Tag: Christianity

Judge Not! (Oh, really?)

Everyone and their mother knows this verse (Matt. 7:1), and they use it—often inappropriately. Yet, there’s more to this passage than telling people not to judge. For example, just a few verses later, Jesus warns against false teachers. To dub a person a false teacher, you have to be willing to judge what they teach and how they live (Matt. 7:15–20). When a teacher grades an assignment, they are making a judgment. To call one thing good and another thing terrible is ultimately making a judgment. How did Jesus mean this? First, the term translated as “judge” denotes a habit of sharp, unjust criticism. The Greek term is krinete, from which our English word, “critic,” comes. We’re not talking about judging in the sense that we may think of it, but criticism. Notice what follows: how we judge is how we will be considered (7:2). This critical person sees only the fault in others but none in themselves (7:3–5; cf. Rom. 14:4, 10, 13).

We’re to judge righteously (John 7:24). Unrighteous judgment is according to appearance. Righteous judgment, however, is with grace, mercy, and God’s will as the standard. There’s always what we see and reality. Sometimes the two are the same, but sometimes they’re not. When we look for the worst, that’s what we’ll find every time. This was what the Pharisees did—look to find fault. They are the ones who are judged harshly and not with righteousness. In matters of righteousness, we’re to judge our brethren and not outsiders (1 Cor. 5:12). Judgment here isn’t a condemnation but discernment. When a Christian doesn’t bear the fruits of the Spirit but works of the flesh, we must address the issue. When you read the thought uninterrupted, it flows into the next chapter, which denounces lawsuits among brethren. This matter is one of discipline (cf. Deut. 17:6–7; Matt. 18:15–20).

A few standards of judgment would be good to avoid. The first would be judging someone by the worst thing they’ve ever done. This can be difficult because Jeffrey Dahmer did some pretty horrible things. Yet, you may not know that before he died, he became our brother, obeying the gospel while in jail thanks to Oklahoma minister Curt Booth and Wisconsin minister Roy Ratcliff. F.B. Meyer once said that when we see a brother or sister in sin, there are two things we do not know. First, we do not know how hard he or she tried not to sin, and second, we do not see the power of the forces that assailed him or her. We also do not understand what we would have done in the same circumstances. It can be challenging for some to fathom that a person like Dahmer could now be in heaven after all he did, but we cannot negate how powerful Jesus’ death was in comparison. If it isn’t powerful enough to wash away those sins, then it isn’t capable of anything. 

Another standard of judgment is imposing modern morals on the past. Slavery is agreed to be abhorrent. Yet, it has existed since the dawn of time, or pretty close to it. It still exists, believe it or not. The latest Global Estimates of Modern Slavery from Walk Free estimates that 49.6 million people live in slavery, either through forced labor or marriage. A quarter of those are children. North Korea has the highest percentage of slaves, and Africa and the Middle East have countries with considerably high numbers of slaves. Slavery didn’t begin with the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Yet, you don’t see activists caring much for these slaves, only those of the past. However, had we lived in that time and had the means, would we have had slaves? Would we have been slaves? We must remember that an evolving interpretation of Scripture led to its abolition in England and the United States. 

Our time would be better spent attending to our own blind spots (Matt. 7:3–5). How can we be a light to the world when we occupy our time with the judgment of others as if it were a spiritual gift given by the Holy Spirit? For some of us, being judgmental comes easy. It’s an all-too-tempted way to operate. Yet, how we judge is the same way we shall be judged. If we are harsh, we will receive harsh judgment. If we are gracious, we can receive God’s grace in judgment.  

Treasures in Heaven (Matt. 6:19-34)

Who hasn’t worried? We all do it, and sometimes with good reason. Worrying is not a sin, as some might persuade us to believe. There is, however, a component of faith that is absent when we worry because we have forgotten the sovereignty of God over all things. Yet, before worrying, fasting and prayer are things you’ll note in the sermon that were observed in the church a lot (cf. Acts 10:30; 13:1–3; 14:23). Psychologists teach such methods as meditation, mindfulness, breathing, and so on. These are grounding techniques when, in a moment of anxiety, someone centers themselves to face whatever worries them. Sometimes, we live in a lane so long that it becomes home, but neuroplasticity suggests that our brain is equipped to rewire itself. Praying the Our Father reminds us that God is outside time and space and greater than us and our worries. Plus, when we pray for his will to be done on earth as in heaven, we must submit to his will, whatever it may be. When we place our worries in the context of prayer and fasting, we give ourselves to God and entrust him in the process. 

We have contrasted riches and necessities. The two are different. If we are fortunate enough to amass wealth, Jesus says, it should be in heaven, where it cannot be destroyed or diluted in value. We are acquisitive by nature. It’s easier to accumulate things than to give them. In high school, I returned home one day—the first to leave and return home—to find the door ajar. I knew I had closed it all the way, but I went in to discover the house ransacked and robbed. My great-grandfather’s 12 gauge shotgun was gone. He used it when he was young, so I prized that possession. That robbery taught me then and there that placing meaning in things is meaningless. The relationship we had and the love we shared were more valuable than the shotgun. It was sentimental, and that’s why the loss hurt so much. However, that taught me not to lay up treasures on earth because thieves break in and steal. 

No matter how much you have, it’s never enough (Eccl. 5:10; cf. 1 Tim. 6:10). No one can serve two masters. No one can serve God and mammon. That word is Aramaic; some translations render it “riches” or “wealth.” The root of the term means “trust” or “reliance.” We cannot trust or rely on stuff against God. This point is no better illustrated than in the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12:13–21). This man did what Jesus warns against here—he “stored” up treasures for himself. The very word Matthew uses as “lay up” (Matt. 6:19–20) appears at the end of this parable (Luke 12:21). Cyril of Alexander (ca. AD 412–444) described being rich toward God as having one’s “hand … open to the needs of the poor, comforting the sorrows of those in poverty according to his means and the utmost of his power. He gathers in storehouses that are above and lays up treasures in heaven” (Luke, Homily 89). Another example of trusting in riches is illustrated differently than the rich young ruler (Matt. 19:16–22).

The relationship of the eye to the soul has been a staple of philosophy for centuries. When I used to live in Central Kentucky, there was an Amish man people went to because he was an iridologist. He could look into your eyes and tell you if you’ve had your gallbladder removed or diagnose other issues you may have. In antiquity, people believed your eyes projected light, hence the eye/lamp connection. We now know that the eye’s receptors convert light into electrical signals that our brains interpret. We’ve heard phrases such as the all-seeing eye, the evil eye, and the stink eye. What is it that we will set our gaze upon? That determines whether it is good or bad. 

Saying not to worry is easier sometimes than actually doing it. If we fast, we won’t worry about food and drink. If we pray, we give our worries to God (cf. Phil. 4:6–7). Paul knew what it was to suffer from want, so he replaced his worry with contentedness (Phil. 4:12–13). In the community of Jesus, we share our bread and drink. We look out for one another to ensure everyone isn’t lacking (Matt. 25:34–45). Plus, when we look at nature, we see that everything is provided for nature, so why wouldn’t we have faith that God will provide for us? Unlike nature, we sow and reap but can learn a lot from it. So, strive for God’s kingdom, and all else falls into place. Years ago, a college student was preparing for a nursing degree, and she was a cheerleader and belonged to a sorority. She hadn’t been at church, so my wife and I met her for lunch, and I told her that if she prioritized God, her worries and pressures would be resolved. It’s human nature to sacrifice Bible study, worship, and fellowship to ensure things are handled. However, when we prioritize them, we are saying to God that he is more important, and we trust that all we have to face is something he will tend to. 

Praised by God, Not By Men (Matt. 6:1-18)

Jesus wants his disciples not to be show-offs. A balance must be struck between personal piety, the salt of the earth, and letting our light shine (Matt. 5:13–16). When we compare these, it all boils down to intention. To be the salt of the earth isn’t to show off but to be a blessing. Just as salt has taste and color affects whatever it touches when used. It can preserve, melt, season, and other such things. By being what we are, we are meant to be a blessing by being that salt. Just as there are various uses for salt, so there is for light. Many of us remember that plants require light to grow. Solar panels harness direct sunlight’s power, which can be stored in batteries. My house has several solar paneled motion lights and string lights. The string lights illuminate every night around our deck, and whenever the dog or someone walks by the motionlights, it illuminates. It’s very dark in the country, and these lights are helpful and cheaper than running electricity everywhere. You may have heard that darkness is the absence of light. When God ordered the cosmos, he commanded light as the first act of creation (Gen. 1:3).  When the final, heavenly Jerusalem appears, there will be no more night (Rev. 22:5). We’re told to let our light shine so that our good works are seen, and we glorify our heavenly Father. Where’s the balance?

Jesus mentions almsgiving, prayer, and fasting as three areas of piety. He stresses that we do things to be rewarded by our Father and not people (Matt. 6:3–4, 6, 18). So, here are the two areas of tension that will be resolved by noting the intention. Here’s an example that helps me: let’s say you’re out to eat at a restaurant. When your food comes, you and your family bow your heads and offer a prayer. You’re not doing it for attention but to give thanks. That’s letting your light shine because, let’s say, an elderly couple walks by and commends you for that, saying it’s nice to see a young family give thanks without shame. Your light has shone, but you have done it not for praise but out of personal devotion and commitment to God. On the other hand, if you prayed so loud that everyone around you was forced to notice, that’s not good, and the showing off is of concern here. In closing chapter five, Jesus said to be perfect as our Father is, so the instructions that came before and follow that statement show us how to do that. Our word, translated as “perfect,” doesn’t mean “without fault.” I advocate that it should be translated as “complete.” At least, that’s how we’d understand it today.  

The conclusion of intention is shown in each example. In almsgiving, don’t blow the trumpet (Matt. 6:2). In prayer, it’s to be seen by men (Matt. 6:5). With fasting, it’s appearing to men (Matt. 6:16). This is the motivation of the hypocrites. They want to be seen. However, as this chapter closes, we seek God’s kingdom and righteousness first (Matt. 6:33). The law made caring for the poor a central command (Deut. 15:11). What’s interesting is that the term translated “almsgiving” is tzadik. The word for righteousness is tzedakah, which shows the relationship between the two. Doing it for public recognition should not be our motivation. What we give isn’t so much a matter as well, but how we give (cf. Mark 12:41–44). 

Similar sentiments could be said of prayer. This doesn’t rebuke corporate prayer because that’s commanded (1 Tim. 2:1–3) and observed in the early church (Acts 12:5, 12). The emphasis should be on God and not the one praying. Sometimes, people use prayers as sermon times. They give a little sermon for those listening more so than addressing God himself. So, Jesus identifies the praying person who wants to be seen; then, he points out the one who uses vain repetitions. 

The Gemara asks: And one who prolongs his prayer; is that a virtue? … Anyone who prolongs his prayer and expects it to be answered, will ultimately come to heartache … How does he prolong his prayer? By increasing his supplication. (B. Ber. 55a)

A professor once corrected me in a paper by telling me to stop bloviating. I looked the word up because I didn’t know what it meant. Essentially, use fewer words rather than extra unnecessary words. Don’t say in fifty words what can be said in ten. This is why the disciples ask Jesus to teach them how to pray. Rabbis often gave their disciples prayers to pray verbatim. In the early church, the Lord’s Prayer was to be prayed thrice daily (Didache 8.2–3). The Psalms are also a good blueprint. Fasting is also to be private. This religious devotion was associated with mourning, repentance, discipline, or waiting upon the Lord. 

Jesus’ View of the Law and Murder (Matt. 5:17-26)

Rumors had undoubtedly circulated about Jesus’ view on the Law and Prophets—two of the three divisions of the Hebrew Scriptures; the last is the Psalms. The Law entails the first five books of the Bible. We usually only think of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and the like regarding the prophets. However, Joshua, Judges, the books of Samuel, and the Kings are considered former prophets in Jewish circles. He spoke of it with great reverence since Jesus and his disciples were living under the law. The “jot” is the Hebrew yod, and the tittle is the extension of the dalet when compared with the resh or vav. Any minor alteration in the law could have changed the meaning, so scribes were meticulous to preserve the text. No matter how insignificant someone believes it is, every part is meaningful. We can learn much from Jesus’ regard for the law, which should also inform how we view Scripture. We can also look at his call to righteousness in one of two ways: denigrating the scribes and Pharisees or as a high bar. There is an element of the former, but the latter seems to be more accurate. 

In Jesus’ commentary on the law, he says, “You have heard it said,” and then follows up with, “But I say to you.” We see this six times in the remainder of chapter five. The first commandment he addresses is murder. There’s a difference between murder, killing, manslaughter, and justice. Murder is premeditated with malicious intent. Even the commandment in Hebrew reads, “You shall do no murder.” If I were to strike a pedestrian with my truck because they ran in front of me and they died, I would not have murdered them. However, if I see this person and target them, then that’s murder. Were I negligible in hitting them, say because I was inebriated, I could be charged with manslaughter. When the state executes a criminal, it’s supposed to be in the name of justice, and murder was a capital offense (cf. Num. 35:16–18). The murderer being put to death is justice and not another murder or killing. What’s interesting, though, is how God protects Cain after he murdered Abel and Moses after he killed the Egyptian. 

Words matter, and “murder” is the appropriate term in both Greek and Hebrew. Yet, Jesus takes it farther than murder. He builds a hedge around the commandment, much like rabbis in his time. He begins with anger and progresses to insults—something that could be a legal offense.  Depending on your translation, you may have the wording as having anger “without a cause.” Most translations, if they don’t include the phrase, have some sort of note ascribing it to some ancient manuscripts. The earliest manuscript of Matthew 5:22 is dated between AD 125–50 and is designated as the Barcelona papyrus (P67). This fragment doesn’t contain the phrase “without a cause.” Two other manuscripts contain it—Coptic and Old Syriac (third–fourth centuries). Its appearance or disappearance doesn’t affect the overall meaning of our faith. Jesus teaches us to rid our lives of anger if it’s excluded. If it does appear, we later read how to handle someone we may be angry with in the following verses (cf. Matt. 18:15–17). 

A person becomes angry with another, then begins to insult them, and they call them the worst thing imaginable in that culture (cf. Eph. 4:29–32). The progression builds up to murder, which is why Jesus begins with anger. Rather than getting that far, Jesus urges reconciliation before worship, possibly alluding to Cain and Abel. Jews taught that you had to seek peace with your neighbors before reconciliation with God (Prov. 6:1–5). Today, however, most Christians give this no mind. If you’re offended, you just go somewhere else. Sometimes, people may not even know that you feel wronged. Meanwhile, you carry the weight of the hurt, expecting the offender to lift it when they might be clueless. In his context, Jesus urged reconciliation, and Paul urged suffering wrongdoing rather than seeking retribution (cf. 1 Cor. 6:1–6). Please remember that the context is within the community of faith (church), as indicated by the term “ brother.”

Ancient Interpretations (Romans 10:9–13)

When studying a passage, I enjoy reading commentaries, word studies, and other research materials. Yet, I’ve learned to also consult Christians who lived closer to the time of Jesus than the scholars and commentators who give us great work. Neither the early church leaders nor modern scholars are always right, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t get anything right.

Some good neighbors instruct a person to be saved using Romans 10:9–13, and they even use this passage and say, “Invite Jesus into your heart,” or, “Pray the sinner’s prayer.” Allow me to say that I don’t question a person’s sincerity in their beliefs. As the late Antonin Scalia once said, “I attack ideas. I don’t attack people. Some very good people have some very bad ideas.” Neither the sinner’s prayer nor asking Jesus into your heart is in the Bible. This notion can be traced back to Billy Graham popularizing it in his crusades.

Historian Thomas Kidd traces it back to Anglo-American Puritans in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The Puritan devotional writer John Flavel spoke of those who heard the gospel but would “receive not Christ into their hearts.” Thomas Boston, a Scottish Calvinist, encouraged Christians to take communion to receive “Christ into their hearts.” Benjamin Colman wrote in the early eighteenth century that Christians should “receive Christ into their hearts and hold him forth in their lives.” The phraseology became more and more formalized as time passed.

How should this passage be interpreted? Let’s ask some ancient Christians. While many have commentaries on this passage, I want to introduce you to Augustine. Augustine lived from the middle of the fourth century into the fifth century. He was a rather worldly fellow until he heard the preaching of Ambrose of Milan. Ambrose communicated the gospel in a way that appealed to Augustine because the sinner was also a philosopher and very intelligent. Most of the preachers he heard preached so simply that it turned him away, but Ambrose helped him. Later on, Augustine would become the bishop of Hippo (now Algeria). Western civilization owes a lot to Augustine. He lived to see the fall of the Roman Empire, and his writings have shaped much of Western civilization.

In his writing entitled The Christian Life, Augustine writes, “This condition is fulfilled at the time of baptism when faith and profession of faith are all that is demanded for one to be baptized.” Just as we do today, we ask for their confession before baptizing someone. They confess that they believe that Jesus is the Son of God. We also see it in verses such as Acts 2:21, 9:14, 22:16, and 1 Corinthians 1:2 in one form or another.

The Frequency With Which We Partake of the Lord’s Supper (i.e., Communion, Eucharist)

One unique feature of Christ’s Church compared to many other fellowships is the weekly observance of the Lord’s Supper. Many others take it daily (Catholic Church), while some observe it quarterly or on “holidays” (e.g., Easter, Christmas). Nevertheless, the weekly observance is observable when looking at Scripture and early church history. The book of James is likely the earliest written letter of the New Testament (AD 45–48), but 1 Corinthians, written in AD 55, contains the earliest description of a worship service (1 Cor. 11–16). From that passage, we can draw out what they did by how Paul rebukes them for not doing it correctly. 

In 1 Cor. 11:17–18, Two phrases stick out in this passage: 1) “when you come together” in verse seventeen, and 2) “when you come together as a church” in verse eighteen. The phrases “coming together” (1 Corinthians 11:20) and “same place” are most often to be understood as the worship assembly unless the immediate context determines otherwise. We see a variant of these phrases in 1 Corinthians 14:23—“If, therefore, the whole church comes together …” A rather famous passage used of Christian worship in this respect is Hebrews 10:25, “Not neglecting to meet together …” 1 Cor. 11:20 explained the purpose of their coming together—the Lord’s Supper. Who partook? The church, or Christians (1 Cor. 11:22; cf. 12:13). Paul spoke of Christians, not visitors or outsiders. His entire discourse in chapter 12 was regarding the body, the church. Prophecy and the speaking of tongues that he spent so much time on would have been their equivalent of our modern notion of preaching since they were revelatory (1 Cor. 13:1–2, 8–9; 14:1–5). Prayer and singing are next mentioned. Each of these was followed by a congregational “Amen” (1 Cor. 14:14–16; cf. v. 26). At the portion of the worship where praying, singing, and preaching occurred, we read of visitors being present in the assembly (1 Cor. 14:23–24).

We note from 1 Cor. 14:33–35 that women were to have been silent in teaching/preaching since Paul was coming off the heels of speaking about preaching (1 Cor. 14:27–32). This may reflect his earlier mentioned women praying and prophesying (1 Cor. 11:5). Some people say this was a command only for the Corinthians. However, Paul told the Corinthians other things he told all the other churches (1 Cor. 4:17; 7:17; 14:33; 16:1). Paul takes a momentary detour and talks at length about the resurrection in 1 Cor. 15. However, he twice notes that the things he speaks of were “according to the Scriptures,” which suggests that the Scriptures (likely the OT) were read during the assembly as well (1 Cor. 15:3–4). Finally, in 1 Cor. 16:1–3, he mentions a contribution for the relief of those in Jerusalem that was to have been collected “on the first day of the week.” Some versions insert the term “every,” but it’s not present in the Greek, though Paul might have meant it. Everything he mentioned from 1 Cor. 11:17–18 are the “acts of worship.” There was the Lord’s Supper, preaching, praying, singing, Scripture reading, and a collection. We mention the five acts of worship, but there are six here when you account for Scripture reading. This was done, according to 1 Cor. 16:2, “on the first day of the week.”

Another passage regarding the weekly partaking of the Lord’s Supper is in Acts 20:7–12. This passage implies that they broke bread on the first day of the week or Sunday. The Sabbath was the last day of the week, the seventh day of the week. Along with this supper was the proclamation of the word. Luke writes as if his audience is aware of the custom, so he doesn’t go into detail but mentions what they did. 

Even in Christian history, we see a weekly observance. In a writing that was likely written around the same time as 1 Corinthians or thereabouts, we read, “Having earlier confessed your sins so that your sacrifice may be pure, come together each Lord’s day of the Lord, break bread, and give thanks.” (Didache 14). Often referred to as “breaking bread,” the Lord’s Supper was under discussion here since the author(s) mentioned it only a few verses earlier.  

Even 100 years later, Justin Martyr wrote to the Emperor a defense of Christianity called his 1 Apology, in which he describes the weekly Christian worship meeting. 

Having ended the prayers, we salute one another with a kiss. There is then brought to the president of the brethren bread and a cup of wine mixed with water; and he taking them, gives praise and glory to the Father of the universe, through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, and offers thanks at considerable length for our being counted worthy to receive these things at His hands. And when he has concluded the prayers and thanksgivings, all the people present express their assent by saying Amen. This word Amen answers in the Hebrew language to γένοιτο [so be it]. And when the president has given thanks, and all the people have expressed their assent, those who are called by us deacons give to each of those present to partake of the bread and wine mixed with water over which the thanksgiving was pronounced, and to those who are absent they carry away a portion. And this food is called among us Εὐχαριστία [the Eucharist], of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined … And on the day called Sunday, all who live in cities or in the country gather together to one place, and the memoirs of the apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits; then, when the reader has ceased, the president verbally instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all rise together and pray, and, as we before said, when our prayer is ended, bread and wine and water are brought, and the president in like manner offers prayers and thanksgivings, according to his ability, and the people assent, saying Amen; and there is a distribution to each, and a participation of that over which thanks have been given, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And they who are well to do, and willing, give what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the president, who succours the orphans and widows and those who, through sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds and the strangers sojourning among us, and in a word takes care of all who are in need. But Sunday is the day on which we all hold our common assembly, because it is the first day. on which God, having wrought a change in the darkness and matter, made the world; and Jesus Christ our Saviour on the same day rose from the dead.

1 Apology 64-66

By the fourth century, it was observed daily. The medieval church required penance before taking it, so many believers only took it annually, the absolute minimum permitted by the clergy. This was right before the Reformation. “The Lord’s Table should have been spread at least once a week for the assembly of Christians, and the promises declared in it should feed us spiritually” (Calvin, Inst., 4.17.46; c. 1536). The powers-that-be in Geneva, where Calvin reformed, were unwilling for the Reformation to go this far, but they permitted it to be taken four times a year. This is why many Protestant churches observe it as infrequently as they do, while the ancient Christians observe it weekly.

Now, infrequency will not make it more meaningful as much as weekly partaking makes it less significant. God has given the supper its meaning, and nothing can change that. Moreover, why not only give once a quarter or have the preacher deliver a sermon only infrequently? If someone finds it too familiar, that’s a heart problem, not the observation. We partake in the manner of our forebearers because they, having the apostles of Jesus, were so instructed.

Early Christianity on Abortion & Exposure of Children

What we must admit is that there are no clearly stated prohibitions against abortion in the New Testament. However, early Christianity—having itself consisted of Jewish adherents to the Way in the first decade after Christ’s ascension— continued to adopt their moral understanding of various issues from Judaism. We, first, look the Jewish historian, Josephus (c. 37–100 CE) and what he wrote about the Jewish prohibition against abortion. It was a prohibition according to Jewish law.

The law, moreover enjoins us to bring up all our offspring, and forbids women to cause abortion of what is begotten, or to destroy it afterward; and if any woman appears to have so done, she will be a murderer of her child, by destroying a living creature, and diminishing humankind: if anyone, therefore, proceeds to such fornication or murder, he cannot be clean.

(Against Apion 2.202)

The Ten Commandments were used by early Christians just as they were by Jews—as teachings that pertained to moral living. Notably, the sixth commandment, “You shall not murder,” was given a greater exposition in Christian thinking and applied specifically to the termination of a pregnancy. When in the late first, early second century, a document known as Didache was written, attention turned to the sixth commandment and stated, “You shall not murder … you shall not engage in sorcery; you shall not abort a child or commit infanticide” (2.2). This document understood the sixth commandment as extending to the unborn. The reason I included “sorcery” as a part of this understanding is that the Greek term translated “sorcery” is the word from which we get “pharmacy.” Therefore, “sorcery” here likely included taking abortifacients—drugs that induced miscarriage. Our modern understanding of the sixth commandment was clearly understood as extending to the life of the unborn.

Also in keeping with the Mosaic Law, the paths of life and death (Deuteronomy 27–28) are recast as darkness and light in another early Christian writing.

But the path of darkness is crooked and full of cursing, for it is the path of eternal death and punishment, in which way are the things that destroy the soul …  Here are they who are persecutors of the good, haters of truth, lovers of lies; they who know not the reward of righteousness, who cleave not to what is good nor unto just judgment … murderers of children.

(Epistle of Barnabas 20.1–2)

Christian writers believed that life in the womb was no different than life outside it. Clement of Alexandria (c. 160–215 CE) inferred from Luke 1:41 when John leaped in Elizabeth’s womb that very belief (Instructor 2.10.96). Athenagoras, in the late-second-century, pointed to Christianity’s rejection of abortion as proof that Christians were moral when he wrote that the Christians “say that those women who use drugs to bring on abortion commit murder, and will have to give an account to God for the abortion” (Leg. 35).

Later church councils forbade abortion and actually levied punishments against any who murdered their unborn. The Council of Elvira (c. 4th century) reflects such beliefs.

If a woman conceives in adultery and then has an abortion, she may not commune again, even as death approaches, because she has sinned twice. (Canon 63)

A catechumen who conceives in adultery and then suffocates the child may be baptized only when death approaches. (Canon 68)

Even some of the most notable early church theologians supported this stance. Both Augustine (c. 354–430) and John Chrysostom (c. 347–407) viewed abortion as murder, and exposure—abortion’s ugly cousin—was no less an evil.

Moses’ Law encouraged caring for orphans (Exodus 22:22–24; Deuteronomy 14:29).[1] God administered justice for orphans, so Israel was not to pervert justice towards them (Deuteronomy 10:18; cf. 24:17; 27:19). The Essenes—a Jewish sect that lived around the Dead Sea in the first century CE—were known for taking them in and caring for them. Their community resembled a modern idea of a monastery in that everything was common property. Josephus records that they would take in children not their own because they did not wed, and they would care for those children and teach them their ways (Wars 2.8.2).

I don’t wish to enter into a discussion about the legitimacy of orphanages or children’s homes, but the order of widows cared for orphans as a part of their ecclesial duties.[2] Theologically, caring for orphans is missional in its practice. Even Jesus was adopted by Joseph, and Christ identified Himself with the “least of these my brothers” (Matthew 25:40). To care for orphans is to see Christ in the orphan as one of the least of those in society. As Christians, we have been adopted into God’s family. We are orphans made children by adoption through Christ (Romans 8:15, 23).[3]

A testimony of early church history also demonstrates that such were cared for by Christians. The late first-century bishop, Clement of Rome wrote, “Let the [elders] be compassionate and merciful to everyone—bringing back those who wander, visiting all the sick, and not neglecting the widow, the orphan, or the poor.” The second-century Greek apologist, Aristides, wrote that Christians “do not turn away their care from widows, and they deliver the orphan from anyone who treats him harshly.” The second-century Christian work, Shepherd of Hermas, noted, “Therefore, instead of lands, buy afflicted souls, according as each one is able. And visit widows and orphans.”[4]

Christianity’s stances on exposure led to a shift in Roman law in later years.[5] By 374 CE, one could incur a penalty for exposing a child. Obviously, by this time, Constantine had reigned and obliterated the persecution of Christians with Christianity later becoming the state religion in the Roman Empire. This elevation of the faith was good in some respects but bad in others. The good that came from the legalization of Christianity and its adoption as the state religion was that Christian theology began to have a say in legal matters.

The Cappadocian Fathers of the fourth century, as well as Latin theologians, helped shape the thinking of the Empire with some of them even having strong connections in government, For example, the Cappadocian Father, Basil the Great was familiar with Julian the Apostate since the two had been educated together. These two figures began competing, Basil through Christianity and Julian through the pagan rites, to win the hearts of people to their respective faiths. By this time, however, paganism had little influence but Christianity flourished.

With abortion as with exposure, while a rather defined orthodoxy was to not abort or expose children, not all Christians were blameless in these areas. Christians both participated in aborting unborn and exposing newly born infants.[6] One may wonder why these unique features taught in Christianity were violated by adherents to the faith. After all, wouldn’t that make these unique features unworthy of the world? Would it not nullify the faith of Christ itself and might we be justified in labeling those who did such “hypocrites?” The frustration is inevitable. However, there is no excuse for why Christians did such things.

I might remind the reader that many of the writings that comprise the New Testament were written as reactionary letters to communities of faith who were skating perilously close to an edge of heresy or infidelity to God. Christians are no different from any other person or group of people. We have our trials and temptations. We try rather hard to weather the storms, but despite our profession of faith, we still sin. It may be with a purpose that Christians sin, and sometimes it may be accidental. We still sin. However, the lives we are supposed to live are to be mirrored after that of Christ Himself. Yet, we often fall short. The early Christians did, and we still do today. If we can but recapture the uniqueness of our faith once again, perhaps we’ll be able to make the kind of changes that those believers did in their own time

[1] The Hebrew term often translated as “fatherless child” in the NKJV is elsewhere translated as “orphan” (cf. Lamentations 5:3; Malachi 3:5), so when I mention orphan and you reference the passage to find the translation as “fatherless child,” I’ve referenced from the Hebrew and not the English. Interestingly enough, many passages where “orphan” appears also has “widow” in the same verse or immediate context. At other places, “stranger” appears alongside them both. The point being that God cares for those most vulnerable to abuse in society. It must be mentioned that the Thebans outlawed exposure, but allowed the sale of children. This is the only recorded government, alongside the practice of Jews and Christians, to have taken a rather different approach for the newborn when compared to the rest of the ancient world.

[2] See Michael J. Gorman, Abortion and the Early Church: Christian, Jewish and Pagan Attitudes in the Greco-Roman World (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 1982).

[3] Russell D. Moore, “Abba Changes Everything: Why Every Christian Is Called to Rescue Orphans,” Christianity Today 54, no. 7 (July 2010): 18–22.

[4] David W. Bercot, ed., A Dictionary of Early Christian Beliefs, s.v. “Orphans and Widows,” 1998.

[5] See Joshua C. Tate, “Christianity and the Legal Status of Abandoned Children in the Later Roman Empire,” Journal of Law and Religion 24, no. 1 (2008/09): 123–41.

[6] Everett Ferguson, Thinking-Living-Dying: Early Apologists Speak to the 21st Century (Vienna: Warren Christian Apologetics Center, 2011), 27, 29.

When John Received the Revelation

Years ago, in my first ministry, I was mid-stride of my sermon on a Sunday evening when I noticed that one of my elders, an elderly man, was head-back, mouth-opened, and, to me, looked dead. “What do I do? What if he’s dead? What if he isn’t dead? All these questions ran through my mind as my cadence slowed. What made matters worse, he couldn’t hear thunderclap if it were right on top of him. What was I to do? As I continued preaching, I happened upon a point in my sermon that I could build. Nay, I could crescendo! For those unaware, a crescendo is when in music, the score may start soft, or piano, and build and build. My voice built and built as with passion, I preached the Word! Nothing. “Oh no, he’s died in worship!” I thought. What could be worse? Do I stop preaching and point this out? His wife was right beside him but so fixed on what I was saying she didn’t even notice. “I know: I’ll pound on the pulpit!” As I’d reached the heights of my vocal projection, I worked in a timely “pound!” on the pulpit like a gospel preacher of old. Slowly, he revived. “He’s not dead! Thank you, God!!!”  

You could ask any preacher about the things they’ve seen from the pulpit, and you’ll hear some exciting stories. Some would be funny, others just sad. Imagine, however, you’re on an island in worship one Sunday, and God gives you a revelation. This is what happened to John the Divine, as he’s later called in church history. Tradition has it that John worshipped in a cave which is today referred to as The Cave of the Apocalypse, a popular pilgrimage site for those who would visit Greece. When he received his vision, John is reported to have dictated it to Prochorus, his disciple, and one of the first seven deacons from Acts 6:5. What was John doing when he received this Revelation? Was he alone or with other Christians? These are all questions that interest us, and some to which we have nothing but to speculate, so we’ll stick with what we know.    

Setting the Scene  

We know that John was on the island of Patmos when he received the Revelation (1:9). How he came to be there isn’t altogether clear, but the most plausible explanation has been that he was sent to the island due to his evangelistic endeavors, which were perceived as a threat to the Roman Empire. One might wonder how the good news of Jesus might appear to threaten the mighty Roman Empire, but such a query is quickly answered by the fact that preaching Christ as Lord as much pitted Him against Caesar (Acts 17:7). The conversion of citizens amounted to an uprising, so the leaders of Christians, among whom was John, were targeted with the hopes that the movement would be quelled.  

We know that political opponents, or those out of favor with Caesar, were often exiled (Tacitus, Ann. 14.50; 15.71), and many have offered that Patmos was one such island to which they were sent, the Apostle John himself being one.1 That it was the apostle and not some other John that wrote the work is attested to as early as 166 CE by Justin Martyr (Trypho 81.15).2 Irenaeus, in 202 CE, offered that John received his revelation “towards the end of Domitian’s reign”3—which was from 81–96 CE. If this is, in fact, accurate as many scholars suggest it is, we have a general time frame in which to set the writing, which may explain much of the material contained therein.4 Domitian was hostile to not only Christians, history records, but to even several senatorial families—murdering and exiling a number of them. This eventually led to his assassination and a formal condemnation from the senate, but, first, let’s back up a little farther.  

The first formal Emperor of Rome, Augustus, undertook many religious reforms that resulted in an exaltation of the emperor cult. All first-century emperors favored it too, and Caligula, Nero, and Domitian provoked marks of adoration. Domitian insisted on having the title Dominus et Deus (“Lord and God”). Such worship proved one’s loyalty to the emperor as well as the wellbeing of Rome herself, and where of all places was the most robust center of the imperial cult but in Asia—the very place where John addressed the Revelation. In the ancient world, Asia had been the epicenter of emperor worship since Augustus, and these issues are likely what prompted the persecution and Revelation of John to surface.5  

We know where John was—in exile on Patmos—and we now turn to what he was doing when the Revelation came: he was ministering to the Lord, likely through prayer (Rev. 1:10; cf. Acts 13:1–3). Why do we surmise that he was ministering to the Lord? Because he notes that it occurred on the Lord’s Day or Sunday as we’d call it.6 On any given Sunday, Christians assembled to worship God. Since John was in exile, he might have only been with a small group, so the formal assembly, as we regard it, was somewhat absent. John, nevertheless, was still capable of worshiping God and while exiled and in worship, he likely was facing East as was the custom of the Jews and early Christians, and he “came to be in the Spirit” (cf. Acts 10:10; 22:17). John uses this phrase four times altogether in the Revelation: here in 1:10, when he’s taken to see the heavenly throne in 4:2, the prostitute Babylon in 17:3, and the New Jerusalem in 21:10. These visions follow the motif of Ezekiel, who also in exile received visions (Ezek. 11:24; 37:1).  

 What John Gave Us  

The next question is what John gave us: a blueprint of the end times as some believed? Or a message to those in the first century that they clearly would have understood? I certainly favor the latter. John told us at the very beginning what he was giving us: a book of prophecy (Rev. 1:3; cf. 22:7, 10, 18–19). In the first century, we know that prophets were in the church because they are listed second behind only the apostles who were heads of the church on earth in the Lord’s place (cf. 1 Cor. 12:28; Eph. 4:11). John makes reference to the prophets several times in this letter (Rev. 10:7; 16:6; 18:20, 24; 22:6, 9). Since John gave a book of prophecy, though confusing it may be at times, we must treat it as we would any other book of prophecy: historically and literarily.  

On the Western Front during the Great War, the allies were struggling against the Germans. Germany had tapped the allies’ phone lines and was able to break their codes. As American forces are working on a solution, a captain heard two of his soldiers speaking in a strange language. These two soldiers were Choctaw, and they were speaking their mother language. When the captain confronted them, they probably thought they were in trouble because, at the time, such was actually forbidden. They could have been sent to a reeducation program to rid them of using that mother language, but the captain figured that if he couldn’t understand them, then the Germans wouldn’t be able to either. As it turned out, the Germans couldn’t break the code. The war ended not too long after using the Choctaw Code Talkers, and in WWII, the Navajo Code Talkers would take center stage.  

Similar to how the Germans couldn’t break the Choctaw code, understanding Revelation is somewhat of a mystery. Because the visions are so mesmerizing and overwhelming shouldn’t mean that we should make the book say something it doesn’t. John inasmuch told us that these things were “signified” (Rev. 1:1). I know folks hold sincerely held beliefs about this speaking about the end times and the signs of the times, but here’s a reality we must face: we cannot use this book to determine when Jesus will come, because no one knows (Acts 1:7; 1 Thess. 5:2; 2 Peter 3:10). What we know with certainty is that Jesus will come, and when He does, we best be ready.