In Part One of this article, I explained that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are more than divinely inspired, historically accurate biographies. They are that, to be sure. But each writer’s distinctive approach to telling his material gives us nuance and knowledge we would never have received from one writer alone.

This week we consider principles to help us get the fullest meaning possible from what I call these “pastorally interpretive narratives of the life of Christ.”

Read Behind the Lines

The first principle of Gospel reading is read behind the lines. In other words, look at the history and culture behind the Gospel stories. Often we can see a story’s truth clearly only when it’s placed against the historical/cultural/geographical backdrop. As 21st-century Westerners, we must put ourselves in ancient Jewish sandals to understand their culture. We will need to do some hermeneutical excavating to brush away the accumulated dust of the centuries to get back to the original setting. This background can take us to new depths of understanding.

For example, look at the Old Testament background. In Mark 6, the disciples are straining mightily to row across a stormy Sea of Galilee in the middle of the night, so Jesus leaves his mountainside prayers and begins to walk across the water to them. Amid the lightning flashes, the disciples see a figure atop the waves and cry out in fear, “It’s a ghost!”

Read “Gospel Distinctives”—Matt Proctor’s explanation of how each Gospel is unique.

Mark then gives a curious description of Jesus, “He was about to pass by them” (Mark 6:48). Was Jesus going to just walk past the exhausted disciples without helping? Maybe he was going to wave as he went by, “Good luck, boys! See you on the other side!” What’s going on here?

Only when you hear the Old Testament music in the background does the passage make sense. The language is from Exodus 34 when God reveals himself, as his presence “passes by” Moses. Jesus here is revealing himself as God to the disciples, even referring to himself with the divine name “I AM.” (This is the literal translation of “It is I” in Mark 6:50.) The Old Testament background helps us make sense of the story.

Look also at the geographical background. Take Jesus’ statement after Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi: “On this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it” (Matthew 16:18). A powerful statement by itself, but against its geographical backdrop, the words ring even stronger. Caesarea Philippi stood at the base of a cliff, and a spring of water flowed from the mouth of a cave set in the bottom of the cliff.

Water was a symbol of the underworld, and the pagans there believed their fertility gods left the earth each winter, entering the underworld through the cave stream. To entice the gods’ return each spring, the residents of Caesarea Philippi engaged in wanton sexual immorality. They then believed the gods returned to the earth, emerging back through the cave and its stream. To the pagan mind at Caesarea Philippi, “their city was literally at the gates of the underworld—the gates of hell.”1

All of this underscores Jesus’ courage. He does not make this bold declaration of victory from the safety of headquarters far behind the lines; he makes it on the very front lines of the spiritual battle.

Of course, don’t forget to dig into the cultural background. Kenneth Bailey is a New Testament scholar who taught for 40 years in the Middle East. He found that peasants in the remote villages of Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq often lived life largely unchanged from biblical times. He would sit with a group of sheepherders and farmers and tell the parables of Jesus, which they had never heard before. From their reactions, Bailey gained cultural insights into how these stories would have been heard by their original Middle Eastern audiences.

One day as he spun the story of the prodigal son, he was surprised when he told of the son’s request to the father for his share of the inheritance. The men laughed at this part of the story. It was so outrageous that they thought it was funny. Bailey probed further:

“Has anyone ever made such a request in your village?”

“Never!”

“Could anyone ever make such a request?”

“Impossible!”

“If anyone did, what would happen?”

“His father would beat him, of course!”

“Why?”

“This request means—he wants his father to die!”2

Like No Father in the Past

Bailey went on to tell how the son left, squandered the money, shamed the family name, and eventually came home filthy and humiliated. In ancient Middle Eastern culture, a son in good standing bowed to his father and kissed his hand, but a son who had committed such travesties against his father would be expected to fall to the ground and kiss his father’s feet.

After beating the son, the father might grudgingly allow him to return home, where he would have to work hard to earn his way back into favor. Under no circumstances would a Middle Eastern patriarch have ever run to his son—even one in good standing. It was considered unseemly.

So when Bailey said that the father saw his son at a distance and ran out to greet him, embracing and kissing him, the men in Bailey’s circle were furious, even disgusted. They said, “This man had no dignity! For a man to run through the streets, his robe would kick up around his thighs; his legs would be exposed to the children. That would be shameful. He would be the laughingstock of his village. No father would run to his son. It would never happen.”

This is amazing love! Ibrahim Sa’id, himself an old-school Middle Eastern patriarch, comments on the three parables in Luke 15, “The shepherd in his search for the sheep, and the woman in her search for the coin, do not do anything out of the ordinary beyond what anyone in their place would do. But the actions the father takes in the third story are unique, marvelous, divine actions which have not been done by any father in the past.”3

The father humiliated himself to welcome his humiliated son. And that, of course, is a picture of the cross—a God willing to humiliate himself to welcome back his sinful children.

To read the Gospels well, then, we must read behind the lines, discovering the original historical and cultural setting. Tools that will help here are a Bible with good study notes like the NIV Study Bible, a Bible encyclopedia like Zondervan’s Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Bible, and commentaries like The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament by Craig Keener.

Read Before the Lines

The second principle of Gospel reading is read before the lines. In other words, look at the literary context before (and after) your Gospel story. Often, we pay close attention to context when we’re in the Epistles, but because the Gospel stories seem so self-contained, we sometimes fail to look at the surrounding chapters for a connecting thread. We need to ask: How does the passage I am reading fit into the larger story of the Bible book I am reading?

One contextual clue to watch for is story placement. For example, Mark 8 records one of Jesus’ strangest miracles. When Jesus touches a blind man’s eyes (after spitting in them!), the blind man can suddenly see . . . but not clearly. Everything is fuzzy. He says, “I see people; they look like trees walking around” (v. 24). So Jesus touches his eyes a second time. Only then is his sight fully restored. Jesus concludes by telling the man not to go into the village to tell others what had happened.

What happened here? Why didn’t the first touch get the job done? Did Jesus experience a power “brownout”? Did Jesus foul the first pitch off before connecting for a home run?

No, and the following story in Mark 8 reveals what Jesus was up to. In the next paragraph, Jesus quizzes the disciples about his identity:

“‘Who do people say I am?’ They replied, ‘Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ ‘But what about you?’ he asked, ‘Who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah.’ Jesus warned them not to tell anyone about him” (Mark 8:27-30).

In the text immediately before this strange miracle, Jesus labeled the disciples’ failure to understand his identity as a kind of spiritual blindness (Mark 8:18). Now in the text immediately following the strange miracle, the disciples are slowly starting to understand. But it’s a multistage process—just like the miracle. In fact, note the parallel structure of Mark 8:22-26 and Mark 8:27-30:

• Physical blindness of man; spiritual blindness of disciples

• Partial restoration of sight; partial understanding of Jesus’ identity (John the Baptist, Elijah, prophet)

• Full restoration of sight; full understanding of Jesus’ identity (the Christ)

• Command not to tell others yet; command not to tell others yet.

So Jesus’ two-stage healing of the blind man, while historically true, is also an enacted parable of what he’s trying to do with the disciples. Slowly they will see with complete clarity who he really is. Looking closely at the placement of this story gives us the clue to its meaning.

An Unusual Fire and an Unfaithful Friend

Another contextual clue to look for is word usage. Pay attention to how a particular word is used in the larger context of the Gospel you’re reading. For example, after Jesus is arrested in John 18, Peter follows him to the high priest’s house and waits, warming himself in the courtyard by a fire. John 18:18 uses the unusual word anthrakian—literally a “charcoal fire.” Of course, at that fire, Peter denies Christ three times.

The Gospel of John (indeed the New Testament) uses anthrakian only in one other place. In John 21, after the resurrection, Jesus meets Peter on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. There Jesus is preparing a beach breakfast for his disciples, and to cook the fish, John tells us Jesus has built an anthrakian. Surely the smell of the charcoal smoke reminds Peter of his great failure only a few weeks before.

But then Jesus reinstates Peter, commissioning him three times (no accident!) to feed Christ’s sheep. By repeating the word anthrakian, John has deliberately linked the two stories, and we learn this amazing truth: God can turn the place of our great fall into the place of our great call!

Whether it’s story placement or word usage, pay close attention to the larger context of the Gospel you’re reading. Don’t just read your little passage. Read before and after to see how your text connects.

Read Beside the Lines

The third principle of Gospel reading is read beside the lines. In other words, compare the passage you are reading to the parallel accounts (if there are any) in the other Gospels. Parallel studies in the Gospels can be wonderfully eye opening for two reasons.

The first reason is that a parallel account can make a difficult meaning in your Gospel passage easier to understand. For example, in Luke 14:26 Jesus says, “’If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother . . . such a person cannot be my disciple.’” Sounds harsh, doesn’t it? Are Christians required to feel a seething bitterness toward our parents? No.

The parallel passage in Matthew 10:37 makes Jesus’ meaning plain: “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me.” We aren’t commanded to disown our parents; we are instead called to make our love for Christ even greater than the love for our parents.

What Are the Author’s “Life Themes”?

The second reason parallel studies in the Gospels can be eye opening is that they highlight each Gospel’s distinctive. The differences in the Gospel writers’ versions of the same event from Jesus’ life often highlight the unique themes each Gospel author wanted to emphasize.

C. S. Lewis said we all have only one or two “life themes.” I think it’s true that every preacher really has only two or three sermons that he preaches under a thousand different titles. John Maxwell’s life themes are leadership and character, James Dobson’s is family, John Piper’s are the sovereignty of God and the joy of following Jesus, Don DeWelt’s were prayer and the Holy Spirit, and almost every sermon Dudley Rutherford preaches will somewhere sound the note for evangelism.

The Gospel writers are preachers, and each one sounds the note for a few themes they especially want to communicate. For example, Luke wants to paint a picture of a praying Christ (and in Acts, a picture of praying Christians). Compare Luke’s Gospel to the other three, and you’ll notice that only he refers to Jesus praying at his baptism (Luke 3:21), at Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah (9:18), and at the transfiguration (9:28, 29). I once heard a preacher say, “God has one Son who lived without sin, but he has no sons who live without prayer. Even Jesus needed to pray.” To that, Luke would have shouted, “Amen!” Look at places like Luke 5:16; 6:12; 11:1, 2; 18:1; and 22:32, and you’ll see he has added references to prayer that Matthew and Mark did not include.

Or consider another of Luke’s life themes: compassion for the poor and outcast. A parallel study makes this compassion evident. In Matthew 6:19-21, Jesus teaches on our attitude toward money by saying things like “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,” “store up for yourselves treasures in heaven,” and “where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” In the parallel passage in Luke 12:33, 34, Jesus says the same kinds of things but then adds, “Sell your possessions and give to the poor.”

In Matthew’s record of the Beatitudes, Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matthew 5:3). But in Luke’s record of the Beatitudes, Jesus says, “Blessed are you who are poor,” in contrast to “you who are rich” (Luke 6:20, 24). While Matthew focuses on the spiritually poor, Luke draws attention to the materially poor. By the way, since both Gospels are inspired Scripture, we should not prefer one version over the other. One book makes this insightful observation: “On such points most people tend to have only half a canon. Traditional evangelicals tend to read only ‘the poor in spirit;’ social activists tend to read only ‘you poor.’ We insist that both are canonical.”4

So Matthew reminds us of the blessing in recognizing our spiritual impoverishment before God; but Luke reminds us of God’s special concern for the oppressed and disenfranchised. In the chorus of Scripture, we need both voices, so don’t seek to make them say the same thing. Any musician can tell you that singing harmony does not mean singing the same notes; it means singing complementary notes. That’s what Matthew and Luke do in their Beatitudes.

(To pick out these distinctives as you read beside the lines, an invaluable tool will be Kurt Aland’s Synopsis of the Four Gospels, which lines up the Gospel parallel texts in parallel columns on the page for easy comparison.)

A Final Caution and Encouragement

A final word of caution is in order, and I’ll let Fee and Stuart word it:

The purpose of studying the Gospels in parallel is not to fill out the story in one Gospel with details from the other. Usually such a reading of the Gospels tends to harmonize all the details and thus blur the very distinctive in each Gospel that the Holy Spirit inspired. Such “filling out” may interest us at the level of the historical Jesus, but that is not the canonical level, which should be our first concern. . . . It is precisely their distinctives that are the reason for having four [G]ospels in the first place.5

But following that caution, I’d like to offer a word of encouragement. To understand the Gospels wisely and well, this article has challenged you to read behind the lines and before the lines and beside the lines of these four books. But the most important admonition I can give you is this: be sure to read the lines themselves.

When Joel Green began to write a book on the Gospels, he said he had always thought of himself as an ordinary Christian. He assumed all believers loved these first four books of the New Testament as much as he did. He writes, “Imagine my shock, then, when a close friend confided, ‘Actually, Joel, I never read the Gospels.’” Please, I entreat you: Do not let these four powerful books lie on your shelf, gathering dust, unread.

As a children’s church teacher, I am often asked to talk with children who are considering baptism. After attending church camp with a friend, a little girl named Tesslah decided she wanted to be baptized. I called her unchurched parents to ask if they would come to our church building on a Tuesday evening as I discussed baptism with their daughter. They agreed, and listened that evening as I explained to Tesslah what giving herself to Jesus meant.

Both parents came the next Sunday when I baptized Tesslah, and I noticed that her mother Karen came back the following Sunday . . . and the following Sunday. After three weeks, she approached me on a Sunday morning with one of our church’s free “take-one-if-you-want-one” Bibles in her hand. She said simply, “I’ve been reading this for three weeks, and I’m ready.” Unbeknownst to me, Karen had decided to read through the Gospels, and in those pages, she had come face to face with Jesus and wanted to follow him. I baptized her the next Sunday.

To put it simply: the Gospels can change your life. They are a treasure waiting to be discovered, and you now have some tools to start unearthing their transforming message. So pick up your Bible, open it to Matthew, and start reading. As Vince Antonucci (see Part One) and my friend Karen could tell you: you’ll never be the same.

________

1Ray Vander Laan, www.followtherabbi.com.

2Kenneth Bailey, Poet and Peasant (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976), 162.

3Ibid., p. 166.

4Fee and Stuart, 113.

5Ibid., 110.

Matt Proctor, a CHRISTIAN STANDARD contributing editor, is president of Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri.

Some time ago, my wife, Katie, and I were rummaging through a box of old college keepsakes. I reached for a large manila envelope, wondering what was inside. Old love letters! I pulled out a thick stack of envelopes Katie had sent me one summer when we were dating.

We had been apart all that summer, and I remember waiting eagerly for those twice-a-week letters in the mail. I would tear open the envelope and devour every sentence—reading and rereading every word, imagining the voice of my beloved speaking them to me. The letter read “Dear Matt,” but behind the words I could hear her heart’s true message—”my handsome hunk of a guy.”

Those letters were my lifeline to her. I didn’t set out to memorize those letters, but I could almost quote them because I lingered over them so long. As we rummaged through that attic box, Katie also reached for a manila envelope and pulled out . . . both of the letters I had written her that summer. (I’m a slob.)

Here’s the important question: Why did I read those letters so hungrily? You know the answer: It was because they were from someone I loved—someone who also loved me.

They Read for All They Are Worth

Mortimer Adler, former editor of the Encyclopedia Britannica and a very smart dude, once wrote a best-selling book called How to Read a Book. The book taught readers how to fully comprehend an author’s message, and in it, Adler made a keen observation:

There is only one situation that I can think of in which men and women make an effort to read better than they usually do. When they are in love and are reading a love letter, they read for all they are worth. They read every word three ways; they read between the lines and in the margins; they read the whole in terms of the parts, and each part in terms of the whole; they grow sensitive to context and ambiguity, to insinuation and implication; they perceive the color of words, the odor of phrases, and the weight of sentences. They may even take the punctuation into account. Then, if never before or after, they read.1

 

You want to know something amazing? In his Word, God not only has inspired stories and statutes, prophecies and poetry, he also has inspired letters! One scholar says, “Christianity is unique in that of all the other sacred books of the world not one is composed of letters.”

Apart from face-to-face conversation, letters were the most personal form of communication available to first-century writers. In a world where gods were seen as aloof and removed from human contact, a God who communicated through letters was astonishing. This God was inviting personal relationship. My friend Mark Scott says, “Just as God wrapped the warmth of his love in his Son, he also wrapped the warmth of his teaching in the form of a letter.” Like the Incarnation itself, the New Testament Epistles are God choosing to get personal so that we could know him.

In other words: these are love letters. They are heartfelt words from a groom to his bride. We had better read for all we are worth.

Peter, Paul, and Marry?

Unfortunately, the New Testament Epistles can be tricky to read. Some sections aren’t hard at all, but then you run into passages like these:

• “Now to the unmarried and the widows I say: It is good for them to stay unmarried, as I do” (1 Corinthians 7:8). What is Paul saying here? Is he contradicting God who said in Genesis 2:18, “It is not good for the man to be alone”? How do we reconcile these?

• “I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions” (Colossians 1:24). What does Paul mean by lacking? Is he suggesting Jesus’ suffering on the cross was somehow insufficient?

• “Women will be saved through childbearing” (1 Timothy 2:15). What in the world does this mean? Is Paul adding a new step in the plan of salvation for women—hear, believe, repent, confess, be baptized, and have a baby?2

So let’s admit that the Epistles can at times be difficult to read. The apostle Peter, in a moment of refreshing honesty, confessed that the apostle Paul’s “letters contain some things that are hard to understand” (2 Peter 3:16). These documents are not “see Spot run” simple; they require some heavy mental lifting.

Reflect on What I Am Saying

In fact, because the Epistles are probably the most theologically dense biblical genre—with more significant ideas per square inch than other types of biblical literature—may I take a moment to offer an encouragement? Sometimes well-meaning believers resist serious Bible study—assuming that careful examination of Scripture is too academic for devotional value. Surely, they think, the Lord will reveal what we need to know.

But in 2 Timothy 2:7, Paul tells Timothy, “Reflect on what I am saying, for the Lord will give you insight into all this.” The apostle affirms that God ultimately helps us understand his Word, but notice what Paul says: the Lord’s insight comes only after our study. Often the Lord will unlock the meaning of a passage only after we have rattled every doorknob in the text.

We cannot expect to be passive readers. To “reflect” deeply will require brainwork, but Paul says that using our own mind will help us know God’s mind better. Sixteenth-century scholar Erasmus once remarked, “People say to me, ‘How can scholarly knowledge facilitate the understanding of Holy Scripture?’ My answer is, How does ignorance contribute to it?”

So let me encourage you to read the New Testament Epistles “for all you’re worth.” Be willing to dig deeply and study thoroughly. But before we go any further, we had better define exactly what a New Testament Epistle is.

Preachers Always Go Long

Epistle is the dominant literary form of the New Testament, including 21 of its 27 books. But what is an epistle? (One little girl thought an epistle was “the wife of an apostle”!) Actually, an epistle was a letter in the ancient world “designed for wide circulation that addresses current issues and revives personal relationship.”3

The New Testament writers were not the only ancient communicators who used the epistle form. We still have surviving papyri with epistles from public figures like Cicero and Seneca. Epistles in the classical world followed a basic format:

• Prescript. Here the writer identifies himself and his recipients (which seems a smarter approach than our modern letter template which doesn’t reveal the writer’s name until the letter’s closing).

• Greetings. Here the writer often expresses a prayer for the recipient’s good health,

• Body. Here the writer conveys his primary message—which may be personal, business, or official in nature.

• Exhortations. Here the writer gives final instructions based upon the message he has already shared.

• Closing. Here the writer passes along other greetings and a final salutation or prayer.

As you can probably tell, the New Testament Epistle writers adapted this basic format with two changes. First, they “Christianized” it. For example, instead of “hello” and “hope you’re having a good day,” they passed along theologically loaded greetings like “grace and peace.”

Second, they wrote much longer letters than normal. (They were preachers, after all.) Cicero’s average letter was 295 words, Seneca’s was 955 words, but Paul’s long-winded letters averaged 2,500 words! Clearly, the New Testament letter writers had much of importance to say, prompting their readers to say things like, “His letters are weighty and forceful” (2 Corinthians 10:10).

A Big Homiletical Toolbox

In fact, it is helpful to think of the Epistles as published sermons. (See the box on p. 7.)

As a preaching professor, this is an especially meaningful angle for me. I tell my students they have a wide variety of rhetorical tools to use in a sermon. To explain a point, they can choose—from their homiletical toolbox—options like a supporting Bible verse, a story, a comparison, a statistic, a definition, or a quotation. (Preachers like Wayne Smith also have a whole section of jokes in their toolbox.)

A significant feature of the epistolary “sermons” in the New Testament is that they too draw from a big homiletical toolbox. As a reader of the New Testament letters, it will be helpful for you to understand something about a few of these rhetorical devices:

• Hymns. In texts like Philippians 2:5-11, Paul quotes ancient Christian hymns, and at other times, in places like 1 Timothy 1:17, he interrupts himself by bursting into the prayerful praise of doxology.

Why is this important? The hymns, so familiar to his audience, were theologically persuasive because they were already commonly accepted truth. But more important, these “praise pauses” kept moving his audience from teaching time into worship time.

Ozark Christian College Professor Don DeWelt was famous for punctuating his sermons with song, breaking forth in his rich baritone. In so doing, DeWelt—like Paul—reminded his hearers that the truth of God must always usher in the praise of God.

• Household Codes. Ancient sages, such as Aristotle, sometimes drew up a “household code”—a collection of advice to the head of a Greco-Roman household on how to rule his wife, children, and slaves to ensure an ordered society. Epistle texts like Ephesians 5:22–6:9 follow a similar “household code” pattern with three significant differences.

First, unlike the cultural codes that only laid obligation on the household’s “inferior” members (wives, children, slaves), the biblical codes also gave behavioral instructions to the “superior” husbands, fathers, and masters.

Second, unlike the cultural codes, the “inferior” members are not treated as powerless property. Instead, they are directly addressed as free moral agents who have the ability to choose how to act within the household.

Third, the motivation behind the biblical codes was not to protect the social order, but to promote the gospel. (See Titus 2:10.)

• Vice and Virtue Lists. Another common rhetorical tool used by ancient moralists was the vice or virtue list, and again, the New Testament letter writers borrowed this device in places like Galatians 5:19-23. Three observations about such lists will help you read well.

First, “the items listed, though distinct, were intended to be heard as a unit, not so much as individual behaviors.”4 The writer is trying to create an overall impression by heaping up qualities, whether good or bad. So instead of beginning with a dissection of the list’s individual terms, ask: what is the list’s big picture?

Second, the lists are usually suggestive, not exhaustive, so don’t treat them as if they’re comprehensive. None of the spiritual gift lists in the New Testament, for example, are the exact same—meaning Paul is apparently not trying to categorize every gift available.5

Third, the order of the vices/virtues in the list is sometimes important, so pay attention. Of the 19 vices in 2 Timothy 3:2-4, the first and last terms bracketing this list are “lovers of themselves” and “rather than lovers of God”—implying that the 17 vices in between are a result of these two bookending sins. Likewise, the order of the vice list in 1 Timothy 1:9, 10—not coincidentally—reads like a photographic negative of the Ten Commandments. Apparently Paul’s vice list is the flip side of the commandment list in Exodus 20.6

• Chiasm. This rhetorical tool is simply the arrangement of ideas to form a mirroring pattern. Each section in a text matches a later corresponding section. For example, look at the structure in Ephesians 2:1-10:

1. Because we walked in our sins (2:1, 2a),

2. And the devil was at work within us (2:2b),

3. God’s wrath was coming because of our deeds (2:3).

4. But because God is rich in mercy (2:4),

5. We are made alive with Christ (2:5a).

6. By grace we have been saved (2:5b).

5. We are raised up with Christ (2:6),

4. Because God is rich in grace (2:7).

3. God’s gift came, not because of our deeds (2:8, 9).

2. Now God is at work within us (2:10a),

1. So we walk in good works (2:10b).7

Most of us today are unfamiliar with chiasm, but first-century readers looked for it. “Ancients noticed and enjoyed chiasm much as we notice and enjoy rhyming sentences today. For us, rhyming makes something easier to remember and often gives us appreciation that the writer thought carefully when constructing his material . . . Readers in Paul’s day viewed chiasm the same way.”8

(Assignment: Can you detect the chiasm in Romans 10:9, 10?)

Here’s the important thing to remember about chiasm: Whereas we Westerners usually put something first or last for emphasis, the ancient Mediterraneans put the emphasis in the middle of the chiasm. So the accent in Ephesians 2:1-10 falls squarely on 2:5b—that’s the big idea of the passage.

• Metaphor. We are probably most familiar with this last “preacher’s tool.” The New Testament letters read like picture books, as the images flow constantly from the writers’ pens. The church is pictured as a bride, a body, and a flock of sheep; the Christian life is pictured as a race, a battle, and a farm; our salvation is compared to a slave given his freedom (redemption), a criminal given a clean record (justification), and an orphan given a new family (adoption).

But here’s a key principle: metaphors are flexible, not rigid. They don’t always mean the same thing in different places. In 1 Corinthians 3:11, Paul says the church’s foundation is Jesus Christ, but in Ephesians 2:20, Paul says the church’s foundation is the apostles and prophets, while Jesus is the cornerstone. So don’t assume you know what a metaphor means because of its use elsewhere. Paul got creative with his metaphorical references, so check the context every time.

If There’s No Fire in the Sermon . . .

So these sermonic letters are skillfully crafted rhetorical works. But at the end of the day, like any good sermon, they’re personal. The New Testament preachers aren’t just talking from their heads; they’re cracking the door on their hearts.

I had a professor who exhorted us to preach passionately or not preach at all. He said, “If there’s no fire in the sermon, put the sermon in the fire!” The New Testament Epistles are certainly not dispassionate discourse—they are brimming over with emotion.

For example, James at times can be very tender—in five chapters, he uses the phrase “my brothers” or “my dear brothers” 15 times. But at other times, he speaks with biting sarcasm: “You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that” (2:19).

Or consider Paul, who especially runs the full emotional spectrum in his letters. He weeps for his fellow Israelites who are lost, staining the pages of Romans 9 with his tears: “I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people, those of my race, the people of Israel” (vv. 3, 4). He smiles as he writes movingly of his special fondness for the Philippians (see Philippians 1:3-10).

But in Galatians, Paul’s face turns red with anger as he confronts the legalists who were requiring circumcision—he skips right past his customary prayer of thanksgiving at the beginning of the letter and instead launches into a blistering sermon:

“I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you” (1:6);

“You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?” (3:1)

“Those who belonged to the circumcision group . . . as for those agitators, I wish they would go the whole way and emasculate themselves!” (2:12; 5:12).

Whoa, Paul, did you just say what I think you said? Yes, he did! The apostle got worked up when people started messing with the gospel!

These letters are full of passion, so as you read, try to discern not only a letter’s meaning, but also its mood. Fred Craddock says some texts are boisterous and joyful—like 76 trombones coming down Main Street, while other texts are somber and poignant—like a violin and a crust of bread. What’s the emotional pulse of the passage?

NEXT WEEK: Five questions you can ask to increase your understanding of these sometimes-difficult books.

________

1Cited in Mortimer Adler, How to Speak, How to Listen.

2This article will not attempt to address all three of these difficult texts. A suggested resource for hard-to-understand passages is Hard Sayings of the Bible by Walter C. Kaiser Jr., et al. (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1996).

3Jeffrey Arthurs, Preaching with Variety (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2007), 152.

4Mike Graves, The Sermon as Symphony (Valley Forge: Judson Press, 1997), 182.

5Compare Romans 12:6-8 with 1 Corinthians 12:8-10.

6For fuller explanation, see John Stott, Guard the Truth (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1996), 49, 50.

7Look especially at this passage in a translation like the New American Standard Bible to see the similarity of language between the mirroring sections of the text.

8Randolph Richards, Paul and First-Century Letter Writing (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2004), 134.

Matt Proctor is president of Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri, and a CHRISTIAN STANDARD contributing editor.

________

Polished, Published Sermons

Now let me suggest five questions that can help you understand these sometimes-difficult books.

Have I Read the Entire Letter?

Gordon Fee and Douglas Stuart give this challenge: “You need to develop the habit of reading the whole letter through in one sitting. You will need to block out an hour or so to do this, but nothing can ever substitute for this exercise. It is the way one reads every other letter.”1

Reading the whole letter provides context. It helps you pick up the big ideas, the flow of thought of the letter. Perhaps you’ve heard it said that in biblical interpretation, “Context is king!” Nowhere is that truer than in the Epistles. When you put together a puzzle, you likely look at the picture on the box top to see where each individual piece might fit in. That’s what reading through the whole letter will do for you. Once you see the Epistle’s big picture, you will begin to understand how the individual verses and paragraphs fit into to the author’s overall message.

In fact, one of the best practices for understanding a New Testament letter is to read through the whole letter with pen in hand and try to write out in one sentence the big idea of each paragraph. Trace the flow of one idea to the next throughout the letter; follow the thread of thinking.

Fee and Stuart again offer help: “We simply cannot stress enough the importance of your learning to Think Paragraphs . . . as the absolutely necessary key to understanding the argument in the various epistles.”

You’ve heard of hijacking and carjacking; close attention to the context keeps us from “versejacking”—ripping a verse from its surroundings and taking it places it was never intended to go. When Paul says in Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength,” he is not saying Jesus will give him the power to bench-press 400 pounds (as some athletes have used that verse). In context, he is saying he can be content in any situation—whether in plenty or in want.

Or consider the line in Philippians 4:5, “Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.” On its own, the sentence about the Lord’s nearness might sound like a comfort: Don’t be afraid. God is close at hand. But read the preceding context. Paul has just told two ladies in the church, Euodia and Syntyche, to stop fighting with each other.

When my 7- and 9-year-old sons are fussing with each other as they clean their room, I will sometimes march in and say with authority, “You guys better knock off the fighting and start treating each other right! Are you understanding me? I hope you are, because I am going to be right outside your door.” My boys know that the promise of my presence is not an encouragement but a warning. If they don’t straighten up, they know I’ll come striding back in wielding the swift right hand of judgment!

Contextually, then, the promise of Philippians 4:5 is not meant to comfort, but to caution these two Christian sisters to treat each other with gentleness. It’s in the same vein as James 5:9, “Don’t grumble against one another, brothers and sisters, or you will be judged. The Judge is standing at the door!” This all becomes clear when you read the verse in the larger flow of the letter.

One more suggestion as you read: use the opening paragraph as a window to the letter. Just as a preacher will introduce his topic in the first five minutes of his sermon, so the Epistle writers often left clues to the themes of the book (or problems in the church) in the first paragraph of the letter. So Romans 1:16 could serve as a theme verse to the letter; 1 Corinthians 1:7, 8 hints at the spiritual gifts issue and the bodily resurrection controversy addressed further on in the letter; James 1:9-11 introduces the topic of attitudes toward rich and poor that will be developed later, and so on.

Have I Dug Deeply Into the Historical Background?

As one hermeneutics textbook points out, “A text cannot mean what it never could have meant to its author or his readers.”2 If we are to understand what God’s Word is saying to us today, we must first figure out what God’s Word meant in its original historical context. So we must ask questions like: Who wrote this letter? When was it written? To whom was it written? What is the occasion or circumstances for its writing? What can we know about the culture to which it is written?

Sometimes historical background enriches our understanding of a text. For example, Paul begins his letter to Titus by mentioning “the hope of eternal life, which God, who does not lie, promised before the beginning of time” (Titus 1:2). When you learn that Titus is working on Crete, Paul’s odd reminder that God “does not lie” suddenly makes sense. Why? A little digging will unearth this fact: the island of Crete was known for its dishonesty. One of the island’s own prophets said, “Cretans are always liars” (Titus 1:12).

In fact, Cretans actually claimed that Zeus was buried on their island. On hearing this, the ancient world laughed because they knew that, obviously, the “greatest” of the gods cannot die, and even if he could, he would never be buried on a backwater, third-rate island like Crete. How unbelievable! The Cretans not only were liars—they were bad liars. Their reputation for duplicity was so widespread that the Greeks actually turned the word Crete into a verb—kretizo—that meant “to lie or deceive.”

So in Titus 1:2, Paul is addressing a culture whose inhabitants expect promises to be empty and fraudulent. That’s why he wants to underscore the complete truthfulness and trustworthiness of God. A promise from God is not like a promise from a Cretan. “If God says that we have the hope of eternal life,” writes Paul, “then you can know it’s true.” That is a promise so secure you can build your life on it. Without the historical background, we could still understand Titus 1:2—God doesn’t lie. But the historical background enriches our understanding—adding color and nuance to our reading.

Other times, however, historical background actually enlightens our understanding. There are some passages we simply would not interpret accurately if we didn’t study the history behind them. For example, Paul tells Timothy the women in the church at Ephesus should “dress modestly, with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes” (1 Timothy 2:9, New International Version, 1984). Is Paul saying braided hair is intrinsically immodest? Does that mean women who braid their hair today are violating scriptural command?

To answer those questions, dig into the historical background. When you do, you’ll discover Ephesus was dominated by the massive Temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The temple employed hundreds of prostitutes for the “worship” of this fertility goddess, and these prostitutes “wore their hair in numerous small pendant braids with gold droplets or pearls or gems every inch or so, making a shimmering screen of their locks.”3

Against the historical backdrop, then, it seems Paul is saying women should not wear any hairstyle or clothes that resemble their sexually seductive culture—an admonition that is still needed today. But Paul is not necessarily saying braided hair is by its very nature immodest. (Ironically, in today’s American culture, braided hair is sometimes seen as the opposite: a simple, modest style worn by women in groups like the Amish.) In this example, the background has not simply enriched our understanding; it has enlightened it. Understanding the historical setting has saved us from misunderstanding the passage.

How exactly can you reconstruct the historical background? Certainly by reading the letter carefully you can gather clues to the situation the writer is addressing. (Although one scholar points out that hearing only Paul’s response to the problems is like hearing only one end of a telephone conversation, so be careful of jumping to conclusions too soon.) A good study Bible and commentaries can help as well.4

Have I Paid Close Attention to the Words?

In the New Testament Epistles especially, we are wise to pay close attention to the specific words chosen by the writers. To begin with, a more literal English translation like the New American Standard Bible or the English Standard Version will often help. For example, the NIV renders 1 Timothy 2:15, “Women will be saved through childbearing,” and we wonder, is Paul saying women are saved by having babies? But the NIV leaves out the definite article the before childbearing (which the NASB includes). Literally, then, the verse would say that women will be “saved through THE childbearing.”

While it is an unusual way to put it, Paul is likely saying that women (and all people) will be saved through The Childbirth—a reference to Jesus’ incarnation. After mentioning in 2:14 that a woman (Eve) brought sin into the world, Paul is saying in 2:15 that a woman (Mary) also brought salvation into the world by giving birth to the Savior. The word the before childbearing is our tip-off to this understanding, so consider using a more literal English translation for your serious Bible study.

It is often helpful to pay attention to previous uses of a particular word to try to understand its meaning. Take the oft-debated verse from Paul: “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent” (1 Timothy 2:12, NIV, 1984). In English, translating the word as silent makes it read as if a woman should not make any sound at all in church—no talking whatsoever. In fact, some Christian groups have taken this to be the verse’s meaning, and they forbid a woman from even praying publicly or leading singing in the worship assembly.

But is that what the word silent means in the original Greek? The context of 1 Timothy 2 makes clear that the Greek word, hesuchia, does not mean “the complete absence of sound.” First Timothy 2:2 tells us all Christians are to live “peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness.” The word quiet there is a form of hesuchia, and clearly Paul is not saying Christians are to walk around their entire lives without speaking at all. (I guess that would make mimes the top of the spiritual ladder.) Rather he is telling Christians to live with a quiet, calm, respectful demeanor—not as a troublemaker or rabble-rouser.

So when Paul uses the word hesuchia just a few verses later in 2:12 to say a woman in church “must be silent,” he does not mean she must completely cease speaking. He is instead saying she should listen and learn with a quiet, calm, respectful demeanor.

All of this is to say: pay close attention to the words the Epistle’s author chooses. But let me add a word of caution. Sometimes Bible students make their worst mistakes in word studies. So be careful not to fall into some common word study fallacies. I’ll mention two frequent fallacies. Don’t fall into the English-only fallacy, in which you study the English word rather than the underlying Greek word—such as the English word silent instead of the Greek word hesuchia.

Likewise, don’t fall into the time-frame fallacy, in which you import a chronologically much later meaning of the word into an earlier usage. Preachers often read Romans 1:16 which calls the gospel “the power (dunamis) of God,” and because dunamis is where we get our English word dynamite, they talk about the gospel as the dynamite of God. Of course, Paul would never have thought of dynamite when he wrote the word, so while that’s not the worst hermeneutical sin you can commit, it is importing a later meaning into an earlier usage. (However, I do like the story of the preacher who had the letters TNT engraved on the cover of his Bible to remind him of the power of God’s Word. Pretty cool.)

Helpful tools for word studies? Check out John Kohlenberger’s Greek English Concordance to the New Testament, Colin Brown’s New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, and websites like www.mybibletools.com, www.studylight.org, and www.blueletterbible.org.

Have I Considered the Rest of the Bible’s Teaching?

A very important observation about New Testament Epistles: they are “task theology,” not “systematic theology.”5 In other words, the New Testament letters are not written to thoroughly and categorically explain all of Christian doctrine. Rather, they are written to apply Christian doctrine to a particular situation in the church, so the writer only serves the slice of the theological pie needed to accomplish his specific pastoral task. As readers, then, we must consider the rest of the Bible’s teaching on a particular doctrine so that we do not mistake a particular theological piece for the whole.

An example: sometimes the letters of Paul and the letter from James seem to be at odds with each other. In places like Romans 3:28, Paul says we are justified by faith, not works.6 But James says things like “a person is justified by what he does and not by faith alone” (see James 2:24, NIV 1984). It sounds like Paul and James are facing off against each other like two old western gunfighters.

But if the Epistles are “task theology,” then a closer reading reveals Paul and James are each addressing very different situations and are trying to accomplish two very different tasks. Paul is confronting teachers of “works righteousness”—the false belief that we can earn our salvation—so he emphasizes justification by faith. James, however, is confronting the opposite problem of “easy believism”—the false idea that simple mental assent to certain doctrinal statements is enough for salvation—so he emphasizes a faith that expresses itself in deeds. So James and Paul are not drawing their theological pistols on each other. Rather, they are standing back to back in the middle of the street, firing at opposite opponents.

Another example may help. In 1 Timothy 2:12, Paul says, “I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man.” At first blush, that sounds like Paul is forbidding a woman to ever offer any biblical content to a man. However, when you consider the rest of Paul’s writing, you discover he wrote about women prophesying in the worship assembly (1 Corinthians 11:2-16). Likewise Philip’s four daughters (Acts 21:9), Miriam (Exodus 15:20), Deborah (Judges 4:4), Huldah (2 Kings 22:14), and Isaiah’s wife (Isaiah 8:3) are all prophetesses among God’s people. Priscilla privately taught Apollos in Acts 18:26.

So whatever 1 Timothy 2:12 means (and I am not getting into that in this article), it apparently does not mean that a woman cannot ever offer any biblical content to a man. Looking at the rest of the Bible’s teaching has made that much clearer.

The point is simply this: because the Epistles are task theology, not systematic theology, we must always place our Epistle passage in the context of the rest of the Bible’s teaching. “Remembering that the epistles address specific occasions will preserve us from theological myopia, that is, building a system on [only] a portion of the epistles’ rich doctrine.”7

Have I Traced the Connection Between the Indicative and the Imperative?

When you start reading the Epistles, it doesn’t take long to notice a general pattern in most of these letters, especially Paul’s. Often, the first half of the letter deals with Christian doctrine, while the last half deals with Christian duty. After his explanation of Christian belief, he follows up with an exhortation to Christian behavior. See Romans 1-11 and 12-16, Ephesians 1-3 and 4-6, or Colossians 1, 2 and 3, 4 as examples.

In other words, Paul grounds the imperative in the indicative. All the commands he gives in the last half of a letter find their rationale in the theology he has already taught in the letter’s first half. For example, in Ephesians 5, Paul could have said, “Husbands, love your wives because it will make for a smoother, more peaceful household, and you will enjoy living in a conflict-free atmosphere.” Paul could have given that kind of pragmatic basis for being a loving husband: “Happy wife, happy life!” (All of which, by the way, would have been absolutely true.)

But Paul doesn’t ground his command in the practical. He grounds it in the theological. “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her” (Ephesians 5:25). “That is, because marriage is an earthly picture of a spiritual mystery, we ought to love our wives.”8 The indicative truth in Ephesians 1-3 (Christ’s love for the church) is the foundation for the imperative in Ephesians 5 (husband’s love for wife).

This constant interplay between the indicative and imperative can be seen throughout the Epistles. First Thessalonians 4 teaches that because Jesus will come again (indicative), we should not grieve as those who have no hope (imperative). Second Corinthians 8 teaches that because Jesus became poor for us (indicative), we should give generously for him (imperative). First John 4 says that because God loves us (indicative), we should love one another (imperative).

So as careful Bible students, when we read the indicative sections of the letters, we should ask ourselves what the imperative implications of these truths might be. When we read the imperative sections, we should ask what the underlying indicative motivations of these commands might be. The imperatives are not simply behavioral addendums, and the indicatives are not simply doctrinal prologues. The two sections of the letter are intimately interwoven, so trace those connections for a richer reading of the Epistle.

Immortal Beloved

Though I’ve never seen it, the movie Immortal Beloved tells a true story from the life of Beethoven. As a young man, Beethoven falls passionately in love with a beautiful young lady. In a series of letters, addressed to his “Immortal Beloved,” he asks her to meet him one afternoon, and she wonders in anticipation: could this be the day he proposes marriage?

But Beethoven is delayed, and by the time he arrives, the young lady is gone. Unfortunate circumstances follow, and tragically the two never speak again. Years later, after Beethoven’s death, the young woman learns that he had sent a letter explaining his delay and asking her to wait for him. But she never received it. What a difference it would have made! If only she’d had the chance to read the letter.

I know of another Lover who is waiting until the day he can be united with his beloved. He too has written us letters—explaining his delay, asking us to wait for him, and giving us instructions for the meantime. These love letters are an incredible gift. What a difference it would make if we read them! Here’s your chance. . . .

________

1Gordon Fee and Douglas Stuart, How to Read the Bible for All It’s Worth (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1982), 47.

2Fee and Stuart, 60.

3John Stott, Guard the Truth (Downer’s Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1996), 84.

4It is good to remember, however, that commentaries can sometimes get it wrong. In addition to his music, Johnny Cash also wrote a novel on the life of Paul, entitled Man in White. In his study, Cash spent years reading reference books and commentaries. “I discovered,” Cash once quipped, “that the Bible can shed a lot of light on the commentaries.”

5Fee and Stuart, 46.

6It’s interesting to note Paul uses the word justification 15 times in Romans, 8 times in Galatians, and only 2 times in the rest of his letters combined. While Rome and Galatia battled the heresy of “works righteousness,” requiring Paul to teach on justification by faith, the other churches to which he wrote apparently didn’t face that problem.

7Jeff Arthurs, Preaching with Variety (Grand Rapids: Kregel, 2007), 155.

8Arthurs, 156.

Matt Proctor is president of Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri, and a CHRISTIAN STANDARD contributing editor.

When I interviewed for my first preaching ministry at age 23, I told the pulpit committee I absolutely believed in the power of God’s Word to transform lives. I told them I was convinced “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness” (2 Timothy 3:16). I affirmed for them my commitment to proclaim “the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27, English Standard Version).

That wasn’t 100 percent true.

That commitment was 65/66 percent true, but at that point in my life, there was one book of the Bible I didn’t preach, one part of “all Scripture” I steadfastly avoided.

The book of Revelation.

Staying Away from the Haunted House

Revelation just didn’t seem “useful for teaching,” and as a young preacher, I steered clear of the last book of the Bible.

Apparently I’m not the only one who has avoided Revelation. Fred Craddock says that reading through the New Testament is like walking down the street. The Gospels are first, and they are warm, inviting, well-lit homes—a familiar neighborhood. Next come Paul’s letters, still friendly territory. But as you move down the street through the Epistles, the shadows grow deeper—2 Peter, 1 John. The houses are small and neglected—2 John, 3 John, Jude. Then suddenly at the end of the street, shrouded in darkness, stands the frightening, haunted house of Revelation.1

Not many people want to go in there.

The reasons for staying out of Revelation are many. First of all, the book is just flat hard to understand. The church father Jerome said, “Revelation has as many mysteries as it does words.” Martin Luther said Revelation ought to be kicked out of the Bible because it doesn’t reveal anything. Let’s face it: bizarre images of strange creatures, a beast with 10 horns and claws of bronze, stars falling from the heavens, a great red dragon with seven heads, 666, blood, bowls of sulfur, people eating scrolls, bottomless pits, dragons, the four horses of the Apocalypse, war, pestilence, famine, and death aren’t normal watercooler conversation. This is strange stuff. I couldn’t make heads or tails of this book, so I just stayed away.

Another reason we sometimes ignore Revelation is because it’s been so abused. No other book in the Bible has sparked more obsession, strange teaching, and wild speculation than Revelation. When I started Bible college in the fall of 1988, everyone on campus was talking about Edgar Whisenant’s book 88 Reasons Why Jesus Will Come Again in 1988, which predicted Jesus’ return in mid-September. (Matthew 24:36 says we can’t know the day or the hour, but apparently we can know the month and the year!)

I read about another preacher who claimed that “the literal building blocks for the new temple in Israel have been constructed and numbered and are being stored in the basements of Kmarts all over the United States until they can be shipped to Israel and used to build a new temple.”2(Seriously? Kmart? If there’s a new world order coming, everyone knows it’s going to be Walmart.)

Revelation seems to attract wild-eyed, delusional characters, prompting G. K. Chesterton to remark, “Though St. John saw many strange monsters in his vision, he saw no creature so wild as one of his own commentators.” I certainly didn’t want to be lumped in with those guys. To avoid guilt by association, I avoided Revelation.

A final reason I didn’t preach Revelation was what I’ll call job security. As a young preacher, I thought, If this book is so controversial and divisive, why should I stir up trouble? After all, I heard the true story of a preacher in Ohio who was teaching on Revelation, and when he finished, somebody shot him. I thought, I’m 23 years old. I’m too young to die. I’ll just stick with the Psalms.

A lot of Christians have done the same in their Bible reading. “I don’t think I really need to read Revelation,” said one woman in my church. “It doesn’t make any sense, and the rest of the Bible already tells me what I need to know.”

Reclaiming Revelation

This two-part article is intended as a call to get over our fear of Revelation.

The fact is, Revelation is part of “all Scripture,” it is “God-breathed,” it is “useful for teaching,” and it is part of “the whole counsel of God.” It is a significant portion of divine revelation, it is the culmination of the Old and New Testaments, and it answers the essential human question of what this world is coming to.

Revelation tells how the story of God’s people ends, and only when we know the end of our story can we make sense of the story’s middle where we live right now. Revelation must be read.

A turning point for me came when I enrolled at Lincoln Christian Seminary during that first ministry. I took a class on Revelation taught by Robert Lowery, and in those 16 weeks, my eyes were opened. He immersed me in the universe-shaping images of the Apocalypse. As he taught us how to read the book, I was swept up in the epic vision—the cosmic battle raging between Lamb and dragon, a battle waged in the earthbound lives of first-century believers, a battle for the allegiance and eternal destiny of human hearts and minds.

Sitting in Dr. Lowery’s class, I began to see that my church needed a strong dose of apocalyptic literature. My imagination was captured by Revelation’s images of the reality of the spiritual battle, the insidious influence of the Enemy in the surrounding culture, the harshness of the coming judgment, the imminence of Christ’s return, and the need for clear-eyed, uncompromising perseverance. I saw that all this needed to be preached because, as Eugene Peterson reminds us, we all too often suppose our lives are “so utterly ordinary. Sin-habits dull our free faith into stodgy moralism and respectable boredom.”3

But John’s Apocalypse “rips the veneer of cliché off everyday routines and reveals the side-by-side splendors and terrors of heaven and hell. Apocalypse is arson—it secretly sets a fire in the imagination” that burns away the Enemy’s façade, dissolves the “virtual reality” he seeks to create, and exposes reality in all its stark-but-hopeful clarity.4

I suddenly realized that, “With the vastness of the heavenly invasion and the urgency of the faith decision rolling into our consciousness like thunder and lightning, we cannot stand around on Sunday morning filling our time with pretentious small talk on how bad the world is and how wonderful this new stewardship campaign is going to be.”5 Revelation was a clarion call to live each day in light of the high stakes of eternity, and my people needed to hear that call. I needed to hear it.

It was time I reclaimed Revelation.

If you are ready to reclaim Revelation for yourself, then you have two important questions you’ll need to answer: Why exactly should I read Revelation? And how do I read Revelation in a way that will help me make sense of this strange book? Let me tackle the second question first.

How Do I Read Revelation?

Revelation might be the most challenging genre of Scripture to interpret, and as one of my professors used to say, it can give you “a charley horse between the ears.” Let me suggest four keys for unlocking the meaning of this book.

The Setting of Revelation

The first key: as you begin to read this book, you should understand the historical setting of Revelation’s original readers. The apostle John writes to seven churches in Asia Minor that are facing two threats near the end of the first century. The first threat is persecution. The Jews targeted the “heretical” Christians, and while Roman persecution of Christians is not yet empire-wide policy, it’s real and rampant nonetheless—especially for those who refused to participate in emperor worship. Believers who declined to say their Roman “pledge of allegiance” by offering a pinch of incense and pronouncing “Caesar is Lord” were viewed as treasonous and could lose their friends, jobs, even their lives.

So the believers in Ephesus have endured hardships for Christ’s name (2:3). Those in Smyrna have been slandered and will be put in prison (2:9, 10). In Pergamum, Antipas has already been killed (2:13). John himself is in exile on the prison island of Patmos (1:9). Someone said, “I would love Revelation if I was an oppressed minority,” and it is true this book speaks to those who face life-and-death struggles.

In building the application bridge from the original audience to us today, then, we must understand that Revelation deals with issues of true suffering, “not minor daily trials or inconvenient obstacles. The first-century believers to whom Revelation was addressed were facing martyrdom, not flat tires.”6 John’s book addresses those in deep despair—“when the police dogs are being released toward the marchers on the bridge into Selma, when the knock of the secret police is heard at the door and the church is hiding an attic full of Jews, when the diagnosis is melanoma and there is nothing more that the physicians can do.”7

But the second and greater threat John’s readers face is cultural seduction. They are tempted to conform to the priorities, values, and lifestyles of the culture around them. If the Enemy cannot destroy the believers through open conflict, he will dilute them through subtle compromise. Why push them into the electric chair when the easy chair will do? If they will just relax their obedience a bit to “fit in,” then the devil’s job is done. They will be “lukewarm—neither hot nor cold” and God will spit them out of his mouth (3:16).

Revelation is written to a comfortable church in an immoral culture, and the application bridge to contemporary American Christians is clear. Ronald Sider’s book The Scandal of the Evangelical Conscience: Why Christians Are Living Just Like the Rest of the World cites surveys showing that Christians aren’t living much differently than the culture—percentages of spousal abuse, giving habits, cohabitation, divorce, racism, and addiction to pornography are almost the same as those among non-Christians.8 John writes to challenge his readers—there are 72 second-person imperatives in the book—not to give in to the world. This book is not a crystal ball but a megaphone in John’s hands—a trumpet call to faith and endurance and radical holiness of life. When you understand the historical setting, you will begin to see Revelation’s relevance.

The Structure of Revelation

Next key: you’ll want to get a handle on the structure of Revelation. A simple, portable outline for the book can help you make sense of what you’re reading—so you can get the big sweep of the book. One friend said a simple outline of Revelation is “Things Are Bad, Things Are Going to Get Worse, We Win.” That’s not bad for starters, but let me offer a few more specific labels.

• Chapters 1-3 might be Jesus counsels the church, as we see the Lord comforting and confronting the seven churches in Asia Minor.

• Chapters 4 and 5 might be Jesus controls the universe, as we see the Lamb on the throne with the scroll of history in his hand.

• Chapters 6-11 might be Jesus condemns the earth, as the seven seals and seven trumpets unleash God’s judgment on a sinful world.

• Chapters 12-20 might be Jesus conquers Satan, as the conflict deepens and moves from the earthly sphere into the heavenlies where Christ is ultimately victorious.

• Chapters 21 and 22 might be Jesus consummates his long-awaited marriage, as the book climaxes with the New Jerusalem coming down out of Heaven like a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.

A special note: while we can appreciate the natural organization that the three sevens of judgment (seals, trumpets, bowls) provide, understand that they are not necessarily in chronological order—like some 21-point time line. In fact, John is likely employing repetition. Like a song returns to its chorus, with each set of sevens, John’s book is returning to the same event each time. In each of the sevens of judgment, he brings us to the end of the world, intensifying the degree of evil and God’s resulting judgment with each progressive “seven.”

Notice also that an interlude appears between the sixth and seventh of each group. The interlude in 7:1-17 stresses the saints’ security; 10:1–11:14 stresses the saints’ witness; 16:15 stresses the saints’ vigilance.9

When you look at the structure of Revelation, you will see that, in the midst of all the mind-blowing noise, visuals, and special effects, there’s a powerful story—an understandable plot that drives the whole book.

The Symbols of Revelation

Another key: pay close attention to the symbols of Revelation. In an attempt to convey the incredible vision he is given, John ransacks the Greek language for all the metaphors he can find. He pillages the Old Testament for images—more than 500 Old Testament allusions in 404 verses—as he pushes language to the breaking point trying to capture what he’s seeing.

As you read Revelation, you’ll want to interpret these symbols in two ways. First, look for the historical associations of the symbol. Rather than reading 21st-century connections into the text, point them to the first-century connections.

We must not rip Revelation’s metaphors out of their historical context, like the teachers who see modern-day Apache helicopters flying through John’s apocalypse. Instead we must seek to understand what the first readers would have understood.10

Second, look for the emotional associations of the symbols. The fact is, metaphors paint pictures that conjure powerful emotions. A lamb is innocent and vulnerable, a lion is fierce and noble, and a dragon is frighteningly large and evil. These images are meant to stir something in our hearts, but sometimes in our attempts to explain a symbol, some of its evocative power can be lost. Overexplaining can “unweave the rainbow.”

For example, when the dragon in Revelation 12 sweeps one-third of the stars from the sky with his tail when he falls, perhaps John is not trying to communicate a detailed piece of factual information (i.e., that a third of the angels fell with Satan to become demons). Perhaps John is just communicating that the dragon was really huge and really destructive. Maybe he’s trying to stir some visceral emotion within us, as much as transfer some intellectual knowledge to us. While the details are there for a reason, at the end of the day, don’t overpress the details of the symbolism. As Leland Ryken reminds us:

The truth is that for the most part the images and symbols of Revelation are universal. . . . Its images are those of our waking and sleeping dreams—lamb, dragon, beast, water, sea, sun, war, harvest, bride, throne, and jewels. Its color symbolism is equally universal—light for goodness, darkness for evil, red for bloodshed and perverse passion. Heaven is high, as we have always known it to be, and Hell is low and bottomless. . . . The book of Revelation does not require a guidebook to esoteric symbols. It requires a keen eye for the obvious.11

The Style of Revelation

A fourth and final key: understand the apocalyptic style of Revelation. The purpose of apocalyptic literature is “to interpret present, earthly circumstances in light of the supernatural world and of the future, and to influence both the understanding and the behavior of the audience by means of divine authority.”12

A contemporary example: I was 8 years old when Star Wars first hit theatres, and I was immediately swept up into a “galaxy far, far away” with Luke Skywalker and the ragtag Rebel Alliance as they took on Darth Vader and the evil Empire. Mark Wegeierski notes:

The Star Wars movies arrived at a critical time in American history. Post-Vietnam malaise, the oil crisis and an economic recession—as well as the feeling that “there was nothing right with America”—had characterized the 1970s. The Star Wars trilogy clearly served as a fresh tonic, rekindling the breezy optimism in the American psyche.13

During this time, President Reagan sought popular support for his strategy to win the Cold War with the Soviet Union. In a 1983 speech, he famously characterized the Soviet Union as an “evil empire.”

While media critics chastised such language, many Americans immediately resonated with the allusion. The “monochromatic, militaristic Galactic Empire” in Star Wars looked a lot like the Soviet Union. Besides, what American wouldn’t want to imagine himself as part of the scrappy, democratic, multicultural Rebel Alliance fighting against the odds for freedom against tyranny?14 Reagan captured the national imagination by applying a futuristic, otherworldly image to a present-day, this-worldly reality. We saw our world in terms of that other world.

That’s what apocalyptic literature does. It addresses our contemporary “thoughts, attitudes, and feelings by the use of effective symbols and a narrative plot that invites imaginative participation.”15 John’s narrative of dragons and angels and swords is not a story of some future time, but is meant to be the story of our time. His readers should be swept up into the drama, imagining themselves as participants in the cosmic struggle of which he writes. His world of huge harlots and terrible beasts is really the Roman world of bustling marketplaces and cheering colosseums . . . and our world of minivans and Super Bowls and shopping malls.

The wise reader of Revelation will understand that the apocalyptic style envisions a strange world in order to recast the way we see our familiar world.

NEXT WEEK: Why should I read Revelation?

________

1Fred Craddock, “Reflections on an Early Christian Sermon: Form,” Abilene Christian University Lectures on Preaching (Abilene: 1999).

2John Ortberg, Experience God’s Power (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2002), 12.

3Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor (Dallas: Word Publishing, 1989), 51.

4Ibid.

5Ibid., 47.

6Mike Graves, The Sermon as Symphony (Valley Forge: Judson Press, 1997), 244, 245.

7Tom Long, “Preaching Apocalyptic Literature,” Review and Expositor 90, Summer 1993, 374.

8Ronald Sider, The Scandal of the Evangelical Conscience: Why Christians Are Living Just Like the Rest of the World (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2005).

9See Robert Lowery, Revelation’s Rhapsody (Joplin: College Press, 2006), chapter 7.

10Ibid., chapters 5 and 6.

11Leland Ryken and Tremper Longman, eds., A Complete Literary Guide to the Bible (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1993), 460.

12Adela Yarbro Collins, “Introduction: Early Christian Apocalypticism,” Semeia 36, 1986, 7.

13Mark Wegierski, “Reagan: Jedi Knight,” World, 22 May 1999.

14Ibid.

15Adela Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis: The Power of the Apocalypse (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1984), 145.

Matt Proctor is president of Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri, and a CHRISTIAN STANDARD contributing editor.

Even if I understand how to read Revelation, an important question remains: why should I read it? How will it help me devotionally? In what ways will it make me a better follower of Jesus?

Another way of asking this: We know God has promised a blessing to those who take hold of the words of Revelation (1:3). But what kind of blessings should our people expect?

Here are seven ways I deepen my faith when I read Revelation:

I approach Jesus more humbly (chapter 1).

I was a BUICK—that stands for a Brought Up In Church Kid—and I saw the flannelgraph pictures of Jesus in his white robe, blue sash, soft flowing brown hair, kind eyes, a lamb around his shoulders, and children on his lap. I saw a gentle Jesus, a nice Jesus, a “Mr. Rogers” Jesus.

While Jesus is certainly meek and humble of heart, the danger for someone like me is that I can put Jesus in my theological dryer and shrink him. He just becomes my XL buddy. When you declaw the Lion of Judah, when he simply becomes a warm and fuzzy household pet, you can lose your reverence, fear, and awe.

But not if I read Revelation. In Revelation 1, I am overwhelmed by this glorious, dreadful vision of Christ. This is not the gentle Jesus with children on his lap. This Jesus speaks in Niagara thunder. He blazes with blinding supernova brilliance. This Jesus could play kickball with our planet. This Jesus could flick his finger and send our solar system spinning off into space. He is clothed in glory and majesty and splendor and power and authority, and this is not a Jesus in whose presence you can just casually stand around. This vision of Jesus washes over you, crushing you like a tidal wave and leaving you fighting for your life, your very breath. John fell at his feet as though dead (1:17).

So I am warned: Jesus is not a smiling buddy who winks at sin. He is not, as Tom Howard reminds us, “a pale Galilean, but a towering and furious figure who will not be managed.”1 When I read Revelation, I approach Jesus more humbly, more reverently, with awe.

I love the church more honestly (chapters 2 and 3).

I love God’s idea called the church! When I read books like Ephesians and Acts, I catch God’s vision for this vibrant, victorious community. I imagine a band of believers ablaze with love for Jesus, preaching the good news in the marketplace, embracing the sick and shameful with Christ’s love, digging deeply into Scripture together. To be a part of a body like that—what a glorious joy! Sign me up!

But then I go to church and find people who sometimes care more about carpet color than compassion, who hold their money too tightly, who bicker and quarrel and know their TV Guide better than their Bible. I saw a book entitled Church: Why Bother? and when I see congregations shamed by immoral scandal or dulled by years of the same routine, I can get frustrated and feel like giving up on the church.

But not if I read Revelation. All churches have fallen short of the glory of God, and nowhere is that clearer than in Revelation 2 and 3. These churches are marked by immorality, sloppy teaching, apathy, and complacency. The churches are a mess—just like the ones I know. As my friend Mark Moore says, “We say we want to be the New Testament church. Congratulations, we made it!”

But the good news is, Jesus still loves these churches. It’s tough love, to be sure. In these seven letters, Jesus challenges and corrects and confronts—moving them to maturity. But it’s love nonetheless. “The Lord disciplines the one he loves” (Hebrews 12:6). And with the confrontation is commendation. For each church except Laodicea, he affirms the good he sees mixed in with the bad. He loves these churches not because they’re perfect, but because they’re his.

That’s the essence of true love. I heard about a girl who said, as she was breaking up with her boyfriend, “I will always cherish the initial misconception I had about you.” Ouch! Real love doesn’t happen in fantasy; it happens in reality. You can’t love someone for who you wish they were; you must love them as they actually are, flaws and all. That’s why Dietrich Bonhoeffer said true Christian community begins with disillusionment. You aren’t really loving your Christian brothers until they’ve disappointed you and you choose to stick by them anyway. That’s what Jesus does for the churches in Revelation 2 and 3, and when I read these chapters, I too am inspired to love the church more honestly.

I enter worship more selflessly (chapters 4 and 5).

My wife and I have six kids. Can I tell you what a typical Sunday morning looks like at my house? I’d like to say it’s a focused time of joy and preparation, as my family smilingly helps each other get ready and then sings hymns in harmony on the van ride to church. But the reality is, Sunday mornings are crazy; it seems we’re always running late, I can lose my cool with the kids, and too often I’m rushing into the sanctuary with a pounding heart and irritated soul. I’m not focused on God.

It’s easy to focus on so many other things during worship—family or work or the ball game or how someone’s dressed or the music style or the misspelled PowerPoint slide. We can be thinking more about the excellence of the program than the excellence of God.

But not if I read Revelation. When you walk through the open door in Revelation 4, you enter the throne room of Heaven. You suck in your breath, shield your eyes from the dazzling light, and drop to your knees in fear and wonder. Incense fills your nostrils. An angelic host so vast you have to count it by the ten thousands shakes the very foundations of the sky with their praise. The countless thundering voices rumble in your chest. The noise is so loud you can’t hear yourself think.

As you trace their attention, you find every being is focused on the throne. At the center of that throne is a majestic God—so glorious the only way John can paint him is by dipping his brush in thunder, lightning, rainbows, and jewels. At the center of the throne is a merciful Christ—the Lamb who gave his life as the ransom for men. And in the light of this sovereign God and this sacrificial Christ, we weep at our own pettiness. How can we have been thinking about anything else? All eyes are on the throne, and all anyone here is thinking about is the greatness of God and the goodness of Christ. When I catch a glimpse of God as I read Revelation, I enter worship more selflessly.

I endure suffering more confidently (chapters 6-9).

When the going gets tough, what do you do? Sometimes it gets tough because we live in a fallen world of tornadoes, cancer, car wrecks, and floods. The effects of sin affect us all. Sometimes the going gets tough because we’re Christian. As Paul promised, “Everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Timothy 3:12). When the going gets tough, what do you do?

Revelation 6-9 teaches me to sing. The going gets tough in these chapters—war, famine, murder, earthquakes, stars falling to earth, warrior locusts. The slain believers in chapter 6 ask God, “How long will this suffering last?” In tough times, we wonder if God has forgotten us.

Phillip Yancey tells the story of some Americans in a German prison camp in World War II who, unbeknownst to the guards, built a makeshift radio. One day news came over the radio that the German high command had surrendered, ending the war, but because of a communications breakdown, the German guards didn’t yet know. It wasn’t until four days later that the Americans woke to discover the Germans had fled, leaving the gates unlocked. In the three interim days, those prisoners still suffered. They were still mocked and abused, but they were changed. They waved to the guards, laughed at the German shepherd dogs, told jokes over meals, and in the midst of their captivity, they sang, because they knew their salvation was sure and soon.

In Revelation 7, the oppressed believers get a news bulletin about the near future. The time is coming when they will stand before the throne. The Lamb will be their shepherd and lead them to springs of living water, and God will wipe every tear from their eyes. Because their salvation is soon and sure, they can sing the song in 7:10, “Salvation belongs to our God.” So when my going gets tough, I too can sing. Heaven awaits and God has not forgotten me, so I can endure suffering more confidently.

I speak God truth more courageously (chapters 10 and 11).

These chapters can be hard to understand. How exactly can they help me in my Christian life? First, notice the main characters: John (chapter 10) and the two witnesses (chapter 11). Second, notice their activity. All three are commanded to speak the message of God. But all three discover that preaching is not all about congratulations and conversions. Notice the results: when John swallows God’s message, it’s bitter. When the witnesses finish speaking their testimony, they get killed. What does this teach me? Witnessing means telling God’s truth, no matter the consequences. As one African-American preacher put it, “The church must be prophetic or it will be pathetic.”

I don’t know about you, but I need reminded of that. Our world does not like to hear God’s truth and can get hostile. Somebody said, “If you are the light of the world, you’re going to attract a few bugs.” Or as Wayne Smith puts it, “If you carry the ball for Christ, you’re going to get tackled.” Sometimes, in the interest of keeping the peace, we can be tempted to keep silent. Nobody wants to be seen as intolerant or judgmental. It’s easier just to be quiet.

Which is why we need these chapters. Notice: John doesn’t write as much to instruct us in witnessing as to inspire us to witnessing. I don’t need more explanation. I need examples. It’s not information I lack. It’s courage. Seeing these witnesses speak boldly for God shoots adrenaline through my soul. They paid the price for faithfulness. Surely I can speak up for Christ to my neighbor. Though the world may reject, God will reward (11:18). When I read Revelation, I say, “Make me like these guys. Make me a witness.” I speak God’s truth more courageously.

I see evil more clearly (chapters 12-18).

Looming over these chapters, John shows us evil personified as a violent dragon, two grotesque beasts, and a prostitute. We need these shocking images because we don’t always see evil as plainly as that. The world teaches us to call un-nice things by nicer names. Instead of cheating, it’s creative accounting. Instead of lying, it’s massaging the truth. Instead of homosexuality, it’s an alternative lifestyle. Instead of profanity, it’s freedom of expression. It’s not gossip; it’s concern. Satan is a deceiver, and his most effective strategy is dressing up ugly realities in beautiful words.

So in these chapters, John exposes the evil that seeks to deceive his readers. False religion and godless government are not simply well-meaning but misguided institutions. They are evil beasts that belong to the dragon. Follow the strings, and you will find they are marionettes of Satan, puppets of the prince of this world. The fallen culture around you may at first appear attractive, and it will seem she is offering you the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But in Revelation 17, John unmasks her as a cheap, diseased streetwalker. She will be destroyed and all those with her, so don’t be seduced.

John is teaching us to call sin by its true name. What looks harmless is hellish. This world is not a playground but a battleground, and the battle rages in the things I buy, movies I see, activities I pursue, conversations I have, priorities I set, and beliefs I live by. In all of these, Satan will tempt me to make subtle compromises, and I must keep my eyes wide open. When I read Revelation, I see evil more clearly.

I will long for Christ’s return more deeply (chapters 19-22).

John wants to teach us to pray, “Come, Lord Jesus.” We are to have the attitude of Paul who said he longed for Christ’s appearing (2 Timothy 4). Mark Buchanan writes, “Our hearts are to have an inner tilt upward, the grain of our souls is to lean heavenward. We are to be heaven-bent. . . . Like the tug and heft of a huge unseen planet hovering near, the hope of heaven is meant to exert a gravitational pull on our lives that we cannot escape.”2 But there was a time in my life when I prayed, “Come Lord Jesus . . . just not yet.” I was young and had so much left I wanted to do—foods to taste, mountains to climb, books to read. I wanted to get married, have kids, enjoy life, and then see Jesus return. I was still attached to this world. “Come Lord Jesus . . . just not yet.”

But I’m older now. I’ve seen the world for what it really is—a place marred by sin. I’m tired of famine, abortion, murder, deceit, natural disaster, cancer, death, sin, and Satan running loose through this world. Jesus is tired of it too! The day is coming when he will come crashing through the clouds, the angelic host behind him. Time will screech to a halt. In an instant (not some drawn-out Armageddon battle), Satan and sin and death will be defeated. They will be thrown into the lake of fire, and a new world will be ours!

When I read Revelation, my heart is captured by a new Heaven and a new earth, a wedding banquet, a beautiful city, and a whole new kind of life. We will live in a city with no prisons, hospitals, cemeteries, or police stations. There will be no more sickness, no more death, no more pain, no more crying, no more night. We will live in a world with mountains and rivers and birds and trees so beautiful our souls will ache within us. We will see our loved ones who have died in Christ. We will work and play and laugh and dance. We will explore and learn and talk and worship together for eternity. And best of all, we’ll see our Lord face-to-face. What a glorious day that will be!

That’s what our hearts long for. “Heaven is the ache in our bones. Heaven is the splinter in our heart. Heaven is our deepest instinct.”3 When I read Revelation, I pray, “Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly.”

A Final Challenge

Yes, I avoided this book when I was a young preacher, but I have repented, and my confession is this: I need this book. On my darkest days, it is this vision that can keep me going. It is this vision that can strengthen my obedience, lengthen my endurance, and deepen my faith. It is no “haunted house,” but a welcoming home to refresh and revive me when I am weary of heart.

You need this book too. So don’t avoid it. Don’t neglect it. Read Revelation. Then let God’s Word do the work that only it can do. Immerse yourself in the powerful truth of this book, and I promise you—no, God promises you—you will be blessed!

________

1Eugene Peterson, Reversed Thunder (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1988), 29.

2Mark Buchanan, Things Unseen (Sisters: Multnomah, 2002), 11, 24.

3Ibid., 29

Matt Proctor is president of Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri, and a CHRISTIAN STANDARD contributing editor.

Matt Proctor serves as president at Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri.

Well, two big things have been part of your life this past year: the North American Christian Convention and your wife’s cancer. Of course, that’s in addition to your work leading Ozark Christian College. I want to talk about all of it—let’s start with the NACC. What have you discovered about our churches this past year?

Matt Proctor preaching on opening night at the 2013 North American Christian Convention in Louisville, Kentucky.

It’s been an honor to serve as the North American president. The travel schedule took me to some new places, and I’m really encouraged by what I see. I visited lots of churches with a strong outreach mind-set that want to touch their communities with the love of Christ. I see a strong missions heart, people who want to know what God is doing around the world and how they can be part of it. I see preachers who have really embraced preaching and teaching through books of the Bible.

I would stack the leaders in our movement with the best anywhere. We also have a ton of healthy midsize churches. They may not be the ones making the headlines, but this year I was really encouraged by the ones I got to know.

Some folks worry we’re going to compromise on baptism or try to find the lowest common denominator with the Evangelical world, and I don’t find that to be true at all. If anything, in recent years I’ve seen a stronger emphasis on baptism. Honestly, I think some of our megachurches have waved that banner better than ever.

I’m sure you’ve been asked this question before—what led you to choose Revelation as this year’s NACC theme?

Two reasons. First, Revelation tells us we’re part of a bigger story. I studied the book with Dr. Robert Lowery and he turned my world upside down—which I think apocalypse is supposed to do. It set my imagination on fire to reenvision the world through Christ’s eyes. Sometimes we think our lives are so ordinary, and we forget we are all playing a part in an epic story.

We had an apologetics professor at Ozark who loved Star Wars. (He liked to say he was training “apolojedi.”) Every morning he would listen to the theme music to remind him that even though he was going off to do regular professor stuff—give lectures, meet with students, grade papers—he was actually part of this grand cosmic conflict with very high stakes, the battle for immortal human souls. And that’s what Revelation is meant to do. So I wanted people who were scared of the book to read it and, even if they didn’t understand every little detail, be able to reimagine their world and their lives as part of the grand salvation drama of the ages.

Second, Revelation tells us we’re part of a hopeful story. Everybody needs a strong dose of hope. Little did I know, of course, that the message of hope for suffering people was something I would need because of situations in my own family. Looking back on it, God was working upstream and he knew I was going to need to live with the message of Revelation this year.

When did you get the diagnosis that Katie had cancer? 

February 15 was the day the doctor dropped the cancer word on our family. She had been sick since the beginning of the year; still, that diagnosis was a punch in the gut. But I married a woman of faith, and we held onto the constancy and goodness of God. We knew that whatever happened, he was going to take care of our family.

Not that there’s ever a good time to face cancer, but this was not the year.

In a lot of ways it’s turned out better than I could have planned, because we needed the North American theme in our lives. The word victorious was all over our house because I had NACC displays and literature I carried with me everywhere, so we were constantly reminded that no matter what happened, we would win in the end.

And we are already surrounded by a great church family and college family, but because of my role this year we were also surrounded by the Christian church family, and literally thousands of people and hundreds of churches mentioned my wife’s name in prayer during that time. If there was ever a reminder of why the NACC is important as a way to connect us, this was it. We were overwhelmed and humbled.

I was scheduled to speak at a big teen convention the weekend after the diagnosis and couldn’t attend. All the teens at the convention signed a huge card and sent it to our house and it just blew our kids away. My son tweeted a picture of it and wrote, “I love the church.” My kids got to see the church at its best. I’ll forever be grateful for that.

How is Katie doing? 

We’re celebrating that at the moment Katie is cancer-free. She’ll have to take meds for the rest of her life because this particular cancer has a fairly high recurrence rate. There are some side effects, and there’s a new normal for us. But we’re so grateful for answered prayers, and we’re just going to trust God every day to keep leading us.

Everything else pales in comparison to that experience, but another unpleasant moment this year must have been that Business Insider article ranking Ozark as “not worth the money.”

I’m sure they were well-intentioned, and the issue of escalating costs in higher education is certainly a legitimate one. The point of the article was to compare the cost of a school’s education to the expected salary of a school’s graduates.

I think our cost is very reasonable. I think the average cost nationally of a four-year private college education is $36,000 a year, and we’re less than half that. But because we are a Bible college, unlike other schools on the list, the vast majority of our graduates go into ministry, which isn’t exactly a ticket to riches. So they are right that our graduates aren’t going to make as much as a graduate from, say, Harvard.

But I don’t think the effectiveness of our mission is measured by the size of a paycheck. Our effectiveness is measured by things like churches planted, Bibles translated, missionaries sent, marriages mended, children taught, teenagers mentored, and lives changed by the gospel. Our graduates get to see some paychecks more important than the ones you deposit in your bank account.

It’s part of a larger conversation we’re hearing more and more about the rising costs of college. The debt load is a real issue, especially for people in ministry. 

And it’s an important conversation to have. We try to operate really lean and stay pretty efficient so we can keep those costs down while offering a quality experience. I think of Bob Russell’s line—“excellence without extravagance.”

It’s always a balancing act because we want to provide a quality education, which means quality people. But when health insurance costs for our staff go up by 20 or 40 percent, that either gets paid for by gift income or by a raise in tuition.

We also encourage students to work hard and not just take out their maximum loans every semester, so they can leave school with the least amount of debt possible. And we’re continually trying to raise scholarship funds. That’s one of our development office’s main goals.

What’s going on at Ozark that you’re especially excited about? 

I’m really excited about our partnerships, like the one with Orchard Group. For the last few years we’ve sent students to New York City to take classes, visit church plants, and explore urban church planting. Some of the kids who participate in this will become church planters and some will become leaders who have a heart for church planting. A few recent grads are planting in Japan and having amazing success—that’s a direct result of this program.

We’re in discussions with Christ In Youth and Good News Productions about partnering to train students in media and storytelling and using those tools for gospel work.

We also started a new BA in Biblical Justice this fall. The name is intentional—we’re taking a biblical approach that means caring for the whole person, body and soul. We’re partnering with some churches like Southland Christian in Lexington that are doing a great job combining evangelism and compassion ministries.

I love the way we work together. All of these good things for your students are happening because our churches and parachurches are working with you.

It’s the genius of the Restoration Movement. We call ourselves “independent Christian churches” but actually we’re interdependent. Even though we have more than 5,000 congregations, it just feels like a small town because everywhere I go I meet someone who knows someone I know.

I also love how nimble we are, because we can respond to needs without the bureaucracy. So many of our organizations began because someone saw the need, had the freedom to take the initiative, and worked with others to make something happen.

One of my goals this year was to really wave the banner with the younger generation, not just for the NACC but for our movement. So I tried to get into as many of our colleges as I could and share the value of staying connected, because ours is a great family to be part of. I love our tribe.

Jennifer Johnson, herself one of CHRISTIAN STANDARD’s contributing editors, is a writer living in Levittown, Pennsylvania.

Ten years ago, the OCC faculty used its weekly faculty meetings for an entire semester to study the biblical teaching on women’s roles in the church. Together we surveyed Scripture and exegeted the key New Testament passages. Our goal was to set political correctness and cultural pressures aside and to simply let God’s Word have its say on this important subject.

We wanted to follow wise hermeneutical principles in our study. We employed the principle of harmony, which reminded us not to interpret any text in isolation. Rather, we sought to interpret each particular Scripture in light of all of Scripture. God’s Word does not contradict itself, so we sought to harmonize the Bible’s teachings.

Our journey was also guided by the principle of history, which reminded us that God’s eternal commands were communicated in specific historical contexts. A text cannot mean what it never meant, so we sought to hear the Bible’s words as the first readers would have. As we understood the original historical-grammatical context, we would understand the Word of God.

Finally, we wanted to follow the principle of humility. This principle simply reminded us that, while God’s Word is absolutely authoritative, my particular interpretation of it is not. We are fallible human beings, and we are wise to at least entertain the possibility that our understanding of Scripture might be wrong. We must allow for our minds to be changed if our study of the Bible leads us to a different place than where we started. This is true submission to God.

So What Does the Rest of the Bible Actually Say?

With those guidelines in place, Ozark faculty members began their exegetical journey. We wanted to obey 1 Timothy 2:12. But to understand what it was (and wasn’t) saying, we needed to look at the rest of Scripture’s teaching on women’s leadership.

In the Old Testament, primary leadership of God’s people was reserved for men. All the priests were men; every published prophet was a man. However, on occasion, women did have a leadership role among God’s people. Women, such as Miriam (Exodus 15:20, 21) and the ladies in the choir (1 Chronicles 25:5, 6; Ezra 2:65; Nehemiah 7:67) helped lead worship. Deborah served as both a judge and a prophetess (Judges 4:4). Miriam, Huldah (2 Kings 22:14), and Isaiah’s wife (Isaiah 8:3) were also called prophetesses.

How about in the New Testament? In the Bible’s last 27 books, it again seemed clear that men were the primary leaders of God’s people. All 12 apostles were men; church elders were described as men. In fact, 1 Timothy 2:12, 13 grounded this in the doctrine of creation itself. Adam was formed first, says Paul, as God’s way of hard-wiring male leadership into his created order.

The New Testament often showed us women involved in nonleadership works of service—Martha feeding Jesus and his disciples (Luke 10:40), Tabitha (Dorcas) making coats for widows (Acts 9:39), Nympha hosting a church in her home (Colossians 4:15). One wag noted that if the wise men of Matthew 2 had instead been wise women, they would have asked directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, and brought practical gifts like diapers! This much was certain: like the Mary mentioned in Romans 16:6, women “worked very hard” in the church’s behind-the-scenes labors.

But we also saw women’s gifts deployed in occasional proclamation and ministry leadership roles. After Jesus’ resurrection, God chose women to be the first bearers of the Easter message, as Mary and Mary Magdalene announced it to the apostles (Matthew 28:1, 7). Anna was called a prophetess (Luke 2:36), as were Philip’s four daughters (Acts 21:8, 9). Phoebe was called a deacon (Romans 16:1), and Romans 16:7 seemed to call Junia an “apostle”—in the broader, general sense of “missionary” or “one sent out” like Barnabas (Acts 14:14) and Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:25). Priscilla, with her husband Aquila, taught Apollos privately (Acts 18:26), and we heard Paul saying that Euodia and Syntyche somehow “contended at my side in the cause of the gospel” (Philippians 4:2, 3).

So far, then, the Bible seemed to be painting a picture of ongoing, regular male leadership—sprinkled with rarer moments of occasional female leadership—among God’s people.

An Often Overlooked Text

But as our faculty study continued, the question remained: what about women preaching? Doesn’t 1 Timothy 2:12 say that a woman is not to teach a man? Clearly a woman may teach a man in private, as Priscilla did with Apollos, so 1 Timothy 2:12 must instead mean that a woman may not teach a man publicly in the church assembly, right?

It is certainly true that 1 Timothy 2 is about the public worship service. However, an often-overlooked text clarified our understanding of that passage.

In 1 Corinthians 11:5, Paul tells us that women prophesied in the New Testament church’s worship assembly. Important note: as you may know, prophesying in Scripture was more proclamation than prediction. While it might include foretelling, more often prophesying meant forthtelling God’s message to God’s people.1 In other words, it was much like what we call preaching today.

First Corinthians 11 was telling us that, in the first-century culture, a woman who prophesied in church should keep her head covered, indicating an attitude of submission to the church’s male leaders. The implication was clear: a woman is allowed, in a posture of humble followership, to prophesy in the church’s assembly. She can share a message from God, even with the men present.

Since the Bible doesn’t contradict itself, this understanding of 1 Corinthians 11 led us as a faculty to believe that, whatever 1 Timothy 2 was teaching, it must not be teaching that women can never on any occasion speak or proclaim God’s message in church. Otherwise Paul would be prohibiting in the 1 Timothy text what he allows in the 1 Corinthians 11 text.2

By the way, we couldn’t help thinking of the Day of Pentecost. What text did Peter use for the very first Christian sermon? He quoted Joel 2 to talk about the Spirit’s new indwelling presence among Christ’s followers, “In the last days, God says, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy” (Acts 2:17).

But if the church’s daughters can prophesy/preach, then what exactly was Paul prohibiting in 1 Timothy 2:12?

A Critical Clue in the Grammar

At this point, we as a faculty moved from the principle of harmony (what does the rest of the Bible say?) to the principle of history (how would the original readers have understood this?).

I once had a preaching professor who said that Greek in a sermon should be like underwear: it should provide good support but you shouldn’t let it show! Pardon me for letting some Greek show, but it’s important because God communicated his eternal truth in normal human grammar that can be analyzed and comprehended. Understanding the biblical grammar helps us understand the biblical God. So hang with me here.

The original readers of 1 Timothy, of course, spoke Greek, and when Paul wrote 1 Timothy 2:12, he chose a very specific Greek grammatical construction. The phrase “to teach” (didaskein in Greek) is a present tense infinitive instead of an aorist tense infinitive.3 The aorist tense is a close-up photographic snapshot of an action, picturing as little as one particular occurrence. The present tense is a wide-angle movie camera shot of an action, picturing a continuous, habitual, ongoing condition—a state of being.

For example, “to believe” (aorist) means to exercise faith on a given occasion, while “to believe” (present) means to be a believer. “To serve” (aorist) means to perform an act of service, while “to serve” (present) means to be a servant. “To sin” (aorist) means to commit a particular sin, while “to sin” (present) means to be a sinner.4

So “to teach” (aorist) means to teach on a given occasion, while “to teach” (present) means to be a teacher. When Paul says in 1 Timothy 2:12 that he does not permit a woman “to teach” (present), he is not saying she can never teach on any given occasion in church. Instead, he is saying that a woman should not be the continuous, ongoing, habitual teacher. That’s the implication of the Greek grammar, and it’s reasonable to believe this is how the original readers would’ve understood it.

A Conclusion to Our Exegetical Journey

This raised a question: who are the continuous, ongoing, habitual teachers for the congregation? The answer is in the immediately following context of 1 Timothy. Just a few verses later, Paul tells us that the elders are the teachers. (Elders are men “able to teach” in 1 Timothy 3:2.) They are the recognized, authoritative, the-buck-stops-here teachers. So from the context, it would seem that when Paul says he “does not allow a woman to teach or have authority over a man,” he is saying that he does not allow women to be elders.

By the way, the description in the New Testament that best fits what we call the “preacher” of a church is the elder who is paid to preach and teach (1 Timothy 5:17). So if a modern-day “preacher” is a preaching-teaching elder, then it would seem that 1 Timothy 2:12 prohibits women from being the preacher of a local congregation.

All of this certainly squared with our survey of the Old Testament: ongoing, regular male leadership—sprinkled with rarer moments of occasional female leadership—among God’s people. So as a faculty, after our study of Scripture, we came to these conclusions:

1. Beginning with creation, God has hard-wired male spiritual leadership into the system, and God is calling men to step up as the primary leaders in his church.

2. The regular teachers and leaders in any congregation, then, are to be the elders—a role reserved for men. This includes the role of “the preacher” in a local church.

3. The New Testament does also allow for women, on occasion, to preach and teach in church—from a posture of submission to the elders’ ultimate authority.

Don’t Miss the Most Important Fact

As a college under the authority of Scripture, we want to prohibit what the Bible prohibits and allow what the Bible allows. So, yes, in our curriculum at Ozark Christian College, we have a preaching class for women—but not because we believe women should be the preacher of a local church. Rather, it’s because we believe that when women have opportunity to preach and teach on occasion (as the Bible seems to allow), they should be prepared to do their best for God’s glory and the church’s good.

In all the talk about women preaching, don’t miss this important fact: women are also gifted and called to serve in many significant ways in the church’s life that are not “up-front” ministry. These should be honored and celebrated, because God-given gender roles are not meant to be competitive but complementary. We’re all wearing the same jersey, and God never intended to leave the female half of his team sitting on the bench. He wants them in the game because we have a world to win.

As Jesus said, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few” (Matthew 9:37). The evangelistic need is so great that the Lord calls all hands on deck, ready to work, without squabbling about who gets to do what. Let’s equip every available person—man and woman—in every biblically possible way to share the good news with a lost world. I think Kay Moll put it best when she said, “I am not so concerned about the role of women as I am the cause of Christ.”

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1“Less than 2 percent of Old Testament prophecy is messianic. Less than 5 percent specifically describes the New Covenant age. Less than 1 percent concerns (end times) events.” Gordon Fee and Douglas Stuart, How to Read the Bible for All It’s Worth (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1981), 150.

2In 1 Corinthians 14:34, Paul says, “Women should remain silent in the churches.” But just a few chapters before, in 1 Corinthians 11, he had clearly made allowance for women to prophesy in church! Is he contradicting himself? No. The context of 1 Corinthians 14 would indicate he is excluding women from the authoritative teaching function of weighing prophecy in the assembly, not excluding them from uttering prophecy in the assembly. Weighing prophecy, it would seem, is likely reserved for the elders . . . who, as we shall see, are to be men. See D.A. Carson’s chapter in Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood: A Response to Evangelical Feminism, eds. John Piper and Wayne Grudem (Wheaton: Crossway, 1991).

3“To have authority” in 1 Timothy 2:12 is also a present tense infinitive.

4Kenneth Wuest, The Pastoral Epistles in the Greek New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1958), 48.

Matt Proctor is president of Ozark Christian College, Joplin, Missouri, and a CHRISTIAN STANDARD contributing editor.

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‘Humility: The Bookends of Bible Study’