Tag: Christianity

Intro to 1 Peter

Writing from Rome (which he calls “Babylon” in 5:13), along with John, Mark, Peter addresses a network of churches that comprises modern-day Turkey. Early church writers made explicit citations of 1 Peter as early as the 90s AD, through to the latter part of the second century, which attests to the authority of the letter as well as its apostolicity. How the gospel came to be in this area isn’t altogether clear, but we know that Jewish believers from some of these areas were present on Pentecost (Acts 2:8–11). Additionally, Emperor Claudius (AD 41–54) established Roman colonies in these regions.

One central question is who the audience was: Jewish, Gentile, or both. The descriptor of “pilgrims of the Dispersion” was typically how Jewish exiles from Judea were addressed (cf. James 1:1). There are also further descriptors such as “Sarah’s children” (1 Peter 3:6), “God’s elect” (1 Peter 1:1, 2, 4, 9) and those called to holiness (1 Peter 1:15–16). They are also contrasted with Gentiles (1 Peter 2:12; 4:3), but by this time, all Christians might have been considered as one with Jewish believers, and the Gentiles were non-Christians. However, we also know that Peter was an apostle to the circumcised (Gal. 2:9), and readers from Eusebius in the fourth century to John Calvin agree that the primary audience is Jewish Christians. Still, some descriptors indicate pagans were among the audience (1 Peter 1:14, 18; 2:9–10, 25; 4:3), but prophetic language sometimes regarded apostate Israelites as pagans. We can assume there’s a mixture and that this letter would not have been sectarian or racially distinguishing between believers in Jesus (cf. Rom. 8:29–30).

The entirety of the letter addresses their suffering, which was likely caused by social scorn, shaming, slander, and stigma. They were likely viewed as social deviants and may have faced verbal and physical pressure to return to the norm. Given that Christianity grew out of Judaism, we can look to history to see how Jews were viewed to get a picture of how these Christians were regarded. Rome banished Jews on some occasions. There was a time when Tiberius was emperor, and again during Claudius’ reign. Claudius viewed them with animosity from the beginning of his reign. When Christianity was young, Jews were expelled from Rome. In Christianity’s earliest decades, it bore no outward distinction from Judaism as perceived by the Romans. The Jews were expelled at the instigation of “Chrestus,” according to Suetonius. 

When Diodorus wrote about Antiochus Epiphanes subduing the Jews, he referred to their customs as “wicked.” Cicero also viewed the Jews as enemies because of their behavior when they assembled. They showed no regard for the interests or laws of the Republic, and that won them no favor with Rome. Because they wanted to keep Judea pure from Roman occupation and rule, they resisted Rome. Their actions were rebellious and drew attention to the Jewish religion as the source of their unruliness and eventual disdain by the Romans. Horace believed that they were manipulative and coercive. He viewed them as always proselytizing and forcing others to join their religion. Because they proselytized, many were Jews by conversion rather than birth.  Furthermore, they believed in silly superstitions and were weaker because of their Sabbath keeping. Juvenal viewed their Sabbath keeping as idleness. Their customs were “base and abominable,” and they were the worst villains among all other peoples. As a race, they were believed to have been a curse to others, and Moses, their lawmaker, was detested. While many Jews upheld practices that distinguished them from other people, those who observed them wrote about the Jews’ hypocrisy in doing some of the very things that they seemed opposed to otherwise. If early Christians were treated anything like Jews, we get but a glimpse of it in this letter. Peter urges them to identify with Christ’s suffering (1 Peter 4:12–16) and await eternal glory (1 Peter 1:7; 2:11; 4:13; 5:4, 10–11). 

Works Referenced

 Acts 18:2; Suet. Claud. 25.4.

 Diodorus, Bibl. Hist. 34.1.3.

 Cicero, Flacc. 28.66–69.

 Horace, Sat. 1.4.142–3; cf. Matt. 23:15.

 Acts 2:10; 13:43. Cf. Juvenal, Sat. 14.102–03. A Gentile could become Jewish by circumcision, immersion, and a sacrifice (Keritot 9a; cf. Pesahim 8.8; Exod. 24:8).However, Gentile conversion was not always welcomed and in some cases was even rejected.

Juvenal, Sat. 1.5.100. To the Roman mind, anything other than what had been appointed at the founding of Rome was “vile and alien” (Livy 39.15.3). See also Juvenal, Sat. 15.1–13.

 Juvenal, Sat. 14.96, 105–06.

 Tacitus, Hist. 5.5.

 Quintilian, Inst. 3.7.21.

A Reversal of Fortunes (Esther 5-7)

After three days of fasting, Esther presents herself to the king. Unlike Mordecai, she wears her royal robes. The royal palace of Susa has been excavated, and the audience hall was over 350 feet square and divided into several chambers. Whatever separated them for thirty days, the king looks favorably upon her. Banquets figure into this story a lot. It began with a banquet that evolved into a second one, where the king grew upset with his queen. Esther’s banquet is already prepared in anticipation of a positive answer, and this will lead to a second banquet where the king’s ire turns to his right-hand man, Haman. The Greeks observed that the Persians made most of their important decisions while drunk, and when they drank wine, Ahasuerus asked what Esther requested. 

Haman is touched to be included, but his delight turns to rage when Mordecai refuses to stand when he walks by. Haman goes so far as to state his extensive wealth, sons, and the king’s esteem as prizes he possesses. However, the one thing that means the most to him is what Mordecai won’t give—homage. When is it enough? So what if that one guy doesn’t do what you want him to do? You even stated all you have, so take the wins and move on. Psychologists would say that Haman is a narcopath. “A ‘narcopath’ is a term sometimes used to describe individuals who display a combination of narcissistic and sociopathic traits, characterized by grandiosity, lack of empathy, a need for admiration, and manipulative, antisocial behavior,” according to Google’s AI overview. 

As the story progresses, the king’s sleepless night works to Mordecai’s favor. Haman has spikes prepared to impale him. Meanwhile, the king reads the annals and he hears what Mordecai had done and wishes to reward him, so since Haman was on his way to ask this of the king, he is selected to give the king’s honors to Mordecai. Because he’s so self-absorbed, he thinks the king is talking about Haman when he asks what shall be done for whom the king wishes to honor. Haman’s plan, which he believed to be for himself, is charged with implementing it on the man he hates. 

At the second banquet, the king asks her request, and Esther finally discloses that she is Jewish. As an alternative to being slaughtered, she uses the price Haman offered against him by saying that they could have been sold into slavery. After all, they were conquered by the Babylonians, who then fell to the Persians. Slaves were often composed of conquered people, and Haman has already referred to them as rebellious (Esth. 3:8). Haman either falls on the couch or the queen. Whatever it was, his actions were seen as an assault on the queen. Assyrian law prohibited coming closer than seven paces of the king’s harem, so something like this may have been in mind. Before the Japanese surrendered in WWII, it was prohibited for anyone to walk on the Emperor’s shadow. To try to lie with the queen, which he is accused of, is to lay claim to the throne too. Ahasueras feels betrayed by his most trusted minister. Neither knew of Esther’s ethnicity, but the king expected that Haman should have. 

For Such a Time as This (Esther 4)

Now that news of the impending slaughter has made its way around, Mordecai displays grief in a standard way in antiquity. Sackloth is a rough, coarse material that was uncomfortable to wear. Grief was often expressed in dramatic ways, such as wearing this garment, rolling in ashes, or placing ashes on the head. Mordecai cries bitterly while Jews throughout the empire add fasting. Though prayer to God isn’t outright mentioned, we might assume that it accompanies fasting. Because Persian monarchs were somewhat self-serving, bringing grief to them is prohibited (cf. Neh. 2:2), so Esther sends proper garments so Mordecai can pass through the king’s gate. Yet, he refuses. 

Mordecai’s refusal of appropriate attire brings in an intermediary to go between the adoptive father and daughter. How Mordecai came to learn of the plot has been debated. It was sent throughout the entire empire. Still, one theory suggests that he was a scribe for the palace and translating this in Aramaic gave him firsthand exposure (cf. Esther 8:9–10). Eunuchs weren’t just errand boys for the palace. Many of them were highly educated, so Hathach may have needed to read the edict to a presumably illiterate Esther. 

Knowledge of court practice was widespread. Mordecai likely knew this, and Esther knew that if she went before the king presumptuously, it could end with her death. Her hesitation to do so may indicate that she was no longer in the king’s favor and that by doing so, she was gambling a 50/50 chance. Furthermore, if she does nothing, her head will be on the chopping block. Mordecai expresses his faith when he says that deliverance will arise from elsewhere. He’s most likely acquainted with the promises God made to Abraham, and God will not allow his chosen people to be blotted out from the earth. Mordecai and Esther demonstrate a measure of faith. He believes in God’s promises, and she resigns herself to the possibility of death. At least she can take the shot and try to stop what is inevitable. To further add to this, she asks her countrymen to host a three-day fast in preparation for her actions. 

There are two main lessons from this chapter: 1) speak faith to your problems, and 2) never underestimate your ability to make a change. To the first point, Mordecai believed in God’s promises to Abraham, although this isn’t mentioned in the story, but he was confident that deliverance would come for the Jews. Did he wail and bemoan the state of affairs? Absolutely, but he still spoke faith to his problems. Abraham, likewise, spoke faith to his situation. When God asked him to take Isaac and sacrifice him on Mount Moriah, Abraham told his servants, “The boy and I will go over there; we will worship, and then we will come back to you” (Gen. 22:5). He didn’t know how things would play out, but he trusted God. Even in the face of sacrificing the promised son through whom many would be blessed, he spoke faith in his situation. When Daniel’s three friends were threatened with the fiery furnace, the king asked, “Who is the god that will deliver you out of my hands” (Dan. 3:15). Their reply is an epic example of speaking faith to one’s circumstances. 

O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to present a defense to you in this matter. 17 If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. 18 But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up. (Dan. 3:16–18). 

Adding to this, we can also always take our problems to God. “Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). Speaking faith to your situation, accompanied by prayer, is living by faith, and faith is the victory that overcomes the world (1 John 5:4)

To the second point, Esther initially didn’t believe she could be the difference between annihilation and survival. There are many stories throughout Scripture where one person made a difference. The Ethiopian Eunuch had Phillip; Nineveh had Jonah. Even Peter had Andrew. Andrew is often forgotten because Peter eclipsed him, but Andrew brought his brother to Jesus. Never sell yourself short. We may never know when and how God will use us. 

A New Queen Emerges (Esther 2)

Between Esther I and II, Xerxes unsuccessfully attempted to subdue Greece. With his tail tucked between his legs, he has returned to Persia, and the loss has overshadowed his wrathful feeling born from Vashti. Yet, he returns a king with no queen to greet him. As with Chapter I, advisers urge the king on what to do. Xerxes appears to be a passive king, led by his advisers. A beauty contest will be held to decide who will be the next queen, and she’ll be quartered in the king’s harem. It may seem odd that he wouldn’t take a Persian queen, but it isn’t without precedent—Artaxerxes I and Darius II had Babylonian queens. 

“Mordecai” and “Esther” are Babylonian names; the former is a play on Marduk, and the latter is from Ishtar. Mordecai’s father’s name is Hebrew, so this only shows how much exiled Jews assimilated. This isn’t a statement on their fidelity to God because Daniel and his compatriots were given pagan-based names as well. They may have had Hebrew names used within their Jewish community (Hadassah means “myrtle”). Mordecai’s lineage traces back to Israel’s first king. The term translated as “son” can mean descendant. The author shows us that these two characters belong to a prominent Benjamite family. Mordecai adopted his first cousin, some suggesting he was in his thirties and she was in her late teens. In verse seven, Esther is described precisely how Joseph was (cf. Gen. 39:6). Many similarities exist between Esther and Joseph in the story. For example, their stories are rags-to-riches. They are both attractive Hebrews and find favor with courtiers; they also have archenemies to overcome and reach the inner palace circles. 

The “cosmetics” the women underwent were to make them as unblemished and attractive as possible. Spending a night with the king has its own implications that need not be discussed. Suffice it to say, this was trial by bedding. However, because of who she was and how she was, finding favor with all she encountered won her a king. As the story goes, we’re not told why the two eunuchs became enraged, but their plot is foiled when Mordecai informs the queen of their intentions. These men weren’t “hanged” as we would envision a noose. They were impaled and displayed for the public. 

Esther reminds me of the passage from 1 Peter, “Rather, let your adornment be the inner self with the lasting beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in God’s sight” (3:4). God’s providence is witnessed in this passage: “The King’s heart is in the hand of the LORD, like the rivers of water; He turns it wherever He wishes” (Prov. 21:1). Even though the Persian king doesn’t worship God, it still doesn’t remove him from God’s soverignty. God gave his own people into the hands of the Assyrians, the Babylonians, and the Persians. Even those not necessarily aligned with God can still be used by him. That’s the whole point of Habakkuk—God would use the Babylonians’ swiftness and conquering to humble his people. Yet, because of the Babylonians’ actions, God used the Persians to overcome them. Cyrus the Great was tolerant of other religions and allowed the Jews to return to the Promised Land to rebuild.

A Crisis of Faith that Birthed a Movement

John Wesley was an Anglican priest who traveled to Georgia to evangelize the natives. While en route, the ship encountered a storm that threatened the lives of all souls aboard. Also aboard the vessel were Moravians. This church has its history in Bohemia and Moravia, the present-day Czech Republic (Czechia). In the mid-ninth century, two Greek Orthodox missionaries took the gospel to the area. They also translated Scripture into the people’s language. Still, in the centuries that followed, this area gradually fell under the ecclesiastical jurisdiction of Rome, leading some of the people to protest. John Hus, an admirer of John Wycliffe, led the charge a century before Martin Luther’s reformation. The Moravians were also going to Georgia at the behest of General Oglethorpe’s philanthropic endeavor. As the storm raged, Wesley became increasingly worried about himself. Meanwhile, the Moravians sang hymns throughout the storm, impressing Wesley. Given their calm and worshipful demeanor through the storm, Wesley was convinced that his faith wasn’t as strong as he believed and began to have a crisis of faith. 

When John was at university, he joined a group his brother Charles and some friends founded. They covenanted to lead a holy and sober life, to take communion once per week, to be faithful in private devotions, to visit prisons regularly, and to spend time together each afternoon to study the Bible. John was the only ordained minister in the group, so he often took the lead. Outsiders mocked them as a “holy club” and “methodists.” The young priest doubts his faith in Georgia but keeps doing the work. He returned to England feeling adrift, so he contacted the Moravians, and Peter Boehler became his counselor. Boehler urged him to keep preaching the faith until he had it and to continue preaching once he had it. One night, he was with a group where Luther’s preface to Romans was being read. The reader spoke about the change that God works in the heart through faith in Jesus, and Wesley writes, “I felt my heart strangely warmed. I felt I did trust in Christ, Christ alone for salvation: And an assurance was given me, that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.” The notion of having a “feeling” or warmness of heart is something that is seen at the Cane Ridge Meeting in  1801. In early America, and in the major denominations, one told of their “experience” and were then baptized and accepted as members. This is something that Alexander Campbell would later argue was unbiblical in conversion.

A fellow preacher of Wesley’s, George Whitefield, began preaching in a fiery manner. When he asked Wesley to fill in for him when he went to America, Wesley wasn’t as fiery a preacher as Whitefield. During his preaching, he noticed people moaning and weeping aloud. Others collapsed in anguish. Wesley was more suited to a solemn atmosphere, but he decided that such displays were a struggle between Satan and the Holy Spirit. Wesley was Arminian and not Calvinistic. Whitefield was the latter, so they parted ways, and Wesley remained an Anglican priest, holding meetings outside the worship of the Church of England that became dubbed Methodist. His Methodist meetings were meant to prepare people for Anglican worship and communion. 

Wesley didn’t intend to establish another church, but his followers were organized into societies that met in private homes until they required a building. As the movement grew, they were divided into classes that had eleven members and a leader. They met weekly to read Scripture, pray, discuss religious matters, and collect funds. To be a leader, one didn’t need to have the credentials of an Anglican priest, so it allowed people to serve who otherwise felt unequipped in Anglicanism. However, a few Anglican priests joined over time. Lay preachers became familiar and were seen as God’s answer to the movement’s need for preachers. They didn’t replace clergy and couldn’t offer communion. Wesley held periodic meetings among the priests who had joined and the lay leaders, and this became the Annual Conference, where each was appointed to serve a circuit for three years. English law was changed to allow non-Anglican services and buildings, but they had to be registered. By doing so, it meant that they weren’t Anglican. Wesley reluctantly did so, taking the first legal step of creating a separate church. In the same way that Luther didn’t want to establish a new church but was forced to, so was Wesley.  

After the Revolutionary War, Wesley wanted representatives in the United States, so he appointed Thomas Coke as superintendent—using the word translated as “bishop” for the role. He later sent Francis Asbury, a driving force in spreading Methodism westward into the American frontier. American Methodists became their church because they didn’t feel the need to follow Wesley, so the American church became the Methodist Episcopal Church. Coke and Asbury began calling themselves bishops, contrary to Wesley’s use of “superintendent.” This group merged with the Evangelical United Brethren Church in 1968 to form the United Methodist Church. The Evangelical United Brethren Church rose around the same time as the Methodist Church did in the United States. It was primarily made up of Germans who immigrated to the colonies. Its two heads were Philip William Otterbein (German–Reformed) and Martin Boehm (Mennonite), so two other denominations had united to form the Evangelical United Brethren Church. 

In recent years, the United Methodist Church has split primarily over LGBTQ+ rights. Whether or not to ordain gay clergy and perform same-sex marriages has caused a divide, with many churches buying out of the Methodist Conference. Since 2019, over 7,000 congregations have left the church. That’s about a quarter of all Methodist churches. The debate had been ongoing for a decade as to operating with “inclusion” as a part of their culture while homosexuality had not been congruent with their teachings. Some have remained Methodist but are now Global Methodists, adhering more to the teachings of John Wesley. Others have simply remained autonomous congregations, operating as they see fit.

Not Far Enough for John Smyth

Many didn’t believe the church went far enough when England became Protestant. Those who read Scripture and applied it rather stringently were called Puritans. While some Puritans argued against episcopacy, others saw it as applicable but not divinely ordered. They argued for elders in each congregation; among those who argued for this, some believed congregations should be independent, and they were called Presbyterians. Baptists arose among the independents at the behest of an Anglican priest, John Smyth. Because of their views, they were persecuted by Mary Tudor, which led to their exile in Amsterdam. 

While in Amsterdam, Smyth studied Scripture and determined that infant baptism was invalid, so he took a bucket and ladle and poured water over his head and that of his followers. The early custom of the Baptists wasn’t immersion but pouring over a believer’s head. Returning to England, they established the first Baptist Church in 1612. Two schools of thought arose between Baptists—many agreed with John Calvin’s doctrine of predestination. Others followed the belief of Jacobus Arminius, who rejected predestination and advocated that God had limited control concerning man’s freedom and response. These were called Arminians and were known as General Baptists. The other group was referred to as “Particular Baptists.” 

Today, there are a variety of Baptist Churches. 

  1. Independent Baptists are autonomous as opposed to Southern Baptists, who are primarily governed by the decisions of the Southern Baptist Convention. Those that aren’t independent send a percentage of their funds to a general fund overseen by the convention or association to which it belongs. The convention determines the financial and spiritual priorities of the congregations under their umbrella. 
  2. Primitive Baptists are largely Calvinist and can somewhat resemble Pentecostals. They trust the Spirit to move in their worship, which can take a person anywhere. There is a Pentecostal Free Will Baptist church that believes in free will. Then again, there are Free Will Baptist Churches, too. 
  3. Seven-Day Baptists hold the Sabbath as sacred and binding. This type of Baptist Church was first established in America in Newport, Rhode Island, in 1671. 
  4. Missionary Baptist Churches focus on evangelism and helping the local community. 
  5. Baptist Churches that are called “First Baptist Church” are to suggest that they were the first in the town or community. 
  6. There are more than 65 Baptist denominations, but the majority belong to just five. 

Many churches have eliminated denominational titles because they indicate division and the bad press associated with things that have occurred. One of the hallmarks of many evangelical groups, with which Baptists are often associated, is the sinner’s prayer. In 2012, David Platt, a Baptist minister, criticized the sinner’s prayer as unbiblical and superstitious. 

Thomas Kidd informs that Anglo-American Puritans and evangelicals used the phrase “receive Christ into your heart” in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The phrase became more formalized during the nineteenth-century missionary movement and was a helpful way to explain that a person needed to make the personal decision to follow Jesus. This phrase’s commonality rose in the 1970s. Kidd also notes that George Whitefield published a hymn called “A Sinner’s Prayer.” 

God of my salvation, hear, and help me believe:

Simply would I now draw near, thy blessings to receive.

Full of guilt, alas I am, but to thy wounds for refuge flee; 

Friend of sinners, spotless lamb, they blood was shed for me.

One thing they believe that’s a significant divergence from us is that you can be saved before baptism. Also, they don’t partake in the Lord’s Supper weekly and use instruments. On this last point, this development is only 200 years old. Even some of their number opposed instruments.

“I would just as soon pray with machinery as to sing with machinery.” —Charles Spurgeon (Baptist) on Psalm 42

“Staunch old Baptists in former times would have as soon tolerated the Pope of Rome in their pulpits as an organ in their galleries. And yet the instrument has gradually found its way among them and their successors in church management, with nothing like the jars and difficulties which arose of old concerning the bass viol and smaller instrument of music.” —David Benedict (Baptist Historian) “Fifty Years among the Baptists”

Preceding Baptists, Mennonites, and Quakers was a group referred to as Anabaptists. As far back as the fifth century, when infant baptism was made the standard, as seen in the fifth Council of Carthage (ca. AD 401), dissidents who would be baptized as adults after being so as infants were called such. Their congregations grew and did well during the Roman Empire despite Catholicism persecuting them. Many were called Novatianists (third-century), Donatists (fourth-century), Albigenses, and Waldenses. Baptists often consider themselves inheritors of this history.

A Primer on the Reformation

The Latin Vulgate was the standard Bible in the West since AD 400, but translations into local vernacular were emerging. The fourteenth-century Oxford scholar John Wycliffe produced the first English manuscripts of Scripture. He opposed the established church because he believed it was contrary to Scripture, so the Bible in English for the common man to read became a goal. His manuscripts were produced from the Latin Bible, the only source available. Wycliffe so angered the Pope that he had his remains dug up, crushed, and scattered in the river forty-four years after he died. One of Wycliffe’s followers, John Hus, continued his mission and advocated that people should be able to read the Bible in their own language. He opposed the tyranny of the Roman church. Hus was burned at the stake, and Wycliffe’s manuscripts were used as kindling for the fire. The year was 1415, and Hus’ last words were, “In 100 years, God will raise up a man whose calls for reform cannot be suppressed.” In 1517, Martin Luther nailed his famous ninety-five theses to the door at Wittenberg—an act often regarded as the spark that began the Reformation.

In the spring of 1517, Martin Luther encountered Johann Tetzel, a preacher of indulgences. Luther was an Augustinian monk, and Tetzel was a Dominican friar. To be an Augustinian monk meant you were a member of a community that followed the Rule of Saint Augustine, a fifth-century Christian scholar. Similarly, the Dominican order followed the teachings of the priest Dominic de Guzman. 

In Catholicism, there are several sacraments. These are considered holy acts one can perform. One of them is the sacrament of penance. An indulgence was a remission of sin, so Tetzel taught that paying a fee could lessen the suffering of a departed loved one being punished in purgatory. Usually, the pope initiated indulgences that were traditionally used to pay for pet projects. Tetzel’s indulgences and others paid off a bank loan a bishop had taken out for a second estate and rebuilt St. Peter’s basilica. There were tales of Tetzel’s rhyme: “When the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs.” Luther saw this as an abuse of penance, and on October 31, 1517, he nailed his 95 theses on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. This is referred to as the spark that ignited the Reformation. Eventually, the protestations of Luther birthed the Lutheran Church. They view Christ as the head of the church, Scripture alone determines doctrine, a person is saved by grace through faith alone, rejects transubstantiation, and does not regard Mary and the saints as intercessors. They also do not believe in purgatory. To learn more, look up and read the Augsburg Confession. 

Martin Luther’s reading of Romans during the Reformation changed the book’s Western interpretation for centuries. John Wesley, of Methodist notoriety, obliged Luther’s translation. Luther’s reading of Romans led to justification by faith alone. In Romans 3:28, Luther added “alone” after faith. Because he was an Augustinian monk, undoubtedly following Augustine’s interpretation of verses 22 and 26 as “faith in Christ” rather than “the faithfulness of Christ,” Reformation theology followed a chain of error. First, with Augustine, who was Ambrose’s protégé, then Luther, an Augustinian monk, and throughout the West and centuries, Reformed theology has taught this way. Romans, however, in the rendering of the syntax, doesn’t altogether disagree with it. Still, even Luther admitted that “alone” or “only” wasn’t present in the text in his 1530 Translating: An Open Letter.

In 1534, King Henry VIII wanted to divorce his wife, Catherin of Aragon, to marry his mistress, Anne Boleyn. The pope refused to grant it, but Henry had reformers in his court—Thomas Cromwell and Thomas Cranmer. They argued that he shouldn’t be subjected to the pope’s jurisdiction, so Henry made Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury, and in 1534, Parliament passed the Act of Supremacy, solidifying a break from the Catholic Church. All Catholic property (e.g., monasteries) reverted to the Crown, so Henry distributed them to loyalists. Though they look a lot alike, Anglicans don’t believe in the doctrine of transubstantiation; they allow women to be ordained as priests, and they may diverge on marriage and divorce and issues of morality. 

Some Developments in Early Christianity (and later)

Catholicism and Orthodoxy were the same for centuries, claiming to be the original church. A split came in the Great Schism in 1054. They share seven ecumenical councils and adhere to the decisions that are derived from them (kind of). However, the Roman Catholic church changed the Nicene Creed (AD 325) to add filioque (“the son”), which upended the doctrine of the Trinity. What changed was that the creed said the Holy Spirit came from God the Father, but by adding the filioque, it read that the Holy Spirit came from the Father and Son, thus making the Spirit subjective to both and lessening his standing in the Trinity. Orthodoxy does not acknowledge this change that was added in the Middle Ages (AD 589).  

Roman Catholicism also added doctrines through the pope’s primacy: purgatory, immaculate conception, stigmata, and praying the rosary, among others. They differ on original sin. Catholicism teaches that every person born is tainted with the guilt of the sin of Adam. This is why they “baptize infants.” Actually, they sprinkle them. “Baptize” means to immerse, which they don’t do. There’s a Greek term for sprinkling seen in Hebrews concerning the blood of bulls and goats (Heb. 9:19-21). That term is rhantizo. Orthodoxy views original sin as having the proclivity to sin because we are all born in the flesh. Still, newborns are innocents who will someday act upon that proclivity and invite sin into their lives. They immerse infants for around forty days of life. 

Ignatius of Antioch was the first to mention the catholic church (Smyrneans 8; ca. AD 107), and he did so as a call to unity around the congregational bishop who was to protect the church from heresy. The usage of “orthodox” was prevalent by the fourth century to distinguish those of the apostolic tradition from heretics. Here are changes that occurred that varied from apostolic teaching:

  • In the early second century, the local congregation’s leadership went from elders, deacons, and ministers (1 Tim. 3) to one elder being chosen as bishop among his fellow elders. Jerome later regarded this change as a “result of tradition, and not by the fact of a particular institution by the Lord” (Comm. Titus 1.7; cf. Did. 15.1; 1 Clement 42.4; Poly., Phil. 5-6; Shep. Herm. vis. 8.3). This bishop was over the elders, deacons, and congregation. At times, you couldn’t take the Lord’s Supper unless the bishop was present to preside over it unless he appointed a proxy in his absence from among the elders. More and more became tied to the bishop, so he performed baptisms exclusively (see Ignatius, Mag. 2; Trall. 2; Smyrn. 8).
  • The Protoevangelium of James is a second-century apocryphal Christian text, considered to be an “infancy gospel,” that narrates the birth and early life of Mary, the mother of Jesus. It includes details not found in the canonical New Testament, most notably the idea of her perpetual virginity; it is believed to have been written sometime around the mid-2nd century. This is the earliest evidence of special attention given to Mary, which would give rise to the practice of venerating her. 
  • By the third century, Cyprian of Carthage (ca. AD 200–258) wrote about baptizing infants as a passing matter (Epistle 58; cf. Acts 8:12, 36–37; 16:29–33), which suggests the practice was entirely common by his time. Discussions of the matter appear as early as Irenaeus (ca. AD 120/140–200/203; Contra Haer. 2.22.4) and Tertullian (ca. AD 200; On Baptism 18). 
  • In the latter third century, veneration of martyrs on the anniversary of their deaths became common. For Origen (ca. 185–254), explicitly, veneration stood with Jesus and not in competition with him (1 Tim. 2:5; cf. Lev. 19:31; Is. 8:19; Eccl. 9:5–6). In the fourth century, they were regarded as sancti, from which “saints” arose. 
  • The Council of Elvira imposed celibacy on clergy (canon 33; ca. AD 300–310), contrary to 1 Timothy 4:3. 
  • By AD 428, Pope Celestine rebuked bishops for not wearing distinguishing attire, which means clerical garbs arose sometime before then (cf. Matt. 23:5). 
  • Owing to their view of original sin, they celebrated Mary’s immaculate conception as early as the fifth century. This doctrine teaches that she was conceived without original sin so that she could bear Jesus. The doctrine was officially defined in 1854.
  • The term “mass” appears around AD 604. It derives from the Latin term missa, meaning “to go.” It was pronounced at the end of worship and is closely associated with “mission.” 
  • In AD 595, the Patriarch of Constantinople, John the Faster, assumed the title “Ecumenical Patriarch.” Gregory the Great, or Pope Gregory I, wrote to the emperor, begging him not to acknowledge it. Emperor Maurice accepted it. A few years later, Emperor Maurice was slain by a usurper—Phocas. Pope Gregory sent letters of praise to the new emperor. However, in AD 606, Phocas transferred the title “Universal Bishop” to Boniface III, the bishop of Rome, thus establishing the modern-day Catholic Church of Rome.
  • The doctrine of transubstantiation, elaborated by Scholastic theologians from the 13th to the 15th century, was incorporated into the documents of the Council of Trent (1545–63). This doctrine taught that when the priest blessed the bread and wine, it became the literal body and blood of Jesus. 
  • Papal infallibility was established in 1870. 

Perhaps the most significant difference between us is our views on Scripture. They contend that the church created the canon, thus exercising authority with and greater than Scripture. To them, the church is the proper interpreter of Scripture. I believe writings were already acknowledged as Scripture in the New Testament (2 Peter 3:15-16). Paul quoted Luke 10:7 in 1 Timothy 5:18. We also note that unanimity was taught in all the churches (1 Cor. 4:17; 7:17; 16:1). Also, New Testament writings were circulated among the churches (cf. Col. 4:16; 1 Thess. 5:27; 1 Peter 1:1; Rev. 1:4). Here are a few other factoids:

  • Didache (AD 50–60) refers to the Lord’s Prayer as it appears in Matthew. 
  • The letter 1 Clement was written near AD 95, and he alludes to the writings of Paul as Scripture and Matthew, Luke, Acts, James, and 1 Peter. 
  • In AD 110, Ignatius alludes to Matthew, Luke, and John. 
  • Polycarp, in AD 110, called Ephesians Scripture. He also references Romans, 1 Corinthians, Galatians, Philippians, 2 Thessalonians, and 1 & 2 Timothy; he quotes Matthew, Mark, and Luke.

I wouldn’t say the church created the New Testament. I would contend that they acknowledged and compiled the books identified as Scripture since the apostolic age. This was done as a reaction to proposed canons, some of which omitted the inspired books. This may have begun with Marcion, the second-century heretic who omitted all of the Old Testament and only recognized Luke’s gospel and some of Paul’s epistles as Scripture. In addition, we have Bryennios’ List, the Muratorian canon, Melito’s canon, Origen’s commentaries, and others. Many of these agree with minor variations, but they didn’t create them so much as to recognize what was a part of the apostolic tradition.

What is “Sound Doctrine?” 

The term “doctrine” derives from Latin and is related to the word “doctor,” which means “teacher.” When we think of doctors today, we think of medical practitioners, but in the Roman Empire, doctors were instructors in a specific field. Therefore, “doctrine” means “teaching.” The Greek term is also fitting for this translation. Christian doctrine derives from commandments focused on “love from a pure heart, a good conscience, and from sincere faith” (1 Tim. 1:5). Paul uses “sound doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:10) to describe how the law ought to be used, and it’s connected to one’s behavior. In Titus 2:1, Paul wrote, “But as for you, speak the things which are proper for sound doctrine.” The term “sound” also refers to those who are physically well instead of sick (Luke 5:31; 7:10; 3 John 2). When the prodigal son returned, he was received safe and “sound” (Luke 15:27). All other usages refer to doctrine, not physical health. Still, there’s a lesson herein: those who are physically healthy are sound, or well, so it may reasonably follow that those who are spiritually healthy are sound too.

Many people denounce doctrine as too divisive. It can be, but it ought not to be. Some people exclaim, “I just want Jesus, don’t give me doctrine.” The fault in that statement is that we cannot separate the truths of Jesus from the Person of Jesus, so without sound doctrine, we have no Jesus. John contended with this in his day, “By this you will know the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesses that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is of God, and every spirit that does not confess that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is not of God. And this is the spirit of the Antichrist, which you have heard was coming, and is now already in the world” (1 John 4:2–3). The way some are today might have said, “Just give me Jesus. I don’t want doctrine,” but for John, it mattered whether or not Jesus appeared in the flesh as a matter of orthodoxy. We tend to dismiss such issues because they seem so minor. There are times when matters are minor, but there are also times when they aren’t. Paul was concerned with sound doctrine, too, and this was what Timothy was to teach and uphold. 

Those who lead sinful lives did not order their lives according to “sound doctrine” (1 Tim. 1:8–11; 6:1–5; 2 Tim. 4:3–5; Titus 2:1–10). When one reads all of these passages, we’re struck by how when sound doctrine is mentioned, behavior should follow. We can see here that those behaviors do not accord with sound doctrine, and anyone claiming to represent God is to call things what God calls them and exhort others to order their lives around sound doctrine. Sadly, many fear calling specific actions, lifestyles, or choices sinful, so we dilute orthodoxy to avoid hurting feelings. We can and should be able to call sin what it is and simultaneously be compassionate and loving towards sinners, among whom we are also counted. Sound doctrine, therefore, is spiritual health. When one is healthy, one manifests that in one’s actions. The spiritually healthy person formed by sound doctrine does the things that please God.

How do we get doctrine? Commandments, prohibitions, and examples are a few ways. When God commands something through one of his chosen prophets or mediums, we must do what is commanded. If he prohibits something the same way, we should not do what’s forbidden. If we note patterns of behavior that are commendable, we can mimic the action and know we are not doing wrong. The problem comes when we bind something that God has not bound.

Though Scripture is inspired, interpretation is not. We conclude when we take a topic and study it as a whole. Some conclusions are rather logical and can be taken at face value, but if an interpretation is questioned, there ought to be answers to justify it, or adjustments should be made. For example, “Abstain from every form of evil” (1 Thess. 5:22). In churches of Christ, I have observed some who have employed this passage to prohibit dancing. A reading of 1 Thessalonians would not have that in mind, but there is a way to use it. When Herodias danced before Herod, we might conclude that it was rather provocative (Mark 6:22). After all, he wanted to offer her anything. In this case, dancing can be viewed as sinful. We can’t say that all dancing is terrible. The older son in the parable of the prodigal son came near the house and “heard music and dancing” (Luke 15:25). This story is about rejoicing over a lost son returning to salvation, and they were dancing as a matter of celebration. 

No human is the arbiter of determining what is doctrine and shouldn’t be. One interpretation among some in churches of Christ is that the Holy Spirit indwells the believer by proxy–through the Word of God. Since some of us know more Scripture than others, do we have more of the Spirit? When you look at interpretations from the first few centuries, this conclusion hasn’t been reached as far as I have read. It’s hard for me to believe that doctrine because the earliest Christians had a different take. That doesn’t mean they’re always right, but it also doesn’t mean they’re wrong.

I believe it’s best for us to give grace to one another and assume the best. Just because I arrive at a different conclusion than you doesn’t mean I’m malicious. Some Christians read the creation account literally. I happen to take parts of it literally while considering how I understand that an ancient Near Eastern audience would have understood it. Still, I hold no ill will if someone reads it literally. We both love Jesus and want to serve God.

  

That Ugly Word: “Tradition”

In churches of Christ, the term “tradition” is a no-no. We associate tradition with creeds and confessions of faith created by denominational bodies. Many Americans were governed by the Philadelphia Confession of Faith a couple of centuries ago. The Westminster Confession of Faith led others. Then you have the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, and more. While there are positives to having such definitive statements (“Don’t shoot me!”), our history has seen them result in division. For example, among Presbyterians were the Anti-Burghers, Auld Licht, Old-Light Anti-Burgher Seceders, and others. Among Methodists were the Episcopal Methodists and Republican Methodists. The Restoration Movement advocated doing away with these creeds and confessions of faith and going by the New Testament as our guide for being Christians and, therefore, the church. There are still splits among us: Disciples of Christ, Christian Church, Churches of Christ. Just among the churches of Christ are non-instrumental, non-institutional, one-cuppers, and others. We had noble intentions, but humanity is flawed no matter how hard we try to help ourselves. 

Matthew (15) and Mark (7) tell the story of Jesus rebuking tradition. Matthew wrote that the scribes and Pharisees accused Jesus’ disciples of “transgressing” the tradition of the elders (15:2). Mark explains washing hands for his audience. At the same time, Matthew assumes his audience understands this, hence some of the differences in the accounts. Jesus’ gripe with them was that their traditions nullified the word of God in how they circumvented the command to honor their father and mother. They used a loophole they created by saying that any funds that might be used to care for their elderly parents have been devoted to God. The Mishnah discusses how if something is consecrated to God, no one could benefit from it, similar to what Jesus says in Matthew 15:5 (cf. m. Ned. 5.6). These “traditions” circumvent God’s clearly stated will and when bound on others, cast them as transgressors. Here’s the deal: Scripture is inspired; interpretation is not inspired. Their interpretations of how to be pious and faithful to God contradicted the will of God. In this case, tradition is bad. 

What we sometimes do is view all traditions as “bad.” Yet, we have our own. The most obvious one in churches of Christ is the invitation at the end of a sermon, and the invitation song is meant to conclude with a public response. You will not read about this in the New Testament; it grew out of the altar call in early American evangelicalism. If we used our logic against ourselves, we’d be violating the interpretation we have bound on another. Sunday school and Wednesday night services are also traditions. God hasn’t decided that we meet twice on a Sunday or once midweek. Sometimes, what we see as a tradition should fall under Christian liberty (cf. Rom. 14). If something doesn’t violate a commandment of God’s or apostolic tradition (“don’t shoot me”), we might find a method of doing something. We notice that the early church sang, but how isn’t specified. They chanted, but we sing in four-part harmony. We’re told to go into the world with the good news, but we aren’t told how to do it. We do this by radio, live stream, airplane, and other methods.  

Another bad kind of tradition is human tradition (Col. 2:8). Paul links this to philosophy, but philosophy itself wasn’t bad. He likely meant it so broadly in his context to include the occult, as we might understand. When he refers to “the basic principles of the world,” he uses a word that seems to be a designation for spiritual beings (cf. Col. 2:10, 20–23). This was, after all, how the term was often used in literature across the board. Simply put, he is thinking of the demonic, which was why I used the term occult. You might also include superstitions in this. For example, believing it to be bad luck to open an umbrella inside or to walk under a ladder is nonsense. Another may be when you spill salt, how you’re supposed to throw a handful of salt over your right shoulder. I don’t know where these originated, but we don’t hang our hopes on luck; we live by faith. 

Paul also uses tradition to convey the practices pleasing to God (2 Thess. 2:15; 3:6). For Paul, it can be given first-hand or in writing. With many centuries between us and the apostles, we rely on what’s written. Some groups contend that what they practice was preserved throughout the centuries as tradition. I believe that’s a way of stopping further inquiry into their practices. Is it to say they’re wrong? Not necessarily, but it’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card to reply with, “It’s holy tradition.” It could be, or that could be a way not to justify what one does. Plus, with the great schism, whose traditions are we to rely on? There are separate traditions in Orthodoxy and Catholicism, though there are similarities. This is where Christian liberty may be most helpful and why I tend to side with the forebearers of the Restoration Movement. As best as we can, let’s live by Scripture. Even with that, someone can become a legalist, so room for grace and liberty is necessary. At the end of it, we’re all trying to do our best to live for God. No one gets it perfectly.   

Does Luke’s Research Nullify Inspiration?

The past few years have been ripe with disinformation, misinformation, alternative facts, etc. Facebook has become a catalyst for spreading such, with algorithms set to pop up what suits one’s fancy. We have no certainty about what is trustworthy anymore, but truth-seekers can sift through the material—identifying both the true and false. Using our preferred sources is easy because they validate our preconceptions, but we should use caution because they may blind us in the process.

When Luke wrote his good news account (see Luke 1:1–4), he wrote against the backdrop of other circulating versions. He carefully investigated the matter, knew eyewitnesses, and drafted an orderly arrangement to straighten the record. Since he indicates research, does that nullify inspiration given by the Holy Spirit? I don’t believe so. Since research was an element of this writing, who is anyone to say that the Holy Spirit didn’t tell Luke to consult with certain people or documents? After all, Luke emphasizes the work of the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:15, 35, 41, 67), and that could have included talking with certain people. Remember, God directed Saul of Tarsus to Ananias, who then told him the gospel when God could have told it to him (see Acts 9:6).

Luke followed things closely and used various sources, one of whom might have been Mary, the mother of Christ. The first two chapters contain information she would have known (Luke 2:19, 51). Peter (cf. Luke 6:14) and Mark might have also been a source for Luke, given the call for Mark—Peter’s companion—in 2 Timothy 4:11 and his presence in Colossians 4:10 and Philemon 24 with Luke.  As Paul’s travel companion, Luke would have undoubtedly received information from him. Paul quoted from Luke 10:7 in 1 Timothy 5:17–18 and referred to his gospel (Rom. 2:16; 16:25; 2 Tim. 2:8).

Luke noted that “many” had tried to write narratives (Luke 1:1), so he wrote in response to inadequate or false gospels. His own, however, was from “eyewitnesses and ministers of the word” (Luke 1:2)—neither of which he was as far as we know. The other accounts contributed to confusion rather than clarity. Luke wanted to give an orderly arrangement (Luke 1:3). His meaning of “orderly” differs from what we might initially think. He doesn’t give a chronological but a topical account. His arrangement differs from Matthew’s and Mark’s but contains some of the same material, though placed in a different order. 

Living in the Kingdom (Matt. 7:6-29)

People today treat their dogs better than humans. I have three dogs, two of which live outside and one inside. I love them but would never grill a steak or pork chop for them. If anything, they might get the leftovers. Jesus’ phrase “what is holy” could refer to meat because it necessitated a banquet whenever an animal was sacrificed. Eating what had been sacrificed to God was considered holy, and to give it to dogs was unthinkable. Also, no one would throw pearls to pigs because they don’t understand their value. Therefore, the gospel, represented as what’s holy and pearls, shouldn’t be wasted on those who scorn them. We want to share the good news, but some people don’t like it. Don’t waste it on them. If anything, pray for them to be receptive, but you can lead a horse to water. 

There are several ways to interpret the ask, seek, and knock passage. The first is relative to prayer, and the second to the kingdom of God as the church. When you look at Acts, the latter is understood in the context by some and see how all resources are pooled together so that no one is lacking. This interpretation focuses on verses 9–11 regarding basic needs and that God, through his church, provides for the saints. It’s not a flawed interpretation, but prayer is truer to the context given Matthew’s usage of “ask” concerning it(cf. Matt. 18:19; 21:22) and Jesus’ focus on prayer in the sermon (Matt. 5:44; 6:5–13). Compared to God, who is the absolute good (Matt. 19:17), parents, regardless of how loving they are of their children, are evil. If evil parents can give good gifts to their children, how much more will God? This doesn’t mean that every prayer we pray is answered “yes.” God gives us good things, and not everything we ask for is 1) a necessity (“bread” and “fish”) and 2) good. 

The golden rule was meant to guide the interpretation of the Law (7:12). It parallels similar statements from other civilizations. 

Watch yourself, my son, in everything you do, and discipline yourself in all your conduct. And what you hate, do not do to anyone. (Tobit 4:14–15; second century BC)

Let us show our generosity in the same manner that we would wish to have it bestowed on us. (Seneca, De Beneficiis 2.1.1; contemporary of Jesus)

What is hateful to you, do not do to your neighbor. That is the whole Torah. The rest is commentary. Go and learn! (Hillel, b. Sabb. 31a; 70 BC–AD 10)

Do not do unto others what you would not want others to do unto you. (Confucius, Analects 15.23)

Anything that might seem like we should treat another in a certain way must be turned on ourselves and asked whether or not we’d wish to be treated that way. 

Verses 13–14’s two ways have parallels in other passages (Deut. 30:15; Ps. 1:1–2). The false prophets of whom Jesus speaks (7:15–20) must be set in the backdrop of how he said we should regard our enemies. In the decades following Jesus, prophets arose, leading revolts against the occupying Romans. Theudas (AD 44–46) led a band of people massacred by a squadron, the head of Theudas being paraded through Jerusalem. During Felix’s reign (AD 52–60), an Egyptian led several thousand people to the Mount of Olives, where he promised to command the city walls to fall and subsequently be installed as Israel’s king. Hundreds were killed, and hundreds were imprisoned, the Egyptian man having escaped. They could tell who the false prophets were by their fruits—if contrary to what Jesus taught them (non-violence), they were known to be untrue. 

Once more, he emphasizes proper action over confession (7:21–23). The false prophets would be known by their fruits. His disciples were to let their light shine through their good works (5:16). He wanted their righteousness to exceed that of the Pharisees and scribes (5:20). At every turn, Jesus wanted his disciples to show, by their actions, fidelity to God. They’re not to make a show of it for others but to quietly serve God, trusting in him. Their house will stand if they heed his instructions (7:24–27). The response to Jesus’ teaching as having authority stems from his teaching coming directly from himself. Pharisees and rabbis would have cited the collective wisdom of the rabbis, the Law, or other Jewish writings. Jesus alludes to them but speaks with authority and settles the matter. He taught, unlike any other teacher who lived, not citing different sources.