism was overcome for illegitimate reasons. They cite the rise of an unbiblical and dangerous allegorical hermeneutic (by such as Clement of Alexandria and Origen) which took a sad toll on sound biblical exegesis. They explain that the prophetic excesses of the Montanists gave chiliasm a bad name. They note that the peace of Constantine led the Church to the false belief that the millennium had already arrived. And, finally, they suggest that the authoritative repudiation of chiliasm by Augustine, who formerly had held such a belief, “put the nails in the coffin” of premillennialism.

But are these the real factors?

The hermeneutical question is indeed an important one, but to put the debate in terms of literal against allegorical is overly simplistic. Both sides used literal exegesis and both used allegorical exegesis when they deemed it best. For example, despite Origen’s intentional use of the allegorical method, his essential critique of chiliasm had real theological and traditional motivations. These motivations were not his alone but belonged to large segments of the Church. The early Montanists, it turns out, were not chiliasts and were never criticized for being so.3 Tertullian, who became a Montanist, did not get his chiliasm from them, but from Irenaeus. There is no evidence that chiliasm was hurt by any association with Montanism. By the time Constantine proclaimed Christianity the state religion in the fourth century, a non-chiliastic eschatology was surely the norm in most places, and in many it had been so ever since Christianity had arrived there. Many signs thus tell us that even without the aid of Augustine, chiliasm was probably in its death-throes by the time he wrote the last books of The City of God in A.D. 420–26.

So why did the Church reject chiliasm? As with most historical questions, the answers are complex and have social as well as hermeneutical and theological aspects. It would take a long time to compare and evaluate the exegesis of individual biblical passages by a number of given authors. One common criticism, however, can serve as a convenient organizer for what are probably the most important factors in chiliasm’s demise. That common criticism, known from Origen to the Augsburg Confession and beyond, is that chiliasm is a “Jewish” er ror. 4 This criticism is open to grave misunderstanding today if one views it as part of the Church’s shameful legacy of anti-Semitism. But this is not what lay at the base of such criticism of chiliasm as “Jewish.” Jesus was a Jew, as were all of his apostles.

“Salvation is of the Jews,” Jesus said, and all the Church

fathers knew and agreed with this. There is no embarrassment at all in something being “Jewish” and the ancient and honorable tradition of the Jews, in monotheism, morals, and the safeguarding of Holy Scripture, is something Christian leaders always prized.

Another modern misunderstanding of this criticism must also be avoided. Certain current forms of premillennialism, particularly dispensationalism, might seem “Jewish” to some because they promise that the kingdom of God will be restored to ethnic Jews as the just fulfillment of the Old Testament promises to Abraham and his descendants. But this was not the case with ancient Christian chiliasm. The New Testament’s revelation of the Church as the true Israel and heir of all the promises of God in Christ was too well-established and too deeply ingrained in the early Christian consciousness for such a view to have been viable.

Ancient Church chiliasts like Irenaeus did indeed argue that some of God’s promises to Israel had to be fulfilled literally in a kingdom on earth, but they recognized that the humble recipients of this kingdom would be spiritual Israel, all who confessed Jesus as God’s Messiah, regardless of their national or ethnic origin.5 Ancient chiliasm was not criticized because it “favored” the Jews as having a distinct, blessed future apart from Gentile Christians.

What then did critics mean by calling chiliasm “Jewish”? Their use of the label meant “non-Christian Jewish,” or even, “anti-Christian Jewish.” These early critics believed that chiliasm represented an approach to biblical religion that was sub-Christian, essentially failing to reckon with the full redemptive implications of the coming of Jesus of Nazareth as Messiah. They saw it as an under-realized, a not-fully-Christian, eschatology.

We can outline at least three aspects of this criticism.

Its Sources Were Non-Christian Jewish Sources First, critics of chiliasm point out that Christian chiliasts got their chiliasm not so much from the apostles as from non-Christian Jewish sources.6 Irenaeus cites a tradition from a book written by Papias of Hierapolis about the millennial kingdom.7 The tradition purports to reproduce Jesus’ teaching on the kingdom as related through the Apostle John to those who remembered the latter’s teaching. It is the famous report about each grapevine in the kingdom having ten thousand branches, each branch ten thousand twigs, each twig ten thousand shoots, each shoot ten thousand clusters, and each cluster ten thousand grapes, etc., with talking grapes, each one anxious that the saints would bless the Lord through it.8 As it turns out, this account seems to be a development of a tradition recorded in the Jewish apocalypse 2 Baruch in its account of the Messiah’s earthly kingdom (Ch. 29).

Some scholars note that the chiliasm of Justin, JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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though it derives the number 1,000 from Revelation 20, springs more from a certain approach to Old Testament exegesis (particularly on Is. 65:17-25) than from the eschatology of Revelation.9 And this approach is in basic agreement with that of Trypho, his Jewish interlocutor. This is in keeping with the role chiliasm plays in Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho, where it functions as part of an apologetic which sought to claim everything Jewish for Christianity. The issue of the fulfillment of the prophets’ predictions of glory for Israel was very much a part of the atmosphere of the discussion between these representatives of Christianity and Judaism, for their encounter took place not long after the failed attempt by Bar Cochba to take Jerusalem back from the Romans (A.D. 132–35).

Chiliasm Was “Jewish” in its View of the Saints’ Afterlife Second, we now know that early chiliast and nonchiliast Christian eschatologies had to do with more than an expectation of a temporary, earthly kingdom, or lack thereof. They encompassed other beliefs about eschatology. It may seem curious to us today, but the ancient Christian chiliasts defended a view of the afterlife in which the souls of the righteous did not go immediately to God’s presence in heaven at the time of death, but went instead to a subterranean Hades. Here souls, in refreshment and joyful contemplation, waited for the resurrection and the earthly kingdom before they could enter the presence of God. 10 The only ones exempted from Hades were men like Enoch and Elijah who, it was thought, had not experienced death but had been translated alive to paradise. This view of the afterlife on the part of the chiliasts Papias, Justin, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Victorinus, and Lactantius was connected directly to their chiliasm. We know this both from the coexistence of these beliefs in Jewish sources (2 Baruch, 4 Ezra, Ps. Philo’s Biblical Antiquities, and some rabbinic traditions) and from the internal connection between the doctrines drawn by Irenaeus.11 Yet most of the Church (and at times even the chiliasts themselves in spite of themselves) knew and treasured the New Testament hope of an immediate enjoyment of the presence of God in heaven with Christ at death (Luke 23:42-43; John 14:2-4; 17:24; Phil. 1:2223; 2 Cor. 5:6-8; Heb. 12:22-24; 2 Pet. 1:11; Rev. 6:911; 14:1-5; 15:2; 18:20; 19:14). But this aspect of the Christian eschatology, this “hope of heaven” made possible only by the completed work of Jesus the Messiah and his own ascension to heaven, shattered the mold of Jewish chiliastic eschatology. Such a vision belonged to a non-chiliast (what we would today call amillennial) understanding of the return of Christ. This vision essentially saw the millennium of Revelation 20 as 18

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pertaining to the present age, wherein the righteous dead are alive in Christ and are now participating with their King and High Priest in the priestly kingdom in heaven (Rev. 20:4-6).12 In the new light of this fully Christian expectation, a return to an earthly existence, where sin and bodily desires still persisted and a final war (as in Rev. 20:8-10) still loomed, could only be a retrogression in redemptive history.13 We can observe then two competing patterns of Christian eschatology from the second century on: one chiliastic, which expects an intermediate kingdom on earth before the last judgment and says that the souls of the saints after death await that earthly kingdom in the refreshing underworldly vaults of Hades; the other which teaches instead that departed Christians have a blessed abode with Christ in heaven, in the presence of God, as they await the return of Christ to earth, the resurrection and judgment of all, and the new heaven and new earth.

Why did the chiliastic view of the afterlife appeal to some of the most prominent defenders of Christianity?

As noted, for Justin, it functioned as a way of claiming all the Jewish inheritance for Christians. Did the prophets promise a kingdom of peace, bounty, and righteousness as the Jews insisted it did? Then these prophecies could be claimed for Christianity, for Christianity is the fulfillment of Judaism. But by the time of Irenaeus (later in the second century) there was another motivation. Orthodox believers were battling Marcionism, Valentinianism, and various other gnosticisms, which were devastating portions of the Church. All these heterodoxies rejected any notion of the salvation of the physical body through resurrection and any notion of a restored creation, since they all claimed that the material creation was inherently evil (or at least destined for annihilation), because it was not the creation of the highest God. They also claimed that their adherents would mount up to the highest heaven (beyond the orthodox) at death. 14 Both aspects of eschatology were designed to “do the orthodox one better.” Chiliasm provided an ideal response for Irenaeus, for it emphasized the goodness of the material creation as the good product of a benevolent God. It also refuted the inflated afterlife boasts of the heretics about direct ascension to the highest God as soon as they died. The true believer instead would follow the course of the Lord and remain in Hades until his soul was reunited with his body at the resurrection.15 But despite its usefulness in helping to claim the mantle of Judaism and in fending off matter-denying Gnosticism, chiliasm was at odds with aspects of the Church’s hope handed down from the apostles and made so clear in the New Testament writings. As such, the chiliastic eschatolog y could not survive intact.

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Tertullian, after embracing chiliasm, tried some minor modifications. Even as a chiliast he remained more open to understanding the “earthly” prophecies of the Old Testament in a more “spiritualized” way.16 He also argued that some Christians—but only those who literally suffered martyrdom—could be spared a stay in Hades and could inhabit the heavenly paradise before the resurrection.17 But even Tertullian’s admirer Cyprian could not accept this ameliorated form of chiliasm, and comforted his congregations in the face of a raging plague with the Christian hope of the heavenly kingdom when they died.18 With Lactantius in the early fourth century we see a determined attempt to revive a more “genuine” form of chiliasm.19 But by the fourth century these views could not stand long among educated clergy.

The Christian hope of union and fellowship with Christ after death was too strong for the chiliastic eschatology to flourish ever again in its original form. The work of Tyconius, Jerome, and Augustine at the end of the fourth century and in the early fifth simply put the exclamation point on the inevitable.

Chiliasm’s Old Testament Hermeneutic Led to the Crucifixion Finally, the chiliastic alternative on the intermediate state of the Christian soul between death and the resurrection was a problem which in itself could have led to chiliasm’s demise. But there was another problem which, when clearly exposed, had the potential of being downright scandalous. It was recognized by Origen and has been seen by non-chiliasts down to the present day.20 It is the realization that the “literal,” nationalistic interpretation of the prophets was the standard that Jesus, in the eyes of his opponents, did not live up to, and therefore was the basis of their rejection of his messiahship. One of the prophecies that Irenaeus had insisted will be literally fulfilled in the kingdom on earth was Is. 11:6-7, which speaks of the wolf dwelling with the lamb and the leopard with the kid, etc. Origen specifically mentions this passage as among those which the Jews misinterpret: “and having seen none of these events literally happening during the advent of him whom we believe to be Christ they did not accept our Lord Jesus, but crucified him on the ground that he had wrongly called himself Christ.” 21 This “Jewish” approach to the Old Testament prophecies and its role in the Jewish rejection of Jesus was recognized even by Tertullian and was no doubt one of his motivations for taking a more “spiritualized” approach to those prophecies than Irenaeus had done.22

phenomenon. We have organized three faults of chiliasm around the theme of its so-called “Jewish” character. These faults include its sources; holding out an attenuated hope of blessing for the Christian after death, for it was based in a pre-Christian system which as yet lacked a Savior who had raised humanity to heaven; and clinging to an interpretation of Old Testament prophecies which did not comport with the Christian approach but which could be used to justify the crucifixion. Instead the crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus the Messiah had effected a momentous change which Jewish chiliasm was not welladapted to accommodate.

But it was not these “faults” alone that fatally injured chiliasm. It might have lasted longer if there had not always existed in the Church another, more fully “Christian,” eschatolog y sustaining the Church throughout the whole period. That eschatology, revealed in the New Testament writings, proclaimed Jesus Christ’s present reign over all things from heaven, where his saints were “with him” (Luke 23:42-43; John 14:2-4; 17:24; Phil. 1:22-23; 2 Cor. 5:6-8). It saw the culmination of that reign not in a future, limited, and provisional kingdom on earth where perfection mingled once again with imperfection, but rather in the full arrival of the perfect (Rom. 8:21; 1 Cor. 13:10) and the replacement of the present heaven and earth with a heaven and earth in which righteousness dwells (2 Pet. 3:13; Rev. 21-22). Evidence of this eschatology runs throughout the post–New Testament period, from Clement of Rome to Augustine.

Modern premillennialism, in its several forms, has indeed undergone certain transmutations from its ancient ancestor, some of which are improvements, some arguably not. It may be possible to develop a premillennialism which obviates the worst of chiliasm’s pitfalls in antiquity. But the more challenging question will always be whether any form of chiliasm can ever be shown to be the view of the New Testament writers. MR

Dr. Charles E. Hill is associate professor of New Testament at Reformed Theological Seminary in Orlando. He is the author of Regnum Caelorum: Patterns of Future Hope in Early Christianity (Oxford, 1992).

Conclusion Why did the Church reject chiliasm? Essentially because chiliasm was judged not to be a fully Christian JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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FREE SPACE VIEWS

EXPRESSED IN THIS COLUMN ARE NOT NECESSARILY ENDORSED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF

INTERVIEW WITH DR. ALBERT MOHLER, JR. PRESIDENT OF SOUTHERN BAPTIST THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY [In our Free Space interview last issue, we began to explore “new model” Evangelicalism with one of its proponents, Dr. Clark Pinnock. This interview we will continue to interact with some of the same issues, now with Dr. Al Mohler, an outspoken critic of “progressive” or “new model” Evangelicalism. —ED.] MR: Dr. Mohler, you have written recently about “postmodern evangelicals.” Specifically, you have discussed the declaration by Prof. Stanley Grenz (of Carey Theological College and Regent College) that a new intellectual era has dawned and the Church must join it: Grenz asserts that the Church should “claim the new postmoder n context for Christ” and establish new paradigms for expressing the faith.

An appropriate postmodern Evangelicalism, suggests Grenz, would recognize a “postfundamentalist shift” that establishes the new evangelical landscape. Evangelicals must shift from a “creed-based” paradigm to a “spirituality based” model of faith and theology. The old propositional paradigm must be set aside as a relic of long ago… .1 How do you respond to Grenz’s call to move from a “creed-based” to a “spirituality based” model of faith and theology?

AM: First of all, I think the dichotomy is a false one. That is, I believe that when Evangelicalism is theologically and biblically grounded and focused, it will then also reflect a healthy spirituality.

My concern is that those who are now under the banner of recovering “spirituality” are rejecting the doctrinal, theological, and biblical basis of the faith.

Such a spirituality then is basically just an evangelical form without any real substance or foundation.

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MR: The Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals talks a good deal about the recovery of particular truths: the sufficiency of Scripture, the sufficiency of Christ, the sufficiency of the Gospel, the sufficiency of grace, and so forth. But you seem to be making the point that we are living in a time in which we must think not only about recovering particular truths, but also about the recovery of truth with a capital “T”.

AM: I recently saw another one of those survey instruments which indicated that the majority of Americans reject the notion of tr uth as any transcendent, objective, absolute reality. I believe that this type of relativistic worldview has infected the evangelical ranks far more persuasively than most of us would like to admit.

For example, I believe that the “cutting-edge” issue right now among evangelicals is the exclusivity of Jesus Christ as Savior. There can be no doubt that Scripture is unequivocal on the issue, but I think that the broader worldview is influencing evangelicals on the question.

Scripture says that Jesus Christ is the way, the truth, and the life; that there is no other name under heaven and earth whereby men must be saved; that he is the only sufficient Savior. Yet, we have evangelicals who sing the right hymns, and even pray prayers that are recognizably evangelical; they sit in evangelical churches under evangelical preaching—but when they are pressed, they will say that there must be some other way, that there must be some truth in these non-Christian religions, that there must be more to this than the Gospel itself.

MR: How significant is the relationship between this problem and the weakening of the doctrine of sin within Evangelicalism? For we are again hearing that seventy-seven percent of evangelicals say that man, by nature, is basically good.

AM: The problem goes right back to the Garden of Eden, all the way back to the beginning of all of our problems. The fact is that we don’t want to be told that we are sinners. And modern evangelicals have convinced MODERN REFORMATION

themselves, along with most other Americans, that we are not sinners. Rather, we think that we are inherently good, if not perfectible. But if we do not understand what it means to be a sinner, if we do not understand human depravity, then we cannot possibly understand the Gospel.

MR: Then it is no wonder that we could find all kinds of good in other religions, since there is after all some sort of written law on the heart. But if we think that this law is something that can save us, then we don’t have a very high doctrine of sin.

AM: I think that is right. We make ourselves our own law-giver, our own judge, and then our own redeemer and priest. Modern American individualism plays right into this. It is the rugged autonomy of the self. I’ll do it my way; I’ll judge it my way. But you end up with basically no meaning outside of that autonomous self.

MR: What is it that makes it so difficult, even for devout people, to make tr uth claims in the contemporary context?

AM: I immediately think of the martyrs during the time of the Roman persecution. They were put to death not so much for saying “Jesus Christ is my Savior, my Lord,” but for saying “Jesus Christ is Lord.” These are two different statements. It is true for believers that Jesus is our Lord, but beyond that, Jesus is the Lord of all. The Christian Gospel is not just something that applies to me individually. It is not that it is true for me, but not true for others. The Gospel is true. God’s revelation is true. It is objectively true, independently true, eternally true, and those martyrs went to their deaths because they would not bend. But the modern world with its relativistic worldview is very selfreferential. And unfortunately, we have an increasing number of evangelicals saying that Jesus is Savior for me; the Gospel is true for me; the Bible is true for me. But they are then unwilling to make a universal truth claim.

MR: You talk about “conceptual emptiness.” What is this, and how does it pervade our lives today?

AM: This is when we use important terms, but rob them or evacuate them of their meaning. For instance, good words like “atonement” and “redemption” are made more psychotherapeutic than theological. Behind this, there is a real emptiness. When we listen to many self-proclaimed Christians preach, there is a basic vacuity or emptiness that cries out for an answer.

MR: Do you see any connection between this and the turn some are taking from the preaching of the Word to drama? Does this reveal that we have lost our confidence that the preached Word is actually God’s meeting with his people?

AM: Absolutely, and this is also to put a finger on the influence of entertainment culture. For the larger American context, it is a way of avoiding conceptual issues. It is a way to avoid dealing with the truth. As Neil Postman said, we are basically “amusing ourselves to death.” And I believe that this is an indictment of much evangelical worship. It is often nothing more than spiritual amusement.

MR: I remember the old Dorothy Sayers’ argument that “the dogma is the drama.” She said that if there is a problem with boredom in the churches, it must be because the churches do not care about dogma anymore.

AM: Absolutely. And any other drama as a substitute is not going to be true. It may be interesting; it may be amusing; it may even be moving. But this is one of evangelicals’ real Achilles heel issues: We think that that which moves, is true. But actually what moves us may not be true at all. It may simply be moving. It may be full of emotional impact, but that does not make it true.

And I am afraid that the legacy of revivalism leaves many evangelicals susceptible to thinking whenever we see or experience something that is moving, it must be of God. MR: Thinking again about your comments about Stanley Grenz (above), it really is quite remarkable.

Some seem to want to “revision evangelical theology” really in the direction of no theology at all. Grenz would of course say that there are some doctrines we must affirm as evangelicals, but doesn’t the agenda of “progressive evangelicals” as a whole seem to be about marginalizing key evangelical tenets?

AM: Whenever I hear someone deny the importance of propositional truth, my defenses go up, because that is nothing more than a deep dive into a pool of irrationality. Yet, that is exactly what Grenz and others seem to be suggesting that evangelicals should do. They are arguing that we should move away from what he says was an over-dependence on propositional truth, to a more “spirituality based” paradigm or model of Evangelicalism which is focused on experience and community. This really comes out of larger movements in postmodern thought where the truthfulness of truth is denied, and it is all made a matter of communitarian JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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interests. Some evangelicals, and Grenz is among them, seem to be saying that the Bible is true for us, for the Christian Church. The Bible is the Church’s book, but there is no propositional truth claim beyond that.

more than an invertebrate Evangelicalism, which is what I am afraid we see all around us.

MR: But aren’t there also tremendous opportunities at the end of the twentieth century?

MR: I recently read through a volume by a New Testament scholar who does not consider himself an evangelical. He points out that one of the real tragedies of having New Testament scholarship perpetuated by liberalism has been the tendency to view the Scriptures as basically just the psychological, inner states of the people (the New Testament writers) who were having religious experiences. But he points out that there is an odd parallel with evangelical pietist circles where the Bible is read not in order to find out what it meant and what it means, but in order to find out what kind of relevance it has for me in my particular situation at this moment.

AM: Similarly, there is a socialist who recently did a study of evangelical sermons on the parable of the prodigal son, which he measured against nonevangelical, mainline Protestant sermons on the same subject. He found that both groups basically did the same thing with the text: reduce it to a nice, moralistic story.

It really raises questions about Evangelicalism.

Many are indeed trying to avoid different modernisms.

They are not explicitly denying the faith, but instead they completely marginalize it. Rather than denying key doctrines, many simply shift the entire basis of the faith away from doctrinal par ticulars toward a more generalized “spirituality.” So there are those evangelicals who say: “I haven’t denied Chalcedonian Christology, the Trinity, the authority of Scripture, or justification by faith alone. These things are just not really the substance of my preaching.”

AM: Undoubtedly, and we must always live in hope.

But we must also always recognize the critical difference between optimism and hope. Looking at the contemporary situation, I am not optimistic. But we have no right, given the Gospel, to be anything other than hopeful. For after all, it is God who is sovereign, and that is our comfort.

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MR: So the central things are no longer central, but the claim is often that at least they haven’t been rejected entirely. Those doctrines are locked away in a vault somewhere; the pastors remember “signing off ” on them.

AM: I think there is a moral responsibility in the advocacy of truth. I believe that this responsibility includes not just defending what is true, but also uncovering and critically analyzing that which is opposed to the tr uth. But this is where many evangelicals catch a case of the professional hives. We know that positions are being advocated which undercut the very foundation of the faith, but we do not consider it our responsibility to confront and lay bare such errors.

There is a loss of nerve. In fact, there is a loss of the entire nervous system. And we end up with nothing 22

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MODERN REFORMATION

Resurrection and Redemption: HOW ESCHATOLOGY AND THE GOSPEL RELATE RICHARD B. GAFFIN, JR. How is Christ’s resurrection essential for our salvation?

Surprisingly, this question has been relatively neglected in church history. The overriding concern, especially since the Reformation, has been to make clear that the death of Christ is not simply an ennobling example to be imitated but a substitutionary, expiatory sacrifice that reconciles God to sinners and propitiates his judicial wrath. In short, the salvation accomplished by Christ has become virtually synonymous with the atonement.

This concentration on the death of Christ has no doubt been necessary. But as a consequence the doctrinal or saving significance of his resurrection has been largely overlooked. All too frequently it has been considered exclusively as a stimulus and support for Christian faith (which it surely is) and in terms of its apologetic value, as the crowning evidence for Christ’s deity and the truth of Christianity in general.

When we tur n to the New Test-ament, however, this doctrinal oversight proves particularly impoverishing, especially for the letters of Paul.

They proclaim that Christ’s resurrection is inte-gral to the Gospel and essential for the accomplishment of our salvation!

Paul’s Resurrection Theology The reality governing much of Paul’s teaching on the resurrection is expressed in 1 Corinthians 15:20 (cf. v. 23): Christ in his resurrection is “the firstfruits of those who are fallen asleep.” This description of Christ does more than indicate temporal priority or even preeminence. Commensurate with its Old Testament cultic background (e.g., Ex. 23:19; Lev. 23:9ff.), it conveys the idea of organic connection or unity. Christ is the “firstfruits” of the resurrection-“harvest” that

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includes believers (as v. 23 shows). Christ’s resurrection is the guarantee of the future bodily resurrection of believers, not simply as a bare sign, but as “the actual beginning of th[e] general epochal event” (Geerhardus Vos). The two resurrections, though separated in time, are not so much separate events as two episodes of the same event, the beginning and end of the one and same harvest. So, if present at a modern-day prophecy conference, and pressed as to when the bodily resurrection for believers will take place, the first thing Paul would likely say is, “it has already begun!”

The resurrection-harvest, then, is as an eschatological event. Christ’s resurrection is the dawn of the new creation (2 Cor. 5:17; Gal. 6:16), the arrival of the age to come (Rom. 12:2; Gal. 1:4). It is not an isolated past event, but, though it occurred in the past, it belongs to the future consummation, and from that future has entered history.

Christ as the “firstfruits” of resurrection highlights that the primary significance of his resurrection lies in what he and believers have in common, not in the profound difference between them. The resurrection is not so much a powerful proof of his divine nature as it is the powerful transformation of his human nature.

According to Paul, Jesus did not “rise” but “was raised” from the dead (Rom. 4:25; 1 Cor. 15:20); stressing the creative power and action of the Father (e.g., Gal. 1:1), of which Christ is the recipient.

To find a conflict with statements like that of Jesus in John 10:18 (“I have authority to lay [my life] down and authority to take it up again”) is both superficial and unnecessary. The ancient creedal formulation adopted at Chalcedon (A.D. 451) proves helpful here: the two natures coexist hypostatically (in one person), without either confusion or separation; Jesus expresses what is true in terms of his deity, Paul what is no less true in terms of his humanity.

So far we have noted the bond between Christ’s resurrection and the future bodily resurrection of believers. But Paul also speaks of the Christian’s resurrection in the past tense: believers have already been raised with Christ (e.g., Eph. 2:5-6; Col. 2:12-13; 3:1). As Ephesians 2:1-10 clearly shows, this past resurrection is an experience at the beginning of the Christian life, that is no less real (and we might add, no less irrevocable) than the bodily resurrection will be. It effects a radical, 180-degree reversal in “walk” or conduct. The people who actually walked in the deadness of sin (vv. 1, 5) now actually walk in the good works of new creation existence in Christ (v. 10).

To sum up Paul’s resurrection theology: An unbreakable bond or unity exists between Christ and Christians in the experience of resurrection. This bond has two components—one that has already taken place, at the 24

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beginning of Christian life when the sinner is united to Christ by faith, and one that is still future, at Christ’s return.

In terms of a distinction Paul himself makes (2 Cor. 4:16), so far as believers are “outer man,” that is, in terms of the body, they are yet to be raised; so far as they are “inner man,” at the core of their beings, they are already raised.

The Christological Implications What concerns Christ (Christology) and what concerns Christians/the Church (soteriology and ecclesiology) are the two major, yet interrelated strands of this teaching. Respecting Christ, perhaps most striking is the working relationship between Christ and the Holy Spirit that results from the resurrection. Paul captures that relationship in 1 Corinthians 15:45 by saying, of Christ, that in his resurrection (and ascension, vv. 47-49) “the last Adam became the life-giving Spirit.”

Consequently, speaking specifically of Christ as exalted, “the Lord is the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:17). In view in such passages are: 1) Christ’s own climactic transformation by the Spirit, and, along with that transformation, 2) his unique and unprecedented reception of the Spirit.

Paul affirms what has not always been adequately recognized in the Church’s Christolog y: the momentously transforming significance of the exaltation for Christ personally. In his resurrection something really happened to Jesus. As Paul puts it elsewhere (Rom. 1:4), by the declarative energy of the Holy Spirit in his resurrection, God’s eternal (v. 3a) and now incarnate (v.

3b) Son has become what he was not previously, “the Son of God with power.” He now has a glorified human nature (2 Cor. 13:4).

But Christ does not receive his glorified humanity merely for himself but for the sake of the Church. In the language of Romans 8:29, the resurrection makes him the image to which believers are predestined to be conformed, so that he, the Son, might be “firstborn among many brothers.” Specifically the exalted Christ is that image into which Christians are even now already being transformed (2 Cor. 3:18) and which they will one day bear bodily in their future resurrection at his return (1 Cor. 15:49).

Likewise, Christ was raised “for our justification” (Rom. 4:25). The resurrection vindicates Jesus in his perfect “obedience unto death” (Phil. 2:8-9). It reveals that he embodies the perfect righteousness that avails before God. In that sense his resurrection is his justification and so, by imputation, through union with him by faith, our justification. Without the resurrection, along with his death, there would be no justification of the ungodly (Rom. 4:5): our faith would be futile and we would still be in our sins (1 Cor. 15:17).

The resurrection-transformation of Christ by the Spirit also results in a climactic intimacy, a new and MODERN REFORMATION

permanent oneness between them that surpasses what previously existed. Previously, to be sure, Christ and the Spirit were at work together among God’s people (e.g., 1 Cor. 10:3-4). But now, dating from his resurrection and ascension, their joint action is given its stable and consummate basis in the history of redemption, as the crowning consequence of the work of the incarnate Christ definitively accomplished in history. 1 Corinthians 15:45 is, in effect, a one-sentence commentary on the primary meaning of Pentecost: Christ is the receiver-giver of the Spirit. What Peter stresses in his Pentecost sermon (Acts 2:32-33) as inseparable once-for-all events— resurrection, ascension, reception of the Spirit, outpouring of the Spirit—Paul telescopes by saying, “the last Adam became the life-giving Spirit.”

It bears emphasizing that this oneness or unity, though cer tainly sweeping, is at the same time circumscribed in a specific respect; it concerns their activity, the activity of giving resurrection life (1 Cor. 15:45) and eschatological freedom (2 Cor. 3:17). In other words, the salvation-historical focus of Paul’s statement needs to be kept in view. Eter nal, innertrinitarian relationships are quite outside his purview here. He is concerned not with who Christ is (timelessly), as the eternal Son, but what he “became” (1 Cor. 15:45), what has happened to him in history, and that specifically in his human identity. Paul could hardly have been more emphatic calling Jesus “the last Adam” and “the second man” (v. 47).

Consequently, it is completely gratuitous to find here and elsewhere in Paul, as some do, a “functional” Christology that obscures or even denies the personal distinction between Christ and the Spirit, thus conflicting with later Church formulation of trinitarian doctrine. The personal, parallel distinction between God (the Father), Christ as Lord, and the (Holy) Spirit—underlying subsequent doctrinal formulation— is clear enough elsewhere in Paul (e.g., 1 Cor. 12:4-6; 2 Cor. 13:13; Eph. 4:4-6).

Eschatology and the Work of the Sanctifying Spirit The relationship between the exalted Christ and the Spirit is the cornerstone of Paul’s teaching on the Christian life and the work of the Holy Spirit. The presence of the Spirit is the presence of Christ (Rom. 8:910; Eph. 3:16-17). Life in the Spirit has its specific eschatological quality because it is the shared life of the resurrected Christ, in union with him. The radical edge of Paul’s outlook stresses that at the core of their being (“the inner man” or the “heart”), Christians will never be more resurrected than they already are! Christian existence across its full range is a manifestation and outworking of the resurrection life and power of Christ, the life-giving Spirit (Rom. 6:2ff.; Eph. 2:5-6; Col. 2:12-13; 3:1-4).

These considerations need underscoring because of a pervasive tendency throughout church history to “deeschatologize” the Gospel and its implications, especially the work of the Holy Spirit. His present activity, characteristically, is viewed in a timeless or even mystical way, as what God is doing in the inner life of the Christian, detached from eschatological realities. By contrast, the New Testament claims that “eternal life” is “eternal” not because it is above or beyond history (ahistorical in some sense), but because it is eschatological.

Specifically, it is the resurrection life that has been revealed, in Christ, at the end of history and, by the power of the Spirit, comes to us out of that consummation.

A side of the Reformation, it seems fair to suggest, still needs completing. Justification by faith alone, as the reformers came to understand and experience it, is an eschatological reality. A favorable, gracious verdict at the last judgment is not an anxious, uncertain hope (where they felt themselves to be left by Rome), but a present possession, the confident and stable basis of the Christian life.

But while the Reformation and its children have grasped, at least intuitively, the eschatological thrust of the Gospel for justification, that is not nearly the case for sanctification and the work of the Spirit. The tendency (at least in practice) has been to view justification, on the one hand, as what God does, once for all and perfectly; while sanctification, on the other hand, is what the believer does, out of gratitude though imperfectly.

No doubt, one motive at work in distinguishing justification from sanctification in this way is to safeguard the totally gracious character of justification.

Certainly, too, we must guard against all notions of sinless perfection, never forgetting that “in this life even the holiest have only a small beginning” (Heidelberg Catechism, Answer 114).

But—and this is the point—that beginning, however small, is an eschatological beginning. It stands under the apostolic promise that “he who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 1:6). Sanctification, no less than justification, is God’s work. In the New Testament there is no more basic perspective on sanctification and renewal than that expressed in Romans 6: it is a continual “living to God” (v. 11) of those who are “alive from the dead” (v. 13).

Elsewhere, it is a matter of the “good works” of the eschatological new creation, for which the Church has already been “created in Christ Jesus” (Eph. 2:10). In their sanctification believers begin at the “top,” because they begin with Christ; in him they are those who are “perfect” (1 Cor. 2:6) and “spiritual” (v. 15), even when they have to be admonished as “carnal” (3:1, 3). The Church today needs to give more adequate attention to JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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this eschatological dimension of sanctification and the present work of the Holy Spirit.

But, it might now be asked: Hasn’t the resurgent Pentecostal spirituality of recent decades seen and, in large measure, recaptured the eschatological aspect of the Spirit’s working and so compensated for the traditional neglect and shortcomings just noted?

Here just one brief observation to this large question will have to suffice. Spiritual gifts are undoubtedly important for the health of the Church.

But, a cur rent widespread misperception notwithstanding, the New Testament does not teach that such gifts, especially miraculous gifts like prophecy, tongues, and healing, belong to realized eschatology.

For instance, a concern of 1 Corinthians 13:8-13 is to point out that prophecy and tongues are temporary in the life of the Church. Whether or not at some point prior to the Parousia (I leave that an open question here), Paul is clear that they will “cease” and “pass away” (v. 8). But that cannot possibly be said of what is eschatological. Such realities, by their very nature, endure.

Phenomena like prophecy and tongues, where they occur, are no more than provisional, less-thaneschatological epiphenomena.

All told, the New Testament makes a categorical distinction between the gift (singular) and the gifts (plural) of the Spirit, between the eschatological gift, Christ, the indwelling, life-giving Spirit himself, in which all believers share (e.g., 1 Cor. 12:13), and those subeschatological giftings, none of which, by God’s design, is intended for or received by every believer (1 Cor. 12:28-30, for one, make that clear enough).

The truly enduring work of the Spirit is the resurrection-renewal already experienced by every believer. And that renewal manifests itself in what Paul calls “fruit”—like faith, hope and love, joy and peace (to mention just some, Gal. 5:22-23), with, we should not miss, the virtually unlimited potential for their concrete expression, both in the corporate witness as well as the personal lives of the people of God. Such fruit, however imperfectly displayed for the present, is eschatological at its core. This is a point, I hope, on which charismatics and noncharismatics, whatever their remaining differences, will eventually agree.

the perennial danger for the Church of an overly realized eschatology. Perhaps most instructive and challenging, even if at a first glance a paradox, Paul sees suffering as specifying the quality of the believer’s resurrection-life in the interim between Christ’s resurrection and return.

Passages like 2 Corinthians 4:10-11 and Philippians 3:10, though strictly speaking autobiographical and having uniquely apostolic dimensions, clearly show that Paul intends the suffering he experienced to be understood as a paradigm for all Christians.

In the former passage, Christian suffering, described actively as “the dying of Jesus,” molds the manifestation of his resurrection-life in believers. In the latter, to know Christ is to know his resurrection-power as a sharing in his sufferings—an experience, all told, described as “being conformed to his death.” The imprint left in our lives by Christ’s resurrection power is, in a word, the cross.

This cross-conformity of the Church is, as much as anything about its life in this world-age, the signature of inaugurated eschatology. Believers suffer, not in spite of or even alongside of the fact they share in Christ’s resurrection, but just because they are raised up and seated with him in heaven (Eph. 2:5-6). According to Peter (1 Pet. 4:14), it is just as Christians suffer for Christ that God’s Spirit of (eschatological) glory rests on them. For the present, until he returns, suffering with Christ remains a primary marker of the eschatological Spirit.

The choice Paul places before the Church for all time, until Jesus comes, is not for a theology of the cross instead of a theology of resurrection-glory, but for his resurrection theology as theology of the cross.

When the Church embraces the inseparable bond between faith in Christ and suffering for him (Phil.

1:29), it will come a long way toward experiencing the eschatological quality of its resurrection-life in Christ, the life-giving Spirit. MR

Dr. Richard B. Gaffin is professor of biblical and systematic theology at Westminster Theological Seminary (Philadelphia).

Suffering Between Christ’s Resurrection and Return But now a question may come from another quarter.

Will not stressing the resurrection-quality of the Christian life and the eschatological nature of the Spirit’s work minister an easy triumphalism, a false sense of attainment? “Possibility thinking” and “prosperity theolog y” in various for ms are by no means an imaginary danger, as our own times make all too clear.

The New Testament itself is alert to this danger— 26

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PREACHING CHRIST EXAMPLES OF REDEMPTIVE HISTORICAL SERMONS

BEHOLD THE LIFE-GIVING CROSS 1 CORINTHIANS 1:18–24 WILLIAM M. CWIRLA For the word of the cross is folly to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, “I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the cleverness of the clever I will thwart.” Where is the wise man? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe.

For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 1 Cor. 1:18-24, RSV In the Name of Jesus “Behold the life-giving cross on which was hung the salvation of the world.”

Behold the cross—wood and nail, the raw materials of the carpenter. An instrument of torture and execution invented by the Persians and developed to cruel excess by the Romans. A testimony to the creativity of our cruelty. It was the cruelest and crudest way to die, reserved for anarchists, insurrectionists, and slaves. Cicero called it “the supreme capital penalty.”

The Jews said that anyone hung on a tree was cursed.

Yet in the hands of God the cross is the instrument of freedom, the font of forgiveness, the tree of life, and the source of our salvation.

“Behold the life-giving cross on which was hung the salvation of the world.”

The cross is the altar of sacrifice on which God offered his only-begotten Son as the holocaust par excellence, the whole burnt sin offering sacrificed for the world’s sin. Recall young Isaac, Abraham’s son of the promise, on his way up the mountain carrying the wood on his back. “Father, here is the fire and the wood, but where is the lamb for the burnt offering?” Where is the sacrifice that would be laid on the wood? Young Isaac is led like a lamb to the slaughter. Faithful Abraham, his father, believes God’s Word; he trusts God even in contradiction. How could God ask him to do such a thing, to kill his only son whom he loved, the son God had promised to him? God contradicts God. The “father of nations” is ordered to sacrifice his only son.

And yet Abraham trusts the promise and won’t let go.

“God will provide the lamb for the burnt offering.”

Just as he was about to plunge the knife, the angel of the Lord intervenes. Caught in the wood of the thicket

there is the ram, the substitute sacrifice. God will provide.

On the wood of Calvary’s cross is God’s Lamb, caught in the tangle of the Law and our sin, offered up on the wood. Jesus is the substitute sacrifice for us all, God’s whole burnt offering for the sin of the whole world, perfect and unblemished, consumed in the double fire of God’s wrath against our rebellion and his burning passion to save his fallen creatures. Never has wood offered up such a sweet-smelling sacrifice as the wood on which the beloved Son of God was offered up for the life of the world.

Recall the Passover, the fateful night when death reigned in Egypt over their first-born sons. The wood of the doorpost, stained red with the blood of the lamb, was the only protection. “The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you.” The Passover lamb stood in place of the first-born. His blood smeared on the wood was the death-defying mark. The cross is the world’s doorpost. Stained red by the blood of the Passover Lamb, it shields from death. Never has wood been so gloriously stained as that crimson wood of the cross of Jesus. Where his blood is, there death passes over.

Recall the bronze serpent in the wilderness, God’s antidote to the sting of the fire snakes that were loose in the camp of the Israelites. God commanded Moses to make a serpent out of bronze, put it on a pole, and lift it high so that the snake-bitten Israelites could look on it and live. The cure resembled the disease.

“As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.” “But I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all men to myself.”

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin, sin’s JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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poison, is the Law. The Law, which is holy and good and promises life to all who do it perfectly, works death in the sinner. It accuses us, it kills us, it dogs us to our death. The Law always kills.

Jesus’ body and blood, given unto death, is the antiserum to the Law. The cure resembles the sickness.

He was made sin for us who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21). God laid the sin of the world, your sin, on his Son made Man. He nailed your sin to the wood of the cross and raised Christ high for all the world to see.

Here we see the image of our sin and God’s wrath. The Son hangs dead, forsaken by his Father, damned. This is our lot as sinners. How awful he looks! People turn away and hide their faces. And yet here, precisely here, we see our healing and God’s mercy. “By His wounds we are healed.” There by the grace of God goes he for us.

The cross is the pole that raises up God’s banner of salvation; his flag in the battlefield. Never has wood been so regally adorned as that wood to which the body of Jesus was nailed. No flag of state or monarch can come close to matching the surpassing beauty of the cross on which was hung the salvation of the world.

The royal banners forward go, the cross shows forth redemption’s flow.

Where He, by whom our flesh was made, Our ransom in His flesh has paid.1 Behind the banner marches the militant church of newborn soldiers on their way through death to eternal life. They bear on their foreheads their Lord’s baptismal mark—the sign cross. This is the emblem by which we know God’s camp in the field of battle: “We preach Christ and Him crucified.”

The cross is the tree of life for sinners. Here the fallen children of Adam, barred from the Tree of Life in Paradise, may freely eat and live forever. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him” (John 6:54-56). The fruits of his sacrifice Jesus gives to us— the water of Baptism, the words of Absolution, the Supper of His Body and Blood.

Never has wood born such magnificent fruit as the cross that bore the Body and Blood of Jesus our salvation. Without the cross there is no Baptism, no Eucharist, no forgiveness of sins, no life, no salvation.

The cross is the life-giving tree that gives life to all who feed on it and who trust in the One who hung on it.

“Behold the life-giving cross on which was hung the salvation of the world.”

The cross is the glory of Jesus in his triumphant 28

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hour. “Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say?

‘Father, save me from this hour?’ No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”

(John 12:27-28). This is his crowning achievement, the consummation of his work, his hour of power. “It is finished,” he cries out. And in triumph, he dies. His preaching, his teaching, his miracles all find their purpose in this moment.

This is Jesus’ victory. Never has wood so gloriously triumphed in battle as the cross on which was hung the Victor who conquered death by dying. No spear, no bow, no club, no weapon of man comes near the power of the cross. The evil one, who once overcame by the tree of knowing good and evil, is now overcome by this triumphal tree.

But the glory and triumph and beauty and honor of the cross lies hidden behind humility and weakness and slaughter and death. The cross is foolishness to those who seek worldly wisdom. It is scandalous to those who look for visible signs of God’s power. St. Paul knew well the felt needs of his culture. He knew the expectations. He knew the impact of the cross on those who heard his preaching. He recognized that a powerless and dead Messiah hanging on a tree was a scandal to his fellow Jews. He knew that a crucified God was tasteless, unsophisticated nonsense to the wisdom-loving Greeks. The philosophers of Athens openly mocked him. The proconsul Gallio considered the heated dispute between Paul and the Jews to be nothing more than silly sectarian bickering. Festus thought the apostle had lost his mind.

But St. Paul knew that there was no other tree, no other Christ, no other blood, no other sacrifice, no other Gospel than Jesus Christ and him crucified. There could be no compromise, either with the religious Jew or the intellectual Greek. There could be no shading the message or bending the cross to fit another agenda.

“For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom; and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength.” When God appears most foolish by our standards of wisdom, then he is most wise in divine wisdom. When God appears most weak by our standards, he is most strong. When God hangs dead on a cross in the person of his Son, he is most Lord, most Savior, most Redeemer. The cross of Christ is God’s mighty weakness and his wise foolishness.

Down through the ages the church has been tempted to deny the cross, to disguise its hidden beauty, to diminish its place. Some misguidedly take away the body.

“He’s risen,” they say with great enthusiasm. They remove the flag but leave the flagpole. Some have bleached away its bloodstains and covered its gnarled wood with gold and jewels, imagining that they can somehow adorn this wood in a more inspiring way. Our culture has turned the MODERN REFORMATION

cross into a piece of art, a trinket of jewelry dangling about the neck or hanging from an earlobe, a cultural icon instead of the icon of God’s love for sinners.

Like the people of Paul’s day, people today still clamor for displays of power and glory. Miracles are a good drawing card. Do enough of them and you can have your own TV show. Wisdom—goddess Sophia— still holds many captive to her seductions. “Make it reasonable and rational and palatable to the postmodern mind,” we are told.

Jews demand signs; Greeks wisdom. We go with whatever works. Success indicates divine approval in our pragmatic, American way of thinking. If it works it must be from God. “Never mind the cross, Pastor. We need to grow this church. Impress us. Amuse us. Entertain us.

Uplift us. Massage our bruised egos. Stroke our selfesteem. Make us feel good about ourselves and our choices. Just don’t hurt us, don’t make us feel badly, don’t kill us, don’t crucify us. Don’t nail us to the cross. Save yourself and us. We don’t want to die.”

Where this leads is a crossless, Christless, bloodless, lifeless religion. Forgiveness without repentance.

Absolution without genuine, personal confession.

Baptism without daily dying and rising. Communion without commitment to congregation. Joy without sorrow. Easter without Good Friday. Life without suffering. “The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” To a world drunk on its own self-esteem, the cross is heresy, foolishness, a scandal. Preach the cross in its glory and you will be labeled a heretic and a fool.

But to those who believe in the Crucified One, to those who trust that this death of Jesus is their own death, that his life is their life, that his perfection is their righteousness, the cross is God’s power and wisdom.

“Receive the sign of the cross, upon your forehead and upon your heart, as one redeemed by Christ the Crucified.” You may recognize those words from our baptismal rite. They were spoken over you when you were signed with the cross. You have been nailed to the cross of Jesus in the water of Baptism, pinned to the glorious crimson wood by the nails of faith. You are marked men and women, branded with the seal of him who died. You belong to him, and he belongs to you. You no longer live, but Christ who is in you lives. And the life you now live in the flesh you live by faith in the Son of God who loved you and who gave himself up for you.

Under the cross we work and pray. As Luther’s Small Catechism teaches us, “In the morning when you arise, and in the evening when you lie down, make the sign of the holy cross and say, ‘In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.’” Your head, your heart, your strength, your being, all of you belongs to him who died and rose for you, who named

you and claimed you, who marked you for eternity.

The cross means our daily death and resurrection.

Daily all that is sin and death in us must die; daily Christ must rise. Live nailed to the wood by faith in Jesus where you are kept in safety for the Day of resurrection to life. Learn the way of his cross, the wood and the nail, the way of suffering and death, of repentance and faith that leads to life. Be cleansed in its baptismal flood. Feed on its fruit—the Body and Blood of Jesus in the Holy Supper. Confess your sins and be refreshed in its forgiveness.

And each and every day, until the end of the days, there is Jesus Christ. Christ, the power of God. Christ, the wisdom of God. Christ crucified for you.

“Behold the life-giving cross on which was hung the salvation of the world.” In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

The Rev. William M. Cwirla is the minister of Holy Trinity Lutheran Church (Missouri Synod) in Hacienda Heights, California. This sermon was preached at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Alexandria, Virginia, on the occasion of the Feast of the Holy Cross.

THEOLOGY OF THE CROSS

C O N F E R E N C E TA P E S E R I E S John Armstrong, Alistair Begg, James Boice and Michael Horton The cross stands at the very heart of Christianity. But to judge from what is heard in thousands of pulpits across America Sunday by Sunday, not only do we not glory in the cross, we do not even think about it very much. This series takes a fresh look at the centrality of the cross.

C-97-POA, 6 tapes, $30.00 To order call (800) 956-2644.

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Imagining God’s City: NARNIA AND THE NEW JERUSALEM RICK RITCHIE

When Aslan Knocked on Carl Sagan’s Door One striking example of a Christian gaining a hearing from a notorious unbeliever can be seen in C. S. Lewis’ influence on Carl Sagan. Sagan was the greatest popularizer of science in our time, and his hostility to religion was famous. Yet in his novel Contact, there are several points of “contact” with Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. Contact was Sagan’s fictional portrayal of the destiny of man. Yet this avowed agnostic saw fit to borrow from Lewis’ Christian symbolism. The most explicit connection is found where Sagan names a space 30

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Chuck Dillon, pen and ink

A compelling imaginative por trayal of humanity’s final state can soften Christianity’s most hostile critics. We often make the mistake of thinking that the most hard-boiled atheist’s arguments against Christianity are all exclusively intellectual. Or we rush to accuse the nonbeliever of avoiding Christianity for moral reasons. While we cannot ignore these aspects of the question, we often neglect another side.

Has Christianity been presented so that it represents hope? What if the unbeliever never gave Christianity a chance because it looked hopeless? The unbeliever hears of doom and gloom from us, yet sees a hopeful immediate future for him or herself, and decides that Christianity is too bad to be true. This is the real possibility that we forget to consider. Yet thankfully there are examples of Christians who have managed to communicate the historic Christian teaching of the end of the age in such a way that they won a hearing even from the greatest skeptics.

We can learn from them. shuttle Narnia. A more subtle parallel can be found in the journey of Dr. Arroway (played by Jodi Foster in the movie) to another galaxy, which seems to take hours, yet occupies only moments of earth time. Nobody believes her story when she retur ns. She is accused of fabricating her whole account. This is just like Lucy’s journey in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where Lucy spends hours in Narnia and pops out of the wardrobe back into England without any earth time having passed.

Nobody believes her but a wise old professor. The most intriguing parallel between Sagan and Lewis, however, is a doorway which appears on the otherworldly beach to

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which Dr. Arroway travels. This doorway appears to lead nowhere, but when walked through leads to another dimension where people’s deepest longings are satisfied.

This resembles the stable door through which all pass at the end of time in Lewis’ book The Last Battle. In this work, the final judgment happens as all creation passes through the door, and all and sundry must look into the face of Aslan, the Christ figure. Those who look with fear and hatred are lost. Those who look with fear and love pass into eternal life.

Carl Sagan himself stepped into eternity recently.

We can wonder what his reaction was as he walked through the door. Surprise was a major element, no doubt. Yet whatever Sagan’s confession at the end of his life, is it not amazing that Lewis’ approach to presenting Christian truth was enough to gain a hearing from an avowed skeptic? Lewis must have created something extraordinary to fire the imagination of a man like Sagan. For one of Sagan’s chief arguments against religion had been that it stifled wonder and curiosity, impulses which he believed to be the mark of a scientist.

When I first read the Chronicles of Narnia, I was a nine-year-old boy on the verge of jettisoning Christianity. It wasn’t that I hated the rules, or that people at church were mean. I had the problem that I didn’t know if I would ever believe solidly enough to be allowed into heaven. (Some well-meaning Vacation Bible School teacher had said something about how when you become a Christian doubts go away. But I still had some.) I almost decided against reading the series because the author was a Christian. The blurb on the back proved too inviting, however. What nine-year-old could resist the words: “Here is your passport to a most extraordinary excursion into magical lands and enchanted happenings. If you’ve never been to Narnia, you can enter it for the first time with any of the books below … but once you start, you’ll want to read every one of The Chronicles of Narnia”? I could see the analogies between Narnia and Christianity. The grandness of the vision overpowered me. My sense of creation deepened.

I could trust a God whose character matched that of Aslan. And I knew Aslan was based on Christ. Perhaps I still had some doubts. But I now trusted God more than I feared my doubts. Lewis also inoculated me against trivial views of God that made him the ruler of some boring Sunday school realm, while “Science” created interesting things like dinosaurs and the law of gravity. A compartmentalized reality would never again be an option, if it ever had been before. I don’t know if Sagan could see all of this in Lewis’ writing, but some of it surely rubbed off. His world shows the influence of Lewis. The only thing missing is Aslan. But Narnia is only a doorway away.

Vain Imaginations?

The Last Days must be imagined anew. As Reformation Christians, we must be at the forefront of offering hope to the world. Our theology is a happy theolog y. It doesn’t belong in yellowing books announcing the arrival of the Antichrist in now-dated (and false) scenarios. When I say that our imagination of the End Times is insufficient, I don’t mean this in a merely whimsical sense. How we picture the world to ourselves must have a deep rationality to it, or we will have no sure map by which to live. Yet the Bible uses word pictures to convey deep tr uths. Every eschatological picture is a picture of blessings and curses, or to put it in Reformation terms, Law and Gospel. Our own use of the pictures can grow stale and fall into patterns that are unsupported by the text. We read the curses as if they were only deserved by a small class of really bad people, and not all people by nature, or as if they were to fall indiscriminately on the unrighteous and those who are righteous by faith. Or we invent unrealistic promises of what God will do for us in this life, forgetting all that he has truly promised in this life and the next. When we have imagined a vain thing, and it is challenged, we must be prepared to imagine something new.

The Purpose of the Book of Revelation When we study Revelation, there are two things we must not forget. The first is that the book cannot be understood without an awareness of the Old Testament imagery. The second is the original audience of the book. Revelation was given to the Church to present a philosophy and a psychology of history, and especially of suffering, for Christians. The Early Church saw intense persecutions which caused many to doubt that God was in control of history. Using images, the book of Revelation shows how Christ is Lord of History in spite of persecution.

The book is a dose of reality for a suffering Church.

If someone is being persecuted for the sake of Christ, the knowledge that his enemies are going to be stomped under Christ’s feet at the end may be just what is needed to make things bearable. Consider a faithful Christian under the Nazi regime. He or she may pray for the salvation of the prison guards. (Corrie Ten Boom reportedly did.) Yet some who have been faithful might derive benefit from considering the end of those who do not repent. Revelation was written for such people. I am convinced that it was written for us as well, but much that they could read profitably will harm us if we read it in the same way.

It is the nature of the modern age to try to read everything that is written in a timeless manner, as if all words applied equally to all people at all times. Yet the JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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promise of 2 Timothy that all Scripture is profitable must be taken in light of the temptation of Jesus where even true insights from Scripture can be spoken at the wrong time or to the wrong audience. Much of our reading of the book of Revelation is right doctrine spoken in an unprofitable manner. When we read the book of Revelation to the culture in a way that causes hopelessness, I think we have misread the intent. If Jesus lived his life healing people and giving the outcasts hope, are we not going against the grain of Scripture to teach the end of the age in a way that leads exclusively to despair?

Revelation is one of the biblical books where the primary intent is not to inform people of things they do not know, as much as to show them what they already knew from a different angle. A great deal of Old Testament literature and Christological doctrine must be understood before the reader even approaches this book.

The story of the woman delivering the child in Revelation chapter 12 will only make sense to us if we already know something of Christ’s birth. We cannot learn of that birth from this passage the same way we can learn of it in Luke chapter 2. It is the significance of the birth for us that Revelation teaches. But if we are standing on the wrong side of persecution, some of the significance will not pertain to us. The doctrine remains, but we will learn that better from Luke.

Much of the book tells us of God’s vengeance upon an unbelieving world. In one sense, this is a fact. It is a fact which we could learn about from many places in the Gospels. But in the Gospels this fact is presented through warnings to individuals to be prepared for the coming end of the age. The warnings have a future focus. The Revelation, in contrast, is a comfort to those already threatened with, or even currently suffering persecution in their own time. Its focus is on present faithfulness. The fate of the ungodly is comforting because it gives meaning to today’s suffering. Christians are not har med without God being angered. If unbelievers do not repent of the harm they have done, they must pay for their crimes.

We read about the vengeance on the unbelieving world less profitably when we are not facing real persecution. Often, our problems with the world are a general result of the fallenness of the age. It is the thistles and thorns of the curse which frustrate us, not persecutions by the ungodly. Living in one of the more affluent regions of the fallen world, our attempts to create easy, comfortable lives are sometimes rewarded and sometimes thwarted. We rush to blame others. It is the unbelievers who make our lives difficult, we decide.

Or perhaps, more darkly, we fear that God will judge our nation if the unbelievers are allowed to sin with impunity. And that judgment will strike us unless we work for legislation to curb sin.

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Revelation is to be read after we have read the Gospels, and our stance toward the world is first learned from the Gospels. If we succeed so well in being salt and light that we bring real persecution upon ourselves, we might begin to profit from the book of Revelation. When we begin from Revelation, though, we begin with the wrong stance.

Vengeance is not a first principle. If we are walking into life with a sense of being at war with the world, this may have more to do with original sin than with the cost of discipleship. If after being sons of the heavenly father, our good is repaid with evil, it might be time to ask how long God will delay judgment. In the book of Revelation, the souls who ask this question are those who have already died. In life they did good to those who persecuted them. Even St. Paul wished good for King Agrippa when he stood before him on trial (Acts 26:29).

When we take conflict with the world as a first principle, we become a greater evil than the world itself.

C. S. Lewis spoke of how the hard sayings of having to hate mother and father for the sake of the Gospel are beneficial only to those who find them hard sayings. He cites a fictional account of the Gospels written by an atheist where Judas hears the saying, and marvels that the disciples are offended. Judas has no problem hating his family. That one was easy! Likewise, we are first to love our neighbors and identify with them as sinners.

We only take comfort in the coming judgment as they condemn Christ. We do not start with the sense of ourselves as righteous and “them” as wicked. Rather, we start with a sense of our common wickedness, and we cry out to Christ, the only hope to Christian and nonChristian alike.

Revealing Christ to the World This hopefulness should transform us, and this is where we have something to learn from writers like C. S. Lewis, who was able to soften the hearts of skeptics through his presentation of the end of the age. You might object that you are not the author of awardwinning children’s literature with a degree from Oxford University. Nonetheless, there is still something for all of us to emulate. Each of us carries around with us a deeply held sense of the nature of life as a whole. This is often expressed in temperamental terms. Some people are said to be optimists, and some pessimists. Some come from happy households, some from despairing ones. Some have easy lives, some struggle daily.

Christianity ought to have an impact on our overall sense of where we are headed. That sense must have an impact on how we speak about the future.

The law tells us what we already know about the nature of righteousness. There is a standard to which we do not live up, and there is a judgment ahead. The Gospel then breaks in and proclaims to us something we MODERN REFORMATION

do not know. The standard has been met by another, and there are unearned rewards up ahead. This is the good news. Let us not forget, though, that law alone is not good news. It is the Gospel—it is what Christ has done, is doing, and will yet do—that is the good news!

The law makes us aware of our need, but it is not the answer! We must offer hope, we must offer Christ.

When we offer law alone, or the ter rors of Revelation alone, the world is right to ignore or reject us. Now, there will of course be a class of people who dismiss us as soon as we disagree with them on moral standards—that is, as soon as we assert any law at all.

They will believe that unless we agree with their lax standards we pose a threat. These are the “fundamentalist” liberal types. Yet most people are more pluralistic and open than that.

So, in addition to evenhanded speaking of the Law—that is, applying it to all humanity, rather than merely to non-Christians—we should also be known for lavish speaking of the Gospel. C. S. Lewis’ depiction of Narnia won me as a child partly because he made heaven sound interesting. I have heard many people since childhood say that they don’t care about going to heaven because it sounds boring. When you unpack what they mean, they are thinking of a never-ending church service, or a bunch of angels with harps, or something equally dull. Modern life, despite its troubles, at least offers variety. I had been inoculated against such paltry thoughts of the afterlife. Matters were helped by the fact that I read the books during a family vacation in Vancouver. I still believe on some level that when I die I will find myself in the heavenly British Columbia: ocean, green forests, waterfalls, and all. What I really mean is that heaven must be even better than that. One thing that may help people would be to slip some gritty materiality into their conceptions of the afterlife. This will involve some imagination on your own part.

Spend some time pondering the possibilities of eternity. To be sure, we will never imagine anything so good as the reality. All our thoughts will be dim speculations. Yet not all speculations are equal. The boring heavens that many imagine are a form of heretical Gnostic theology. They suggest that the Redeemer is someone other than the Creator. How could it be that heaven would be worse than earth if both are created by the same Creator, and he claims that earth is fallen, and heaven unimaginably better? To believe in a boring heaven, we must imagine it was created by someone other than the Creator of earth. If we reject this Gnostic outlook, then one look at earth will disprove such small-minded conceptions of heaven.

Our speculations should involve considering what is best on earth, and realizing that heaven must be at least that good. Like my images of British Columbia, you should

hold your own speculation with a loose grip. Neither of us has imagined the real thing. Yet these speculations might do a lot to prevent us from imagining something smaller. When you speak to friends or coworkers, you might mention your speculations. Create vivid images of beauty and vitality, of an expansive time in which you would need an eternity to begin to scratch the surface of the possibilities. Then admit that you aren’t sure just what is up ahead, but that it will be at least as good as what you have described. You may find that people are intrigued that you aren’t holding to the “harps and clouds” or “never-ending church service” visions that they have had stuck in their minds.

The Gospel offers to us a promise that fulfills the deepest longings of our age. Expansive possibility is open before us. Yet the modern age makes a similar promise to people, and offers to fulfill the promise now.

All around us, we see examples of people who are hoping for this condition, or working for it, or envying the apparent success of others in achieving it, or living in the wreckage of a false and costly illusion of such possibilities. The man who leaves his family in mid-life for a younger woman only to be dumped by her later and has to pay double alimony discovers how false some of life’s promises can be. The opposite natural condition from expansive possibility is a predictable security. Many see the dangers of the one condition and assume that the other is automatically more Christian.

Yet do we remember the rich young ruler, or the parable of the man who built the bar ns? As natural propensities, a desire for predictable security and a desire for expansive possibility are neither virtuous nor sinful as such. In this life they present trade-offs. Extreme failure in these realms yields either a suffocating lack of vitality or a flightiness that never accomplishes anything.

An individual’s preferences for security or for openness may be excessive in either direction, but what I fear is the simplistic identification of security with Christianity and expansive possibility with decadence.

When this happens, a pastor will point to those whose lives have been wrecked when they abandoned their responsibilities to chase a dream and were disappointed.

The answer given is to return to a dull life that will never harm you in such a way. Whether or not this turns out to be reasonable advice in a given case, it is not the Gospel. Many would rather suffer the pains of their damnation than accept such a Gospel. It is not the Gospel they have rejected. We must not put people in the position of thinking that it is.

Yet we often justify our own staid starting points, especially against adventurous dreamers like Sagan, by believing that our disposition is the biblical one. But consider two of the “expansive” images in the book of Revelation that we tend to read past since we do not JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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know what to do with them. Perhaps we have taken Revelation so literally that we have imagined it as a travelogue. St. John is inserting naturalistic detail and telling us what he saw without regard to its significance.

This is an improper reading. Yet some of the significance is easy to miss, even if it is also easy to understand once explained.

•

And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea (Rev. 21:1).

•

And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof (Rev. 21:23).

If we are ocean-lovers, we might be tempted to be downcast by the idea of no more sea. The Revelation is not meant to be read as a Fodor’s guide to the final state.

In Hebrew thought, the sea was a place of chaos. The Babylonians had a creation story that spoke of sea monsters. It has been suggested that the biblical story sets the record of creation straight by emphasizing God’s power over the sea itself (Psalm 24:1-2) and its creatures. Such power is mentioned elsewhere (Job 41:11, Psalm 104:26, Isaiah 27:1). The most impressive display of God’s power over the water is seen in the Great Flood. Here, not just power, but judgment is involved. In the New Testament, the sea is a place where Jesus proves his ability to rule over the powers that threaten to destroy life (Mark 4:36-41). Jesus can set a limit to a power that means death for us. For the sea to vanish in the New Creation means that there is no more chaos. The curse is no longer. Jesus has borne the whole curse in our place. The powers of the new creation are all to our good. Nobody will again set out on a journey during which they will lose their life. No part of creation will be inhospitable to humankind. We will be able to go anywhere. Whether or not there is an ocean, there will be no sea of the threatening kind known on the first earth. The new earth, whether or not it contains bodies of water, will contain no threat by which we might perish.

The second passage I quoted mentions a city illumined always by Christ. The primary meaning here is that Christ is the light of the world. The implication is that we will never be in darkness. Together these images suggest expansiveness. Many opportunities of the modern world are the result of the age of discovery, when the sea was no longer too dangerous to cross, and the light bulb, which allowed people to pursue their dreams even when the sun wasn’t shining. Yet in our 34

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world the new technologies often have a darker side.

Think of the Titanic, where a well-lit ship sunk into icy water ending the expansive dreams of many. Heaven will have all of the expansive promise of the modern world but without the dark side. Jesus is the one whose power makes all the places in the New Creation safe for us. And Jesus is the one whose presence will destroy any limits to life within that Creation. He is no added technolog y which allows us a more comfor table adjustment in a fallen creation, but the Creator himself who abolished the limits of human life by freely surrendering to those limits in his own divine Person.

Such thoughts ought to fill us with hope! And such hopes ought to make us wary of any presentations of Christianity which offer a narrow vision of the future. In our present-oriented world, we must take the time to remind ourselves that our present circumstances, and even our present lives, are not the entire horizon of our existence. Yet beyond that, we must remember that whatever is up ahead is not only beyond what we have experienced, but beyond what we have imagined. Good imaginative portrayals of the end of the age can remind us of just how much we have failed to imagine ourselves. In The Last Battle, C. S. Lewis portrays characters who fight passionately to the end for the good that they have known.

They are in battle even on the Last Day, and they are so without knowing that it was the last day. Up to the very end they are attempting to persuade others to join them in Aslan’s Country. May we live like this. May our journey through the door take us unexpectedly, yet prepared all the same. At a surprising moment, may we be surrounded by innumerable redeemed, many of whom we would never have expected to see, and be thankful to the Prince of Life for allowing us entry into his city. MR

Mr. Rick Ritchie, a contributing author to Christ the Lord: The Reformation and Lordship Salvation (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1992), is a graduate of GordonConwell Theological Seminary in South Hamilton, Massachusetts.

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WHITE HORSE INN RADIO BROADCAST FEATURING HOSTS MICHAEL HORTON, KEN JONES, KIM RIDDLEBARGER, & ROD ROSENBLADT Arizona Phoenix KPXQ 960 AM, Sun. 9 pm California Lake Tahoe KNIS 91.9 FM, Sat. 8 pm & Sun. 12 Noon Lancaster KAVL 105.5 FM, Sun 4 pm Los Angeles KKLA 99.5 FM, Sun. 9 pm Mammoth KNIS 89.9 FM, Sat. 8 pm & Sun. 12 Noon Modesto KCIV 99.9 FM, Sun. 9 pm Palmdale KAVL 105.5 FM, Sun. 9 pm Riverside KKLA 1240 AM, Sun. 9 pm Salinas KKMC 800 AM, Sun. 3 pm San Diego KPRZ 1210 AM, Sun. 9 pm San Francisco KFAX 1100 AM, Sun. 3 pm Ventura KDAR 98.3 FM, Sun. 9 pm Colorado Colorado Springs KGFT 100.7 FM, Sun. 10 pm Denver KRKS 94.7 FM, Sun. 10 pm District of Columbia Washington, DC WAVA 105.1 FM, Sun. 9 pm & 12 Mid. Idaho Boise KBXL 94.1 FM, Sun. 10 pm Illinois Chicago WYLL 106.7 FM, Sun. 11 pm Kansas Hays KPRD 88.9 FM, Fri. 8:30 pm Wichita KSGL 900 AM, Sun. 8 pm Maryland Baltimore WAVA 1230 AM, Sun. at 9 pm & 12 Mid.

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The White Horse Inn is a weekly radio program produced by the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals. Each week the hosts talk about important theological topics from both the Lutheran and Reformed perspectives.

Dr. Michael S. Horton is the author/editor of ten books, including Beyond Culture Wars and Putting Amazing Back Into Grace. The Reverend Ken Jones is the pastor of Greater Union Baptist Church in Compton, California. Dr. Kim Riddlebarger is co-pastor of Christ Reformed Church in Anaheim, California. Dr. Rod Rosenbladt is a Professor of Theology and Christian Apologetics at Concordia University in Irvine, California.

If the program is not listed in your area, tune in on the internet at www.AllianceNet.org/radio/whi.html

UPCOMING TOPICS December 20 — February 7: Predestination February 14 – 21: Special Features February 28 — April 18: Suffering

Pennsylvania Danville WPGM 1570 AM/96.7 FM, Fri. 11 am Montrose WPEL 1250 AM/96.5 FM, Fri. 11 am New Berlin WBGM 88.1 FM, Fri. 11 am Philadelphia WFIL 560 AM, Fri. 8 am & 10:30 pm, Sun. 6 pm & 12 Mid. Pittsburgh WORD 101.5 FM, Sun. 6 pm & 12 Mid. Sayre WPEL 92.1 FM-T, Fri. 11 am Williamsport WPGM 101.7 FM-T, Fri. 11 am Yardley WCHR 920 AM, Fri. 5 pm & 9 pm Texas Austin KIXL 970 AM, Sun. 8 pm & 11 pm Dallas KWRD 94.9 AM, Sun. 11 pm Houston KKHT 106.9 FM, Sun. 11 pm Jacksonville KBJS 90.3 FM, Sun. 11 pm San Antonio KDRY 1100 AM, Sun. 9:30 pm Virginia Norfolk WPMH 1010 AM, Sun. 9 pm Washington Collville KCVL 1240 AM, Sun. 9 pm Seattle KGNW 820 AM, Sun. 9 pm Wyoming Casper KCSP 90.3 FM, Sat. 8 pm & Sun. 12 Noon On the Internet www.AllianceNet.org/radio/whi.html

RECENT RADIO SERIES NOW AVAILABLE ON TAPE Unity in the Church How should modern Christians think about and strive for unity?

What is the basis for unity among different kinds of Christians? In this four tape White Horse Inn series, Michael Horton, Ken Jones, Kim Riddlebarger and Rod Rosenbladt help to answer these and other questions as they teach us about the proper relationships between unity and doctrine.

C-UIC-S, $23.00 Great Debates in Church History In this six-part series, the White Horse Inn hosts discuss how leaders in Christian history left their mark on the evangelical church. Theological issues spanning many centuries caused church friction when certain men stood firmly upon their convictions, and the resulting debates were instrumental in bringing the church to its present state. The White Horse Inn hosts talk about the debates of Athanasius & Arius, Augustine & Pelagius, Anselm & Abelard, Luther & Erasmus, and Machen & Fosdick.

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35

REVIEW MUSINGS ON COMMERCE: A REVIEW OF THE CHRISTIAN BOOKSELLERS’ ASSOCIATION CONVENTION Noise is at a low ebb. It’s late Saturday afternoon at the annual Christian Booksellers’ Association Convention in Dallas. It’s 105 degrees outside, but the temperature in the big convention hall is comfortable. Most of the displays are up; vendors have until 8:00 p.m. to get ready or they will have to wait until Monday morning when more than 13,000 attendees arrive to crowd the floors as the commerce begins. Although booksellers are excluded from the floor until the ribbon-cutting ceremony in forty hours, I slip in on a press pass.

It’s been a while since I’ve been to one of these deals. In fact the last time was in Washington, DC at the then brand-new convention center. I did not come to Dallas willingly.

Largely because of my memories of kitschy bookstore paraphernalia like “scripture underwear” and the annual fashion parade by the likes of Tammy Faye Bakker. That was the early ’80s. But things have changed.

The first thing I notice is that music is big. The huge, attractive, contemporary booths of Provident Music Distributors, Chordant, wordenterainment (that’s one word), and Diamonte Music Group dominate the floor. It’s high tech, complete with music videos, a jumbo-tron screen TV and the words “WOW 1999” projected in green light high above the displays on the far walls. (I don’t know why the “O” in WOW is underlined.) All the major artists are pictured in large display prints, including Michael W. Smith, Jars of Clay, and the late Rich Mullins. CDs, cassettes, and promotional materials fill the interior displays.

There are a few friends from the publishing industry around who I greet, but I can’t resist starting my quest. I want to see how much stuff has WWJD (what would 36

JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

Jesus do) plastered on it this year. I’m not disappointed: besides the standard bracelet and shoestrings, there is a board game, a New Testament, an easel-backed woodcut table display, notepads, post-its, and a canvas backpack.

Plus, the 100-year-old best-seller In His Steps has been reissued with that same catchy title by the author Charles Sheldon’s greatg randson. This book promises to help you “Walk in his footsteps.

Do what Jesus would do.

Make a Difference.”

Also promoted this year is PAG wear, as in “put on the ar mor of God.” I only saw dog tags, but I’m sure it will catch on by next July.

Another competitor in the bookstore specialty product line is FROG, the answer to WWJD. You know, “fully rely on God.” This new witnessing tool comes in the form of stuffed frogs, T-shirts, flick-a-frog toys, key chains, pencils, and the ubiquitous coffee mug.

Finally I find merchandise from a company with a mission to provide apparel for the New Millennium.

Using a funky graphic logo of the letters “dwr” representing their slogan “do what’s right,” this company supplies T-shirts, CDs, jewelry, pencils, pocket scriptures, mugs, baseball caps, key chains, and a study guide.

Of course, books are displayed here, too. Rows and rows and rows of them. There are all the usual odd juxtapositions that you see in your local Christian bookstore. It’s just that here in Dallas, it’s larger than life. Baker Book House has large displays for The NEW Birth Order Book, Kids OnLine, On the Road Again (a book about travel, love, and marriage to help men in the ’90s have it all), plus an assortment of books for the superwoman with titles like Women Who TRY Too Hard.

Wedged in there on a floor display is a collection of titles by R. C. Sproul. Crisscrossing the aisles I find Kenneth Hagin Ministries’ Faith Publications booth AP/Wide World Photos

REVIEW BY DIANA S. FRAZIER

MODERN REFORMATION

with prominently displayed books like Faith FOOD Devotions and How to Fulfill Your Destiny. Across the way is the Harrison House display with an interesting title by Kenneth Copeland: Managing God’s Mutual Funds— Understanding True Prosperity. Not too far away it’s hard not to notice Albury Publishing’s life-size advertisement that asks “Got Jakes?” It’s a reference to T. D. Jakes’ new book on weight loss.

I see familiar booths like Crossway with new titles

by John Armstrong and Phil Ryken. Plus Moody (the name you can trust) is pushing well-known names like Alistair Begg and Erwin Lutzer.

I see a display for “Beautiful Music with Scriptural Insights” by Chuck Swindoll. And Word Publishers has an enormous display for Frank Peretti’s newest book.

The problem is that one of the t’s in Peretti is illustrated as a rugged cross. What’s that about?

I’ve been wandering for close to two hours and I’m beginning to feel the relentless effects of the hard concrete floor in my arches and calves, so I look for somewhere to sit for a few minutes. There amidst the plastic, metal, and lights is a rustic store front, with screen doors and an old-fashioned diner-type booth.

Complete with old Coke bottles in a wooden crate and a soda-jerk looking counter, this display is worthy of the elaborate boutiques down the street at Niemann Marcus.

Discreetly displayed on a wooden knick-knack shelf is a book with a warm, inviting cover. I’m suckered in. I pick it up. Yup, Broadman and Holman’s new best-seller, A Cup of Coffee at the Soul Cafe. It’s the ultimate lightweight, say-nothing book for the “universal need of the soul.” A young salesman proudly lets me know it’s been out since January and it’s already in its third or fourth printing and selling well at Borders and Barnes and Noble. I bet it’s right next to the Celestine Prophecy and the Bible Code book. Not to mention Chicken Soup for the Soul.

On Monday it’s my job to persuade booksellers to take modernREFORMATION to sell in their stores. I sense it’s going to be an uphill battle. As I settle into my hotel room this evening I’m struck by what I didn’t really see: theology. You know: books on Christianity at a Christian booksellers’ convention. Now I know those titles are there, but they aren’t prominent. Once again driving home why modernREFORMATION may never be big, but will at least be out there for those who get tired of the Soul Cafe.

Mrs. Diana S. Frazier is the Executive Vice President of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals.

A seminar on reformation theology for pastors and lay people.

The church in sixteenth-century Europe needed a reformation. Might the evangelical church of today be equally in need of a reformation? Many evangelical leaders say yes.

This seminar shows that truth is recovered only when the Bible has its rightful place as the supreme authority in the life of every Christian and every church. Here We Stand! calls believers to return to the authority of the Bible and to apply it faithfully to their lives and worship.

Pasadena, CA • January 16, 1999 Michael Horton & Robert Godfrey Atlanta • February 13, 1999 Michael Horton & James Boice Call 215·546·3696 JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

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In Print For He Must Reign CURE tape series Kim Riddlebarger In this twelve-tape audio series, Dr. Kim Riddlebarger introduces us to the topic of eschatology from a Reformation perspective. Throughout this series, Dr. Riddlebarger gives us a survey of the major end-times positions, and lays the foundations for proper biblical interpretation, especially as it relates to prophetic literature. This series is also available in a four-tape mini-version.

C-FR-S 12 tapes in an album, $63.00 C-FR-MS 4 tapes in an album, $23.00 The Last Days Are Here Again Richard Kyle (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1998) The Last Days are Here Again serves as a comprehensive source regarding movements related to the end times.

This handy guide also examines ideas espoused by fringe groups such as the Heaven’s Gate cult and shows how end-time thinking has been adapted to fit nearly every time period.

B-KYL-1 Paperback, $15.00 The Last Things: Death, Judgment, Heaven and Hell Paul Helm (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1989) Paul Helm writes with careful thought and serious purpose, but also with the humility and sensitivity of a Christian convinced that we must follow God's Word wherever it leads, and no further. The Last Things not only clarifies our view of the future—it also provides a fresher, clearer perspective on the present life.

B-HEL-1 Paperback, $8.00 The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind Mark Noll (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994) This critical yet constructive book explains the decline of evangelical thought in North America and seeks to find, within Evangelicalism itself, resources for turning 38

JANUARY/FEBRUARY 1999

the situation around. Noll traces the history of evangelical thinking in America. Written to encourage reform as well as to inform, this book ends with an outline of some preliminary steps by which evangelicals might yet come to love the Lord more thoroughly with the mind.

B-NOL-1 Paperback, $18.00 The Last Battle C. S. Lewis (Pittsburgh, PA: Harper Collins) Book seven in the Chronicles of Narnia, this is the story of how evil came to Narnia and Aslan led his people to a glorious new paradise.

B-LE-8 Paperback Set, $35.00 (Available as part of a seven volume series.)

The Bible and the Future A. A. Hoekema (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979) In keeping with the thesis that eschatology is a reality involving both the present and the future, the book is divided into two sections.

The first section deals with the present fulfillment of the kingdom and the blessings already enjoyed by the redeemed community; while the second takes up such topics as the state of the believer between death and the resurrection, the signs of the times, the millenium and the new earth.

B-HOEK-1 Paperback, $22.00

OUT OF PRINT: (available at your local library) The Pauline Eschatology Geerhardus Vos, ed. by Richard Gaffin (Phillipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian and Reformed, 1994) All books (except out of print) are available from MR by calling (800) 956-2644. Phones are answered from 8:30 am through 4:30 pm Eastern Time, Monday through Friday. For further book recommendations and an on-line resources catalogue, please visit our website at www.AllianceNet.org

MODERN REFORMATION

ENDNOTES IN THIS ISSUE—Michael S. Horton 1 Dick Teresi, “Zero,” Atlantic Monthly, July 1997, 88-94.

ESCHATON OR ESCAPE? PAUL’S TWO AGES VS. PLATO’S TWO WORLDS—Michael S. Horton 1 Plato, Republic, from The Great Dialogues of Plato (New York: Mentor, 1956), Book VIII, 315.

2 Rudolf Bultmann, What Is Theology?, trans. by Roy A. Harrisville, ed. by Eberhard Jungel and Klaus W. Muller (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 148.

3 Julius Schneiwind, Kerygma and Myth: A Theological Debate, ed. by Hans Werner Bartsch, trans. by Reginald H. Fuller (London: SPCK, 1953).

4 Ibid.

5 See especially The Essence of Christianity.

6 See especially The End of an Illusion.

7 Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, trans. by Duncan Large (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 20.

8 Daniel Breazeale, ed. and trans., Philosophy and Truth: Selections from Nietzsche’s Notebooks of the Early 1870’s (Atlantic, NJ: Humanities Press, 1979), 112.

9 Herman Ridderbos, When the Time Had Fully Come (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1957), 52.

10 Richard Gaffin, Resurrection and Redemption (Phillipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian and Reformed, 1978), 61.

11 Ibid., 50.

12 Geerhardus Vos, The Pauline Eschatology (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1930; Phillipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian and Reformed, 1994), 290.

FINDING COMFORT IN ESCHATALOGICAL TEXTS? CHRISTIAN HOPE IN REVELATION 7—Brian Lee 1 Though these texts (and Revelation in particular) do present their share of exegetical challenges, this is primarily the result of their heavy dependence on Old Testament prophecy, and our relative ignorance of the same.

2 The Open Bible suggests this reading by way of its editorial heading over 7:18: “144,000 Jews,” versus “Great Multitude of Gentiles,” over 7:9-17. A brief survey of commentaries evidences the popularity of this view.

3 The fact that the Levites are numbered in Revelation 7:1-8 is one of many differences in this listing of the tribes from the many Old Testament counterparts. The literature on this question often notes that the tribe of Judah has been given priority, likely to represent its preeminence as the provenance of the Messiah (see “The List of the Tribes in Revelation 7 Again,” Richard Baukham, Journal for the Study of the New Testament, 42, 99).

In light of the emphasis given to the non-numbering of the Levites in Numbers 1-2, their inclusion is likely also of significance. In the New Israel, the Blood of the Eschatological Lamb has rendered Levitical tabernacle ministry obsolete (Rev. 5:9, Heb. 9), allowing them to take up arms with their brethren.

4 It is important to note one possible objection. This reading suggests that John thought the church in his day was going to see with their own eyes the consummation of all history, and this clearly did not occur. Many conclude that John did believe this, but that he and the rest of the New Testament erred with regard to the timing of these events. Evangelicals soften this error with the New Testament teaching that neither the day nor the hour is known.

However, there is more than timing at stake here. John clearly claimed that he was living in the “last hour” (I John 2:18). Though this is not a prediction of Christ’s return, it is an explicit depiction of his church as the eschatological church, which has already seen in her midst the rising of many antichrists. When we say that the New Testament authors were in error regarding the proximity of Christ’s return, we are denying the eschatological character of the church, which has remained the same for the last two thousand years.

A possible solution is to conclude that the war, famine, death, and persecution of John’s own day was a part of the consummate judgment of the Lamb’s wrath—as is the war, famine, death, and persecution of our day. God has already begun his consummate judgment of this evil age.

This is not to reduce what appears to be supernatural judgment in

Revelation to the merely natural rumblings of the globe, nor to deny the coming of a universally witnessed overthrow of the natural order. Rather, it affirms God’s providential directing of history toward its appointed goal, as well as emphasizing the radical disjunct in human history wrought by the first coming of Christ. With the work of the cross, the consummation has begun. Unlike our Old Testament Fathers in the faith, there is nothing standing between the Apostles (or us) and the summing up of all things. It is the last hour.

5 Rev. 14:1-5; 15:1-8; 19:1-6; 22:1-5. In particular, the only other appearance of “great multitude” in Revelation (19:1 and 19:6) has so many details in common with 7:9-17 that it can only be construed as a direct parallel. In 19:5, the “great multitude” is also called “all you His bond servants,” further evidence that the 144,000 and the “great multitude” represent the same reality of the church, considered from different perspectives.

WHY THE EARLY CHURCH FINALLY REJECTED PREMILLENNIALISM—Charles E. Hill 1 The “ch” is pronounced as a “k”.

2 J. D. Pentecost, Things to Come (Grand Rapids: Durham, 1958), 374, 391; J. F. Walvoord, The Millennial Kingdom (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1959), 121-22; C. C. Ryrie, The Basis of the Premillennial Faith (New York: Loizeaux Bros., 1953), 14.

3 See C. E. Hill, “The Marriage of Montanism and Millennialism,” in E. A. Livingstone, ed., Studia Patristica XXVI (1992), 142-48; cf. D. Powell, “Tertullianists and Cataphrygians,” Vigiliae Christianea 29 (1975), 33-54.

4 Origen, de Princ. 2.11.2.

5 Irenaeus, Against Heresies 5.32.2; 34.1.

6 Origen, de Princ. 2.11.2.

7 Against Heresies 5.33.3.

8 Against Heresies 5.33.3.

9 Dialogue with Trypho 80-81. See also S. Heid, Chiliasmus und AntiChristMythos. Eine Frühchristliche Kontroverse um das Heilige Land (Bonn, 1993), 20-21.

10 For more on views of the saints’ afterlife, see C. E. Hill, Regnum Caelorum: Patterns of Future Hope in Early Christianity (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992).

11 Against Heresies 5.31.1; 32.1.

12 See e.g., Origen, Exhortation to Martyrdom 30; Cyprian, ad Fortunatum 12.

13 As Dionysius of Alexandria said, chiliasm persuades the simple Christian “to hope for what is petty and mortal and like the present in the kingdom of God” (Eusebius, HE 7.24.5). Denials that the kingdom would be “earthly” are found in the testimony of Jude’s grandsons according to Hegesippus (Eusebius, HE 3.20.4); Hippolytus, Commentary on Daniel 4.11.4).

14 Justin, Dialogue with Trypho 80; Irenaeus, Against Heresies 5.32.1.

15 Against Heresies 5.31.1-2.

16 See adv. Marc. 3.24, “As for the restoration of Judea, however, which even the Jews themselves, induced by the names of places and countries, hope for just as it is described, it would be tedious to state at length how the figurative (allegorical) interpretation is spiritually applicable to Christ and his Church, and to the character and fruits thereof.”

17 Tertullian, de Anima 55.4, 5; 56.8.

18 Cyprian, de Mortalitate 2, 18, 26.

19 Lactantius, Divine Institutes 7.14, 22-26.

20 Origen, de Princ. 4.2.1, 2; cf. C. Cels. 7.29, etc.

21 de Princ. 4.2.1.

22 Tertullian, adv. Marc. 3.6; cf. 3.21, 23; adv. Jud. 9. For the role of this type of Old Testament exegesis in the developing views of a Jewish Antichrist, see C. E. Hill, “Antichrist from the Tribe of Dan,” Journal of Theological Studies NS 46 (1995), 99-117.

FREE SPACE—Albert Mohler, Jr. 1 James Montgomery Boice and Benjamin E. Sasse, eds., Here We Stand: A Call from Confessing Evangelicals (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996), 63-64.

PREACHING CHRIST—William Cwirla Venantius Honorius Fortunatus (AD 530-609), quoted from Lutheran Worship 104, stanza 1.

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ON MY MIND

By James Montgomery Boice

Recovering Our Lost Confessions n the late 1950s and early ’60s, when evangelicals in this country were becoming conscious of their own identity and were beginning to get together to fight modernism, a type of creed was developed that seemed to be effective for that time. The best-known form of it is the doctrinal statement of the National Association of Evangelicals, but similar versions were produced for mission agencies, parachurch organizations, and even congregations.

These confessions of faith had about ten or twelve points. They started with affirmations about the authority and inerrancy of Scripture. This was followed by statements about the person and work of Jesus Christ, usually stressing such elements as his virgin birth, his vicarious substitutionary atonement, and his physical resurrection. There were articles stressing the necessity of faith in Christ, the duty of believers to evangelize the world, and the reality of a future final judgment. These formulations had the advantage of asserting essentials of the Gospel in language with which a broad range of evangelicals could agree, while at the same time avoiding divisive matters. Seldom was anything said about the Sacraments, for instance, or about the Church.

The interesting thing about these creeds—to the credit of those evangelical leaders who brought the movement together—is that they worked fairly well at that time. The drafters had seen the enemy of modernism, were able to overlook small differences among themselves, and came together boldly to enhance the overall outreach and witness of the Church.

But something has happened since the mid ’60s.

The problem is that these NAE-type statements worked well only because the evangelicals who were coming together in those days and who could identify themselves by such statements actually believed a great deal more than what their creeds said. These Christians knew the Bible and had inherited a great deal of solid theology that had been faithfully preserved in the creedal statements of their various denominations.

Unfor tunately, in our day that broader, deeper knowledge of the Bible and theology is no longer present. Today’s Christians are not able to draw upon that former theological capital. They are usually

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thinking like the world around them, and the result is that those old minimalist creeds are no longer adequate.

What we need now is a new, robust, God-centered theology which alone will be able to stand against the onslaughts of the postmodern age. In other words, we need something like the Reformation theology and the Reformation standards again. We need to recover them.

This is not a mere hankering after the past, though some have called it that. It is only a need to recover the knowledge of God and his ways that has always made God’s people strong against the surrounding secular cultures. We need to rethink our theology, and we need a new generation of scholars who are able to work through its various categories freshly for our age. The Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals encourages that effort and is doing its par t by its newly established summer theological colloquium. In the meantime, however, the great confessions of the past still need rediscovery.

One person who led his institution in a recovery of its past statements of faith is R. Albert Mohler, Jr., President of Southern Baptist Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. He insisted that his professors affirm the seminary’s “Abstract of Principles” and by that policy alone turned the school from what had been a drift toward liberalism to a strong new reformation conservatism.

Half a generation ago, J. B. Philips wrote a book entitled Your God Is too Small. That was a problem then. But it continues to be a problem now, only more so, since most of us not only have a small God but a small theology, too.

We have a God who would like to save us from sin but who is unable to do much about our sad condition. We need to recover knowledge of the truly sovereign God who has not only accomplished our salvation by the work of Jesus Christ but who reaches out effectively to call, regenerate, and sanctify lost sinners through the power of his Spirit and the preaching of his Word.

Recovering our lost confessions would go a long way toward strengthening today’s Church and perhaps even help us accomplish some significant victories over the thriving secularism of our age.

Dr. James Montgomery Boice is the president of the Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals and senior minister of Tenth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia.

MODERN REFORMATION