Over the last few months out at the prison we've been working our way through the gospel of John. Last week we hit John 13 and the story of Jesus washing the disciples' feet.

If you've read Reviving Old Scratch, or have heard me speak about this, you know the story from my early days out at the prison, how we hit rocky patches when we got to the Beatitudes and John 13. "Blessed are the meek" and washing feet are hard messages in the prison.

Last week, when we were back in John 13, I was reminded that it remains a hard message. Most of the time, the men love to talk and discuss the text we are studying. But when we hit texts like John 13 the room grows quiet and I find I'm the only one willing to talk about the story. You can feel the tension in the room.

The Men in White are like us. We like to intellectualize our Christianity, treating it like it's a theological chess game we're trying to win. We talk so damn much.

But washing feet?

That's a part we'd rather pass over in silence.

Jana and I were wanting to bolster our savings. Jana is the high school theater teacher for Abilene Christian Schools, and she heard that on the elementary side of the school they were needing people to do after school care. Watching the children from 3:30, when school lets out, to 5:30. A lot of parents can't leave work at 3:30 to pick up their kids, so their children stay in after school care until they get out of work.

Jana suggested that she could take that job this semester to make a little extra money. I didn't think it was fair that Jana should do this by herself, so I said I'd do it with her. So we've split the job. I go help watch the kids on Tuesday and Friday. Jana works Wednesday and Thursday.

I had forgotten how much I love being with children. All through my teenage and college years I was attracted to the children at church, playing with them after services. I loved being the father of two young boys when Brenden and Aidan were little. But as they grew older my focus shifted to being the father of high school boys, and I left the social world of children.

But now I'm back, and I remember all the things I loved about playing with children.

To be clear, it's also very hard work. Children can be irritating and boring. They can be oppositional, sneaky, demanding, loud and sullen. I'm very tired after those two hours of work.

But the joys outweigh the work.

I've always been fascinated with how Jesus paid attention to children. Jesus was good with kids. And I think there's something very important about that. I've always said, "The best test of character I know of is watching how you treat children."

I think children teach us the basics of being a human being. Children want you to bear witness, to behold, to see them. The requests you get over and over again are, "Look at me!" and "Watch this." and "Come here and see this." Most of what you do in being with children is beholding them. Seeing. Watching. Bearing witness.

Which requires two things. Presence and attention. You have to be there, and you have to have your eyes open.

And as I practice these skills again on Tuesdays and Fridays, I'm made aware that I'm being reeducated all over again in how to be a human being.

What we want most from each other is presence and attention. That's the basic language of love. But we so rarely offer each other this gift. Mostly because we are all, at various times, sullen, oppositional, demanding, and boring. So we look away. And we lose track of each other.

And eventually, we discover that we've left each other all alone, and that love is in short supply.

Presence and attention. That's what I think made Jesus so good with children. That when no one else saw them, he did.

The way he beheld everyone.

And so it is that a five year old girl takes my hand and tugs, pulling me toward the sandbox.

"Come and see," she says.

I follow.

And I behold.

We're all familiar with the opening line of the Lord's Prayer:

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. 

We generally take these words to be words of respect, giving homage to God. At the start of the prayer we hallow, honor, and reverence the name of God.

These words are actually a petition, a prayer for God to act in hallowing God's own name. God hallowing God's name marks the end of Israel's exile as God gathers the scattered sheep of Israel. God hallows God's name by restoring Israel:

Ezekiel 39.7-8, 25-29
"And my holy name I will make known in the midst of my people Israel, and I will not let my holy name be profaned anymore. And the nations shall know that I am the Lord, the Holy One in Israel. Behold, it is coming and it will be brought about, declares the Lord God. That is the day of which I have spoken.

“Therefore thus says the Lord God: Now I will restore the fortunes of Jacob and have mercy on the whole house of Israel, and I will be jealous for my holy name. They shall forget their shame and all the treachery they have practiced against me, when they dwell securely in their land with none to make them afraid, when I have brought them back from the peoples and gathered them from their enemies' lands, and through them have vindicated my holiness in the sight of many nations. Then they shall know that I am the Lord their God, because I sent them into exile among the nations and then assembled them into their own land. I will leave none of them remaining among the nations anymore. And I will not hide my face anymore from them, when I pour out my Spirit upon the house of Israel, declares the Lord God.”

The Lord's Prayer is a petition for God to hallow God's name before the nations by restoring Israel, making the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven through the reign of the Messiah. 

Many of the controversies we have about salvation result from not recognizing the central role and activity of the Holy Spirit. Two related controversies involve law versus grace and justification versus sanctification.

Regarding law and grace, these two are often pitted against each other. We are told to eschew a "works-based righteousness"--moral performance under the law--to embrace grace.

Relatedly, we struggle to articulate the relationship between justification and sanctification. We are saved through faith (justification), but there's the ongoing demand of righteous living and holiness (sanctification). Which seems to sneak a works-based righteousness in through the backdoor, negating the gift of grace. How to strike the right balance? (Dietrich Bonhoeffer's contrast between "cheap grace" and "costly grace" is an example of a theological attempt to find a proper balance between justification and sanctification.)

I'd like to argue that many of these tensions result from failing to attend to the role of the Holy Spirit in salvation.

To start, let's consider the law.

The last generation of scholarship on Paul, the New Perspective in particular, has shown us that Reformation understandings of Palestinian Judaism as a legalistic and works-based religion are simply wrong. Consequently, when we pit grace against "works-based righteousness" we're mistaken. That wasn't a problem in Judaism, and it wasn't the problem Paul was dealing with.

That said, Paul clearly does have issues with the law. But if it's not works-based righteousness, what's the problem?

To get a handle on this we need to examine Paul's seemingly contradictory statements about the law. On the one hand, the law brings death:

Romans 7.5
For when we were in the realm of the flesh, the sinful passions aroused by the law were at work in us, so that we bore fruit for death.

So it seems that the law is a bad thing for us, it arouses sinful passions. And yet, Paul goes on to say that the law is good:

Romans 7.12
The law is holy, and the commandment is holy, righteous and good.

So which is it? The law brings about our death, yet the law is holy, righteous and good.

The paradox here is resolved when we note that the problem isn't just the law. The law, as we've noted, is actually good. The problem is the interaction of law and flesh, the mixture of non-spiritual with the spiritual. It's that interaction that's the problem. Simply:

Law + Flesh = Sin

In Paul's words: "We know that the law is spiritual; but I am unspiritual, sold as a slave to sin."

Our problem with the law is this ontological disjoint between our unspiritual nature (our "flesh") and the spiritual law. Our problem is an ontological incapacity to fulfill the law:

Romans 7.21-23
So I find this law at work: Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. 

Notice that the problem here isn't a works-based righteousness, trying to "earn" grace. The problem is an ontological and moral inability to do the right thing you know you should do:

Romans 7.15-18
I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 

That's the whole problem in a nutshell: "I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out."

Ontological incapacity. The law is holy, righteous and good but I lack the capacity to carry it out. So I fall back into sin and death. Rinse and repeat.

Stuck in this cycle Paul cries out for salvation, and the answer to his cry is...the Spirit. The Spirit is given to flesh to give us the ontological capacity to become holy, righteous and good:

Romans 7.24-8.14
What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free from the law of sin and death. For what the law was powerless to do because it was weakened by the flesh, God did by sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh to be a sin offering. And so he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fully met in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

Those who live according to the flesh have their minds set on what the flesh desires; but those who live in accordance with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace. The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God.

You, however, are not in the realm of the flesh but are in the realm of the Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you. And if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, they do not belong to Christ. But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.

Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.

For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. 

I know that was a long text to read, so if you skipped it, seriously, go back and read it slowly, internalize the argument.

Note that the problem is not a works-based righteousness. The problem is ontological incapacity. Paul says this very, very clearly: "The mind governed by the flesh is hostile to God; it does not submit to God’s law, nor can it do so. Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God."

The mind of the flesh cannot submit to God's law, nor can it do so.

Because of this ontological incapacity, the problem is how the law interacted with flesh to bring about sin. Salvation, thus, comes through the Spirit which breaks this cycle.

Note how the goal in all this is holy and righteous living: "Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation...put to death the misdeeds of the body." This holy and righteous living is ontologically empowered and enabled by the Holy Spirit. Our flesh, once "subject to death because of sin," is given power and life through the Spirit, which gives us the spiritual and moral capacity to "put to death the misdeeds of the body."

And when we put the misdeeds of the flesh to death we live: "If by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live."

There's no conflict here between holiness and grace, between righteous living and salvation. There is no conflict here between justification and sanctification. Grace gives us the ability to be holy. Holiness is freedom from sin and death. Justification gives us the capacity to live sanctified lives and sanctified lives are the sign that we are, in fact, the children of God.

And it's all because of the Holy Spirit.

The Spirit is salvation.

What does it mean to be lost?

Simply stated, being lost means being separated from God.

Again, in most of our debates about salvation this "separation" isn't really a separation. Being lost, in most conversations, means standing under God's wrath. Which is bad, no doubt, but wrath is an emotional state or a legal situation. Technically, wrath isn't separation. In fact, you could argue that wrath implies connection. Wrath is a relational emotion.

True, wrath might eventually lead to separation from God, but it's this separation that we most fear.

In the New Testament, separation from God is associated with death. Being lost is being dead or subject to death. And we are subject to death because, separated with God, we lack the power to overcome and defeat death.

This is why salvation is associated with power. Salvation isn't primarily about being declared "righteous." Salvation is about being connected to a power that can give us victory over death.

Being saved, therefore, is being united and reconnected with God.

And again, to echo a point made earlier in this series, this movement from death to life is ontological. Death really means death, our bodies subject to death, decay and corruptibility. Life really means life, being infused with God's Spirit giving us victory over death.

Simply put, salvation is resurrection.

Romans 8.11
And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you.

Romans 8.19-24b
For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.

1 Corinthians 15.42-55
So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. Thus it is written, “The first man Adam became a living being”; the last Adam became a life-giving spirit. But it is not the spiritual that is first but the natural, and then the spiritual. The first man was from the earth, a man of dust; the second man is from heaven. As was the man of dust, so also are those who are of the dust, and as is the man of heaven, so also are those who are of heaven. Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.

I tell you this, brothers and sisters: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable.

Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

“Death is swallowed up in victory.”

“O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?”

Every week when David comes to the study he carries a huge folder of paper. It's about an inch thick.

It's full of piano music.

There is a piano in the prison chapel. It's only used for Sunday worship services. An inmate would never be allowed to visit the chapel to play the piano all alone, playing whatever music he wanted.

But sometimes David gets a chance to have the piano all to himself.

During the hours of our study the prison does their evening "count." Counts happen at regular intervals throughout the day. No one can move during count. You stay right where you are--our guys are obviously in the chapel--and the prison takes a census, accounting for every inmate in the entire facility.

Sometimes the count doesn't "clear." The numbers don't match up. So you keep counting and locating the unaccounted for inmates until the numbers are right.

The count can take upwards to two hours if it's having trouble clearing. Which means that, if the count hasn't cleared by the time our study is over at 8:30, the men have to stay in the chapel until the count clears. They might have to wait a few minutes, or they might have to wait for over an hour.

And if that happens, David is stuck waiting in the chapel.

Which just so happens to have a piano in the corner.

That's why David religiously brings his music to the study.

For those precious few moments to sit down at a piano, to pull out his music, and play.

In the atonement debates theologians remind us that the New Testament writers don't give us a theory of atonement, and by that they mean a theory about the mechanism of atonement. That we are saved by Jesus' death on the cross is the crucial point. How we are saved by his death is a fuzzy matter.

I agree with that assessment. I don't think we get a clear picture in the NT about how atonement "works."

That said, I actually do think we are told about the mechanism of salvation in the NT, Paul especially.

How are we saved? We're saved by the Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the means and mechanism of salvation.

Rather than tour through all of Paul's letters, let's focus in on Romans 8 to see this illustrated.

According to Paul, the human predicament is that we are all slaves to Sin, death and the devil. We are dead, incapacitated and weak. Cut off from God's power, separated from God's life.

We are saved, liberated and rescued from our bondage by the power of the Holy Spirit. We are reconnected to God's life through the Holy Spirit.

Again, how are we saved? Answer: By receiving Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the mechanism, the means of salvation.

Here's how Paul describes it at the start of Romans 8:

Romans 8.1-6
There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death.

For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit.

For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit. For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace.

For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God's law; indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.

You, however, are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if in fact the Spirit of God dwells in you.

Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him. 

But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you.

The Spirit sets us frees from bondage ("Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." 2 Cor. 3.17). The Spirit gives us the capacity to please God by walking in righteousness. The Spirit gives power and life to our mortal bodies.

In short, if we were to ask Paul our questions--How are we set free? How are we given new life? How are we made into a new creation? How are we given the ability to walk in righteousness? How? How? How?--Paul's answer would be simple.

The Holy Spirit.

Let's take a couple posts to note how salvation is equated with the Holy Spirit in the New Testament.

The basic thesis for this post is easily stated: In the gospels and Acts salvation is equated with receiving the Holy Spirit.

That might seem to be an obvious point, but let it sink in. Salvation in the gospels and Acts isn't associated with the atonement. Salvation is associated with being given the Holy Spirit.

In the gospels this association is most clearly seen in John:

John 3.5-8
Jesus answered [Nicodemus], “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’ The wind blows where it wishes, and you hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

Being saved is being "born again" in a mystical, spiritual, metaphysical sense. Simply: "That which is born of the Spirit is spirit." In John 6.63 Jesus says, "It is the Spirit that gives life."

Salvation is life, and the Spirit is what gives us life.

The Synoptic gospels are less mystical when it comes to the Spirit, but they agree with John that the coming of the kingdom is associated with the advance of the Spirit.

John the Baptist declares, “I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

Jesus' ministry of exorcism is viewed in the Synoptics as the Holy Spirit reclaiming enemy-held territory:

Matthew 12.22-28
Then a demon-oppressed man who was blind and mute was brought to him, and he healed him, so that the man spoke and saw.

And all the people were amazed, and said, “Can this be the Son of David?” But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, “It is only by Beelzebul, the prince of demons, that this man casts out demons.”

Knowing their thoughts, he said to them, “Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no city or house divided against itself will stand. And if Satan casts out Satan, he is divided against himself. How then will his kingdom stand? And if I cast out demons by Beelzebul, by whom do your sons cast them out? Therefore they will be your judges. But if it is by the Spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the kingdom of God has come upon you."

In Acts 1 and 2 the church--the community of the saved--is established at Pentecost by the pouring out of the Holy Spirit. In Acts 10 the mission to the Gentiles is inaugurated when the Holy Spirit falls upon Cornelius and his household.

In fact, the entire book of Acts is simply the story of how the Spirit that filled Jesus now fills and guides the church. The Spirit is the hero of the book of Acts. How a person stands in relation to the Spirit in the book of Acts tells us how they stand in relation to salvation, the church, and the advancing kingdom of God.

So the main point: in the gospels and the book of Acts salvation is described as receiving the Holy Spirit. 

The key insight we need to understand salvation is that salvation is ontological.

We tend to think that salvation is relational and moral. Specifically, to be saved is to have our relationship with God restored. Once, we stood condemned before God, now we stand justified. Salvation is a change in relationship.

And standing now justified, we also think of salvation as a moral status. Once, I was dirty and unclean, now I am washed and pure.

No doubt, salvation is both of these things. But what tends to get missed when we understand salvation in relational and moral terms is the ontological aspect of salvation. Salvation changes our being, the substance of our very selves and existences. We are, quite literally, a "new creation." Once, we were one type of being, and now we are a new type of being. A new creature. A qualitatively different type of human being.

It takes a lot of work to even imagine this, how salvation isn't just about a change in relationship or moral status, how salvation changes the very substance of your being.

To recount a lesson from Theology 101, Western visions of salvation have tended to be forensic in nature, focusing on legal status. Saved vs. Lost. This status highlights the relational and moral aspects of salvation, our legal situation before the Judgment Seat of God. By contrast, the Eastern vision of salvation is ontological. Salvation is union and participation in the Divine Nature. Salvation is theosis, ontologically becoming God. The saints are literally becoming divine.

To make the contrast clear, the saints are not being declared divine (holy, justified, righteous) by a judge in a forensic, legal sense. The saints are becoming divine, at the atomic level, if I can use those words. Metaphysically, mystically, and supernaturally the physical components of your being--the atoms and molecules, muscles and tendons, organs and blood--are being modified and changed, becoming something different. You are becoming, quite literally, a new kind of creature.

This is may be a crude way to describe it, but imagine every atom of your being being changed by exposure to Divine radiation. Sort of like what happens in a superhero movie, like how Peter Parker is changed into Spider Man.

Becoming like a superhero, a new type of human being, a new creature. That is the Eastern vision of salvation. That's what it means to say salvation is ontological.

This is why the Spirit is salvation, because it's the Spirit that is creating and re-creating your being, fusing your DNA with the divine in the process of theosis. The Spirit is the Divine radiation in the superhero movie of salvation. The Spirit is the means of new creation. Without the Spirit new creation cannot happen. And outside of new creation there is no salvation.

My book The Slavery of Death is my deepest reflection on the subject of salvation. Mainly from a psychological perspective, the emotional contours of what it means to be set free from the slavery of death.

But I've come to think that there's a big missing piece in The Slavery of Death. Theologically, what's missing is an account of Holy Spirit's work in effecting our liberation from Sin, death and the devil. This is a particularly important issue given how much The Slavery of Death leans on Orthodox theology.

That said, my discussions about "ecstatic" and "eccentric" identity in The Slavery of Death easily lend themselves to a pneumatological treatment. An ecstatic and eccentric identity is simply the psychological experience of a Spirit-filled and a Spirit-led life.

Still, I wish I had included a more explicit discussion of the Holy Spirit in the book.

And the reason for that is that, more and more, I'm coming to see how in all our debates about salvation and atonement the big missing piece in all of these discussions is the Holy Spirit. We focus so much on the forgiveness of sins that we miss seeing how salvation is receiving the Holy Spirit.

Especially from a Christus Victor perspective, what liberates us from the powers of Sin, Death and Satan? The Holy Spirit.

What moves us--ontologically--from Death to Life? The Holy Spirit.

What vitally reconnects us with and allows us to participate in God's being and life? The Holy Spirit.

What is the ontological glue that binds the church together across time and space? The Holy Spirit.

What is the power that gives us the moral capacity to obey the Law of Love to advance in holiness and spiritual perfection? The Holy Spirit.

Simply put, the Spirit is Salvation. And I'd like to devote some posts to that idea.

On Monday out at the prison we were in John 12 and spent most of our time talking about these verses:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.

We talked about how Christians die before death, making us immune to the fear of death. And emancipated from the fear of death we become immune to the power of the devil (Hebrews 2.14-15).

As the church father John Chrysostom has said, "he who does not fear death is outside the tyranny of the devil."

As regular readers know, all this is worked out in my book The Slavery of Death. It was nice on Monday to lean into that material. 

Because if there ever was a display case for death being the power of the devil, it's inside a maximum security prison. Here's how I described it to the men on Monday.

The devil is a puppet master. We are the puppets. And the strings the devil pulls is our fear of death. That is how the devil enslaves, controls, and bullies us.

But in baptism, in dying before death, the strings are cut, setting us free from fear and the power of the devil.

And in that moment, raised up from the waters of death, a new human being is born, a new creature, a new creation. A liberated, fearless person who is totally free.

In the end, it comes down to the old story that we are sinners, but that this is our hope because sinners are the ones who attract to themselves the infinite compassion of God. To be a sinner, to want to be pure, to remain in patient expectation of the divine mercy and above all to forgive and love others, as best we can, this is what makes us Christians.

--Thomas Merton

Last reminder that the ebook of Reviving Old Scratch is on sale for just $2.99. The deal ends on September 15 when Fortress Press wraps up its massive summer ebook sale.

For potential readers wondering if a book about the devil in the modern age would be of value to your church or ministry, Reviving Old Scratch was named the 2017 Book of the Year by the Academy of Parish Clergy.

Again, the sale ends in two days. The full listings of books on sale is here.

If Matthew 11.12 isn't the most puzzling passage in the gospels then that prize is likely to go to Jesus' response to the the Syrophoenician woman:

Matthew 15.21-28
Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.”

Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.”

The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said.

He replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

“Yes it is, Lord,” she said. “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

Then Jesus said to her, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed at that moment.

We're familiar with the controversy here. Jesus calls the woman a dog. More, Jesus appears to have a very parochial view of his vocation and mission, privileging Israel over the nations. But the woman persists and forces her way into the kingdom.

In contrast to this story in Mark, the story in Matthew highlights the force of the woman, her refusal to be denied. That force wins the day.

I think this story in Matthew is illustrating what Jesus was talking about in Matthew 11.12, how forceful people forcefully seize the kingdom. I think Matthew is using this story to draw a contrast between the forceful faith of this pagan woman and the apathy Jesus was receiving in the towns of Israel.

Let me illustrate the connection:

Then Jesus began to denounce the towns in which most of his miracles had been performed, because they did not repent. “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes." (Matthew 11.20-21)

Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the region of Tyre and Sidon. A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is demon-possessed and suffering terribly.” (Matthew 15.21-222)

What Jesus had predicted Matthew shows us as coming true. In contrast to the apathy the kingdom was being met with in Israel the pagans in Tyre and Sidon were forcefully seizing the kingdom. The woman would not be denied. She forced her way into the kingdom.

Yes, Jesus does throw up barriers in Matthew 15. But I think Jesus does this to make a point. Look, Jesus is saying, how in the face of the kingdom these people refuse to be denied. This is the forceful response I'm looking for but can't find in Israel.

The kingdom is forcefully coming and the forceful, like this woman, forcefully seize it.

I think the key to the interpretation of Matthew 11.12 lies in the context of Jesus' speech.

Again, all major translations translate Matthew 11.12 as a saying about the kingdom of God being attacked by forceful or violent persons. But that interpretation is the exact opposite of what Jesus is describing in the context of Matthew 11. According to Jesus in Matthew 11, the kingdom isn't being attacked. The kingdom is being rejected.

I don't want to quote the entire text of Matthew 11.1-24, but it might be good for you to read it. But here are the highlights.

The passage begins with John questioning from prison if Jesus is indeed the Messiah. Jesus responds:

“Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.”

Note the final line, "Blessed in anyone who does not stumble on account of me." John seems to be having doubts, and Jesus offers both evidence and a warning. In short, the context of Matthew 11 is one of doubt and warning.

Jesus then turns to the crowd and begins to tell them about John. Jesus says John is a prophet, in fact John is Elijah, the long-awaited herald of the Messiah. So the issue before the crowd is if they will accept this fact:

For all the Prophets and the Law prophesied until John. And if you are willing to accept it, he is the Elijah who was to come. Whoever has ears, let them hear. 

The trouble is, the people aren't willing to accept John or Jesus. The people have rejected both John and Jesus. So Jesus offers up a stinging rebuke:

Then Jesus began to denounce the towns in which most of his miracles had been performed, because they did not repent. “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes. But I tell you, it will be more bearable for Tyre and Sidon on the day of judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, will you be lifted to the heavens? No, you will go down to Hades. For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Sodom, it would have remained to this day. But I tell you that it will be more bearable for Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.” 

I hope all this illustrates the point I made above. The context of Matthew 11 isn't one of violent people attacking the kingdom. From the start, with John's doubts and Jesus' warning to John, to the end, with Jesus' judgment upon the lack of faith he was encountering, the context is about the rejection of the kingdom, the frame is doubt and a lack of faith.

And in the middle of this conversation about doubt and a lack of faith is the puzzling passage Matthew 11.12. How does that passage fits with the context?

It might be helpful to render Matthew 11.12 more neutrally. In the passage Jesus uses the root verb biazó "to force" twice, and the root verb harpazó "to take/seize with force" once. So the idea of "force" flows through the whole passage. So some neutral rendering of the passage would be:

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully coming, and the forceful seize it.

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully coming, and the forceful forcefully take it.

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has been forcefully coming, and the forceful grab it.

Rendered here more neutrally I think we see the point of the saying. From John to Jesus the kingdom of heaven had been forcefully advancing. And yet, the kingdom was being met with doubt and questioning. Even John was starting to waver. So Jesus declares that the kingdom is advancing. The army is on the move, so now is the time to forcefully seize this opportunity. But sadly, the people were meeting the kingdom with doubt and a lukewarm reception. The people lacked urgency or interest. Instead of forcefully seizing the kingdom there was apathy.

I think this is the correct interpretation of Matthew 11.12. Matthew 11.12 is offered not as a description of what was happening to the kingdom--violent people attacking it--because that is exactly what was not happening. The kingdom was, rather, being dismissed and ignored. Matthew 11.12 is a rebuke, a call to action, a challenge to doubting and questioning audiences to forcefully seize the kingdom.

In the final post in this series I'd like to support this interpretation by using Matthew 11.12 to illuminate another puzzling saying of Jesus.

A puzzle to solve a puzzle.

I'd like to devote a few posts to interpreting Matthew 11:12.

Matthew 11:12 is one of the most perplexing sayings of Jesus in the gospels. Here it is:

From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence, and violent people have been raiding it. (NIV)

Obviously, the juxtaposition of the kingdom and violence is provocative, making any possible interpretation a bit of a minefield.

What makes the interpretation of the passage difficult is that the verb for violence--biazetai, from the root biazó "to force"--in the phrase "the kingdom of heaven has been subjected to violence" (NIV), can be in the middle or passive voice. That is, the kingdom of God can be subject to force or the agent of force.

Our knee jerk response to those options is that the kingdom of God wouldn't be the agent of force. Thus, most translations, like the NIV above, interpret the verb in the passive voice: the kingdom is subject to or suffers violence:

And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force. (KJV)

From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. (ESV)

From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. (NRSV) 

This interpretation seems to fit well with the rest of the saying that "the violent take [the kingdom of God] by force" (NRSV). In short, the meaning of the passage suggests that the kingdom of God is under siege and being attacked.

As a first pass that seems to make sense, but upon deeper reflection it raises some questions. The kingdom of God can't be taken by force, can it? If the "gates of hell" can't prevail against the kingdom (Matt. 16.18) how could the kingdom ever be "taken by force"?

So maybe an alternative translation is in order, making the kingdom the agent of force. Few translations go this direction, but the NLT does:

And from the time John the Baptist began preaching until now, the Kingdom of Heaven has been forcefully advancing, and violent people are attacking it.

Unlike the other translations, here the kingdom is the agent of force: "the Kingdom of Heaven has been forcefully advancing." But the NLT keeps the main idea of the other translations, that the kingdom is being attacked by violent people.

So who are these violent people who are attacking the kingdom?

Well, some see a hint in the context of the passage. The saying in Matthew 11:12 occurs in a larger conversation where Jesus is discussing the witness of John the Baptist. The conversation takes place because John, who was in prison at the time, sends emissaries to ask of Jesus “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?”

The mention of John being in prison in 11:2 is taken by some to be the clue to interpreting 11:12. Maybe Herod is the violent person who, in his persecution of John, is attacking the kingdom of God, trying to take it by force. Maybe the opposition both John and Jesus are facing are the violent people who are attacking the kingdom?

I don't find these plausible interpretations. The verb harpazousin doesn't mean "attack." It means "to seize, to take by force." Sure, that might imply an "attack," but it's an attack not to destroy but to take. Neither Herod or those opposed to John or Jesus seem to be trying to forcefully seize the kingdom.

So we are back to our original question.

What does Matthew 11:12 mean?

The NFL season started last night, and you know what that means out at the prison?

It's gambling season.

Last week one of the inmates got busted by the guards as he entered our study. The men are routinely patted down before they are released into the chapel, checked for contraband. As you might expect, this pat down can be variously perfunctory or thorough.

Last week the pat down was thorough, and one guy got caught carrying a gambling ticket.

It's football season, so gambling is booming right now in the prison. It's against the rules, so the inmate with the gambling card was written up.

I'm not totally informed about the gambling operations at work in the prison. As you might expect, the Men in White don't talk a whole lot about this. But there are multiple gambling operations running in each house. "XXX" or "Big House." You can take bets out with these groups. Each one issues tickets, typed up on a white piece of paper. The operation name across the top with the betting details below. This was what the inmate was caught with last week.

Again, like with my earlier diary entries about the prison economy, the gambling operations boggle the mind, a small window on this whole other world that exists behind prison walls.

One more post talking about John Barclay's analysis in his book Paul and the Gift, focusing on how grace obligates us to cross social boundaries to participate in the transgressive covenantal community where we have duties in the kingdom's economy of love.

Our "gift-obligations" in the economy of love cannot be decoupled from faith, as they are in the tired "faith vs. works" debate. The point of the Christ-gift--what we call grace--is to create this very community, what Jesus called "the kingdom of God." Grace without this kingdom, without the covenantal economy of love, is no grace at all.

Relatedly, if you spurn your "gift-obligations," if you refuse to participate in the covenantal economy of love, you "fall" from grace: you make yourself unavailable to the economy of love where Christ is present and performing his saving work.

I think this perspective on grace is so imporant because one of the great problems with American Christianity is emotionalism.

Let me illustrate. Recently, one Sunday at my church during the closing prayer the person leading the prayer prayed, "And God, I pray that everyone here in this room leaves this place with a feeling of having been close to you, with a feeling of your love."

After the prayer was over, I lifted my head and looked at Jana: "A feeling? We are praying that we have feelings?"

Of course we were. The entire goal of contemporary praise and worship music in America is to create feelings. Worship is successful if it moves us emotionally.

Feelings are also the goal when it comes to spiritual formation. Prayer and devotional time with God are successful if they create feelings of closeness, connection and intimacy with God. Spiritual problems are diagnosed by feelings as well, feeling spiritually "dead" or "dry."

Christianity is swamped with feelings. What is missing is any notion that Christianity, as Jesus taught it, is behavioral. "By their fruits," Jesus said, "you will know them."

By our fruits, not our feelings.

The reason Christianity has become so emotional is a bad theology of grace. When the perfection of non-circularity was perfected in church history, grace became a one-sided affair, with the initiative all on God's side. Humans, in this scheme, are not called into a covenantal partnership, but stand as passive recipients. All that is left to do in this scheme is to cultivate a feeling of gratitude for the gift of grace. Being a Christian, therefore, is working, over and over and over again, to generate this feeling of gratitude. Through praise bands and prayer and sermons that kick us in the gut. Feelings are how we respond to grace.

But again, as Barclay argues it, Paul didn't perfect the non-circularity of grace. Grace obligates us as covenantal, kingdom-of-God partners. Grace is not a one-sided transaction, grace is a social revolution: the creation of transgressive, boundary-crossing communities who live into the kingdom's economy of love. There's more to being a Christian than feeling grateful over and over again for a gift you've been given. To be clear, all our actions have to flow out of gratitude and joy, otherwise you have different sorts of problems: shame, legalism, guilt, scrupulosity, pride. But being in a covenantal relationship with God's family involves more than feelings. The kingdom's economy of love, given its relational and transgressive nature, requires is discipline, accountability, sanctification, mission, maturation, and holiness.

But due to our distorted theology of grace, we never get around to the covenantal obligations of grace. We remain stuck on the emotional and therapeutic aspects of salvation. In this theology of grace feelings become severed from sanctification, our deeper participation in the economy of love. Salvation becomes a feeling rather than a new way of living and loving.

And this bad theology of grace--grace divorced from covenantal obligations to God and each other--produces one of the great theological Frankensteins of American Christianity:

People who are mean, selfish and prejudiced who walk around feeling saved.

In my last post we noted how John Barclay's analysis in his book Paul and the Gift helps us get pass the tired "faith vs. works" debate.

Barclay's analysis also helps us get past another tired debate.

Can you fall from grace?

As we've noted, Paul (according to Barclay) doesn't perfect the non-circularity of grace. For Paul, grace creates covenantal obligations.

And what that means is that if we fail to honor those covenantal obligations we can fall from grace.

As Barclay writes (p. 440): “Since these warnings [in Paul's letters] are directed to the believing community, it is clearly possible to lose all the benefits of the Christ-gift. A community that fails to live in accord with the gift has lost contact with its saving power.”

That we can fall from grace should be a non-controversial point. Falling from grace is illustrated (e.g, Ananias and Sapphira, churches of Sardis and Laodicea in Revelation), mentioned (e.g., Hebrews 6.4-6) and generally assumed throughout the New Testament.

For example, why is perseverance in the faith encouraged if there wasn't the real risk of not persevering? Why encourage Christians to not be conformed to the world if there wasn't a risk of conforming?

Of course you can fall from grace. So why is there any debate about this?

Well, it goes back to the same debates that created the distortion of grace we observed in the faith vs. work debate.

The debates between Augustine and Pelagius, Luther and Erasmus, Calvin and Arminius didn't just perfect the non-circularity of grace. As Barclay points out, these debates also perfected the efficacy of grace: Grace accomplishes everything it sets out to accomplish.

The efficacy of grace was perfected in these debates for the same reason non-circularity was perfected: To remove any trace of human effort. God's grace has to save us so completely and thoroughly that there's nothing left for us to do. Ever. We can't even fall away from grace.

But again, Paul didn't perfect non-circularity or efficacy. God's election does create an unmerited covenantal relationship, but that doesn't mean we can't spurn the covenant. The Exodus was grace, but the people rebelled in the desert. And that rebellion remains a live possibility.

Grace is our exodus. Obedience in the desert on the way to the Promised Land is our covenantal responsibility.    

John Barclay argues in Paul and the Gift that Paul perfected the incongruity of grace (grace is given to the unworthy), but that Paul did not perfect the non-circularity of grace. Grace, according to Paul (according to Barclay), creates bonds of obligation and reciprocity.

Barclay (p. 446): “[T]he grace of God in Christ is 'unconditioned' (without prior considerations of worth) but not non-circular or 'unconditional,' if that means without expectation of return.”

True, God's election, as an act of grace, was 100% God's work and initiative. And it was unconditioned, ignoring human categories of worth. But having become recipients of that grace there are some definite strings attached.

This language of obligation is everywhere in Paul. Some examples from Romans:

Romans 6.1-2. 12-13
What shall we say, then? Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase? By no means! We are those who have died to sin; how can we live in it any longer?

Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life; and offer every part of yourself to him as an instrument of righteousness.

Romans 8.1, 12-13
There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it. For if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.

Romans 12.1-2
Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind

Such are the obligations of grace: Do not let sin reign in your mortal body, do not offer yourself as an instrument of wickedness, put to death the misdeeds of the body, live according to the Spirit, do not conform to the pattern of the world, be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

It all seems fairly obvious, the obligations of grace. None of this makes us deserve or merit God's gift. But covenantal fidelity to God, as our ongoing response to God's grace, demands lifelong work and effort.

So salvation demands both faith and works. Faith in God's gift, and the ongoing work of being in a covenantal relationship with God.

So, is this the solution to the tired old debate about faith versus works?

I think so. As Barclay points out, the friction between faith and works didn't come from Paul, it came from theological debates between people like Augustine and Pelagius, Luther and Erasmus, Calvin and Arminius. The fires of these debates focused upon, distilled and intensified teaching regarding the non-circularity of grace in ways which distorted Paul's message of grace. As children of these debates, we've inherited the distortions, along with the debate, pitting faith and works against each other in ways that don't jibe with Paul's covenantal imagination.

For Paul, it was never Faith versus Works. It's Faith and Works.

I've blogged quite a few times about John Barclay's book Paul and the Gift. I've generally focused upon the social implications of grace as described by Barclay. Today I want to focus on something different.

To recap, Barclay argues that grace has been "perfected" in various ways. If God is the perfect Giver then God gives perfect gifts.

But what does a perfect gift look like?

Barclay suggests that, throughout Christian history, grace has been perfected in six different ways:

1. Superabundance
Grace is "perfected" if it is lavish and extravagant.

2. Singularity
Grace is "perfected" if it flows out of a spirit of benevolence and goodness.

3. Priority
Grace is "perfected" if it is unprompted, free, spontaneous and initiated solely by choice of the giver.

4. Incongruity
Grace is "perfected" if it ignores the worth or merit of the recipient.

5. Efficacy
Grace is "perfected" if it accomplishes what it intends to do.

6. Non-Circularity
Grace is "perfected" if it escapes repayment and reciprocity, if it cannot be paid back or returned.

Barclay's argument is that Paul's message of grace was primarily about the incongruity of grace. Grace is grace because it is a gift given to the unworthy. That seems banal to us, but Barclay points out that this was, in Paul's time and place, a radical notion. In the Roman first century context perfect gifts were gifts given to worthy recipients. Paul's gospel blew that idea out of the water and forever changed how we think of grace. Today it's a truism that grace is given to people who don't deserve it. That's what makes grace grace.

The part of Barclay's analysis that I've mostly focused upon is how Paul uses the incongruity of grace to dismantle cultures of honor and shame. Grace destroys cultural and human standards of worth and value. Grace was a social revolution that allowed honored and shamed to form new, socially transgressive communities.

But the point I'd like to talk about today is the perfection of non-circularity.

Non-circularity is the idea that grace cannot be repaid, that grace escapes the obligations of reciprocity. Grace is grace because we cannot pay it back. And if we could pay it back, it would no longer be grace, no longer be a gift.

Like the perfection of incongruity, this perfection of grace was foreign to Paul's world. Gifts were given in the ancient world precisely to create bonds of reciprocity and obligation. These bonds of obligation were what made the ancient gift economies work. True, elaborate cultural rituals were in place to obscure this fact--it would be crude and improper to try to repay the gift immediately and directly--but bonds of obligation were created by ancient patronage. Favors were cashed in.

So the notion that grace escapes repayment is new and strange. And yet, that's an assumption we have about grace. Where did it come from?

As Barclay recaps the story, the perfection of non-circularity emerged from the fires of theological debate in church history. Augustine vs. Pelagius. Luther vs. Erasmus. Calvin vs. Arminius.

At the heart of these debates was the amount of human participation required in salvation. As the debates were waged, the Augustinian, Lutheran and Calvinistic camps perfected the non-circularity of grace. Grace was 100% the work and initiative of God. Humans cannot repay grace. They shouldn't even try. If we tried to repay grace we'd destroy it. We'd be trying to earn grace, trapping ourselves in a works-based righteousness.

And so the assumption took hold. Grace escapes repayment.

And yet, if you read Paul, that conclusion seems off. And that's the point that Barclay makes. Paul didn't perfect non-circularity. Theologians did, and we do, but Paul didn't.

According to Barclay, Paul most definitely felt that grace should be repaid, that grace created bonds of obligation.

Writes Barclay (p. 569): "The incongruity of grace does not imply, for Paul, ... its non-circularity (since the gift carries expectations for obedience)."

Barclay calls this Paul's theology of "gift-obligation" (p. 498):

[T]he notion of a gift "with no strings attached" was practically unimaginable in antiquity...None of Paul's hearers would have been surprised to learn that as recipients of the divine gift they were placed under obligation to God.

For Paul, grace creates a covenantal bond, and covenantal bonds were most definitely circular and reciprocal. Think of the relationship between YHWH and Israel. Think about how Paul, after describing the gift of grace in the first part of his letters, turns to the big THEREFORE in the second half, the part where Paul shifts to behavioral imperatives. Grace obligates you.

So is this works-based righteousness?

Yes and no.

No, in the sense that grace--God's election--is what establishes the covenantal bond. God's election poured out upon the unworthy is 100% God's work and initiative. Truly, we didn't deserve it and we were incapable of making contact with God.

But yes in that, once we have been welcomed into the covenantal family and given the empowerment of the Holy Spirit, we have ongoing obligations to fulfill, to both God and each other. Grace obliges you to love.

And if you don't fulfill those obligations, if you spurn grace and grieve the Holy Spirit, you drop out of the family. You "fall from grace." 

Barclay notes that, because of the church historical debates we've inherited about "faith vs. works", we find this mixture in Paul to be paradoxical. But as Barclay noted in the quote above, the incongruity of grace does not imply its non-circularity.

Barclay summarizes (p. 500):

Paul thus combines two features that appear paradoxical only to us. On the one hand, he perfects the incongruity of the gift, its donation to those unfitting to be its recipients; on the other, he presumes its strongly obligating character...Here it is crucial to remind ourselves that a perfection of gift in one dimension does not entail a perfection in every other: Paul perfects the incongruity of the gift (given to the unworthy) but he does not perfect its non-circularity (expecting nothing in return). The divine gift in Christ was unconditioned (based on no prior conditions) but it is not unconditional (carrying no subsequent demands).

Grace is unconditioned, but not unconditional.

Let that sink in.

On Monday ACU started classes and Dr. Michael Sorrell gave our opening chapel address. Very much worth a listen. Makes me proud to be a Wildcat that this is how we chose to start the school year in 2017.