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1. David Landes, The Wealth and Poverty of Nations: Why Some Are So Rich and Some So Poor. Landes is professor emeritus of economics at Harvard and also taught at George Washington University. This is a masterful survey of the history of economic development in the entire world, by region, over the last 500 years.

2. Hernando De Soto, The Mystery of Capital: Why Capitalism Triumphs in the West and Fails Everywhere Else. An excellent, insightful book about the need for people to have the right to own property and relatively easy access to obtain a publicly documented title to that property, in order for an economy to grow and people to overcome poverty.

3. William Easterly, The Elusive Quest for Growth. Easterly has also written The White Man’s Burden more recently, but I have not yet read it. He explains why aid to Africa has never really solved the problems of poverty in Africa.

4. P. T. Bauer, Equality, the Third World, and Economic Delusion. Bauer, who died in 2002, was emeritus professor of economics at London School of Economics and a specialist in development economics. He tells in detail why all the British aid to African countries over decades did more harm than good. It distorted local economies and entrenched corrupt governments in power, and had many other negative consequences.

5. Robert Guest, The Shackled Continent. Guest, Africa editor for The Economist, describes in vivid detail the barriers to economic development in Africa.

6. Brian Griffiths, The Creation of Wealth. Griffiths taught at London School of Economics and was adviser to Margaret Thatcher. Now in House of Lords, he gives principles for a Christian perspective on how economies grow.

7. Bjorn Lomborg, The Skeptical Environmentalist. Lomborg, a statistics professor from Denmark, shows that we are not running out of any natural resource, and we won’t run out in the future. But the world is short on knowledge of true facts about the state of natural resources.

8. Several writings of Julian Simon, especially The Resourceful Earth, The State of Humanity, and The Ultimate Resource II. Simon was a professor of business and economics in Maryland.

9. I plan to read Dambisa Moyo, Dead Aid: Why Aid Is Not Working and How There Is a Better Way for Africa. Moyo, a Zambia native, has an MA from Harvard and a Ph.D. in economics from Oxford. She was a consultant for the World Bank and then worked at Goldman Sachs. She argues that aid mostly entrenches corrupt African governments in power.

Here are some books on economic systems in general and the great flaws of socialism and government control:

10. Jay Richards, Money, Greed, and God: Why Capitalism Is the Solution and Not The Problem. This is now my top recommendation for people who want to understand economic systems from a Christian point of view.

11. Arthur Brooks, The Battle: How the Fight Between Free Enterprise and Big Government Will Shape America’s Future. Brooks argues that what gives people genuine satisfaction in the economic realm is not to be given money but to achieve “earned success”—the opportunity to have a responsibility (even if small) and to do well at it.

12. Friedrich Hayek, The Road to Serfdom. Hayek was Austrian who fled from Hitler. He became an economics professor at London School of Economics and watched with dismay as socialism grew in England. He explains how government control expands inch by inch until it takes over all of life. This all-time classic was written in 1944, with a 50th anniversary edition released in 2004.

13. Henry Hazlitt, Economics in One Lesson. Hazlitt was a long-time editor at The Wall Street Journal. First published in 1946, this book has become a classic. It is a wonderful book that explains how every action in the economy has more than one consequence. When we realize this we can understand better how an economy works.

Here are two books that I found unpersuasive (or wrong) in terms of explaining why nations become wealthy:

14. Jared Diamond, Guns, Germs, and Steel. I found Diamon’s argument unconvincing because it was completely materialistic and deterministic, from an entirely evolutionary perspective, allowing no role for human choice and decisions and initiative. He thinks physical geography determines everything!

15. Jeffrey Sachs, The End of Poverty. I was not convinced by Sachs, because I heard him saying that we have given X amount of money in the past but that has not solved the problem so the solution is that we need to give X + 1 or even 2X amount and that will solve the problem. Sachs is an economics professor but he also has another job advising the United Nations how to give such money away.

Not all “perspectives” or “views” books are equally rewarding. Their value hinges on the success of each contributor in representing his position well and arguing his case clearly and persuasively. A failure on this score, even in degree, quickly minimizes the value of the book. Because many of us who pick up a book of this type have already hammered out our position to one degree or another, we hope for good challenges to our thinking from all sides. In all these ways Perspectives on the Sabbath must be judged a success. Each of the contributors helpfully presents his case and, therefore, contributes to the Christian cause of learning.

The four contributors are, in order,

• Skip MacCarty, pastor, Pioneer Memorial Church, Andrews University, Berrien Springs, Michigan, representing the Seventh-day Adventist position;
• Joseph A. Pipa, president and professor of historical and systematic theology, Greenville Presbyterian Theological Seminary, representing the “Christian Sabbath” position;
• Charles P. Arand, chairman, department of systematic theology, Concordia Seminary, representing the confessional Lutheran position;
• Craig L. Blomberg, distinguished professor of New Testament, Denver Seminary, representing the fulfillment view.

Following the established “views” and “perspectives” approach, each author’s case is presented in turn, followed by responses from the others. One helpful innovation in this book is the space given to the author, then, to give a final word of response, rounding out the discussion well.

Of course arguing a case well and having a good case to argue are two very different things. And besides that, we all inevitably approach such books with a bias already in place, leaving it difficult to appreciate the full weight of every argument presented by each contributor. Confessing up front my sympathy with Blomberg on this issue, and not wanting to contribute to the degree of emotion and even rancor that has too-often accompanied this particular subject, I will offer some observations that I trust are objective. I will try to limit my comments primarily to exegetical matters.

Recapping and Evaluating the Positions

Blomberg shows an impressive grasp of the New Testament understanding of the Old Testament and in particular the significance of Christ as the “fulfiller” of the Old Testament law. His argument is heavily New Testament-oriented, highlighting the various passages that touch the Sabbath theme. He understands the Sabbath as a type of the rest realized in Christ. As I mentioned, I am in sympathy with this view, and the exegetical grounding Blomberg provides is clearly presented and, to my mind at least, compelling. He helpfully summarizes the arguments for his position, presenting Christ as the fulfiller of the Sabbath within the larger theme of Jesus’ fulfillment of all that was anticipated in the various types and shadows of the Old Testament.

Arand’s chapter surveys Luther’s treatment of the Ten Commandments, which I found to be fascinating and informative reading. Luther’s understanding of the meaning and role of the first command (the first and second in the Reformed and more common evangelical enumeration) within the Decalogue offers valuable insight. And Luther’s emphasis on the role of the Word of God and the gospel preached on Sunday as what makes the day holy, strictly sustainable exegetically or not, is again a valuable insight. Arand’s position is not strictly Sabbatarian, although priority is given to Sunday as the day in which Christians are given opportunity to be sanctified by the preached Word. But at the end of it all, what Arand provides is merely an essay in historical theology and not an exegetical defense of any Sabbath position. Genuinely helpful and enjoyable as it is in itself in many respects (I am sure I will refer to it again in my exposition of the Ten Commandments), it does not constitute a formidable polemic.

MacCarty and Pipa have much in common. MacCarty argues that the seventh-day Sabbath (Saturday) remains binding on the new covenant believer. Pipa holds a similar view, the primary difference of course being that he holds that the Sabbath has been moved to Sunday, the first day of the week. Both heavily stress the opening verses of Genesis 2–that God blessed and sanctified the seventh day–and present the well-known argument that here God established Sabbath observance as a “creation ordinance,” obligatory to all humanity. The exegetical evidence for this–that God here imposes a Sabbath observance of any kind on humanity–is notoriously thin. And the argument advanced by Pipa that it is not “the seventh day” after all but simply “a day in seven” that is imposed is thinner yet. The text just doesn’t say all that this argument requires of it. At the very least we must admit that there just is not enough here to persuade any but the already convinced.

Similarly, both MacCarty and Pipa appeal to “the alien who is within your gates” clause in the Sabbath command (Ex. 20:8-11) as evidence that the Sabbath is binding on Jews and Gentiles alike. But again, the text just doesn’t say that much. It is a command to Israel concerning the behavior of all those within her community. That it can be broadened to universal application is simply not something expressly warranted. And their argument that the death penalty assigned to the violation of the Sabbath indicates the perpetual character of the command or that sabbatismos in Hebrews 4:9 must refer to a Sabbath (day) observance, again, in context, will not be persuasive but to those already in agreement. And we might say the same in regard to the argument that the Sabbath is “eternal, moral law” because it is part of the Decalogue. These arguments simply lack compelling exegetical strength. Necessary as these arguments are to the case, surely something more weighty is needed to sustain them.

Similarly, in Colossians 2:16-17 and Galatians 4:10-11 Paul’s prohibits Christians to enforce the Sabbath, and when we are told that this refers not to Sabbath day observance but other “Jewish” or “legalistic” observances, we are left wondering if the original readers could have understood him in such a restricted way. The exegesis is just not compelling. So also, interpreting Jesus’ assertion that he is “Lord of the Sabbath” to mean merely that he has the right to interpret Sabbath law seems to fall far short of Jesus’ claim. B. B. Warfield stated it better: “It [the Sabbath] belongs to him. He is the Lord of it; master of it–for that is what ‘Lord’ means. He may do with it what he will: abolish it if he chooses.” To be sure, Jesus does not at this point abolish the Sabbath, but interpreting his claim as something less authoritative leaves the reader suspicious either that the interpreter is unable to accommodate the possible attending implications and/or that the overall argument itself is unable to accommodate all the relevant exegetical data.

On a related score–and this observation edges in to matters of hermeneutics also–the Old Testament emphasis in MacCarty and Pipa is telling. Is it too much, given a Christian Sabbatarianism, to ask that the New Testament provide us with instructions on how to keep the Sabbath in this age? Here Pipa responds to this need, surprisingly, with expositions from Isaiah. Certainly we must not deprecate the older revelation in any way. But again, is it too much to ask for New Testament instruction concerning the keeping of a day that otherwise seems to have been left behind? The specific New Testament teaching given to the church regarding the Sabbath–e.g., Romans 14:5; Colossians 2:16-17; Galatians 4:10-11–seems at first blush, at least, plainly to indicate that Sabbath observance is no longer a Christian duty. We are asked, however, to understand these passages in ways that are not immediately evident, and this not on the force of a New Testament command but on presuppositions which themselves rest on the thinnest of Old Testament exegesis.

New Testament passages such Matthew 5:17ff and 1 Corinthians 9:19-23 point us in a better direction. New covenant believers ought to look first to Christ (and, by extension, his apostles) for the right understanding and application of Moses. In terms of the Sabbath this means that we now understand the Sabbath day to have been a shadow pointing forward to a reality now enjoyed in Christ (Col. 2:16-17). Coming to Jesus we find the rest (Matt. 11:28) that was previously anticipated but not fully realized in the observance of a day (Heb. 3-4)—a theme Blomberg traces out clearly and compellingly.

It might have been helpful to Blomberg’s case if he had addressed more fully the question of why Christians worship on Sunday. He highlights this up front in his article, and in most respects his answer is sufficient. However, more would be helpful for those looking on from a Sabbatarian perspective. There are of course good reasons for “going to church” on Sunday, even if these reasons are not tied to the Sabbath command. It would serve a non-sabbatarian position well to cover this base as thoroughly as possible in order to satisfy questions and concerns Sabbatarians inevitably will have. Indeed, perhaps he could borrow (and tweak) a page from Luther here!

Weight of Considerations

Perspectives on the Sabbath is an enjoyable read throughout, certainly the best of the various views available in a single volume. And I think the various representatives generally present the best case possible for their views. But the weight of exegetical considerations in this argument seem clearly to favor the view that Christ soteriologically fulfills the Sabbath–what was previously prefigured only typologically. This book bears out this impression.

I should mention something also in regard to the pleasant tone that prevails in this volume (the only exception to this being the unnecessary charge of “antinomianism” that once made its way into one of the responses). It is, after all, an in-house debate, and the overall courtesy of the authors reflects this well. Their interaction is direct and pointed at times, as it must be in a book like this, but the mutual respect remains. The disagreements among Christians on this issue are not likely to go away, but in this regard the authors helpfully model ongoing discussion. Because of its format and the overall substance and tone of the arguments presented, Perspectives on the Sabbath helpfully contributes to the discussion.

There are two dangers that books addressing the issues of conversion and assurance must avoid. On one hand, there is the danger of introspection: an over-emphasis on our inner experience that neglects (or at least fails to give proper weight to) the great objective realities of atonement, resurrection, and justification. But there is also the danger of presumption. This can happen even when an author holds orthodox views of the objective realities of the gospel, if he or she fails to clarify and apply the biblical criteria for assurance to the hearts of the readers.

Even some of the best books in the history of the church lean toward one ditch or the other. Jonathan Edwards’s Religious Affections (a book that I love!) is sometimes overly introspective. Yes, Edwards’s analysis of what distinguishes true Christian affections is profound. His application is probing. But even the best of Christians can feel shaken in their assurance when reading Edwards. On the other hand, some of Martin Luther’s statements border on dangerous presumption. Of course, Luther’s exuberant faith in the finished work of Christ is exhilarating, even intoxicating. But it does seem a bit much for him to tell Melanchthon, “Be a sinner and sin boldly” (Letter No. 99)–especially when the apostle John said, “These things I write unto you that you sin not” (1 John 2:1)!

Well, in reading through Mike McKinley’s Am I Really a Christian?, I initially thought it leaned a little too far on the introspective side. The chapter titles themselves could give this impression. “You are Not a Christian,” declare the first seven chapters, “Just Because You Say that You Are,” “If You Haven’t Been Born Again,” “Just Because You Like Jesus,” “If You Enjoy Sin,” “If You Do Not Endure to the End,” “If You Don’t Love Other People,” or “If You Love Your Stuff.” The second chapter, in particular, sets out McKinley’s bottom-line criterion for answering the question “what does it mean to be a true Christian” with the doctrine of new birth. This becomes the rubric with which the majority of the book develops. “A Christian is someone who has received the new birth as a free gift from God” (p. 30). The main body of the work then focuses on five evidences of new birth – “Five Things All Christians Have”:

• Belief in true doctrine
• Hatred for sin in your life
• Perseverance over time
• Love for other people, and
• Freedom from love of the world (p. 39).

McKinley develops these evidences in the following chapters, clearly rooting his statements in Scripture and lacing his comments with fresh illustrations and wise, pastoral application.

Focusing on the doctrine and evidences of new birth is, of course, very biblical. Just read 1 John. There is certainly nothing heretical in McKinley’s statements. But a singular focus on regeneration can be lop-sided, unbalanced. I recall Martyn Lloyd-Jones writing somewhere that later in life he realized that he had, early on, overemphasized the doctrine of regeneration to the neglect of the doctrine of justification by faith, and that this emphasis had an unhealthy effect on people. We need not only the Johannine emphasis on new birth but also the Pauline emphasis on justification. These are complementary to one another, not contradictory, and our preaching, teaching, and writing should reflect this canonical balance. And so I wondered, in the first seven chapters of the book, if McKinley was leaning too much in the direction of introspection (though I should acknowledge that there are several pages on the “Objective Content” of the gospel in chapter two).

But when I got to chapter eight (“Can I Really Ever Know If I Am a Christian?”), my misgivings disappeared. McKinley acknowledges the tension many readers will feel. It is difficult to map onto our own lives the black-and-white biblical principles asserted thus far in the book. McKinley even sketches out half a dozen case studies to show just how hard it is. “Given that we all fail to meet these standards, how could anyone claim to be a genuine follower of Christ?” he asks. “And how can anyone have assurance” (p. 123). And then he masterfully unpacks the basis of our assurance in Jesus himself: what he was like, what he has done, and what he has promised. Convicted by the heart-searching application of the preceding chapters, the desperate reader is now directed away from self to Christ: his merciful character, his finished work, and his magnificent promises. “Do you struggle with doubting yourself?” the author asks. “Then stop thinking about yourself this very second, turn the eyes of your heart toward him, and trust him. Do it right now!” (p. 128) Yes! Mild critique gives way to warm praise.

Another counterbalance to the introspection in the early chapters is McKinley’s healthy emphasis on the role of the church in helping people discern whether or not they are genuine Christians. The seeds of this appear in some of the early chapters (see, for example, pages 14 and 72), but they come to full bloom in chapter nine. McKinley demonstrates how vigorous ecclesiology also helps steer us away from an overly individualistic, introspective, experienced-centered approach to assurance. This focus on the local church is not surprising in a 9Marks book written by a pastor, but very welcome on this particular topic. In fact, when compared with other recent treatments of conversion and assurance, this might be the unique contribution of the book.

So, taken as a whole, McKinley does a fine job of steering clear of both too much introspection and careless presumption. Written at a popular level, this is a balanced and biblical book that will prompt self-examination in all readers. With the Spirit’s blessing, Am I Really a Christian? will help nominal Christians take a deep and honest look at their lives and also point struggling, doubting believers to the finished and sufficient work of the crucified and risen Christ.

First, these books are being published very quickly after the Bell’s book began mailing and hitting shelves. The obvious reason for this was how much the blogs dominated this discussion. Most of the notable reviews occurred within a few days of the book’s publication date. Subsequent reviews seemed dated and almost had to interact with others reviews as much as the book itself. So the speed of these publications says something of the speed of how quickly a discussion heightens and then passes.

Second, I was amazed by the number of self-published books. I only included one below, but there were a handful of other authors who had been published elsewhere. Perhaps some publishers believe this discussion has already peaked, so the golden publishing opportunity has passed. Another possible reason could be that some authors probably wanted to publish their thoughts faster than what a normal publication schedule demands for printing and marketing.

I’m sure there are more books that are still to come, but here are some notable ones that are available or will be soon:

Christ Alone: An Evangelical Response to Rob Bell’s Love Wins by Michael Wittmer—This was the first published response to Bell’s book. You can read TGC’s review.

Is Hell for Real or Does Everyone Go To Heaven? edited by Christopher Morgan and Robert Peterson. From what I can tell, this book addresses the greater issues of universalism and the doctrine of hell in evangelicalism, not simply Rob Bell.

God Wins: Heaven, Hell, and Why the Good News Is Better than Love Wins, by Mark Galli. Not too many people have written more on Bell’s book than Galli, the senior managing editor at Christianity Today. Now his book shares his greater concerns.

Erasing Hell: What God Said About Eternity, and the Things We Made Up by Francis Chan. This may be the most anticipated response of all. Like Bell did, Chan has released a promotional video.

Dan Ebert, Wisdom Christology: How Jesus Becomes God’s Wisdom for Us. Phillipsburg, NJ: Presbyterian & Reformed, 2011. (Sample PDF here.)

It’s endorsed by Don Carson, Doug Moo, Chris Morgan, and Mark Gignilliat.

Dan Ebert served as a missionary in Asia from 1977 to 1999,  then taught at Clearwater Christian College for nine years, and now teaches at Cedarville University. He wrote his dissertation under D. A. Carson: “Wisdom in New Testament Christology with Special Reference to Hebrews 1:1–4” (PhD diss., Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, 1998).

Dan graciously agreed to answer some questions about his book:

What do you mean by “wisdom Christology”?

This is certainly the right question. I am pleased that the publisher settled for the title Wisdom Christology because it gets right to the heart of the matter: how do Christ and wisdom interface? Three issues are wrapped up with this question: one is academic, one theological, and the third practical.

1. Academics. Certain streams of biblical and theological scholarship have played loose with the identification between Jesus and an antecedent Wisdom figure, sometimes called Lady Wisdom or Sophia. As a result the expression “wisdom Christology” has been hijacked by all sorts of ideas alien to the biblical witness. But I am not willing to give up the expression itself, and so in part I have been trying to reclaim it. The Church desperately needs the Christological wisdom of the New Testament.

This brings us to the next two questions: how is a proper wisdom Christology constructed, and what is its practical application?

2. Theological Construction. Along with the basic New Testament narrative concerning Jesus, certain key texts provide much of the biblical data for the orthodox doctrine of Christ. I deal with several of these passages in Wisdom Christology. These texts are discrete units that reveal Christ’s participation in the divine identity, and they highlight his role in revelation, creation, and redemption. These apostolic testimonies to Jesus can be described as “confessions” of the gospel.

Christ certainly was a “sage” or wisdom teacher, and he does take up (and surpass) certain features of Old Testament wisdom. But what is most important is that these heightened Christological passages celebrate the gospel. And it is precisely the gospel, with all its Christological richness, that is New Testament wisdom. This is best expressed in 1 Cor. 1:23–24, where Paul unequivocally identifies wisdom as “Christ crucified.”

3. Practical Application. These passages not only reveal the shape of God’s wisdom in Christ, but are actually doctrinal confessions applied to the practical life of the church. My thesis is that Christology functioned as wisdom in the early church. How could a church living in crisis be faithful? The answer was found in her confession of Christ as the wisdom of God.

In other words these Christological passages are functioning in their contexts precisely as wisdom. So I am arguing that “wisdom Christology” has two senses:

• It refers to Christ in all his crucified glory as God’s wisdom.
• It refers to this Christology as it functions as wisdom for the needs of God’s people.

Chapters 1–6 in your book each explain a New Testament passage. How would you summarize the connection between Jesus and wisdom in each of those passages?

Part I studies two passages where Jesus and then the Apostle John invite us to God’s wisdom in Christ, and Part II analyzes four Christological passages that apply this gospel-wisdom to specific challenges in the church’s life.

1. Matthew 11:29. Jesus invites us into his school of wisdom, calling us to take on his “yoke.” First-century Judaism understood this metaphorical yoke to refer to the law, namely, Israel’s wisdom (e.g., Sirach 51:26). Jesus shifts wisdom’s center of gravity from Torah to himself, inviting us to study at his feet.
2. John 1:1–18. John’s prologue, at the very center of its concentric structure, is the apostle’s implied invitation to receive Christ as the supreme Word of God (1:13). While John does not use the word “wisdom,” the prologue is filled with language of revelation: “word,” “light,” “truth,” “made known.” John identifies Jesus as that higher wisdom that is rooted in special access to God (1:1–2, 18) and that is not known by the world (1:10). Again wisdom’s orientation shifts from the law to Christ and the gospel (1:17). Christ as divine wisdom reveals God, creates the universe, and saves the world.
3. 1 Corinthians 1:18–24, 30–31; 8:6. Paul explicitly identifies Christ with the wisdom of God. First Corinthians 1:18–25 is one cohesive paragraph; it begins and ends with the same point: the gospel is God’s counterintuitive wisdom and power manifested in Christ.
4. Colossians 1:15–20. The three wisdom motifs in John’s Gospel resurface here. Christ as the Son is the revealer of God, the sustaining Creator and center of the universe, and the Redeemer who brings redemption and peace.
5. Philippians 2:5–11. This chapter may most clearly illustrate the thesis of Wisdom Christology. On the one hand, Paul celebrates Christ and his cross-work (what he calls the wisdom of God in 1 Cor. 1:24, 30); he sets Christ’s obedience unto death, “even the death of the cross,” at the literary center of this text. On the other hand, this divine wisdom becomes wisdom for the daily life of the church as believers are called to have Christ’s “mind” (a synonym for wisdom) in their common life together (2:5).
6. Hebrews 1:1–4. Some commentators have argued that the author of Hebrews presents Jesus in the guise of Lady Wisdom. While I would qualify this, the author does masterfully build on earlier confessional material to announce God’s Son as the supreme revealer of God, the powerfully qualified Redeemer-Priest, and the exalted messianic king who rules the universe. Again we see the three wisdom themes of revealer, creator, and redeemer.

You write, “The primary focal point of this study is the application of Christology to issues in the life of the New Testament church” (p. 5). What are some specific applications?

Let’s consider the situations at Corinth and Philippi:

1. Corinth. A major problem for the church at Corinth was a divisive spirit. This was caused by pride in human wisdom. It is in this context that Paul explicitly calls Christ “the wisdom of God.” Such wisdom has its foundation in the Son’s participation as “the Lord of Glory” in the identity of God (1 Cor. 2:8; 8:6). But such wisdom is also defined by the Son’s sacrificial death for others. The content of this wisdom is Christ and the cross-centered gospel. Identifying “Christ crucified” as God’s wisdom sets aside all human wisdom and self-confidence and points us toward the way of the cross as our model for life. To illustrate the ethical implications of this wisdom, Paul later applies it to the situation of proud believers who were not properly caring for weaker brothers in the practical matter of meat offered to idols. Believers must not have a knowledge that puffs up, but imitate Christ’s wisdom and sacrificially love one another (1 Cor. 8:1).
2. Philippi. The Roman citizens of Philippi, along with the power elite of the empire, prided themselves in status and self-advancement. To help the church live as true citizens of heaven, Paul presents a hymn-like confession in which the center is the cross of Christ. The way of the cross models life for believers in the world. The cross is the place where God’s redemptive wisdom is found, but it is also the place where God manifests his own heart. Such wisdom means humility, being oriented toward others, and following the way of the cross—the divine path to exaltation and glory. This is exemplified not only in Christ’s life and death but also in Paul’s life and in the life of his coworkers. Such wisdom functions in a practical way to unify church leaders. This is the kind of practical Christian wisdom that our churches need today.

The Gospel Coalition has been highlighting resources on preaching Christ in the Old Testament. How does your book help people in this regard?

These confessional texts and New Testament Christology in general have multiple Old Testament roots. So when students of the New Testament locate such a strand (particularly one related to creation, redemption, and revelation) the proper move would be to

1. run the theme through the OT,
2. then to the life and ministry of Jesus, and
3. finally to a confession about Christ in one of these apostolic texts.

Consider “wisdom” in Proverbs 8. Like the function of other Old Testament figures and institutions (e.g., prophets, angels, Torah, temple), Wisdom culminates in Christ. If I were preaching from Proverbs 8, I would look earlier to God’s creation by his word in Genesis 1. Then I would move forward to Christ’s public ministry, with his verbal power over creation exhibited in his nature miracles. I would then land in John’s prologue, which emphasizes the Word and the Son’s creative power. Or one could end in Hebrews 1:1–4, where the Son’s creative power symmetrically aligns with his redemptive power (i.e., the one who “made” all things is the same one who “made” cleansing for sin).

The practical takeaway is that we can be confident that the gospel is the wisdom and power of God (Rom 1:16). God powerfully removes our sins. This helps God’s people see that the Old and New Testaments cohere, that Christology is rich, and that the gospel is climactically important.

N. D. Wilson and Douglas Wilson, authors of The Rhetoric Companion, want preachers, public speakers, writers, and all of us who must give an account to speak with effective and biblical persuasiveness. They insist that there is a Christian approach to rhetoric, despite its bad reputation. So I asked them a few questions to help tease out their counsel for areas such as preaching and cultural engagement.

What is rhetoric? And why does it usually have a bad reputation today?

In our text, we modify Quintilian’s definition, which is “the art of a good man speaking well.” But of course, words like good have to be understood by Christians in a Christian context. Now that Christ has come, we have God’s incarnate revelation of what a good man is actually like. Ancient rhetoric has to accompany the magi in order to bow before Christ. Rhetoric has a bad reputation today, because for most people it means something more like “the art of a bad man speaking manipulatively.” But when people dismiss bombast or demagoguery as “just a bunch of rhetoric,” they are condemning something that a true understanding of rhetoric also condemns.

In 1 Corinthians, when Paul rejects the “wisdom of words,” the “disputing of this world,” “excellency in speech or wisdom,” or “enticing words of man’s wisdom,” isn’t he rejecting rhetoric?

No, but he most certainly is rejecting a certain approach to it. When man is thought to be the measure of all things, as was the case with many ancient instructors of rhetoric, the result can be impressive. But the world through all its wisdom could not come to know God. Rhetoric apart from Christ is impressive and yet hollow . . . like a blimp. To make Paul’s rejection extra zesty, bear in mind that he was most likely thoroughly familiar with the apostles of ancient rhetoric (Aristotle, etc.) and their disciples. He’s pretty pointedly taking a shot at the way things were done in the smart set. It would be like one of us getting up to speak at an Apple convention and dismissively sneering at touch screens—practically blasphemy.

How is rhetoric related to Christian preaching?

Since Christian preaching is a public declaration of the Christian gospel, there are many aspects of rhetoric that will obviously apply to a sermon. To take a modest example, a preacher, just like a statesman or an attorney, should know what he is going to be talking about before he stands up. A very good application of classical rhetoric to Christian preaching can be found in R. L. Dabney’s fine book, Evangelical Eloquence.

How has our postmodern society affected the way we think about rhetoric and persuasion?

Postmodernism is really nothing new. It is just ancient sophistry in a rented tux. Lots of mouth and no muscle. But what we say in the book most directly collides with both modernism and its wee post when we discuss the nature of proof. Skip papa modernism’s crusade for humanistic omniscience and you skip postmodernism’s adolescent daddy issues.

You observe that, today, most are nervous about using pathos (emotion) when trying to persuade. Why?

They are rightly jumpy about someone using emotions to (cynically) manipulate an audience. If a politician can summon up a tear the same way a professional actor can, the insincerity is obvious. And insincere persuasion is not something that Christians can accept. But consider it the other way around. With certain topics, if a speaker is not moved emotionally himself, then he clearly does not believe what he himself is saying. If he did believe it, then he would have to be moved. Pathos can be abused, just like every other element of public speech—but for Christians its entire absence must also be considered an abuse.

Define copiousness and explain how it relates to rhetoric.

Copiousness means to have an abundance of responses, answers, quotations, and so forth, at one’s fingertips, ready to use. As such, it obviously relates to rhetoric. A speaker should not continue on until he has exhausted his store of information. He should stop well before that point. But he should stop in such a way as to indicate that he could go on if he had to. You don’t have to dump the whole truck to persuade people that you have something in the truck.

You suggest that reading great books gives great copiousness. Can you suggest five great authors to read regularly?

1. C. S. Lewis

2. G. K. Chesterton

3. P. G. Wodehouse

4. H. L. Mencken

5. J. R. R. Tolkien

Obviously, you should only read people with a fondness for initials. (Or maybe it was the periods they liked.)

And five great works to get us started?

1. Orthodoxy, Chesterton

2. The Code of the Woosters, Wodehouse

3. The Four Loves, Lewis

4. A Mencken Chrestomathy, Mencken

5. The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien

Enter Wendy Horger Alsup, author of By His Wounds You Are Healed: How the Message of Ephesians Transforms a Woman’s Identity. She is also the author of Practical Theology for Women, which was birthed out of a class she taught.

Alsup wrote By His Wounds You are Healed to show Christian women their spiritual inheritance in Christ and the wealth of transformative grace available to them because Christ paid their debt on the cross (9). But this book is not for the faint of heart. She does not write to cater to emotions or the latest fad. She writes to help women see the wealth of truth written in God’s Word. While there are countless excellent commentaries and studies out there on the book of Ephesians, the benefit of this study is that it was written by a solid, Christ-saturated woman with the hearts of women in mind. Women need theology and in-depth Bible study just as much as men do. Alsup understands that and answers the call.

The book is divided into four sections based on the distinct themes in Ephesians, going from the deeply theological to the practical applications of these truths. She is clear early on that the book is not a verse-by-verse commentary on Ephesians, but instead focuses on the message of Paul in the book of Ephesians by trying to give a cohesive overview of key themes and points. The length of chapters and detail is varied to meet this objective (9).

The primary theme carried throughout the book is that we have a glorious inheritance in Christ because of his redemptive work on the cross. Her unpacking of how and why we receive this inheritance, as well as how this inheritance changes us, is really helpful (40-43). Ephesians 2:1-10 contains amazing truths about who we were before God in his great love and mercy rescued us and made us alive in Christ. This has tremendous implications for how we live. We can now “spend” our spiritual inheritance on good works that bring glory to the Father (43). Each chapter contains practical examples, based on the message of the text, which encourage thoughtful consideration of how our spiritual inheritance works out in our lives.

Our spiritual inheritance in Christ should carry with it a desire to be with our spiritual family. Alsup writes in a way that assumes our involvement with the local church. She doesn’t write for the lone-rangers in Christianity. While she is realistic about the failings of the church, she doesn’t use these failings as an excuse to shun commitment to Christ’s body. Rather, she recognizes that it is within the context of the local church that we learn how to spend our spiritual inheritance and grow more in our identity in Christ.

Ephesians contains some of the clearest passages on God’s view of the marital relationship, in addition to other key relationships. Alsup spends three chapters explaining the often controversial passage of Ephesians 5:21-33 (123-134). She helpfully dives into submission by providing sensitive encouragement for women who are, or have been, abused (123). Abuse is a sad reality in the church and in the greater culture. Often those who disagree with complementariansim have used abuse as a reason to discredit the entire position. Alsup seems to know this as she writes, and therefore she speaks clearly regarding the Bible’s teaching that submission is not subordination or servitude, or even a license for abuse. Instead, it is obedience to God by both the husband (the authority) and the wife (the one submitting) (123-126). By focusing on the greatest submission of all, Christ to the Father, she presents a bold vision for women that goes beyond the mere day-to-day operation of who makes the decisions. She is showing us that by submitting to our husbands we are emulating our Savior, who though he was equal with God laid his life down willingly to serve the Father’s great purpose of redemption (125).

Like every good Bible study, this book includes discussion questions as you conclude each chapter. The chapters alone provide enough material to engage the heart and the mind, but the questions only solidify the truths represented. For women’s ministry leaders seeking a solid biblical study this would be a tremendous resource for the women of your church.

Alsup gets to the heart of the sin issues that plague us as women. But she doesn’t end there. She gives us Jesus, the one who bought our inheritance by his precious blood on Calvary and gave us a new identity in him, because by his wounds we are healed.

That Iain Murray would write another biography and that John MacArthur would have a biography written of him were both near certainties as the second decade of the 21st century opened. That both would happen in the same book is unexpected. Murray is the soft-spoken Scottish author and founder of the staunchly Reformed Banner of Truth Trust. MacArthur (last name notwithstanding) is the American Dispensational trumpeteer of expositional preaching who exudes an unapologetic zeal for truth.

Yet the two share significant affinities, and their paths have crossed many times, giving Murray a friendship and rich familiarity with MacArthur. The result is a biography well worth reading.

As Murray says more than once in the book, this is not a definitive biography but a sketch designed to clear the way for a more extensive work by another biographer down the road. Murray reviews MacArthur’s life in 17 chapters, beginning with childhood and education, taking the reader up to events as recent as 2010 before concluding with a chapter outlining a few of MacArthur’s many strengths. The bulk of the book tells the story of MacArthur’s 40-plus years pastoring Grace Community Church in Sun Valley, California.

The book is fascinating. Murray refuses to be tedious (with the exception of chapter 13, which reproduces letters of appreciation written by radio listeners of MacArthur that would be more at home in a family scrapbook than a biography). We learn of a horrific injury from a car accident in college (13–14), an out-of-the-blue mutiny on the part of MacArthur’s pastoral staff in 1979 (47–48), an extended lawsuit in which a suicide was blamed on bad counseling at MacArthur’s church (49–52), the “Lordship” controversy (111–19; more below), a magazine/journal that failed miserably (143–48), and another horrible car accident, this one involving MacArthur’s wife, Patricia (138–42). Amid such drama, Murray skillfully describes the more well-known aspects of MacArthur’s ministry—the emergence of Grace to You (the radio ministry), the development of the Shepherd’s Conference, the beginnings of the Master’s College in 1985 and the Master’s Seminary in 1986, and MacArthur’s many books.

Especially interesting is Murray’s handling of MacArthur’s theology. Take the Lordship controversy, for example. MacArthur argued in The Gospel According to Jesus (1988) that one cannot receive Jesus as Savior (in faith) without also receiving him as Lord (in repentance). This was a clear rebuttal of what MacArthur deemed a defective (antinomian) understanding of the gospel prevalent in evangelicalism, and especially Dispensationalism. Zane Hodges, professor at Dallas Theological Seminary, would be one of MacArthur’s loudest interlocutors. Those of a more Reformed persuasion applauded MacArthur’s efforts—yet it is this same Reformed crowd who, because of MacArthur’s Dispensationalism regarding how the two Testaments relate, have tended to distance themselves from him. Murray warmly describes the bridges that have been built between Reformed thinkers such as R. C. Sproul and MacArthur, yet the odd mix of convictions in MacArthur—soteriologically Calvinistic, redemptive-historically Dispensational—has made him something of a theological maverick in contemporary evangelicalism.

Murray also writes about MacArthur’s strong critique of the charismatic movement (119–22). Here Murray’s affinity with MacArthur may have prevented the clarity needed in discussing this issue—never, for example, was “charismatic” defined, despite the significant differences that exist among those who would attach themselves to this label.

A third area of helpful theological reflection was that of grace and law (122–25). One might quibble with Murray’s treatment of “law” in Paul, but he is certainly right to highlight the relationship between law and grace as a fundamental concern to MacArthur’s ministry.

More strengths to the book can easily and happily be noted.

First, Murray is a good writer—his words never require puzzling over; his transitions and structure are clear; he uses the English language skillfully. Second, Murray effectively allows MacArthur’s own voice to come through, quoting him neither too much nor too little. Third, Murray is not only a biographer (describing what has happened) but also a theologian (commending what is true) who refuses to check his theological convictions at the door when writing biography. We have already come to expect this of Murray in his works on Edwards, Wesley, Spurgeon, and Lloyd-Jones. Fourth, Murray admires without idolizing, consistently drawing the reader’s attention to God and his wise providence in MacArthur’s life.

Though drowned out by the strengths, one or two weaknesses might be identified.

The heart of MacArthur’s ministry is a passion for the truth, preached and taught without any people-pleasing subtlety. Such undiluted proclamation is startling and refreshing. As is so often the case, however, one’s greatest strength often includes with it one’s greatest weakness, and it is puzzling that Murray emphasizes the former while ignoring the latter. For MacArthur’s zeal for truth, communicated with forcefulness, has at times resulted in unwise or unfair statements. It is puzzling, for instance, that Murray declines to mention a pattern of overstatements. One thinks of MacArthur’s adamant message at the 2007 Shepherd’s Conference on “Why Every Calvinist Should Be a Premillennialist.” The title alone is difficult to swallow. Other examples of a zeal for God that is not according to knowledge could be brought forth, such as his wholesale dismissal of Mark Driscoll’s strategic ministry in Seattle, or his recent misguided comments about Darrin Patrick’s book on church planting.

What stands out above all in closing the book, however, is MacArthur’s steely love for truth, truth as revealed supremely in the Word of God. For this let us all give thanks for John MacArthur, quick to forgive any baggage this brings and quick to rejoice in this faithful expounder of Scripture. Iain Murray is right: John MacArthur is, above all, a servant of the Word and flock.

Evangelical talent today is preempted so that when holiness is discussed, it is often not dealt with as weightily as it deserves. In Reformation and Puritan days, theological and pastoral leaders of outstanding mental gifts . . . thought and taught constantly and at length about holiness.

He goes on to write:

The most distinguished evangelical theologians have not always been the most ardent exponents of holiness, and the most ardent evangelical exponents of holiness have not been the most reliable or judicious theologians.

What’s been the result?

The result is that much of our best modern theology (there are exceptions) is superficial about holiness, while modern treatments of holiness often lack the biblical insight, theological depth, and human understanding that are needed in order to do the subject justice.

This quote is from Packer’s 2004 2nd edition. The first edition was in 1984, which I’m assuming is when these quotes originated. Let’s assume that Packer is right and we are coming close to nearly 30 years since he made these observations. Have things changed? I tried quickly to come up with a few good titles by “distinguished evangelical theologians”:

• A Call For A Spiritual Reformation, D. A. Carson. I don’t know of a better book on prayer.
• Discipline of Grace: God’s Role and Our Role in the Pursuit of Holiness, Jerry Bridges. See also his Pursuit of Holiness.
• Seeing with New Eyes: Counseling and the Human Condition through the Lens of Scripture, David Powlison. Obviously, this book looks at the human condition as a counselor. But Powlison gives his readers the biblical categories to think through sanctification and holiness that takes sin seriously.
• You Can Change: God’s Transforming Power for Our Sinful Behavior and Negative Emotions, Tim Chester. Chester’s book is a good application of David Powlison and much of the biblical counseling movement.

There are several others, I’m sure. Am I missing an obvious one?

But I wonder, still, if our specialist mentality in academics compartmentalizes us to such an extent that, as Packer puts it, “the best evangelical brains have been put to work in other fields.”

Can anything new be said about the doctrine of Revelation and Scripture? We’ve had Augustine, Calvin, Westminster, and now a century of continued discussion since the watershed moment of Warfield, and we wonder with each new book on the subject what it could possibly have to offer. Truthfully, not a lot has been added since Warfield in terms of substance. But it is of the nature of divine revelation that it is inexhaustible and ever affords fresh insights into “old” truth. And in this volume well-known Reformed theologian John Frame provides the fruit of more than forty years of faithful and insightful reflection on this most basic doctrine.

Frame’s fourth and (likely) final volume of his Lordship series was published last year with the endorsements and high praise of many, including the enthusiastic foreword by J.I. Packer. Finally reading it myself, I was not at all disappointed.

Substantively Frame is of course thoroughly orthodox in his theological outlook. But he does offer a fresh approach and some new thinking. His “personal-word model” is effective — as God spoke to Abraham and to Noah, so he speaks to us today via his written Word. His emphasis on God’s Word as an expression of his authority and Lordship, while not entirely new, is refreshingly stated and sustained — God’s Word carries with it an obligation on our part to respond with trust, obedience, and all that is becoming to our Creator-creature, Redeemer-redeemed relationship. His tracing of God’s Word from God’s mouth to our hearts, through all its varied media, is likewise a very helpful dimension of the work.

Frame also provides a helpful tweak to the time-honored categories of general/special revelation. Well, actually he wants more than to tweak these categories: he wants to replace them with  the categories of “events, words, and persons” with further sub-distinctions within each. The general/special distinction enjoys such a firmly settled place in Christian theology that it is not likely that Frame’s reconstruction will prevail, but I found his suggestion to be helpful in sorting through and delineating the ways God has revealed himself. Indeed, I would enjoy seeing this part of his work fleshed out further. It will certainly find its way into my teaching.

Stylistically, one trait that stands out is Frame’s simplicity. Frame is a very clear writer, unusually able to communicate his thinking simply. This is high praise particularly given that Frame does introduce some new ideas to the discussion. His book is well within the grasp of any serious student.

Another highlight is Frame’s frank and utter confidence in “God’s Word written” (as Warfield was wont to describe it). His warning against “autonomous reasoning” and an accompanying call to submission to God’s Word is relevant and helpful (whether you share his presuppositionalism or not!). He writes as one seeking fuller understanding, yet ever mastered by his subject. He can be frank and even blunt at times, but always the tone is that of a worshiper — submissive to God’s expressed Lordship. This of course ought to mark all genuinely “Christian” scholarship.

Frame’s tome is a massive 684 pages, but it isn’t nearly as daunting as you might think. The book is divided rather evenly in two parts. In the first he develops his argument in 46 brief chapters, totaling just over 330 pages. The brevity of the many chapters, each compact and well-stated, makes for a sense of very quick progress — and for quick reference, I might add. The second half of the book is made up of a series of 17 appendices — book reviews and further elaborations of certain points touched on earlier in the work. I don’t recall another book of this size so easily and so quickly consumed.

All in all it is a fitting capstone to the Lordship series. It is likely that Warfield will remain the landmark in this doctrine for many years to come, but Frame does complement him well. He provides structural help at times that will benefit my own teaching, for which I am grateful, and his work is marked throughout by faithfulness, lucidity, persuasive argument, and even devotion, wonderfully positioning himself and the reader in submission to God’s Word. In short, it is refreshing, enriching and informative — all you could want in a book.

I love older pastors. They are a unique gift to the church and especially to younger pastors. This is why I was curious to read The Pastor by Eugene Peterson. This book of his memoirs is a glimpse into the life and ministry of this man who, although he pastored over 30 years and wrote many books, is best known as the author of the biblical paraphrase, The Message.

The Pastor is an easy to read, autobiographical account of one man’s journey in realizing his calling to be a pastor and the constant progression of life’s events that helped bring him to that place. Hence, the catch phrase of the book is “Every step an arrival.” The book begins with his childhood, family life, and living in what the author refers to as the “sacred ground” of Montana—a place to which he comes back throughout his life for rest and reflection. The storyline progresses into his early years of adulthood where his aspirations were to be a professor and teach languages. Peterson’s life took, however, an unexpected, abrupt turn as he came to realize he was to be a pastor, through a series of pivotal events and influential relationships. This brought him to the place of not just pastor, but church planter in the growing suburbs of Bel Air, Maryland where he pastored the church he planted for the next thirty years.

Three helpful lessons for pastoral ministry from this book:

There were several aspects of Peterson’s memoirs that prove beneficial to pastors serving in the trenches of pastoral ministry. Every pastor would do well to embrace and apply these lessons, regardless the kind of church or ministry you serve:

Be resistant to the consumer mindset of church.

Many of us reject the idea that tricks and novelty can in any way build a church, especially a healthy one. Peterson’s life-long rejection of this idea to appeal to the consumer to build a church made him a bit of a renegade in the prime of his ministry and is undeniable throughout the book. His conviction that Christ’s church should not look like the world is an important caution and should be heeded by those who are intensely focused on one primary generation in the church or who might be driven by consumerism in a more subtle form than they realize.

Realize pastoral ministry is largely about connecting with people.

One of the prevalent disconnects that exists on most seminary campuses is the one of theology and practicality. This disconnect will continue as these students take their first pastorates if they do not learn at some point what Peterson knew from the beginning and he faithfully held fast to throughout his ministry. The most engaging characteristic of this book is the way Peterson vividly describes his interactions with the different kinds of people he had met. These interactions helped mold him as a pastor and his understanding of pastoral ministry. The content of the book can be summarized by the people he knew, the experiences he had with them, and how those experiences made him the pastor he is. This book reflects that Peterson got something about ministry really right, and proved he knew what so many still need to learn. Pastoral ministry is largely about people and our long-term invest to care for them.

Growth as a pastor comes through trial and error.

Peterson emphasized that pastoral growth comes, not through further education or finding that niche of pragmatism, but from the way God uses our experiences in ministry to mature us, teach us, and make us wiser than before. This message from this seasoned man needs to be heard by every young aspiring pastor who thinks that next degree or popular conference is what will make them a faithful pastor, when some of the best pastoral preparation is to roll up your sleeves, get dirty and messy, and learn as you minister to God’s people.

Three concerns when reading The Pastor:

I  cautiously refer to these critiques as “concerns,” not to be disrespectful to my senior in the ministry who has seen and done much more than I. These concerns are only birthed from my reading of this book and are not based on a fuller evaluation of Peterson’s well-known ministry:

Be careful that your calling and ministry is evaluated by Scripture, not experience.

Although there is merit in the way God prepares a man for ministry through his experiences, Peterson placed an uncomfortable amount of focus on experience as that which identifies a pastor, instead of the biblical qualifications clearly mapped out for us in Scripture (1 Tim. 3:1-7, Titus 1:5-9, 1 Peter 5:1-4). In fact, the book ironically entitled, The Pastor, was eerily silent on the issues of internal and external calling in Scripture. According to this volume, which recounts Peterson’s personal experience and call as a pastor, calling is to be evaluated based on the happenstances of life instead of Scripture. Be careful that you do not evaluate your calling, pursuit of pastoral ministry, or your level of faithfulness in ministry by your experience alone.

Be discerning about your associations in pastoral ministry.

Peterson spoke of the value of networking and partnering with other pastors for the sake of fellowship, instruction, and encouragement, a concept with which I would heartily agree. My concern came from what seemed to be a lack of discernment in his doctrinally broad spectrum of associations. In regard to this “company of pastors” Peterson writes, “Theologically we covered the spectrum, from Christian to Jew, from conservative to liberal, and nearly every shade in between. This diversity did not divide us” (pg. 149).

He goes on to describe the most helpful counsel often came from the Jewish Rabbi as he instructed the Christian pastors. We can disagree with many issues of doctrine and practice and still benefit from a band of brothers who shepherd God’s people. However, we must draw certain lines in the sand of association, first of which should come when a pastor is not faithful to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Peterson accounts of clearly crossing that line all throughout his memoirs whether it be learning ministry from a Jewish Rabbi or a monk in a monastery. Be discerning of your pastoral associations for if the gospel is compromised, there is nothing of any eternal significance around which to associate.

Beware of theological ambiguity for the sake of mass appeal.

I was puzzled to read a 300+ page book on the memoirs of a pastor and come to the end with no idea of any substantial theological convictions Peterson possesses. That does not mean he lacks them, but after reading this book I am concerned they are not as pronounced as they should be coming from an older pastor reflecting on his life-long ministry. Although Peterson is very anti-consumer church, he also possesses a theological ambiguity that seems to be for pragmatic reasons. My hope in reading the memoirs of an older, well-known, and experienced pastor would be to rejoice with him in the great doctrines of the faith that have sustained him through all the challenges and difficulties of the trench work of pastoral ministry. Unfortunately, I could not.

Pastors, make sure as we reflect back on our own ministries that not just our experiences with our flock come to our minds. A confidence in God’s sovereignty, the hope of justification by faith alone in Christ, and the unchangeable attributes of our great God could never be absent as we share about those experiences, especially, if you are that unique gift of an older pastor.

What is sociology? John Macionis’s introductory textbook, with the title Sociology, defines sociology as “the systematic study of human society.” The textbook goes on to claim that there is a distinctive “sociological perspective” (p. 2). But there are difficulties concerning this definition. For one thing, as Macionis himself acknowledges, in the mainstream there are at least three major approaches to doing sociology (“scientific sociology,” “interpretive sociology,” and “critical sociology”). “Scientific sociology” is the kind of sociology that concentrates on statistics. But there are two other kinds. Sociologists themselves have not reached agreement as to which is right or whether they can be harmonized into a larger whole.

“Society” involves multiple human beings, and so encompasses relationships among persons. But as a Christian I believe that human beings and their relationships and the larger social groupings and institutions that we observe cannot be understood apart from God’s control, his meanings, his purposes, his presence, and the ways in which human beings as persons reflect on a finite plane the infinite personhood of God. Mainstream modern sociological analysis, by contrast, attempts to leave God out.  Human society is then considered as merely human, and personal relationships can only be purely human relationships, excluding our relationship with (or rebellion against) God. I start with personal relationships, rather than with abstract institutions like “the military” or “a business” or “the economy,” because I can then make clearer the tie between our relationships with fellow humans, our relationship with God, and the personal relationships among the persons of the Trinity. Relationships are vital to all of us, not merely to professional sociologists. Social institutions then can find their place, as products of God’s universal control, which includes control over all societies of the world.

What’s wrong with our current understanding of sociology that it needs redeeming?

I already mentioned the issue of leaving God out. The suppression of God’s presence is the most basic difficulty in most mainstream sociology. Sociology tends to think that it can dispense with God. Some sociologists may doubt whether God exists. Even if he does exist, they think that God is silent and inactive and irrelevant. So human relationships and human social structures are considered autonomous, virtually independent of God. And that leaves human beings free to proceed to seeing meanings and evaluations of humanity in which man takes the place of God. According to this view, for practical purposes we are virtually on our own. Sociology of religion is really no different, because religion is viewed as merely a human institution, not a response to God that God either approves or condemns.

In the definition of sociology, the phrase “human society” may look unproblematic. But when we ask fundamental questions, the difficulties multiply. What is “human”? The three sociologies differ on what they think is most fundamental. And what is “society”? Is it a stable structure or a scene of conflicts or a human “construction” of meaning? Different sociological theories have advocated each of these answers. Modern sociology, it turns out, needs critical inspection of its foundational assumptions about the very nature of “society.” The foundational assumptions make a difference not only in the questions that are asked, but in the kind of answers that are offered. Because of the assumption that God is absent and irrelevant, the questions leave God out. And so the answers will also leave him out. The irrelevance of God that has been presupposed at the foundation will be reflected in the implied irrelevance of God in the conclusions. By thinking through some of the ways in which God shows his presence, I hope to offer a positive alternative.

The issues surface with painful intensity when we contemplate human suffering and dysfunctional relationships. Human suffering in its global scope is enormous. It cries out for a remedy. And so people ask what can be done by way of relief or remedy. If God is left out, then sin also is left out, because sin means rebellion against God and violation of his commandments. So, instead of talking about sin, sociological analysis will find other labels. The remedy that will be proposed on the basis of such analysis cannot be divine redemption through Christ. It must be something else. That something else will inevitably take the form of an alternate means of redemption. Such an alternate “redemption” is at its root a form of false religion, anti-God religion, though it conceals its character by not being labeled “religion.” It is secular redemption, redemption by man, not by God, that will be urged upon us.

When David Wells started writing books reflecting on the affect post-modernism has had on the church, many theologians accused him of just doing sociology. I can imagine many sociologists reading your book and accusing you of just doing theology. How would you respond to that?

I think your question is a good one, because most modern sociologists approach their field with a very different mindset than what I have. It is precisely for this reason that I have written my book. I want to shake up the foundations of the whole field. In addition, I want ordinary Christians to resist the secularizing, God-ignoring mindset of modern culture in their own thinking. All of us, not merely professional sociologists, have to interact with other people in our relationships and with social institutions. How do we go about it? As consistent Christians, or as if God were irrelevant?

My book does address questions that sociologists may have, beginning with a brief discussion of the origin of sociology with Auguste Comte. Comte invented the term “sociology.” He self-consciously rejected a theological approach to human living in favor of an alleged “scientific” approach. And such thinking about sociology has been with us ever since. But this kind of thinking does not provide a foundation for justifying one kind of sociology over against another, nor does it provide any foundation for why theology is being rejected, other than the alleged (and ungrounded) assumption that “modernity” means “progress”: the new is allegedly necessarily “better.” Unexamined assumptions at the foundation of sociology undermine claims to be either “scientific” or “critical” or “authoritative.” When we start asking foundational questions about assumptions, sociology loses critical justification for itself.

In fact theology, rightly understood rather than caricatured, is not inimical to examining secondary causes. It provides the foundation that modern sociology lacks. The Book of Proverbs includes remarks both about the Lord’s sovereignty over human relationships and the secondary causes that link human relationships. The Book of Proverbs is inspired by God, while our own modern analyses are not. But Proverbs still provides us with an example of richness, because it acknowledges both the sovereignty of God and the realities of human action. Within this picture we can incorporate statistical analyses, human surveys, sociological questionnaires, case studies, critical analysis of human oppression, and, in fact, all the concerns that are typical of sociological analysis in any of its modern forms. The difference with a God-centered approach is a difference in framework. Any social analysis should include God and sin rather than distorting the nature of humanity by reducing the analysis to one dimension.

For those of us who have read a number of your books, we often see the three aspects of God’s lordship (authority, control, presence) show up in your work. Can you explain this concept and how you relate it sociology?

God’s character is fundamental to understanding humanity, because we are under God’s control and authority, we live in his presence, and we are made in his image. The three aspects that you mention derive from John Frame’s discussion of God’s Lordship in his books. I have freely appropriated ideas like these from Frame, because Frame in turn has appropriated them from the Bible. The Bible does teach about God’s authority, control, and presence. Its teaching should be our most basic source of orientation when we consider our own lives and our interaction with other persons. I use other aspects of biblical teaching as well. All of the Bible is relevant, once we understand how the Bible, as special revelation, is designed by God not only to give fundamental saving knowledge of God through Christ, but to transform our thinking as we submit to Christ’s Lordship over every area of life. I need hardly say that one such area is the area of personal relationships.

When we consider our relationship with God, what insightful questions might get asked that secular sociologists might not consider?

What is our responsibility to God? How may we receive forgiveness for our sin and rebellion? What does it mean to believe in Christ and trust in him and him alone for salvation? How may we follow Christ our Redeemer through the power of the Holy Spirit? These are vital questions for human living.

But then beyond the most basic questions, we may consider how the relationships among the persons of the Trinity offer an ultimate original, an archetype, that in their mystery and infinity provide a foundation for the significance of human relationships. We may consider the multitude of ways in which sin has penetrated and corrupted human relationships, and how Christ’s redemption touches on the multitude of aspects of these corruptions and brings a comprehensive remedy. The book attempts to take beginning steps in considering these questions. We may consider the diversity of societies, the diversity of human beings, the nature of authorities, the nature of social institutions, the nature of political power, and the divine power and presence in simple human transactions like buying apples at a grocery store or giving a birthday gift.  There is much food for thought and prayer.

How are you hoping readers will use your book?

I hope that Christians will be able to profit from reconsidering the nature of  their personhood and their personal relationships. The book should encourage them to grow in ability to give glory to God, who is the source of relationships. Though the book is written mostly with Christians in mind, I hope that non-Christians who read will be challenged by the fact that Christian life is a whole way of life, and includes distinctive thinking about all of modern life. We do not accept the typical assumptions of modern secularism. In his providence may the Lord use what I say not only to challenge non-Christians, but to turn them to acknowledge their suppression of the truth and to come God through Christ for redemption. I hope also that any readers who are professional sociologists will be challenged to reconsider the foundations of their discipline. And for those sociologists who are Christians, I hope they will be encouraged to be Christian in their discipline, and not merely in the rest of their lives.

Daniel Timmer, Associate Professor of Old Testament at Reformed Theological Seminary (Jackson), is a rising scholar in biblical studies. In addition to his doctoral dissertation (Creation, Tabernacle and Sabbath: The Sabbath Frame of Exodus 31:12-17; 35:1-3 in Exegetical and Theological Perspective), he has already published articles in several of the best exegetical reviews. The book of Jonah, especially in relation to mission, has attracted his attention for several years, as it appears in several previous works, including an article on the “post-colonial significance” of this book’s contexts in Journal of Hebrew Scriptures.

The present work investigates the book of Jonah with special attention to three themes of the utmost importance in the Bible: mission, salvation and spirituality. It does so in a canonical perspective that allows the author to shed light on Jonah from the rest of the Bible. Reciprocally, it enables him to highlight the contribution of this “minor prophet” to progressive revelation (“within the context of the OT, the book of Jonah sounded an early note of change regarding Israel’s missionary attitudes and practices”, p. 146-47).

Several special features of this remarkable book should be highlighted. First, the discussions are solidly grounded in a Christian reading of Jonah, respectful of the inspired text and attentive to its original context as well as to its own nuances, while not being timid when it becomes helpful to enlarge the vision and consider the rest of the Bible. He successfully underscores the flaws in the spirituality of Jonah, and offers a pertinent discussion of what this biblical book has to teach us about the issues of conversion and mission. Step by step, he asks the relevant questions to the biblical text and his analyses go to the point while at the same time paying attention to the subtlety of the narrative.

Secondly, Timmer courageously endorses a historical reading of Jonah. More than that, he is certainly one of the exegetes who has pushed its consequences the furthest. All through the book, he explains what in the history and practices of the Neo-Assyrian Empire could shed light on details in Jonah. For instance, regarding the decree of the king of Nineveh, he quotes a royal decree summoning all the people of the land to mourn, pray and repent before the god Adad (p. 106). At the same time, he avoids the temptation, frequent in comparative studies, to draw parallels too easily with oriental texts: after a careful discussion, he considers it unlikely that the author of Jonah alluded to the Sumerian myth called “The Descent of Inanna” (p. 78-80). Obviously, what will be regarded as a strength by many conservative evangelicals will also appear as a weakness for people who believe that Jonah is a book intended to be read as a fiction. Yet this should not prevent them reading the book, since they might admit that this essay sheds light on the period which is referred to in the book as the background for the narrative, and in any event because this study addresses many other matters.

Third – while this is in fact the first thing that struck me when opening this book, in the most positive sense –Timmer has extensively consulted the most relevant literature about Jonah and its context. It is not rare to see authors that, because the book they are writing is devoted to biblical theology, are content with a limited use of, and interaction with secondary literature.  As a corollary, while having written a readable main text, in a concise and efficient style, Timmer has provided much food for thought in the footnotes which contain a large amount of interaction with other exegetes. So in my opinion, this book will be useful in two different ways: first, as an excellent reading on Jonah; second, as a set of tracks for further reading and reflection on a multiplicity of subjects.

Of course, I am not pretending that this work is perfect, and the book of Jonah could give rise to long discussions, but in view of the quality of this essay I would have only here a few and unimportant questions. With regard to the historical context, the author insists more on the history of the Neo-Assyrian Empire than on what we know about Israel at that time – but this is perhaps due to the concern of giving to the reader the information he is the less likely to already have. Since it might have provided a wider context for Jonah’s attitude, it could have been useful to say a little more on what transpires from the book of Amos about the nationalistic pride of the elites in the Northern Kingdom, though it is admittedly indirect.

More to the point, I imagine that one issue in particular might give rise to disagreement among some readers: the difficult question of the extent of the sailors and the Ninevites’s repentance. Some might refuse to speak of “conversion” to Yahweh for the former, or might be inclined to use this term about the latter. This will depend on what they read into the expressions “to fear God”, “to believe in God” and “to repent.” In any event, it will not be the least merit of Timmer’s logical and thorough analyses to stimulate their exegesis, since he provides a solid and detailed argumentation.

Finally, I highly recommend this work to students, pastors and scholars interested in Old Testament theology and especially in the three themes addressed here (mission, salvation and spirituality). I hope, and I have little doubt that it will deservedly find a place on the shelf of many preachers as “the” classic to have on Jonah among the evangelical resources. This is typically the sort of book you read with a pen at hand, underlining many passages that urge you to preach a series on the biblical book in question. Which is always a good sign.

I say “adults” to include all adults. I don’t just mean those who want to go on to be intellectual leaders, but I mean this for thinkers as well as the tinkers; from the professor of 19th century literature to single mothers—especially single mothers. In our realms of influence, whether they be college freshmen, church congregations, or a 7-year-old son, we all need something to say.

Douglas and N. D. Wilson make this observation their forthcoming The Rhetoric Companion:

[T]he slack lifestyle that accompanies the kind of fellow who rents ten videos for one weekend is not conducive to acquiring anything worthwhile to say. If you listen to stupid music, watch stupid movies, and read stupid books . . . well, congratulations, you’re stupid.

Now the quote above was aimed at effective communication and rhetoric, but I know the Wilson duo would be pleased to apply it to parents and preachers. I think the point for pastors is fairly obvious. The amount of junk you put in your mind through the eyes and ears verses what is useful will show itself in how you preach and in how penetrating your words are.

The point may be less obvious to parents, though, especially for fathers. As Douglas and N. D. Wilson observe about the individual who digests only movies, “He will be able to quote Jim Carrey or Adam Sandler or Batman, but that is the end of his library.” Throughout childhood, kids need wisdom from their parents. And they need it not just during the times when they ask curious questions. Children need parents who understand human nature, joy, despair, and love. When you must explain friendship, cancer, or what a miscarriage is to your children, Dwight Schrute just won’t do.

Parents shouldn’t feel the pressure to be arm-chair philosophers in order to speak into the minds and hearts of children. But maybe they should feel pricked enough to spend 20 minutes a day reading C. S. Lewis or Tim Keller.

Billings joins a rising chorus of voices calling for “the theological interpretation of Scripture” (TIS), which “is, in many ways, simply the church’s attempt to read Scripture again after the hubris and polarities of the Enlightenment have begun to fade” (p. 224). TIS is “a multifaceted practice of a community of faith reading the Bible as God’s instrument of self-revelation and saving fellowship. It is not a single, discrete method or discipline; rather, it is a wide range of practices we use toward the goal of knowing God in Christ through Scripture” (p. xii). In the first of six chapters, “Reading Scripture on the Journey of Faith Seeking Understanding,” Billings hopes we can be “unlearning our mastery over the biblical text and releasing it to be an instrument used by God for our transformation on the path of Jesus Christ” (p. 29). He discusses the need for a rule of faith as Christians approach Scripture. This emerges from Scripture (since ultimately the Scripture is its own interpreter) yet is also a lens through which Christians receive Scripture. He critiques the Enlightenment suspicion that “prior commitments are incompatible with knowledge, and that maps merely bias and distort rather than enable knowledge” (p. 27).

In chapter two, “Learning to Read Scripture Closely: A Theological Perspective on General Hermeneutics and Biblical Criticism,” like Augustine, Billings values human learning for biblical studies (knowledge of languages, history, etc.) and yet insists on a special approach since “the Bible is the Spirit’s instrument for leading Christians into a knowledge of the triune god on the path of Jesus Christ” (p. 33). “Critical methods need to be recontextualized within a theological framework; that is, they need to be evaluated and used according to terms that refuse to treat the Bible as nothing more than an object of historical inquiry” (p. 59). He employs Gadamer’s serious concept of play—responding to the text as another subject to which we are vulnerable rather than as an object of control. He dips into Ricoeur’s work on the imaginative power of metaphors and narratives. The Bible provides a possible world for readers to inhabit that leads to a new perspective on our own world.

In chapter three, “Revelation and Scripture Interpretation: Theological Decisions We (Must) Make,” Billings shows how functional theologies of revelation are operative whenever Christians interpret Scripture. Against the concept that the knowledge of God comes from natural reason (and against an anthropological starting point for revelation), Billings sides with Kierkegaard and Barth in affirming that revelation is an act of God through Scripture by the Spirit, a word external to us.

In his fourth chapter, “The Impact of the Reader’s Context: Discerning the Spirit’s Varied yet Bounded Work,” he challenges the idea that the Bible can mean anything you want it to mean (cultural relativism actually silences genuine debate about the meaning of texts and leaves us with a mute God). He argues for an indigenizing work of the Spirit in bringing the gospel to particular peoples (i.e., that Scripture will be received differently in different cultures), but there are doctrinal and ethical limits as we seek to discern the work of the Spirit in a given culture (all of which struggle with idolatry in various forms). We may use a hermeneutics of suspicion toward sinful interpreters, but always with trust toward the Scripture itself as the final standard in all Christian communities.

In Billings’s fifth chapter on “The Value of Premodern Biblical Interpretation,” he writes, “There is much that we can learn from the history of exegesis that we cannot learn simply from exegesis alone” (p. 188). Challenging what may be standard evangelical pulpit practice, he asserts, “To be content with the ‘author’s intended meaning’ as the end to our reading of Scripture is to fail to perceive the church’s own identity (as Christ’s bride, growing in union with Christ), and the purpose of reading Scripture (participation in Christ by the Spirit)” (p. 162). Billings defends a spiritual reading of the OT since “Jesus Christ himself is the reorienting factor for all Christian biblical exegesis” (p. 167).

In the final chapter, “Scriptural Interpretation and Practices: Participation in the Triune Drama of Salvation,” Billings suggests, “Biblical interpretation for Christians involves nothing less than a worshipful consecration of our practical lives to participate in the triune God’s work, so that we may be mastered by the living Christ who speaks through Scripture” (p. 197). Our engagement with Scripture in meditation and in worship forms us deeper into the gospel.

Having taken an OT scholar for a wife during their doctoral studies at Harvard, the theologian Billings lives and writes for the marriage of dogmatics and biblical studies. Secular biblical scholars may find this proposal for a Trinitarian-shaped hermeneutic a narrow imposition of theological categories on exegesis. But Billings makes a compelling plea to Christian interpreters to remember who they are as disciples. Many evangelical readers would probably consider his hesitancy to identify God’s word directly with the text of Scripture as one of the very few weaknesses of the work. I suspect it was inherited from Barth, whose strengths are well-employed here. Billings covers a vast amount of ground, but clearly and engagingly. This book makes an excellent and popularizing contribution to the field. His views are in broad sympathy with those of Kevin Vanhoozer and John Webster. “For Further Reading” sections are rich and inviting. Billings draws on his missionary and congregational experience to good and penetrating effect. I hope this Entryway to the Theological Interpretation of Scripture receives a wide reception, especially in college and seminary classrooms. Billings wants to engage not only our thinking, but our hands and hearts as we read Scripture to meet with the triune God, having our loves transformed.

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Originally published in Themelios Volume 36, Issue 1, May 2011