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		<title>Diary of the Blue Ridge</title>
		<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/</link>
		<description>A journal of the good life.  Reformed essays considering the implications of the gospel in the various mundane and startling avenues of life.   </description>
		<dc:language>en</dc:language>
		<dc:date>2008-11-22T19:33:05-04:00</dc:date>
		<dc:creator>Joshua Seth Anderson</dc:creator>

				<item>
			<title>General Assembly 2005</title>
			<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=74</link>
			<description>&lt;br /&gt;One of the more interesting things that took place at this year's General Assembly of the PCA was an attempt at passing a resolution that would have &lt;a href=&quot;http://worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=44770&quot;&gt;advised PCA members to pull their children out of public schools.&lt;/a&gt; As a PCA member and product of a home school education, I was interested to see how my denomination would respond to this kind of resolution (the SBC voted down a similiar resolution last year, I think).  To no one's suprise, the resolution was voted down by the PCA too--regardless of how I or anyone else thinks about this issue, the PCA is far too mainstream to take this kind of radical stand on public schools anytime soon.  I was dissapointed by the debate over the issue on the floor of the assembly, though--because there wasn't much.  Basically, the moderator allowed about 4 consecutive speakers to argue against the resolution (the rules say the debate is supposed to alternate between speakers for and against issues), and then when someone was finally allowed to argue for the resolution, he was cut off in the middle of his speech because time for debate had expired.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were two main arguments presented against the resolution.  The first was that there is a difference between &quot;training&quot; and &quot;education,&quot; and it is possible to send your children to public schools for training while educating them at home, and therefore the whole discussion is irrevelant.  Basically, the speaker seemed to concede that public schools trained children in a godless way, but this didn't make any difference in their training. I think the problem with this argument is that it assumes that training children in reading or literature or history or math or science is by definition a value-neutral operation--that is, it doesn't make much difference who teaches your children such things (an atheist, a muslim, a Christian), because all they're being taught are the facts.  Well...in my opinion, I don't think that's really how things work.  Surely the perspective and assumptions a teacher makes about each of these subjects has a great impact on how they think about them and in turn, train their students--if post-modernism hasn't taught us that much, I don't know what it has done.  I think the basic problem with this argument is that it assumes a secular-sacred distinction in the arena of education--there are things that can be taught by anyone, regardless of their beliefs and perspectives (math, science, history), and there are things that need to be taught by Christian parents (the bible, religion).  Nancy Pearcey's new book, &lt;i&gt;Total Truth&lt;/i&gt; is a helpful work on this issue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other, and I think, better argument put forward against the resolution went something like this: as a parent, it's my own business how I educate my children, and for the denomination to try and tell me how to do it is overstepping the bounds of their authority. I think this is probably where I ultimately stand on this issue right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Therefore, if I am ever a pastor myself, I plan to do my best to make sure my parishoners are being thoughtful and intentionally submissive to scripture in their treatment of their children's education--but I don't see it necessary to spell out exactly what that looks like in their particular circumstance.   I don't know if that's a problematic view or not, as I think one of the worst things can happen to a church is people looking down on others because of how they raise their kids.  Perhaps as a pastor, this means you have to be something of a pluralist.  I don't know.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultimately, I think how one raises his children is the responsibility of the parent, and the church's job is to equip the parent to make those decisions, not make the decisions for them. &lt;br /&gt;</description>
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			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<br />One of the more interesting things that took place at this year's General Assembly of the PCA was an attempt at passing a resolution that would have <a href="http://worldnetdaily.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=44770">advised PCA members to pull their children out of public schools.</a> As a PCA member and product of a home school education, I was interested to see how my denomination would respond to this kind of resolution (the SBC voted down a similiar resolution last year, I think).  To no one's suprise, the resolution was voted down by the PCA too--regardless of how I or anyone else thinks about this issue, the PCA is far too mainstream to take this kind of radical stand on public schools anytime soon.  I was dissapointed by the debate over the issue on the floor of the assembly, though--because there wasn't much.  Basically, the moderator allowed about 4 consecutive speakers to argue against the resolution (the rules say the debate is supposed to alternate between speakers for and against issues), and then when someone was finally allowed to argue for the resolution, he was cut off in the middle of his speech because time for debate had expired.  <br /><br />There were two main arguments presented against the resolution.  The first was that there is a difference between "training" and "education," and it is possible to send your children to public schools for training while educating them at home, and therefore the whole discussion is irrevelant.  Basically, the speaker seemed to concede that public schools trained children in a godless way, but this didn't make any difference in their training. I think the problem with this argument is that it assumes that training children in reading or literature or history or math or science is by definition a value-neutral operation--that is, it doesn't make much difference who teaches your children such things (an atheist, a muslim, a Christian), because all they're being taught are the facts.  Well...in my opinion, I don't think that's really how things work.  Surely the perspective and assumptions a teacher makes about each of these subjects has a great impact on how they think about them and in turn, train their students--if post-modernism hasn't taught us that much, I don't know what it has done.  I think the basic problem with this argument is that it assumes a secular-sacred distinction in the arena of education--there are things that can be taught by anyone, regardless of their beliefs and perspectives (math, science, history), and there are things that need to be taught by Christian parents (the bible, religion).  Nancy Pearcey's new book, <i>Total Truth</i> is a helpful work on this issue.<br /><br />The other, and I think, better argument put forward against the resolution went something like this: as a parent, it's my own business how I educate my children, and for the denomination to try and tell me how to do it is overstepping the bounds of their authority. I think this is probably where I ultimately stand on this issue right now. <br /><br />Therefore, if I am ever a pastor myself, I plan to do my best to make sure my parishoners are being thoughtful and intentionally submissive to scripture in their treatment of their children's education--but I don't see it necessary to spell out exactly what that looks like in their particular circumstance.   I don't know if that's a problematic view or not, as I think one of the worst things can happen to a church is people looking down on others because of how they raise their kids.  Perhaps as a pastor, this means you have to be something of a pluralist.  I don't know.  <br /><br />Ultimately, I think how one raises his children is the responsibility of the parent, and the church's job is to equip the parent to make those decisions, not make the decisions for them. <br />]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>Joshua Seth Anderson</dc:creator>
			<dc:date>2005-06-18T14:41:02-04:00</dc:date>
			<slash:comments>0</slash:comments>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>A New and Greater Samuel</title>
			<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=73</link>
			<description>The paper that I felt strongest about this semester, and likely put the most work into was an theological essay on Luke's use of allusion to Samuel in his story of Jesus in the temple in Luke 2.  In the essay I argue that Luke is intentionally using the OT story of Samuel in 1 Sam 2 as the backdrop for his story of Jesus, and thus in an important way, the story and character of Samuel serve as an interpretive grid for how we are to understand Jesus--and that this in turn introduces a political element to Luke 2 that is not as obvious without due attention to the Samuel allusion.  At this point (though it has been turned in for a grade), I still consider the paper a rough draft, and I'm hoping to polish it this summer.  Here's the paper in its current form, for those who may be interested.  A better version, with footnotes and Greek fonts, can be downloaded &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.upsaid.com/files/joshuaseth/A_New_and_Greater_Samuel_(Rough_Draft).pdf&quot;&gt;here.&lt;/A&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A New and Greater Samuel: Luke 2:41-52&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is one of the unfortunate consequences of our culture’s assumed familiarity with the Christ’s infancy and childhood narratives that the story of Jesus with the teachers in the temple as a young boy is sometimes treated somewhat along the lines of stories one hears occasionally of twelve year olds receiving their bachelor’s degrees: an interesting example of the Christ-child’s inherent wisdom and maturity, and in that way, an attestation to his unique nature, but in the end, not much more.  However, when one considers how the OT story of the young Samuel (1 Sm 2:12-26) forms the textual backdrop for the Lk 2:41-52 narrative (specifically 2:52), layers of meaning in Luke’s narrative become clearer.  Indeed, there seem to be at least two purposes in Luke’s use of the OT, which may be summarized as “political” and “contextual.”   First, the evangelist alludes to the young Samuel in order to compare his redemptive-historical moment with that of Jesus in his gospel, that is, to imply that just as Samuel was a threat to and eventually supplanted the spiritual and political leadership of Eli and his line, so Jesus is a threat to and will eventually supplant the spiritual and political leadership of second temple Judaism.   Second, Luke alludes to Samuel to compare the person and roles that Samuel fills to the person and roles Jesus will fill—in this sense, Jesus is a new and greater Samuel—and this allusion thus serves the gospel’s ultimate purpose: to contextualize the early Christian church by showing the scope of the story of the redemptive purpose of God and calling its readers to renewed faithfulness to their ever faithful God.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The effect and import of this thesis is that it transforms a story that before primarily functioned to hint at Jesus’ future teaching and messianic identity into a not-so-subtle subversion of the leadership of Israel, both in the context of Jesus’ lifetime as well as the leadership structure that existed for Luke’s original audience.   In his allusion,  Luke also urges his reader to remember the work of Samuel and the change he brought, thus pointing to the faithfulness of God—for here is a greater Samuel, one who will complete the work Samuel began in a way that David never could. The end result of this for the Christian reader is the same as the original readers of Luke: a greater allegiance to Jesus as Lord and a deeper comfort in the faithfulness of God to his chosen people, the new Israel. [more...]&lt;br /&gt;A superficial reading of Luke’s description of Jesus in 2:52 (??? ?????? ?????????? ?? ?? ????? ??? ?????? ??? ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?????????) reveals that it is not a direct quotation of the LXX description of Samuel in 1 Sm 2:26 (??? ?? ????????? ??????? ????????? ??? ??????????? ??? ?????? ??? ???? ?????? ??? ???? ????????).  However, the repetition of key words (especially the ??????/??? and ???????? pattern) along with the broader thematic parallels in the first chapters of Luke and 1 Samuel, which include many corresponding events: a son born in unusual circumstances (i.e. to a virgin and a barren woman), the regular visits to the temple by Jesus and Samuel’s families (1 Sm 1:21, 2:19, Lk 2:41), Samuel and Jesus staying at the temple as young boys and impressing their elders (1 Sm 2:11, 18, 26, Lk 2:46-7), as well as numerous linguistic and thematic parallels between the Magnificat (Lk 1:46-55) and Hannah’s song (1 Sm 2:1-10) , it is clear that Luke alludes to the Samuel story in his account of the young Jesus.   Though Craig Evans writes that the allusion to Samuel is “subtle,” and “would be clear only to those knew their Old Testament stories well,”  if one accepts that Luke wrote his gospel at least in part to emphasize God’s continued faithfulness to his promises, it is not surprising that Luke would self-consciously and purposefully echo Old Testament narratives in his presentation of Christ.   Indeed, this kind of OT echo fits firmly in the Lucan pattern, for Luke, in contrast to Matthew, tends to avoid ‘proof text’ quotations, and, as Darrell Bock writes, instead “alludes to the [OT] text and uses its ideas rather than citing specific texts.”  Though the Samuel allusion may be subtle (though surely, not as subtle as some of Luke’s allusions!), it seems clear that the evangelist intend for his readers to see and grasp the connection between Jesus and the young Samuel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 Sm 2:26 falls in a pericope that begins after Hannah’s song in 2:12 and is clearly designed to contrast the faithfulness of the young boy Samuel with the failure of Eli and the unfaithfulness of his sons.  As Joseph Campbell succinctly puts it, 1 Sm 2:12-26 is “carefully organized to depict the future prophetic figure against a background that is in need of change.”  Though some scholars argue the pericope is better defined as 2:11-36, the point remains the same—Samuel and the Elides are implicitly contrasted thoughout.   The basic form for the contrast is two negative vignettes describing the Elides (2:12-17, 22-25) alongside one short positive story of Samuel (2:19-21a) and interspersed, significantly, with a series of repetitive refrains describing the growth of Samuel (2:11b, 2:18, 2:21b) that culminate in the statement of 2:26.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Authorial comment in 1 Sm 2:12a, “Now the sons of Eli were worthless men,” sets the tone for how the Elides are to be understood in this text.  In 2:13-17, the Elides are shown abusing their priestly role by eating more of the sacrificial meat than belonged to them, and eating it before the fat had burned away, actions which violated Levitical law (Lev 3:3-5, 7:30-34), and amounted to theft from the Lord.    In verses 2:22-25, the Elides begin to sin in another direction as they lie with women serving at the temple. Where before the sin of the Elides was primarily directed against the Lord, it is now turned toward the people of Israel; indeed, Eli rightly confronts his sons by saying to them, “I hear of your evil dealings from all the people” (2:23).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the space devoted in 1 Sm 2:11-26 to Samuel is significantly less than the Elides, it is obvious that, in contrast to the sons of Eli, Samuel is presented as a true priest of the Lord in both action and dress.  In 2:11 and 2:18, Samuel “ministers” to the Lord, forming an inclusio around the Elides’ robbery of the sacrificial meat.  Here the verb mesaret is used in a sacerdotal context; according to the word choice, clearly Samuel is being shown as a priest.   In 2:18, the young boy is described as “clothed with a linen ephod,” a distinctly priestly garment.   As the linen ephod was “not a child’s garment but a priest’s whether he be a youth or a full grown man,”  we might easily assume the Elides wore similar garments—the fact that only Samuel is described as wearing the garment underscores whom the text’s author believes to be the true priest.  The final distinction is perhaps the most subtle, but no less powerful.  As noted above, the author has taken pains to show the Elides’ sin against both God (2:12-17) and man (2:22-23); in contrast, the author particularly notes that Samuel “continued to grow both in stature and in favor with the LORD and also with man” (2:26).  Where the Elides are abusing their priestly role for their own gain, Samuel ministers to the Lord and wears the garments of a true priest.  Where the Elides incur the wrath of the people (2:23-24) and the Lord himself (2:25b), Samuel grows in favor with both the Lord and the people.  As Kyle McCarter puts it, “the good and the wicked, the chosen and the rejected are set before us in an almost simplistic juxtaposition.  We are [now] prepared for the fall of the house of Eli and, with equal certainty, for the corresponding rise in the fortunes of Samuel.”   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Similarly to 1 Sm 2:26, Lk 2:52 serves as a summing up of a pericope—one that begins in 2:41 and forms a narrative where Luke advances his audience’s understanding of Jesus in at least two distinct ways: as teacher and as son of God.   When Mary and Joseph discover their lost child in the courts of the temple in 2:46, Jesus is with the teachers not as a teacher himself, but engaged in their dialogue as would typify a devout young Hebrew.   What amazes those who heard Jesus was not the fact he interacted with the teachers, but the manner of his interaction, that is, “his understanding and his answers” (2:47), and this understanding is itself a foreshadowing of the power of Jesus’ future teaching.   The Christological nature of this passage is revealed in Jesus’ simple response to his mother: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (2:49)  Jesus’ explicit self-identification as the son of God is the central message of the pericope —these are Jesus’ first words in the evangelist’s account, and they speak to both his special identity as well as the locus of his mission being in the temple of his father.   In this context, 2:50, which records that Mary and Joseph “did not understand the saying that he spoke to them,” can only be regarded as a foreshadowing of the confusion of many in response to Jesus throughout the rest of his pre-resurrection life—for if even the parents of the young messiah do not understand his identity or mission, neither will the neutral bystander.   The pericope culminates in a summary statement in 2:26: “And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.”  Though the prominence here of the wisdom of the Christ-child may rise from the Isainic promise of a messiah figure in Isaiah 11:1-2,  as noted above, the near-echo of 1 Sam 2:26 brings the story of young Samuel firmly into view.  Indeed, it would seem that Luke invites his audience to understand that Jesus grew in wisdom and favor with God and man in much the same way as Samuel in the house of Eli.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if Luke is borrowing literary styles and themes from the life of the young Samuel in his gospel of Jesus, what is his purpose?  Though it is impossible to declare with complete certainty the evangelist’s intentions, I believe there are at least two viable implications of the allusion: by echoing the story of 1 Samuel 2 in Luke 2, Luke compares Jesus to Samuel’s moment in redemptive-history, adding a political undertone, as well as contextualizing the work of Jesus by casting him as a “new Samuel.”	&lt;br /&gt;It must be noted that Luke’s original audience would not only have understood the allusion to Samuel’s youth, but they would also have known the whole of Samuel’s life, including what was to come in 1 Sm 4 and beyond, when the Eli and their sons were destroyed and their authority given over to Samuel.  With this context in mind, it is not a stretch to imagine that Luke is preparing his audience for what is come in the rest of his gospel: a replacement of the current leadership of Israel with a new and permanent leader in Jesus.  Though there is no hint of comparison in Luke 2 between the wickedness of the Elides and the conduct of the teachers at the temple, there is certainly an implicit similarity in their situation.  It may be perhaps for no fault of their own, but Luke is hinting here to his readers that Jesus’ presence in the temple signals that the time of the authority of the temple leaders is over in the same way that Samuel signals the end for the Eli and his line—as the fortunes of Samuel and Jesus rise, the dynasties of Eli and the Jewish leaders will certainly fall.   This implicitly political tone of Luke’s allusion must not be missed: the shadow Samuel casts in Jesus’ childhood is dark, and its implicit judgment of the current leadership of Israel supports the prophecies of both Mary (Lk 1:51-52) and Simeon (Lk 2:34). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When considering the viability of viewing Jesus as a “new Samuel,” it is first necessary to consider the entire life of Samuel, and especially the way that Samuel functions as a priest, prophet and judge of Israel,  as well as the implied connections between Samuel and Moses in the OT.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though the original authorial intent of the 1 Sm 2:12-26 is certainly primarily to contrast Samuel with the Elides, the young boy is not presented here only as a foil to the wicked sons of Eli.  Indeed, the phrase “Samuel grew in the presence of the Lord” in 2:21 (lit. ‘with Yahweh,’) is eerily reminiscent of the description of Moses in Ex. 34:28.   The Samuel-Moses connection is also supported by explicit links between the two men in Jer. 15:1 and Ps. 99:6.   Additionally, in his farewell address in 1 Sam 12, Samuel seems to self-consciously compare the people of Israel at his time to the people under Moses, and thus himself to Moses:   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lord is my witness, who appointed Moses and Aaron and brought your fathers up out of the land of Egypt…when Jacob went into Egypt, and the Egyptians oppressed them, your fathers cried out to the LORD and the LORD sent Moses and Aaron who brought your fathers out of Egypt and made them dwell in this place…but they forgot the LORD their God.  And he sold them into the hand of Sisera, commander of the army of Hazor, and into the hand of the Philistines, and into the king of Moab…and they cried out to the LORD…and the LORD sent Jerubbaal and Barak and Jephthah and Samuel. (1 Sam 12:6-11)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with the connections to Moses, we must note the priestly, prophetic and judicial activities of Samuel.  Although Samuel was not a Levite, and did not pass on the priesthood to his sons, his early priestly activities in 1 Samuel 2 have already been discussed, and are continued in his sacrificial practice for the people of Israel in 1 Sm 7:9-10 and 9:13 and the new king Saul in 9:19-24.   Though Samuel is not a “classical priest,” he certainly functions as a “kind of” priest for Israel in a time of national transition after the destruction of the priestly line of Eli.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1 Sm 3, when the “word of the Lord was rare” (3:1), Samuel has an extensive vision (3:10-14), issues words of judgment to Eli (3:18), and by the end of the chapter is known by all of Israel as “a prophet of LORD” (3:20).  If the point of 1 Sm 2 is to portray Samuel as a new priest to replace the sons of Eli, 1 Sm 3 seems to be intended to show Samuel as a prophet.  Later in his life Samuel continues to function as a prophet, warning the people of Israel to avoid idols (1 Sm 7:3-4), proclaiming judgment on Saul for his wickedness (1 Sm 13, 15, 28) and interceding with God for the people (1 Sm 7:8-9, 12:19, 23).  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is also ample evidence for Samuel as a judge: he evidently traveled Israel in order to perform the duties of a judge (1 Sm 7:15-17) and made his sons judges after him (1 Sm 8:1-3).   Indeed, Samuel is the last in the line of judges, and when Israel demands a king (1 Sm 8), the office of the judge is ended and transmogrified into the office of the king.  The way that Samuel unites the offices of priest, prophet and judge are a convincing echo of Moses’ role for the people of Israel, and indeed, begin to hint at what Luke might have in mind by alluding to Samuel in his gospel of Jesus.  H. W. Hertzberg summarizes this point well: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Samuel] unites the priestly office with the prophetic vocation. He becomes the spiritual leader of his people, and that means that he receives a public, indeed a political status…By now, however, it is already clear that there has not been a man like him since the days of Moses.  Samuel should be regarded in this light.  Joshua was Moses’ successor, the ‘servant of God’. But he is never called a prophet, nor is he a priest.  Here is more than a Joshua.  Here, too, we have something more than the prophets of later times, who stood in the midst of the people as the spokesman of God, but in other respects were still on their periphery. Samuel unites in his person the three offices of the Christ who is to come, prophet, priest and king.  It is no wonder that the shadow of this particular figure falls over the ‘Books of Samuel’ which bear his name. Nor is it by chance that in the passage which describe the growth of the boy Jesus we find the same words which describe the growth of the young Samuel…the Bible regards [Samuel] as being to a special degree one of the forerunners of Christ, and does so with justification. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Hertzberg argues, after considering the three offices of Samuel, as well as his connection to Moses, the implications of Luke’s allusion to him in his description of Jesus become more clear: Jesus is the “new Samuel” who is greater than his fleshly precedent, and will complete the work Samuel began.  Where Samuel’s actions as a prophet, priest and judge for Israel were temporary and eventually rejected by the people of Israel, Jesus will forever unites the three offices and will never be rejected.   Indeed, just as Saul and eventually David are historical replacements for Samuel, Jesus is the new David who completes and fulfills the work of Samuel.  Understood in this way, the allusion serves Luke’s gospel purpose of showing the redemptive faithfulness of God by connecting the work of Jesus to his forerunner Samuel, as Samuel provides an “interpretive grid” to understand Jesus’ life and work through.  By noting the allusion to Samuel in Jesus’ life, Luke’s readers are encouraged to look forward to what they will find throughout Luke-Acts: the culmination of an ancient story of redemption wherein all the promises of God are fulfilled in the person and work of Christ and his church.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We return now to the original story: Jesus, as a boy stays behind at the temple and amazes all with his understanding and answers, then calmly assures Joseph and Mary that he must be in his father’s house, and finally, his growth in favor with God and man is stated.  There is much here on just the surface of this story—a picture of the wisdom of Jesus that will later be revealed, an implicit claim of his messianic identity, and a prediction of the confusion that will follow Jesus until (and even beyond) his resurrection.  But when the OT allusions are considered, and the interpretive grid of Samuel stands fully behind the story, we find in its words fuller meaning: an implicit political statement about the future of Israel and its leaders, as well as a revelation of the contextual history of the fulfillment of God’s promises and the consummation of all in Christ.  For Samuel was once the hinge on which the history of Israel turned, and here is a new and greater Samuel, one who will turn the history of world.   </description>
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			<content:encoded><![CDATA[The paper that I felt strongest about this semester, and likely put the most work into was an theological essay on Luke's use of allusion to Samuel in his story of Jesus in the temple in Luke 2.  In the essay I argue that Luke is intentionally using the OT story of Samuel in 1 Sam 2 as the backdrop for his story of Jesus, and thus in an important way, the story and character of Samuel serve as an interpretive grid for how we are to understand Jesus--and that this in turn introduces a political element to Luke 2 that is not as obvious without due attention to the Samuel allusion.  At this point (though it has been turned in for a grade), I still consider the paper a rough draft, and I'm hoping to polish it this summer.  Here's the paper in its current form, for those who may be interested.  A better version, with footnotes and Greek fonts, can be downloaded <A href="http://www.upsaid.com/files/joshuaseth/A_New_and_Greater_Samuel_(Rough_Draft).pdf">here.</A> <br /><br /><i>A New and Greater Samuel: Luke 2:41-52</i><br /><br />It is one of the unfortunate consequences of our culture’s assumed familiarity with the Christ’s infancy and childhood narratives that the story of Jesus with the teachers in the temple as a young boy is sometimes treated somewhat along the lines of stories one hears occasionally of twelve year olds receiving their bachelor’s degrees: an interesting example of the Christ-child’s inherent wisdom and maturity, and in that way, an attestation to his unique nature, but in the end, not much more.  However, when one considers how the OT story of the young Samuel (1 Sm 2:12-26) forms the textual backdrop for the Lk 2:41-52 narrative (specifically 2:52), layers of meaning in Luke’s narrative become clearer.  Indeed, there seem to be at least two purposes in Luke’s use of the OT, which may be summarized as “political” and “contextual.”   First, the evangelist alludes to the young Samuel in order to compare his redemptive-historical moment with that of Jesus in his gospel, that is, to imply that just as Samuel was a threat to and eventually supplanted the spiritual and political leadership of Eli and his line, so Jesus is a threat to and will eventually supplant the spiritual and political leadership of second temple Judaism.   Second, Luke alludes to Samuel to compare the person and roles that Samuel fills to the person and roles Jesus will fill—in this sense, Jesus is a new and greater Samuel—and this allusion thus serves the gospel’s ultimate purpose: to contextualize the early Christian church by showing the scope of the story of the redemptive purpose of God and calling its readers to renewed faithfulness to their ever faithful God.   <br /><br />The effect and import of this thesis is that it transforms a story that before primarily functioned to hint at Jesus’ future teaching and messianic identity into a not-so-subtle subversion of the leadership of Israel, both in the context of Jesus’ lifetime as well as the leadership structure that existed for Luke’s original audience.   In his allusion,  Luke also urges his reader to remember the work of Samuel and the change he brought, thus pointing to the faithfulness of God—for here is a greater Samuel, one who will complete the work Samuel began in a way that David never could. The end result of this for the Christian reader is the same as the original readers of Luke: a greater allegiance to Jesus as Lord and a deeper comfort in the faithfulness of God to his chosen people, the new Israel. [more...]<br />A superficial reading of Luke’s description of Jesus in 2:52 (??? ?????? ?????????? ?? ?? ????? ??? ?????? ??? ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?????????) reveals that it is not a direct quotation of the LXX description of Samuel in 1 Sm 2:26 (??? ?? ????????? ??????? ????????? ??? ??????????? ??? ?????? ??? ???? ?????? ??? ???? ????????).  However, the repetition of key words (especially the ??????/??? and ???????? pattern) along with the broader thematic parallels in the first chapters of Luke and 1 Samuel, which include many corresponding events: a son born in unusual circumstances (i.e. to a virgin and a barren woman), the regular visits to the temple by Jesus and Samuel’s families (1 Sm 1:21, 2:19, Lk 2:41), Samuel and Jesus staying at the temple as young boys and impressing their elders (1 Sm 2:11, 18, 26, Lk 2:46-7), as well as numerous linguistic and thematic parallels between the Magnificat (Lk 1:46-55) and Hannah’s song (1 Sm 2:1-10) , it is clear that Luke alludes to the Samuel story in his account of the young Jesus.   Though Craig Evans writes that the allusion to Samuel is “subtle,” and “would be clear only to those knew their Old Testament stories well,”  if one accepts that Luke wrote his gospel at least in part to emphasize God’s continued faithfulness to his promises, it is not surprising that Luke would self-consciously and purposefully echo Old Testament narratives in his presentation of Christ.   Indeed, this kind of OT echo fits firmly in the Lucan pattern, for Luke, in contrast to Matthew, tends to avoid ‘proof text’ quotations, and, as Darrell Bock writes, instead “alludes to the [OT] text and uses its ideas rather than citing specific texts.”  Though the Samuel allusion may be subtle (though surely, not as subtle as some of Luke’s allusions!), it seems clear that the evangelist intend for his readers to see and grasp the connection between Jesus and the young Samuel.<br /><br />1 Sm 2:26 falls in a pericope that begins after Hannah’s song in 2:12 and is clearly designed to contrast the faithfulness of the young boy Samuel with the failure of Eli and the unfaithfulness of his sons.  As Joseph Campbell succinctly puts it, 1 Sm 2:12-26 is “carefully organized to depict the future prophetic figure against a background that is in need of change.”  Though some scholars argue the pericope is better defined as 2:11-36, the point remains the same—Samuel and the Elides are implicitly contrasted thoughout.   The basic form for the contrast is two negative vignettes describing the Elides (2:12-17, 22-25) alongside one short positive story of Samuel (2:19-21a) and interspersed, significantly, with a series of repetitive refrains describing the growth of Samuel (2:11b, 2:18, 2:21b) that culminate in the statement of 2:26.  <br /><br />Authorial comment in 1 Sm 2:12a, “Now the sons of Eli were worthless men,” sets the tone for how the Elides are to be understood in this text.  In 2:13-17, the Elides are shown abusing their priestly role by eating more of the sacrificial meat than belonged to them, and eating it before the fat had burned away, actions which violated Levitical law (Lev 3:3-5, 7:30-34), and amounted to theft from the Lord.    In verses 2:22-25, the Elides begin to sin in another direction as they lie with women serving at the temple. Where before the sin of the Elides was primarily directed against the Lord, it is now turned toward the people of Israel; indeed, Eli rightly confronts his sons by saying to them, “I hear of your evil dealings from all the people” (2:23).  <br /><br />Though the space devoted in 1 Sm 2:11-26 to Samuel is significantly less than the Elides, it is obvious that, in contrast to the sons of Eli, Samuel is presented as a true priest of the Lord in both action and dress.  In 2:11 and 2:18, Samuel “ministers” to the Lord, forming an inclusio around the Elides’ robbery of the sacrificial meat.  Here the verb mesaret is used in a sacerdotal context; according to the word choice, clearly Samuel is being shown as a priest.   In 2:18, the young boy is described as “clothed with a linen ephod,” a distinctly priestly garment.   As the linen ephod was “not a child’s garment but a priest’s whether he be a youth or a full grown man,”  we might easily assume the Elides wore similar garments—the fact that only Samuel is described as wearing the garment underscores whom the text’s author believes to be the true priest.  The final distinction is perhaps the most subtle, but no less powerful.  As noted above, the author has taken pains to show the Elides’ sin against both God (2:12-17) and man (2:22-23); in contrast, the author particularly notes that Samuel “continued to grow both in stature and in favor with the LORD and also with man” (2:26).  Where the Elides are abusing their priestly role for their own gain, Samuel ministers to the Lord and wears the garments of a true priest.  Where the Elides incur the wrath of the people (2:23-24) and the Lord himself (2:25b), Samuel grows in favor with both the Lord and the people.  As Kyle McCarter puts it, “the good and the wicked, the chosen and the rejected are set before us in an almost simplistic juxtaposition.  We are [now] prepared for the fall of the house of Eli and, with equal certainty, for the corresponding rise in the fortunes of Samuel.”   <br /><br />Similarly to 1 Sm 2:26, Lk 2:52 serves as a summing up of a pericope—one that begins in 2:41 and forms a narrative where Luke advances his audience’s understanding of Jesus in at least two distinct ways: as teacher and as son of God.   When Mary and Joseph discover their lost child in the courts of the temple in 2:46, Jesus is with the teachers not as a teacher himself, but engaged in their dialogue as would typify a devout young Hebrew.   What amazes those who heard Jesus was not the fact he interacted with the teachers, but the manner of his interaction, that is, “his understanding and his answers” (2:47), and this understanding is itself a foreshadowing of the power of Jesus’ future teaching.   The Christological nature of this passage is revealed in Jesus’ simple response to his mother: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (2:49)  Jesus’ explicit self-identification as the son of God is the central message of the pericope —these are Jesus’ first words in the evangelist’s account, and they speak to both his special identity as well as the locus of his mission being in the temple of his father.   In this context, 2:50, which records that Mary and Joseph “did not understand the saying that he spoke to them,” can only be regarded as a foreshadowing of the confusion of many in response to Jesus throughout the rest of his pre-resurrection life—for if even the parents of the young messiah do not understand his identity or mission, neither will the neutral bystander.   The pericope culminates in a summary statement in 2:26: “And Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.”  Though the prominence here of the wisdom of the Christ-child may rise from the Isainic promise of a messiah figure in Isaiah 11:1-2,  as noted above, the near-echo of 1 Sam 2:26 brings the story of young Samuel firmly into view.  Indeed, it would seem that Luke invites his audience to understand that Jesus grew in wisdom and favor with God and man in much the same way as Samuel in the house of Eli.  <br /><br />But if Luke is borrowing literary styles and themes from the life of the young Samuel in his gospel of Jesus, what is his purpose?  Though it is impossible to declare with complete certainty the evangelist’s intentions, I believe there are at least two viable implications of the allusion: by echoing the story of 1 Samuel 2 in Luke 2, Luke compares Jesus to Samuel’s moment in redemptive-history, adding a political undertone, as well as contextualizing the work of Jesus by casting him as a “new Samuel.”	<br />It must be noted that Luke’s original audience would not only have understood the allusion to Samuel’s youth, but they would also have known the whole of Samuel’s life, including what was to come in 1 Sm 4 and beyond, when the Eli and their sons were destroyed and their authority given over to Samuel.  With this context in mind, it is not a stretch to imagine that Luke is preparing his audience for what is come in the rest of his gospel: a replacement of the current leadership of Israel with a new and permanent leader in Jesus.  Though there is no hint of comparison in Luke 2 between the wickedness of the Elides and the conduct of the teachers at the temple, there is certainly an implicit similarity in their situation.  It may be perhaps for no fault of their own, but Luke is hinting here to his readers that Jesus’ presence in the temple signals that the time of the authority of the temple leaders is over in the same way that Samuel signals the end for the Eli and his line—as the fortunes of Samuel and Jesus rise, the dynasties of Eli and the Jewish leaders will certainly fall.   This implicitly political tone of Luke’s allusion must not be missed: the shadow Samuel casts in Jesus’ childhood is dark, and its implicit judgment of the current leadership of Israel supports the prophecies of both Mary (Lk 1:51-52) and Simeon (Lk 2:34). <br /><br />When considering the viability of viewing Jesus as a “new Samuel,” it is first necessary to consider the entire life of Samuel, and especially the way that Samuel functions as a priest, prophet and judge of Israel,  as well as the implied connections between Samuel and Moses in the OT.   <br /><br />Though the original authorial intent of the 1 Sm 2:12-26 is certainly primarily to contrast Samuel with the Elides, the young boy is not presented here only as a foil to the wicked sons of Eli.  Indeed, the phrase “Samuel grew in the presence of the Lord” in 2:21 (lit. ‘with Yahweh,’) is eerily reminiscent of the description of Moses in Ex. 34:28.   The Samuel-Moses connection is also supported by explicit links between the two men in Jer. 15:1 and Ps. 99:6.   Additionally, in his farewell address in 1 Sam 12, Samuel seems to self-consciously compare the people of Israel at his time to the people under Moses, and thus himself to Moses:   <br /><br />The Lord is my witness, who appointed Moses and Aaron and brought your fathers up out of the land of Egypt…when Jacob went into Egypt, and the Egyptians oppressed them, your fathers cried out to the LORD and the LORD sent Moses and Aaron who brought your fathers out of Egypt and made them dwell in this place…but they forgot the LORD their God.  And he sold them into the hand of Sisera, commander of the army of Hazor, and into the hand of the Philistines, and into the king of Moab…and they cried out to the LORD…and the LORD sent Jerubbaal and Barak and Jephthah and Samuel. (1 Sam 12:6-11)<br /><br />Along with the connections to Moses, we must note the priestly, prophetic and judicial activities of Samuel.  Although Samuel was not a Levite, and did not pass on the priesthood to his sons, his early priestly activities in 1 Samuel 2 have already been discussed, and are continued in his sacrificial practice for the people of Israel in 1 Sm 7:9-10 and 9:13 and the new king Saul in 9:19-24.   Though Samuel is not a “classical priest,” he certainly functions as a “kind of” priest for Israel in a time of national transition after the destruction of the priestly line of Eli.   <br /><br />In 1 Sm 3, when the “word of the Lord was rare” (3:1), Samuel has an extensive vision (3:10-14), issues words of judgment to Eli (3:18), and by the end of the chapter is known by all of Israel as “a prophet of LORD” (3:20).  If the point of 1 Sm 2 is to portray Samuel as a new priest to replace the sons of Eli, 1 Sm 3 seems to be intended to show Samuel as a prophet.  Later in his life Samuel continues to function as a prophet, warning the people of Israel to avoid idols (1 Sm 7:3-4), proclaiming judgment on Saul for his wickedness (1 Sm 13, 15, 28) and interceding with God for the people (1 Sm 7:8-9, 12:19, 23).  <br /><br />There is also ample evidence for Samuel as a judge: he evidently traveled Israel in order to perform the duties of a judge (1 Sm 7:15-17) and made his sons judges after him (1 Sm 8:1-3).   Indeed, Samuel is the last in the line of judges, and when Israel demands a king (1 Sm 8), the office of the judge is ended and transmogrified into the office of the king.  The way that Samuel unites the offices of priest, prophet and judge are a convincing echo of Moses’ role for the people of Israel, and indeed, begin to hint at what Luke might have in mind by alluding to Samuel in his gospel of Jesus.  H. W. Hertzberg summarizes this point well: <br /><br />[Samuel] unites the priestly office with the prophetic vocation. He becomes the spiritual leader of his people, and that means that he receives a public, indeed a political status…By now, however, it is already clear that there has not been a man like him since the days of Moses.  Samuel should be regarded in this light.  Joshua was Moses’ successor, the ‘servant of God’. But he is never called a prophet, nor is he a priest.  Here is more than a Joshua.  Here, too, we have something more than the prophets of later times, who stood in the midst of the people as the spokesman of God, but in other respects were still on their periphery. Samuel unites in his person the three offices of the Christ who is to come, prophet, priest and king.  It is no wonder that the shadow of this particular figure falls over the ‘Books of Samuel’ which bear his name. Nor is it by chance that in the passage which describe the growth of the boy Jesus we find the same words which describe the growth of the young Samuel…the Bible regards [Samuel] as being to a special degree one of the forerunners of Christ, and does so with justification. <br /><br />As Hertzberg argues, after considering the three offices of Samuel, as well as his connection to Moses, the implications of Luke’s allusion to him in his description of Jesus become more clear: Jesus is the “new Samuel” who is greater than his fleshly precedent, and will complete the work Samuel began.  Where Samuel’s actions as a prophet, priest and judge for Israel were temporary and eventually rejected by the people of Israel, Jesus will forever unites the three offices and will never be rejected.   Indeed, just as Saul and eventually David are historical replacements for Samuel, Jesus is the new David who completes and fulfills the work of Samuel.  Understood in this way, the allusion serves Luke’s gospel purpose of showing the redemptive faithfulness of God by connecting the work of Jesus to his forerunner Samuel, as Samuel provides an “interpretive grid” to understand Jesus’ life and work through.  By noting the allusion to Samuel in Jesus’ life, Luke’s readers are encouraged to look forward to what they will find throughout Luke-Acts: the culmination of an ancient story of redemption wherein all the promises of God are fulfilled in the person and work of Christ and his church.  <br /><br />We return now to the original story: Jesus, as a boy stays behind at the temple and amazes all with his understanding and answers, then calmly assures Joseph and Mary that he must be in his father’s house, and finally, his growth in favor with God and man is stated.  There is much here on just the surface of this story—a picture of the wisdom of Jesus that will later be revealed, an implicit claim of his messianic identity, and a prediction of the confusion that will follow Jesus until (and even beyond) his resurrection.  But when the OT allusions are considered, and the interpretive grid of Samuel stands fully behind the story, we find in its words fuller meaning: an implicit political statement about the future of Israel and its leaders, as well as a revelation of the contextual history of the fulfillment of God’s promises and the consummation of all in Christ.  For Samuel was once the hinge on which the history of Israel turned, and here is a new and greater Samuel, one who will turn the history of world.   ]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>Joshua Seth Anderson</dc:creator>
			<dc:date>2005-06-08T23:41:44-04:00</dc:date>
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			<title>Spring/Summer </title>
			<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=72</link>
			<description>I don't know where the spring has gone.  I was in library somewhere, and suddenly it became summer.  Luckily it'll probably only be 90 and humid for about 3 or 4 more months.  The doctors tell us that the baby in Ami's belly is both growing and healthy, so everything is right with the world, as far as I'm concerned.  Plus the Cards are in first and the Cubs have half their team on the DL.  The only hint I'm allowed to give about our son's name is that it is neither Jay Hannah Dean Anderson nor Robert Edward Lee Anderson.  Anything else is fair game.  After the hubbub of the semester, life is now quiet and filled mostly with the sounds of Mike Shannon on the radio, afternoons reading books I wished I'd read before now and, in the evenings, movies Ami and I haven't watched in the past year.  Some of that will change when Hebrew begins on Monday, but in general, the summer promises far more lazy days than the school year, which actually didn't really have any at all.   Life is good: we have books to read and languages to learn, cardinals games to listen and go to, plenty of friends and now, time to spend with them, a church to worship with, and, of course, a son on the way.  I do miss Virginia, but it seems the good life has followed us here.  God be praised.   </description>
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			<content:encoded><![CDATA[I don't know where the spring has gone.  I was in library somewhere, and suddenly it became summer.  Luckily it'll probably only be 90 and humid for about 3 or 4 more months.  The doctors tell us that the baby in Ami's belly is both growing and healthy, so everything is right with the world, as far as I'm concerned.  Plus the Cards are in first and the Cubs have half their team on the DL.  The only hint I'm allowed to give about our son's name is that it is neither Jay Hannah Dean Anderson nor Robert Edward Lee Anderson.  Anything else is fair game.  After the hubbub of the semester, life is now quiet and filled mostly with the sounds of Mike Shannon on the radio, afternoons reading books I wished I'd read before now and, in the evenings, movies Ami and I haven't watched in the past year.  Some of that will change when Hebrew begins on Monday, but in general, the summer promises far more lazy days than the school year, which actually didn't really have any at all.   Life is good: we have books to read and languages to learn, cardinals games to listen and go to, plenty of friends and now, time to spend with them, a church to worship with, and, of course, a son on the way.  I do miss Virginia, but it seems the good life has followed us here.  God be praised.   ]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>Joshua Seth Anderson</dc:creator>
			<dc:date>2005-06-04T13:16:20-04:00</dc:date>
			<slash:comments>3</slash:comments>
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			<title>Reading report: 1st half of Spring 2005</title>
			<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=71</link>
			<description>Books I've read in the last two months or so:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ann Beattie,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0679731946/qid=1111857570/sr=1-9/ref=sr_1_9/002-1439247-0913656?v=glance&amp;s=books&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Picturing Will&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  I first heard Ann Beattie  at UVA when she read a short story at a shared reading with Charles Wright.  I had gone to hear Charles, but enjoyed Beattie enough to start collecting her books whenever I saw them at used bookstores or library sales.  I'm glad that I finally got around to reading one of them--alternately sad and funny, Picturing Will is simply a well-written story of the prototypical postmodern family.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kent Haruf,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0375705856/qid=1111858280/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Plainsong&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.   Very enjoyable novel about the deep relational waters of a small town in Colorado.  Convincing, and ultimately, redemptive in a way that Ann Beattie couldn't be.  I used a story from Plainsong in my recent sermon, and it seemed to go over well.  Highly recommended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ann Beattie,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/067973192X/qid=1111858534/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Falling in Place&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  An almost unbearably cynical picture of American life in the 1980's--but perhaps the cyncism is well-deserved.  Beattie is simply a great writer--wonderful dialogue, well shaped characters, and utterly real-to-life.  I don't like the world she describes, but it is undeniably real.  All the confusion and pleasure and hollowness of modern pagan life.  Above everything, I was struck by the loneliness of her characters, and the failures of their various quests to assuage that loneliness--something I'm certainly familiar with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frank Schaeffer,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0425157768/qid=1111858959/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Saving Grandma&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  As with the two other books in this trilogy, heartbreakingly funny and moving.  These three books are probably the best modern &quot;christian&quot; novels that I have read.  Especially if you are a presbyterian, you must read them.  If Mark Twain had been reformed and lived in the late 20th century, these are the novels he would have written.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, on to school books...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N.T. Wright,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0800626826/qid=1111859291/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Jesus the and Victory of God&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  Best book I've read in seminary so far.  Whatever theological quarrels one might have with Wright, his historical work on the context and life of Christ is enormously helpful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robert Stein,   &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0664255132/qid=1111859567/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/002-1439247-0913656?v=glance&amp;s=books&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Method and Message of Jesus' Teaching&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  Helpful introduction to the topic described in the title.  Used in same class (Gospels) as N.T. Wright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craig Blomberg, &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0830812717/qid=1111860070/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Interpreting the Parables.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt; Blomberg's basic thesis is that while there is a history of over allegorizing the parables of Jesus, his parables are still basically allegories, and have more than one meaning.  Also provides tools on how to interpret specific parables.  Very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Frame,   &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0875522424/qid=1111859676/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Worship in Spirit and Truth&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  Helpful book on worship with Frame's usual provactive insights.  I had some problems with his fundamental stance toward worship, but in general, a helpful book.  I wrote a fuller review  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=65&quot;&gt;here.&lt;/A&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;F.F. Bruce,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/1592446191/qid=1111859876/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/002-1439247-0913656?v=glance&amp;s=books&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;New Testament Development of Old Testament Themes.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt; Helpful book on reading the OT/NT.   Very good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christopher Wright,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0830816933/qid=1111859985/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Knowing Jesus Through the Old Testament&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt;.  Also good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Herman Bavinck,    &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0801026555/qid=1111860245/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Reformed Dogmatics: God and Creation.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/A&gt; The first systematic theology I've read.  Logical prescision with personality.  The translation is wonderful.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clark Pinnock, et al,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0830818529/qid=1111860417/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Openness of God&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/A&gt; I first read this book as an 18 year-old in Northern Ireland when I was working with Youth With a Mission, and then found it very helpful in explaining some of the inconsistencies in my latent Arminianism.  Now I'm reading it from a Calvinistic perspective, and obviously seeing a lot more flaws in Pinnock's arguments.  My paper interacting with the book can be found  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=69&quot;&gt;here. &lt;/A&gt;.  Basically, I think Pinnock scores some points against classical theism, but is ultimately unhelpful and on a heretical trajectory. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Frame,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0875521851/qid=1111860677/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;No Other God&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/A&gt; I read this book to help me understand openness thought for my paper.  Frame is very sharp in his critique of Pinnock, and also engages in some positive forays into what openness thought might teach us reformed people.  Great book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack Collins,  &lt;A href=&quot;http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1581344309/qid=1111860819/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656&quot;&gt;&lt;i&gt;Science and Faith&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/A&gt; Textbook for a class with the same title and taught by the author.  Great book--very highly recommended.  Dr. Collins has certainly caused a paradigm-shift in my own thinking about these topics.  </description>
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			<content:encoded><![CDATA[Books I've read in the last two months or so:<br /><br />Ann Beattie,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0679731946/qid=1111857570/sr=1-9/ref=sr_1_9/002-1439247-0913656?v=glance&s=books"><i>Picturing Will</i></A>.  I first heard Ann Beattie  at UVA when she read a short story at a shared reading with Charles Wright.  I had gone to hear Charles, but enjoyed Beattie enough to start collecting her books whenever I saw them at used bookstores or library sales.  I'm glad that I finally got around to reading one of them--alternately sad and funny, Picturing Will is simply a well-written story of the prototypical postmodern family.  <br /><br />Kent Haruf,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0375705856/qid=1111858280/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Plainsong</i></A>.   Very enjoyable novel about the deep relational waters of a small town in Colorado.  Convincing, and ultimately, redemptive in a way that Ann Beattie couldn't be.  I used a story from Plainsong in my recent sermon, and it seemed to go over well.  Highly recommended.<br /><br />Ann Beattie,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/067973192X/qid=1111858534/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Falling in Place</i></A>.  An almost unbearably cynical picture of American life in the 1980's--but perhaps the cyncism is well-deserved.  Beattie is simply a great writer--wonderful dialogue, well shaped characters, and utterly real-to-life.  I don't like the world she describes, but it is undeniably real.  All the confusion and pleasure and hollowness of modern pagan life.  Above everything, I was struck by the loneliness of her characters, and the failures of their various quests to assuage that loneliness--something I'm certainly familiar with.<br /><br />Frank Schaeffer,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0425157768/qid=1111858959/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Saving Grandma</i></A>.  As with the two other books in this trilogy, heartbreakingly funny and moving.  These three books are probably the best modern "christian" novels that I have read.  Especially if you are a presbyterian, you must read them.  If Mark Twain had been reformed and lived in the late 20th century, these are the novels he would have written.  <br /><br />Now, on to school books...<br /><br />N.T. Wright,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0800626826/qid=1111859291/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Jesus the and Victory of God</i></A>.  Best book I've read in seminary so far.  Whatever theological quarrels one might have with Wright, his historical work on the context and life of Christ is enormously helpful.<br /><br />Robert Stein,   <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0664255132/qid=1111859567/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/002-1439247-0913656?v=glance&s=books"><i>Method and Message of Jesus' Teaching</i></A>.  Helpful introduction to the topic described in the title.  Used in same class (Gospels) as N.T. Wright.<br /><br />Craig Blomberg, <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0830812717/qid=1111860070/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Interpreting the Parables.</i></A> Blomberg's basic thesis is that while there is a history of over allegorizing the parables of Jesus, his parables are still basically allegories, and have more than one meaning.  Also provides tools on how to interpret specific parables.  Very good.<br /><br />John Frame,   <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0875522424/qid=1111859676/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Worship in Spirit and Truth</i></A>.  Helpful book on worship with Frame's usual provactive insights.  I had some problems with his fundamental stance toward worship, but in general, a helpful book.  I wrote a fuller review  <A href="http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&id=65">here.</A> <br /><br />F.F. Bruce,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/1592446191/qid=1111859876/sr=1-1/ref=sr_1_1/002-1439247-0913656?v=glance&s=books"><i>New Testament Development of Old Testament Themes.</i></A> Helpful book on reading the OT/NT.   Very good.<br /><br />Christopher Wright,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0830816933/qid=1111859985/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Knowing Jesus Through the Old Testament</i></A>.  Also good.<br /><br />Herman Bavinck,    <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0801026555/qid=1111860245/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Reformed Dogmatics: God and Creation.</i></A> The first systematic theology I've read.  Logical prescision with personality.  The translation is wonderful.  <br /><br />Clark Pinnock, et al,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0830818529/qid=1111860417/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Openness of God</i>.</A> I first read this book as an 18 year-old in Northern Ireland when I was working with Youth With a Mission, and then found it very helpful in explaining some of the inconsistencies in my latent Arminianism.  Now I'm reading it from a Calvinistic perspective, and obviously seeing a lot more flaws in Pinnock's arguments.  My paper interacting with the book can be found  <A href="http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&id=69">here. </A>.  Basically, I think Pinnock scores some points against classical theism, but is ultimately unhelpful and on a heretical trajectory. <br /><br />John Frame,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0875521851/qid=1111860677/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>No Other God</i>.</A> I read this book to help me understand openness thought for my paper.  Frame is very sharp in his critique of Pinnock, and also engages in some positive forays into what openness thought might teach us reformed people.  Great book.<br /><br />Jack Collins,  <A href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1581344309/qid=1111860819/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-1439247-0913656"><i>Science and Faith</i>.</A> Textbook for a class with the same title and taught by the author.  Great book--very highly recommended.  Dr. Collins has certainly caused a paradigm-shift in my own thinking about these topics.  ]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>Joshua Seth Anderson</dc:creator>
			<dc:date>2005-03-26T14:15:58-04:00</dc:date>
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			<title>God is greater than our hearts</title>
			<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=70</link>
			<description>Sermon #2, from 1 John 3:18-22. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Announce Text]  Please turn with me to 1 John 3:18-22&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Scripture Introduction] Christians are a people who are always constantly aware of a great divide in their lives—the divide which separates the way in which we know we ought to live, and the sin which plagues us.  Because we know God, we know his standard for living, and we are often convicted by the hypocrisy of our actions and thoughts.  Many times, this kind of awareness can lead us doubt whether or not we belong to the people of God after all, whether or not Jesus has actually redeemed us.  But friends, God knows the nature of our hearts.  Here, in 1 John 3, God speaks through the apostle John to people just like you, and the words he speaks are words of life…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Re-Announce and Read Text]  Read with me please from 1 John 3:18-22…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Prayer for Illumination] Let’s pray…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Introduction] Sometimes the feelings of doubt and anger were too much to bear. Every day had been blur for Anne ever since the morning when she had taken her small son Jack in for what seemed a normal case of the flu at the doctor’s office and slowly everything had unraveled.  First there had been tests, and then prescriptions, until the doctors finally realized that was wrong with Jack in the first place hadn’t been the flu at all, but the first stages of a disease that might take his life, and would certainly keep him from ever living normally.  Anne wasn’t exactly sure when she had started slipping, but she knew that now anger was always with her, that there were times when she would be driving home from somewhere and glance back at Jack sleeping in the carseat and the bitterness and hatred at the God who she thought cared for her would swell up until she had to pull over for a while.  Why should this have happened to her? Why Jack? There were so many children in the world, so many mothers with more than one, why did God have to take her only son from her? What had she done?  What hadn’t she done?  She longed to assure her heart, but there was no assurance to be found. And before long, as the days went by, her anger turned to doubt and doubt to condemnation.  Would someone who was really a part of God’s family get this angry with God?  Had God really covenanted with her? Would a real Christian curse at the sky or skip church, or stop praying?  Before long she began to think that this all was probably God’s judgment on her heart—he had known how false she had always been, and this was her punishment.  [more...]Though Anne’s story is a dramatic one, it is also a bit too close for comfort.  All of us, if we’re honest, will confess that there have been times when we have wondered if we too are really “of the truth,” as John puts it, and have sought to assure our hearts, but wondered how [FCF].  Sometimes our doubt, like Anne’s, is borne out of suffering—when we struggle physically, financially, or relationally, it quickly lead to doubting whether or not we are truly borne of God.  Sometimes our lack of assurance comes because of our sin—whether some deep, dark sin in our past, or simply a constant feeling of failure in our everyday lives.  We wonder how God could covenant with someone such as us.  Ultimately though, many of us struggle with doubt and lack of assurance not for any particular reason, but simply because we must believe in what we cannot see—the simple fact is, the hope which we have been given has yet to be fulfilled.  It is precisely for this reason that John writes his epistle—the church that he writes to has been beset with false teaching and division, and the false teachers have been challenging the assurance of the believers that John writes to—and in Chapter 3, John comforts the believers and tells that they must assure their hearts before God [Scripture Bond].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Proposition] Since God covenants with us, we must assure our hearts before him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But how do we know that God covenants with us, and why shall we assure our hearts before him?  What reason does John give for confidence before God?  Here John does not point his readers inwardly toward meditating on the authenticity of their subjective feelings of God’s love or encourage them to seek an “new experience” of God, but rather he points toward clear and objective reasons for these doubting readers to be sure of their status before God. In turn, John shows us that we can know God covenants with us and assure our hearts before him because God compels our obedience to his word, God keeps his promises to us, and ultimately, because God is greater than our hearts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Main Point #1] Since God compels our obedience to his word, we must assure our hearts before him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John shows the central thrust of our passage in verse 19 when he writes, “By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our hearts before him.”  But what is the “by this” (en touto) that John refers to?  Commentators agree that it is likely that John is &lt;br /&gt;both pointing to the argument in verse 18, as well as pointing forward to verses 20-22.  So let’s look at verse 18 to see the first way clear way that John says we shall know that we are of the truth.  “Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” Here John is making a simple argument—we should know that we are of the truth when God works in us and we love others in deeds and in truth.  Don’t hear what John is not saying here—he is not in any sense arguing that we somehow earn our confidence before God by our obedience to God ’s command to love others.  Rather he is responding to the question, “How can I tell that I am one of God’s children?” with the simple answer, “Because you act like one of God’s children.” The obedience in our lives to God’s law is not at all done to earn his favor.  Rather it is a simple reflection of who we are, and who the Holy Spirit is making us to be.   Also important to see is John’s emphasis on actions, in contrast to loving feelings—the question to ask is not “do I feel loving,” but, “do I act lovingly toward (in this context) my brothers in Christ.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Illustration] Now, in the Hundred Acre Wood, there lives a bear of not much brain called Winnie-the-Pooh.  Perhaps you’ve heard of him.  Winnie’s best friend is called Piglet, and you can guess what sort of animal he is.  If you’ve read these stories, you’ll know that where Pooh hasn’t much brain, Piglet hasn’t much courage, as we’ll soon see. Now one day, Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet were taking walk in the forest, and suddenly they see something strange, and try to discover what this strange thing is, which is where we’ll pick up their story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Look, Pooh!” said Piglet suddenly.  “There’s something in one of the Pine Trees.” “So &lt;br /&gt;there is!” said Pooh, looking up wonderingly. “There’s an Animal.” Piglet took Pooh’s arm, in case Pooh was frightened. “Is it One of the Fiercer Animals?” he said, looking the other way. Pooh nodded.  “It’s a Jagular,” he said.  “What do Jagulars do?” asked Piglet, hoping that they wouldn’t.  “They hide in the branches of trees, and drop on you as you go underneath,” said Pooh.  “Christopher Robin told me.” “Perhaps we better hadn’t go underneath, Pooh. In case he dropped and hurt himself.”  “They don’t hurt themselves,” said Pooh.  “They’re such very good droppers.” Piglet still felt that to be underneath a Very Good Dropper would be a Mistake, and he was just going to hurry back for something which he had forgotten when the Jagular called out to them.  “Help! Help!” it called.  “That’s what Jagulars always do,” said Pooh, much interested. “They call ‘Help! Help!’ and then when you look up, they drop on you.”  “I’m looking down,” cried Piglet loudly, so as the Jagular shouldn’t do the wrong thing by accident.  Something very excited next to the Jagular heard him, and squeaked: “Pooh and Piglet! Pooh and Piglet!” …“Pooh!” [Piglet] cried.  “I believe it’s Tigger and Roo!” “So it is,” said Pooh.  “I thought it was a Jagular and another Jagular.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You may not believe me, but hidden in this simple and funny story is a significant epistemological, and ultimately, spiritual truth, which is: one way we can know what something is how that something acts.  Pooh claims the wild animals are Jagulars because they act like a Jagular should: namely, sitting in trees and calling “Help!” in order to drop on people. Piglet counters that really the animals are acting like Tigger and Roo would if they were stuck in a tree and couldn’t get down—and soon Pooh sees that he is right.  Brothers, this is exactly what John to us: since we are acting like God’s children, since God compels our obedience to his word, we can know we are of the truth, and assure our hearts before him.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Application] This simple truth, that we know we are God’s children because of our obedience to his word, should affect our behavior in various ways.  First it should motivate us to love those God has placed in our lives in our actions.  In verse 16, John shows that this means laying down our lives for others—It means fairly easy things like with serving our friends and classmates by giving up a parking space to another or studying with someone when it helps them more than ourselves.  But it also means more difficult things like self-sacrificially giving to those in need, speaking a word of difficult truth into a friend’s life or controlling our quick temper with our family members.  But the truth that “since God compels our obedience, we must assure our hearts” should do more than change our actions.  It should also change our attitude toward our own obedience.  Many people doubt the validity of their loving actions toward others if there is any element of self-interest in their actions, if their actions are motivated by anything but pure love.  But here we see that obeying God’s commands to love our wives or friends because we love them and because we seek assurance for our standing before God are not necessarily mutually exclusive motivations.  Listen to how our Westminster Confession speaks of Good Works.  “Good works, done in obedience to God’s commandments, are the fruits and evidences of a true and lively faith: and by them believers manifest their thankfulness, strengthen their assurance, edify their brethren, adorn the profession of the gospel, stop the mouths of the adversaries, and glorify God.”    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friends, I think that sometimes in our Reformed heritage we are so afraid of anything that might sound like “works-righteousness” that we deprive ourselves of a right assurance of our standing before God based on our good works.  For finding confidence for our standing before God in our good fruit and works is not only thoroughly biblical and confessional—it is a profound acknowledgement that our God is alive and powerful, and that his work in our lives will always make a difference in our actions.  Friends, if we deny that our obedience is a valid basis for assurance, we do more than weaken our confidence—we deny the power of the living and risen Christ and strike at the heart of the gospel itself.  If our good works tell us nothing of Christ’s presence in our lives, then what does that say about Christ?  At best, it makes him incidental, and at worst he is impotent. But our Christ is not incidental, and he is not impotent—our Christ makes the blind to see, the lame to walk, the dead to rise, and makes even a sinner like me love his wife and brothers! And when he works in our lives and compels our obedience to God’s word, what can we do but wonder at his power and find comfort in his assurance that we are indeed his, and no one can take us from him?  Friends, we must strive to obey God better, but we must strive to change our attitude toward our obedience.  For you see, finding assurance in good works is actually the opposite of works-righteousness—it is an acknowledgement of our desperate need for Christ, and the total life-change he brings when he brings us into submission to his rule.  Truly, since God compels our obedience to his word, we must assure our hearts before him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Main Point #2] Since God keeps his promises to us, we must assure our hearts before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In verse 21 and 22, we find the second great way that we may know we are of the truth and that YHWH covenants with us—that is, that God keeps his promises to us.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Question] What kind of promises?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Subpoint #1] The promise of provision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brothers, what a great and glorious promise is found in verse 22.  “Whatever we ask we receive from him, because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him.”  Now John’s thrust in this verse is not something along the lines of a prosperity gospel—he is not saying that God is some kind of cosmic vending machine that will deliver whatever we ask simply because we hit the right button.  Rather, John is emphasizing the covenant relationship and covenant blessings that followers of Christ experience when God is their covenant lord.  Basically, what John is saying is this—we may know that we are of the truth because our lives display the markings of one in covenant with God—we do things which please him, loving in deed and in truth, and in response, God provides for our needs.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Illustration] In Kent Haruf’s novel, Plainsong, the story focuses on a girl called Victoria, a pregnant teenager in a small rural town in Colorado.  Victoria’s boyfriend has disappeared, and her mother has kicked her out of the house because of her pregnancy, so Victoria lives with a teacher for a while, but soon she has to find a new place to stay.   With more than a little convincing from the teacher, two old bachelor brothers named Harold and Raymond allow Victoria to move in with them.  Harold and Raymond are cattle farmers, and they’ve lived alone for their entire lives since their parents died.  So obviously there is a period of adjustment when Victoria first moves in, and no matter how well the brothers treat her, she doesn’t feel like she belongs out with them, and they don’t really know how to talk to her—on her days off from school she sleeps all morning, and they eat their meals in silence.  But slowly the brothers start to reach out to Victoria, try to bring her into their family.   One day they take her shopping to look for a crib for her baby—a real physical need she has—and they end up buying her the best of everything—the best crib, the best mattress, providing for all her needs.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“[Victoria] watched [the brothers] from a kind of abject distance.  She had grown increasingly quiet.  At last she said, Can’t you wait? It’s too much.  You shouldn’t be doing all of this.  What’s the matter? Harold said.  We’re having some fun here.  We thought you was too.  But it’s too expensive.  Why are you doing this? It’s all right, he said.  He started to put his arm around her, but stopped himself.  He looked down into her face.  It’s all right, he said again.  It is.  You’ll just have to believe that.  The girl’s eyes filled with tears, though she made no sound. Harold took out a handkerchief from the rear pocket of his pants and gave it to her…[That night] the brothers washed up and the three of them ate together in the kitchen and talked a little about the trip to Phillips, about the woman in the store with the brown dress and the boy with the dolly, the look on his face, and after supper the girl read the page of directions while the two McPherons assembled the crib.”  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly Victoria, who beforehand had felt lonely with Raymond and Harold finds new confidence with them—all because of their provision for her needs.  Clearly Victoria sees the implication behind their actions—by going out and providing for her needs, Raymond and Harold are saying in the best way that they know how: “welcome to our family.”  Friends, in this story, we are Victoria, and God is the old brothers.  He welcomes us into his family, and one of the best ways he does this is by keeping his promise of provision.  How may we know we are of the truth, why must we assure our hearts in God’s presence?  Because God keeps his promise of provision to us.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;[Subpoint # 2]  Promise of Pardon&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Verse 21—“Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God.” What a gentle promise is found in this verse—the promise of pardon.  Here we see that the obstacle to confidence in the presence of God is not God himself, but only ourselves. For when our hearts do not condemn us, God does not either—he has promised his pardon to us, and his promise will not fail.  When we stand before God with a clear conscience, we can do so without fear that he will use our confidence as an opportunity to condemn us—rather, he will confirm and encourage our hearts, because he has promised his pardon to us, and his promise is sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Application] Brothers, God keeps his promises—his promise of provision and of pardon—and his promise-keeping has implications for our lives.  It means that he is in covenant and we with him—because God keeps his promises, we must assure our hearts before him, because we can know that we are of the truth.  Here John is arguing that God’s keeping of his promises to us is proof of our belonging to him.  But how are we to apply this in our lives, how are we to see and remember the link between God’s promise-keeping and our covenant status?  First, we must do away with narcissistic self-condemnation that I know occurs far too often in our hearts.  If God keeps his promise of pardon to us, we are great fools to condemn ourselves.  This is one place where public confession of sin in our churches can be of great help to us—for when we stand with others around us and corporately confess our sin, we soon come to realize that what we think is our “special” status as sinners is in fact not so special at all.  We are sinners like every other Christian.  And when the Pastor stands before us and assures us of the forgiveness of our sin, we must hear him and believe.  Brothers, if we are to stop our foolish self-condemnation, we need to submit to the church.   Since God keeps his promise of pardon to us, we must assure our hearts before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How else are we to apply this truth in our lives, how else are we to see and remember the link between God’s promise-keeping and our covenant status?  Let us resolve that because God keeps his promise of provision we must not take God’s provision in our lives for granted.  This means we must not think God’s provision is due to our effort, or our worth, but we must see what it is—proof of a covenant relationship with the one who has made the earth itself, and provides us with every good thing.  We work for our bread, but it is the Lord who must always establish the work of our hands.  Because God keeps his promise of provision to us, we also must not look at God’s providence in our lives not as some kind of arbitrary benevolence by some distant god in the sky, but rather as constant proof of the closeness of our God and his daily involvement in our lives. &lt;br /&gt;But how do we do this? I think one of the best practical ways to train our attitude in these two ways—to see the paying of the bills, the provision of daily bread as not due to our own effort, or merely the arbitrary gift of some distant god is in taking seriously something which we probably all due every day—praying before our meals.  Brothers, when we give thanks for our food, let’s resolve for it to not be a dry and routine practice.  It is so easy we when we pause before meals to only offer thanks out of habit, or because it’s “what Christians do”—and we wouldn’t very spiritual if we didn’t.   Rather, let’s pray with fervor and soberness—fervor because of our thanks for our covenant lord’s kind provision, and soberness because of our dependence on it, our need for him.  Truly, since God compels our obedience to word and keeps his promise of provision to us, we must assure our hearts before him.  But there is one final reason for us to assure our hearts—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Main Point #3]  Since God is greater than our hearts, we must assure our hearts before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In verses 19 &amp; 20 we find the final reason we have for knowing that we are of the truth, the final motivation for assuring our hearts before God—the fact that God himself is greater than our heart—as John writes, “By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Question] How is God greater than our hearts? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Subpoint #1] God is objectively greater than our hearts. &lt;br /&gt;“God is greater than our hearts.”  Friends, what comfort is found in these words.  For when we confess that God is greater than our hearts, we confess that it is he that is the potter, and we who are the clay, that it is he who is the creator, and we the creature.  We confess that God is objectively greater than our hearts, and that in the end, it does not much matter what our hearts think or feel about our salvation, it matters only what God, who is greater, says about our salvation.  His word is greater than our hearts, and he overshadows us, disqualifying the authority of our hearts.  Here, John is saying: instead of basing your confidence before God on the status on your own heart, base your confidence on the word of God, who is greater.  Our assurance should come from this simple fact—our hearts do not have the power to change objective reality.  What is at issue here is who is able to name us, who has the power to proclaim our identity—and God is unequivocally saying: “I have that power, and you do not.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Illustration] Three weeks ago, I heard the heartbeat of my first child for the first time. One week ago I felt him move in my wife’s womb.   There are no words to describe the emotions that ran through my body when I heard and felt those first signs of life.  As the months go by, Ami and I are preparing for the arrival of our baby: one of our main tasks is choosing a name for our son or daughter.  We haven’t come to much agreement yet, but as we debate the merits of various names, there is something frightening about our task: the realization that whatever name we give our child will have real power in their life.  It will determine what others call them, what word they give to identify themselves, and indeed to some extent, how they identify themselves in their own hearts.  Our naming of our child in large part establishes our authority over them.  If I call my son, “John” and he doesn’t like it, then there is not much he can do about it.  Under no circumstances may he inform me one day that he’d rather be called, “George.” The very definition of a name is that it is something that must be bestowed.  In this case, I am objectively greater than my child.  He has no power over his name or his genetic and familial identity—it will be objectively determined by another.  And so, one hot day in August, I will hold my newborn son in my arms, and I will call him by what will be his name.  I will have real authority over him—he will forever be identified as my son, with the name that I have given to him—there is nothing he can ever do, for better or worse, to change that objective reality.  In the same way, God is objectively greater than our hearts—and the sentiment of our hearts is a poor guide to our status before him—because he is always greater than we are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Subpoint #2] God is personally greater than our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God is not only objectively greater than our hearts—he is also personally greater.  In verse 20, John says that when our hearts condemn us, we can be assured because God knows everything.  At first glance, it is difficult to understand the connection between this knowledge and our heart’s condemnation.  But the Greek word used for God’s “knowing” is ginosko and the greek word for condemn is kataginosko, a compound word that literally means “know against.” Clearly the words are being set in opposition with each other in this verse—when our hearts “know against” us, we should take comfort, because God knows all things—the implication being that not only does God’s knowledge count for more than our knowledge, not only is God’s knowing a cognitive recognition, but a personally relational act—where our hearts condemn, God assures.  Where our hearts know against us, God knows us, overruling and subduing our hearts, not only because he is objectively greater, but because he is also personally greater--reaching out and quieting our hearts in their time of doubt.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Application] Brothers, at the heart of most of our doubt regarding our status in the kingdom of God is the question of authority.  For we are all (more or less) the sons of American revivalism—a movement that historically has emphasized the individual heart as the ultimate arbiter of spiritual reality—a movement that claims our status before God is preserved by maintaining our heartfelt commitment to him.  But when trials come into our lives and our heart commitment wanes, when we fall into sin and our commitment seems hypocritical, what is our ground of assurance? American Christianity has often said that we must improve our hearts.  But friends, this is not the answer that the apostle John gives—rather he says simply: God is objectively greater than our hearts, he has named us as his own, and what he has done we may never undo.  John forbids us to base our assurance solely on our own feelings—in good times and bad.  When we doubt, let us not look inwardly toward our wavering heart, but rather outward to the one who is, and always will be, objectively greater than our hearts. Brothers, I am not saying that there is no such thing as an internal witness of the Spirit to assure our hearts.  Indeed, since God is not content to remain merely objectively greater than our hearts—no, he comes near us, and is himself personally greater than our heart.  Our personal God is not distant, but he is near, and in our times of doubt he will overwhelm us with his assurance.  Brothers, the practical impact of all this is that it requires us to not shrink from Church life, not excommunicate ourselves because of how we feel.  Many times when we fall into times of doubt, we are tempted to become more introspective, to turn inside ourselves and examine our hearts to see if they are true.  Today I am arguing that this is indeed not what we should do—rather, in times of doubt, we should be honest about our wavering feelings, both with ourselves and with others, but what we must never do is withdraw ourselves from church life or community based on our feelings (or lack of assurance).   We simply do not have that authority, and indeed, we misuderstand the purpose of the church.  Question 172 of the Westminster Larger Catechism puts it very well, asking: “May one who doubts his being in Christ, or of his due preparation, come to the Lord’s Supper?”  And the answer, in part: “One who doubts his being in Christ…may have true interest in Christ, though he be not yet assured of it…in which case (because promises are made, and this sacrament is appointed, for the relief even of weak and doubting Christians) he is to bewail his unbelief, and labor to have his doubts resolved; and, so doing, he may and ought to come to the Lord’s Supper, that he may be further strengthened.” Brothers, let us never forget that the church is for the weak and needy—that our weakness is not a reason for disqualification, but rather our badge of membership.  Truly, since God is greater than our hearts, we must assure our hearts before him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Conclusion]  Earlier I spoke of Ami and I naming our child.  But friends, the naming of my child will not be over.  For one day soon after we choose his name, I will hand my son over to a man, who for that moment, will be more than a man, who will speak with the authority of Christ.  And somehow, with water and with words, my son will acquire a new name—he will forever be bound into the bride of Christ, and the strong name of the trinity will be bound unto him.  From that day forward my son will be marked out, set apart, and the mark of God’s covenant will be upon him.  But brothers, it is not my son only who has been marked—each of us was buried with Christ in our baptism, and if we have been united in his death, we shall certainly be united in his resurrection.  In our baptisms, God has made his covenant with us, and since he compels our obedience, keeps his promises to us, and indeed, is even greater than our hearts, we must assure our hearts before him.  &lt;br /&gt;	&lt;br /&gt;So let us examine our obedience and good works and take assurance from them that Christ is at work in us; let us give thanks fervently before our meals for the proof God’s provision is of his covenant with us, and let confess openly that God is greater than our hearts and continue to participate in the community of the church and her sacraments.  And brothers, let us give thanks that our God is both powerful and good, that he has called us out and gives us reason to assure our hearts before him. </description>
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			<content:encoded><![CDATA[Sermon #2, from 1 John 3:18-22. <br /><br />[Announce Text]  Please turn with me to 1 John 3:18-22<br /><br />[Scripture Introduction] Christians are a people who are always constantly aware of a great divide in their lives—the divide which separates the way in which we know we ought to live, and the sin which plagues us.  Because we know God, we know his standard for living, and we are often convicted by the hypocrisy of our actions and thoughts.  Many times, this kind of awareness can lead us doubt whether or not we belong to the people of God after all, whether or not Jesus has actually redeemed us.  But friends, God knows the nature of our hearts.  Here, in 1 John 3, God speaks through the apostle John to people just like you, and the words he speaks are words of life…<br /><br />[Re-Announce and Read Text]  Read with me please from 1 John 3:18-22…<br /><br />[Prayer for Illumination] Let’s pray…<br /><br />[Introduction] Sometimes the feelings of doubt and anger were too much to bear. Every day had been blur for Anne ever since the morning when she had taken her small son Jack in for what seemed a normal case of the flu at the doctor’s office and slowly everything had unraveled.  First there had been tests, and then prescriptions, until the doctors finally realized that was wrong with Jack in the first place hadn’t been the flu at all, but the first stages of a disease that might take his life, and would certainly keep him from ever living normally.  Anne wasn’t exactly sure when she had started slipping, but she knew that now anger was always with her, that there were times when she would be driving home from somewhere and glance back at Jack sleeping in the carseat and the bitterness and hatred at the God who she thought cared for her would swell up until she had to pull over for a while.  Why should this have happened to her? Why Jack? There were so many children in the world, so many mothers with more than one, why did God have to take her only son from her? What had she done?  What hadn’t she done?  She longed to assure her heart, but there was no assurance to be found. And before long, as the days went by, her anger turned to doubt and doubt to condemnation.  Would someone who was really a part of God’s family get this angry with God?  Had God really covenanted with her? Would a real Christian curse at the sky or skip church, or stop praying?  Before long she began to think that this all was probably God’s judgment on her heart—he had known how false she had always been, and this was her punishment.  [more...]Though Anne’s story is a dramatic one, it is also a bit too close for comfort.  All of us, if we’re honest, will confess that there have been times when we have wondered if we too are really “of the truth,” as John puts it, and have sought to assure our hearts, but wondered how [FCF].  Sometimes our doubt, like Anne’s, is borne out of suffering—when we struggle physically, financially, or relationally, it quickly lead to doubting whether or not we are truly borne of God.  Sometimes our lack of assurance comes because of our sin—whether some deep, dark sin in our past, or simply a constant feeling of failure in our everyday lives.  We wonder how God could covenant with someone such as us.  Ultimately though, many of us struggle with doubt and lack of assurance not for any particular reason, but simply because we must believe in what we cannot see—the simple fact is, the hope which we have been given has yet to be fulfilled.  It is precisely for this reason that John writes his epistle—the church that he writes to has been beset with false teaching and division, and the false teachers have been challenging the assurance of the believers that John writes to—and in Chapter 3, John comforts the believers and tells that they must assure their hearts before God [Scripture Bond].<br /><br />[Proposition] Since God covenants with us, we must assure our hearts before him. <br /><br />But how do we know that God covenants with us, and why shall we assure our hearts before him?  What reason does John give for confidence before God?  Here John does not point his readers inwardly toward meditating on the authenticity of their subjective feelings of God’s love or encourage them to seek an “new experience” of God, but rather he points toward clear and objective reasons for these doubting readers to be sure of their status before God. In turn, John shows us that we can know God covenants with us and assure our hearts before him because God compels our obedience to his word, God keeps his promises to us, and ultimately, because God is greater than our hearts. <br /><br />[Main Point #1] Since God compels our obedience to his word, we must assure our hearts before him.  <br /><br />John shows the central thrust of our passage in verse 19 when he writes, “By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our hearts before him.”  But what is the “by this” (en touto) that John refers to?  Commentators agree that it is likely that John is <br />both pointing to the argument in verse 18, as well as pointing forward to verses 20-22.  So let’s look at verse 18 to see the first way clear way that John says we shall know that we are of the truth.  “Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” Here John is making a simple argument—we should know that we are of the truth when God works in us and we love others in deeds and in truth.  Don’t hear what John is not saying here—he is not in any sense arguing that we somehow earn our confidence before God by our obedience to God ’s command to love others.  Rather he is responding to the question, “How can I tell that I am one of God’s children?” with the simple answer, “Because you act like one of God’s children.” The obedience in our lives to God’s law is not at all done to earn his favor.  Rather it is a simple reflection of who we are, and who the Holy Spirit is making us to be.   Also important to see is John’s emphasis on actions, in contrast to loving feelings—the question to ask is not “do I feel loving,” but, “do I act lovingly toward (in this context) my brothers in Christ.”<br /><br />[Illustration] Now, in the Hundred Acre Wood, there lives a bear of not much brain called Winnie-the-Pooh.  Perhaps you’ve heard of him.  Winnie’s best friend is called Piglet, and you can guess what sort of animal he is.  If you’ve read these stories, you’ll know that where Pooh hasn’t much brain, Piglet hasn’t much courage, as we’ll soon see. Now one day, Winnie-the-Pooh and Piglet were taking walk in the forest, and suddenly they see something strange, and try to discover what this strange thing is, which is where we’ll pick up their story.<br /><br />“Look, Pooh!” said Piglet suddenly.  “There’s something in one of the Pine Trees.” “So <br />there is!” said Pooh, looking up wonderingly. “There’s an Animal.” Piglet took Pooh’s arm, in case Pooh was frightened. “Is it One of the Fiercer Animals?” he said, looking the other way. Pooh nodded.  “It’s a Jagular,” he said.  “What do Jagulars do?” asked Piglet, hoping that they wouldn’t.  “They hide in the branches of trees, and drop on you as you go underneath,” said Pooh.  “Christopher Robin told me.” “Perhaps we better hadn’t go underneath, Pooh. In case he dropped and hurt himself.”  “They don’t hurt themselves,” said Pooh.  “They’re such very good droppers.” Piglet still felt that to be underneath a Very Good Dropper would be a Mistake, and he was just going to hurry back for something which he had forgotten when the Jagular called out to them.  “Help! Help!” it called.  “That’s what Jagulars always do,” said Pooh, much interested. “They call ‘Help! Help!’ and then when you look up, they drop on you.”  “I’m looking down,” cried Piglet loudly, so as the Jagular shouldn’t do the wrong thing by accident.  Something very excited next to the Jagular heard him, and squeaked: “Pooh and Piglet! Pooh and Piglet!” …“Pooh!” [Piglet] cried.  “I believe it’s Tigger and Roo!” “So it is,” said Pooh.  “I thought it was a Jagular and another Jagular.”<br /><br />You may not believe me, but hidden in this simple and funny story is a significant epistemological, and ultimately, spiritual truth, which is: one way we can know what something is how that something acts.  Pooh claims the wild animals are Jagulars because they act like a Jagular should: namely, sitting in trees and calling “Help!” in order to drop on people. Piglet counters that really the animals are acting like Tigger and Roo would if they were stuck in a tree and couldn’t get down—and soon Pooh sees that he is right.  Brothers, this is exactly what John to us: since we are acting like God’s children, since God compels our obedience to his word, we can know we are of the truth, and assure our hearts before him.   <br /><br />[Application] This simple truth, that we know we are God’s children because of our obedience to his word, should affect our behavior in various ways.  First it should motivate us to love those God has placed in our lives in our actions.  In verse 16, John shows that this means laying down our lives for others—It means fairly easy things like with serving our friends and classmates by giving up a parking space to another or studying with someone when it helps them more than ourselves.  But it also means more difficult things like self-sacrificially giving to those in need, speaking a word of difficult truth into a friend’s life or controlling our quick temper with our family members.  But the truth that “since God compels our obedience, we must assure our hearts” should do more than change our actions.  It should also change our attitude toward our own obedience.  Many people doubt the validity of their loving actions toward others if there is any element of self-interest in their actions, if their actions are motivated by anything but pure love.  But here we see that obeying God’s commands to love our wives or friends because we love them and because we seek assurance for our standing before God are not necessarily mutually exclusive motivations.  Listen to how our Westminster Confession speaks of Good Works.  “Good works, done in obedience to God’s commandments, are the fruits and evidences of a true and lively faith: and by them believers manifest their thankfulness, strengthen their assurance, edify their brethren, adorn the profession of the gospel, stop the mouths of the adversaries, and glorify God.”    <br /><br />Friends, I think that sometimes in our Reformed heritage we are so afraid of anything that might sound like “works-righteousness” that we deprive ourselves of a right assurance of our standing before God based on our good works.  For finding confidence for our standing before God in our good fruit and works is not only thoroughly biblical and confessional—it is a profound acknowledgement that our God is alive and powerful, and that his work in our lives will always make a difference in our actions.  Friends, if we deny that our obedience is a valid basis for assurance, we do more than weaken our confidence—we deny the power of the living and risen Christ and strike at the heart of the gospel itself.  If our good works tell us nothing of Christ’s presence in our lives, then what does that say about Christ?  At best, it makes him incidental, and at worst he is impotent. But our Christ is not incidental, and he is not impotent—our Christ makes the blind to see, the lame to walk, the dead to rise, and makes even a sinner like me love his wife and brothers! And when he works in our lives and compels our obedience to God’s word, what can we do but wonder at his power and find comfort in his assurance that we are indeed his, and no one can take us from him?  Friends, we must strive to obey God better, but we must strive to change our attitude toward our obedience.  For you see, finding assurance in good works is actually the opposite of works-righteousness—it is an acknowledgement of our desperate need for Christ, and the total life-change he brings when he brings us into submission to his rule.  Truly, since God compels our obedience to his word, we must assure our hearts before him. <br /><br />[Main Point #2] Since God keeps his promises to us, we must assure our hearts before him.<br /><br />In verse 21 and 22, we find the second great way that we may know we are of the truth and that YHWH covenants with us—that is, that God keeps his promises to us.  <br /><br />[Question] What kind of promises?<br /><br />[Subpoint #1] The promise of provision.<br /><br />Brothers, what a great and glorious promise is found in verse 22.  “Whatever we ask we receive from him, because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him.”  Now John’s thrust in this verse is not something along the lines of a prosperity gospel—he is not saying that God is some kind of cosmic vending machine that will deliver whatever we ask simply because we hit the right button.  Rather, John is emphasizing the covenant relationship and covenant blessings that followers of Christ experience when God is their covenant lord.  Basically, what John is saying is this—we may know that we are of the truth because our lives display the markings of one in covenant with God—we do things which please him, loving in deed and in truth, and in response, God provides for our needs.   <br /><br />[Illustration] In Kent Haruf’s novel, Plainsong, the story focuses on a girl called Victoria, a pregnant teenager in a small rural town in Colorado.  Victoria’s boyfriend has disappeared, and her mother has kicked her out of the house because of her pregnancy, so Victoria lives with a teacher for a while, but soon she has to find a new place to stay.   With more than a little convincing from the teacher, two old bachelor brothers named Harold and Raymond allow Victoria to move in with them.  Harold and Raymond are cattle farmers, and they’ve lived alone for their entire lives since their parents died.  So obviously there is a period of adjustment when Victoria first moves in, and no matter how well the brothers treat her, she doesn’t feel like she belongs out with them, and they don’t really know how to talk to her—on her days off from school she sleeps all morning, and they eat their meals in silence.  But slowly the brothers start to reach out to Victoria, try to bring her into their family.   One day they take her shopping to look for a crib for her baby—a real physical need she has—and they end up buying her the best of everything—the best crib, the best mattress, providing for all her needs.  <br /><br />“[Victoria] watched [the brothers] from a kind of abject distance.  She had grown increasingly quiet.  At last she said, Can’t you wait? It’s too much.  You shouldn’t be doing all of this.  What’s the matter? Harold said.  We’re having some fun here.  We thought you was too.  But it’s too expensive.  Why are you doing this? It’s all right, he said.  He started to put his arm around her, but stopped himself.  He looked down into her face.  It’s all right, he said again.  It is.  You’ll just have to believe that.  The girl’s eyes filled with tears, though she made no sound. Harold took out a handkerchief from the rear pocket of his pants and gave it to her…[That night] the brothers washed up and the three of them ate together in the kitchen and talked a little about the trip to Phillips, about the woman in the store with the brown dress and the boy with the dolly, the look on his face, and after supper the girl read the page of directions while the two McPherons assembled the crib.”  <br /><br />Suddenly Victoria, who beforehand had felt lonely with Raymond and Harold finds new confidence with them—all because of their provision for her needs.  Clearly Victoria sees the implication behind their actions—by going out and providing for her needs, Raymond and Harold are saying in the best way that they know how: “welcome to our family.”  Friends, in this story, we are Victoria, and God is the old brothers.  He welcomes us into his family, and one of the best ways he does this is by keeping his promise of provision.  How may we know we are of the truth, why must we assure our hearts in God’s presence?  Because God keeps his promise of provision to us.  <br /> <br />[Subpoint # 2]  Promise of Pardon<br /> <br />Verse 21—“Beloved, if our heart does not condemn us, we have confidence before God.” What a gentle promise is found in this verse—the promise of pardon.  Here we see that the obstacle to confidence in the presence of God is not God himself, but only ourselves. For when our hearts do not condemn us, God does not either—he has promised his pardon to us, and his promise will not fail.  When we stand before God with a clear conscience, we can do so without fear that he will use our confidence as an opportunity to condemn us—rather, he will confirm and encourage our hearts, because he has promised his pardon to us, and his promise is sure.<br /><br />[Application] Brothers, God keeps his promises—his promise of provision and of pardon—and his promise-keeping has implications for our lives.  It means that he is in covenant and we with him—because God keeps his promises, we must assure our hearts before him, because we can know that we are of the truth.  Here John is arguing that God’s keeping of his promises to us is proof of our belonging to him.  But how are we to apply this in our lives, how are we to see and remember the link between God’s promise-keeping and our covenant status?  First, we must do away with narcissistic self-condemnation that I know occurs far too often in our hearts.  If God keeps his promise of pardon to us, we are great fools to condemn ourselves.  This is one place where public confession of sin in our churches can be of great help to us—for when we stand with others around us and corporately confess our sin, we soon come to realize that what we think is our “special” status as sinners is in fact not so special at all.  We are sinners like every other Christian.  And when the Pastor stands before us and assures us of the forgiveness of our sin, we must hear him and believe.  Brothers, if we are to stop our foolish self-condemnation, we need to submit to the church.   Since God keeps his promise of pardon to us, we must assure our hearts before him.<br /><br />How else are we to apply this truth in our lives, how else are we to see and remember the link between God’s promise-keeping and our covenant status?  Let us resolve that because God keeps his promise of provision we must not take God’s provision in our lives for granted.  This means we must not think God’s provision is due to our effort, or our worth, but we must see what it is—proof of a covenant relationship with the one who has made the earth itself, and provides us with every good thing.  We work for our bread, but it is the Lord who must always establish the work of our hands.  Because God keeps his promise of provision to us, we also must not look at God’s providence in our lives not as some kind of arbitrary benevolence by some distant god in the sky, but rather as constant proof of the closeness of our God and his daily involvement in our lives. <br />But how do we do this? I think one of the best practical ways to train our attitude in these two ways—to see the paying of the bills, the provision of daily bread as not due to our own effort, or merely the arbitrary gift of some distant god is in taking seriously something which we probably all due every day—praying before our meals.  Brothers, when we give thanks for our food, let’s resolve for it to not be a dry and routine practice.  It is so easy we when we pause before meals to only offer thanks out of habit, or because it’s “what Christians do”—and we wouldn’t very spiritual if we didn’t.   Rather, let’s pray with fervor and soberness—fervor because of our thanks for our covenant lord’s kind provision, and soberness because of our dependence on it, our need for him.  Truly, since God compels our obedience to word and keeps his promise of provision to us, we must assure our hearts before him.  But there is one final reason for us to assure our hearts—<br /><br />[Main Point #3]  Since God is greater than our hearts, we must assure our hearts before him.<br /><br />In verses 19 & 20 we find the final reason we have for knowing that we are of the truth, the final motivation for assuring our hearts before God—the fact that God himself is greater than our heart—as John writes, “By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.” <br /><br />[Question] How is God greater than our hearts? <br /><br />[Subpoint #1] God is objectively greater than our hearts. <br />“God is greater than our hearts.”  Friends, what comfort is found in these words.  For when we confess that God is greater than our hearts, we confess that it is he that is the potter, and we who are the clay, that it is he who is the creator, and we the creature.  We confess that God is objectively greater than our hearts, and that in the end, it does not much matter what our hearts think or feel about our salvation, it matters only what God, who is greater, says about our salvation.  His word is greater than our hearts, and he overshadows us, disqualifying the authority of our hearts.  Here, John is saying: instead of basing your confidence before God on the status on your own heart, base your confidence on the word of God, who is greater.  Our assurance should come from this simple fact—our hearts do not have the power to change objective reality.  What is at issue here is who is able to name us, who has the power to proclaim our identity—and God is unequivocally saying: “I have that power, and you do not.”<br /><br />[Illustration] Three weeks ago, I heard the heartbeat of my first child for the first time. One week ago I felt him move in my wife’s womb.   There are no words to describe the emotions that ran through my body when I heard and felt those first signs of life.  As the months go by, Ami and I are preparing for the arrival of our baby: one of our main tasks is choosing a name for our son or daughter.  We haven’t come to much agreement yet, but as we debate the merits of various names, there is something frightening about our task: the realization that whatever name we give our child will have real power in their life.  It will determine what others call them, what word they give to identify themselves, and indeed to some extent, how they identify themselves in their own hearts.  Our naming of our child in large part establishes our authority over them.  If I call my son, “John” and he doesn’t like it, then there is not much he can do about it.  Under no circumstances may he inform me one day that he’d rather be called, “George.” The very definition of a name is that it is something that must be bestowed.  In this case, I am objectively greater than my child.  He has no power over his name or his genetic and familial identity—it will be objectively determined by another.  And so, one hot day in August, I will hold my newborn son in my arms, and I will call him by what will be his name.  I will have real authority over him—he will forever be identified as my son, with the name that I have given to him—there is nothing he can ever do, for better or worse, to change that objective reality.  In the same way, God is objectively greater than our hearts—and the sentiment of our hearts is a poor guide to our status before him—because he is always greater than we are. <br /><br />[Subpoint #2] God is personally greater than our hearts.<br /><br />But God is not only objectively greater than our hearts—he is also personally greater.  In verse 20, John says that when our hearts condemn us, we can be assured because God knows everything.  At first glance, it is difficult to understand the connection between this knowledge and our heart’s condemnation.  But the Greek word used for God’s “knowing” is ginosko and the greek word for condemn is kataginosko, a compound word that literally means “know against.” Clearly the words are being set in opposition with each other in this verse—when our hearts “know against” us, we should take comfort, because God knows all things—the implication being that not only does God’s knowledge count for more than our knowledge, not only is God’s knowing a cognitive recognition, but a personally relational act—where our hearts condemn, God assures.  Where our hearts know against us, God knows us, overruling and subduing our hearts, not only because he is objectively greater, but because he is also personally greater--reaching out and quieting our hearts in their time of doubt.  <br /><br />[Application] Brothers, at the heart of most of our doubt regarding our status in the kingdom of God is the question of authority.  For we are all (more or less) the sons of American revivalism—a movement that historically has emphasized the individual heart as the ultimate arbiter of spiritual reality—a movement that claims our status before God is preserved by maintaining our heartfelt commitment to him.  But when trials come into our lives and our heart commitment wanes, when we fall into sin and our commitment seems hypocritical, what is our ground of assurance? American Christianity has often said that we must improve our hearts.  But friends, this is not the answer that the apostle John gives—rather he says simply: God is objectively greater than our hearts, he has named us as his own, and what he has done we may never undo.  John forbids us to base our assurance solely on our own feelings—in good times and bad.  When we doubt, let us not look inwardly toward our wavering heart, but rather outward to the one who is, and always will be, objectively greater than our hearts. Brothers, I am not saying that there is no such thing as an internal witness of the Spirit to assure our hearts.  Indeed, since God is not content to remain merely objectively greater than our hearts—no, he comes near us, and is himself personally greater than our heart.  Our personal God is not distant, but he is near, and in our times of doubt he will overwhelm us with his assurance.  Brothers, the practical impact of all this is that it requires us to not shrink from Church life, not excommunicate ourselves because of how we feel.  Many times when we fall into times of doubt, we are tempted to become more introspective, to turn inside ourselves and examine our hearts to see if they are true.  Today I am arguing that this is indeed not what we should do—rather, in times of doubt, we should be honest about our wavering feelings, both with ourselves and with others, but what we must never do is withdraw ourselves from church life or community based on our feelings (or lack of assurance).   We simply do not have that authority, and indeed, we misuderstand the purpose of the church.  Question 172 of the Westminster Larger Catechism puts it very well, asking: “May one who doubts his being in Christ, or of his due preparation, come to the Lord’s Supper?”  And the answer, in part: “One who doubts his being in Christ…may have true interest in Christ, though he be not yet assured of it…in which case (because promises are made, and this sacrament is appointed, for the relief even of weak and doubting Christians) he is to bewail his unbelief, and labor to have his doubts resolved; and, so doing, he may and ought to come to the Lord’s Supper, that he may be further strengthened.” Brothers, let us never forget that the church is for the weak and needy—that our weakness is not a reason for disqualification, but rather our badge of membership.  Truly, since God is greater than our hearts, we must assure our hearts before him.<br /><br />[Conclusion]  Earlier I spoke of Ami and I naming our child.  But friends, the naming of my child will not be over.  For one day soon after we choose his name, I will hand my son over to a man, who for that moment, will be more than a man, who will speak with the authority of Christ.  And somehow, with water and with words, my son will acquire a new name—he will forever be bound into the bride of Christ, and the strong name of the trinity will be bound unto him.  From that day forward my son will be marked out, set apart, and the mark of God’s covenant will be upon him.  But brothers, it is not my son only who has been marked—each of us was buried with Christ in our baptism, and if we have been united in his death, we shall certainly be united in his resurrection.  In our baptisms, God has made his covenant with us, and since he compels our obedience, keeps his promises to us, and indeed, is even greater than our hearts, we must assure our hearts before him.  <br />	<br />So let us examine our obedience and good works and take assurance from them that Christ is at work in us; let us give thanks fervently before our meals for the proof God’s provision is of his covenant with us, and let confess openly that God is greater than our hearts and continue to participate in the community of the church and her sacraments.  And brothers, let us give thanks that our God is both powerful and good, that he has called us out and gives us reason to assure our hearts before him. ]]></content:encoded>
			<dc:creator>Joshua Seth Anderson</dc:creator>
			<dc:date>2005-03-22T10:06:40-04:00</dc:date>
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			<title>Openness of God vs. Process Theism</title>
			<link>http://www.upsaid.com/joshuaseth/index.php?action=viewcom&amp;id=69</link>
			<description>What follows is the text of a paper I wrote recently for a systematics class at Covenant exploring the relationship between &lt;A href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Process_theology&quot;&gt;process theology&lt;/A&gt; and Openness of God thought.  Basically, my thesis is that while there are many similarities between openness and process thought, process influence on open theism is minimal.  I still can't figure out how to copy footnotes into html, so the paper lacks documentation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;A Similar Answer to Different Problems&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The apparent similarities between process and openness theism stem in large part from a similar critique of the God of classical theism that is motivated by each theology’s unique concerns.  In the case of process theism, the classical view of God is understood to be inadequate because God’s impassability and transcendence is impossible to reconcile with recent paradigm shifts in the natural sciences that emphasize structural change.  In contrast, openness theists are not comfortable with the classical view of God because they believe it denies the real freedom that a loving God gives to man as well as the dynamic nature of God’s interaction with the world.   In this way, process and openness theism both rely on philosophical assumptions to make their critiques—for process theism, the incompatibility of a fundamentally unchanging God with a fundamentally changing universe, and for openness theism the incompatibility of a loving God and less than completely free (in a libertarian sense) man.  [more...]These different philosophic concerns lead in turn to similar descriptions of God—though these similarities would seem to be more superficial than real given their different motivations.  Both theologies affirm that God exists within a vulnerable, give-and-take relationship with his creatures, and dwells within time.  Along with God’s vulnerability, both affirm man’s libertarian free will, and therefore rightly assume that God cannot possibly know the future actions of man.  Interestingly, the assertion that God cannot know the future is probably the most obviously objectionable part of both views for evangelicals, and yet, that assertion is nowhere near the heart of argument for either view, but rather only a logical consequence of their own prior assumptions.  As the chronological antecedent of process theism, openness theists have affirmed these similarities and have also praised process theism for its critique of the classical view of God, especially in process theism’s view of God’s “persuasive” interaction with man and its solution to the problem of evil.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, along with affirming the similarities noted, openness theism has made a strong critique of process thought on several fronts: for limiting God’s action in the world to persuasive activity (open theists would say that God can sometimes act coercively), an overemphasis on God’s immanence, and finally, a fatal commitment to philosophy at the expense of biblical revelation.   Ironically, in their critique of process thought, openness theists nearly echo evangelical concerns for openness theism itself.  As evidence of the difference between openness and process theism, William Hasker writes in The Openness of God that open theism seeks “in fact, to demonstrate that there is a third alternative, a way of understanding God and his relations to the world that embodies many of the strengths of both classical and process theism while avoiding their weaknesses.”   Clearly, open theism has done its best to set itself apart from process theism even as it appreciates the fact that both theologies agree on some of their affirmations about God and his relationship to creation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While similarities between the two views obviously exist, it would be incorrect to argue that openness theism is influenced in a directly causal manner by process theism.   Besides considering the fact that open theists deny any direct influence themselves, it also seems that process theism and open theism merely posit similar answers for very different problems.  Process theism is a direct response to a perceived disconnection between science and theology; take for example their claim that ultimately, “the natural sciences tell us something about reality and not merely about human experience…people cannot be satisfied with theologies that relegate the revelations of science to the status of information about mere appearance, and thereby fail to discuss science in terms of the same set of concepts used to discuss religion, ethics and aesthetics.”   In contrast, openness theism is a theological attempt to reconcile a libertarian view of man’s free will with the biblical record—a Christian theological tradition that stretches back at least as far as Pelagius and notably includes Arminianism and Socinianism.   The path for the credibility of openness theism may have been paved by process theology—that is, as Hasker asserts, openness theists may have seen a gap between the process and classical views of God in which they might ins